#the extent to which is yet to be expressed but still

[aakaneeee]

Love is presented in many ways throughout Alien Stage: For Mizi and Sua, it's codependent, romantic to a worrying extent. For Ivan and Till, it's one sided, unrequited, and painful.

And for Hyuna and Luka, it's a curse.

Not only a curse, but one that haunts them. Jacob once told Hyuna to "Forgive yourself", which, to her, was misplaced. She could have forgiven herself. It was Luka who she couldn't forgive. But, in the end, she couldn't fulfill the legacy. She couldn't forgive herself for loving Luka. She couldn't forgive Luka for killing who she loved. And so, what did she do? She passed on the legacy.

The words "Forgive yourself" didn't help her. They built who she was, but in the worst possible way. She couldn't take his words, because she didn't consider herself the culprit, but the one she resented.

She told this curse, "Forgive yourself" again. She told them to Luka, sentence that almost sounded mocking on her lips. She couldn't have died before because she had to keep moving forward, but now, the pressure wasn't on her shoulders anymore.

She loves Luka, of course she does. But she cannot possibly forgive him. She knows he doesn't realize the suffering he inflicts. It's ironic, he's so unbearably smart, solving puzzles in a matter of seconds, but he doesn't know how to take in the real world, and the feelings of the ones around him, the most important 'puzzle' of them all. So, she gives him the biggest dilemma of his life. It's harsh, cruel, messed up in every sense. It's the puzzle she knew he could never solve, because she herself, who knew humanity, couldn't. Hyuna knew Luka loved her more than himself. And Hyuna cared for Hyunwoo more than for herself. Luka killed Hyunwoo, and so, Hyuna repaid him with the same coin, an eye for an eye. With an act that is the ultimate sacrifice, and the ultimate revenge.

As I have said, Hyuna knew the love he had for her, beyond the limits of his own body. She must've known how much her act would destroy his world: a fate worse than death. Her kind tone, telling him to take as much time as he needs to solve the newfound question she has proposed in such an ugly way, appears almost taunting.

And the way she holds him in her arms, purposefully close, and looks into his eyes, makes it just so much more painful. And yet, when she speaks her soul, passes everything she was carrying on her shoulders, over to him, her face is hidden away, buried in his shoulder. She's free. She finally had her revenge. She can forgive him, and then herself, even though the price was destroying him, without building him up again. Leaving him like pieces of a puzzle that never got solved. She's been cruelly betrayed, and she, even more cruelly, fed him his own medicine.

Hyuna is haunted by both Hyunwoo and Luka, similar to how Mizi is haunted by Sua. Hyunwoo brings the horror aspect: the bloodied blouse and head, while Luka has the smile that Sua has in the imaginations. The two people she loved most: the one who couldn't forgive her because she didn't get to apologize, and the one she didn't forgive. It's all so incredibly complex: she hates and loves, she resents and adores. Hyuna can't pick anymore. We're shown that she's such an active person, sociable, loving, having a whole group of humans just like her, and yet, we're told that she thinks all of them are selfish, even if they seem altruistic. She doesn't trust them, it seems it's a facade. In this, Luka and Hyuna are similar, but divided by the fact he wants to conceal his emotions, and she wants to make them more visible.

This page, specifically, made me click MiziSua and HyuLuka together. They look scarily alike. The same lovey-dovey expression, versus the distressed one of the lover, even the slight glow that Luka has is similar. I think this is meant to show that they still depend on each other, despite the fact that Hyuna seems to resent him so much.

Hyuna says Luka doesn't know the meaning of love. That the only thing he's ever shown, the only thing he genuinely knows, is suffering, and that his abilities basically stop at inflicting the same. (At least, emotional ones.) This is a parallel to Ivan, in my opinion, who didn't know love either, but he liked the idea of it. Instead, Luka loved with everything he had, even though he had no idea what it truly was. His love is obsessive, and somehow, so impossibly innocent at the same time. Because in a way, he's still a child. When he sees Hyuna, he becomes immature again, his facade of control dissipating into thin air. He mocked Mizi for her inability, but he's even worse.

According to his ear monitor, his heart was beating out of his chest. He could hear his own erratic heartbeat. It's painful, how happy he was, how excited, to be in her arms again. And yet, despite the love, the embrace was just as much of revenge.

Ever since Wiege, we've seen Luka smile so much. Just for him to never truly smile again.

I am a fan of the gentleness that Hyuna treats young Luka with. She seems awfully attached to the image of that innocence she knew. But it's not like Mizi's idea of Sua, the perfect one. It's an image she can't bear seeing again. "I couldn't stand seeing myself on those posters, because I knew exactly the face the you'd have. Yes, I bet you were smiling ear to ear." We've only seen him like this for the first time, but to her, it was so familiar, even years apart, she still knew.

Another thing I have noticed is that Hyunwoo's grave is right infront of a tree, almost separated from the others, just the way Luka was sitting before Hyuna found him. Now, this time, Hyunwoo lost Hyuna, and he's forever forced to be lonely in the garden he'll never grow out of.

Hyuna wanted to give Luka a rubik's cube he wouldn't be able to solve, something difficult. A rubik's cube can represent human nature, who Luka seems to have mastered completely. But Hyuna finally manages to postpone him: the puzzle is herself.

And in the end, after Hyuna's body goes limp, he finally manages to take her in his arms. He promised that there, she'd be safe, but he didn't manage to keep her that way. And suddenly, the words "My Savior" from Ruler of my Heart are awfully true.

[sunnydiet]

uncle jack saying “i’ll call you later” and charlie responding “i know u will” is something that can be so personal.

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."

[thef1diary]

Podium Princess | LN + CS + CL

Summary: Lando lost a bet, which would have just temporarily damaged his ego, but the problem was that you were the prize that Charles and Carlos desired for one night.

masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. do not repost without permission

Warnings: 18+, mmmf, unprotected sex, three men for three holes 🤭, fingering, oral, anal, dp?, filthy as fuck, derogatory terms (kinda), praise, overstimulation, riding.

pairing: lando x fem!reader x carlos x charles

wc: 3.1k

Request: You should totally write a smut about lando sharing his girlfriend with Carlos and Charles after placing in the #australiangp

"You did what?" You asked your boyfriend, wondering if you misheard his words. "I made a bet," Lando responded, but this time with more assurance.

You sat down on the bed in your shared hotel room and asked, "what is it?" Patting the spot next to you, silently indicating Lando to sit down and begin explaining the bet. You've known from the years you've been dating that whenever he places a wager, he eventually loses, but you chose against mentioning it.

He hesitated for a moment but then decided to explain how he ended up in that situation.

The evening began when Lando noticed Carlos and Charles speaking after the qualifying session. He observed they had been spending a lot of time together recently, so Lando obviously had to approach them and disrupt their latest gossip session.

Putting the trio together, one would discover that they never run out of topics to discuss, which is how they found themselves sitting in a car in the parking lot outside their hotel. Carlos suggested that since they were all staying at the same hotel for the weekend, they might as well leave the track together.

However, during the car ride, there was a discussion that quickly brought out the competitive nature that each driver had developed at a young age. "What, you guys don't think I'll win?" Lando asked the Ferrari drivers, slightly offended. This particular topic of conversation started once they discussed the possible winners for the race tomorrow.

Based on the three practice sessions and qualifying, it could be argued that while they all had a fairly nice weekend so far, some were still more fortunate than others. As a result, the Spaniard shook his head, disagreeing with his friend, "mate, I'm starting second tomorrow, which clearly means I have a better chance of winning."

"I was first in fp1," Lando retaliated although they all knew that qualifying in a higher position meant more than topping a single practice session.

"You might have a good chance, but Max is on pole, let's not forget that," Charles reminded his fellow colleagues. Lando perked up at his words, "exactly, so all Carlos needs to do is somehow crash him out of the race so I can win."

Charles laughed at the outrageous plan, but Carlos scoffed, "I won't ruin my chances at a podium for a race you won't win." Noticing Lando's defeated expression, it caused Charles to laugh harder. "Not that I think either of you would win, but let's make a bet," the Monégasque suggested.

"Who do you think will win?" Carlos asked. Charles' dimple deepened as he smiled, "me of course."

This time Lando scoffed, "yeah, sure mate," then he looked at Carlos, "what do I get when I win the bet?"

"This," Carlos stated while holding up his middle finger towards him. Rolling his eyes, he decided, "fine, I'll ask for something when I win, and then you two won't be able to deny it."

"And what do we get if you don't win?" Carlos asked, looking at Charles who was waiting for an answer from Lando.

While Lando was focused on what he would ask for if he won the bet, he failed to consider that Carlos or Charles were more likely to win than him. He would have a one-in-three chance of winning the wager, but Lando hadn't realized the extent of the situation just yet.

"Not that it'll happen but what do you guys want?" He asked only as a formality to actually set the bet.

Carlos was quiet for a moment as he thought of something that would be worthwhile, looking at Charles to see if he had any ideas. Then he thought of it—of you. "Your girlfriend," he simply stated.

It took two seconds for Lando to start laughing, not that it was ever a challenge to do so, but he initially assumed that Carlos was joking. His laughter quickly died down once he didn't hear either driver laugh along with him.

Looking in the backseat at Charles briefly, who nodded in agreement, Lando snapped his head towards Carlos, "what do you mean my girlfriend?"

"It's simple. If Charles or I win, then you have to share your girlfriend for a night, if not, then you don't," he explained nonchalantly.

Lando looked at Charles, "and you agree with him?" He shrugged, then nodded, "she's hot, I wouldn't say no."

He slumped back in his seat, "I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win." While Lando was secure in his abilities, both drivers around him thought he was growing overconfident. "So you agree, that if you don't win, we can have her?"

Nodding it off and waving his hand around, Lando agreed, "yeah, you can."

You were stunned into silence once he finished explaining. Noticing your lack of words, Lando was unsure of your thoughts. "You don't think I'll win?"

You shrugged, "all I'm gonna say is that you have twenty-one other chances to win this season if you don't win this race." You didn't exactly answer his question, but he realized that you weren't opposed or disgusted by the idea either. Pulling you into his lap, he tilted your chin upwards with his fingers and leaned closer for a kiss.

He tightened his grasp on your chin to stop you before you could press your lips against his. "Oh I see, you don't want me to win just so you can be passed around like a slut between my friends?"

"You wouldn't have put me as the prize if you didn't like the idea," you retaliated, smirking as you moved his hand away to finally place your lips on his.

—

You stood among the crowd, cheering for Lando, who took his place on the third step of the podium. As the podium celebrations began, a part of you was also looking forward to the celebrations that would follow later tonight. Lando may have lost a bet, but it was the first bet you were glad he lost.

That is how you ended up in your hotel room with your lover, waiting in anticipation for the other two drivers to arrive. With his trophy set aside, you and Lando were occupied with each other; your eyes closed and head tilted back as he trailed kisses down your throat.

Then came a knock on the door, one that made your heart race in all the best ways. Lando stood up and opened the door, revealing Charles and Carlos standing on the other side, still dressed in their Ferrari polos from earlier that evening.

"What did he say? I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win," Charles greeted by mocking Lando's words from the day before. "Alright, alright I get it but I still placed third," he retaliated which earned a nod from Carlos. "Congrats, cabrón."

You could hear them laughing among themselves, but it quickly died down once Carlos and Charles spotted you. Lando had suggested that you should wear red, considering both of the drivers that placed first and second adored red.

There you sat on the mattress, leaning back on your forearms with an ankle crossed over the other, clad in only a tight short red dress which you were glad you ended up packing.

"Well, fuck me," Charles muttered under his breath earning a chuckle from you once you heard his comment. Standing up and slowly stepping towards them, you replied, "fuck me indeed."

Your gaze was fixated on Carlos, the race winner, whose eyes revealed a glimpse of all the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. "Congratulations, you both deserve a good celebration," you said, smiling as you felt Carlos' arm snaking around your waist and Charles' breath fanning your face.

"Is that what you're going to give us? A good celebration?" Charles asked, his lips grazing your cheek. "I'll give you anything you want."

You looked at your boyfriend for a second, making sure he was still comfortable with the situation before proceeding any further. But you just saw desire in his eyes and while the corner of his lip curled up in a lazy smirk, a nod from him allowed you to carry on. He may have nodded at you, but his eyes darted over your head to his fellow drivers, "Go on then, Carlos, Charles, claim your prize."

Your lips parted slightly, marvelling at the fact that Lando hadn't even addressed you, instead treating you like an object to be claimed. The worst part was realizing that you liked it since his remarks had made you clench your thighs together.

Carlos grinned at your obedient behaviour as he was easily able to tip your head back to face him. Now that they truly had the freedom to do anything they wanted to you, with your permission, neither felt bad for having sinful thoughts about you—their best friend's girlfriend—while Carlos and Charles were alone in their bedrooms.

Kissing you with a sense of urgency, Carlos stole your breath away in a matter of seconds. Your thoughts had quickly dissipated into thin air as you felt Charles trailing his fingers up your body while pressing up behind you.

You heard Lando shuffle around before leaving the three of you alone in the bedroom for a moment which only intensified your feelings. Sandwiched between the two men who are good friends of yours, were now looking at you as if you are merely an outlet for their sexual desires.

Sliding down the straps that held your dress up, Charles continued kissing every inch of your bare skin revealed to him. His hands rounded to your front, pulling down the flimsy piece of fabric to display your tits to the duo. Your nipples instantly pebbled as Charles' fingers brushed against them, making you tilt your head back and resting it against his shoulder.

Letting you regain your breath, Carlos moved down to your neck, replacing each kiss Lando had placed earlier with small nips and grazes of his teeth, just painful enough to still be pleasurable.

While both their mouths were occupied, the Spaniard's hands pushed down the rest of your dress to the floor, parting away for a moment to let you to step out of it and toss it to the side with your feet.

Lando returned to the room, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent a moan from leaving his mouth. You were now completely bare, with two fully clothed drivers—his friends—pressed against you while their hands roamed all over your body.

Discarding his shirt on the floor, he occupied your mouth with another kiss, muffling your moans. "Fuck, enjoying yourself, baby?" Lando muttered once you parted away for a moment. Nodding, you opened your mouth to respond but a sharp gasp left your mouth as you felt Charles' fingers teasing your clit while Carlos palmed your ass.

"Merde, she's so perfect," the Monégasque commented, spreading your pussy with two fingers while a third finger swiped through your folds to catch the wetness that gathered between. "Charles," you breathlessly whispered, a plead for more.

"So ready to be ruined," Carlos added, his own fingers prodding your ass, earning a string of curses along with pleas to keep going from you. Gathering your slick from your cunt, Carlos coated his fingers to ease just the tip of one finger into your ass.

Soon enough, you were laid down on the bed, and one by one the three men stripped their clothes away, adding to the ever growing pile that started from your dress. You could barely keep your eyes open due to the feeling of three pairs of hands roaming everywhere, not leaving any inch of your skin untouched.

You had already orgasmed twice, but you couldn't remember whose fingers brought you over the edge the first, or even the second time, as all of the sensations mushed together in what felt like one never ending wet dream.

Staying true to your words of giving them anything they desired, you moaned around Carlos' cock as Charles slid his dick in your pussy without any forewarning. Your grasp on his thighs tightened as Charles began to thrust, slowly at first but then showed no mercy once his grasp on your hips tightened.

Carlos pulled your mouth off his cock, but quickly replaced the emptiness you immediately felt with two of his fingers resting heavily on your tongue. His actions didn't allow you to close your jaw, causing you to drool down your chin, and only then he was satisfied.

"Such a good fucking girl," he commented, which only made your head spin further while you smiled at the compliment. "Oh she likes that," Charles added as he felt your pussy clench around him at Carlos' praise.

His fingers that were now coated with your saliva trailed down your body to where you and Charles were connected. He nodded mockingly at his teammate's comment, "yeah, you like being praised?"

Easily finding your swollen clit, he slightly pinched it before creating small circles, edging you closer. You nodded, "please, please, please." You were sobbing for relief, your voice strained from the constant cries that left your lips with each new wave of ecstasy.

Connecting their gaze, Charles and Carlos smirked as they silently agreed to let you cum once again. Charles's fingers slid closer to your back hole, this time able to slide two fingers down to the last knuckle. At the same time, Carlos' fingers left your clit only to join the thrusts of Charles' cock, scissoring two of his fingers in your pussy to stretch you out even further. Pleasure surged through your body, and you closed your eyes tightly at the sudden sensation of being so full.

Charles slowed down his thrusts, prolonging your post orgasmic sensation. You slumped forwards when he pulled out, still holding back his own release for now.

Despite still being eager, they were ever patient with you especially after bringing you over the edge multiple times now, knowing your limbs were close to tiring out.

Still on your hands and knees, you shuffled up to straddle Carlos, sinking down on down cock this time, mouth dropping open as he stretched you out slightly differently compared to Charles.

"C'mon, cariño, ride me," he instructed, resting his hands on your hips, urging your movements while also allowing you to depend on him for help. "You feel so good, Carlos," you panted.

You heard some shuffling around you again but you couldn't move your gaze away from watching your pussy engulf Carlos' cock over and over again.

However, you were startled once you felt a cool sensation prodding your ass; Charles' fingers coated in lube. "Need you to relax, baby," you could hear Lando's words and he was quick to come into your view, stroking his dick to the sight of you filled by his former teammate.

He grabbed your hand off of Carlos' shoulder, guiding it towards his cock. Already slick with his precum, you could easily move your hand up and down, watching his reaction with hooded eyes.

Charles' free hand wrapped around your throat from behind while he whispered in your ear, "we're gonna fill up all of your holes, darling."

Groaning, you nodded, "please," a word that you had repeatedly spoken to the point where it sounded like a broken record. "You want that?" One of them asked, but you couldn't focus on whose voice it was. "Fill me up, please," your words turning into a moan as Carlos shifted underneath you, reaching deeper inside.

Releasing the grasp on your throat, Charles focused on opening you up with his fingers, for you to be able to take his cock in your ass while Carlos continued pounding your pussy.

Lando replaced Charles' hand, grabbing the back of your neck, threading his fingers in your hair to bring you close for a filthy kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing, he slightly bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and pulling on it for a moment before letting go.

Without any words exchanged, your boyfriend guided your mouth towards his cock, filling up two out of three of your holes. It took you a moment before you actually started moving your head up and down, moaning and drooling on his cock because of Carlos' upward thrusts.

Charles removed his fingers, having deemed to have stretched you out enough then coating his dick with a good amount of lube. With one hand palming and spreading your ass, he used the other to guide his cock into you. Your eyes welled up with tears, not entirely painful but almost overwhelmed with being filled everywhere at once.

Your body was quickly calmed down by Lando, Charles, and Carlos as they moved their hands all over you in soothing motions. Charles began thrusting when you nodded because you were unable to speak while Lando's dick was in your mouth.

Your muffled groans sounded distant to you, mind foggy, but you had never felt so full and aware before.

With a warning, Lando filled your mouth with cum, which you swallowed greedily without hesitation. Now, with your mouth unoccupied, you couldn't hold back on your moans. "Gonna cum," you warned, knowing you won't last long, still sensitive from your previous orgasms.

Charles' fingers reached your chest, teasing and pinching your nipples while Carlos rested his palms on your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

Your pace stuttered as you came around his cock, and Carlos took the reins and thrusted upwards, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. "Fuck, where do you want us?" Charles asked, tethering on the edge and based on Carlos' stuttering pace, you knew he was too.

Your next words pushed both over the edge, "inside." Slumping forwards, you felt both Ferrari drivers filling you up with their cum. "Fucking hell, that was hot," Lando commented, leaning closer to brush away the strands of hair stuck on your forehead due to sweat.

Charles and Carlos carefully eased you off their cocks, with Lando helping you lie down on the bed which you immediately melted into.

It was unbearable for you to be completely empty after being entirely filled. Mustering up all your strength, you held your arms out for your boyfriend, who immediately joined you on the bed, whispering praises in your ear.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Charles decided to clean you up by wiping the cum that had leaked out of your holes with a damp towel. They saw the bruises from their grasps on you in the heat of the moment and couldn't help but smile, knowing they were the cause of it.

You hoped, as you drifted off to sleep, that the three of them would share the podium more frequently, and therefore, share you as well.

Taglist based on the form (let me know if you would like to be removed) @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @evlkking @jointhehunt67 @wonnou @nikfigueiredo

[misstycloud]

Yandere bully x f. reader

{He’s not a bully towards reader.}

Yandere bully who is the terror at school. No one want to be close to him in fear of being his next target. People are afraid of even looking at him, thinking it will trigger his bully-instincts. No one wants their head shoved down the toilet, their books thrown in the fountain or getting shaken down for cash.

Yandere bully who is, despite your reluctance, you friend. The two of you are neighbours and childhood friends. You often sigh whenever he will go on about his latest victim and the ‘funny’ expressions they made when scared. He truly thinks it was hilarious. You truly don’t know how he got this bad.

Yandere bully who targets anyone who’ll talk to you for more than five minutes. Who are they and why do they think they have any right to be near you? It seems he’ll simply have to teach them a lesson or two.

Yandere bully who smirks in sadistic delight as his victim crawls on the ground like the worm they are. Don’t they know that worthless insects shouldn’t go masquerading as something else in order to get close to a butterfly? Their pleas for forgiveness fall on deaf ears. They shouldn’t have talked to you but they did it anyway. It’s their own fault. The entire school knows you belong to Yan. Bully and to stay away of face the consequences. Just follow the rules and you’ll be fine and dandy!

Yandere bully who is a completely different person with you. There are no traces of the cruel, sadistic bully whenever he’s in your presence. Although, he can still be a bit cranky and leave a mean comment to anyone he deems deserves it.

Yandere bully who treats you like a real princess- his princess to be more exact! He buys you gifts like stuffed animals, puts the small candies he knows you adore on your desk and writes you cute notes with a bunch of compliments on them. If others had knowledge of the extent he’d go for you they all be shocked. Does this vicious bully really have enough human in him to care for someone else? Seems unlikely. He’s a total monster in others eyes. He’s nothing more than a rude, condescending, sadistic freak who would love nothing more than to torment you- that’s who he is to everyone but you.

Yandere bully who you know you should break of contact with. Though you’ve never seen it(which is a conscious decision on his part), you’ve heard of the things he does to other people. He has never done anything bad to you but he doesn’t really hide his hideous deeds either. It’s a struggle. Especially since your families are close as well. They’d never believe you if you told them the stuff he’s up to. The same as you, he also plays ‘sweet angel’ with your families. They simply believe he’s nothing more then a (slightly) overprotective friend who’s hopelessly in love with you (yes, they all know about his feelings towards you, he’s told them in hope of getting support from both sides and it worked).

Yandere bully who you can never get rid of. He’ll be around every corner waiting for you. Even your families think it’s a fantastic idea for the two of you t be together. It would be such a sweet story; two childhood best friends who, throughout their growth, develop strong feelings for each other! It’s often that someone asks whether the two of you are dating yet, to which you sigh and he lets out a warm chuckle, saying ‘hopefully soon.’

Yandere bully who is not above threatening others’ lives if you refuse him. He’ll use these disgusting filths as leverage and make their lives hell (as if he wasn’t doing that already) unless you date him- specially with marriage as the end goal. By the end of the day, people would be begging on their knees for you to just love him back already. If you just dated him then they wouldn’t be in so much pain.

Please, don’t force him to him hurt others.

[beekeeperspicnic]

Advanced warning that this made me cry when I thought about it, and then I shared it with friends and it made them cry too, but I think it's ultimately a nice thought so I want to share it. Sorry if it gives you the sniffles.

I'm always cautious when it comes to parasocial relationships - with actors I don't actually want to know the ins and outs of their lives, they are strangers to me and that's how it should be.

But like a lot of Sherlock Holmes fans I've ended up becoming a Jeremy Brett fan to some extent, because first you love his performance, then you find out the sheer dedication he put into that role, and then you find out how he did so while coping with significant mental and physical health problems, and then you hear story after story which suggests he was a lovely man whose mind seemed to put barrier after barrier in the way of him getting to experience the full extent of the joy he put out into the world. And I think a lot of us identify with that.

There's a quote from "The Jeremy Brett - Linda Pritchard story" floating around on Tumblr where Pritchard describes how one thing which really bothered him at the end of his life was that he couldn't give any more performances for his fans. Apparently hearing that the Sherlock Holmes series was on video (something he hadn't considered because he didn't own a video player), and his fans could watch him over and over again, made him happy.

And of course, my first thought when I heard that is I think he'd be so happy to know we're still watching them and dissecting his every movement and expression.

But it also hit me because during Beekeeper's Picnic recording sessions, Jeremy Brett is mentioned so often. Ok we've got at least one actor who worked with him (and indeed reports unsurprisingly that he was "lovely"!) but also people my age who were kids or not born yet when that series aired - they're professional actors, for whom Jeremy Brett remains 'their' Holmes, their point of reference for the character.

I can't wait for all of you to get to hear our amazing Holmes actor James Quinn, but it wouldn't be feasible to get him in every recording, and so often our actors have to just read his lines and respond. Once, one of them said "I'll just imagine Jeremy Brett," and I love that so much. Somewhere baked into my little game, is an Imaginary Jeremy Brett, called forth by an actor needing a Holmes to bounce off.

Jeremy Brett's performance isn't locked in amber, a thing of the past. It's fresh for each new generation that sees it, and it inspires new performances and new art. He'd adore that, I'm sure.

And to get even more philosophical, I think that goes for all creative work - and anything else you do in life. No matter how big or small the action, you never know how big your ripples you leave behind are. It's worth remembering.

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

Bestfriends?

Dark!Gojo x Reader

18+ MDNI, dark, animal cruelty, non-con, violence, Gojo is horrible (I mean it), baby-trapping. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should've known better than anyone that Satoru was never the merciful type.

His cheerful personality wasn't a facade but having known him for years made you aware of all the little tics that made him so terrifyingly him. Particularly that one little tic of his that always manages to send chills down your spine and ice the edges of your heart from fear despite him being your bestfriend.

The kind of fear that makes you wanna curl up into a ball and shrivel up just from the thought of being in the receiving end.

It's the little tic of his that makes him act like a cat which terrifies you even after all these years. It's not the way he acts so annoyingly asshole-ish like some cats or the way he acts so clingy like your beloved cat, Saibo, that scares you. No, it's the way he acts like a cat in it's most primal form that scares you. An instinct so abominable that it makes you cringe from disgust at just the thought of Saibo imitating it.

It's the very tiny tic of his that makes him toy around with his enemies like a cat that toys around with it's prey. Not for a just cause like survival but for the mere fact of entertainment to ease it's boredom; maybe you should've just killed yourself before it reached to the extent of making yourself Satoru's next target, his next prey and his pretty, little wife.

"Satoru, I told you twice already. My answer is a no, I don't want to marry you" you sigh, folding your arms across your chest as you look up at the man looming in your apartment doorway with an expression so blank that it reminded you of a statue.

A statue hand-crafted by the heavens itself and wearing the skin of your bestfriend.

His silence is a curse and for some eerie reason, you could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere behind you. Like a countdown of a bomb.

"Why?"

Flabbergasted doesn't even start to describe what you feel at his question because you've been telling him exactly why for the past two days since he stepped into your office and offered his proposal. And yet here he is, repeating the same question like a stuck recorder. There's nothing else you can say, you've already used up all of your excuses ranging from being an orphan to his clan elders future disapproval.

So when Saibo comes and rubs itself against your leg? There's only one utterly stupid sentence that presents itself-

"I promised my mum that I wouldn't marry anyone until I lose Saibo." Great, just great. You're a damn genius, obviously intelligent enough to dig a deep enough hole and bury yourself alive because why on Earth would you bring your sweet mum up right now. Leave the dead to rest in peace is what you should've don-

The smile tugging on his lips and the light tone of his voice after the uncomfortable silence cuts your monologue off. "That's all? I just have to wait for you to lose Saibo for you to marry me?"

"Watch your words, Gojo. You've gone too far" You snap, narrowing your eyes up at him.

If looks could kill, Satoru would've been buried a good 60 ft deep in because you obviously weren't gonna be satisfied with 6ft. Not after what he said; sure you did imply it but that still doesn't make it any better.

"This is going too far but rejecting me three times isn't?" Satoru scoffs, walking in so confidently that it made you stumble back and made your beloved cat hiss at him, bless her heart. His back faces you and suddenly it's cold, chills runs up your spine after your initial surprise fades and the click of the door lock seemingly drowns itself in the rapid thump of your now slowly thundering heart. You're getting deja vu, you're sure of it, it's the same sensation you always get when he gets on the battlefield.

When he turns back around, you notice that his blindfold was off but the look on his face is what makes you freeze. His gaze was anything but friendly and his eyes were a color so menacingly blue that it cuts through your skin and attaches itself in that tiny part deep inside you that always made you wary of him. For good reason.

Saibo jumps in front of you and promptly growls, a sound that you never heard her make, shaking you awake from your frozen daze and forcing you to watch the person you called your bestfriend quickly close the small distance.

"All I wanted was your acceptance" he says, ignoring the hissing cat in front of him "Is that really too much to ask for from you, pretty?"

"I can give you everything, Satoru. Everything except for that" you breathe out shakily, goosebumps rising in your arms when he caresses your cheeks. A touch so cold that you're not sure if it's because of his infinity or the frozen mechanism beating in his chest that he calls a heart.

"Then give me everything" Satoru's hand on your cheeks slides down to your neck, wrapping around it to pull you close "I'll give you everything you want in return, I'll give you anything in the world"

His hold gradually tightens on your throat, almost like a threat. No, it was a threat.

"Do you even know what you're asking for?" You spit out, nails digging into his wrist but that damn infinity of his kept you out and him safe almost like he was the victim in this situation.

"You clearly know that I do darling, and it's a damn shame really" He leans in, his eyes filled with so much adoration it makes you wanna gouge it out "Since I always thought you were a smart girl but maybe it's time to treat you like you're dumber than you are"

His last words are a whisper in your ears and in a split second his infinity is down and his lips roughly crash against yours, one hand squeezing at your throat and the other forcing your mouth open to shove his tongue inside while your hands tears into his skin and pushes at his chest, his face, his shoulders but all it earns you is a loud moan from him that shrivels something up inside you when you realise he likes it.

He likes your desperate attempts to free yourself from his disgusting hold. Likes the way you struggle against his grasp. Likes the way you whine and whimper protests against his lips, trying desperately to bite down on his tongue and finger but pathetically failing to do so-

What he doesn't like is the way Saibo also manages to dig her claws into his skin, much like you, albeit shallow due to the thick material of his pants but doing enough damage to attract his attention. You've had Saibo for 15 years and never was she so violent, tears springs in your eyes at the thought of it but before a single tear even manages to glide down your reddened cheeks, there's a push and you're down flat on the couch behind you and Satoru is holding a hissing Saibo by her fluffy white cuff.

"Shame, I actually liked you since you looked like me y'know?" Satoru hums, holding her at a safe distance with a small frown "Made me think that you'd remind her of me"

"Satoru, let her down" you manage out shakily, sitting up and holding a trembling hand out for Saibo. Hoping that Satoru wouldn't do what you think he's gonna do, he's your bestfriend afterall...isn't he? He should know better than that-

"I was trying so hard to be nice to you darling. I even went out of my way to ask you three times but you- hah- Honestly, you brought this to yourself" he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, an almost feline grin plastered on his face as he steps back.

You've known Satoru for years now and sure he was a little volatile, somewhat impulsive and downright crazy when it came to the things he wanted but at least he was constant.

Constant enough for you to know that he was batshit insane.

"Satoru, please" you plead but her back is facing you and his hands is around her neck and there's nothing you can do but rush towards him a second too late. There's a sickening crack and a loud howl and Saibo's back is turned towards you but her cerulean eyes burns through your skin and heart and mind and soul an- the ticking of the clock finally stops. "Well she's gone now. Looks like you're finally able to marry me" his voice is light, almost cheerful while you're frozen in place. Tears blur your vision but both their cerulean eyes burns stark in your mind, Satoru and Saibo.

You've lost two bestfriends in one day. Lucky you.

There's a strangled cry emanating from somewhere, one so despaired that it claws at your heart and makes you wanna cover your ears and just cry yourself to death.

"I didn't want to do this either, darling" there's a quiet shushing and a warm hand places itself against your mouth, blue eyes gazing back at you like he hurts more than you do.

You shut your mouth and the sound is gone but the scratches in your heart still stings when you're pushed flat on your back. Still hurts when you limply tilt your head to the side to look at the lump of white on the coffee table and ignore the dull feeling of someone groping you because your pretty cat laid there, it's dead blues staring at you.

Saibo, your pretty little cat. Your mother had adopted a cat when you were young, a cat just as soft-spoken and warm as her. A pretty little ragdoll with soft, white fur and cerulean eyes that always licked at you like its own kitten when your own mother held you in her arms and cooed sweet nothings to you.

There's a numb hold on your cheeks and a hollow sound of squelching when you feel someone pry your mouth open and force something wet inside. Your blurry gaze flickers down to see your shirt missing and ugly red spots splotched across your chest, flickering your gaze upwards only to find blue eyes staring back at you.

Blue eyes like your mother's cat, one that never left your mother's bed after her death. She had a litter of five when your mother was alive, she had only one left after your mother's passing. The very one that she gently laid down on your open hands, licking your cheeks one last time before curling up in her usual spot and quietly passing away on your mother's bed a month lat-

"Don't go gazing off into the distance on me now, pretty girl" Someone coos in your ear, the blurriness of your vision slowly melting away when a warm hand wipes the silent tears streaming from your eyes. And then you see the familiar face of a man that looked nothing like your bestfriend, nothing like the Satoru you thought you knew.

You blink. Once. Twice. Trying to make sense of his echoing words through the haziness of your mind that wraps around you like a blank cocoon and numbs the intrusive feeling of his touch in between your legs. Time is a privilege and you don't know how long he's been at it but the dull heat resting low in your stomach and the disgusting feeling of his fingers moving inside you was as unwelcome as it was unwanted.

Not like he would've cared if you voiced it out.

Satoru always did have the ability to unceremoniously wrench the space people considered safe from underneath them; you've watched him give his enemies a false sense of security enough time to immediately recognise that familiar smile making its ways on his lips. The smile that made you realise that your fate was sealed, only proven true by the burning stretch that rips at the haze in your mind and steals the welcomed numbness to replace itself with burns that sears into your skin and brands itself deep inside.

"Satoru st-stop" you breathe out, brows furrowing from the sharp stings as you dig your nails into his skin and create little moon shaped dents into the milky expanse of his chest. "C-can't, won't" he groans out, pushing his cock well past the resistance of your clenching walls with gritted teeth "Also relax darling- hngh- you're just making it worse -shit, stop that" His hand besides your head moves to your hair, hold so tight that it pulls at your scalps and makes you grunt out in pain.

"Wait. Look I'm al-already halfway in" Satoru groans out delightedly, forcing your head up to make you look at the way he was buried inside you. Pulling out just a little to show his thick cock covered in your slick and blood because of course you'd bleed when an inhuman size forces itself inside your tight hole even after all the prep.

And then he's pushing back in mercilessly and there's a choked, painful moan forcing itself up your throat "St-stop -ah-it hurts!"

"I'm sorry darling. I know it hurts but it won't for long" he shushes at you quietly, pressing featherlight kisses on your forehead "It'll just hurt this one time, I promise." Your body is screaming so hard from the pain and betrayal that your voice seemingly loses itself in it, quiet gurgles being the only thing rising from your bleeding throat when he suddenly bucks his hips and bottoms out in you.

And then you're gone.

Nothing in this world could ever make you forget the sound of his heaving moan and guttural praises; praising you for taking him so well, acting like he didn't just force himself past your resistance and inside you.

Your tears and sobs don't deter him, it only turns him on, only encourages him to whisper sweet nothings in your ears, the sound of it makes you wanna rip your defiled ears off, and lick at the fat blobs of tears sliding down your cheeks. His small show of mercy is allowing you to adjust to his size; it only makes you feel worse, just the thought of him inside you for a second longer makes you wan-

An impatient thrust is all it takes for you to go numb again, body going limp when he runs out of patience and grabs hold of your hips to slam you down on him. Over and over and over again until you're nothing but a pile of meat and bones, and he's nothing but a groaning mess of everything you hate. Until your howls turns into muted little ah's and his held back moans morphes into a version of your name that he so religiously, and loudly, mewls in your ear with every buck of his hips against yours.

His voice is as muted as the sound of wet skin slapping against each other, your head limply tilted to the side with your gaze blankly fixated against the brown material of your couch when your body shuts itself down. But like all respite, Satoru steals it away again with a click of his tongue and a hand squishing your cheeks together into a small pout to force your head to the other side. Forcing you to look at the disproportioned lump of white on the table that you once called family.

Satoru could just say that he personally killed your mother at this point.

"Don't w- ngh-worry. Always knew you wanted a family" he rasps out, biting and sucking at every inch of skin he could get his lips on "Now I'll give you one, a real one. One that doesn't include a damn cat"

"S'toru" you whisper out, barely finding your voice in the mess and like always, it's ignored for his own rambling. "Gonna fill this right up for little mini-me" there's a sharp sting on your chest, you force your gaze down and look over his hand to watch him suckle at your nipples like a newborn babe searching for milk. An idea he's soon gonna turn into reality. You rasp his name out louder, ignored again when he finally lets go of your cheeks to slide it down to your womb and press down, hard "I-I swear I'll make- ngh-you into a mama if it's the last thing I do"

There's only so much feeling that your body can numb, only so much it can do against Satoru and his dick. Your orgasm was anything but pleasant if not painful, feeling his every inch, vein and curve mold itself inside you and rip you apart with shocks so violent that you jerk and writhe and clench your gooey walls down on him- you know it's finally over when he babbles in your ears and spurts something hot and repulsive inside you, his brutal pace finally stuttering to a stop and turning into a grind, perfectly plugging his obscenity inside you.

"Satoru" your voice is foreign to your own ears, his heat goes unregistered and the white cold lump is promptly forgotten because of that one thought buzzing in your head. "Yes darling?" His voice is as foreign as yours to you, his gaze undecipherable when he pulls away to look at you, leaning down to kiss you on the li- "I hate you"

He pauses, lips brushing against yours just barely. There's that signature smile of his and the regrettably familiar feeling of his lips pressing against yours. His reply seemingly drowning itself in the constant buzzing of your ears, only one thought ringing through your mind over and over again.

You should've killed yourself the very moment he proposed to you.

Masterlist ° NSFWlist Had to post this snippet cuz 2 months is a long time to be dead for. I got the heebie jeebies writing this but I was too far into it so I had to finish it😦

[agathasfamiliar]

you better make me better (pt.3)

agatha harkness x fem!reader

After killing your entire coven, Agatha Harkness is hungry for something else. And you're more than willing to give her what she wants.

other parts: 1 2 3 4

word count: 4900+

warnings: 18+ MDNI, begging, brief loss of consciousness (reader), death mention, electric shock (reader), fingering (reader receiving), magic during sex, mouth fucking (reader receiving), "pet" (for reader), allusions to prey/predator dynamic (agatha referred to as a wolf), brief religious imagery, brief scratching, smut

author's note: if i missed a warning please lmk. this is my first time ever writing smut so i hope you enjoy :) this may be the last part but i do have an idea for jealous!rio showing up in an additional part if anyone is interested

The adrenaline coursing through your body finally overrides your brain and forces you to move. You look down and watch one of your feet shift in front of the other, not behind. Your perspective expands as if you’re floating above your own body, a kite on a line watching yourself move ever closer to the woman who just killed your entire coven. You’re a woman possessed. 

She watches you approach, you can barely make out the amused expression she wears at the desperation in your gait and the ragged breathing that you’re now able to observe objectively from this odd other state of consciousness. You would be embarrassed at the display if you weren’t so high on whatever it was you had just witnessed. On the look of desire in her eyes after it was done.

You distantly know better, know that you should be afraid of this woman. That you should be horrified at having just watched the only family you’ve ever known, no matter how cruel they may have been, expire before you. 

But you’re not. Not even a little. Not even at all. 

It’s not until you reach the other woman that your consciousness returns to its proper place behind your eyes rather than somewhere looming above both of your heads. 

She continues to wear the same amused expression, but you’re able to see it more clearly now. Her arms are outstretched in a questioning gesture, asking “what now?”. 

You could still run, or at least try. It’s unlikely that you would get far based on just how much raw vitality you know the witch now possesses. 

Why does that almost excite you more? A thrill runs through you at the thought of making a break for the treeline just to see how long it is before you’re back in her arms. But you decide it’s best not to bank on that fantasy just yet. 

Not when the thing you want most is a hair's breadth away.

Even she seems surprised as you launch yourself into her arms. You force her to support your weight as she had when you first encountered one another, which now feels like days ago though it has realistically been less than an hour. You didn’t know the extent of your need to feel her holding you again until now, as you land back into her waiting embrace. 

As her arms encircle your waist she releases a satisfied sigh. You’re unsure what diverging choices she saw vying for dominance in your eyes, but you know in that moment that you made the right choice.

“You saved my life.” You stammer out, trying for the most synthesized explanation of what has just occurred. If it also acts as a justification in your mind for your longing for this deadly woman, that’s an added bonus.

Another sardonic chuckle escapes from her throat at that.

“Can’t say I hear that one often.” She admits, softening slightly at the terribly earnest look in your eyes.

“What’s your name?” You ask dumbly, partially interrupting the moment, but you need to know. Especially for what you want to do next.

She looks incredulous, mouth opening in faux offense at your lack of knowledge concerning the obviously famed witch before you.

“My name…” She begins, hands you briefly forgot held you now flexing around your waist and digging intently into your sides again, just as you’ve so badly wanted since they released you previously. 

“is Agatha, dear.” She punctuates the name with two thumb nails that seek to brand either hip with half-moon indentations, even through your clothing.

Electing to ignore the increasing pressure, you flash your eyes up at her again. You know you’re putting on a bit of a show now but you get the sense this woman, Agatha, might appreciate that sort of thing.

“Well, Agatha.” You say, savoring every syllable to show her exactly how delicious the word tastes in your mouth.

“Thank you.” You continue, mustering as much sweetness into the phrase as you can, your lips practically dripping with honey.

Her head tilts slightly to one side, obviously trying to suss out whatever it is you’re driving at. 

Whether it’s your own impatience or the desire to throw this woman off guard you’re not sure, but the next thing you know your own hand is snaking out from its space under Agatha’s steadfast grip to brush over her cheek.

You reach gently at first, relocating a stray strand of her brunette hair that had fallen into her line of vision at your enthusiastic arrival. Her blue eyes bore into you, but she appears curious, not stopping you. A good sign, you think.

You’re suddenly reminded of the image of the wolf that flashed through your mind moments ago upon seeing her from across the clearing. The way she looked standing triumphantly surrounded by her fallen marks.

Your pulse quickens incrementally at the reminder. The reminder of what you are in this equation. If she’s the wolf, that makes you…

The train of thought speeds from you as you continue to fall into pools of cerulean being quickly overtaken by expanding sinkholes. The dilation of her pupils seem to correspond with the closing window in which you’ll have any time to make a move of your own. Inky sand runs through the hourglass counting down the moments until you’re completely at the mercy of Agatha Harkness.

The small noise Agatha makes as your touch turns from a delicate brush to a heat seeking missile is victory enough. 

Your hands card quickly through dark tendrils before you close the gap between the two of you, mouth crashing into hers in a rush. 

You pull yourself further into her rather than pulling her to you. She is a distant planet swirling in purple storm and you, a meteor, finally surrendering to her gravity. 

The sweltering heat of her mouth on yours puts the fervor of her gaze to shame. What remained of your mind melts in seconds, consumed entirely instead by Agatha, Agatha, Agatha. If she is all that exists in this moment, as you suspect she is, then the world is briefly a perfect place. 

It’s no time at all before she takes complete control. You half-heartedly wave your momentary “upper hand’ goodbye that you readily acknowledge you will never have again when it comes to Agatha Harkness. If you ever truly had it at all.

Her hands squeeze your hips once only to climb your back with precision. Fingers tangle into your hair roughly, positioning your mouth just as she wants it to further her access to you. Your head lolls back easily at her prompting, jaw dropping to accept her tongue as it probes into your mouth covetously. 

Her groan at your immediate acquiescence only spurs you on further, opening impossibly more to allow her to taste you as thoroughly as she can reach. She drinks deeply of your offering, retracting eventually only in favor of much required breath. 

You instantly hollow your cheeks, sucking at her tongue greedily, letting out a weak whimper at the loss. One would think her saliva the nectar of the gods based on your craving reaction to it. You wouldn’t be surprised if it truly did grant you some life extending boon for all the newfound magic that you know is surging through the woman whose clutch you’re encased in.

Despite your disappointment at the kiss diminishing, you’re rewarded by the visage before you in the pale moonlight as your eyes flutter open once again. Eyes once clear as crystal are now endless voids of obsidian with how blown her pupils have become. You imagine yours look much the same, but to see evidence of the utter affect you’ve had on the incredibly powerful woman before you has you preening. 

She looks impressed at you, still calculating as if she can’t quite decide where to categorize you in her brain, and something tells you she doesn’t feel that way often.

“You are clever, aren’t you?” She exhales finally. You can’t help but smile slightly at the fact that she probably didn’t mean to sound that breathless. You have no room to talk, however, as your mind is empty of all possible ways to reply as soon as you open your mouth to speak. You just grip tighter to her, inclining your head slightly in a silent request for more.

“What?” Agatha asks rhetorically, voice clearer now as she tightens her grip in your hair to keep you from reconnecting your mouths.

“Cat got your tongue?” She grins, flashing her own teeth.

It’s all you can do not to erupt with emotion, searching desperately for words that refuse to come. 

You tilt your head forward instead, submitting to Agatha’s grip and resting your forehead to hers. The lusty sound of your breath roars into your own ears as you puff out the only word your mouth can find the shape of. 

“Please.”

And it’s like you’ve found the perfect key for a stubborn lock. The secret code. Just what she wanted to hear.

A dam breaks as Agatha turns you in her arms, dragging you the short distance to the nearest tree large enough to support you. Your skull and spine impact against the bark in a less than elegant fashion but you barely take notice, too focused on the intent of the woman now pressing you to it.

She looks divine, you can almost see the power coursing through her veins. Feel the magic she’s just consumed thrumming beneath her skin and running to the tips of her fingers. You clench involuntarily at the idea of where those fingers may end up soon enough. Where you desperately want them to end up.

Her arms bracket your body and she lifts one of her knees, pressing it between your thighs which are still blanketed in cotton skirts. It does little yet to relieve the mounting need growing in your core, serving mostly to restrict any possibility of you moving out of her grasp. Your knees bend slightly at the position, which both forces you to lean to rely more fully on the sturdy oak trunk behind you and allows Agatha to crowd you completely. Her face now hovers at least six inches above your own with the incline. 

All you see is her, blocking the view to the carnage you’ve already long stopped caring about. The torches still standing in the distance paired with the energy rolling off of her in waves forms a saintly image before you. You’re lowered to an altar, ready to receive whatever blessing the woman you’re in the presence of deems you worthy for, clad in her lavender-hued halo formed of the surrounding light. 

Once you're pinned, Agatha adjusts slightly, running her left hand through the long, tangled darkness on her head, removing any obstructions between the two of you. You follow the action with your eyes, still unable to think about much other than those fingers buried in your wet heat. Purple threads dance between them almost imperceptibly and force your teeth to clench to stifle a groan at the prospect of what they must feel like.

Agatha must notice your fixation because her gaze follows yours before meeting your eyes with a slightly raised brow.

“You want to feel it, don’t you?” She asks conspiratorially, voicing the secret you’ve tried, albeit poorly, to keep. As she speaks, her fingers wiggle out at you playfully, more sparks bursting forward harmlessly but you feel them reflected low in your belly nonetheless. 

You nod bashfully, screwing your eyes shut against the admission, knowing you have nowhere to hide in your compromised position.

“Unh-unh-uh.” Agatha admonishes, cheekily shaking her head. 

“You’re going to look at me and you’re going to use your words.” She demands, mimicking her movement from earlier by stabbing beneath your chin with the points of her nails, forcing your face to level with hers. At the contact you can feel a slight vibration almost bordering on pain, like many tiny lightning strikes, the sparks arcing out to connect with your skin.

Your eyes burst open, both due to the new physical intensity as well as not wanting to find out what happens should you not follow Agatha’s instructions.

“Yes.” You breath laborly, using every ounce of willpower at your disposal to hold her blistering eye contact. 

“Yes, what, pet?” She urges, not allowing you an inch. 

“Yes. I want to feel your magic… inside me.” You whimper out, realizing you aren’t exactly sure how to even voice what it is you’re asking for.

“Where? Here?” She questions playfully, fingers maneuvering from beneath your chin to climb up your face. The mouthwatering buzzing of her fingers leaves a potent trail of tingles in their wake.

Though it’s not exactly what you want, and her eyes tell you she knows that, you can’t help but reflexively let your mouth open gently as her fingers dance at your lips.

In one swift motion, two long digits slide along your tongue until they reach your throat. If this and her previous kiss are any metric to go by, you’re learning Agatha Harkness does not deal in half measures.

In the moisture of your mouth the thrumming is amplified. Your senses are overtaken by the electric current forcing its way further and further into you and you can’t help but close your eyes against the never-before-felt rapture. You feel it move down your throat and branch into your every cell, nerves alighting as you can’t tell if your lightheadedness is from the sudden blocking of your airway or this miniscule but steady stream of magic being pumped into you. 

You garble sounds of pleasure around her fingers, bobbing your head to try to get them even further down your throat despite the fact that you’re already unable to get a full breath. 

She marvels at you and you peak your eyes open to see the twitch of her eyebrow as she is clearly in deep concentration to maintain the perfect level of harshness for your exquisite torture. 

With one more measured burst of force you think you might unravel right there, untouched where you need to be most, but the seeking fingers instead regrettably withdraw. The only saving grace being the ragged breath you’re able to siphon into your lunges once they’re gone.

“I want-” You erupt, voice breaking hoarsely around the words as you try to get them out as quickly as possible.

Your head tilts back up to meet Agatha’s eyes challengingly and with undeniable licentious need. Heat rises to your face at the anticipation of your own next words, the blaze pricks moisture at your eyes but you compel yourself to maintain steadfast. 

“I want to feel your magic inside my cunt.” Biting out the last word does little to stop a desperate cry from following it.

When Agatha doesn’t immediately move, you curse yourself, racking your brain for how to amend your mistake. You’ve asked for too much, been too forward, not given her what she wants.

She leans impossibly closer into your space and you realize she’s looking expectantly to you. Smiling in a knowing sort of way, like a teacher urging on a student who’s on the brink of breakthrough.

You look at her pleadingly, you start drowning at the prospect of saying the wrong thing and ruining whatever it is that’s happening now. It’s a sick combination of all the times various witches have tried to teach you to harness your powers. You brace for the familiar disappointed sigh at your inability to understand. 

But then you remember the key. The way you’d found yourself here to begin with. She is waiting for it again.

“Please!” You almost scream and her smile breaks to a dirty laugh that tetters on the edge of a moan at the painful urgency in your voice.

“You could’ve just said so.” She quips unhelpfully as she jumps back into action, clearly pleased at how quick of a study you’re proving to be.

Another gasp quickly follows, this one prompted by the cold air that breaks against your bare legs as she hoists the end of your skirt and petticoat to bunch up beneath your bodice in a fluid movement. A seemingly practiced one, you notice, which burns a small seed of both jealousy and admiration through you in equal measure. 

The chill causes you to curl even further into Agatha in a way you think she probably intended. Your right leg, no longer restrained by fabric, wraps around her hip to pull her closer to you, both in desire and a seeking of warmth. Agatha’s left hand comes down from where it’s hovered around your mouth to support your leg that now draws her in. Your own saliva smearing along the flesh of your thigh coupled with nails that graze slowly up and down cause even more goosebumps to raise across the skin there.

You let out a shaky breath at the movements as her head drops to your neck. You can feel her smiling against you at your thinly veiled need before smoldering open mouth kisses imbue you with renewed hotness. 

You allow yourself to breathe even heavier with her ear practically against your mouth, making sure she hears just how affected you are. If it wasn’t already obvious.

She leans her torso back slightly, supporting you more with her hip now as her right hand, which was previously holding her weight against the tree above your head, moves down to hold the back of your neck possessively. Her mouth trails down to your collarbone then licks a blazing line over the curve of one breast before giving equal attention to the other.

You lose track of which way is up as the dizzying sensations wash over you. It’s not until you feel long searching fingers slide against the wetness at your inner thigh that you are able to zero in on her precise ministrations. 

“Even more eager than I expected.” Agatha admires, pulling her hand away from your heat to get a better view on the new slickness that now coats the index and middle finger of her left hand. The hand on the back of your neck moves encouragingly for you to look down at the evidence she displays and you moan knowing you’re the reason for the shine that now coats the long, power-filled fingers in front of you. 

You are dripping for the woman so much that she was able to collect your arousal several inches away from where you need her most.

“You’re so ready for me.” She says quickly with a husking delighted tone as her hand moves back down in a flash, her other working in tandem to yank your eyes up to meet hers. 

You’re unable to get another word in edgewise before the same two perfect fingers that were just in your mouth are sheathed within you to the last knuckle.

The moan that rips from you at the shock takes both of you by surprise and that flush that still hasn’t left your face spreads down and across your entire chest in an instant. Your toes curl involuntarily and you feel so full, part of you thinks it may be only these two fingers that now hold you upright. Without them, you might as well be a boneless pile on the forest floor.

Agatha almost mirrors your face, eyebrows knitting together in a sort of sympathetic mock surprise. Her eyes go wide as yours do, intent on soaking in every microexpression as you adjust to the feeling of her inside of you. 

You watch as her bottom lip catches between her teeth, a look of mischief and anticipation before she starts to move against you. Another broken moan, though more controlled this time, escapes your lips as her fingers pull out almost to the tips before driving back in again. You try to drop your head to her shoulder, already ragged from the first thrust, but her other hand tightens further into the hairs at the nape of your neck, keeping you looking at her.

“I want to see you when you come undone for me.” She breathes, nodding encouragingly.

You nod back, only feeling able to parrot her sentiment, no coherent thoughts of your own forming. That is until she gets that unyielding look in her eyes that you’ve grown to now recognize in your short time together.

“Yes, please.” You squeeze out, clenching around her fingers at your own words coupled by her thrilled reaction to them.

With your eyes now fully locked on hers, she starts fucking you in earnest. She’s rocking into you in powerful but measured thrusts. All the while, blue eyes search yours hungrily. 

The image of Agatha absorbing the magic of the others flashes back through your mind again. The thought of her still wanting more drives a spike of hunger through your own stomach. Whatever it is she wants, you want to give it to her. 

You want to sate her. 

Your breath comes in huffs. Hands that rested against her waist to steady yourself now hold on for dear life, your fingers clambering perilously into the fabric of her dress.

It isn’t until you’ve adjusted to the rhythm that she’s set, moans falling from your mouth incrementally, that you see that focused look flash across her eyes again. The one you saw as she poured voltaic rhapsodies down your throat.

Rather than bracing for whatever it is to come next, you relax into her touch as you feel her start to pull out of you before curling her fingers hard into your walls. 

Her hand shifts below you to allow her thumb to rest against your aching clit, which has gone neglected until now. The steadily climbing pleasure starts to coil within you more fully now and you think it can’t get better than this.

And then, the shocks return. 

The outpouring of sweet, stinging purple surges into you even more intensely than before. If you were able to move from the vice grip of Agatha’s other hand keeping you fiercely focused on her, you wager you would be able to see the purple glow of power shining from beneath the bunched bundle of your skirts as the potency of what she’s streaming into you reaches a fever pitch.

Your moans swiftly turn to mewling as she hits that spot inside you over and over again in quick succession, the lances of her magic climbing further and further up your body with each one. You pull and scratch agonizingly at her back and waist and shoulders and anywhere you can reach.

Her pace is unrelenting, curling harder and harder with every thrust to match the power of the mounting raw energy. Her face breaks into further delight the more yours contorts with ecstasy. She even releases a low chuckle at one point, followed by a groan that she punctuated with a few quickened pumps into you for good measure.

You know you can’t hold out much longer, the pleasure is racing forward like a tidal wave and it’s threatening to break over you at any second. One part of you believes that the spellcraft she is pushing into you is making you stronger with each burst behind your eyes and the other anticipated its apex may atomize you on the spot. At this point either option feels worth the pure bliss you’re experiencing.

“I- I’m gonna-” You force out, brokenly. But you know what it is you have to say. 

Agatha nods at your admission, egging you on, pure elation on her face. She knows that you know what she wants and it excites her all the more.

A torrent of begging tears from your throat in an instant, an endless string of “please” that you can’t stop even if you try.

“Please, please, please Agatha, please!” You chant even as she quickens her pace, satisfied by your invocations. You think you hear a crackling of electricity within and around you at Agatha’s final push of magic through your system and it breaks you.

Your orgasm crashes into and out of you in equal measure, the ambient purple light flares in your eyes and consumes the world around you in an amethyst fog. You’re unsure if it truly is the world around you exploding with color or if you yourself are glowing brightly from within, the purplish tone of Agatha’s magic that still courses through your veins looking for somewhere to ground itself. 

The bliss that envelopes you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, the euphoric sparks arc over your scalp, flaring where Agatha still holds you at your neck and it continues all the way down to the tips of your toes. You distantly hear yourself exhale, feeling contentedly very far away from your own body for a moment.

Eventually, the blanket of purple starts to diminish and as you regain your senses you start to hear someone faintly whimpering. What might be mumbled words that you can’t quite make out mix with the whining sounds as you try to dial into what it is. You blink a few times, eyes focusing once again on the woman in front of you.

You realize then that it’s you still repeating the mantra of pleas. The fingers that were curled against the skin of your neck now comfortingly stroke through your hair, tucking strands that have been shaken loose behind one ear. 

Agatha cooes softly, eyes once that of a starved animal now search your face with some small amount of concern and tenderness. Your voice dies out slowly as you return to your body and gain more control over your faculties, wondering humorously if you actually just briefly lost consciousness due to the amount of pleasure you experienced. 

The woman that’s holding you sighs quietly in relief as you finally meet her eyes lucidly. A soft wince leaves your throat as she gently lowers your leg, that has made a vice around her hip, to the ground. Even in your semi aware state you still catch the way her grip tightens and slows your limbs descent to ensure it causes you the least amount of pain possible. At Agatha’s prompting with her own fingers, you flex your fingers and toes, attempting to regain full sensation in your extremities. 

You’re unsure when she removed herself from you but you do note the emptiness you now feel without her, even in your blissful state.

Agatha then helps you find your footing, mumbling gently about making sure you’re able to balance, but still giving you a silent moment to process. It’s so unexpectedly sweet, you think, the way she’s doting over you given the preceding events of this night.

Once you’re standing on your own two feet again, you slide one hand from her back to rest against her chest, just above her heart. You realize you’ve yet to meet her eyes with more than a glance since your brief ascension from this mortal plane, partially self conscious about what you might find in them, no matter how silly that sounds on the heels of her taking you apart the way she just did. 

As you steady your breathing and finally raise your eyes to meet hers you see her already staring. In a word, she looks fascinated. That curl of her lip is back that tells you whatever categorization she was working on earlier has still come up uncertain, even having just seen you in what is probably the most vulnerable state anyone ever has.

It’s almost funny, everything that has happened in the last hour combining in your mind, and in this pleasure-drunk condition you’ve found yourself in, “almost funny” means you can’t help but let loose the laugh that begins bubbling out of you.

You throw your head back in a fit of giggles that only proves to further confuse the witch before you. 

“What is it?” She inquires, her voice husking in a way you haven’t heard before as both eyebrows raise in a further confused expression that only makes you laugh harder… and also makes you want to kiss her. 

So, you do. 

Because you want to, and your brain is probably slightly oxygen deprived, and you can’t find a good reason not to. Not that you spend much time looking for one.

You lean forward, cutting off your own laugh by capturing her lips between yours. Your teeth bite playfully into her bottom lip in a somewhat sloppy, but undeniably joyful way, and elation washes over you at the return of the messy brushing of lips. 

The two of you stay that way for a while, kiss deepening languidly between soft laughter that Agatha now joins you in, though slight puzzlement is still evident in her tone. Eventually, you part, your hands having found a home on either side of the witch’s face. 

As you pull away, you’re unsure what you’re expecting, but what looks back at you is a more simmering version of that darkness that had briefly cleared from her eyes. That ravenous manner flickers back into view, not threatening but undeniably there. The coallike dilation portends to snuff out any remnants of crystalline irises as she takes a labored breath, glancing down to your lips once more before meeting your anticipating stare. 

You were wrong before, you think, when you thought you wanted to sate this hunger. You know in this moment that all you want to do is feed it, slowly. 

Ensuring it will keep on chasing you forever.

[teyrnacousland]

I think it's also important to remember that Lucanis has never been an ambitious person. Lucanis has never wanted to be First Talon. He isn't going into this job with a list of ideas about what he wants to change about the Crows. He wanted Illario to be First Talon, he very much spent his life wanting/expecting a continuation of the current status quo. He has never even let himself consider that he could be First Talon someday, so he's never thought "if I were in charge, this is what I would change". He's never let himself think past "if I were in charge", and if he ever did his next thought was likely "I'd die soon enough so I don't need to worry about it". Lucanis, at least as he is currently, does not have plans to reform the Crows in any way.

Even things like the Crows being an unstable not-quite-organization full of infighting isn't something he ever seems to talk about as "I would change if I could", it's more "it is what it is". Maybe once he accepts that he actually is First Talon, whether he likes it or not, he will start to think about fixing things like that. But as of right now, I genuinely don't think he's let himself consider what he even could do as First Talon, let alone what he wants to do.

Teia and Viago are the ones who are out there grabbing power where they can and rising through the ranks because they have ideas about what they would change if they were in charge of everything. Lucanis has never been that type.

I love Lucanis but I am not convinced that this is the man who will reform the Crows.

[mihii-i]

shackled.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.

A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️

Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.

You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.

Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?

Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.

There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.

“I’m home.”

You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.

Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.

“You got some-“

“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.

Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.

Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.

A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.

Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.

Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.

“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”

She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.

However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.

Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.

Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment

“You didn’t want this either did you?”

Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.

“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.

“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.

“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”

You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.

“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.

“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”

Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.

Maybe, you could warm up to her.

A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️

[anneapocalypse]

Not gonna lie, analysis of Minfilia that rests on a reading of her as some kind of hiring manager at a company really doesn't sit right with me, not just because it lends itself to some particularly uncharitable readings of Minfilia, but because it seems to me like a pretty inaccurate reading of what the Scions actually are in ARR.

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are the union of the Circle of Knowing, a group of activist academics who accurately predicted the apocalypse but failed to prevent it and lost their beloved mentor in the process, and the Path of the Twelve, a group for Echo-bearers to help them better understand and make use of their gift--all doing their best to pick up the pieces and protect the realm in the wake of said apocalypse. Minfilia, formerly the leader of the Path of the Twelve, has now been thrust into the position of leadership over both at the late Louisoix's behest. The Scions in ARR aren't a company, they're an activist group, and in ARR still a very small one without the massive web of political connections they fall into later. They don't have a lot of financial resources. They're largely working quietly and behind the scenes. They have a secret code phrase to identify friends of the organization. Being recruited into this group in ARR is closer to being recruited into a resistance cell than being interviewed for a formal job.

Minfilia's role prior to the Calamity was as the leader of a support group for people experiencing a frightening, isolating, and as-yet poorly-understood phenomenon, a group where they could find others like them, understand what's happening to them, and learn how to use their gift for good. And to some extent, this is still a part of her role. The Warrior of Light is brought in because they were witnessed experiencing the Echo, and Minfilia is reaching out to them as a fellow Echo-bearer. I think it's a mistake to interpret her words and actions without that context, particularly her expressed hope that this most recent Echo-bearer she's invited into her group will find something like family there. I mean, listen to the joy with which she says, "I too possess the Echo." She's telling the WoL that they're not alone, that there is a name and an explanation for what they've been experiencing, that they can find others like themselves here. Yes, she's also asking for their help. But this is a pretty far cry from a job interview. However flawed the Scions may be as an organization, I can only see Minfilia's overtures here as offered in the spirit of friendship and camaraderie. And framing that as her trying to build loyalty she can exploit in a corporate manner feels extremely ungenerous given what we know of her character.

I don't want to sound like I'm here to defend the Scions in ARR against any and all criticism--I've discussed my own in the past, from their concerning tendency toward self-sacrifice to the attitude they develop toward the WoL (which is kind of up for interpretation based on your character's relationship to them but which can come across as a cavalier attitude toward the WoL's safety, taking advantage of their unique abilities, etc). In particular, the Scions' experience as a small activist organization, and Minfilia's particular experience as Echo support group leader, has ill-prepared any of them to be thrust into an international spotlight following the defeat of the Ultima Weapon. The attack on the Waking Sands has already revealed the weaknesses in their opsec, and certain scenes in the ARR patch quests reveal something of a power struggle between Minfilia and Alphinaud--one which Alphinaud ultimately wins, because Minfilia lacks the kind of confidence in her position to stand against the force of his personality, and she, like most of the other Scions, starts to fall into the trap of seeing Alphinaud as the second coming of Louisoix and lets him push her around accordingly. Minfilia is simply not equipped or prepared to lead the kind of organization the Scions are turning into. (Urianger, incidentally is one of the few who seems to notice this and remark on it, but also seems to feel that he can't directly object.) The cracks begin to show, and then it all falls apart, and when the Scions finally begin to put themselves back together post-Heavensward, I think they all understand that they can't go back, that what they rebuild will be something new. Over the next few expacs I think we see them developing a new group identity, recognizing that that old model no longer serves them and doing their best to adapt to constantly changing circumstances.

The Scions in ARR have plenty of problems, but they're not a for-profit company and they're also not the same organization as the Scions of later expacs. I think that context needs to be taken into account when interpreting their actions, especially those of their leader.

[aroallo-corvid]

Aroallo is not an "adult" sexuality

[plain text: Aroallo is not an "adult" sexuality]

I am aromantic and allosexual. I am also (as of writing this) a minor. TLDR at the end because I rambled on a bit.

There's a view in society that sexuality and sex are topics that are entirely irrelevant to children and should not be discussed around/with children because it is inappropriate/predatory. And to an extent, there is a point to that, and any discussions of sex and sexuality should be age-appropriate (e.g. an eleven year old would not receive the same sex ed as a sixteen year old because there is a vast difference in experience)

However, thinking like this leads to teenagers not being given proper sex education because they are "too young", which is wildly ignorant of the fact that a decent proportion of teenagers older than sixteen are sexually active. I live in the UK where the age of consent is 16, and I know plenty of people who were in relationships aged 14/15 were having sex. (Whether they weer mature enough to is another matter, but it's important to acknowledge that it does happen so there is no point ignoring this).

This rhetoric also leads to the belief that teens (and younger kids) shouldn't be coming out as gay/lesbian/bisexual/asexual/aromantic/etc. because they are too young to be thinking about sexuality and sexual attractiveness, which just.... isn't true. Many young people have crushes, and as the majority of people are allosexual, this does often involve sexual attraction as people mature through puberty.

Within the queer community, people have said that it is perfectly fine and normal and common for teenagers to come out as gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual - Because if a teen can be straight, they can also be queer. These arguments are all set out beautifully and the points well made.

Yet.

Some people exclude aroallo people from that. They say that teens can be asexual, because they can know they aren't experience sexual attraction like their peers, and teens can be aromantic as well as asexual because they can realise they also aren't experiencing romantic attraction. But when a teenager says they are on the aromantic spectrum but still allosexual, often the same people who defend teens' rights to be (for example) bisexual turn around and say "you're too young for that".

Why?

Honestly, it comes down to sex-negative views that sex is inherently impure/disgusting, and of course children are the perfect example of purity and innocence, so they shouldn't be thinking about such "dirty" topics.

Of course a teenager can be asexual, that distances them from icky gross sex & means they would likely to be only engaging in chaste, pure, wonderful romance. Of course a teenager can be aroace, that makes them little cinnamon infantile babies, safe from all sexuality. (/sarcasm) (Also completely ignores the existence of sex-favourable aces and aroaces)

It comes off as very hypocritical though, because a teenager identifying as bisexual but not aromantic (so biromantic, but that distinction isn't typically made) is seen as acceptable, when they are expressing the same sexual desires as a teenager who is bisexual and aromantic. The only difference is that the first teenagers' sexuality is seen to be "balanced out" by the presence of nice wholesome romance.

tldr: if teenagers can identify as bisexual/gay/lesbian/pansexual/etc. whilst being alloromantic, it is hypocritical to say a teenager cannot identify as one of the above sexualities whilst being aromantic, because romance is not inherently more pure than sex and sex is not inherently impure.

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: newrelationship!jeonghan, very soft, afab reader, fluff, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1276

a/n: im in love with him if that wasnt clear already

masterlist

it had only been two weeks since jeonghan had finally made you his.

he had pined after you for a bit, not fully realizing the extent of his feelings for you until a month prior, when he decided he just had to have you and decided to act accordingly, sweeping you off your feet soon after.

you were the prettiest, most perfect thing he had ever had. your relationship was brand new, which made everything even sweeter. he couldn't get enough of you, or you of him.

today had been the first night you spent over at his place, having fallen asleep on his couch halfway through the movie without realizing. he didn't have the heart to wake you up, being too enamored by the sight of your adorable form curled up against the couch, folded like a ball due to the cold. upon realizing your state, he had covered you up with a blanket, allowing you some warmth while he left to prepare you a tea for whenever you woke up. when he came back a few minutes later, he found you disoriented, barely processing the time. it wasnt that late yet, but he still insisted you stay since you seemed so exhausted. after five minutes of jeonghan whining at you to stay, you agreed, also accepting the shirt and sweats he gave you to wear to sleep.

his intentions had been completely pure, only wanting to hold you through the night, guaranteeing himself the soundest sleep he had ever had. and he had been right, as he had never known comfort such as the one he found tangled with you under his covers.

waking up had also been an experience, falling for you all over again upon seeing the softness of your expression as you rested. he decided, once again, not to wake you and fell back asleep in your arms.

a few hours later, you woke up, not offering him the same courtesy and softly waking him up.

"hannie? hannie, wake up."

"hmm?", he was half asleep as he responded, but your soft voice had immediately sitting up, putting his attention on you.

suddenly, you weee very shy, halfway hiding under your blanket, "i stayed over ..."

"yeah, baby, i know," he chuckled, "we went through this, remember?"

"isnt it too soon?"

"hmm. no," he went to hold you in his arms, "been wanting to keep you to myself for a while now," he kissed at your cheek as he said this, drinking in your adorable giggles at his affection, "now come with me so we can make some breakfast, yeah?"

it was easy for you to agree with him, now getting up and heading to his kitchen, where he allowed you to take charge due to his less than favorable cooking skills, claiming he'd help you out and follow your every order. in usual jeonghan fashion, that had been a lie. the man was simply too affectionate for his (and your) own good, simply opting for hugging you from behind as you made some eggs to satiate the both of you.

his touches had been completely innocent in nature, only giving you a few pecks on your cheeks as he held onto you. he got a bit more daring soon after, however, now deciding to reach uncharted waters and begin leaving breathy kisses along your neck.

you seemed to not be in disagreement, even tilting your neck so he could have more room to kiss you. you couldnt help yourself in the soft moans you let out the moment he began to lick and suck at your neck. those pretty moans were all he needed to let his hands begin to wander across your torso, sneaking his hands under his your shirt as he rubbed them up and down your stomach, almost daring to touch your breasts before asking for confirmation as to whether or not it was okay for him to do so.

"can i, angel?"

"mhm ... anything you want, hannie ..."

"oh? anything?" he smirked against your neck, finding a spot that had you mewling at his touch before finally allowing his hands to find home on your breasts, not taking long to begin pinching at your nipples and feeling you up.

"uh-huh ..." unknowingly, you sensually pushed your ass back against him, making him moan out before beginning a slow grind against you, feeling gratification at your mutual humping.

"oh, baby ... my pretty girl. so sweet for me ..." he loved how soft and pliant you were; how just a few light touches had you losing all inhibitions and entertaining his want for you.

"can i have it, baby? will you let me take care of you?", he asked after a few moments of dry humping, realizing you were growing restless in his arms.

"hannie ... please ..." he didn't need further confirmation to turn you around in his arms, immediately going for your lips as he kissed you sensually, his tongue dancing with your as you moaned at the simple pleasure of his kiss.

he was now grinding against your front, making you whine against his lips, mewling his name in the softest gasps he had ever heard. you truly were the prettiest thing he had ever held in his arms. he wanted you more than anything. he only allowed himself the pleasure of your cries at the bare minimum of pleasure that dry humping was giving you for a few moments, soon opting to finally enter your warmth.

he asked you for permission before doing it, despite knowing you'd respond with enthusiastic consent. he just wanted to hear how badly you wanted him back. after a cry of 'yes. please, hannie!' that had his eyes rolling back at how precious you were, he finally plunged inside you, holding one of your legs up and wrapping it around his waist.

he ground against you in slow and calculated movements, immediately hitting at that spot that had you throwing your head back.

"my beautiful girl ... is that it? that's the spot, angel?", he didn't wait for a response, only ramming harder against you to elicit even louder moans out of you.

"h-hannie ..."

"i know, angel, i know. feels so good, huh? prettiest thing ... you take it so good, fuck. my gorgeous girl. wanted you for so long now. cant believe i have you," he adored the effect he had on you, groaning at the way you tightened around him every time he praised you or told you how into you he was.

"gonna cum for me, angel? gonna give it to me? yeah? wanna feel you, baby."

you didn't need any convincing to cum while in his arms, and neither did he, quickly pulling out to cum into the sink that had been right next to you, cringing at the thought of having to disinfect it, but having had to improvise in the moment.

"hannie, ew ... the sink?"

"yah! this is your fault! seducing me in the kitchen ..."

"me?! i was just making breakfast!"

"yeah! in my clothes? looking so pretty and fuckable? you knew what you were doing. it's okay, angel. i understand. i wouldve seduced you sooner or later anyways."

you rolled your eyes at his gremlin laugh, jokingly pushing him away when he approached you with dampened paper towels to clean you up a bit, then dragging your sweats back up.

"the eggs got burnt," you pouted at him, interrupting him from the kiss he was about to give you.

"angel, i dont care about some stupid eggs. let me kiss you, yeah?"

"oka– "

he hummed against your lips, enjoying the sweetness of your kiss. he could totally see himself enjoying this every morning from now on.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest). 

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even! 

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.” 

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia’s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up. 

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[cherryxbooo]

Tim Bradford x younger reader. Reader is in university and lived next to the Bradfords her entire life. She was there for him when Isabel ran away.

You make everything better

Summary: You never expected to be the one there for Tim when his first love ran away.

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst(ish)

The Bradfords had always been part of the background of my life.

Their house was right next door, the kind of place that never felt imposing, yet it was one of those houses you couldn’t help but notice.

Big but not overwhelming. Quiet but never completely still.

I didn’t pay much attention to them growing up, not really.

Tim was just the cop next door, and Isabel, his wife, was always the one you’d see bringing in groceries or tending to the flowers.

They were a picture of normalcy, or at least, that’s what it seemed like from the outside.

I always had a vague sense that Tim was someone different, though.

He was a cop, after all, and while I didn’t know the details, I could tell that job had a way of changing people.

The long hours, the emotional weight of it all, it was clear that Tim carried it around, even if he didn’t talk about it.

He wasn’t the kind of person who shared much.

In a way, that silence became part of him.

But he had Isabel. She was the lightness to his quiet, his grounding.

Or so I thought.

I didn’t hear from them much, but I noticed when Isabel started to pull away.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

Little things, like how she’d come home late from work more often, or how Tim’s shifts seemed longer, somehow.

But then one day, I noticed that the porch light, which had always been left on late into the evening, was off.

I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t even realize the full extent of it until the whispers began.

I didn’t know much about their life. All I knew was that Isabel left. People talked.

They said Isabel had gotten caught up in something, something to do with drugs, maybe, and that Tim was too wrapped up in his work to see the signs.

And then, one morning, she was gone. Vanished.

And Tim? Tim was still there.

I didn’t know what to do. We’d always been neighbors, nothing more.

I’d never had a real conversation with him, beyond pleasantries when we bumped into each other in the yard or when I’d wave from across the street.

But as I watched him from my window one afternoon, sitting on the porch in complete silence, I felt like I had to do something.

So, I did what anyone would do, I grabbed a plate of cookies, the kind my mom always made when someone needed comforting, and walked over.

The air had grown cooler with the fall, and the leaves crunched beneath my feet as I approached his house.

The familiar smell of wood and earth drifted over from the yard, but there was a heaviness in the air that made the whole place feel different.

When I knocked on the door, Tim answered, and for a moment, I couldn’t recognize him.

The man I had always seen with his dark hair neatly combed and his uniform pressed was now wearing a faded shirt and a tired expression.

His eyes, though, his eyes were what caught me off guard.

They were dull. Tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days. Or weeks.

"Hey, Tim," I said, unsure if I was doing the right thing.

"I made some cookies. Thought you might want some."

His gaze softened, but there was still a trace of wariness in him.

He glanced at the plate of cookies, then back at me, his mouth pulling into a small, tight smile.

"Thanks," he said, his voice rough as if he hadn’t spoken much recently.

"Can I...?" I hesitated, glancing at the porch. "Can I sit with you for a bit?"

Tim nodded, stepping aside so I could enter. The house was quiet, unnaturally so.

There was something unsettling about the emptiness.

I followed him outside, where we sat on the porch swing, the sound of the chain creaking softly in the air.

We didn’t speak at first. Neither of us did.

There was nothing to say that could make things better.

I looked over at him, and it struck me how much older he seemed. There were deep lines around his eyes now, shadows under them, as if all the sleepless nights were etched into his skin.

The air between us hung heavy, but I didn’t want to force anything. Not with Tim.

I didn’t know what he needed.

But eventually, he spoke.

"You must have probably heard it.," he said quietly, as though it was hard for him to even admit it out loud.

"People around here like to run their mouth a lot, but it's true. She left."

I wasn’t surprised, but I was still caught off guard by the way he said it, like the words were foreign to him.

I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort him, but I didn’t need to speak.

Tim wasn’t someone who needed a lot of words.

"I thought we were solid," he continued, almost to himself.

"I thought... I thought everything was fine." His fingers tightened around the edge of the swing, his knuckles going white.

I had heard rumors.

Whispers about Isabel’s drug use, about how things had started to spiral out of control, but I hadn’t known any of the details.

And now, as Tim spoke, I realized that none of that mattered.

The details didn’t matter.

It was the fact that everything he thought he knew about his life had been turned upside down.

Tim’s job had always been his first priority.

It had to be.

But in the end, it had taken more from him than just time, it had taken his connection with Isabel.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I couldn’t offer solutions or quick fixes, but I could be here.

So, I just nodded, offering a small, sympathetic smile.

"I’m really sorry, Tim," I said softly. "You didn’t deserve that."

He let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as he finally looked over at me.

"I didn’t see it coming," he said, his voice coming out low.

"I didn’t see her slipping away. I was too focused on... everything else. On work. I couldn’t even see what was happening in my own home."

I couldn’t imagine the guilt he must have felt.

But all I could do was sit there and listen, let him talk if he needed to.

"You don’t have to have all the answers right now," I said after a moment.

"You’re allowed to be... lost. It’s okay not to know what comes next."

Tim gave a short, almost humorless laugh, and for a brief moment, he seemed like the Tim I had always known.

The one who was steady, even in his uncertainty. "I guess I am lost," he said, shaking his head.

"I just... don’t know where to go from here."

I didn’t have any grand advice, didn’t have any perfect words to make it better.

But I could tell him this:

"You don’t have to figure it all out at once. You can take your time."

There was a quiet pause. Then, Tim looked at me, his face softening just a little.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"I don’t know what I’m doing, but... maybe you’re right."

We sat there in silence, watching the sky darken, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us.

Tim didn’t have to say anything else.

I didn’t either.

Sometimes, just being there was all that mattered.

And so, that’s what I did. I was there.

I didn’t have the answers for him, but I could offer him this small moment of peace, even if only for a little while.

It wasn’t much, but in that silence, it was enough.

Days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months and as the time passed, I found myself at Tim’s house more often than I’d initially planned.

The reasons varied, of course.

Some days, it was just to check in on him, to make sure he was eating or getting enough rest.

Other days, I brought food, sometimes it was simple takeout from a nearby café, or sandwiches I made between classes, nothing fancy but enough to share.

But more often than not, I came just to be there.

To fill the empty spaces that seemed to surround him, whether that meant sitting in silence or trying to spark a conversation when I could see the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.

Each visit felt like a quiet reassurance, for both of us. For him, because I was giving him the time and space he needed, without expecting anything in return.

And for me, because with every passing moment, I could feel the walls he’d built around himself begin to crack just a little bit more.

It wasn’t that I was expecting some grand breakthrough, but it was the small things, the subtle changes, that mattered the most.

He didn’t ask for much, but somehow, I could tell that just having me there made things a little easier.

We didn’t always talk. In fact, there were times when the silence between us was thick, heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Sometimes, it was like we didn’t need words. Like just being in each other’s presence was enough to offer some comfort, some small piece of healing.

I could see the way he’d look at me out of the corner of his eye when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, those fleeting glances that spoke volumes.

He’d never say it out loud, but I knew he was starting to rely on me, even if just a little bit.

There were nights when we sat outside on the porch swing, the world going on around us, but we were there in our own little bubble.

I’d bring over sandwiches, and we’d eat in silence, the rhythmic creak of the swing the only sound between us.

I’d never been one for forced conversation, and Tim was always a man of few words.

But those nights, with the sun setting low in the sky, everything just felt... peaceful.

Like nothing needed to be said for it to be understood.

One evening, I arrived a little later than usual since I had back-to-back classes.

The streetlights were already flickering on, casting long shadows across the yard.

I had grabbed some sandwiches from the café I passed on my way to his place, still warm from the grill.

As I knocked on the door, the usual stillness inside his house greeted me, and Tim opened it almost immediately.

When he saw the bag in my hands, his expression softened for just a moment, a slight but noticeable change from his usual tiredness.

"Another day, huh?" I said with a small smile, holding out the bag of sandwiches to him.

He glanced down at the bag, then back at me, his tired eyes betraying a hint of something deeper.

He hesitated before accepting it, like he wasn’t sure whether he should let me in again.

His lips parted, and I caught a small flash of guilt or perhaps embarrassment before he spoke.

“You didn’t have to,” he muttered, looking at the bag in his hands.

It was the same phrase he had used before, but this time, it sounded different, less dismissive and more... unsure.

I stepped past him into the house, not even bothering to wait for him to fully open the door.

“I know I don’t have to,” I said, brushing past him with a teasing grin.

“But I want to. Besides, someone’s got to make sure you’re eating, right?”

I noticed the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

Tim didn’t laugh much these days, and that was something I’d come to accept.

But there was something else in the way he watched me as I set the sandwiches on the coffee table.

It wasn’t the tired, distant look he had when I first started coming by.

This was different, there was something in his gaze that made me pause, something that said he was beginning to see me again, not just as the person who brought food, but as the person who had been there for him.

The person who wasn’t going anywhere.

“You know,” he said quietly after a beat, his voice almost hesitant,

“I never really asked for any of this. I never asked for someone to keep showing up like this. But... I don’t know, Y/n. I guess I’m kind of glad you do.”

He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to explain himself.

I felt my heart give a little lurch at his words.

I could see how hard it was for him to open up, how uncomfortable he was letting anyone in, especially after everything that had happened.

But I was here. I had been here all along, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

“You don’t have to say anything, Tim,” I said softly, sitting down beside him on the couch.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m not here because I feel obligated. I’m here because I want to be. And because... you’re my friend and neighbour. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

He turned to look at me, his expression unreadable.

But there was something in the way he held my gaze, something that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to trust me again.

Not completely, not yet, but he was letting his guard down just enough to see that I wasn’t going to walk away.

“I don’t know what to say to you sometimes,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself.

“I feel like I’ve messed everything up... with Isabel, with everything. And... I don’t know how to make it right.”

I watched him for a moment, the vulnerability in his words making my heart ache.

He had never been one to show weakness, not to anyone. But in that moment, I could see the cracks in his armor.

It wasn’t easy for him to admit how much he was hurting, but I could feel the weight of it, the guilt he carried from everything that had happened.

“Tim, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” I said, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“You don’t need to fix everything all at once. You just need to take it one step at a time. And I’ll be here for all of it. Okay?”

He didn’t reply immediately, but I could feel the tension slowly draining from his body as he leaned back into the couch, his gaze unfocused, lost in his thoughts.

I stayed quiet, letting him process everything in his own time.

After a few moments, Tim sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly as he relaxed into the couch.

“You’ve been showing up a lot lately,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to figure out what this all meant.

“And I can’t tell if it’s because you feel bad for me or because you actually want to be around me.”

I turned to him, my eyes soft.

“I’m here because I want to be. Because I care. And because... I know you. Tim Bradford, who’s always been too stubborn to let anyone in, and yet here I am, sitting on your couch, talking about feelings like we’re some emotional soap opera. You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

He gave a small, reluctant chuckle at my teasing tone, his lips curving upward just slightly.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” I said with a grin, “here you are.”

We fell into a comfortable silence again, the kind that didn’t feel forced, the kind where two people didn’t need words to fill the empty spaces.

There was something unspoken between us, something that told me that whatever had happened before, we were on the right path.

Tim wasn’t healed, he wasn’t perfect, but I could see the shift, the subtle change in him.

The walls weren’t down yet, but they were starting to crumble. And I was right here, standing by, waiting for him to let me in completely when he was ready.

It wasn’t going to be easy.It wasn’t going to be quick. But it didn’t matter.

We had time.

It didn’t take long for others to start noticing too.

One afternoon, I decided to stop by the station to bring Tim lunch.

I figured since my classes were done early, why not get something for Tim?

He was buried in paperwork, as usual, but I didn’t mind waiting for him to finish his shift.

I didn't bother letting him know I was here since I knew sooner or later he would take his lunch break anyways.

I found myself seated in the break room, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, trying to keep my mind occupied as the day dragged on.

As I settled into a chair, I couldn’t help but notice how different the atmosphere felt.

The usual hum of chatter was punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or complaints about long shifts, but today there was something more, something that seemed to linger in the air.

It wasn’t just the usual noise; it was the weight of unspoken things.

Things I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I felt them pressing in from all sides.

I was trying not to overthink it, but I had a sinking feeling in my gut.

A few minutes passed before the door to the break room opened, and Lucy, walked in.

She glanced around the room and her eyes immediately landed on me, a teasing smile spreading across her face.

"Well, well, look who it is," she said, her tone light but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

"You and Tim are spending a lot of time together these days, huh?"

I froze for a second, caught off guard. I hadn’t thought much of it before, but now, under Lucy’s sharp gaze, I realized how conspicuous my visits had become.

It wasn’t like I was hiding anything, it was just... complicated.

I cleared my throat, trying to act natural, though it felt impossible under her intense scrutiny.

"I’ve known Tim forever," I said quickly, offering a weak smile.

"We’re just—uh—friends. I’m just helping him out while he’s dealing with everything." I shrugged, hoping the explanation would sound casual enough.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, her smile widening as she looked at me.

"Uh-huh. Sure," she said, her tone dripping with amusement, though there was an underlying curiosity that made me uncomfortable.

"You sure it’s just that?"

I laughed awkwardly, not sure how to respond.

"Yeah, it’s nothing like that," I said, forcing a more confident tone.

"Just... making sure he’s okay."

Lucy didn’t seem entirely satisfied with my response, but before she could say anything else, Angela walked in, her presence soft but steady, as always.

She gave me a brief, knowing glance, then made her way to the coffee machine.

She took a slow sip of her coffee, then glanced at me, her expression casual but thoughtful.

"Everything okay with you and Tim?" she asked, her voice carrying that undertone of concern that I was getting to know so well.

I shrugged, trying to keep things light.

"Yeah, just trying to be there for him. You know how it is."

Angela gave me a small, understanding smile. "Uh-huh," she said, her voice warm.

"Well, he could really use someone like you right now. He’s been through a lot."

There was a certain empathy in her voice, a softness that made it clear she wasn’t just speaking out of curiosity but out of genuine care.

I nodded, though my throat tightened slightly.

"I know," I said quietly. "I’m just... I’m not going anywhere."

Angela studied me for a moment, her gaze steady. "Good. Because he needs you more than you realize."

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply nodded, grateful for her understanding but also feeling that tug in my chest.

He needed me?

The words sounded so simple, but I knew they carried more weight than either of us could truly express.

I wasn’t sure if I was the right person for him, but at least I knew I wasn’t going to turn my back.

Just then, Tim walked into the break room, his tired eyes immediately locking onto me.

The usual exhaustion seemed heavier in his steps, but when he saw me, his face softened, the corners of his lips turning up in a faint smile.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice rough from the long day.

"Hey," I replied, standing up to hand him the bag of lunch I had brought.

Tim’s eyes flickered over the bag before meeting mine, and for a moment, there was a hesitation in the way he looked at me, like he was unsure whether to accept it or not.

But then he sighed, a weary but grateful exhale, and took the bag.

"You didn’t have to, but... thanks."

I watched as he sat down at one of the nearby tables, unpacking the lunch while I leaned against the counter, my heart quietly thudding in my chest.

Angela, who had been standing by the coffee machine, exchanged a glance with Lucy, her smile now knowing.

Lucy, still leaning against the doorway, gave a small smirk before turning her attention back to Tim.

"So, you finally caved, huh?" she teased, nodding toward the food.

"She’s got you eating lunch now."

Tim rolled his eyes, but there was a soft chuckle beneath the exasperation.

"It’s not like I have much of a choice," he said, still looking at the sandwich like it was some sort of rare treasure.

He glanced up at Lucy.

"Besides, I’m not complaining. I’m just not used to people looking out for me like this."

There was a vulnerability in his voice that I don’t think he meant to show, but it was there, in the quiet undertone, the subtle shift in the way he spoke.

I knew Tim wasn’t the kind of guy to ask for help.

He was the one who fixed problems, not the one who leaned on others.

But somehow, with me, it felt like he was starting to let go of that.

Angela watched the exchange closely, and then, as if sensing the shift in the air, she turned to Lucy.

"You know, Tim’s been through a lot recently," she said quietly, but loud enough for Tim to hear.

"He’s lucky to have someone like Y/n looking out for him."

Tim’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something, embarrassment, maybe, crossing his face.

He didn’t want to acknowledge what was happening between us, and I could tell he didn’t want to make it into anything more than it already was.

But the way Angela spoke, the way Lucy subtly nodded her head, it felt like the room was starting to see something I hadn’t even fully acknowledged myself.

Tim cleared his throat, looking between the two of them.

"Can we not do this?" he muttered, his usual gruff tone returning.

Lucy just grinned. "We’re just saying, Tim. You’ve got someone good by your side."

He shot her a glare, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, picking up his sandwich.

"Now, let me eat in peace."

I couldn’t help but chuckle at how Tim was, even when the attention was on him.

He was the kind of guy who liked to keep things quiet, low-key, but deep down, he had a heart bigger than anyone could guess.

I’d seen it in the little moments.

In the subtle ways he would smile when he thought no one was looking, the quiet gratitude he’d show when I checked in on him.

But what nobody else saw, what no one else truly understood, was that he wasn’t just letting me help him.

He was starting to let me in.

And that, in itself, was something I’d never taken for granted.

Months went by, each day gently nudging Tim closer to healing.

It wasn’t immediate or obvious, but I could see the small shifts in his demeanor.

The subtle way he would offer a half-smile when I arrived at his door, the ease with which he would share a quiet moment with me on the porch swing.

Slowly, he started to settle into the routine of his life again.

Work at the station, though demanding, seemed to bring some comfort to him, and I often found myself bringing him lunch or joining him for a coffee break, simply to be there, without expectations.

One evening, nearly a year after Isabel left, I found myself sitting with Tim on his porch again.

The night was unusually quiet, the world around us seeming to pause in a peaceful stillness.

The trees swayed gently, and the air smelled like summer, warm and comforting.

Tim had wrapped up his shift earlier than usual, and we found ourselves sitting together, the familiar rhythm of the evening comforting and unhurried.

I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He was staring out at the stars, but I could see the subtle tension in his shoulders.

The way he exhaled a little too deeply, as though he was letting go of something that had been weighing on him.

It was a feeling I had grown used to, the heaviness he carried.

But tonight, it felt like something was different.

The night air was cool, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves above us, and I could feel the calmness settle into my bones.

Everything was quiet, except for the soft rhythm of our breathing and the occasional sound of crickets in the distance.

I turned my head slightly, stealing a glance at Tim.

He was sitting so close, his presence so palpable, but he still had that same tired, thoughtful look in his eyes that I had come to recognize over the past few months.

But now, there was something softer in him, a quiet strength, a peace that hadn’t been there before.

For a moment, I simply let my fingers brush against his, the simple touch lingering in the air between us.

The connection was natural, easy. It wasn’t the first time our hands had brushed like this, but tonight, it felt different.

There was an unspoken understanding between us now, something we hadn’t put into words yet, but that felt like it was always there.

I felt the warmth of his hand against mine, the solidness of it, and it made me realize just how much he had come to mean to me.

Tim looked at me then, his eyes meeting mine with that softness I hadn’t seen before.

It was like he was letting down the last of his walls, the final pieces of the armor he had put up after everything with Isabel.

I could feel the weight of it, the healing that had happened, the painful journey he had been on, and I was there, right beside him, supporting him, but also, silently sharing in his transformation.

"I don’t think I ever really understood what it meant to have someone by your side until now," Tim said, his voice soft but heavy with emotion.

He spoke with such raw honesty that it made my chest tighten.

"I think I’ve always been so used to carrying things alone... But you, you’ve made it easier, without even trying."

I squeezed his hand a little, my heart aching with all the things he hadn’t said out loud but that I could hear in his tone.

"I’m just here for you, Tim," I whispered. "I always will be."

There was a long silence, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was full of understanding, full of all the emotions we had shared over the past year.

Tim shifted closer, the space between us becoming just a little smaller, but it wasn’t rushed.

It was like we were both giving ourselves permission to feel this moment, to let it settle in without trying to force anything.

He leaned his head back slightly, his gaze shifting to the stars above us.

The night was clear, and I followed his line of sight, watching the stars twinkle in the vast expanse of sky.

The quiet was soothing, almost as if the universe was holding its breath for us.

"I didn’t know how much I needed this," Tim murmured after a while, his voice barely louder than the breeze.

"You’ve always been here, always had my back. I never really appreciated it until recently."

I turned toward him, my heart swelling with something I couldn’t quite put into words.

"You don’t have to say anything, Tim," I said softly.

"I’m just glad I’m here, that we’re here."

He met my gaze again, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t just about the past or the hurt he had carried.

There was something new, something tender, something hopeful.

It was like he was letting go of all the things that had weighed him down and opening himself up to what was right in front of him.

"I think… I think I’ve been afraid of letting go for so long," he said, his voice catching slightly.

"Afraid of trusting again, of letting myself care for someone like this. But with you, it’s different. You make me feel like I’m not broken anymore."

My breath hitched, the vulnerability in his words piercing right through me.

I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I reached out, my fingers gently brushing his cheek.

The warmth of his skin beneath my touch made my heart race, and the moment felt so real, so tangible, that it made everything else seem distant.

He looked at me, his eyes holding mine with a quiet intensity.

And then, without another word, Tim leaned in just a little, his breath mingling with mine.

There was no grand gesture, no big confession.

It was just two people, sharing something that had been building for so long.

Something that had been quietly simmering in the background but was now ready to come to the surface.

The kiss came slowly, naturally. Tim’s lips were soft against mine, hesitant at first, like he was testing the waters, unsure of what this all meant.

But as the seconds passed, the kiss deepened, became more certain. His hand moved to my waist, pulling me closer, and I responded, letting myself get lost in the warmth of the moment.

There were no more walls between us, no more hesitation.

It was just us, in that fleeting moment where everything felt right.

When we pulled away, our foreheads rested together, both of us breathing a little heavier, but neither of us moving away.

Tim smiled softly, his thumb brushing across my hand in the gentlest of gestures, and there was a quiet kind of joy in the way he looked at me.

"You make everything better," Tim murmured, his voice low and full of tenderness.

I smiled, my heart swelling with the truth of his words.

"You do the same for me."

And just like that, in the quiet of the night, everything had changed.

The air between us was no longer filled with uncertainty or unspoken words.

It was filled with the promise of something new, something worth exploring.

Tim looked at me one more time, his smile wide, and without hesitation, he kissed me again, deeper this time, like he had found the peace he had been searching for all along.

I closed my eyes, letting myself be wrapped up in the moment, in him, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

As we pulled away, I laughed softly, feeling lighter than I had in a long time.

"You’re not so bad, you know?" I teased, my voice playful.

Tim grinned, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes.

"I could say the same about you."

I leaned back a little, still grinning.

"You know, this whole ‘finding peace’ thing is great and all, but I still have a paper due tomorrow. So… no more distractions from you, okay?"

Tim chuckled, his fingers brushing against mine as he leaned in once more.

"I think you might be the only person who could make me feel guilty about a kiss. But I guess I can’t argue with a paper deadline."

I rolled my eyes, laughing.

"Good. Because I’m already regretting not studying before I decided to spend all my time with you."

Tim smirked. "Well, I’ll make it up to you by making sure you get an A on that paper. I can be pretty persuasive."

"Only if you promise not to distract me more," I shot back with a wink.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "No promises."

And just like that, the world felt right again.

In that moment, with the stars above us and the quiet of the world around us, I knew everything was finally falling into place.

The end

[freshxsturniolo]

im sorry - chris sturniolo x femreader

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

warnings : angst, arguing, fluff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"have they not text?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“be there for chris”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"no. no im not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"baby" he says. and you snap.

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

chris' eyes widen when he sees you.

"fuck. baby -"

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

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

"please don't-"

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

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

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

"no but-"

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

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

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

"please, listen to me" he chokes.

"i dont-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i dont know, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i know" chris admits.

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

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

"its okay." you say now.

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

"yes. and you me?"

he laughs. "yes."

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

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

you heart jumps. "that so?"

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

"when?"

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

you smile, a sense of relief washing over you.

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

he chuckles, pressing his lips against yours.

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

"im celebrating."

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

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