#no joke i Felt my anxiety go down lmao

[the-clay-quarters]

thinks about blorbos hard enough that [Nightmares is decreasing...] pops up in the corner of my vision

[arandomnerd810]

personal TADC character analysis

uh warning this is long lol

autism time let’s go (/not in a negative way i have autism) stretches hands * I’ll go in order of the character episodes cause why not we have it (see below) i’ll put periods but it will just be to make it more readable not to be intimidating lolll

btw im completely open to interpretations of characters changing throughout the series this is just for fun

Gooseworx has said this series is mostly focused on characters rather than lore, and from what we know, i truly believe it. I don’t think any of the current characters will abstract because of this.

(I put a version of this in the glitch inn discord theory thing so if you recognize it that’s why)

Pomni: we already know her deal pretty well, as we’ve already had her episode. uuuh if anyone’s going to do something important lore wise it will probably be her as she’s the main character but can’t rlly tell what that may be. to review ep 2 though she’s an outcast who has felt like she was nothing and is a logical thinker.

(Kinger and Zooble will there their focus episode but i put it in order of who was revealed to be the ep 3 focus first)

Zooble: From their design (the entire motif is it can be changed at any time) and the fact she doesn’t know his gender, we’re dealing with some pretty clear identity issues. Friends with Gangle seems cool excited for next episode to learn more about them!

Kinger: One of the most interesting characters so far. I feel like we will get to learn more about abstraction though Queenie, the X-ed out door that looks like a female version of him. If i had to guess, since Gooseworx said they were not siblings, they were a couple. (Also judging by his age and the fact he could have been married, he may have been a father yeowch imagine that) I can see the common theory of the insect collection implying he was a coder before getting trapped, but i could also see him being some random guy who just likes bugs lol. He seems like really sweet guy behind his constant anxiety and disassociating.

 Gangle: (My faveorite human rn) Her mask design can be interpreted in a lot of ways but it’s clear that the happy mask isn’t her real personality. My take on it rn is she doesn’t wana bother people with her stuff so she pretends she’s happy? She seems easily embarrassed and def has self esteem lower than the last circle of hell. What’s interesting though is she’s willing to stand up for herself from time to time, even though she’s easily shot down after.

Ragatha: Waaaay too nice for her own good. Also probably has self esteem lower than the last circle of hell and bases her self worth of others approval.  Though she’s been here the second longest, she seems a lot more normal than Kinger. Makes me question how long apart their introductions have been. Probably copes via escapism.

Jax: I can see why everyone is very interested in him cause me too. He seems like the only fourth wall breaky guy (unless you count Caine cause of his intro at the pilot)which is rlly interesting how did he figure out more than everyone else? what’s with the keys? i have no clue lmao. He’s an asshole who makes the best of his situation by torturing everyone else. At the end of the day though, he’s a human and was sad at kaufmo’s abstraction but he probably isolates himself so it would probably be the same for anyone

but waAitTt a moment

that’s 6 humans but Gooseworx said we would look into 7 (cause of the “other” part) in her twitter post talking about the character focus timeline so we know our fav character won’t be left behind ⁉️⁉️⁉️ I hear you not asking well my dear hypothetical person, who better to fill the 7th character than Caine?

Why you did not ask? Too bad i’m info dumping. First, he’s the main antagonist and alongside Pomni, the commercial face (or lack their of haha teeth and eye joke) of the series. he’s an important character and loved by many. (and hated equally if not more aside the point lmaooo)

Yes, gooseworx can lie about stuff but I think she’s smarter than to lead this heavy into Caine depth/ angst territory if there wasn’t going to be anything On top of that, the entire purpose of the timeline post was so we know our faveorite characters weren’t getting treated poorly. It’s unlike for a character based show to suddenly drop such a major character for some random other guy were introduced to later or smth. i mean cmon there’s three episodes after all the humans at least one of them has to be focused on my boy.

Caine: I believe he really does have good intentions and wants to help but just does not understand people at all. This means he’s like an anxiety disorder; it wants to help, solves some issues but creates 500 more. Judging by the Tumblr post, loneliness may play a big part in what’s to come? I’ve always had a feeling his front was extremely fake and his VA saying “breaks keyfable” (an act that pretends it’s true) supports that theory. Episode two gives some insecurity vibes when Zooble didn’t want to go on the adventure. I find that pretty interesting cause he didn’t care at all if people went on the gloink adventure or not. Maybe he puts some adventures over others and he could have been proud of the candy adventure cause more time and care was put into it and he made a new AI. Why did he blue screen? i feel like he could have some blockages on what he can say built in though im not sure why he was blocked then if he even was. one of the biggest questions i have ab him currently tbh. what’s with him grabbing his cane like that in ep 2? if i had to guess simply be nervous = that? His VA also knows some depth to him even though his focus episode is likely going to be at least one of the last 3 episodes, which they have not gotten to recording yet. You know what this means Caine angst solidarity club? Sad Caine so more fan angst appetizers before the main cannon feast let’s friccin go‼️‼️⁉️⁉️

(try to guess my fav impossible /j)

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Graphic depictions of child abuse, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, defenselessness

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, this is something that just popped into my head while languishing in my bathtub the other night. Happy birthday to me by giving y'all this lil gift lmao

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @lillycore555 @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

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Chapter 12:

Helplessness

Today was so boring... You had customers come in, order the usual snacks, get some books, and leave. You had one couple in particular that grinded your gears just a bit out of bitterness.

They were just married--soulmates--and were still in the "touching all the time" phase of their relationship. You felt a lurch in your chest each time they shared a kiss, giggled to one another, and shared little inside jokes.

You had been feeling lonely. All. Day. Long.

Even Jake hadn't come to visit you. He said Steven and Marc were still out of the country at the moment, on a trip of some sort. Good for them, you thought. They seemed like they needed it.

But... something kept... tugging at you. Pulling you away from your daily routine, distracting you. It felt like a stone being dropped in a pond; sinking down and settling in the silt at the bottom.

Seeing that couple had put you in a bad mood. Not angry, but... hell. You'd be surprised if you weren't glowing a nice bright green after their public displays of affection.

You flopped down onto your bed, Puck leaping up with a purr to lick at your cheek.

You chuckled softly, rolling onto your side to scratch her round little cheek affectionately, "This is the longest you've stuck it out inside here, Puck. Finally gettin' tired of being outside all the time? Ready to settle down? Be my bookshop kitty?"

Puck responded with a slow blink, and a long yawn, her pink tongue poking out at you a bit.

You giggled, your chest feeling just a bit lighter at how cute she was.

"Yeah. You're right." You say to her. "Let's go to bed. I can take a shower in the morning."

Puck mewed, moving around to sit atop your end table as you got ready for bed, slipping on your comfiest shorts and sleep shirt before going to brush your teeth for the night.

Her little green eyes tracked your every move, blinking once, twice, her ear flicking slightly as she hears you heave another heavy sigh before face-planting into your pillows, hugging one close to you.

Puck purred loudly, snuggling up against your side and tucking her paws beneath her.

She only closed her eyes once she felt you relax, content as your hand idly reached out and stroked her fur as you eventually slipped into the land of dreams.

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You stumbled on your feet as they hit the cold, damp asphalt, the soft droplets as the rain misted down on you felt... strange. Not London.... Not Maine.

You whip your head up and around, looking down at your body. You still wore the pajamas you'd selected for the night, nothing else.

Your body shivered and your teeth began to chatter as you looked around for someone--anyone--to ask for help, to find out where you were and how the hell you were suddenly dropped there.

The brownstones and townhouses around you were all shut tight, the street entirely devoid of cars and people. To you, it felt like it was the afternoon. The world was illuminated in cloudy gloom that told you it was daytime...

Your eyes flicked to your right, spotting one singular home, the windows glowing with a warm light, the silhouettes of people within calling you towards the front steps.

Your feet felt like ice; your toes ready to fall off as you make the short climb, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt at warmth.

You raise one hand and use the knocker three times.

"H-hello? I'm sorry to b-bother you, but um.... I'm afraid I.... I don't know where I am. Is there a phone I can borrow?" You call out as the wind whips around you, the misty rain begins to get heavier, turning into sleet; a chill settling deep into your very core.

Upon receiving no response, you raised your voice: "Hello? Is anybody there?"

It was crazy. You saw people through the window, you could see somebody was home. The lights were on, you could hear muffled words and shuffling feet--

CRASH!

You jumped slightly, eyes widening in a bit of fear and shock as you heard a very angry voice from within; accusatory and full of venom; followed by the rapid thumping of more footsteps.

Your teeth chattered and you looked around.

Nobody else was on the street or looking down on you... it was freezing. Somebody could be hurt...

You swallowed the paranoid lump in your throat as you turn the knob and let yourself in.

"H.... Hello?"

The warmth was heavenly on your icy cold skin as you slipped inside, the last of your chills slipping away as you took in the surroundings.

The home was cosy, sweetly and primly decorated. As you made it past the entryway and circle of plush sitting chairs, you discover what looked to be the dining room.

A photo frame sat atop the dining table, a tipped over bourbon glass trickling down onto the hardwood floors.

Your fingers stiffly reached out to grab the frame and look at it. It was a photo of what looked to be two young boys--possibly brothers. But you couldn't really tell because the bigger one had his face violently scratched away, leaving the younger one beaming happily at the camera, the bigger child's arm wrapped tightly around him.

You pursed your lips and felt a stab in your heart as you set the photo down. Who would do such a thing to a picture of a child? Was it some kind of coping skill? You'd heard of some people removing things that remind them of those they lost, but this...

You suck in a sharp breath of air and walk to the threshold, moving towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

At the bottom of the steps was a bottle of bourbon, shattered on the wall and laying in pieces on the floor, the sickly sweet liquor dripping down the wall and pooling around the glass shards.

Amid the debris was the remnants of a vase, the wilted flowers laying sadly in the sticky drink and shards of brown glass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard another slam, followed by loud banging and the rattling of a door.

A shrill voice cut above it all as you took the first step:

"Let me in you worthless little brat!"

Your heart stopped briefly at the sheer hatred in her voice, the sound of her fist pounding on wood.

You tried to race up the flight of stairs, but every step felt like you were walking in wet cement; sinking deeper like quicksand as you heard whatever door she was pounding on finally open.

"There you are."

"No, no, no..." You grunt, pulling yourself up from of the stairs that may have been wood when you first touched them... but now they were sucking you down like the whirlpool in a drain.

The wooden banister was your greatest ally in your trek, sweat beading from your brow and your lungs burning as you hauled yourself up; step by step.

When you finally reached the summit of the stairs, you chanced a brief look down.

There were only maybe sixteen steps, maybe a couple more. Why did it feel like six hundred?

You heard her grunt, the sound of leather cracking over something.

"You're making me do this! You know that!"

You stumbled to your feet and frantically raced down the hall and to the room the sounds were coming from. You gripped the knob and leaned in.

Beneath the sounds of leather, her angry words, was the soft sniffling of a child. A child trying so desperately to stay quiet for fear of making the abuse worse.

"Stop!" You cried, the knob stiff in your hands.

You jiggle it, pound on the door like she had moments ago.

"Stop it! I can hear you!" You shouted, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as tears burned your vision. "Why are you doing this!"

"All you have to do is listen, and you can't even do that!" The woman spat like you weren't even there, "Just look at what you did! You worthless little bastard!"

"Mom, please--"

The young voice was cut short by a loud shriek, followed by a groan and a sob. More shuffling. You threw yourself against the door, wanting so desperately to break past that final barrier, to maybe try and save the poor boy you knew now was being abused.

The door opened and you stumbled forwards, falling to your hands and feet hard on the floor.

The typical trappings of a young boy, Star Wars, NASA, Indiana Jones, and even a poster of another movie you couldn't quite recognize, but some part of you recalled.

You didn't have time to take in the rest of them, your eyes immediately zeroed in on the woman standing above the boy who was curled in on himself, his mop of dark strands hanging over his face as he cried, his nose running down his chin; lip busted and bleeding.

His arm he cradled so gingerly against his chest had burns. Fresh red, bleeding welts.

His mother, you surmised, stood over him, cigarette in one hand and the belt hanging at her side in the other as she looked down at him, her drunken, hate-filled gaze unmoved by her child's soft pleading.

He hiccuped, his body wracked with the sobs he so desperately tried to keep inside. "Mom, please.... I... I didn't mean it. I tripped--"

"No, you were being stupid again." She said, slipping the cigarette between her teeth and raising her arm to strike.

"Like you always are. Like you were with my Ro-Ro."

"I didn't mean it!" The boy cried defiantly, finally looking up at his mother, his gorgeous amber eyes glassy and wet as more fat tears curled over his eyelashes. "I didn't know that would happen to--"

He was interrupted by the belt cracking over his cheek, instantly turning it a deep, angry shade of red, a small cut welling up with droplets of blood.

He stayed quiet, curling once more into himself as she prepared for another blow.

"Shut the fuck up! All you ever do is talk, you don't fucking stop! I'm sick of it!" She howled, landing blow after blow on his back, the cigarette dropping to the floor, singing a shallow hole into the wood.

"Talking is what gets you in trouble!"

"Stop!" You sobbed desperately, finally finding the strength within you to stand, rushing forward to try and tackle the woman, to get her off of her son. His eyes caught yours briefly, and you felt a protective urge well up in your chest in your bid to help the poor boy.

Your eyes burned badly, almost feeling that child's pain as if it were your own. He was bleeding... You could have sworn you had reached for her, but...

You slipped right through her like she wasn't even there.

You pushed yourself to your knees, staring at your hands in shock, looking back up at her as she slapped the thick belt across his back again, earning a weakened shudder from the young boy.

His eyes stared at you openly, dumbly, silently pleading for help, his bloody lip wobbling as more tears tracked down his cheeks, one of his eyes already beginning to swell from the cut and welt the belt left in his face.

You looked up at her and gritted your teeth, reaching up to try and grab the belt, but once again to no avail; you slipped through her like you were a ghost. Some... specter cursed to watch this torture unfold but never stop.

"Fuck!" You cursed, a sob creeping up from your chest as you crawled over the poor boy.

Unlike his mother, you could actually touch him. You could feel his wracked sobs, the trembling he tried to hide.

You laid your body over his, crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

The belt slipped right through you, unleashing more pain.

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Marc didn't know he was screaming until Layla had rushed up to him, her big beautiful eyes wide and frantic, her hair only half-tucked into her silk bonnet as she reached out for him.

"Marc--"

Her voice became strangled as his fist lunged, wrapping around her slender throat as he tackled her to the ground, his mind and heart pounding with adrenaline and fear; tears dripping down and falling onto her cheeks as his eyes glowed an unearthly white.

Only when he looked up at his reflection, the linen and magical garb beginning to enshroud his body, did he see it all.

His own wide, fearful eyes staring back at him through the full body mirror across from the bed. Layla pinned beneath him.

"Marc!"

Layla kicked her feet out, her hands trying to pry his from around her neck.

Marc scrambled back and away, hyperventilating, until his head collided with the bookshelf behind him, rocking it back so a few of the books Steven so loved clattered to the floor.

Marc curled into a ball, his fists tight as he ducked his head beneath his arms, rocking on his heels.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" He repeated over, and over, and over...

Layla coughed slightly as she gasped for air, hauling herself to her feet to rush and collapse next to Marc, touching his back gently.

"Marc, it's okay!" She tried desperately. "You were dreaming! Just breathe, you need to--"

Marc just shook his head, his mind frantically tripping over itself in an effort to see past his panicked haze.

Where was Jake? Why wasn't Jake here? Why didn't Jake save him from this like he normally did?

Why did Jake let him almost--

Layla wrapped her arms around his shoulders softly, rocking with him, "It's okay... It's okay... She can't hurt you anymore." She murmured, touching her head to his.

"Just breathe."

Marc sniffled, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as a broken sob came from him.

"I didn't mean it." He whispered, his voice stuttering with emotion.

"Marc..." Layla said, her brows pinching tightly together as she felt her heart break for him.

This had happened before, many times. He would have flashbacks in his sleep, thinking he was back to being a child under the domineering and abusive hand of his mother, suffering horrible pain because of the inaction of his father because of their grief over his dead baby brother.

But... something about this time was different. Strange.

Jake was the one who went to sleep, last night. Jake was the one she traded pot-shot jokes with about his "friendly dates" with you...

When did Marc come to the forefront?

When he finally calmed down enough to speak, his hand reached out to brush her neck, fresh bruises already blossoming on her olive skin. "I did this."

His voice was so... broken. Lost. In pain.

Gods, it killed her.

"It's okay. You were having a nightmare. It's normal to come out of them in a fight-or-flight response." Layla shushed gently, rubbing his back and tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear.

Marc shook his head, shoving himself away from her, to... to put some distance between them, to protect her from him, what else he might be capable of doing to her.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed, staring morosely at the floor, before furiously rubbing at his tears.

"This--this wasn't like last time, damn it!" He sniffed as Layla slowly sat next to him, her body movements calculated as though she were approaching an injured animal.

"It was different?"

"There--there was somebody else there this time." Marc replied, hanging his head into his hands.

"Somebody else?" She asked, her eyebrows rising sharply. "Who?"

"I... I don't know. It sounded like a woman but... But it was like her voice was underwater." He whispered.

Layla's heart skipped a beat, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"What did she look like?"

"I don't know." Marc said again, running a hand through his hair stressfully.

"I could see her, but I--couldn't. She was--she was like a blob of glowing light, but... but I know it was a woman!"

"Did she... say anything?"

He lifted his dark, haunted eyes to stare deeply into hers.

"I'm sorry."

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Chapter 13: Link

[fic-heaven]

Enemies to lovers with König and witty reader? I don't know if you also write about him so imma leave this here

Answering two anons at the same time lmao

Say my name (König x witty! Reader)

Pt.2 now!

🐥 The first time König appeared on my drafts was when I was making my last Reyes x Reader fic and um... I kind of wanted to keep doing lmao so here it is. Sorry for my broken English-

Angst/ SOCIAL ANXIETY/ slight nsfw/ open ending (if you guys want a part two and this short gets some attention)

⚠️ I still picture König as Lee Pace ⚠️

.

They say you transfered from SpecGru to KorTac because you simply wanted a change of airs. But it couldn't be that simple. Why were you so simple?

As antisocial as he seemed to be, König was well aware that a bond between teammates was needed in order to sync and function properly during missions. He wasn't the best at striking up conversations and never intended to improve on this aspect either, often trying to figure people out from the distance, he only approached them if he had questions about their character. Horangi once said it was weird but König frankly didn't care about what was socially accepted or not, he just made the effort to know his team because it was expected of him, and as great as it would be to have friends, he struggled socializing and had given up trying ages ago. König was paid to kill, not to make friends. And as far as his interactions went with his teammates, the only one who gets his game and could be considered his friend is Horangi. But you?

He had tried to investigate you, even going as far as using his position as colonel to gather as much information from your background to understand you without having to make any awkward approach. But nothing he found explained why you changed factions or why you behaved the way you did. You had a normal childhood, went to a good school, graduated being top of your class... Jesus you had a rabbit called Mr. Whiskers, even the deepest info given was borely normal. No trace of trauma or any mental disorder.

König begun studying you like a biologist would to a newfound species and got more and more invested and frustrated the more information he gathered, because he simply couldn't excuse your... Well, your everything.

He approaches you one time during morning drills, looks you up and down as you stretched, ignores the flirty comment you shot his way, because what the fuck is your problem? You don't know him. Then König proceeded to mouth the first thing he ever said to you, one of the main questions he had on his head as to why you would behave so strangely. And it goes like this: "Do you have any mental illness, hm?"

"I might have, yeah."

And you said it so casually. Do you, though? Are you being sarcastic or... God he hates you. Why can't he figure you out!? Why do you smile at him so much? Why do you flirt so much with him? Do you flirt with the others the way you do with him?

That new question made him observe your body language around others and listen carefully to any interaction you had and found nothing but your enchanting witty self. Of course you teased other members, but never so bluntly like the way you flirt with him. The colonel felt weirdly relieved at this. Maybe he liked the attention given? Scratch that, or course not!

One time after a tiring mission in Barcelona, Spain, König approached you with a bottle of water, you thanked him with a wink and he watched you swallow the whole thing before he proceeded to ask you the second question that plagued his mind: "Do you perhaps hide some secret trauma that permanently changed your behaviour, using sarcasm, smirks and jokes to protect your scared inner child in order to not get hurt again?"

"Hmmm... The day I found out my mother was Santa Claus I went bananas, but I wouldn't say it scarred me for life. Do ya want an M&M, colonel?"

He fucking hates you. He hates you. König aggressively snatched a handful of M&M's and stormed away. That night he swore he could hear your laugh echoing inside his head. Why couldn't you leave his fucking mind? What was it with you? Were you doing it on purpose?

_____

You were definitely doing it on purpose.

You have to be patient with König. But he was so hilarious and scary, it thrilled you to watch the two meter tall behemoth of a man walk near you and sneak watchful, calculated glances your way when he thought you weren't looking. If someone dared to ask, you'd easily answer with the honesty everyone knew you posses: You'd fuck König without a thought.

He's so feral in battle, so demanding and intimidating on the comms. His ridiculous voice made him all the more adorable contrasting with his appearance. Oh fuck that. Even his appearance was ridiculous, he looked like the red guy from that creepy show called "Don't hug me, I'm scared" or one of those executioners from the Shrek movie. But he was HOT, with that slutty waist accentuated by his bulky back, those long slender arms that could lift anything on his way, you saw him lift a fucking car a few inches so an injured woman could scape, and as she cried of relief you could feel your pussy crying as well at the sight. And oh his hands... The way he used them, so elegantly but rough, they'd make a beautiful necklace. His voice, as unfitting as it sounded coming from this KorTac monster, made you itch to hear more, his accent was so attractive that it quickly made you addicted to sound of it and your brain pondered on how he'd sound while doing other things. Lucky you, when the stars aligned and you two coincided in the gym you made sure to be close enough to hear the quiet grunts and sighs from the colonel as he trained, to your surprise he never moved away as if he knew what you were doing and thought nothing much of it. Safe to say, you'd gladly eat whatever interaction König graced you with with a speck of salt.

______

Though, when you begun paying attention to the details (because it was hard to guess his deal without seeing his face) You noticed a few hints about the colonel that indicated he had a severe case of social anxiety. The way he self isolated, how he forced himself to interact with people resulting in very awkward conversations that led to him coming up as rude to what he got frustrated and scaped the situation, how he loved his job because you were convinced that he thought he was only good at killing.

That made you wonder if he had other hobbies... It's funny to imagine a tall, muscly guy like him baking or making origamis.

Today you saw the ultimate sign that your big crush wasn't a people's person.

You directed all the attention to König by asking a number of things, (obviously work related) that caught the attention of everyone in the room taking the poor colonel by surprise, his cristal blue eyes widened for a minute before he composed himself answering everything you asked with a professional tone until you spotted the tremble on his hands, poor König noticed your attention drift to his hands so he slid them under the table. That's how you knew it. He couldn't handle being the center of attention for prolonged amounts of time. Your poor baby...

You two were on a meeting with some other KorTac members. König was peeling an apple and had finished it rather quickly as all of you spoke, but he spent ten minutes with the carcass of the fruit slowly browning and drying on his hand, so you decided to test your theory by walking to the near trashcan to throw a random paper you crumbled quickly, after a few seconds König abruptly stood up to throw the dried fruit remnant, the tall Austrian glanced your way before he sat again and kept to himself.

Okay, so judging by this and how stiff he looks, König doesn't know exactly what to do with his body around people, he needed an excuse to stand up and throw the finished apple so he waited for anyone to use the trashcan to go after, BUT he waited a few seconds to stand so he wouldn't look like he was waiting. Must be stressful to be on his shoes. Interesting, but maybe you were overthinking too much, so you decided to do a final test that would definitely tell you if what you thought was right. You didn't want to come to this unless it was really necessary... But you'll probably have to apologize later.

You gave him a sympathetic look that again took him by surprise, but by that time König had called the meeting over, gathered his things and walked out before you could approach him.

Damn you and your stupidly beautiful voice and worried eyes trying to comfort him discreetly.

Gloved hands fidgeted with the bracelet on his wrist. König remembers the little girl who gifted him said thing. The day him and his team rescued her and some other orphans from a building about to explode, the worried colonel spent a few minutes comforting the little girl until she pulled the orange bracelet from her small SpongeBob backpack, he chuckled at the gesture and had never taken it off since. They even shared some letters from time to time, he held a piece of little Astrid in the form of a cute bracelet and she held a piece of him in the form of sweet spoken letters.

König saw her kind eyes in yours and it squeezed his heart so much he felt suffocated. Why would a teasing little vixen like you have such kind, gorgeous eyes? It was weirdly comforting that someone would look at him so softly like he wasn't a monster for once after so long.

His heart begun beating faster, his head was so full of questions about you it infuriated him. Long legs carried the colonel to the gym absentmindedly, like his body craved to ease some tension, but at the last minute he turned to the left corridor further from the gym, went to the right and finally approached the shooting range's door.

"Scheibe..." König cursed lowly, he could have very well bursted the door out of it's hinges, his gloved hand (still a bit shaky) took his favorite riffle from the top right corner of the shelf while he shot a backward kick to push the metallic door closed. He spent fourteen minutes shooting targets while mauling at your last interaction, rage swirled his insides and yet he couldn't fully hate you for asking questions, after all it was work-related, and the last soft gaze you gave him spoke volumes that you didn't want to advert all the attention to him out of malice. König was reloading his sniper rifle when he heard a gentle thud indicating someone had entered the room.

"You'd make an amazing sniper." You spoke softly trying not to startle the tense man.

"You come to mock me? Laugh all you like. I'm well aware I'm too huge to be a sniper." He spoke in resentment over his shoulder before redirecting his focused gaze to the target ahead.

"I always say size doesn't matter! As long as you know how to handle your weapon, you'll make any girl blush."

Your dark humour takes König by surprise and he misses the dummy's head, he tries to hold back the chuckle that threatened to spill from his hidden lips. Luckily the shirt he wore as a mask shielded his face enough to make it look like he was holding in a cough or a sneeze but you weren't stupid. When he turns to face you placing the riffle to the near table he gets startled by how close you are, the smirk accompanying your lips as you weaseled close to his very sacred personal space made him curse lowly in his mother's tongue. The tall Austrian stepped back and you rose your hands in mocking defeat.

"Alright, I get it, personal space. Jus' wanted to hear ya laugh..."

"I didn't." He hisses.

"Didn't ya? I thought I heard it, must have been the wind."

Your sarcasm often infuriated König who never seemed to get a good grip on his English, so it was hard for him to detect when you were being serious or just pulling his leg. His hands flex on his sides, tiny waist move side to side as he balances his weight before he crosses his arms and leans his back to the wall. König raises a brow when your smirk morphed into a sincere apologetic smile as you admired his stance six feet apart from him.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there." You said honestly, he sucked in a breath. "Didn't want t' put ya on the spot."

König wasn't shy, he wasn't, but that last line of yours made him feel like it, and it wasn't an ugly feeling? But it was a little uncomfortable, foreign, it squeezed his heart in a weird way, his hands were clammy, he felt strangely light like if it wasn't for his tapping foot on the floor he'd float away. König understood what you were saying and it comforted him that you were on the same page, the weird unsteadiness between the two of you becoming rather unbearable and a constant topic on both your minds, it was relieving that you thought the same way. Suddenly the ugly, unexcused anger he had for you quieted down.

The Colonel's cerulean eyes widen before lowering his gaze to your tank top blinking rapidly. It was easier to listen if he wasn't looking directly at your eyes.

"König..." Your voice was honey making shivers run up his spine and his skin erupt in goosebumps, his hands trembled even when he fisted them on his crossed stance. "Why don't we start again? Call me paranoid, but I feel like there's tension between us and not the type I'd like."

The colonel lifted his hand your way offering you a handshake you took with mirth.

"I'm colonel König. Y-you are...?"

"Goddamn. Ain't your parents bit' egotistical? Namin' their baby boy 'king' in german." You say with a snicker shaking his hand. He takes it back abruptly but you don't flinch. "I'm Sargeant (c/n). My name is (y/n) (l/n). Is König the name written on your birth certificate or were you called somethin' else?" You press teasingly but wary and a bit nervous thinking you were pushing too far.

König is taken aback by this. When was the last time someone had asked the colonel his name?

"I am..." It tasted foreign on his tongue, like he had forgotten the sound of it, the taste of his own name on his tongue. "My name is Andreas Dobler." He said, his eyes meeting yours. "That's... That's my name." His name wasn't König, he remembers the man he left behind all those years back, the man under the dark cloak, before things went to shit, before becoming colonel König.

"Andreas. What a curious name, never heard of it-"

"Say my name again." König interrupts. His voice weak but demanding and desperate. He loved it. He loved the sound of his name on your lips. It was strange, sweet... Arousing, even.

You blinked angling your head up to take a better look at his half-lid eyes. This time König didn't look away, your eyes met and suddenly the ugly tension from before was morphing into another type of tension, your heart beats faster in sync with his. You didn't know you were getting closer until König placed a hand on your waist and then the other, not pushing, not pulling, he simply laid them there and it came so naturally, your playful smile wavered slightly as your hands landed on his shoulders, he shivers. You tilted your head to the side and he was so lost in you, your aroma, your eyes, your lips, your touch, he didn't realize he was returning the head tilt.

Your lips parted, pink tongue darting to hydrate your dry lips until your pearls were visible from the gap, and his eyes catch every movement your mouth makes when you whisper "Andreas."

"Again."

"Andreas-"

"Again..."

"...Andreas..." Your hands slowly move to his chest, his breath hitches. His name has never sounded so sensual whispered by anyone's mouth. You were... You...

"You..." He isn't sure what to say. You are not sure either, suddenly your wit has abandoned you it seems. "You intrigue me." He decides to huff out, accent heavily pronounced.

There's a thousand thoughts swirling on König's mind, he has shared his name but it suddenly didn't feel enough, he wanted to show you who he was, his past, his thoughts, his hopes and dreams, even his face. How can a simple woman like you make König feel so much? Because you were no simple woman. That's why when he felt your small hands slide up his chest to the hem of the shirt that composed his mask, König didn't tense up, in fact, his shoulders relaxed embracing the touch of your fingers gently feeling his neck under the cloth, his stubble, his chin, his high cheeks... Gloved hands grab your wrists.

You stop, still looking up at him noticing the heaving of his chest and how lost in awe his gaze seemed.

"Not yet?"

"I-i... Do not..." Mind. He didn't want to refuse your touch but at the same time it was so overwhelming.

You give a small nod, König lets go of your wrists and you take this opportunity to nuzzle his cheeks, he gasps landing his hands on your waist once more, squeezing the flesh over your tank top. The feeling of your fingers on his face was so foreign it felt like you were touching a piece of his soul.

"Shy lil' thing... Aren't you pretty hiding under there? Maybe you are too beautiful to allow anyone the pleasure of a simple look. Like a sweet Ferrero Roche firmly wrapped and ready to be eaten." You whisper, voice raspy before you chuckle when his Adam's apple bobs with a swallow. Your body is now pressed compleatly against his, your dear colonel's hands tremble on your sides as he fists your tank top. He's nervous, he's shy, but you know he is enjoying this judging by the way his teary, half-lid eyes blink slowly every time you feel and scratch a new inch of skin.

"Don't you worry, darling..." König lets out a small whimper at this. "I'm rushing things ain' I? We were just getting on the first name basis and I had to screw it all..." You wanted to sound apologetic, you promise, but it was so hard when your colonel was practically purring at the feeling of your soft hands scratching his stubble. König was putty on your hands, he has never felt this way. His cheeks burn in embarrassment, he tries to move back but remembers he's already against the wall, and you, a small thing like you have him cornered like a honey badger hunting a mountain lion. His lip wobbles and he tilts his head to the side as he feels your hands massage and explore his neck and jaw in long, gentle motions. The pads of your fingers gracing every inch of his neck muscles.

"...Sag bitte mehr, ich flehe dich an..." (Say more please, I beg you.) König moans out, his german accent sounding strong masking how weak he was feeling at the moment.

He loved your voice, your touch... Your everything. The colonel ran his fingers on your lower back encouraging to continue, meanwhile he very slowly tilted his head higher allowing you more space on his neck to massage and scratch. You chuckle darkly feeling his member poking at your belly, your body instantly pressing harder against his cornered torso.

"You like the sound of my voice, colonel?" You humm, he makes a small noise. "Andreas...?"

His shoulders shake with the force of his shiver, nails digging deliciously on your lower back, you chuckle delighted at the sight tilting his chin to the other side to feel his nape, his ear and some locks of hair. "ich begehre dich..." The Austrian groans, his member now fully erect twitched delighted by the delicious pressure of your torso against it and your soft ministrations to his neck.

Both your radios churr alive until a voice breaks the static, a random operator checking on the comms. König almost knocks you over with how fast he straightened his back and the way his strong grip held you back, his chest heaving fast, eyes wide and vulnerable. You take the opportunity to grab him by the hem of the shirt he uses as a mask.

"Wait-..."

König freezes when he feels cold air hit the heated skin from his neck. You had lifted a portion of the cloth revealing the part you were previously massaging, caressing and scratching just under his chin, careful not to reveal his face. His head moves up to the side trying to hide from your touch, his hands shoot backwards planting on the wall as if a force had taken them from the previous grip he had on you. In truth he was afraid he'd crush your waist.

"I hope you can forgive me colonel... Can't help it..."

There's a long gash on his neck, a very old scar that seemed to be product of a knife fight or even a bullet, it's crocked and it goes up probably to his right ear. You lean close on tiptoes because he couldn't crouch due to how shocked he still felt, and you planted your wet lips on the surface of the sensitive scar. König's throat rumbles with a groan, his powerful hands finally make the move to take you, to cage your body impossible closer to his. A hard roll of his hips make him gasp in relief and you loudly huff when he twirls you to where he was previously caged, his hands soon making small effort to lift you up, both legs wrapped around his waist and he THRUSTS stabbing your cargo pants. You are still kissing, licking and nibbling his neck, your hands explore the long bulky surface of his back, König moans delighted at one particular bite until-

"Oh. Shit."

König turned his head back so fast you are sure it made his neck rotatory, two pairs of eyes look in shock at Horangi who is standing there holding the rifle König had previously left before all of this happened. Your colonel was frozen in embarrassment his shaking hands still held you up and his boner was no longer stabbing you, the thing died at the speed of light when the Korean made presence.

"Jesus Christ. You gonna keep staring or you wanna join us, tiger?"

König snaps his head back at you comically fast, icy eyes glare in surprise, horror and astonishment.

"As fun as that sounds I'll leave you two to your games... 'sides, I don't think you'll be able to handle König alone, imagine the two of us. We'd ruin you." The Korean's response made you laugh enchanted by his wit, he walked out the door in quick strides leaving you two alone once more.

König huffs glaring at the wall behind you. The sudden unwelcome presence of his friend seemed to had robbed the magic from the moment. Your Colonel's body shagged slowly lowering your body, and the moment your heels touched the ground his head leaned down falling to the crock of your neck, the feeling of the warm cloth of his mask made you humm. He kissed your clavicle over his mask and you ran your hands to his shoulders until König slowly retrieved.

He took two steps back, with a very noticeable defeated look.

"Hey. We can keep going whenever yer up to. Don't look at me like that, sweet thing." Your voice carried a playfulness that comforted him from the sudden feeling of defeat.

König couldn't meet your eyes, his voice was shaky "I'm just not like this-..."

"Andreas-"

"DON'T -...!" He barked, startling you both.

It was too much, too sudden, too weird, too suffocating. He liked it at first but... König couldn't put into words what he was feeling right now. He hated that the moment was cut short, he hated that he felt like it was his fault and he hated the way you are looking at him with so much concern like when you two were at the meeting.

"Verzeihen Sie mir." He muttered giving you a final short glance before he rushed out of the place leaving the door open and your startled self still leaning on the wall.

You recognized those words even if you didn't know much of German.

"Forgive me." You translated in a whisper.

Will you?

[fairysluna]

NOT THE BEST IDEA — Modern!AU | Part 3

MASTERLIST | Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: the aftermath of the fight is making you feel like your old self again. Cregan noticed something is wrong and decides to do something to cheer you up, however things don't go as planned as an unwanted guest arrives.

Tags/TW: angst, smut (p in v, kinda public sex bc they are in open space) and fluff, mentions of panic attacks, emotional instability and emotional attachment, manipulation, aegon being oblivious but cute.

Author's Note: not gonna lie, I did struggle writing this part bc my mind wasn't working lmao, but I hope you like this either way. big credits to the anons who sent their ideas !! I didn't proof read it so, sorry if there's mistakes

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @mysticgothicgirl @aemondswifeisme @issshhh @serrhaewin @loglady00 @melsunshine @izzy-the-ginger @champomiel @iiamthehybrid @ghostheartbeat

Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!!

Cregan hissed when he felt the little piece of cotton brushing against the cut on his cheekbone. You tried your best to clean the wound, getting rid of the dried blood while your mind was so lost in your thoughts that you barely heard him complaining about the slight pain he felt with each touch.

Your mind was now a mess, and it was quite hard to hide that aspect from Cregan, who was carefully looking at your lost eyes, knowing that you were drowning in your own thoughts and knowing that you were replaying the prior scene over and over again. It was quite impossible for him to wonder whether your feelings towards him have changed now that you saw Aemond after a long time, his own insecurities and your reactions towards the situation made him doubt himself.

He tried not to think about it, but you were so quiet, so lost in the memories that once tormented you. Cregan tried to give you space for you to talk first and whenever you felt comfortable enough to do it, but the anxiety was eating him alive, taking the best of him. After a while, the silence was starting to bother him, it managed to feel too loud inside his head.

Once he finally decided to speak, his voice came out as dubious and insecure, a bit lower than he expected, "How are you feeling?"

His question seemed to have woken you up from the trance you were in, because your lost stare suddenly moved away from his wound to reach his eyes. You looked down at him with a small, tiny smile that flickered and trembled, showing your restlessness quite clearly.

"I should be the one asking that," you joked, trying to make you feel like yourself again, and not as a wandering body with a lost mind.

However, your words did not seem to amuse Cregan, who remained serious as he spoke again,

"I'm talking about Aemond," he added. Your hands stopped their movements and your whole body went still. The tension in your shoulders was visible to the man in front of you, who immediately noticed the nervousness in your body language. "What are you feeling about Aemond now?" He asked again.

"I'm feeling nothing, Cregan," you replied, without hesitation.

"It didn't seem like nothing a few seconds ago," he accused you, using an odd tone that you have never heard in him before, which made you feel uneasy, "were you thinking about him?"

You scoffed, "what? you're telling me you're jealous now?"

"He was staring at you the whole time!" He exclaimed, pointing it out as if it was obvious, "eating you with his eyes like a creep."

"That's nonsense," you scoffed, shaking your head.

"Nonsense?" he repeated, offended.

"Whatever happened between Aemond and me is in the past, I can assure you that," you tried to go back to what you were doing, but Cregan leaned back as a sign that the conversation was not over yet. You pressed your lips, starting to lose your patience, "he has a girlfriend, Cregan."

"Well, if he has a girlfriend I guess he was willing to cheat on her with you," he spoke mockingly, almost in a bitter tone, "he told me that with just a few minutes alone with you he will have you eating from the palm of his hand again."

The shock came over your body as you took a step back. Your eyes widened as your brows furrowed with confusion and bewilderment; you blinked a couple times, slowly shaking your head.

"What are you talking about?" you questioned incredulously.

"I told him to stop looking at you, to stop being so obsessed and creepy... and he beat me up because of it."

"We're talking about the man that a year ago made me have a mental breakdown because he did not love me back," you raised your voice, trying to convince him… and yourself, "why would he fight you over me when he was very clear when he told me he did not love me anymore?"

"He's jealous, y/n."

"It's been almost two years, Cregan," you sighed, "I'm sure Aemond has no feelings for me anymore."

"But do you have feelings for him?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "now you're being stupid."

"Answer the question."

"Are you serious?" you asked surprised.

"Yes, I am serious," he stood up, and immediately you looked up at his face, "do you still have feelings for him?"

"Of course I don't!" You said loudly, as if raising your voice would make the words carve into his brain.

He took a small pause, as if he was thinking whether to say the next question or to just stay silent. The first option seemed to have won.

"Do you love me?"

His words made you tilt your head, as if he was asking something so obviously stupid that it didn't even need an answer. You saw how he regretted asking that in the same instant his words left his mouth; he blushed. You left the cotton and the pomade on the nightstand and cupped his face between your hands. You caressed his cheeks while you directly stared at his beautiful brown eyes, you stood on your tiptoes trying to reach his lips and leave a soft kiss on them. Cregan sighed, closing his eyes and burying his face on your neck.

"I love you." you whispered, stroking his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist. "Aemond is my past now, I promise you that."

"I know, I'm sorry. I was stupid," he muttered against you, holding you close, "I love you too."

You sighed, stroking his thick brown hair as he caressed your waist. You could feel the insecurity in his voice which made you feel guilty, thinking that there might have been some reaction that had given him the impression of you still having feelings for Aemond. And that wasn't the truth at all.

Right?

As you have told your boyfriend, Aemond was now long forgotten. However, it was a bit shocking for you to learn all the things that he had said to Cregan, and the reason why their fight started in the first place. You have thought everything had begun because of their past, thinking that Cregan may have said something that might upset him.

Aemond was a very patient person. He was collected and calm, always trying to avoid big problems. That's why it was a big surprise for everyone, including you, seeing him act so… feral. It was uncommon for him to react in that way. Perhaps he had troubles with his girlfriend and that caused him to be in a bad mood. Perhaps seeing Cregan after many years had affected him somehow. There must've been an explanation for his sudden and violent behavior, but him having feelings for you was not an option you would believe to be true.

Later that night, while Cregan was peacefully sleeping between your arms with his head on your chest and your hand on his hair, you started to do what you tried to avoid; you thought about Aemond. The questions and doubts in your mind resulted in a sleepless night in which you spent the darkest hours staring at the ceiling, hearing your boyfriend's calm breathing and soft snoring.

You did not understand it. When you saw him you were certain that you felt nothing for him, not even a small tinkle on your gut, but why are you still awake thinking about him now?

It was two in the morning when your phone started to vibrate. You frowned, curious to know who is calling you at this hour, and you stretched your arm to reach for it before the noise could wake up Cregan. You saw it was an unknown number, which you would usually ignore, but now you felt the need to pick up. So you did.

"Hello?" you answer in a whisper.

In the other line you could hear an uneven breathing that was a bit creepy, perhaps it was a sign that told you to hang up the phone, but you didn't. Instead, you eyed Cregan who was still soundly sleeping between your arms, you sighed.

"Hello?" you repeated, a bit louder this time.

No one answered again. You were about to hang up when you finally heard something. Although you wish you hadn't heard it at all.

"I miss you, y/n."

And then, the call ended. You froze, almost throwing your phone across the room due to the panic you felt. Your breathing became faster, and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode. You saw your phone, now showing a picture of you and Helaena in fourth grade as the hour showed up on the screen.

3.42 am.

You moved again, placing your phone back on the nightstand with a quick movement that managed to wake up Cregan. He blinked a couple times, yawning as he stretched his body, and looked at you with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay, love?" his raspy voice reached your ears as a soft touch. It brought some peace to your endless turmoil.

You slightly nodded, trying to remain calm even though you were visibly shaking. Luckily for you, Cregan was too sleepy to notice it.

"Yes, I'm- I'm fine…" you whispered, "I just had a bad dream."

Gods, how you wish it was just that; a bad dream.

"Come here," he muttered, slowly shifting his position until he wrapped his arms around your frame, holding you close to his body, "I'm here, okay? Wake me up if you have another nightmare."

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his warmth surrounding your shaky body. He kissed your forehead before whispering a small 'I love yous' and falling asleep once again. It took you some time to close your eyes, still hearing that voice that you knew too well. Those four words that made you want to fade into the air.

Your body curled up against Cregan, hugging him tightly, trying to hold him close to you as if that would be enough to erase Aemond's voice from your mind; but it wasn't. The only thing on your mind were curses directed to that silver haired man that once ruined your life, and who seems eager to keep messing with you.

The next few days were a blur in your mind. Aemond once again managed to keep you away almost every night as your mind was so confused to the extent that you barely have been able to be intimate with Cregan.

Of course he would never pressure you to do anything, but you knew him, and you were able to see the disappointment whenever he would kiss your neck and you would stop him, coming up with some excuse that might not be completely convincing.

He thought you needed a break from everything, you were working too hard, and he knew this whole situation with Aemond had put you in a complicated situation that had brought a lot of stress in your life. That's why he spoke to Helaena and they both started to plan a surprise visit to the lake house of Helaena's parents over the weekend.

At first it would be only you and him, but Aegon was around when they planned this little vacation, and he insisted he wanted to go too. Cregan did not have the heart to deny him, and so he also invited Helaena. That's how a romantic escape turned into an excuse to drink.

When Cregan gave you the news you couldn't help but feel so bad; he has been trying to make you feel better while your mind was still being invaded by Aemond and that call. You accepted it without hesitation, feeling too guilty to even try and think about rejecting the idea.

Friday came and Cregan, Helaena and you were in his car, driving towards the destination. Aegon had left on Thursday night in his own car. The trip was fun enough to make you think about something else, Cregan's hand was caressing your thigh during the whole ride, squeezing it every now and then as you cheerfully spoke and laughed with Helaena. He would glance at you, glad to see you laugh and look better. Your smile gave him the sign that he was doing the right thing, that this was an excellent idea.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Lake House. Cregan parked his car beside Aegon's and the three of you started to take your backpacks to the inside of the enormous house. Helaena called for Aegon, and you heard footsteps going down the stairs. All of you turned, expecting to see the eldest brother of Helaena, but it wasn’t him.

It was Aemond.

You and Cregan stood still in your places as the smug grin on Aemond’s face appeared, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Your heart stopped for a second, your breathing became heavier and your mind felt dizzy and blurry. Seeing him, standing there in the middle of the stairs, in this house which once was the biggest witness of the love and desire you used to hold for each other; you felt as if you were about to faint.

Helaena immediately looked at your direction, looking paler than she usually is. Her hands covering her ears as a sign of distress, her eyes were wide and full of surprise. You felt Cregan’s hand grabbing your waist tightly, as if he was trying to keep you by his side as Aemond started to speak

"It's been a while since we haven't reunited in this house," he pointed out, "now, we bought some things to make pizza for lunch, who's hungry?"

A dead silence was present in the room. His boldness was so shamelessly showing that you could not simply believe this was actually happening. His mere presence was enough to make you feel the urge to cry, no out of sadness but out of rage. You hated him for what he was doing to you, you were raging; your face almost turning red.

The silence was interrupted when Aegon walked down the stairs wearing his swimsuit and his face white with sunscreen. He was smiling widely, happy to see you all but oblivious of the tension that was currently in the room.

"You finally are here!" he happily said up, hugging you first. Cregan barely let you go of his grip, keeping you close, "I brought Aemond too, I thought we should do this like the old times, remember?"

"Aegon…" Helaena whispered, shaking her head as a sign that told him that something was not right.

Aegon frowned, "why those serious faces? Did you two fight on the way here?" Those words seemed to have amused Aemond, who shamelessly smiled widely, "come on guys, don't be such a bummer, we need to leave our differences aside to cheer this pretty lady up!" He grabbed your hand and kissed it gently.

For the first time, Cregan acted jealous towards Aegon, pulling you closer to him in a subtle movement that only you noticed.

"Helaena, y/n, why don't you chop the vegetables while we prepare the dough for the-"

"Excuse me, I'll go to the room first," you interrupted him, walking towards the stairs and bravely walking past Aemond.

Your perfume left a trail that he breathed in, closing his eyes and enjoying your scent; so delicious, sweet, showing the innocence you once had when you first started your relationship with him. He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. Cregan soon followed you, and he purposely pushed Aemond's shoulder with his when he walked by his side.

Once you entered the room, you started to breath fast and unsteady, you tried to collect yourself before you had a panic attack that would certainly ruin everything. You were pacing back and forth around the room that was designated to you by Alicent the first time you came to the house when you were ten.

So many memories were flooding you, especially once you saw the bed, which was the same bed where Aemond took your virginity. You wanted to cry, to escape, everywhere you looked in that house was a memory of your disastrous relationship with him, you really wished to run away. Jumping out of the widow was not the best idea, and going back to the entrance either. You started crying once you felt the thick and comforting arms of your sweet boyfriend wrapping you as you looked out of the window.

He started to kiss your temple, holding you close as you silently wept.

"I'm so sorry, my love…" he whispered, "If I had known he was going to be here I wouldn't have brought you here."

You turned around, only to bury your face on his chest. He was quick to stroke your hair, swinging you softly from one side to another, soothing you and making you feel somehow safe.

"I won't let him get close to you, I swear it,” he promised you, “if I see him putting one hand in your body I'm going to break his bones." he cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs as he kissed your forehead, "you're safe with me, you know that, right?"

You hiccuped, nodding.

"And you know I love you so, so much, right?" You sobbed.

Cregan smiled, his soft haze staring down at you with devotion and genuine love, "of course, my love… and I love you too."

He brushed his nose against yours, still caressing your wet cheeks when the door was open suddenly. Helaena walked in with her face filled with regret and angst. Your gaze softened and you slowly pulled away from Cregan.

"I'm so sorry, guys…" Helaena whined, "I didn't know he was coming, when I called Aegon this morning he didn't say anything, I'm truly sorry, Cregan… I'm sorry-"

"No need to apologize, Hel," he told her, "it's not your fault. It's Aegon's," he muttered, obviously pissed.

"No," you quickly said, "he doesn't know what happened between me and Aemond… no one knows, just you and Helaena."

"Well, what do we do now?" The blonde girl asked, "should we stay here?"

Cregan shrugged, "it's y/n’s decision. We can ignore him for the weekend or we can grab our stuff and just leave."

You looked at Helaena,

"What do you think?" you asked her.

"Do what you think it's best for you, no one will be mad at you for it."

Your pride took the best of you. Your logic was simple; if you leave now, it would mean that Aemond had managed to intimidate you, which was obviously his purpose. It would mean that his mission of ruining your romantic escapade with Cregan was successful.You would not give him the pleasure of it. The power of screwing and messing with you again.

Your decision was simple; you just shook your head.

“We’re staying.”

A few hours later, when you had already eaten a delicious pizza made by Aegon, you decided to go and spend some time in the pool. Aegon was sunbathing, with a bottle of beer on his hand; Helaena was sitting at the border of the pool, with her legs on the water, and Aemond was reading some book while he laid on the pool chairs.

You and Cregan came out of the house grabbing hands and laughing. Aemond rolled his eyes trying to focus on his reading, but your chuckles were too loud to ignore.

You sat on the chair that was further from Aemond, Cregan sat in front of you and his huge back was on display for you. You smiled slightly once you saw some scratches on it, and you couldn’t help but blush as you grabbed the sunscreen and started to spread a layer of it on Cregan’s back.

Aemond was looking at your direction with a bitter look that no one seemed to notice, not even you.

Your hands were rubbing on Cregan’s back so delicately that it made him hum on many occasions. You would occasionally lean forward just to leave soft kisses on his soft skin.

“The sunscreen burns,” he said between breathy chuckles.

“You have a lot of scratches on your back,” you replied, with a tone that came out as worried. You were not able to see his face, but you know there was a wide smirk on it.

He leaned back a little, enough to get closer to you, “don’t act so innocent, love, you know very well why they are there.”

Aemond was able to hear those words, and he just stood up from his chair, walking inside the house. You looked at him, following his steps until he disappeared from your sight. You rolled your eyes as you kept covering your boyfriend’s back with soft caresses and small kisses.

Aemond’s torment continued as you both kept giving each other public displays of attention. It never stopped, it seemed to him that you were doing all of this on purpose. His ego made him think that you were doing this to make him jealous.

You spent the day hanging from Cregan's arms, kissing him and hugging him at each opportunity you have. It was not something unusual between you two; Cregan knew how touch deprived you were in your past relationship, especially because Aemond never gave you any kind of affection when you were in public, just small hugs and soft pats on your back.

Cregan wanted to show you how loved you were by him, which is why he always makes sure to give you all the things that Aemond never provided you. And he wasn't going to lie; he loved how annoyed Aemond would look whenever he wraps his arms around you. Cregan knew you were his now, and he loved to show how happy you were to the man that once had made you miserable.

Now the night arrived, you were around a small bonfire in the backyard. Cregan was talking with Aegon while you were braiding Helaena's hair. Aemond was nowhere to be seen, but you preferred it that way.

In some part of the evening you walked back inside the house, towards the kitchen. You were looking for ice in the fridge when you felt a presence behind your back. At first you thought it was Cregan, but when you sensed that familiar scent, you realized it was actually Aemond.

You turned around almost instantly, and the rage you felt this morning came back to your body.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, moving away from him.

"This is my kitchen," he shrugged.

You tilted your head, "No, why are you here?"

"Aegon invited me."

"Stop this, Aemond, I'm serious," you spoke harshly.

"I don't know what you mean, love," he put extra emphasis in that last word.

It made you shrink in your own place, and a weird sensation was installed in your gut. You did not like the way he said that, you immediately knew he had double intentions, and that only made you even more scared.

Aemond used to have a lot of power over you, the idea of him regaining that power made you feel frightened.

"The call at 2 am?" You reminded him, "Your sudden appearance here? You're telling me it was all a coincidence?"

He looked down at you, smirking as he remained silent for a few seconds while he looked around the kitchen.

"Do you remember this kitchen?" He asked, completely ignoring your prior words, "Because I remember it… I remember how soft your skin felt, the way I had to kiss you because you were being so loud, remember?" With each word he stepped closer and closer to you, making you feel small, and weak. "It was right here… in this counter."

Your cheeks flushed with his words, and you forced yourself to look away.

"Whatever you're trying to do, stop it right now, Aemond."

"I made you mine in almost every room of this house," he said softly, lifting his hand to touch your cheek. You just froze and your bottom lip started to shake, "including that bed where your boyfriend will sleep so soundly tonight."

"Stop bothering me, stop bothering us, please," you weakly said, at the verge of tears.

"That call… Why did you answer it in the first place?"

"It- it was an unknown number," you replied with a shaky voice.

Aemond's smirk became wider as he heard your words, "I've known you for years, my sweet y/n… you never pick up calls from unknown numbers," he chuckled softly, his thumb caressing your quivering lip, "you knew it was me, didn't you?"

You grabbed his hand, pushing it away from you. He hummed in disappointment.

"Stop it," you begged, "you're being mean."

"Mean?"

"You told me to move on, you broke up with me, why are you doing this?" you sighed, wiping the tears that started to fall down your rosy cheeks, "do you- dou you think I'm your fucking dog? That I'm going to run to your side every time you whistle? Fuck you, Aemond," you spat.

He cupped your face, forcing you to stare at his face. A sob escaped from your lips, your heart aching and beating so fast that you thought it would explode.

"I miss you, y/n," he muttered, leaning closer to your face. His tight grip makes it impossible to escape from his touch, "I want you back- I will have you back."

You pouted as your vision became blurry with tears, you shook your head, you needed to get out of the situation, but your body wasn't able to move.

"Stop this… please," you begged.

Aemond let go of your face, and kissed your forehead. A touch that felt so cold and odd, which left you with an overwhelming and indescribable feeling in your gut.

"You look so pretty when you beg me, my love."

He left the kitchen, and then you could breathe properly once again. You leaned over the counter, taking deep breaths until you could feel your heartbeats returning to their normal speed. Your body was still shaking, but at least you finally stopped crying.

Staying here with Aemond around was a terrible idea. You regret your decision, and now you wished you could turn back time to leave this goddamn house as soon as you found out he was here too. But it was too late.

"Here you are…" you heard a soft voice. You lifted your face and Cregan's eyes softened with the sight of you, "I thought you were in the bathroom."

He walked towards you, and cupped your face with a gentle touch, so different from Aemond's. You felt relieved when he did that, feeling his comforting embrace giving the peace you were craving for.

Cregan kissed you, so softly, so delicately. His hands caressing your skin with such devotion that made you melt in his arms.

While Aemond always made a mess out of you, Cregan was the one who always brought calmness to you. You loved him so much.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked you with that sweet tone of his that you so deeply adored.

You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, "Not really…" you whispered, putting your hands on his chest, "can we go somewhere else? Just the two of us?"

"Of course…" he replied without hesitation, "we can go to the lake, does that sound nice?"

You nodded, "it sounds perfect."

He kissed you one last time before grabbing your hand, leading you towards the door. A part of you felt guilty because you were leaving without letting Helaena know, but she will know you're safe. She knows you're with Cregan.

He lit up the flashlight of his phone and illuminated the dark path in front of you both. You were guiding him throughout the trees and bushes, until the moonlight pointed at your final destination. The lake looked even more gorgeous at night, as the moon was reflected on the calm waters. The sound of crickets and owls was the only thing you were able to hear; it was so peaceful and quiet, you both loved it.

You felt the calmness of your surroundings, the view, the sound of the place and Cregan's presence and embrace was enough to make you relax. Your body was no longer tense, and your jaw was unclenched. You took a big, deep breath, and you smiled at your sweet and loving boyfriend.

He smiled back,

"Better?" he spoke softly.

"Way better."

He held you in his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. You looked at the calm water and the urge to submerge your body in it was very tempting. Cregan seemed to have read your mind, for he started to get rid of his shirt, and then he unbuckled his pants.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "what are you doing?"

"Let's go for a swim… I know you want to," he said as he got rid of his jeans.

You bit your lip, "I didn't bring my swimsuit."

"You don't need one," he winked at you, before pulling down his underwear along with his pants.

"Oh, Gods…"

You felt the blush running to your cheeks as you saw him standing in front of you fully naked, you haven't been able to stop drooling over him. You covered your face for a couple minutes before looking around, just to make sure you were truly alone, and then you imitated his action.

After a few seconds, your clothes were folded in the grass right next to Cregan's, and he was holding your hand as he guided you towards the lake.

A small chuckle left your lips as you felt the cold water touching your feet. It gave you chills, the water was freezing cold, which made you shake and giggle.

When he saw you struggling, he let out a small breathy laugh. In a quick and sudden movement, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you up and forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. You sweetly smiled at him as you pressed your chest against his and hid your face on the crook of his neck.

Your warmth being so close to him was enough to arouse him. It's been days since the last time he touched you, and he was already starting to feel the absence of your lustful touch against his body. However, he tried to brush away the desire, because he didn't want you to pressure you. He would just wait.

Once the water reached your upper body, you laughed softly. Cregan was still holding you tight, hugging your waist as he kissed your shoulder. You were trembling due to the cold water.

"It's so cold, I'm freezing," you said as you shivered, still pressing yourself into his wide chest.

"It's okay, I'll keep you warm," he murmured, stroking your lower back.

You leaned back as he wrapped his big hands around your waist, swinging your body from one side to another. Your legs were still attached to his hips as your arms spreaded in the water. Cregan's eyes were fixed on your shape; the way you looked so peaceful with your eyes closed and under the dim moonlight, the way your hair was floating making you look ethereal and surreal.

His curious eyes wandered around your body, now looking at your neck, your collarbones -which still have those little maroon marks that he left behind-, and your pebbled nipples. The low temperature was causing you shivers in your body, and the way your body reacted was a clear proof of it.

Your eyes opened once you heard a sharp breath coming from him, and you found his dark eyes staring back at you with desire. You sit back up, placing your hands on his shoulders as you teased him by brushing your nose against his. After tortuous days, you finally felt the need to have him again. To feel his touch, so delicate and careful.

After feeling Aemond's roughness, you needed Cregan's gentleness.

Next thing you knew, your lips were pressed against his kissing him slowly and softly. He did not waste the time, and soon he was kissing you back, swirling his tongue against you as he sighed. You hummed in response, cupping his face as he tightened the grip on your waist. Everything felt so calm, there were only you two, the sound of your wet and slow kiss joined the sounds of the nocturnal nature around you.

Your hips started to move against his hardening length, and his hands soon reached your rear in order to control your movements as you rubbed yourself against him, stealing a loud moan from his lips. This action only made him more desperate for you, and he deepened the kiss as a proof of his neediness for your touch. He was devouring your lips as a starved man while his groans and your moans would be silenced by each other's mouths. He couldn't get enough of your sweet taste.

His hands left your arse to reach your breasts, fondling the soft skin and nipping your pebbled nipples.

"I've missed your body so fucking much…" he confessed between the kiss, "I need you so bad."

His last words came out as a slight whine that made you hum. Your fingers soon find their way to his thick brown hair, tangling your digits between his soft locks and pulling it softly as he leaned his head back. Your lips attacked his neck with wet kisses, and his hands squeezed your breasts making you whimper.

"They won't come near," you told him, your voice already showing how much you desired him, "No one will see, no one will hear."

"Go on," he growled, searching for your lips to kiss you again, "tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you," his hands went back to your arse, pressing you against his hardened length. You moaned against his lips, "come on, baby, say it."

You quickly succumbed to his words,

"Fuck me, please…" you begged in a sigh.

That was enough for Cregan to lift your body and align himself with your tight entrance. You were both so desperate for each other that you didn't even take the time to adjust to his big size as you would usually do. Your hips started to move against his hard thrusts while the water surrounding your bodies splashed and moved.

"Oh, fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, feeling your tight walls squeezing him so nicely, "so good for me… that's it."

His low and deep voice praising you had you moaning loudly, forcing you to close your eyes as he filled you so well. Cregan's face was buried on your neck, as he gripped your hips controlling your movements while you rode him, going up and down on his shaft. He was so deep inside you, touching every sweet spot that would make you shake and drool. Suddenly the coldness of the water was nothing compared to the heat of your lustful bodies begging for each other.

"Mhm…" you whimpered, "it feels so good, so, so good."

Cregan sighed, hearing your whiny voice made him twitch inside of you.

"Yeah?" he said in a teasing way while a subtle side smile was decorating his beautiful face.

"Yes… so good."

He trapped your lips in an erotic wet kiss that was far from being soft now. His tongue clicked against yours while he was touching every single part of your body. You both were so lost in the pleasure, in the feeling your bodies would experience while rubbing against each other.

You both were so blinded by the lust of the moment that none of you noticed a pair of eyes watching. Eyes that were filled with wrath, jealousy and contempt.

Aemond looked away, unable to keep watching that tortuous scene. He leaned his back against a tree as he looked at the dark night sky, his stare blurred with hatred. He was hearing you, your moans, whines and dirty words were too loud for him to ignore. They made him furious, blinded with rage.

He was the one that used to provoke you to make those sweet sounds, the one that had you shaking and squirming under his harsh touch. The only one who knew your body so perfectly, and the only one who could provide you with what you need without you even asking for it.

Under his resentful eyes, Cregan was just a distraction; a plaything you use to entertain yourself in your path back to him. At the end of the day, you will always belong to him.

At that moment, Aemond decided that he had to get rid of Cregan. He could not bear the idea of another man taking what he claimed first; your body, especially when that man was Cregan fucking Stark, the one who always took everything from him. Now he added you to the list, and Aemond will not allow it.

He had to get him out of his way.

Aemond left almost immediately, not wanting to hear this profanity any longer. He walked away from the lake, clenching his fists and his jaw as his scheming started.

Meanwhile, you were just coming down from your orgasm when you heard some leaves crackling in the distance. You quickly moved your head, looking around searching for the source of the sound.

"What is it?" Cregsn asked with his raspy voice.

"I heard something," you said, looking back at his face.

"It was probably just the wind, love…" he tried to play down the situation, soothing you with his comforting voice, "would you like to go back to the house?"

You looked around one more time before turning your head back at him. You shook your head before pecking his lips.

"No, let's stay here a little longer."

Cregan kissed you again, and before you noticed, he started to move his hips again, making you moan with surprise and blurring your mind.

"Gods…" you chuckled, "you're insatiable, aren't you?"

He grunted, smirking as he pushed deeper, "You're too fucking irresistible, baby."

As he started to thrust against you, you looked around one last time, just to be sure. You tried to focus on the pleasure that your boyfriend was giving you, but you couldn't help being creeped out; you could've sworn you saw a shadow moving between the trees, but that was probably just your mind playing tricks with you…

Right?

[itsasainz]

passionfruit | pierre gasly x reader

Summary: You’re pulling away, so is he. Neither of you can blame the other, it’s just the natural progression of things.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings/tags: anxiety, breakdown of a relationship, angst, minor implications of some mental health difficulties

a/n: never written for pierre, but here I am writing all this in a few hours. I don't know where this came from lmao. requests open <3

masterlist!

Listen

Seein’ you got ritualistic

Cleansin’ my soul of addiction for now

‘Cause I’m fallin’ apart, yeah

He can pinpoint the moment you realised you’d reached a stagnant point in your relationship with him to the minute; it had been early December — he had spent the fortnight after Abu Dhabi sorting everything out with Alpine, having wrapped things up with AlphaTauri within days of the last race. You’d flown back to London on the Tuesday after the race, leaving him in the Middle East with his new team — you still had a job, you’d reminded him, and that he’d see you in two weeks when he came to London to see you. It would be your third Christmas together, and you were spending it in France with him. Three weeks together, the longest you’d have spent together consecutively in months. He remembers the realisation in your voice, the two of you stood in a cramped South London flat you hated; still refusing to move to Milan.

“Pierre, we’ve had this planned for weeks.” you had said — there was no malice in your tone, a surprising lack of your usual heat. He remembers it striking him more deeply than he’d anticipated — the disappointment, and the overwhelming loneliness in your voice.

“Mon ange, there’s nothing I can do. It’s a team thing, I can’t start missing them before I’m even a proper member of the team.”

Your eyes never left his, a sense of judgement in the furrow of your brow. “Is Esteban going?”

He opened his mouth to say something, then a flicker of doubt arose. He’d thought he wasn’t, but now he thinks about it, the Frenchman had been discussing it with Elena only days ago. “I think so.”

“Then they’ve got one driver, they don’t need two. You’re double booked, and we’ve had this planned for weeks.”

He’d sighed — you understood exactly why he couldn’t just cancel, and he now understands that you wanted him to confirm to you that you were also a priority, and that he wasn’t only focused on work. He remembers the way you’d looked away from him, tears threatening to spill; it had felt disproportionate in the moment — crying because he couldn’t make it to dinner with your friends who he barely knew was dramatic. Now, he regrets his dismissal.

You’re asleep beside him, turned away, as curled up as you can be in a plane seat. He’d been surprised when you’d told him you were still coming to Bahrain, and then embarrassed that he’d assumed you wouldn’t come; did he really think that poorly of your relationship?

He’d realised, in his travels through January and February, his days away from you, that he can only really breathe when he’s with you; now though, you seem further away, like he’s never quite with you, even when he’s sitting inches away from you. He wonders if the closest you get these days is during sex, and hates the idea that nearly three years of your relationship might have come down to sex being the most emotional you can be with him. When was the last time you told him about your work anxieties or, for that matter, any of your actual emotions, deeper than a dismissive comment about being stressed or simply fine.

Appearances are maintained at the airport and the hotel, where you smile and kiss his friends on each cheek, laughing and joking with them like you’re not down, like you’re not avoiding his conversation. It persists into the weekend itself — you spend more time with Isa than with him, chatting in hospitality until he’s done, and then seem to immediately shut down, even if he knows you’ve had a good day. You’re brief with your affection until, seemingly suddenly on Friday evening, as he’s skipping through channels on the TV in the hotel room, you wrap yourself around him, ear pressed to his heart, breathing soft and hands cold. He’s puzzled, almost upset by your sudden affection, but he leaves his thoughts at a kiss to your temple. He falls asleep with you on top of him, your shampoo filling his senses.

The next day, after Quali, you apologise for his poor luck. Again, he finds himself blindsided; you’ve never been one to apologise for that which you can’t control. He turns it over in his head all night, once again finding your affection puzzling, and his reaction to it even more confusing, and decides he’s overthinking it. You fall asleep in his arms less often than he’d like, and he’s got to make the most of it.

Sunday has a stranger vibe still. You’re withdrawn, and he can probably count the words you share on his fingers. It’s impossible to know how to deal with it, or what to do or say to fix it. It’s that thought that he gets stuck on in the media pen after the race — what if it can’t be fixed? What if it’s not his responsibility to fix it?

When Charles asks if you’re coming out after the race, Pierre responds for you, given your absence. “No,” he says, “I think she’d rather stay in tonight.”

“Are you staying in?” Charles frowns. It’s admittedly unusual for Pierre to want to come out on nights like these without you at his side.

“Nah, I’m coming.” he assures his friend, leaving you a text to say he won’t be home until late.

Tension

Between us just like picket fences

You got issues that I won’t mention for now

‘Cause we're fallin’ apart

You want to say; points are impressive given where you started. You want to say; I’m proud of you. You want to see him, at the very least, but other than the ten minutes he spared for you after the race, you’ve barely spoken to him. His text is glaring up at you, a cruel joke.

He doesn’t want you here.

It’s the most logical explanation; he nearly jumped when you started cuddling on Friday, and barely any words have been shared. At least if you’re not speaking you’re not arguing. It doesn’t help that you’re down as it is, feeling like your brain has been fried by travelling and anxiety and the overwhelming feeling that you’re at the end of a chapter in your life. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t asked, hasn’t probed to find out more about your current state.

It’s not his responsibility, you keep reminding yourself, he’s your boyfriend, not your parent. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though. The debate has been circling your mind for hours. If he cares so much, why doesn’t he say anything when you’re like this. If you’re as grown as you think you are, why are you so dependent on his care?

There's a nineties RomCom on the TV — you leave it on in the background while you scroll back through your texts with Pierre, wondering when it got like this, when he started to feel so distant. Who started it? Is it possible to say it was either one of you? Is it salvageable?

A thought of breaking up passes through your mind, snagging on unwelcome thoughts. You know that of the two and a half, nearly three, years that Pierre has been your boyfriend, more than two of those years were blissful. But the past months are tainting it — if you were to break up, would your memories of his love be marred by how lacking it feels in these moments?

The thought that snags, catching like cotton on barbed wire, is that perhaps you have wasted the first half of your twenties being in love with a man who cannot love you like you need him to. You think of the nights out you’d vetoed to spend an evening with him, of the opportunities you’d passed on to be around when he was in London, or the things you’d missed by constantly jetting off to Milan or whichever Grand Prix he was headed to. You think of the hours of your life you’ve spent in airports, anxious and tired, uprooting your life to spend 24 hours with him, to cry two nights later when he dropped you off for your flight home. You think of the years of your life you’ve spent caught between where your home was — with him, or with the rest of your life. It wasn’t a fair comparison. It wasn’t fair to resent him for something he had repeatedly provided solutions for.

Nevertheless, it felt clearer now. You didn’t feel settled in his company the way you always had — no, now you felt anxious. Anxious about being enough for him, about how good of a wag you were, or how good you were at being his girlfriend, at doing everything you felt you should.

Passionate from miles away

Passive with the things you say

Passin’ up on my old ways

I can’t blame you, no, no

It’s strange, you realise, that your communication with Pierre suddenly spiked the moment you were apart. How could you feel closer to him from 600 miles away than you did when you were right next to him?

He’d been texting lots, the two of you telling each other about your days again, complaining about rude colleagues or getting excited over the smallest of things. Over the phone, he’d listened while you talked about how you’d been down lately, worried about work and friends and, though you didn’t say it, him. He’s loving, and you return it in earnest. You miss him more than you care to admit, and for a few seconds at a time, you get the sense he misses you too. There’s no bickering, not a cruel word said.

You’re doing most of the talking, that much is also true. He listens, which feels like an achievement, but you still catch yourself wondering if he’s absorbing what you’re telling him, or if he still thinks about you when you’re not on the phone or texting. You don’t tell him you’ve been crying more than usual, or that your anxiety is through the roof, nor do you tell him that whenever you try to find the source of your anxiety, your mind finds to him like a compass finds north. You don’t tell him that you’re biting your nails again, or that you keep making mistakes at work.

Midweek, you’re in your kitchen, cutting a passionfruit in half on FaceTime. The pulp has covered your fingers, and you sit with a bowl under your hands, a spoon scooping the seeds out of the rind. For a minute he’s distracted by the fact that he’d forgotten your love for the fruit, and then wonders if they’re in season. He watches you eat a little, and continues what he was saying. He’s talking about the Saudi Grand Prix, about the logistics and some issues with his flight. A few weeks ago he’d mentioned that he wanted you to be there, but he’s avoiding talking about guests now, or Paddock Passes.

“Pierre,” you say, a deep breath.

“Yeah, love?”

“Do you want me there?”

There’s a long pause, stretching out before you. Does he want you?

“Do you want to be there?” he asks in return.

It’s like a kick to the gut. You don’t have it in you to answer, only a fear that if you open your mouth it’ll all spew out — the resentment, the fear, the anger you suddenly feel. You want to be there for him, and it feels like he’s just told you you’re no longer an important factor in his well being — no longer a person who makes him feel remotely good. What’s worse is that you think that, if that is true, it’s entirely justified. You’ve not been the easiest to be around lately, nor the most easily placated. He hangs up not long after, and you wish he couldn’t make you cry quite so easily.

Passionate from miles away

Passive with the things you say

Passin’ up on my old ways

I can’t blame you, no, no

It seems to Pierre that you are present in every spare second he has. Walking between meetings, pausing during training to take a drink — you’re there, in his mind, a constant reminder that he can’t breathe. Bahrain fucked with his head — suddenly, not even your presence eased his mind. You’ve always been easy to be around, aware of the dynamics and moods around you, always knowing what to say or what to do. You weren’t like that in Bahrain, you were quiet and withdrawn and a hundred miles away. The thought that circulates his head comes back stronger every time he thinks of you, misses you — is it him? Is he the issue?

That night in your flat, back in December, has been turned over in his head so many times he’s sure his retrospection has completely distorted the night, that his memory of it is more of a manifestation of all the possible ways he could have fucked up than a true representation of what happened. He’s trying to find time for you, responding to your texts the moment he has a free minute, FaceTiming you on his free evenings. He’s going to Enfield for a few days before he’s off to Jeddah, and the idea of getting to spend a few days with you is exciting, and yet somehow he’s dreading it.

He’s not sure how he’s gotten to this point, especially when he cares so deeply for you; his dread seems to root from the fear that he’s worse for you than he is good, and that is too scary a thought to address. He wants the best for you, he always has, and for years he thought he was that — something right, and something that made you feel better, happier, the way a loved one should. Now he's less sure that that’s true — he’s scared he’s draining, and the thought is pulling him away from you. What’s worse is the fact he knows, intuitively, that your feelings are mirroring his. How do you break out of this? How do you get back to a place where you are both confident in your love for one another, and assured in the fact that you are loved?

And then on Wednesday he’s watching you cut that passionfruit and he’s saying more than he has all week, getting the drama about travelling to Jeddah off his chest, scared to bring up the possibility of you coming with him in case you shut him down, and he has to go knowing you actively avoided coming. That’s when you drop the question, right as he’s stumbling over how not to get rejected if he asks you to come. He doesn’t want a repeat of the awkward silence that plagued you in Sakhir.

“Do you want me to be there?”

He doesn’t know what to say. Yes, God, he wants nothing more, but if you’re going to be quiet and cold like you were in Sakhir, he’d rather go without the stress of doubting himself and your relationship. He finds it strange that you’d ask — he would have you by his side every weekend if you’d let him, and he is certain you know that. In his head, the only explanation for your question is that you’re asking for a reason not to go. If you don’t want to be there he won’t ask you to be.

He doesn’t get a response when he turns the question back on you, and the seeds of doubt have been planted. His security about where he stands with you has crumbled, its already worn foundations collapsing under him. He is nearly winded by the panic of losing you. By the time he’s understood how he feels and what he wants to say, you’re hanging up, wishing him a good night. He curses himself for his indecision, and prays you’ll text him to say you do want to come to Jeddah.

Listen

Harder buildin’ trust from a distance

I think we should rule out commitment for now

‘Cause we’re fallin’ apart

It’s cemented in his mind that he has to end things by the time he’s landed in London, your text waiting to say that you can’t wait to see him. It’s for the best, he thinks, that he doesn’t drag this on for longer than need be — you’re clearly miserable in this relationship, and it is the right thing, the good thing, to do. You won’t end it yourself, he knows you well enough to know that; he knows you have a thing about not giving up, it’s a trait he understands better than you’re aware of — he can respect nothing if not your commitment. But he doesn’t truly believe that commitment of this kind, where he keeps making you cry, where neither of you can see a way of fixing it, is the kind you should cling to. It’s one thing to be committed, it’s another thing entirely to refuse to see that you are clinging to something that is long gone. He loves you, and he is more than aware that you love him, but he cannot justify the static, drawn out suffering of your relationship’s breakdown. He thinks you’ve probably already broken things off mentally, that your final probes have been about confirming that it’s the right thing to do — he’s done little to help his case.

He stands in the stairwell of your flats for longer than he should. He’s motionless in the landing between two floors, suitcase beside him, suddenly wondering if he should just get it over with. He can’t though, he’s not ready, and it’s not fair on you if he’ll be around for the next few days. He’ll do it on the last day, so you don’t have to look at him for too long.

He’s never been less sure of himself. That’s why he’s doing this — if he should be sure of anything, it should be his relationship.

When the doubt persists for the rest of his three days in London, he is assured that neither of you are in the place for a relationship. It feels strange thinking that knowing that you’ve spent nearly three years together, but he guesses you’ve grown apart. Grown apart or fallen apart, he’s not sure there’s much of a difference when it comes to you two.

On Wednesday morning, eating breakfast in your kitchen before he gets ready to go to the airport, he braces himself. He’d meant to do it last night, but you’d gone out for dinner together and he was too distracted by self doubt to do what he meant to.

“Y/N,” he starts. You watch him squirm, trying to find the words, and he suddenly realises you look expectant, like you know where this is going. “Do you actually want to be with me? Because I just have this feeling that you’ve been preparing yourself to break up with me for weeks.”

With the way your silence fills the air, he’s suddenly wondering if this is how you felt on FaceTime the week before. Your silence is the worst kind of murder.

“You want to break up?” you ask, never one to beat around the bush when you don’t want to. You’re more concise than he is, better at putting yours and everyone else’s thoughts into reality.

“No, but I don’t get the sense that either of us are particularly happy.” he admits. For the first time he wonders if the honesty he can exhibit around you is due to your own honesty, and not because he’s simply more comfortable in your presence; he is anything but comfortable now. Your bluntness is salt in the wound.

“So what, you’re leaving?” you ask. “You think that leaving is going to fix us?”

He shakes his head, “I think leaving is better than trying to fix a relationship that is dead in the water.”

You frown. “Dead in the water?”

He hates the way you repeat his words back to him. “It’s the better thing. I don’t like it, trust me, I don’t. But I can’t keep making you cry, and I can’t ask you to move to Milan again.”

For a second there’s a glimmer in your eyes and he thinks you’re about to tell him you’ll move to Italy. He wouldn’t let you, not matter how much it hurt.

“Don’t tell me what the better thing is.” you practically spit.

“Y/N…” he says, watching you stand up.

“I love you.” you tell him. “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you.” he says. “That doesn’t make us right.”

You’re crying. He’s simultaneously horrifyingly guilty and utterly assured that he’s doing the right thing. “Get out of my house.”

Leavin’

You’re just doing that to get even

Don’t pick up the pieces, just leave it for now

They keep fallin’ apart

Your jaw is tight as you watch him put his coat on. He stops at the door. “Y/N,”

“Stop looking at me like that.” you say, a newfound venom in your voice. You open the door for him, showing him out. He starts down the stairs and you find yourself calling out to him.

“Pierre, leaving is the coward’s way out.” you say. You’re angry, beyond angry, but the feeling in your chest is the same kind you get at a funeral, the heaviness of knowing that the inevitable has happened and it’s painful no matter how much you knew to expect it. He only nods, leaving you barefoot in the hall.

Back inside, you book a flight to Milan. It’s surprising how quickly you’d accepted the end of the relationship — perhaps there was some merit in his idea that you’d already broken the connection in your mind. You’re tapping your bank card on the kitchen counter, looking at the notice on your laptop confirming the purchase, and you’re completely and utterly done with him. His silences, and how the only times you ever seemed to talk lately ended in tears.

It’s easy to blame him, you acknowledge, easy to say he’s the issue. You’re not blameless.

Milan is the same constant hub of business it has always been, but its culture gets to you a little more than usual. It seems like every café and every restaurant is one Pierre had showed you, and you’re all the more determined to get the hell out of the city; you only have one stop, his.

It’s the easiest time to do it — you can get all your belongings from his flat and go straight home, not even a day away from home. The walk from the station to his flat is a familiar one, one you’ve walked a thousand times. Without Pierre, it’s easier — you don’t have to stop every five minutes for selfies with a fan, but somehow that gets to you. Perhaps it’s the young-ish fan, a teenager, who looks at you with the curiosity of someone who knows exactly who you are and doesn’t understand why you’re here. She frowns slightly, points you out to her friend, who gasps. As you pass, you hear one of them say; She doesn’t live in Milan though. Why’s she here without him?

When you get to his flat and let yourself in, you allow yourself to check your phone. He’s left a text. I can still see your location, you know. Why are you in Milan? You ignore it, opening up your empty suitcase and starting to make your way around the flat; room by room, you extract your things from his. Meanwhile, your notifications are going into overdrive. These are hardly his first texts — he’d texted and called you from Heathrow telling you he regretted it, and he needed to talk to you the moment he got back from the race — but you’re determined now. If he thought you were so bad for each other, you’d make sure to be gone by the time he got back.

I know you’re getting your things. Please, wait until we can talk about this.

Can I call you?

Mon ange, please answer

I need to talk to you

I fucked up

I love you. I’m in love with you.

Eventually, you cave. You’re sitting in front of your packed suitcase, your key to the flat on his kitchen counter.

“Love?” he answers. It must be late where he is, but that’s the least of your concerns.

“Pierre.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want you to leave me.” He says, “You’re right, it’s the coward’s way out. We should try, at the very least.”

“Don’t you see, Pierre, I have. I have tried more than ever these past weeks, and, d’you know, when you said what you did I finally understood something. I don’t have the capacity to try any harder — I don’t have the capacity to love you in the way I think you need me to. I don't think you love me the way I need you to either. You were right — more than I’ll ever care to admit — but we can’t drag ourselves through this. Let’s not torture ourselves.”

There’s another long silence. Silences seem to be half the communication between you these days. “I can fix this. I can pick up the pieces, I know it.”

“Pierre, I don’t want you to. Stop trying to pick up the pieces, stop trying to fix us. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is, and I refuse to get in your way. Let’s leave it as it is, and not ruin the memory of us anymore than we already have.”

“I love you.”

“I know, Pierre. I’m sorry we couldn’t love each other right.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Ours. It’s our fault.”

I can’t blame you, no, no

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Heya, I don't plan to talk about it much but due to what happened with forever, who was my fav and really the heart of the project for me, I'm probably not going to post about Qsmp much anymore. Or if I do, it'll take a while. But please read if you're in the same boat as me, its kind of a ramble and you can skip certain parts but I'd like to hear your thoughts. The last couple of paragraphs touch on some stuff that I hope can help be worth your while, whether you're here for the Qsmp stuff or the mental health part.

Now this is absolutely not to say the rest of the project doesn't matter or that people should give up on it. The Qsmp is incredible and should be known for what it has achieved: breaking language barriers and uniting communities. Its wonderful, unique, and still has so much to offer in terms of content creation, so please don't let the whole of it be tarnished for what happened with one creator (we've seen that before already and it sucks). Personally, it got me back into streaming content/mcyt and I'd like to stay more present this time, its so much fun and its nice knowing I can sort of drift back and forth when new things pop up. If you're in the same boat, I encourage you to not feel like its all over immediately if you still feel a passion for this kind of work, maybe you won't get back into it but maybe you just need a bit of time. Whatever you feel, as long as you're happy and having fun you're doing it right.

So, personal feelings (which I suck at but its better than bottling my thoughts and I encourage others to do the same). I'm fucking devastated lmao. His character was my absolute hyperfixation, I'm talking 24/7 brainrot for months. I haven't felt this passionate for a character since dsmp, I honestly didn't know I could still do it. But there's another layer. I live in the U.S., and I'm Brasilian-American. In the U.S., you don't hear anyone saying shit about Brasil. You hear a lot about Mexico, but nothing really south of that, and if you do its usually about sexualizing Brasilian women or narcotics and gang stuff. Not the best representation for little me, admittedly. When you-know-who won the Qsmp Election, y'all I felt something in me spark to life that I hadn't felt since we won the Olympic soccer tournament in Rio in 2016. I'm proud to be Brasilian, I've always been proud of it, but its a pride that's been limited to sports and my own personal experiences. To see myself represented, to see Brasil naturally enter the conversation for a piece of media I loved that I didn't know would have us, and to see us win something, phew, shit got me higher than my wisdom tooth removal. We Brasilians banded together to secure the win, and what's more, my fav cc on the project was the one at the center. I felt so happy, for my country, my community, and for myself. And I know recent events might taint that memory for some of us, but I refuse to look back on my feelings from back then negatively. That was one of the best damn moments in my chronically online life, and I will always remember it with pride and joy, along with the many other moments when this wonderful server made me proud to be me.

So, naturally, when the news hit I was pretty fucked up over it. Still am tbh, but better now that I've had sleep (though it took me a while to fall asleep because of course my sleep gets ruined by bad feelings, bleh). All this to ultimately say it sucks. Like, it really fucking sucks. The anxiety, the disappointment, the sadness, and the uncertainty of "what now?". Might be sounding dramatic but again, 24/7 brainrot/serotonin supply for months that connected me to my culture abruptly cut off because of pedophile allegations. C'mon Satan, I already have to go to therapy, you didn't have to kick this horse while it was down. Joking aside, if you feel as absolute dogshit as I do and have that kind of anxiety where the world feels like its about to end because moments like these leave you with the rug pulled out from under you and the uncertainty leaves you not knowing what to do with your life after this... well, welcome to the boat, bathroom's on the lower deck and snacks are in the lobby. And also I'm here, and everyone else who's been left in the same crummy place emotionally. We're here together, and I hope that can help you, cause I know for me the worst part is feeling alone in it all, but I'm not, and neither are you. We're here, holding hands and cursing existence for putting us here and making us so sensitive and giving us something great only for it to end up hurting us. We're here, and if you wanna say anything, my DMs, comments, asks, whatever you'd want to talk through, are all open.

Now comes the hardest part: acknowledgement and playing the waiting game. Like I said, if you're feeling like me, this kind of anxiety and disappointment has you feeling like its all over. So now's when you gotta remind yourself that the only thing that's over is this moment in your life when you enjoyed a Thing. That Thing can have meant a lot to you, it could have gotten you out of really dark places, and it could be something you'll still think about down the line. It can be something like minecraft cube people that you (I) got way too emotionally attached to. And for whatever reason, that Thing could have meant the absolute world, whether other people would've understood it or not. Its not your fault it ended the way it did, life just does that sometimes, as unsatisfying of an answer as that is. But its true, and its an important lesson. The Thing is over.

You know what's not over though? You. You're life. Whatever the hell you are doing and will do in the future. If this was the best thing in your life you had going for you, I am so fucking sorry. You deserved to be happy with it, we both did. But I promise you, this Thing is a moment in your story, not the whole story. This really was the source of my joy for the past few months, and if its the same for you, I see you. We can feel like shit together, along with the rest of this wonderful community who understand it too. And you know what else we're gonna do? Live, and move on. Not now, maybe not for while, but we're human beings, we persist (sometimes that might look like you're dragging your battered self out of a trench smelling like depression and expired cheese, but you'll get out of the trench, we both will). There's too much to life for this to be what stops you from finding the rest, whether that's some dramatic life change that completely changes the world as you know it for the better... or just figuring out what comes next. Taking a shower, watching that movie you were waiting for the right moment to watch (I'd say this qualifies), setting up a therapy appointment maybe. Whatever you do to feel like a person again, you have that to do, and later down the road you'll have new Things that give it all meaning. So keep yourself going, hit up me or others who would get it, and do what you gotta do to let it pass. Because it will pass.

Deep breaths friend, I'll be cheering for you when it does

[cuntylittlesalmon]

I came across one of your posts criticising Delilah Green, and the radfem-esque rhetoric of Ashley Herring Blake's works. I agree, I completely despised her works. But every time one of my friends or I spoke about it, we were criticised on bookstagram and book twt. I was curious to know your thoughts on these books, if you are okay with it.

i am aaaaaaalways down to talk shit about bad books! i’ve felt completely isolated in the larger sapphic bookish spheres because i hated AHB’s work, i’m glad to have found another one of us 🫶

this’ll be under a cut because it’ll be incredibly long, as every instance of me criticizing these books has been

DGDC - delilah green doesn’t care

APDF - astrid parker doesn’t fail

AHB - ashley herring blake

SO!

these books suck. lmao. i don't think they're particularly interesting on the character-level, or the world-level, or the prose-level, or really anything at all. there are scenes here and there where i can see what AHB can do but she's too busy trying to seem like the funniest and the most progressive white cis woman out there--of course, without doing any of the actual work that comes with deconstructing the racist, transphobic, and homophobic ideology she grew up with as a person from the united states.

which leads me into my first complaint: everything to do with emery and their pronouns. every single thing in that scene felt like pandering, and the pronoun sharing aspect felt like word salad that needed to be edited down to a single sentence of "And then everyone else shared their pronouns". we're already deeply aware that every single person in this book sans emery is cis, i don't need that shoved into my face further with a cis woman expounding upon how she's terrified that she's going to fuck up somehow in sharing her own pronouns. unnecessary bullshit, since i'm guessing the point was to show that astrid is insecure, particularly around industry professionals, but with a slightly funny slant to it. this was not the place to show that, especially when there are so many other instances both before and after this part that show her anxieties better.

and frankly, in sharing this part with a friend, they thought it was astrid being insecure about getting emery's pronouns correct which....if your cute lil romcom protag can be see as an annoying and borderline transphobic cissie when they come face to face with a nonbinary person for the first time because your prose just sucks ass......maybe you shouldn't include that lol

and i think that leans in a lot to the "humor" of these books. at one point in ADPF, delilah makes a joke about fighting someone "like a lesbian", which in her eyes (and somewhat therefore AHB's eyes) means gazing disapprovingly at someone and making her mouth "look like a butthole" (paraphrasing, but not the butthole part. she really says butthole). i'm assuming this was supposed to be funny, but it fell so fucking flat with me. like, these books are supposed to be romcoms. romantic fucking comedies. but most of the humor is so deeply steeped in white millennialisms that it's actually unfunny unless you're like my gen x mother who spends 90% of her time on facebook.

which, i suppose that's my biggest gripe with the books, and with AHB herself. it's a lot of self-serving nonsense, with little to no introspection about why certain things are included versus not. i mean, i can say that about a lot of popular romance novels, but thats beside the point. there is no reckoning with institutions, despite all of the call backs to how rich people suck, or how white people suck, or how men suck. it's all so very wink-wink-nudge-nudge, "im in the know, can't you tell?", correct terminology wrong ideology kinda of stuff. ok yeah, white people as the institution suck. i think we all know that. but also, ashley, every single important character, every single side character (save a couple), and every single background character (save a couple), are all white. you are actively participating in the "white is default" ideology that you seemingly dislike and make fun of in your book. so which is it?

this disconnect between AHB's story choices (all white main cast, etc) and the prose-level choices is so fucking obvious throughout the entire body of both books:

the lesbian main characters cannot call themselves lesbians, but one will call themself dyke without a second thought.

the trans-positive lesbian main characters will talk about dating/being attracted to nonbinary people, but do not have any nonbinary friends, do not talk to any nonbinary people, and the one nonbinary character included thus far speaks one (maybe twice) just to give their pronouns.

the lesbian main characters call themselves butch (or are called so by other wlw (but not lesbian) characters) and yet are still conventionally feminine in their presentations.

men are the worst people in the world, and yet josh (an ex of claire from DGDC) is consistently trying to atone for his past harm, and within the story we're given, is like, an actually alright guy.

men are the worst people in the world, and yet the worst actions taken against iris was not by her ex-boyfriend, but by her butch girlfriend (which. i have a lot of thoughts on this).

the books say they believe one thing, but are never backed up with actually evidence that this is the case.

and so, when i say the books have some radfem-y bullshit in them, this is largely what im talking about. i have no clue if AHB herself is a radfem, or exactly what she believes in. im not combing through her twitter account because she as a person annoys me, and anyone promoting her work annoys me. but she is participating in some fucked up shit, and the fact that they are so beloved just makes my ass itch and i feel like i need to speak on it more than i already do now 💀

anyway. the radfem-y stuff.

the books use some pretty covert gender essentialism when it comes to the lesbian characters vs the bisexual woman characters. every single lesbian is said to be masculine (specifically butch) while every single bisexual woman (and every single ostensibly straight woman) is, while not called out as feminine, exclusively present femininely. which....is weird. i don't think i have to say why saving masculinity for lesbians (and men) is stereotypical, and kind of gross, especially coming from someone who isn't a lesbian.

but wait! its worse! masculinity (regardless of how prescriptive vs. descriptive it is) in these books are very much associated with emotionally unavailability and callousness toward the feminine (emotional) counterpart. and really, its even worse when you compare difference within the lesbian characters (delilah, jordan, and iris' girlfriend).

delilah and jordan, when you actually examine them, are feminine presenting. they both wear red lipstick, eyeliner "sharp enough to kill a man", and in delilah's case, heels. the most masculine aspects about them is that they don't wear skirts or dresses. literally. whereas, iris's girlfriend in APDF, who only wears suits, has short cropped hair, never wears makeup, and has a stereotypically masculine job. jordan and delilah are love interests. they're allowed to grow into emotionally available people by their love for their feminine partners. the butch girlfriend, however, is a cheating piece of shit who's entire point is to set up iris' storyline for the third book in the series (a role that could've been done just as well by her ex boyfriend, who she dated in DGDC, instead of what feels like a very pointed and spiteful subplot).

so, it becomes very clear to me that masculinity is the worst thing you can have in these books. none of the men are given grace either, and i touched on it a bit earlier talking about josh. he was flaky as hell with claire and their daughter before the events of DGDC, and so claire (and by extension, her friends iris and astrid) are wary of him when he comes back into her and her daughter's lives. but, for all of that, josh isn't flaky in the book. like he very much steps up to be a good dad to his daughter. is the best? no, obviously. i dont think AHB is capable of writing a "good" character. but he literally doesn't abandon anyone, despite us being constantly told that thats what he does, to the point that when he ends up being unreachable for a couple of days, every single character freaks out and treats him like a monster. iris fucking punches him for this, even though he actually had a good reason. and im not one to defend men like 💀 i am very much a manhater, but like. cmon. it feels entirely unearned. and its that disconnect again. AHB wants you to believe that josh deserves this because he's a man, so of course he's going to be terrible, its what men do, despite him, like, not being terrible.

(and its even worse in APDF, where astrid is literally disgusted to be in his presence point blank, period, even though hes been like. consistently a decent guy.)

and my last piece in this, is natasha rojas. the otherworldly sexy and gorgeous latina host of the reality show in APDF, who literally wears a clitoris necklace. like not only is it leaning on racist stereotyping, but she's the ultimate feminine who wears a literal piece of the vagina. yonic imagery is cool and everything (genuinely, there should be more!) but this is not only extremely heavy handed in a brick-to-the-face kind of way, but also as the Ultimate Feminine, she's this deeply warm and caring and nurturing person, who is never posited as a antagonist or anything despite her positioning as a literal corporate player for HGTV (the hallmark of home renovation. every fucking person on that network is some flavor of conservative). she very much could've been a stand in for the capitalist homogenization of the housing market that HGTV absolutely caters toward, especially when you take into consideration astrid original plan for the house that she's renovating (taking it from very classically victorian to white and grey contemporary), but instead she's positioned as a mouthpiece for the glory of the clit and female sexuality only. which is fucking frustrating. and so fucking weird.

but yeah. AHB has a very white millennial liberal queer view of gender and presentation and sexuality, which in and of itself is very essentialist. but she tries to play out of her biases as a white and cis woman by making in-narrative jokes about it, but they fall completely flat because she has no idea what she's doing, and thus perpetuates the exact same shit she's trying to make fun of. she's got a lot of unchecked bigotry rattling around in that empty brain of hers, which when you're trying to write a feminist book, leans itself to radfem & white feminist ideology (which. lbr. are the fucking same but whatever).

ik this was long as hell but ty everyone who made it to the end for reading 😤🙏💓

[cyclogenesis]

life update, sry for absence, you will literally not believe the breadth and depth of fuckery I have been facing down these last few weeks including the last insane 24 hours

Cannot overstate how obscenely ridiculous things have gotten for me. I thought I felt Seasonal Affective Disorder looming at the turn of September to October but I think now it was just a sense of general foreboding. 

So I’m trying to truck along these last few weeks, sad as hell about my beloved cat, and then for the third time this year I have to find a new psychiatrist. I take Adderall for my ADHD, I have for six+ years, I see telehealth providers for monthly five minute appointments to be like yes I still need Adderall please send the prescription thanks. Walgreens causes a problem too fucking stupid to get into with psych #1 this year, I go out of my way to explicitly confirm this same problem won’t crop up with psych #2. No it’ll be fine he says. He was wrong, because he apparently didn’t know what he was talking about, and instead of looking into it for clarification he just said meaningless words to shut me up. 

The problem crops up again. We try three different pharmacies to try and get around it. Doesn’t work. I have to find a new psychiatrist. Again. Takes weeks. I finally find a place where god willing this dumb issue will not crop up again. I get an appointment for last Friday morning. Yay!!!! I decide to start seeing a new therapist too since one was on offer and I was feeling rough. (Last Thursday I said yes to the appointment. This is when I was already having a hard time.)

I see this new psych. He tells me that he’s going to hold the Adderall prescription hostage until I get an EKG and also a bunch of lab tests done. He watches me visibly wilt like a flower trapped in a bell jar. Fine. I go to Quest Diagnostics like he told me to. I get there at 10:30am and I’m #10 on the standby list. At 12:30pm I’m still #10 on the standby list and the nurse comes out and tells us all basically there’s no chance. I pay $6 for parking and leave having wasted two hours and six dollars. 

Fine. I make an appointment for Tuesday, the soonest I could get. (Great, that won’t already be a stressful day!) I find an urgent care place as suggested for the EKG. It’s a mile and a half away. I walk there. I wait an hour and forty minutes before a nurse comes to take my vitals. Because I didn’t expect to be waiting in the exam room for so long I’d taken my jacket off and then got too lazy to get back up and get it even though the AC had inexplicably kicked on. Because of this, and because anxiety makes my extremities go numb, my hands were so cold she had to take multiple pulse oximeter readings. “I’m a vampire,” I joked. “I’m actually dating a vampire,” the nurse said. She explained her boyfriend is Bela Lugosi’s grandson. Los Angeles: lmao. From outside as my eventual results are shared with the doctor I hear, “How is she awake??” 

I put my jacket back on as I wait for the doctor. I lie down. I stick my hands in my pockets. I try to think relaxing thoughts, going to my happy place: earlier this year, the beach at Cannes, walking ankle deep in the Mediterranean. I run through entire Sarah McLachlan songs in my head. By the time the doctor comes in for the EKG I’m feeling very chill. 

Too chill. The doctor has a ridiculously hard time getting a good reading. I’m lying there in an open front paper gown, topless, hooked up to this machine with wires coming off me like a desktop computer running Windows 96. She keeps having to move the little sticker things. We’ve been having a good time since she had to pull out the footrests and keep pulling. “I’m 5’11,” I told her. “I was always mad I didn’t hit six feet.”

“You should just lie,” she said, “How would they know?” I love her. Going forward I will lie. Doctor’s orders! 

I joke that given my previous case of corpse fingers with the pulse oximeter that I’m just a ghost and that’s the issue. She points out that it’s the Day of the Dead. I tell her I tried to haunt my family but their shrines sucked and nobody did the cool skull makeup so I decided to come fuck with some doctors. She laughs. I laugh. We continue to joke around. I love it. All I ever want to do is make people laugh. 

On the third try she finally gets a decent EKG reading though she’s iffy that she may need to do a fourth. Nope, this one is fine. I get to leave. I arrange to have the results faxed to my new psych. “Wait, is my heart okay? Haha,” I say to the receptionist. She passes me a copy of the results and tells me to talk to my doctor. 

It’s all fun and games until I’m walking out at 7:10pm on a Friday night into the cold dark evening with a 1.5 mile walk in front of me and abnormal EKG results that say “possible left atrial enlargement” and “abnormal right axis deviation” and “incomplete right bundle branch block” and “consistent with pulmonary disease”.

Oh. Um. Well. Okay. 

Googling all this leads to results that are scary and not in the “I googled my hangnail and WebMD says I have fingernail cancer” way, more in the there’s actually only so many things all of this together can mean and also the words “consistent with pulmonary disease” are in fact right there in black ink sort of way. Lots of stuff about the very increased likelihood of heart attacks. You hate to see that!!!!

In retrospect maybe it has been weird that I’ve been so aware of my heartbeat all the time lately. Maybe it hasn’t just been caffeine and stress. Well, I’ll call my GP first thing Monday and beg for an appointment ASAP, obviously. In the meantime I’ll try not to freak out. I’ll try to avoid additional stress. 

But, you know, I’ve been meaning to call my grandmother anyway. I still haven’t told her about Klaus. Our relationship has been shaky these last few years since I became estranged from my parents in 2021 after they went QAnon and decided that believing Facebook memes was more important than their relationship with their only child (me!!) and she got mad at me for standing up to them ever. Also she was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in July so that’s been rough. But I figure she should be in the loop. 

I get ahold of her last night. I tell her there’s stuff going on with me, but she should tell me what’s up with her first. I await news of who triumphed in this week’s game of Yahtzee with her cousin and whether or not the Warriors or whatever sports team she’s keeping up with right now are winning. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you because I know you don’t really care what’s going on with them, but your mom’s moved in with me because your parents are getting a divorce,” she says. 

First I explain, again, as she knows, because she was there, that they are the ones that rejected me. I remind her that my mom got in touch last Thanksgiving saying she missed me and wanted to see me and that I said I felt the same, we just needed to have a serious talk first. I remind her that my mom completely fucking ghosted me after that and has not tried to get in touch since. Even unfriended me on Facebook. Been almost a year now. My parents’ entire relationship with me is less important than their unwillingness to have even one single solitary fucking grown-up conversation. This is a fact. 

And then I’m like, also what???????????????

So apparently my dad (stepdad actually, but he married my mom when I was seven and he’s the only person I’ve ever called Dad) told my mom they should move back to the Central Valley. He said they should sell their house in Sacramento and she should quit her job up there and try to find a new one in Fresno. They sell their house and use the extra to pay off debts, because they are morons who have always lived paycheck to paycheck no matter how big or small those paychecks are. 

Mom asks Grammy if she can move in with her in Fresno while she looks for a new job. Grammy says no. Mom moves in her friend Diane, who was widowed after her idiot MAGA antivaxxer husband got Covid (which he didn’t believe in) and ended up getting an entire lung transplant and then dying anyway. Mom gets a job in Fresno but she doesn’t like it so she quits. 

My stepdad meanwhile has a one bedroom apartment in Sacramento and is still working at his job up there. He puts a bunch of their stuff in storage in Fresno in anticipation of the move. My mom goes up to visit and they celebrate their 34th wedding anniversary. Everything’s fine. 

A week later he calls and says he’s divorcing her. She can keep all the stuff that’s in storage in Fresno. This apparently comes out of nowhere, though not for him I guess (lol?). 

Diane’s landlord finds out my mom’s living there and threatens to evict them due to the unauthorized tenant. Mom has to move in with Grammy. 

And that’s what you missed on Glee!!!!!!!!!

With that out of the way, I tell Grammy my cat died and also I likely have some kind of lung disease and my heart’s maybe fucked. I tell her luckily lol I’m starting therapy again and she says she doesn’t understand that and that she gets depressed sometimes and then she gets over it. She tells me I should get a job because she knows I don’t make enough from my shop. I explain that I’m trying to avoid stress right now because it could very literally give me an actual genuine fucking heart attack. She continues to be a dick because instead of using any of her 85 years of life on this planet to try to become emotionally healthy she has chosen again and again to just lash out when she’s upset and never grow as a person in any capacity whatsoever. I am grateful again that I’m able to take her and my parents as examples of what I don’t want to be. I am far more patient with her than she deserves and we part on decent terms. 

I immediately proceed to storytime this bitch out with the besties. Everyone’s like “What?????” and I’m like “I know!!!!!”

The funniest part is that the parental estrangement was due largely to my mom just fully choosing my stepdad over me, her only child. Which like wasn’t even a surprise really, as she had told me once in a childish and unexpected outburst of anger that she didn’t have a choice but to have me. (Sure she did. She just buried her head in the sand until it was too late.) So it made sense that it would be my stepdad. He was the one she felt she got to choose. Also, she is an asshole.

Hope she feels great now about making that call, lmao!!! How’d that one work out queen?? No husband, no daughter, 62 years old moved back in with your mom who didn’t even want you there, huh? Yikes!!

So anyway, my GP’s office opens in twenty minutes, please cross your fingers for me that I’ll be able to schedule an appointment sometime before my heart bursts out of my chest like the alien in Alien and then dons a tophat and tapdances away from this clusterfuck, an action for which I would not blame it tbh. (Edit: They don't have any appointments until April [what?!] but they have walk-in hours thrice a week. I will get there at 10am Wednesday morning and hopefully they will see me.) New therapist appointment is at 12:30pm, best of luck to her with this goddamned Pandora’s box of bullshit that I’m about to unleash on her. 

Gonna try to relax in the meantime as I am at this moment very aware of the consistent thumping of the tell-tale thing inside my chest. Wish me luck!

[byullielle]

Cocaine Colored Wedding Dress // Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Older by 5SOS, Sierra Deaton. Today is your day. Both of yours. The day you get married to Christopher Bang.

Tags: Marriage, Fuff, Skz!Bestmen, Idol!Bang Chan, Wedding Shenanigans, you are skz's noona

Disclaimer: author doesn't know shit about weddings and ofc its song inspired lmao. your family members would remain nameless. (felix is part of your entourage your own bestman/maid of honor but a guy), i will keep wedding details and furnishings vague as to not kill the imagination but there WILL be a church. for my fatherless/motherless readers, I AM YOUR FATHER NOW ヽ( `д´*)ノ

a/n: i wrote this while travelling so im sorry it's sloppy

As Felix helps you tighten the bodice of your dress, your mind starts wandering at 100 miles an hour, thinking about the floral arrangements and whether or not they were finished on time because you nor Chan had enough time to check last night, hoping that everyone's dresses and suits are complete, praying to every possible deity out there that Chan slept well because you certainly couldn't out of pure excitement, the anxious thoughts now settling down your stomach. "Y/N-ah," Felix's voice snaps you out of it as you look up at him, met with a kind and loving smile from your best friend, "You can look now," he gently states before moving away from the mirror. You take a deep breath and shut your eyes, before turning around, dress moving along to the motion.

Slowly opening your eyes, you could feel unbridled joy with a healthy mix of anxiety spike through your veins like never before. You've tried it, three times even for fitting and alterations but now that it was happening, now that it was real; you felt so gorgeous. Your emotions well up at your throat, stopping yourself from crying before your destroy your make-up.

The veil hangs perfectly behind you, white textile hugging you correctly while it flows like water, your jewelry shines brighter it seems; and you look amazing. The confidence your entire bridal attire gives you is so exhilarating, only one thought of 'I can't wait until Chris sees this,' solid in your mind, pushing all the other worries away. You somewhat anticipated it when you started planning the wedding, but Chan was quite a traditionalist in a sense that he wanted to keep the wedding as sweet and as fun he saw it just as sacred. And he didn't want to see your dress until the day itself which makes you stand here now, your first look at both your outfits.

Felix peers over and smiles at the look on your face, making him approach you before handing you a box of tissue, "Always our crybaby," he jokes lightly with the most loving voice ever, "How do you feel,"

"Amazing," your voice quivers while wiping off the tears from their tear ducts before it could ever escape your eyes. "Oh my god,"

"Well," he laughs, "Let's go?"

You nod excitedly, making him nervous that you'd knock your properly groomed hair over. You hook your arms with him before you exit the bridal suite. The plan was to meet Chan by the place behind the reception which was close to the church you were going to get married in. Your heart was slamming against your ribcage like it was wanting escape, excitement pounding through you like a toddler on LSD. You'd bounce on your heels at every step if it wasn't for the fact that you wanted to be prim and proper for your future husband.

Husband. The prospect was enough to make you wanna squeeze Felix and squeal until someone's eardrums broke and at the same time break down crying at just how lucky you are to have Christopher Bang as your husband. An overworking perfectionist, never stops until satisfied and is rarely so, chronic insomniac—but a man fueled by hard work and passion, driven by his desire to do and give his best; his work and the people around him heavily influenced. A sweetheart through and through, boyish in charm and loving to a fault, gentlemanly and steadfast in his morals and principles. For better or for worse you will stick with him, because you love him for every once of his perfections along with every morsel of his flaws. Your husband, Christopher Bang.

And the most terrifying thing is—you wholeheartedly trust that he'd do the same for you.

"Okay stop!" Changbin calls out before you could even turn the corner, blocking the way. You almost hit him like you would a brick wall but Felix immediately stops you. "For the record, miss bride," he beams up at you before opening his arms for a hug which you wholeheartedly accept with joy. "You look amazing, sweet thing," he chuckles before pressing a slight kiss to your temple, "Congratulations, Y/N-ah. I'm so proud of you two,"

You have to look up to prevent the tears fro falling, slightly smacking him on the chest in order for you to laugh at his response before he beckons Felix to leave a bit, photographer for the moment on standby. Leaving both of you for the tender moment, it's like time is at a standstill, none of you talking much before Chan clears his throat. "Y/N?" he calls out, nervousness evident in his voice.

"Chris," you respond, a little bit choked up before you see his hand pop out from the corner, "Hold my hand please," he asks softly before you comply, feeling his slightly clammy hands, with a gentle tremble within.

"I'm so terrified I'd start crying like a baby when I see you," he half-heartedly jokes, partially meaning it as you laugh out a bit. "Well that makes both of us," you sigh before rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand, "Ready?"

"Yeah," he breathes out, "On three?"

"Mhm," you hum, "One," you start of and he finishes the third count. There's a pause before both of you move to see each other. Instantaneously all of the sparks you've lost, those that have dwindled away comes back to both of you. Unable to help yourself but cry and he remains breathless.

Handsome. You always thought he was but in a white suit, white tie, your favorite flower pinned by his breast, hair decorated with shiny flower pins that you suggested months ago, light make-up on him—he looked ethereal, like he was cut from the gods and you couldn't help but sob at that. "You're so handsome my love," you chuckle wetly, reaching your hand out on his cheek tenderly before he presses a kiss against your palm, "I love you," he simply states before pulling you into a hug, "So so much,"

"I love you too," you tighten your grip on his body reassuringly. "So so so much,"

You two stand there in silence, basking in each other's warmth while you keep the tears at bay. You know he's silently crying with the motions and ministrations behind your back but you let him. It was your wedding day after all. "Should we get a picture?" you whisper against his ear as he nods and detaches from you, "God, I'm already a mess,"

"You're perfect," you laugh before pressing a kiss on his cheek, prolonging the stay of your lips on his skin before producing a loud 'mwah,' "Perfect groom,"

"For the perfect bride," he chuckles before you both turn to the photographer, signaling him that he could finally take pictures and not take paparazzi shots—a running joke you and Chan made when asked if you wanted pictures of the intimate moment. You take a few more sweet and cute pictures before Seungmin comes barreling down the stairs with no reprieve, immediately worrying you and Chan whilst disrupting the photography process. "I am so so sorry I have to barge in like this," he huffs, only in his white button up and slacks, "But the officiant suddenly got the IBS. He's been stuck in the restroom for like, what, an hour?" he explains, "I think he needs to be taken to the hospital,"

"What?!" both you and Chan question in alarm. But before you could think of a response Seungmin clears his throat, "But PD-nim...turns out is a licensed and trained officiant,"

"PD-nim...?" Chan questions before you fill in the blanks, "As in the JYP PD-nim?,"

Seungmin mutely nods. "So long as he gets both your permissions he'll gladly do it for free,"

You look up at Chan who simply looks back at you, a silent conversation happening between the flitting and movement of eyes. "What do you think?" you verbalize as he nods, "Well, it's not like we have much of a choice do we," he sighs and holds your hands, "I'm sorry it has to be PD-nim,"

"Well it'll probably be a bit weird but I don't mind much," you squeeze, "I'd get married to you regardless of the officiant anyway,"

"I am," Hyunjin sighs out, exasperated as Minho and Jisung run around toppling the place over, "Gonna freak out,"

"Channie hyung is back!"

"Fuck!" all three of them simultaneously curse before Chan comes in with a very offended look on his face, Seungmin and Changbin looking at the men in the hotel room in confusion. "What is... happening?" Changbin trails off after seeing the pair peering at the back of the couches while Hyunjin holds his hair in his hand.

"Hyunjin is missing his fucking pants," Jackson exasperates. Chan's brows reach his hairline, "What? Since when?"

"Apparently it didn't come in the dress bag," Hyunjin explains with a tinge of desperation in his voice, "And please please don't tell Y/N noona," he takes Chan's hands and the groom doesn't know whether or not to smack him upside the head or laugh. "I can't promise that," he says a bit stiffly, "Are you sure you're checked everywhere? The floor, the hotel room you used last night?"

"Wait hyung you're such a genius!" Hyunjin vibrates with new hope before patting his pockets down before realizing he already returned the keycard to the room after checking out. "Oh shit," and Chan seems to realize this issue before sighing, "Let's go boys," he strips off his blazer for now before neatly hanging it up the door hooks. "Move out,"

Jackson and Brian stay behind to hold the fort while the 7 men accompany each other to the hotel clerk for moral support should Hyunjin and Chan start breaking down in front of the poor attendant. "God forbid any of her bridesmaids see us," Jisung crosses his fingers, "Or like, let her know a month after,"

"Yeah, like as a funny memory,"

"You guys do know I can't lie to my wife right?" Chan sweats, nervously tapping his leg on the elevator floor heading down. "Worse comes to worse only Hyunjin is gonna die,"

"Hey!" he whines, "Please, anyone but in the hands of noona,"

"I'll do it in her stead," Minho comments before the elevator door opens, offering a "kind" smile to Hyunjin that never fails to send shivers down his spine. Chan leads the barrage of 6 men, heading to the receptionist as he clears his throat. "Hi," he greets, before beckoning Hyunjin to his side, "What was your room?"

"801,"

"Has 801 been cleared yet?" he turns back to the receptionist who starts typing into the console, "Not yet sir. Would you want to re-check back in?" she inquires as Chan waves his hand in disapproval, "Oh, no no, I was just gonna ask if it was possible to check the room? This guy left something really important,"

"Oh, I'll see what I can do about it sir, please wait for a while,"

Hyunjin frowns and clamps on Chan's arm, "I'm really sorry hyung,". He chuckles and pats Hyunjin's head, "It happens. Not every wedding is perfect," he reassures, "I do have to tell Y/N,"

A despaired noise escapes Hyunjin, dramatics unending. He couldn't request Chan to keep it from you either, knowing that keeping something as crucial as this a secret quite possibly could put a wrench on your relationship, both as an affianced couple and in a few hours, spouses. The receptionist smiles pitifully at Hyunjin, and 5 minutes span on like an hour.

After one phone call, she smiles at both Chan and Hyunjin, along with the 4 others lined up behind them, "I'll give you the keycard. Fortunately, room service hasn't cleaned it yet,"

"Thank you so much ma'am!" Hyunjin bows as he accepts the keycard with his two hands, as if receiving his diploma.

And in record time, they make it to the room. They scramble to start looking, Chan in the bathroom, Minho and Jisung towards the closets, Changbin by the couches, Jeongin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin in the bedroom. "It's not here," Jisung mutters, disappointed but Minho gently pushes him out of the way and turns his phone flashlight on, and true enough the pants are nestled on the floor by the corner.

"It's here!" he announces before grabbing the pants, handing it to Hyunjin who was rushing towards him. "Hyung!"

A slap to the back of his head was delivered but Minho sighs in relief anyways, "You idiot," he mutters before cajoling Hyunjin out the door, "Making us nervous and shit,"

The veil falls over your face, white clouding your vision before Felix hands you your bouquet. "Ready?" he asks before you nod, and from your periphery, you see your father enter the room. Felix bows politely before leaving the room, simply just two of you. "You're getting married," he states in a factly tone, "That's the plan," you chuckle before holding your hand out for him to take.

"I can't believe I'm sending you off," he sighs and looks up and down at you, "My darling daughter,"

"Chan'll take care of me," you assure with a chuckle, trying to not cry in front of your father, not when he looks so proud yet so sad at the same time. "I know," he tucks his hands behind him, "It'll be a little bit quieter at home though," he sighs.

You swallow down, lump on your throat growing. "Dad..."

"I don't say it a lot, Y/Nnie," he sighs and places a hand on your shoulder, "But I am proud of you. Where you are now," he smiles, tears lining the edge of his eyes before your lower lip trembles and tenderly touch your father's cheeks, "Thank you," it escapes you as barely a whisper. "You'll always be welcome home," he assures, "Don't worry about the grandchildren for now. Your mother says so too,"

"Yeah," you giggle before taking his arm. "Thank you for everything Dad," you rub it lightly. It surprises you when he pulls you into a tender hug, rare and sweet as you burst into tears, sobbing like a little baby before your mother then enters. "Oh, you made our princess cry!" she scolds before reaching under your veil with a handkerchief and patting your tears away gently, making sure she doesn't rub onto the waterproof make-up. "You look so pretty,"

"Thank you Mom," you giggle when she presses a kiss on your cheeks, going through the veil, "Pretty bride genes run through your blood,"

"Now you're just flattering yourself," your father teases with a fond smile on his face directed to his wife, "Oh shut! You cried during our wedding day you old fool," she lightly pushes the back of his head before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll go now, we'll all be waiting for you in the wedding hall," she waves and leaves. You could see her wipe her own tears but the door closes on her before you could say something else.

You fan your face and take a deep breath out, pacing around the room while your father patiently sits by the lounges. "Nervous?" he asks. You nod before he beckons you to sit down, easily complying as you face him, "Do you know," he says, "Your uncle tripped on the aisle when I and your mother got married," he starts narrating as you giggle. "He was a spectacle. Everyone was teasing him during the reception," he fondly recalls, "But honestly, I'm secretly glad it happened, I was super nervous to marry your mother," he congresses.

"Really?" you place a hand on your mouth, not really expecting it from your straight-laced father and his impenetrable force of patience and indifference. "Your mother is the most beautiful woman I've laid my eyes on. I'm glad I got to marry her," he sighs, "And I know Chan feels the same. I have never seen someone look so in love in years until I saw him,"

"Only reason you said yes to him asking your blessing,"

"Would you rather I let you marry a man who isn't happy to be with you?"

"Of course not,"

"Exactly," he nods, "I will put an axe through his skull if that look changes,"

"Dad!" you laugh and smack the side of his arm, "Don't say that on my wedding day!" you giggle as he rolls his eyes, "That's a promise!"

You were about to respond when the organizer knocks on the door and peers through the crack, "Miss bride, and mister father," they beckon, "It's time,"

You stand up with shaky hands, taking the bouquet before your father offers his arm up for you to take, hooking your hand against his. You both walk out of the room and head to the path leading to the church, doors nearly empty after the entourage walks in. You vaguely see Chan's figure enter the chapel and walk along before the curtains lining the entrance fall down and block your view after your mother follows afterwards.

"Why am I gonna throw up," you whisper to your father as he chuckles and squeezes your arm comfortingly, "At least not on the aisle,"

"Dad!"

"You'll do great," he genuinely assures, "This is your day, your groom is happily waiting for you at the end of the aisle," he pats your back before the organ starts to play the bridal march, curtains opening as people stand for you. A deep inhale is caught in your throat, nervousness spiking as your father cajoles you into walking.

And then you see Chan, although screened in white and obscured by the veil you couldn't help but be emotional. You don't know what triggered it, but the tears prick your eyes and then you see him reach over his' and pad a handkerchief along. He's crying too. But the smile is so prominent you could see the dimples against the veil, making you giggle quietly, tension in your body dissipating.

The march seems to stretch on longer than you or Chan wished for, but eventually, your father comes over and gives him a short hug before taking your hand and placing it in his'. "Do good," he notions to Chan as he nods. Shakily, you both step forward hand in hand–face to face with JYP, your emergency officiant.

The ceremony starts, people take their seats while Felix and your best friend keep a keen eye on your comfort and your dress. Chan can't stop squeezing your hand reassuringly, catching subtle glances like you were back in high school giggling about. You both sign the wedding papers once your officiant announces it, and when he cues Chan–he faces your parents and gets on his knees, forehead to the ground as you yourself bow, back parallel to the floor as they both nod.

And then you turn to Jessica and Jack, along with Hannah who were watching by Chan's side, and then while Felix takes the bouquet in your hand, you properly fix your dress, get on your knees, and press your forehead against the floor. It wasn't planned, the getting on the floor at least, it was expected you bow but not to the full extent, dress and all. A bit flabbergasted, Chan immediately helps you up after the 10 second stay, "Baby, you didn't have to," he whispers as his family bows back, "I wanted to," you reassure him, patting your dress and veil off as Felix hands back your bouquet.

Then, both of you bow to each other, 90 degrees and perfectly still and solemn.

A surrender of half of yourself to him, and taking half of his. A vow unbent by law and a promise unbroken by love.

The ceremony continues, a bunch more expletives and legalities before JYP senses your growing impatience as he clears his throat and starts with the vows. Your guide is tucked in the bouquet, in between the peonies and roses but you knew it wouldn't really matter much. Chan also has his in his breast pocket, pulling it out before taking the microphone and taking your shaky hand into his'.

"We met during my trainee days. You were working your way into being an intern while I was wallowing in a thin line between courage and impatience, waiting to debut," a pointed look to your officiant, "It was sorta unexpected. You gave me a free drink during your part time job and we suddenly got to talking for hours, I got your number and I headed back to the dorms. I never knew I sealed my fate back then, and looking back at it now, I will never trade a thing for it," he sighs out, looking up so that he doesn't start crying.

You smile lovingly at him, assuring him that if he cries you'll simply laugh it off as a fond memory, not like you'd fare any better than him anyway.

"When I debuted, you were one of the first people I told," he laughs, a bit airy, "I could never forget the squeal that nearly ruptured my eardrums, that was the day I realized I might've liked you," and then you giggle. "You got your dream job during our second comeback. I will never forget that because I was with you, we were watching a movie when you got your acceptance call. That was also the first time you hugged me. You were so happy and in turn it made me happy, that was the moment I thought 'What I'd give to always feel like this', so I sought after that. I sought after you,"

He takes a gulp down of his tears, "You are my hero. You make me happy, so happy. I'd give the moon and stars but you seem to always beat me to it, I always feel loved and cared for by you. And as we make our way to infinity, to a forever only we can create, I want to love and care for you until my lungs give out and I'm an old wrinkly grandpa,"

"I promise to forever cherish you—your laughter and smiles, and all the other things that make you do your happy dance," he tucks the paper away and takes your hand instead, "And I vow to forever protect the love that you give me. To hold it close and never betray that,"

And he starts holding back a wide, goofy smile, making you groan preemptively as he clears his throat, "And hey, I'm not our wedding photographer," he shrugs and takes a comedic look at his bestmen, "But I can picture us together. Forever."

Laughter choruses throughout the chapel while you lightly smack him on the arm, laughing as you roll your eyes at the corny pick-up line. Of course he fucking would.

Handing the microphone over to you, you pick off the paper nestled between the flowers before unfurling it open, "Chanathan," you start, making him throw his head back in laughter, "Was the name I used to tease you with when I asked for your name during that time we met at the cafe. I can't believe that our vows kinda match, but it its the testament if just how much we're soulmates," you look up at him, not reading off the paper.

"It was Chanathan, then Chan, then Channie, then Chris. Then my Christopher. It's like a stake of claim on you," you jokingly quip, "But throughout those times and those names, was also the evolution of our relationship. And I have never been more glad to open up this new era of calling you nothing but husband. My husband Chan, my husband Christopher, my husband Chanathan," you smile up at him, seeing his humored look despite the fond eyes he has for you.

"And I promise to honor every sense of your name, whether its carrying your's or speaking of you. I always have been and always will be proud of you, and not a day would go by where you wouldn't know that," you choke up a bit, voice getting trembly, "There will be nights and weeks and months when we'd be apart, but our souls, and my loyalty would always be unbreakable,"

You take his hand and press a kiss on it through your veil, feeling your heart squeeze in delight as a strangled cry escapes him, "I vow to love you, now and forevermore, and we can be cute little wrinkly old people together till the end of time. I will always be proud to be your wife, and will also make you constantly proud to call your home, I love you, Christopher,"

"I love you too," he whispers and squeezes your hand once more.

"Now," JYP beckons for the ring bearers, "For better or for worse, through sickness and health, and until death do you part," he starts before you slip a paper towards him which gives you quite the stern look, simply making Chan chuckle, "And as you drink from his cup, and he drinks from yours, the first and last sonata you'll sing, with the neverending dread of betrayal hung over the crux of your necks, take these rings," he then signals you to take each other's rings, shaky hands delicately holding them, "And swear,"

Chan goes first, sliding your wedding band on the yhe ring finger of your presented hand. After comes him, with you nervously taking his and slipping on the shiny gold band on his finger. And then you both hold hands, both of yours warmly enclosed in his' as your officiant gives a nod of approval. "You can remove her veil now," he covers the microphone and mutters to Chan who has to take a deep breath to brace himself.

Taking the hem of your veil, he carefully turns it and the white cast is finally gone, seeing his face so clearly you fall in love again. So easily, and so quickly. "Do you, Christopher Bahng, take Y/N L/N as your lawfully wedded wife?"

He smiles at you, "I do,"

"And do you, Y/N L/N, take Christopher Bahng as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do,"

"Then, you may now kiss your bride," he announces as Chan places a loving hand on your waist, one on your cheek before pulling you forward and you cup his cheeks, kissing him with fervent love and passion. It was a mere press to his lips, but the love overflowing was so much you both start crying.

The cheers and claps echo through the chapel before he departs and guides your hand to hook against his arm. "Hello wifey,"

"Mhm, husband," you giggle while wiping your tears with the pads of your fingers, pressing another kiss to his cheek, before moving forward and retreating out the aisle.

Your smile is so wide it hurts your cheeks, a hearty laugh escapes your husband as both of you run down the aisle, hand in hand.

Y/N Bang. You could get used to it.

let me know what you wanna come next; wedding night/honeymoon or reception/wedding after-party

[frenziedslashers]

It's me (again) with another request for Ricky.

How would rick react to reader going on a run with someone he doesnt really trust yet? And they're gone longer than expected. How does he cope with the anxiety? How does he react when reader comes back with some injuries bc the other person was shitty and almost left them behind???

Safe and Sound;;

A/N: WOO, FINALLY HAVE AN EXCUSE TO USE THIS GIF LMAO hope you enjoy this homie!!

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Male!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Rick is a little unhinged, cursing, reader uses he/him pronouns

Rick couldn't believe it when Deanna told him.

"You did what?" He snapped, and the woman flinched. "They are all capable of making their own decisions, Rick. They asked for a job, and I sent them on a supply run that they all agreed to."

Rick was fuming. He couldn't believe that she had done this without going over it with the rest of the group. Glenn, Tara, Eugene, and Noah were all out there. Most importantly, you were with them. He cared for all his people, but everyone in the group knew he cared for you almost as much as he did his kids.

"You don't get to make that call for my people!" He snapped, pushing past the woman towards the gate. He was sick of listening to her and her bullshit. Claiming that her son and his friend would protect you all out there. How would they protect you when they hardly knew what was happening outside those walls? It was all one joke after another if you asked him.

He wasn't going to be doing his job for the rest of that day, either. Not until you were all back safe and sound. Truthfully, this decision made him want to get you all out of here fast. Who was to say they didn't send his people out because they were disposable? They were strangers after all. That very well could have been their plan when Eric and Aaron drug them here.

Hours went by and Rick was still anxiously pacing the streets. Michonne, Sasha, and even Maggie tried to talk to him. Get him to go and rest inside. Or at least drink some damn water, but he wasn't having it.

"He's out there alone," Rick snapped, and Maggie frowned. "Glenn is with him, Rick. So is Noah, Tara, and Eugene. They will keep him safe, and you know that." The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry," Maggie shook her head at her friends' apology. "I don't like this any more than you do, Rick. You just gotta trust them. They're our family, we know they can handle themselves." He nodded again, looking at Maggie with a smile. "Thank you," she nodded, handing the bottle of water to Rick before departing.

Another hour went by before you were home. The crew pretty beat up, and everyone was doing their best to hide that from Rick as he came stomping up to the door.

"Get out of my way," He sneered, and everyone did. These last few months had been harsh on him. It had been harsh on all of you, but he seemed to take it the worse. The longer out there in those woods, running camp to camp. The colder and meaner he got. You hardly even recognized him half the time.

"Rick," you called out, limping over to the man as he pushed through the crowd toward you. He embraced you in a hug that both of you needed. His grip was tight around you. One hand on your back, the other cradling the back of your head. Ricks eyes fell shut while he burried his face into the side of your head. Taking in your scent.

"Are you okay?" He asked when he felt you tremble in his grasp. He couldn't handle it when you cried, and hearing you just sniffle so close to his ear had him glaring at Deanna. His eyes narrowed, brows casting a shadow over his irises that made them dark as night.

His hand rubbed slowly at your back as he waited for you to calm down. He noticed that Tara and Noah weren't in the group. Aiden wasn't there, either. He hated to admit it, but he hoped that if he lost people. Then Deanna and the others at least lost one of their own. Even if it was her own son.

"Noah's gone," you muttered, and Rick kissed your temple. "If it weren't for Glenn and Eugene," you shuddered, "Nicholas would have left me back," you told him and noticed how every muscle in his body seemed to tense. You wanted to stop the man from raging out, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Why should you stop him when Nicholas was just going to leave you to die back there? If anything, maybe this would teach Nicholas a lesson.

Rick nodded, looking down at you with such soft eyes. Such a contrast to how he looked at Deanna and the others that he considered strangers. He planted a kiss on your forehead while he muttered a soft "I'm glad you're safe," before pulling back away from you.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Nicholas backed up the closer Rick got to him. Deanna went to interfere but Glenn pulled her away. A wise thing to do with the look Rick had in his eyes. He didn't care who got in his way, he was on a war path.

Nicholas shook his head while Rick continued to get closer. "He- He's lying!" He snapped, and Rick snarled. The older male shoved the younger one against the wall. "You wanna repeat that to me, asshole?" He barked, and Nicholas cowered. "I wasn't, I was going to go back, I swear! They left Aiden behind!" Rick could hear a sob rip from Deanna, but he didn't give a damn. This was on them, not you guys.

"Glenn," Rick snapped, and Glenn cleared his throat. "Aiden shot a walker that had a grenade on its belt. It blew up, Aiden got impaled, and Tara is in the infirmary with a bag gash to her head. She's unconscious. Nicholas didn't listen and..." Glenn looked down at his feet. His heart was in his throat, tears brimming his eyes before he reached up to wipe his face with a sigh. "Noah is dead too, we lost one of our own, not just Aiden." He spoke, and Rick nodded. That was all he needed to know.

The former sheriff seemed to calm down. His expression softened and Nic thought he was free of whatever the hell Rick was thinking of doing to him. His grip loosened on his jacket, too. Maybe he was being let out free of harm? That was the understatement of the year, though.

His calm demeanor was simply the calm before the storm. His grip was quick to tighten again with one hand. The other arm winded back before his fist collided with the side of the blonde's face.

"You idiot!" Rick shouted, punch after punch to the man's face. It wasn't until someone pulled him off that he stopped, but he wasn't done there. His elbow threw back. Spencer took a blow to the jaw from the Sheriff. Nicholas took this as a chance to land a few blows on Rick. Blood smearing over your lover's face.

You stepped in, finally. You let him give Nicholas what he deserved, but you knew if you didn't stop him he would kill the man and maybe even Spencer. No matter how much you and Glenn wanted him dead, you each knew that wasn't the right thing to do.

Glenn pushed Spencer and Nicholas back with Michonne who had run over to the scene. You grabbed Rick by the shoulders while pushing him back.

"Rick, look at me, you need to stop this," you started, but Rick was still out of it. All he saw was red and he wasn't about to let you stop him. "He got our people killed," he exclaimed, and you nodded in understanding. "I know, but killing him won't bring Noah back or fix Tara," you spoke sternly, and he huffed.

"You could have died," his voice was a lot frailer than before. It sounded like what you imagined a flickering candle flame would sound like. Fragile, small, one simple blow and it would disintegrate into the night air with a string of smoke following behind.

"Rick, I'm right here," you told him, holding the sides of his face. Forcing the man to look you in your eyes, which he did. "I can't lose you," he muttered with wild and worried eyes. He looked so torn and broken. He was so tired, he couldn't rest. Not even behind these walls did he feel safe. He felt like he had to be up every waking hour to watch you, Carl, Judith, and the others. Who's to say they don't end up like Terminus? Or that they aren't worse than those freaks? No one was safe to trust anymore. Not even these people.

"I'm not going anywhere, not right now." You told him, giving his lips a quick kiss. Which he tried with desperation to deepen. He needed you close. He needed to be sure that you were here, but you'd save that for later. Right now you all still had an issue to deal with, and of course, Deanna and the others had to go and ruin your moods again.

"Oh, so your little friend there is your only worry, but my son died and you don't care?" Deanna snapped, and Rick tried to peer over your shoulder to shoot a glare at the woman, but you were quick to redirect his gaze to you.

"We lost people too," Glenn snapped back, but that only seemed to feed the flames of the fire. "If you weren't such a dick maybe you could have gone with them instead of Aiden and me," Nicholas scoffed, and Rick let out a dry laugh. The man ripped from your grasp to look at the other. Your whole group was beginning to wonder if Nicholas had a death wish.

"Me?" Rick asked while pointing to himself and fluttering his lashes. He was approaching the man again, caked in his own blood along with some of Nicholas and Spencers. He looked absolutely insane. Your eyes went wide when you noticed him reach for the pistol stuffed into the back of his belt under his jacket. "Rick," you called out, but he didn't listen.

"You mean... Me?" He asked, waving the gun around, and everyone took a step back. "I would have preferred I went out there rather than you good for nothing sons-a-bitches," Rick started in. "I don't think any of ya really know what goes on outside those goddamn walls. You all think it's all flowers and friends and sunshine, well it ain't!" He yelled, and Nicholas was looking around at everyone for help.

"You all think we're the crazy ones, but we ain't. You guys are the ones living behind a lie! A lie that everything will go back to the way it was!" He screamed with a laugh that followed, and before he could say anything more, Michonne hit him over the head and you were there to catch him.

Everyone fell silent.

You looked up at Michonne and nodded, silently thanking her for stopping Rick. You all knew he was right, but he was getting stupid. None of you wanted to deal with the retaliation of his stupidity, either. Not tonight, anyways.

"I'll get him back to the house. Michonne?" You told everyone, then looked over to your friend. Non-directly asking her to help drag your unconscious boyfriend back to the house.

"Hope I didn't give him a concussion," she spoke under her breath as you both hauled him off. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. "He shouldn't have pulled a gun out." You stated, the both of you falling silent once more.

---

When Rick did finally wake up he was alone in your shared bed. His eyes fluttered open while he tried to regain focus. The last thing he remembered was pointing the pistol at Nicholas, and then everything went dark.

"Carl, Jude," He called out, rushing into a sitting position on the bed. Scurrying out of the sheets as he remembered everything that happened. "Darlin'?" He called out when he heard hurried footsteps making their way down the hall to the bedroom door.

When the door opened his hands raced for the lamp on the nightstand. He only stopped his reach when he saw your figure in the door frame. Rick let out a breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding in.

"Sorry 'bout all that," he murmured, reaching up to run the back of his head. The man winced a little when he felt a particular sore spot. "Did someone...?" He went to speak, but you interrupted him as you came to sit next to him on the bed. Shutting the door behind you with a soft 'click.'

"Michonne hit you, you were being stupid," you sighed. He didn't say anything. He only nodded his head softly while dropping his hands to his lap. "I was gettin' a li'l dumb out there," he admitted with a soft chuckle. "Yeah, but we all understand why. We just wish you hadn't pulled that gun, Rick. You should have kept it hidden." You responded, and he had to admit. He was a little surprised. He expected you to tell him that he shouldn't have had the gun in the first place.

"I don' trust 'em." He told you, but you already knew that. Everyone knew that. Even the people of Alexandria knew that. "We know that, Rick. Known that since the barn, handsome," he leaned into your touch and your words when you reached up to run a hand through his hair. Kissing his shoulder before he leaned completely against you. He always felt like he was safe and sound with you. Like he was in another place, free from walkers, and bad people. With just you, the kids, and the rest of your little family.

"I was so scared I'd never see ya again," he murmured, and you shushed him. The both of you crawled onto the bed. Rick lying on top of you with a sigh. "Thought I'd never hear ya call me a dumbass again," he smiled and you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "I don't just call you a dumbass, I've called you smart, handsome, honey," you cooed, giving him a sweet kiss that he ate up like candy. He could never get enough of you, his smile wide.

"I know, I know, y'er sweeter to me than ya should be," he hummed before giving you another deep kiss. The man climbed further onto you, but you pushed his shoulders back. "Rick," you sighed, and he stared down at you with his concerned gaze. A soft and reassuring smile on your face while you reached up to stroke his cheek. "You smell."

Rick couldn't believe you, sneering while rolling his eyes. He couldn't hide the grin that broke onto his face, either. "Well, guess we better shower then," he hummed, leaning back in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

"We?" You questioned, but he didn't give an answer. He only rolled off of you before grabbing your hand to drag you off the bed. "Rick!" You shouted, and he laughed. "Come on, Michonne hit me pretty hard, I shouldn' be standin' in that shower alone," he told you with a coy smile. His eyes danced with a mix of mischief and innocence. You couldn't say no to him, not now. Not ever.

"Fine, but just a shower. We have a meeting with Deanna," you told him, and he snickered. The man pulled you into the bathroom while shutting the door. Pressing you up against the sink with another kiss. "That's no fun, though," you shook your head, "Rick," you warned, but he could tell by your smile that he could get you to agree to a little more than a shower.

"Please?" He asked with a lip jutted out and those eyes that you just couldn't ever say no to. A sigh left your nostrils before you kissed his chin. "You're a pain in my ass, Rick Grimes." He knew he was, a soft litter of laughs leaving his and your own throat while you both got undressed. "Only yours, honey."

Tag list: (fill out the form in my bio to be added to future tags)

@catt-leya @damnthatjunkie @joelsgeetar

[thebeautyoffanfics]

sokka x zuko

a/n : i haven't written a character x character fic in forever LMAO like since middle school i think ..... but here we are !! i know atla isn't what anyone following me is here for , but i'm hyperfixating and zukka is one of those "haha wouldn't that be funny [oh god it's not a joke anymore]" things for me . so here's a semi-short + sweet + already probably done concept fic <3 warnings : none  word count : 840

Zuko sighed, his head aching with lack of sleep. This wasn't the first sleepless night he'd had-- far from it-- but it somehow felt so much more different. What did he have to do? Was Aang ready? How could the Avatar sleep when there was so much to be done? Sozin's Comet was like a poison hanging in the air, making him feel ill with anxiety.

The waves crashing on the shore were the only sound Zuko could hear past his heavy thoughts. Looking into the night sky, his eyes were first drawn to the sparkling speckle, barely bigger than other stars visible, yet clearly redder. If he thought too hard about it, he could almost feel the blazing heat from it, the power of 100 suns coursing through the firebending blood in his veins. It used to be such a powerful thought. Now he would have given up that power if it guaranteed the safety of this world. Of his friends.

Zuko sighed, an unwilling task, as if his body was trying to force him into relaxing. Wanting to find anything but that damned glow in the sky, his eyes moved to the moon, her light the opposite of the hot red. She offered a cool, relaxing tone; controlling the water, instead of fire. The waves only a few feet in front of him reached for her, following the pull she offered, only to fall back and try again. It reminded him of the two Water Tribe siblings he knew. Katara's practice, and the moves his uncle had shown him, the pushing and pulling of the waves. The shared determination of the siblings. Like the waves, constantly moving, trying again and again to reach the moon, they truly never stopped. Never gave up. Sokka even apparently had personal experience with the moon.

Despite finding himself lost in his thoughts, alongside his body fighting against his mind for rest, Zuko heard the quiet closing of the door behind him, and the footsteps that followed suit. Forcing his eyes from the waves, he turned, looking up at whoever had decided to interrupt his hazy spiraling.

The sight of the somewhat lanky, obviously sleepy, Water Tribe boy rung as ironic in Zuko's head-- his thoughts still having been lingering on Sokka. His hair was loose, falling around his face. The way it framed it, pairing with the moonlight, made Zuko's heart feel odd.

"What are you doing up?" Zuko questioned, turning back around.

"Woke up to pee, looked out the window and saw you sulking."

Zuko felt himself smile involuntarily, ignoring the confusion as to why something so small made his chest feel warmer, and instead firing his response. "I wasn't sulking."

"Okay? Then what were you doing staring into nothingness, outside, in the middle of the night, alone?"

"... Thinking, I guess. I couldn't really sleep."

Sokka took a moment, and Zuko began to wonder what he was thinking. Was he annoyed? "You can go back in," Zuko began, shutting his mouth when Sokka plopped down next to him, so close that their shoulders touched. This wasn't unusual-- Sokka was a close person, sitting close, talking close, and overall being more touchy than Zuko was used to-- but Zuko's tired heart skipped a beat, his face threatening to heat up.

"Welp, do you wanna talk about it?"

Though audibly exhausted, the annoyance Zuko was searching for in Sokka's tone was nowhere to be found. Instead, all he found was a genuine question, an offer with no obligation.

"Uh," Zuko hummed, wondering how to even begin his concerns, "maybe... I'm just nervous, I guess. It might be stupid, I mean, I'm not the one facing my dad. I just know how strong he is already, without even considering the comet. I'm worried if I've had Aang practice enough, or..."

Zuko couldn't help but trail off when a head landed on top of his shoulder. Dark brown strands of hair fell over Sokka's face, his eyes closed and expression relaxed.

"Keep talkin', I'm... I'm listening," Sokka mumbled, and Zuko knew he would have meant it if he wasn't actively falling asleep. On his shoulder.

Warmth settling comfortably in his chest, Zuko felt himself smiling again. "It's, uh... it's okay, buddy," He said. For a moment, things felt truly quiet. Peaceful. Sokka's weight on his shoulder seemed to simultaneously ground Zuko, and allow him to drift away, eyelids growing heavy. Finally, Zuko allowed his head to rest on top of Sokka's, butterflies dancing almost pleasantly in his stomach. With a comforting presence sleeping soundly on his shoulder, Zuko forgot for a moment about his concerns, drifting into a quiet sleep at last. In the morning they would wake up. Blushes and groggy condolences would be exchanged, and Zuko would put up with his anxieties once again. But, at the very least, he truly knew, and accepted, that he wasn't alone anymore. Maybe he never had been. It wouldn't fix everything, it wouldn't undo his actions, it wouldn't take permanent reminder of his father's rage off of his face or the ruins of the world, but it would offer hope. Undying, unbridled, and ready to prove itself.

[strwyofthesun]

reminiscing...

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: you and leon return from a mission in europe. while settling back down in your shared apartment with him, the both of you take a trip down memory lane.

word count: 1.4k

content: just fluff lmao

a/n: this is my first post on here so i'm not really expecting alot. but i love writing (though i'm not the best at it) and so i'll probably be posting just for myself but if this is well received then why not post for the general public too i guess so let me know if u want me to write anything hehe... i hope u guys like it !

after returning from a long and exhausting mission with leon from europe, you headed back to your shared apartment with him to finally rest without the thought of zombies chasing the two of you like there’s no tomorrow. the keys to the apartment jangle in your hands as you open the door and let yourself and leon in with all your luggage.

“nothing better than home sweet home.” leon panted as he dropped the luggage onto the floor, clearly fatigued and body aching from the recent mission. he shuffles slowly behind you and wraps him arms around you while burying his face into your neck.

you chuckle, “i can’t agree with you more.” you kiss his head and just stay there, completely relaxing in leon’s arms. it felt like ages since the two of you have spent time like this. sure, you’ve been sent on missions together, but the feeling and the atmosphere feels different from then and now. serenity, calmness, feeling like you can actually let your guard down at last. it feels even better sharing these idle moments of peace with the love of your life, leon.

“hey c’mon, let’s unpack our luggage hm?” you said as your patted his head. leon removes himself from the side of your neck and looks up at you, “okay, okay…”

once the both of you finished unpacking, you both enjoy a warm shower together before snuggling close to each other in bed. the both of you were conversing when leon’s focus suddenly shifted to the large stuffed teddy bear that occupied the corner of the bedroom along with the other many stuffed toys.

“hey, what’s up? why are you looking at that?” you asked curiously.

“just reminiscing… it’s been awhile since i’ve won you another stuffed toy…” he replied, smiling at the memories that came flooding back to him.

—

during your trainee days at the RPD, one way to enjoy your time together with leon was going on dates at the carnival. the fun colors, the lights, the atmosphere, the screams of enjoyment rang in the air, what was there not to love? the carnival was like a breath of relief compared to the tense and competitive energy when training at the RPD. you’ve went on multiple dates at carnivals as trainees and as agents yet neither of you ever got tired of it. nothing felt old, everything always felt like a new and exhilarating experience with leon by your side. but the first time was particularly memorable to the both of you.

“come on! just put your hands up when we start going down, i swear it’ll be fun!”

“no, no, no, leon i can’t what if i fall from my seat?!”

“you won’t, i’ve got you!

“you promise?”

the rollercoaster was almost at its peak when you already started screaming as the gut wrenching feeling of anxiety starts kicking in.

“i promise.” leon said while giving you a reassuring smile as he intertwined his hand with yours. “here it comes!” he shouts as the rollercoaster began to descend at a rapid speed. you screamed your head off with leon as you both put your free hands in the air. the adrenaline was pumping in and for a moment you did enjoy it to some extent. but whatever enjoyment you had was short-lived once the ride was finished.

“oh god, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to that.” you murmur whilst getting off the ride. leon still held your hand as he assisted you all the while laughing at the state you’re in.

“need to throw up?” he joked. “fuck, i might thr-“ you cut yourself off and covered your mouth as you ran to the closest trash bin in sight. leon’s eyes widened and immediately ran after you. he held your hair back as you threw up what seemed like your breakfast and lunch into the trash bin.

“…are you okay?” leon asked quietly with a hint of remorse in his voice.

“do i look okay to you?!” you responded in a pissed tone.

“i’m so sorry… let me get you some water from one of the stalls while you freshen up in the comfort room ‘kay?”

you didn’t respond and headed straight to the comfort room. while you were fixing yourself up, leon was buying water from a nearby stall and even got you your favorite snacks. afterwards, he waited outside the comfort room to check up on you. a few seconds passed by until you exited the comfort room, still pissed at leon.

“i got you water and your favorite snacks... it’s important to rehydrate yourself when you thro-“

leon’s words were going in your ear and out the other, all you did was grab the water bottle out of his hand and drank it. he soon noticed that you weren’t paying any mind to him and abruptly stopped you.

“are you really mad at me?” his voice sounding more concerned this time. you answered back, “i don’t know leon, you tell me.”

“look i’ll make it up to you!” he quickly responded and swiftly scanned the carnival, thinking of ways to make it up to you. then, he spotted a mini-game that would later become a favorite of his in the future. “over there! a shooting game let’s go!” you scoffed as he dragged you to the stall like a little kid.

“hello there young man! interested in playing our game? all you have to do is shoot down all these five bottles to win the major prize for your little girlfriend over here!” the man handling game said to leon while smiling at you.

leon gave his money to the man and was given a toy gun loaded with only 6 pellets. “you have one pellet per bottle and an extra just incase you miss, goodluck!” the man enthusiastically greeted leon. “watch me make light work of this.” he said before giving you a wink.

he then cocked the gun and aimed it at the bottle. skillfully, one by one, leon took all the bottles down without even needing to use the extra pellet. you had to admit, seeing leon try really hard to make it up to you made your heart flutter, and the sight of him handling the gun so well just made you fall for him even harder.

“congratulations! you won! you may now pick your major prize.”

“i’ll have that one, the largest one!” he said excitedly. it pulled on your heart strings seeing leon in that state, feeling childish and so happy. knowing what he’s been through, he deserves all the best.

the man grabbed the large stuffed teddy bear and handed it to leon and his eyes sparkled with glee. he turned to face you as he gave you the teddy bear that was almost your size. you held the teddy bear and couldn’t help but break into a smile.

“thank you leon, i love it…” you say silently but loud enough for leon to hear. he felt a wave of relief seeing you finally smiling. he walked closer to you and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips, “you’re always welcome and i’m sorry, please forgive me…” he whispered. you glance over at leon and whispered back to him, “i forgive you…”

—

“i remember you throwing up a lot, you were so loud too that the kids were looking at you concerned and telling their mommies they didn’t want to ride what you rode.” leon said as he broke into a fit of laughter.

“and who’s fault was that?! weren’t you the one that dragged me into the ride?!” you shouted as you punched leon.

“ow! atleast i made up for it!”

“yeah, you did… you’re lucky those training sessions actually helped you.”

“what can i say? you’re looking at the man who topped his classes.”

“okay, okay, no need to get cocky, maybe you’re forgetting i ranked second to you”

“say that again. you ranked what? second!” leon burst into laughter once more and you retaliated by play fighting with him in bed. eventually, the two of you wore each other out and the both of you have calmed down from laughing so much that your stomachs hurt. you turn to face leon but he was already looking at you.

“i love you leon…” you said lovingly, placing your hand on his cheek and caressing it gently.

he held your hand that caressed his cheek and kissed it then leaned closer to you placing a kiss on your lips. “i love you too, more than you’d ever know…”

[deesi-academia]

hey, I saw the anti swiftie post. If you're comfortable mag I know the reason why? I am kinda neutral about her but I feel like I should know stuff. I understand if you don't wanna answer this. Take care <3

(also I agree the swiftie fandom is kinda annoying lmao)

hello old old old anon ask I'm so sorry for replying so late but yeah hi 😭

I have tons of time on my hands for the next.... 30 minutes so let's get into it. I'll list a time line of my thought process to how I came to the 'ex-swiftie' conclusion:

1. She released a song called "renegade" which is good, but I found some lines problematic and unexpected, because I used to hold swift to a pedestal (guilty as charged).

The lines were 'is it insensitive of me to say get your shit together so I can love you' and 'is it really your anxiety stopping {something love something idk} or do you just not want to?' SOOOOO yeah these thew me off a little.

2. Her album Midnights came out which I ADORED, became my fav so quick. But then her multiple variations of vinyls etc threw me off again. This is when the Bad Feeling About Her started setting in.

3. Then she released the song 'You're losing me' which just BLARED red flags to me even though the song is actually good. It's the first time I think, where she hinted that she broke up with her bf (Joe Alwyn) because of his mental illness.

4. The ongoing carbon emissions controversy lol, and her buying carbon credits... like it just felt like a "hah I'm rich so I can do whatever wrongs i want and buy it out" moment. I really hated that, since I live in a pretty polluted city so it hit close to home.

5. She threatened to sue the teenager who published PUBLIC data about her flights. Bad.

6. The entire free palestine movement gained momentum and she stayed silent. She has her image as the American Princess and Activist Who Can Do No Wrong. Feminist Queen. Speaker For Those Who Can't Speak. Yada Yada.

I simply hated her billionaire self as she chose to stay silent (and still is). To call off the criticism she and her bestie Selena went to a live comedy show where the comedian donated his earnings for Gaza relief. LIKE. ??????? Basic billionaire below underground level of "donation"???? This had to be a joke. It was not.

I think this incident was the final straw for me where I realized I can't support her if she's such a human being. That's not what my morals stand for thank you very much.

7. I REALLY tried to separate the art from the artist but I couldn't. Not with my sane mind and strong ethics. AND THEN the entire Matty healy debacle. He's a misogynistic, racist, zionist, ugh of a person.

I don't think anyone can date someone with such drastic opposing values. So the Taylor-Matty era further tarnished her image in front of me.

8. Fast forward and she releases her new album The Tortured Poets Department. That's it this was my final straw. You can just Google and go on a reddit thread about how problematic this album is. I'll probably write a long ass essay on it. Anyway this is where I decided I'm done, back in April.

Since then I've just been trying to cope with losing my fav artist because of the person she turned out to me. And people say we shouldn't hold celebs to such high standards but bro. Taylor PROMOTES parasocial relationships. SHE held her image to that standard until recently. There's an entire documentary on Netflix about that - Miss Americana.

So yeah she let me down from the pedestal she put herself on. It's been 2+ months and I'm still coping, because I genuinely lost a very important part of my life - her music. It has got me through tough times and I have many good memories associated with those songs.

Anyway, here's to new artists to love ONLY for their music lol 🥂

[michixoxo]

hey, hru? could u write a nsfw oneshot/scenario with arlo and reader (she/her,afab) like on a day where arlo IS horny pls? tysm♥️

hi! and ofc! thanks so much for being my first request lmao (tw. nsfw)

word count: 1.3K

you and arlo have been dating for a while now, a few months since you first confessed your feelings. even as you lay in his apartment, taking a day off school, it all still feels like a fever dream. you can barely remember the anxiety you felt the days leading up to your confession, wondering if someone like him would even give a second thought to someone like you. you're glad your worries were wrong, glad that he became one of the best boyfriends you've ever had, even with all his faults.

as you lounge on the couch, you hear the metal sound of the keys opening the door, a certain blond entering soon after. your blond. and doesn't it feel wonderful to say that? wonderful to say that this man, with furrowed eyebrows and a lasting scowl, is yours. however, your thought is merely fleeting as he collapses against the couch in front of you. he sighs, face flat between your thighs as he loops his arms around your leg to scratch at that sunshine like hair.

"something wrong?", you ask, tickled by his follicles on your bare skin. you were simply skipping school, so the thought of wearing pants, or even underwear, didn't seem all that important to you before, only throwing on one of his over-sized shirts. "when is something not wrong? i swear they're gonna kill me." he groans, eyes closed and tilting his head into the warmth of your thigh. he takes a sharp inhale, ready to rant, when he opens his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering open.

you have half the mind to be embarrassed as he stares, red flushed ears shining through golden locks. but unfortunately, your brain doesn't reach your pussy as it twitches and clenches under his stare. you have half the mind to be worried as he smirks, but instead you're undeniably wet.

"missed me?", cocky ass. "you wish. it was just hot in here. you payin' your bills, sweetheart?", you taunt, but his eyes barely move to face you. in fact, his hands roam on your skin, feeling cool on your heated, supple, plump flesh. "may I?", "may you what?", "well... don't make me say it...", his eyes move slowly from you to your pussy, then back up. its impossible to not know what he means.

its almost uncanny, is this really the same arlo you knew? the arlo that would barely ever initiate affection, not to even mention PDA. you guess he really has been stressed from everything going on at Wellston. you guess you wouldn't mind being his reprieve. you nod.

a small bump grows under the shirt as his blond head approaches your core. he starts with a small kiss on your clit, enough to get you blushing. then, his tongue slides across your slit, a lewd noise slipping out of you. you bob your head back, allowing him to continue with your supportive hand on his head.

he kisses, slurps, and practically eats you out with a firm hand on each of your thighs, holding you up while devouring every part of you. you grip onto the couch pillows as he sucks on your clit, whimpering with every suction of the bead of nerves. you barely notice the small puddle of saliva that builds beneath you, joking between strained moans, "what a messy eater...". you roll your eyes back, legs shaking involuntarily as you orgasm on his lips. you make out the familiar sounds of slurping as you squirt on his pretty face.

and a pretty face he is, as he ascends from below your legs like a saint exiled. staring down at you, with wettened lips and hair clinging onto his flushed skin. he breathes heavy with glazed eyes, glossy yet still so cocky, pride etched in every lash. sewn in the way he looks down at you. he leans down to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're good at this.", "i'm a man of many talents.", "ever thought about turning this into a profession? you might make a pretty penny y'know—?", "i only ever want to be your whore.", who is this and what has he done to arlo?

you're too stunned to speak as you notice his hands reaching down to his pants, palming at his growing erection. "may I?", "do you want to?", "mhm, mhm... can I, baby?", those baby blue eyes are fucking deceiving. deceiving as they look at you like you're the only person on earth. fuck, he's beautiful. the devil really isn't a little red man, now is he?

either way, your breath hitches as you lay your eyes on his hard dick. 8 inches? no, 9? its slender and veiny, reminding you of his lovely hands. his presses it against your slit, "is this okay? tell me if it hurts. i don't want to hurt you.", and you can see the truth in his eyes. you nod, smiling faintly at him as you bring your hands up to caress his face. he enters slowly, inch by inch. you can feel every corner of yourself being filled to the brim, him having to push, hard, just to make the entire thing fit. you feel as if your lungs are having air pushed out of them, exhaling only to breathe. you feel so—

"so full...!", you grunt, the thing, the entire thing, in you. "does it feel good, mon ange?", he huffs, taking off his uniform jacket and placing it on the edge of the couch. did you ever notice how good he looks in white? the room echos with the sounds of his slow thrusts, the squelching noise of your pussy acting as background vocals. you nod, only now processing his words. he laughs, in a tone that almost sounds condescending, though you're too fucked out to care.

he leans both his arms on the arm of the couch, using it as leverage to fuck into your raised hips with more force. he moves one of your legs onto his shoulders, the angle making you see stars as he goes harder, faster, harder, faster,

"tu es ma bonne petite salope, non? tu le prends si bien. oh, putain!", call yourself a francophile, but you'd be lying if the words didn't make you quiver on his dick. he smirks, the couch creaking with each of his thrusts. oh fuck. oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuckohfuckohfuckfuckfuck, "'m gonna cum, fuck!"

you go deaf and dumber as you cum, speared on his dick. a faint ringing sound and the sensation of his hips against yours are the only things that are able to pierce your fading consciousness. yet, you still are able to make out the image of the pretty blond on top of you, sweat dripping down his jaw.

"puis-je jouir en toi? ange?"

with barely a whisper, he slams and sputters, rolling his hips against your own. he cums inside you, a sweet drawn out moan escaping out of him. this calm, collected, cunning man cumming inside you, an alliteration that would probably get you banned from english class. but if that's what it takes for you to listen to him speaking french all day while fucking you senseless, so be it.

. . .

"babe...my dick...", he groans beneath you. you giggle slyly, arms around his neck and sitting on his dick, your boobs intentionally in his face. "what? don't like me cock warming you?", you say, smiling as you look down at him. he sighs, placing an absent hand on the curve of your ass and turning his head, your boobs placed gently on his cheek. "can't ever argue with you...", you giggle at him, his signature scowl returning ever so slowly. "after this, we're taking a bath.", you blink, "we?". he smirks, "what? you think i'm done with you?"

[torchickentacos]

15 Questions!

Tagged by @gaycey-sketchit !!!!! Thank you so much for the tag, and I loved reading yours! Long post, sorry lol.

1. Are you named after anyone? Nope! Not to my knowledge, anyways. Though if my mom told me that she named me after Taylor Hawkins from Foo Fighters, I would not be shocked.

2. When was the last time you cried? I think monday? I cry really often, at every single emotion. Happy? I'm going to cry about it. Laughing? My high school theatre class would always point out when they made me cry laugh. Sad? ABSOLUTELY crying about that. I didn't cry but I DID tear up yesterday because I was really happy about something nice someone said to me.

3. Do you have kids? Nope, and no intention of having them. Regardless of my desire to or not (usually not, being the oldest of four is enough for me), my health is not, and never will be, in an acceptable position or ability to go through that, and I've accepted that for a while now.

4. What sports do you play/have you played? As a kid, I played soccer and did gymnastics! In middle school, I BRIEFLY did fencing. My mom told me that when I was fencing is the only time she's ever seen me look truly graceful (lmao, love my mom dw. She's right). Then health stuff came up and I had to stop, but fencing just came as easily to me as breathing did. I always wonder where I'd be if I could have stuck with it. Nothing's ever immediately clicked with me the way fencing did, but it's hell on my joints.

5. Do you use sarcasm? Sometimes, usually when I'm annoyed which isn't TOO often. Or if I'm being hyperbolic for a joke.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people? No clue. I guess their demeanor- if they seem happy or not, if they look stressed, how they're feeling (or how I perceive them as feeling, I guess).

7. What's your eye color? Blue! My friend swears up and down that they're kind of green. I think she's colorblind.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings!!! I am not built for scary movies. I can do some buzzfeed unsolved and I can watch markiplier play indie horror games but that's kind of my limit. I LOVE some types of horror, but my anxiety does not. I will be paranoid for a month after.

9. Any talents? I can play music by ear. Give me a guitar and a random song and ten minutes at most!

10. Where were you born?

11. What are your hobbies? Landscape/scenery art (also other art but it's much harder), writing, playing guitar (used to play piano too but not well. I also own a ukulele that I'm bad at, but generally I can play something on any instrument you give me). But mostly, I pick up and put down hobbies all the time. I've dabbled in crochet, embroidery, sewing, painting, archery, coding, needle felting, gardening, cooking, a little bit of everything. Never long enough to get good at most of them, though. I get bored too quickly.

12. Do you have any pets? A lovely husky (shelter girlie <3) and a gecko! And, for the gecko, a bunch of crickets at any given point in time, which I guess counts because I have to take care of them, too.

13. How tall are you? 5'2 and a half. 5'4 with my doc martens.

14. Favorite subject in school? Assuming lunch doesn't count, I was a theatre girlie. Assuming THAT doesn't count, English. I liked English because if I didn't have an answer, I could just bullshit one, but I usually did enjoy it and had real answers. I'll tell you why the curtains are blue and why they're the specific fabric they are and what the rest of the room means- if I'm interested, anyways.

15. Dream job? Oh boy, uh. Still trying to figure that out. DREAM job, like, without worrying about money or my physical ability to do it? Pro fencer, but I gave up on that a looong time ago. I genuinely believe I could have done it if my knee hadn't gone to shit at fourteen. I'd love to work in a record store or a music store, though, which is a little more in-reach.

Tagging: Anyone who sees this, lmk if you do it from this post!! But also, NO PRESSURE AT ALL but @soulsilversprings @nowandevermore @lostlegendaerie @mozukumi !!! Also whoever else wants to, I get nervous to tag people so assume you're tagged, too!