#i try to describe this relationship and put it into words that make sense but all i get is brain static.

[katyspersonal]

I had a quite interesting Bloodborne-related dream tonight (again)

I found Kos somewhere in the woods after wading though a lot. She was on sort of a shore, but not right there, water source was far enough for there to be grass and some bushes where she was. She looked a bit smaller than her normal size, was darker but more saturated shade of blue and had some... stars speckled pattern in her body? I still question if that was relevant to 'Stars' and cosmos, or some marine creature bioluminescence. She was crying...

I kept trying to comfort her or help her, but every time she was pushing me away in unusual way... by turning me into a different life form every time. :') And every time the "incarnation" would immobilize me and I'd 'restart' where I came from, like in a videogame. First time it was horse, second time it was some broccoli/cabbage (makes sense since Milkweed rune is likely voice of Kos), third time some marine creature that's a mix of a shrimp and a snail. Like nautilus maybe? All forms were saturated blue and speckled with shiny 'stars' too. That had a very strong 'leave me alone!' vibe to it - like you know, when person doesn't want to be seen crying or helpless.

But even more interesting thing - there was a grave digged next to her, with some boards. It was too small for her, but enough for humans. And several did fall into it as I've seen ._." That grave was practically hypnotizing people to jump into it and perish. Kind of the 'it's my hole, it was made for me!' deal? I swear one of victims of this trance was Adella.

This made me think of Micolash. Who else knows all about human sacrifices and loves Kos a lot? I could swear, the context was him ensuring a trap next to her, to convert human sacrifices in prolonging her life - she was at the brink of death, marine creature on the land is doomed. Not to mention what happened with her physical body... Kos doesn't want it and doesn't like it, she personally would rather die with dignity. It is one thing to create a Hell for hunters, but indulging in sacrifices is something Flora and Amygdalas do!

But Micolash is the type to do what will help someone he loves - even if this means doing something they won't approve of. Even it means they will hate him and curse him forever... This honestly felt so bittersweet. She did not even feel like that huge important godly mother figure - rather like a close soulmate of Micolash from another world, that now resents (if not "hates") him but he is ready to take the blow if it means she lives and gets better ;-;

Also, horse transformation perplexed me, because it seemed off, considering "cabbage" and marine animals made sense. I now start to grasp for ideas whether Ludwig's unique transformation indirectly had to do with her? I am saying crazy shit like how maybe he was helping with the massacre and ate heart of OoK or something, maybe not exactly but along these lines.

This just left me a lot to think about, and a lot of emotions. My brain just gives me free illustrated fanfics at this rate. Also I think I ship Micolash and Kos now, haha;

#personal #(not really but it was dream and not personal headcanons so...) #dreams #fandomry rambles #i cannot put into words how bittersweet relationship between mico and kos felt from that dream #soulmates is the best i can describe it #he loves her enough to do thing she will hate him for just to mend her wounds #incidious or noble but every great one benefits from sacrifices... #also this ship has very natural name clashing. kosmicolash ahaha. #because some DO also say kosm hfjjhggg #adella though..... ;-; rest in peace miss diet alfred #i try to make sense of horse thing yeah?? trying very hard to not think about 'MAN' joke fghdhhk #but horse is an archetype animal so maybe i should not focus on context directly #clerics look like vendigo but yeah i should research meaning of horses in the whole 'deep' symbols #i am all for making ludwig more morbid than meets the eye tho #especially since in my headcanon flora is enemy to kos sort of. and Ludwig unwittingly follows floras plans

[wileys-russo]

put a ring on it II l.williamson x reader

lil LW6 fic based on this request put a ring on it II l.williamson x reader

"here she is!" you sung out as you launched yourself onto your friends back, alessia stumbling slightly but finding her footing with a laugh. "player of the match! player of the match!" you continued to cheer as alessia hoisted you up properly carrying you round on her back as you did your laps.

"the penalty was perfect less, see i told you they weren't cursed!" you grinned, pulling her into a tight hug as she placed you back down on your feet. "doesn't mean i'll be putting my hand up to take anymore!" the blonde shook her head, though neither of you were unable to keep the smile off her face with a 4-1 win over chelsea.

"i see now why the two of you are so perfect for each other." the taller girl laughed as you both clapped and waved to the fans, nodding toward your girlfriend who was getting a piggyback of her own off manu.

"leah's got an excuse though you're just lazy!" alessia teased, often having you demanding she piggyback you around on national duty and now you played for the same club team.

"you're one to talk! who carries all the bags when we go shopping?" you laughed shoving her, waving at a small group of girls who called out your name. "who buys the most and therefore has the most bags to carry!" the blonde countered bumping her shoulder into yours.

"thats definitely you babe, because its me who carries all the bag when we go shopping!" suddenly your girlfriend appeared, wedging her way in between the two of you with her arms slung over both yours and alessia's shoulders.

"i earn and spend my money the way i want, why all this hate!" you tutted with a playful roll of your eyes, the three of you falling into conversation as you continued on your lap round the emirates.

"heard you've got some competition for your girls hand leah!" kyra zoomed past with a cheeky grin, leah frowning in confusion but unable to ask for any further context as kyra sprinted off chased by vic.

"i didn't know your relationship was open williamson. can i have a crack?" katie was next, playfully kissing your cheek with a wink as now both you and leah looked on in confusion.

your relationship with leah could be described as private but not secret. for years now you'd posted pictures with and of one another, but paid no mind to the spamming of comments asking if you were together.

you lost no sleep to the rumours of what you two were and made no move to placate or deny them, rather just happily existing together and focusing your energy on your relationship rather than what people thought about it or assumed it to be.

however it was most certainly not open.

"what the hell is everyone on about?" leah huffed, annoyance replacing confusion as you squeezed her bicep to try and gain her attention seeing she was becoming upset. "um, i might have an idea." alessia chuckled beside you, clearly trying to cover up her amusement but failing miserably.

nudging the two of you she tried to subtly point something out in the crowd, and it didn't take very long for leah to follow along. "oh you are taking the piss mate." came the scoff and grumble as you tried to catch on, alessia rolling her eyes and moving your head so you finally spotted it.

"ohh." you sighed in realisation, your girlfriends mumblings beside you and closed off body language now making a lot more sense. "do they think thats going to work?" you laughed, which was cleary the wrong thing to say as leah scoffed again and stormed off before you could say another word.

"will you be saying i do then?" you grunted as the tables turned and kyra reappeared, jumping onto your back and wrapping her legs around your waist, vic and teyah not far behind her.

the teasing in question was all due to a large sign reading 'marry me y/n?' held up by a grinning girl who definitely looked too young for you whose eye contact you avoided as you turned away from the sign.

"someone will be sleeping with the dogs tonight!" vic roared with laughter as leah shot you a look over her shoulder and followed into the tunnel after beth.

"i didn't even do anything! this is all of your faults for pointing out that stupid sign and winding her up." you huffed and promptly dropped kyra, who swore after you as teyah helped her up and you hurried off toward where your girlfriend had dissapeared.

though before you could go after her there was a small group of fans calling your name and you diverted, spending a little while alongside laia and alessia signing and chatting things before finally breaking away and heading inside.

returning to the change rooms everyone seemed to be in good spirits and celebrations were in full swing. music was pumping and you couldn't help but laugh at some of your friends and team mates dance moves which were more than questionable.

"having fun wally?" you grinned at the poor swiss woman who was desperately trying to count heads for how many people to include in a dinner booking at one of the teams favorite pubs later tonight, with very little success.

"lee and i will be there." you laughed at her pleading eyes, kissing her cheek and searching the room for the blonde in question. "hey have you seen leah?" you asked beth who finally sat down to take her boots off and stopped singing (yelling) for five seconds at vivs pleading.

"maybe that way somewhere." beth jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the rest of the team as you rolled your eyes. "yeah thanks beffy." you chuckled, quickly changing out of your socks and boots, a twenty minute warning given for the bus leaving you scrambled toward the showers just beating stina into the last free one.

knowing there was a line of inpatient girls waiting their turn who were only growing rowdier now someone had popped a bottle of champagne, you were fast with your shower and the way you changed into clean dry clothes in record time.

you'd think with the way the team was carrying on you'd all won the conti cup again though amusing as the celebrations were a frown was very much present on your face seeing leah was still nowhere to be seen.

you tried calling her as you grabbed your bag and filed out of the change rooms but huffed as it rang out and went to voicemail. "she's probably driving, she drove herself and laura right?" alessia tried to reassure you as your eyes roamed the carpark, leahs car nowhere in sight at all.

"yeah maybe." you mumbled, following the taller girl up and into the bus, loading your bags and settling into your seat. "ah ah no anti social behaviour we're celebrating!" you groaned as beth snatched your headphones from your hands, hanging them around her neck with a wink as jen ruffled your hair and steph smiled apologetically.

much as you did worry about leah a half hour later you couldn't help but laugh and try not to let your overthinking consume your mind too much as karaoke was in full swing and you'd almost arrived back to colney.

"macca please, give our ears a break!" alessia groaned playfully beside you, her head falling to your shoulder as the two of you plugged your ears and the older girl scoffed, making a point to saunter over closer and yell mr brightside even louder, vic belting it out from the other end of the bus.

you continued to check your phone, having still tried to call around to leah and sending her a few messages all of which had gone unanswered. "hey, get out of your head." alessia tapped at your forehead sensing the worried nervous energy pouring out of you.

"why would she be mad at you? you didn't make that sign, you didn't interact with the fan who made it, you didn't encourage anything." the girl rubbed your back comfortingly as she drew you in for a hug and the bus parked up, everyone hurrying off and agreeing to meet for dinner at seven sharp.

"text me yeah?" alessia encouraged as you nodded and sent her a grateful smile before slipping into your car and flicking through your playlists, needing the right sort of music to try and pull yourself from your thoughts as you drove home.

a small sense of relief flooded through you seeing leahs car was indeed in the driveway once you arrived, meaning at least she was home. quickly parking and shutting off your engine you grabbed your bag from the back and headed toward the front door.

though before you could even get a hand on the door it swung open taking you off guard, though the state of your girlfriend caught you even more so by surprise. "why are you-" you started, your girlfriend dressed up in a beige two piece suit with her hair done and light makeup apparent on her features.

"we're going out." leah announced, ushering you inside and grabbing your bag for you. "for dinner with the girls? i didn't think we were meeting until seven and we were just going to the local." you wandered in with a confused frown as leah shook her head.

"no, just you and i. i already called lia and let her know!" your girlfriend answered the question before you could even ask it. "but-" you started cut off by a shake of the blondes head.

"no more questions. our reservations at five and i already laid out something for you to wear. go change please darling!" leahs hands landed on your shoulders, turning and gently pushing you toward your shared bedroom. "you're being very weird williamson." you stated glancing at her over your shoulder as she waved you off and started to unpack your bag for you.

~

"come on babe it's nearly five!" leah groaned, still refusing to answer any of your questions as you finished doing your hair, nodding happily with the final product and grabbing your bag.

"hey thats not the bag i chose or the shoes!" leah huffed with a frown at your changes. "as sweet as it is that you wanted to dress me love, i get final say." you smiled pecking her lips and silencing any further protests.

"isn't it nearly five?" you reminded as she attempted to argue again, the blonde nodding and taking your hand, locking up after you and hurrying to open your door as you slid inside. "such a gentlewoman." you teased, the defender grinning and stealing a kiss before shutting your door and rushing around to her own side.

"will you tell me where we're going now?" you asked as leah pulled out of the driveway with a shake of her head, nodding for you to select some music. "you're an incredibly frustrating individual sometimes i leah catherine." you sighed but grabbed her phone none the less since it connected first.

"you still love me but." leah smirked teasingly, eyes focused on the road as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. "lee. why did you run off today?" you questioned after a comfortable silence had fallen between you, unable to ignore the topic any longer.

"i didn't, just had to drop laura home." leah shrugged it off as you gave up trying to work out where you were going as she turned the opposite way that you expected her to.

"right. only after we saw that silly sign you seemed-" you continuned softly, cut off as leah turned up the current song and started to loudly sing along, wordlessly sending the message she didn't want to answer.

dropping it for now not wanting to spoil the blondes seemingly improved mood before a meal together you sang along with her as she drove. "oh we've not been here before." you perked up as leah finally turned in and parked, not recognizing where you were.

"some of the girls recommended it awhile back, i think dean took steph here for their anniversary if my memory serves correct?" leah commented, parking up and clicking her tongue at you as you went to open your door.

"you really are something else." you smiled as she appeared in front of you swinging the door open. "i will open doors any day for you my pretty lady." leah bowed as you smacked her shoulder and the defender stood up straight with a grin, grabbing your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your interlocked fingers.

the two of you fell into step as another comfortable silence fell between you, the sun starting to set bathing you in a warm golden glow, the dark clouds from earlier today now long gone.

"williamson." leah spoke with a smile to the hostess at the front who nodded, grabbing two menus and leading the two of you through the resteraunt. "its beautiful in here lee." you squeezed your girlfriends hand with an awestruck smile at the interior.

floor to roof there were old stone pillars, painted to look washed out as plants hung from the tops and vines spiraled around them, gold edged finishing on the dark mid century wooden furniture.

"wait till you see outside." leah murmered, kissing your cheek with a smile as the two of you were lead outside, your eyes lighting up seeing a small fire pit. "here?" you asked as the waitress gestured for the two of you to take a seat, the semi circle bench with an in built table a little sunk into the ground creating a cosy but private atmosphere.

there was a live band playing on a small stage and the soft chatter from your fellow diners just added to the cosy atmosphere as you thanked the hostess and sat down, leah making sure you were comfortable before taking a seat herself.

"like it?" leah raised an eyebrow but curiously and a little nervously, the two of you were creatures of habit and seldom tried new places, rather preferring the guaranteed satisfaction of what you knew wouldn't disappoint you.

"it's perfect leah. but why?" you laughed quietly, leaning in to kiss her properly and pulling away, neither of you overly large fans of pda given your shared 'famous' status and the risk of prying eyes or phone cameras.

"do i now need a reason to take my beautiful wonderful gorgeous girlfriend out for a nice meal?" leah smiled charmingly, resting her chin on her hand. "mm no but its much less suspicious when you do have one." you retorted, knocking your knee against hers as someone arrived to take your order.

not even having glanced at the menu yet you both smiled apologetically and ordered drinks, busying yourselves deciding what to eat and ordering food once your drinks arrived.

"so this lovely spontaneous meal would have nothing to do with that sign today then would it love?" you asked with a quirk of your eyebrow, sipping on your drink as leah rolled her eyes.

"no it would not!" "you do realise i've known you for years now williamson and you are a terrible liar."

"alright maybe the sign had me a little tiny teeny weeny bit jealous. but mostly i realised we'd not had a proper date night in far too long!" she grinned at the last part of her answer, hoping you'd skip over the first bit.

"jealous i might marry a wee stranger with a sign were we? thats a bit rom com cliche for me my love." you chuckled as your girlfriend playfully smacked your leg and finished her drink, setting the empty glass down as within seconds it was whisked away by someone.

"dunno i bet if i turned up outside your window with a big speaker and confessed my undying love for you you'd be swooning quite hard darling." leah smiled, eyes ablaze with nothing but sheer adoration for you.

"that would have certainly been much more romantic." you teased, leahs cheeks flushing pink at the memory. "stop! i was young and nervous and....sweaty." the defender cringed, having practically cornered you in the showers sweating bullets with nerves and practically yelling at you to go on a date with her.

"now babe how did it go again?" you pondered as leah groaned and hid her face in her hands. "go on a date with me tomorrow!" you mocked her accent and hummed. "no that wasn't it." you stroked your chin thoughtfully as your girlfriend groaned louder and smacked your knee, hiding her face in her hands.

"date tomorrow me please really like you!" you again mocked her accent and nervous stutter with a wolfish grin as the blonde was saved any further embarrassment as your food arrived.

the two of you grew up together on the football pitch in your teen years, both growing quite close through the arsenal academy leah made her senior team debut just a season before you and you couldn't be prouder.

though the distance between you now as you stayed training with the b team meant she realised she wanted to be more than friends and harboured quite unfriendly feelings.

feelings she made the mistake of confessing to her new teammates who'd at first teased her relentlessly and then came the ongoing pushing to tell you how she felt.

leah finally cracked once you signed your own contract and were finally training by her side again, the teasing growing worse for a very clearly flustered leah, a side you weren't used to having known her to be occasionally over confident.

you'd chalked it down to nerves for the talks of her impending senior national team call up, everyone else chalked it up to her being disgustingly head over heels for you and surprisingly too scared to let you know.

this meant six agonisingly slow months passed where leah continued to be given shit for the pining looks sent your way when you weren't looking, until one day something snapped and she decided no more would she hide the truth away.

it may have coincidentally also been the day she heard rumours of you allegedly being dragged along speed dating later that night with some of the other older girls 'for a laugh'.

so swallowing every single doubt which screamed at her this was a terrible idea leah had tried time and time again that day to speak with you, but something or someone seemed to pop up and get in the way every time.

which had been what lead to the abrupt and incredibly awkward shower room incident, though really as much as leah was horrifically mortified you'd found it endearingly cute.

given you still teased her for it this day and the two of you had been dating for years and years now as leah got older the regret of how she'd gone about asking you out had begun to melt away.

"ready to go baby girl?" leah asked as your plates were cleared, the two of you practically now sitting on top of one another as you relished in the welcome warmth both from the fire pit and one anothers bodies.

"did you want one more drink?" you turned your head to question, quite comfortable in your current position. "nah, one of us has to be sober enough to drive home." leah teased, ducking her head to press her lips to yours, pulling away far sooner than you'd have liked as she squeezed your hips indicating you stand up.

making your way hand in hand through the restaurant, now both well fed and a tiny bit tipsy in your case you both cared less about the displays of affection, having been papped together many times over the years anyway but just never directly addressing anything.

thanking the hostess leah was quick to grab the door for you, your cheeks flushing bright red as she lightly patted your bum as she walked out after you, causing you to shoot her a playful glare over your shoulder.

the blonde was even quicker to pull off her suit jacket, draping it over your bare shoulders and silencing your protests that now she would be cold with several kisses, mumbling about how she was warming herself up with them causing you to laugh against her lips.

many sweet kisses and cheesy compliments exchanged during the walk back to the car you shrugged off leahs arm and darted to her door, pulling it open for her for once as she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"must be the jacket." you teased as she rolled her eyes but slid into the car, making a point to lean over the console to push open your own door for you anyway.

finally pulling into your driveway with a firm look from your girlfriend you waited patiently for her to make her own way to your door, gasping in mock surprise as she pulled it open and once again bowed.

"sap!" you teased shoving her as you grabbed her hand and stood, leah closing the door and locking her car up after you. "okay before we go inside." your girlfriend started halting you in your tracks by the front door, causing a suspicious frown to grow on your face.

"i need you to trust me please." the taller girl took your hands in hers with a gentle squeeze as you slowly nodded. "i do."

"okay good. now please put this on then, no questions." leah reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out a blindfold as you raised an eyebrow but begrudgingly did as she asked, flinching as her hands fell to your shoulders once you'd heard her unlock the front door.

"i got you." she chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and carefully guiding you inside, murmering when steps were coming or there was obstacles.

you heard the back door sliding open and felt your girlfriend carefully help you down the back steps as she asked you kick off your shoes and your feet sunk into the soft grass of the backyard.

eventually you felt yourself step onto something rougher causing your eyebrows to furrow curiously as leahs hands fell from your body and you heard some shuffling around but you knew there wasn't a point to you asking anything as she would just not answer.

"okay, you can take it off now love."

it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust once you'd pulled off the cloth blindfold but once they did your hand flew to your mouth and your body locked up, your reaction clearly amusing the blonde knelt down in front of you.

the roughness beneath you was a large aztec blanket, with two beanbags and cushions scattered all around as lanterns and fairy lights hung from the trees and on each corner of the blanket around you illuminating your backyard in a soft golden glow.

"leah..." you trailed off, shaking your head unable to find words as she sent you a soft smile and held up her hand to silence you.

"now you know why i was so pissed off with that stupid bloody sign today. i've had this planned out for weeks and of course the day i choose to do it, which i promise was long pre planned, some other randoms got a sign asking for your hand and making me look like some jealous numpty whose concocted a last minute proposal just to spite some teenage fangirl!" leah scoffed with a shake of her head making you let out a half laugh half sob as her features softened.

"you're such an idiot." you managed to get out making her grin and shuffle forward a little, reaching into her other trouser pocket as your heart rate accelerated even faster if that was humanely possible.

"jesus christ." you exhaled shakily as she pulled out a small velvet box and popped it open, the ring inside glinting back at you. "not my name love but i'll take it." leah grinned boyishly as you again let out a laugh, hand still covering your mouth in shock.

"my beautiful girl. i've loved you for as long as i've known you and though it took me a little bit to realise i think i might've been in love with you that entire time too." leah started as your knees felt like buckling.

"you are the most warm, caring, kind, attentive, empathetic, passionate and selfless person i've ever had the utter pleasure of having in my life let alone the absolute honor of calling my partner in life. you've always been the one whose better with words between us but i'm going to do my very best to remember all of-" as excitement shot through your body you couldn't help but interrupt.

"yes!" you cried out suddenly, taking leah off guard as she faltered mid speech and your face blushed bright red. "yes?" leah asked wide eyed as you nodded furiously. "yes, yes, yes, a million times yes." you laughed as another sob wracked your body.

the blonde was up and on her feet within seconds and hoisting you off the ground, spinning you around as tears of joy spilt over from her own eyes and you wasted no time smashing your lips to hers.

"i had a whole lovely long heartfelt speech planned out about how much i love and adore you dickhead. i've proposed to laura, lia and beth about three thousand times now for practice!" leah laughed against your lips as she carefully settled you back down on your feet and pressed her forehead to yours.

"save it for your vows?" you smiled guiltily, biting down on your bottom lip as leah let out a pelt of laughter, letting go of you to wipe away her tears before very gently wiping away your own with the pad of her thumb, tugging you into yet another kiss.

"wait! at least let me-" she pulled away and dropped down onto one knee again, carefully pulling out the ring and placing the box down by her side.

"may i please be your wife?" leah asked, eyes once more welling up with tears as you nodded and she grabbed your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger as you pulled her up to her feet.

"you know i also had this to get to, you really are so inpatient!" leah threw her head back with a laugh, stepping back and lifting one of the beanbags pulling out a bundle of red.

as she dropped it open you let out a laugh of your own, seeing it was an arsenal jersey with williamson on the back but with your own number, clearly an indicator of the future to come.

"mm mrs williamson has such a perfect ring to it my girl, i can't wait to be your wife." "i love you so so very much, fiance." "i bet that girl is gonna feel proper stupid now." "leah!" "what? she beat me to the punch but i got the final knockout." "you're forever and always the winner in my eyes baby."

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso community

[carigm]

DISCUSSION ABOUT EL’S POTENTIAL ENDING

So Millie has been giving a lot of interviews lately promoting her latest film Damsel, and ofc interviewers have been trying to get some ST5 info out of her. (We all saw that clip where Mlvn got mentioned to her and the face she made lol)

Well there are two new interviews in which Millie talks about El and they are making me kind of nervous…for lack of a better word.

The first is this one…

She was asked what song helps her cry, and she said “when it’s cold I’d like to die” Now that song famously plays every time a character dies on ST, so it wouldn’t be weird for an actor in the show to associate it with sentimental emotions. However, what concerns me a bit is that she mentions that this is “El’s theme” uh??? Since when girl??

The other interview I’ve already seen it floating around so I won’t add a clip, but she was basically asked about whether she knows how it ends for her character. She goes on to say that she asked for a meeting with the Duffers and she saw a board with her character’s fate and went “ohhhh” and slowly walked out.

I’m not gonna lie that answer is not inspiring happiness in me.

I don’t think the Duffers will “traditionally” kill El. In the sense that I don’t think they would fully kill her off (that would be too fucked up). I do wonder if her character will be around after Vecna has lost and the supernatural has gone away, though. Will she somehow disappear after the conflict is gone? Was she part of a bigger allegory or metaphor related to the supernatural plot of the show?

In the original pitch, the Duffers described El and Mike’s relationship as an Elliot and ET bond. ET is an alien, therefore at the end of the movie he has to leave Earth. He can’t stay there with the other characters. Are we gonna see something similar regarding El? She won’t die but maybe she has to go/be somewhere else?

I don’t want to alarm anyone it’s just that I feel like I’m putting some pieces together here lol…

The Duffers also admitted after S2 came out that El was originally written to “die”, as in she was gonna disappear when she took out the demogorgon. However, they changed their minds when the show got renewed for more seasons. Nonetheless, the Duffers have said that their ending for S5 draws inspiration from the ending of S1.

What the hell are they referring to with this???

I’m also aware that Millie is an actress and she’s drumming up suspense for the show. I know she has admitted to lying in interviews just for fun too. Can’t really trust an actor ever, but I do wonder if we’re seeing some truth from her here.

What do you guys think? Any theories?

#byler #byler theory #stranger things #st5 leaks #st5 spoilers #st5 speculation

[ddarker-dreams]

Idée Fixe.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Some not SFW elements, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, depictions of general & social anxiety disorder, depictions of a panic attack, mentions of anxiety medication, Chrollo administers medications to Reader without her consent, and mentions of religion. Also Chrollo just really, really sucks. Word count: 12.3k.

You met a strange man at the arboretum today.

Perhaps you aren’t in a position to describe others as ‘strange’, considering your latest proclivity for expressing earnest thanks to any honey bees you happen across for their service. After much contemplation, however, it’s ultimately the word you arrive at. ‘Strange’ not in a disconcerting sense that inspires fear, but just being out of the ordinary enough to exude an undeniable allure. A raised panel on the floor you stumble over yet suffer no serious injury from. 

Well-kept gardens might be the closest imitation to heaven on earth. That’s what brought you to this little oasis hidden in the desert that is urban life. It’s the type of day romanticists wax poetic about: baby blue skies, puffy clouds, and moderate temperatures with a light, forgiving breeze. 

You situated yourself strategically, so you’d be beneath the shade of a magnolia tree whose pink petals kept fluttering down as if in greeting, and near a patch of daffodils that matched the shade of your gingham dress. Blades of grass tickle your legs, but not unpleasantly so, they scratch an itch found only in nature’s loving reprieve. There’s no thought of upcoming assignments, what to eat for dinner, or if buying that purse you thought was a steal at 30% off was a good idea or not. 

It’s just you and your book. 

Until it isn’t. 

Every woman is connected in the experience that is trepidation whenever a man randomly approaches. There’s no telling his intentions, if he has any. You’re left to smile awkwardly and temporarily realign yourself with religion by praying to a higher deity for his hasty departure. You map out potential escape routes and recall the pepper spray situated in your impulse-bought purse. He gently calls out “Miss”, confirming that he hopes to speak with you. 

At least he has the propriety to stop a few paces from where you sit, electing not to intrude on your personal space. This causes your shoulders to relax. In the few seconds you’ve been made aware of his existence, you recognize his appealing features. He has loose, dark hair, along with wide and seemingly unassuming eyes. His outfit of a dark gray turtleneck accompanied by a black jacket and pants somewhat strikes you as odd, considering spring is in full bloom. Two other details steal your attention away from this; those being the beige wrapping around his forehead and his spherical, turquoise-colored earrings. It’s like he was caught undecided between wanting and not wanting to attract attention. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins. You try not to think about how pleasant his voice sounds. “I’ve been trying to make sense of the directory, but I’ve never been the best with directions. Do you by any chance know how to get to the Starling House?” 

You nod. It’s a quaint, centuries-old mansion, maintained by the non-profit that oversees the flora here. Getting over the initial apprehension from his approach, you try verbalizing the most efficient path to get there. This proves more difficult than you expected since the arboretum is vast and has few waypoints that can be used for reference. Still, throughout your explanation whose unhelpfulness you grow painfully aware of, he patiently nods and makes no attempts to rush you through. 

This willingness to put up with your scattered description wins over your sympathy, pushing you past your sheepishness. 

“I guess I’m not good at giving directions. I could just show you the way, if you’d like.” 

“I’d hate to disturb your reading, but… if it isn’t a bother, I’d certainly appreciate it.” 

You’re already setting your bookmark into place. “It’s no bother. This is my second time reading it, anyway. So don’t worry. I’m not being left off on a cliffhanger or anything.” 

He smiles at that. When you’re preparing to stand, he extends his hand, a gesture that gives you a momentary pause. Well, you are wearing a dress. You suppose it’s the polite thing for him to do. You accept his unspoken offer and he hoists you up without the least bit of exertion on his part. His hand is warm and bigger than yours, slightly coarse too, surprisingly. His immaculate presentation gave you the impression of a trust fund kid or something in that vein. He’s tasteful in ensuring his touch doesn’t overstay its welcome. 

Your heart pounds in your chest. 

You catch a hint of his cologne. Sandalwood, amber, and leather blend together to form a delightfully woody fragrance. As amazing as he smells, you create a little distance, walking ahead motioning for him to follow. His longer legs have no trouble catching up, yet he never creeps too close. 

The short journey that you expect to only be accompanied by the sounds of cardinals chirping and house finches singing is interrupted by the man speaking up again. Oddly enough, you don’t mind. 

“Do you find your thoughts on Prince Myshkin’s initially endearing simple heartedness changed, knowing how the book ends?” 

You pause, taking a moment to realize he must be familiar with the work. This revelation fills you with a tentative giddiness. It isn’t often you have a chance to delve into your literary thoughts to a willing audience. There’s plenty more you could say on the subject, but you try to exercise restraint nonetheless. 

“I thought I might, but I found myself more critical of the other characters instead.” 

“Oh? And why is that?” 

He appears genuinely interested, otherwise, you would’ve kept it at that. 

“Ah, well, maybe it’s that they serve as proof that innocence is never meant to last. Or if it does, it’ll inevitably be punished. There are moments where I feel frustrated with the Prince’s naivety… but then I stop and wonder why it’s so bad to want to see the best in people. Does that speak to a flaw in his character, or to a flaw in the character of others? Maybe it’s both. I can’t help but feel the Prince’s case is more sympathetic.” 

His eyes never leave yours while you give your answer. Heat rises to your cheeks and you internally groan over the prospect of making a stranger listen to your ramblings. He was probably just looking to make casual conversation, not everyone wants an existential crisis on a Saturday afternoon. 

“You must be someone who wants to see the best in people as well,” he surmises. There’s no hint of mockery in his tone — he’s oddly sincere. He says it with a hint of bittersweet nostalgia. 

Before you can hazard a response, you come across a sign displaying information for an event at the Starling House. The building itself lies in waiting atop a hill less than a quarter of a mile ahead. He stops to read it, as do you, operating under the assumption he came here for the event. It seems that they’re displaying historic artifacts from around the area. You suppose this will be where you part ways. You’re about to wish him well when he sighs, the miffed noise stopping you. 

“I got the time wrong,” he frowns, staring at his wristwatch. 

The sign says the event begins at 6:00 p.m. and a quick tap of your phone reveals it’s 4:00. 

“If you’re looking for a way to burn time, there’s a nice garden behind the House that’s always open to the public,” you explain. This piques his curiosity. “If the sage is in bloom, you might get lucky and see some hummingbirds.” 

“That does sound lovely,” he says. Then, his lips quirk up, promising the start of a smile. “Would you care to join me, Miss…?” 

You give him your name and he nods, as if deciding it fits you. 

“[First]. I understand if my tour guide wants to get back to her reading, though.” 

Bashfulness creeps up your back and threatens to sink its fangs into your neck. Your heart’s rhythm takes an erratic cadence. He’s posing the proposition in such a lighthearted way, offering an easy out if you want to take it. You internally weigh your options on a scale that’s worn from overuse. He’s being friendly, you tell yourself. That’s all it is. 

“Well, I guess I’d be a shabby tour guide if I didn’t show you where the gardens are.” 

On the brief walk to the gardens, the man introduces himself as Chrollo. You both situate yourselves on the same stone bench. You sit on the right, he sits on the left. Once again, he leaves you plenty of space, never testing boundaries. The scent of nascent sage wafts in the air. While you scan your surroundings for hummingbirds, he tells you that his work often necessitates travel, hence his unfamiliarity with the area. 

“Does it ever get lonely?” You ask, not thinking much of it. He gives you a look you can’t quite place, so you elaborate. “Traveling all the time, I mean.” 

He tilts his head, more inquisitive than offended. “What makes you think it’d be lonely?” 

“I just think I’d get homesick after a while, always being in an unfamiliar place. I’d miss my family and friends.” 

When he continues staring at you in silence with those unreadable eyes, you swear you want to slam your head repeatedly against a wall. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family or people to call their friends. The weight of your potential insensitivity comes crashing down on you like a tsunami. 

You move your hands around wildly, rushing to correct your discourtesy. “Uh, I mean, that isn’t to say you need those things!” 

“You don’t think I have any friends?” 

Your face must be radiating more heat than a furnace. Still, the embarrassment doesn’t reach a point where you’re unable to notice his omission of the word family. “I didn’t—” 

Contrary to the reaction you were expecting, Chrollo laughs. Not a little chuckle, but a genuine laugh, hearty in a way that stands in stark contrast to his otherwise reserved demeanor. The smile it imprints on his face somehow feels different than what he’s displayed before. Those were always so well timed, lasting as long as necessary and never a second more. It hits you then just how handsome this man is. Alabaster skin, soft and glossy hair, lips as rosy as the blush on his cheeks from his outburst of laughter. 

It doesn’t last long, he’s quick to school himself. The speed he does so is almost unnatural. “I apologize, I’m only teasing. You’re very expressive, [First].” 

You let out something between a huff and a sigh. “God, I felt so awful…” 

“I can tell,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender when you send him a non-threatening glare. “To answer your question… I’ve never thought about it much. I suppose it is lonely at times.” 

This revelation pours a bucket of ice-cold water over the embers of your indignation. Your face softens and a stinging pain shoots throughout your body. You can’t bring yourself to remain miffed when you’re the one who dredged this topic up. People use humor as a means to cope, that may be what Chrollo does. 

“Enough about me, though. I’m far more interested in you.” 

You shift in your seat. Did it always feel so warm out? 

“Here, let me guess. You’re certainly a student. Hm… of the humanities, perhaps?” 

“You got the student part right,” you agree. “I’m majoring in criminal psychology.”

There’s something like a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so? You want to catch criminals, then?” 

“Er… not exactly. It’s more that I want to help them.”

He blinks. “Help them?”

“Not, like, as an accomplice,” you earnestly reassure, to which he smiles, “How do I explain it… take the city around us, right? It’s considered one of the most dangerous in the United States of Saherta.” 

As if on cue, a cacophony of police sirens begins blaring in the distance. 

“In the 80s and 90s, there was a surge of incarceration, yet crime as a whole set higher records each year. The policy at the time was ‘build more prisons, give longer sentences’. Obviously, that didn’t work out very well for anyone… except for private prisons maybe… that’s a whole different beast. Anyway, you reap what you sow. Crime rate is going down, but communities were gutted by these policies. There’s still a lot of work to be done. I want to understand ‘deviant’ behavior so I can see what safety nets would benefit them the most.” 

Chrollo is such an excellent listener that unlike before, you no longer feel the pressure to remain succinct and have little qualms completely delving into your passion. His body language suggests total engagement. 

“Ah, so you view crime as a result of societal shortcomings.” 

“It’s more nuanced than that,” you shake your head. “Hell, even when there were only four people on earth according to the Bible, Cain went ahead and committed murder anyway. That’s like… killing 25% of the population… how messed up. Wait. If there were only four people on earth, who did Cain go on to marry? How does that work…? Asexual reproduction…?” 

“The Quran says Cain and Abel both had twin sisters,” Chrollo offers. 

“Alright, that makes more sense than asexual reproduction. Okay! Enough about theology! Back to crime. There’s no totally eradicating it, but there is circumventing it. That’s what I want to help do.” 

You’ve been so preoccupied with verbalizing your thoughts, you failed to notice he’s scooted slightly closer to you. There’s enough room for decorum yet you can’t help feeling slightly flustered. Why this cute guy is still hanging around despite the fact you casually mentioned asexual reproduction not once, but twice, is a phenomenon that transcends human reason. 

This is so going to be one of those interactions that haunts you periodically at three in the morning for the rest of your life. 

“It’s a noble pursuit,” Chrollo comments. Then, he places a hand to his chin. “Forgive me if this comes off as pessimistic, but… what if you put in all that work, only for nothing significant to change?” 

You shrug. “I’ve considered that plenty, trust me. It’s fine if I don’t kickstart a utopia. So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

“One person, huh?” 

It seems more like a rhetorical musing on his part, so you allow yourself to be momentarily distracted. In your peripherals, there’s a flash of colors, shades of green and red bleeding together. A low buzz accompanies the sporadic sight. The blur moves erratically, high to low, then low to high. 

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, then whisper to your companion, “Chrollo! Look! A hummingbird!” 

The thrum of nature is a wonder you’ll never tire of. It inspires awe that reflects in your eyes like a mirror, enchants without needing to cast a spell. You wrongly assume that Chrollo must be partaking in the same miracle that has stolen your attention. He’s fixated, yes, but not on the right subject matter. He’s still staring at you. This disruption of your expectations can only be explained away by the possibility he hasn’t spotted the creature yet. To remedy this, you slowly point in the hummingbird’s direction. Finally, he breaks his gaze from your form, acknowledging what it is you find so fascinating. 

By then, it’s too late. Your newly made acquaintance departs as swiftly as it arrived. 

“Aw, that’s a shame,” you lament. The disappointment you’d feel if you were in his shoes would be immeasurable. “You didn’t get to see it for very long.” 

You have no concrete proof, but you swear every smile he wears is different than the one before it. 

“It’s alright. I saw something far better.” 

Curious, you glance to your right, searching for whatever it is. You must’ve misinterpreted whatever he was looking at before. “Something better than a hummingbird?” 

“You could say that.” 

The remainder of the time you spend together is relatively uneventful. Chrollo asks you a great deal about yourself, ranging from your hobbies to book recommendations. You try to return the favor — as is only polite, in your opinion — yet the conversation never lingers on him long before circling back to you. It isn’t until you say you feel vain talking about yourself so much that he offers some morsels of knowledge. Aside from traveling for his occupation, he’s something of an antiquarian, hence his interest in the Starling House’s event. He also reveals he has colleagues coming into town soon, the aforementioned ‘friends’ you questioned the existence of. The way he teases is so devoid of malice, you can’t bring yourself to be upset. 

The hour flies by. Good looks aside, he’s a remarkable conversationalist. There’s never an awkward silence or social misstep. One could even call him perfection incarnate. His steady cadence, command of language, meticulously formed ideas… they’re reminiscent of cogs in an automaton turning together in complete harmony. Paradoxically, this immaculate image speaks to some underlying defect in his character he mustn’t want anyone to see. There is such a thing as being too perfect. 

For whatever reason, this draws you in closer rather than repelling you. 

Chrollo’s disappointment is palpable when he glances at his watch. It’s then you’re reminded that all good things must come to an end. 

“I—” 

“It—” 

You both start and stop talking at the same time. When it’s made obvious you intend to stay silent until he speaks his piece, he motions to you with his hands, insisting you go first. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Chrollo,” you say, your voice softening. It’s amazing how you can feel your previously discarded sheepishness returning in real-time. Amazing and annoying. “I, uh, hope you enjoy the event.” 

“Please, I should be the one thanking you,” he insists. Then, for such a well-spoken man, he goes uncharacteristically quiet. Deliberating on some issue you’ll never be privy to. “You’ve already helped me a lot, but could I possibly ask for one more thing?” 

You give a nod.

“May I have your phone number?” 

You stare at him.

He stares at you. 

You continue staring at him.

He continues staring at you. 

His request echoes through your head like it was spoken in a vast cavern. Phone number… phone number... you have one of those. He is asking for it. He wants to remain in touch. Indeed, that is what the statement normally means. Ah, it must be in a platonic sense! It’s nice to have someone to talk to, especially since you both share many interests. Not many of your friends are chomping at the bit to discuss if obtaining the philosopher’s stone was a literal practice or meant to be interpreted metaphorically. 

Whoops, you left the poor guy waiting for a response. 

“S-Sure!” 

He hands you his phone without delay. You put in your contact info, then hold it up for him to take. His fingers brush over yours when he picks it back up and you shiver. 

Well, that was certainly nice. You’re forming a blossoming friendship. You love making new friends. The word repeats in your head as if it were a broken record. Friends, friends, friends. Don’t look too into this. Put your magnifying glass down, brain. The stupid three pounds of gray matter delight in tormenting you with outrageous ideas and conclusions. There’s nothing flirtatious happening here. 

“Also, I hope you don’t mind my saying so…” he trails off, weaving a web you willingly allow yourself to get trapped in, “But you are very beautiful, [First].” 

… 

Ohhhh, he’s been flirting with you this entire time, hasn’t he? 

-

Going on a date is a harrowing experience. 

For some unknown reason, your traitorous amygdala regards going to a café at noon with the same severity it would if a lion were actively chasing you down. Your flight or fight response raises the banners of war. The army it amasses digs its trenches, readies the cannons, its matches lit to fire off the artillery on standby. Who is the dreaded opponent, one may ask? No one. Absolutely no one. Incredibly enough, you can actively recognize this fact, and still, your physiological response claims it knows better. 

Social anxiety is so stupid. You thought you and your body were supposed to be on the same team. Whatever inspired this mutiny, whether it be serotonin deficiency or some other science-y term you can’t pronounce, you most certainly don’t appreciate it. 

To be fair, your parent’s reaction didn’t inspire much confidence. Your dad was asking for information on Chrollo you’re 90% sure could be used to conduct a background check, whereas your mom posited the idea he’s a human trafficker. You felt like a lawyer trying to plead your case for why it’s okay that an adult such as yourself may go on a date (sacrilegious, you know, premeditated murder would be more excusable). With some solid arguments and a few instances of stretching the truth (this sounds far nicer than the word lying), the tempest was dissipated. If Chrollo ever were to meet your parents, you’ll have to tell him he’s actually a sensitive, poetic soul that donates to orphanages and saves kittens from burning down buildings. He’s also celibate. More important than any of those things, though, he’s a political centrist. 

Suddenly everything in your closet either felt prudish enough to befit a woman entering the convent, or raunchy enough you’d need to wear a trench coat to leave the house unobstructed. In the end, you find a skirt that’d pass your middle school fingertip test and a cute blouse that shouldn’t land you in purgatory. 

Your hands are shaking when you go to do the winged eyeliner on your left eye. Then you sneeze while applying mascara, granting a raccoon appearance you could’ve done without. You feel wound up so tight there a mere poke could shatter you into millions of pieces. This is great. Millions of years of evolution led up to this. That selfish, inconsiderate fish should’ve never grown legs and stepped on land. Everything’s gone wrong since then. Fuck that fish. 

Ultimately, you succumb and take one of your ‘stage fright’ medications. If it’s doing anything to help, you can’t tell yet. 

You have to beg your dad to stop staring out the window with a pair of binoculars. 

Eventually, a sleek black car pulls in front of your house. 

Following the theme of the day, you almost trip over yourself walking out the front door. Your phone buzzes — no doubt it’s Chrollo telling you he’s here — but you decide to just go to the car rather than text him back. He must’ve spotted you, for he exits and gives you a wave. You’re grateful he did that while a considerable distance away. There was a time a guy waved at you and you thought he wanted a high five. Needless to say, that was a traumatic incident no amount of therapy could help alleviate. 

“You look absolutely lovely,” he compliments. Your Broca’s area temporarily malfunctions at this bold declaration. Fortunately, you gather yourself fast enough to stop yourself from saying “you too”. 

“Thank you,” the phrase comes out as smooth as butter. You silently congratulate yourself for your immaculate delivery of two words. “Wow… you have such a nice car. And here I thought you were a fellow member of the middle class. Am I allowed to touch this?” 

Chrollo chuckles, having gotten used to the peculiar way you word things after all your electronic communication. No matter how you expressed yourself, he still texted you back, so you figured he must be okay with whatever it is you’re doing. He would’ve blocked you by now otherwise. 

His reply comes as he holds the passenger side door open. “Ah, don’t worry. There was a bit of a mixup at the car rental place. I wasn’t expecting something of this quality either.” 

You tuck this piece of knowledge away for later, should any sugar daddy-esque allegations be thrown your way. One can never be too prepared. 

Sinking into the leather seat is a luxurious experience, although it's cold against the exposed area of your thighs. Chrollo slides into the driver’s seat not long after and sets the car into drive. You silently wonder if your neighbors think you’ve gotten into an Uber. 

The short trip to the café soothes your electrically fried nerves. You’re once again reminded of how good he is at making you forget your anxiety, he could put SSRIs out of business. Or maybe the propranolol is finally working. Whichever it may be, by the time you both order your drinks, you feel more giddy than nervous. Is it a good idea to drink a caffeinated beverage when anxiety threatens to drag you into limbo at any second? Probably not. Does that mean you’re going to wisely choose a different beverage? Nope. 

The sunlight is harsher in the afternoon, but you find this is offset by an occasional breeze. No one else is present in the outdoor dining area except for you and Chrollo. You choose the seat facing a row of bushes so you can observe the house finches and house sparrows fluttering about. One little fella is helping itself to a dirt bath in the freshly spread-out mulch. You coo at the adorable display, pointing it out to Chrollo who admits it is a precious sight. You’ve made it your raison d'être to convince him that every bird is equally fascinating, whether it be a rainbow lorikeet or a common pigeon. 

He takes the first sip of the drink you recommended. 

“Well? What do you think?” 

“It’s good,” he decides with a smile. “I can see why you get it so often.” 

“Right? I’ve thought about conducting an Ocean’s Eleven type heist to get the ingredients they use to make it.” 

“Oh? Do you grant a moral exception to thievery?” 

Despite how lightheartedly he phrases this, his eyes have a certain intensity to them. You mull over the question for this reason. 

“Hm… it depends, I guess? Some people need to steal to survive. I probably wouldn’t care if a rich person or mega-corporation got stolen from either,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow at your last statement and you hastily add, “A-As long as no one gets hurt, of course.” 

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his amusement. “Your reasoning is very cute.” 

You groan and shrink back into the garden chair. “I know, I know, that probably came off as terribly naive and self-contradictory… the issue is complex. Giving a one-size-fits-all type of consensus feels impossible. How about you? What do you think?” 

“Coveting is mankind’s original sin,” Chrollo begins. He’s using a tone that tells you to prepare for an in-depth explanation. “It’s a theme that’s recurrent throughout history. David and Bathsheba, Hades and Persephone, Heathcliff and Catherine… we always want what we cannot have. This dilemma never leaves us entirely. We either ignore it, despair in it, or succumb to it. The desire to steal is as involuntary as the diaphragm contracting for us to breathe or the electric signals that cause our heart to beat.” 

A house finch begins its soulful serenade in the background. 

“Wouldn’t you say that calling it involuntary implies we can’t control it, though?” You query. 

“The only way to exercise total control over it is to kill it.” 

“Some parts of us are better off dead,” you decide. “Getting what you want doesn’t guarantee satisfaction. The examples you listed… maybe they were happy for a time, but ultimately, their transgressions caught up to them.” 

“Is a moment of bliss not worth a lifetime of anguish?” 

“Maybe, if I was a sensualist.” 

He rests his chin on his fist, the skin beneath his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Is that what you’re saying I am, darling?” 

Your eyes widen and you almost choke on your drink at the unexpected pet name. Warmth floods your cheeks and you take a long second to recompose yourself. Your blatant display of embarrassment further fuels his amusement, he actually chuckles. You consider kicking him under the table, but decide that isn’t very ladylike. Then you remember it's the twenty-first century, and to honor your feminist ancestors, you scrunch up a napkin into a ball and fling it at him. Although the aerodynamics of your makeshift projectile are questionable, it almost hits him. Until he catches it with admittedly impressive reflexes. 

“You have a good throwing arm.” 

“And you should consider retiring from your white-collar job to join a baseball team,” you take a sip of your delicious drink. This is definitely the most memorable date you’ve been on. “But no, I don’t think you’re a sensualist. I honestly don’t know how I’d classify you. You’re jaded… almost misanthropic. You acknowledge the world for what it is, but it’s like you once thought it could be better. You don’t care to be proven right or wrong about it anymore, you want something else.” 

“Ah… when put that way, I must seem pathetic,” he muses, his casual air hardly matching the severity of the words spoken. 

“Not at all!” Your passionate outcry appears to momentarily take him aback. “If you’re still looking for something, that means deep down, you have hope you might eventually find it. To me, that’s admirable.” 

He regards you for a few moments, before closing his eyes, his countenance strangely content. “You’re a very interesting woman, [First].” 

“Pfft, not really.” 

“I’m afraid this a point I’ll have to insist on,” or so he says, but you both know he secretly relishes his contrarian ways. “I have to wonder, though. How is it you came to gather any of this about me?” 

“Your opinion on books.” 

He blinks. “Pardon?” 

“We interpret media through a lens that’s formed by our experiences, so… I dunno. You can just infer a lot from what a person gets caught up with in a story.” 

In Chrollo’s case, what he doesn’t pay attention to is equally telling, although it took you a while to notice his unique display of apathy. He’d brush on certain themes while giving a rather surface-level commentary. Playing it safe, almost. He still had such an excellent way of weaving his words, that telling it came from another person's loom was difficult. It wasn’t until you hit on a subject he truly cared for that you could tell the difference. He’d give insights so particular to him that they must contain the true essence of his character. 

Even if it is a mere glimmer. 

He speaks your name.

“Hm?” 

“About what I’m searching for…” he unwraps the napkin you unceremoniously threw his way earlier, smooths out the wrinkles, then returns it. “I think I may have found it.” 

-

Everything has a way of escalating faster than you anticipated. 

You’re about thirty minutes into the movie Perfect Blue. For some time now, you’ve been praising its merits to Chrollo, who recently said you should watch it together. This begged the question of where. In the months since you’ve begun dating, while your parents have taken a liking to him, you didn’t think the subject matter of the movie should be proudly displayed in your living room. 

To remedy this, Chrollo suggested watching it in his hotel room. 

You couldn’t fully explain your initial apprehension if you tried. You felt comfortable around him and have been alone together plenty. Yet for some reason, being alone with a man in a hotel room produced this mental image you weren’t sure you were ready for. He never pushed you or asked why you seemed hesitant to take things further than kissing and some light petting. His lack of questioning had the unintended side effect of birthing different doubts. 

Does he not want anything else? Is he only acting like it doesn’t bother him? Will a day come when he tires of your squeamishness and simply moves on? 

It’s this taunting mantra that haunted you in the lobby, the elevator, then the long, impersonal hallway to his room. 

Your chest feels heavy enough that you wonder if lead has filled your lungs. 

When he sat next to you on the couch, you barely registered his presence, much less his question if the temperature in the room felt agreeable. At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Then his hand began to meander, although his attention never left the screen. He played with your hair. Gently stroked your forearm. His hand wandered down, down, down, to the hem of your skirt. He straightens the lightly bunched fabric out. Your heart pounds. 

Chrollo’s fingers stay there, seemingly placated. 

During the scene where Mima sees her reflection as her idol persona, his hand creeps onto the exposed skin of your thighs. He gives it a gentle, tentative squeeze. A soft gasp leaves you and your attention turns to him. Immediately, your eyes meet his in the dark. The side of his face is lightly illuminated by an array of cool tones. He uses his free hand to cup your chin, the pad of his thumb rubbing your lower lip. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He speaks the question with such rapture, low and quiet. 

Your heart violently hits your ribcage like it’s trying to burst free. 

Silently, you nod. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against yours. There’s a pleasant buzz that tries so hard to overpower the frantic adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your body is at war with itself; indulgence or indignance. It’s a conflict that’ll never have a winner. You want to enjoy it — and you are, you think — so why does your biological makeup hold you as a prisoner without ransom? He tastes nice, feels nice. He did everything right. You don’t want to tremble at what’s a normal aspect of a relationship as if it were death itself hanging over your head. 

It’s this mounting frustration at your condition that spurs you into action. 

While maintaining the languid kiss, you situate yourself on his lap, a gesture that causes him to inhale sharply. He may be as surprised at your boldness as you are. You snake your arms around his neck and intensify the kiss. Humming, he reciprocates your ardor. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you grant him entry. He tastes of dark chocolate and mint, a combination you wish you could get drunk on, if only to put your tense body at ease. 

One hand squeezes and massages your thigh, the other cups your feverish face. In this position, you’re afforded no modesty. You can feel your skirt hiking up, exposing more of you. His fingers explore the new territory. They venture dangerously close to your panties, though he doesn’t go beyond there, as if respecting an invisible barrier. The cocktail of emotions this invokes is impossible to properly sort through. 

Can he feel the heat emanating from your body? Your pulse which finds new highs every minute? You want to lose yourself, but you can’t, your anxiety always drags you back kicking and screaming. It is an unforgiving warden that thinks you’d be better off in a cell. 

Chrollo admires you when you pull back, in desperate need of air. You’re starting to feel dizzy and you don’t know if it’s the right kind. There’s something hard forming beneath where you sit. His lust for you is apparent, and you want to please, want to be normal. It should be fun. Your friends regale you with stories of taking strangers home and never feeling more than butterflies in their stomach. That’s what you want. Not this contortion of the aforementioned organ that makes you think your insides are slowly liquifying. 

You still haven’t fully caught your breath, each one growing more shallow, more panicked. He finds other ways to entertain himself, namely, by lavishing your clammy skin with kisses. Your jawline, neck, then collarbone. He’s so calm you think you might be envious. Finally, he works his way back up, teasing your earlobe with his teeth, his breath warm as it fans against you. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

“[First],” his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Garbled, distant. “Should we take this to the bedroom?” 

You break into too many shards to fix. 

You get up. Straighten your skirt. You think you mutter something about needing a moment. Your legs don’t feel right. They move anyway. The bathroom’s door knob is like ice. You grab a hand towel. Turn on the faucet. Soak the towel until it drips water down the sink basin. Sit on the floor. The tiles are almost as cold enough to help. You place the towel around your neck. Your ears are ringing and you wish they’d stop. You hug your legs to your chest. What is it you’re supposed to do? Breathe? 

It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass. 

It always does. 

Just hold on a bit longer. 

Feeling comes back in your hands first. It spreads throughout your body, though the antidote is far too late. Exhaustion is the next thing you register. The kind that seeps into your cells, makes your limbs feel like dead weight. Cognition returns as well. You remember where you are, who you’re with, what you’ve done. 

It’s been a while since you’ve experienced one of these. Somehow, it’s worse than you remember. Infinitely worse. 

A shiver runs down your spine. Has it always been so cold? You wonder what temperature your body was running at for you not to have noticed sooner. 

How nice it is that your homeostasis decided to return. Is your sympathetic nervous system giving itself a pat on the back? Celebrating and popping champagne bottles at yet another job well done? We’ve done it successfully again, folks, you imagine it cheering. We’ve stopped her from doing something completely normal and harmless! 

You’d laugh, but this time, you can’t bring yourself to. 

As tempting as it is to stay here and pray for the tile floor to swallow you whole, you sincerely doubt that’ll happen, so you’re left with the far less appealing option of being an adult and facing the predicament you’re in. Getting back up, you’re treated to a glimpse of your reflection. 

The change in your complexion would make any onlooker think you’ve seen a ghost. 

Abruptly, you’re fourteen again, trying to get your mom’s attention so you can beg her to take you home because the social gathering of ten or so people is just too much. Next, you’re fifteen, talked into some weekend youth getaway because saying ‘no’ makes you feel guilty and the car ride has another two hours remaining. You feel sick, terribly sick, but you don’t want to get sick, because then your peers would think you’re strange, so you sit there and endure. Then you’re sixteen, locked in the stall of your high school bathroom, trying not to pass out because you think it’d be an inconvenience to anyone that happened upon you. 

You thought you were over this. You’ve done the therapy, read the self-help books, and taken your medication every day like clockwork. 

What’s left for you to do? 

Why does it always come back? 

Chrollo asks if everything’s alright when you walk back over to the couch. You say yes. He then asks if he can get you anything. A glass of water, please, is your reply.

You can tell he’s examining you when he hands the glass over. Your face warms — not in a fun way. The television screen is dark and yet you’re fixated on it like it’s the most intriguing thing in the world. Going from feeling as if you’re a stranger in your own body to being hyper-aware of everything never fails to give you whiplash. You can hear the low thrum of the air conditioning, footsteps coming from the hallway, the steady drip of the sink he filled your glass from. You think to rub your eyes then stop yourself; that’d smudge your mascara. It’d be nice if he could at least think you’re pretty as you struggle to hold yourself together. 

“Was it something I did?” Chrollo questions. He almost sounds… curious, a concept you furiously scrub from your head. You’re exhausted and your brain is waving the white flag. Attributing false interpretations to his words is not going to help. 

“N-No, not at all, I, um,” you have the words, you just don’t want to say them, so you opt for taking another drink instead. The glass runs out of water, your safe haven disappearing with it. “Just… a panic attack. It happens… sometimes.” 

“Entirely unprompted?” 

You gnaw on your lower lip. “Kind of…? It— nothing about it is exactly logical. I can know I’m fine, believe it too, and still, that doesn’t matter. It’ll happen anyway. I guess I have some reservations about that level of physical intimacy, but what my body decides to do is completely overkill.” 

“You always minimize the role your anxiety plays in your life,” Chrollo points out. You’re grasping the glass tight enough that your knuckles hurt. “You can’t mention it to me without making light of it in some way. Is there a reason for that?” 

Well, he’s got you there. 

You’re about to joke and ask if he’s the one studying the behavioral sciences, when you realize that’d just be proving his point. 

So uncharacteristic acrimony bubbles to the surface instead.

“A reason? I can give you more than one. It’s stupid, it’s annoying. The most simple things become like a fucking life or death experience for me and I can’t stand it,” you feel tears gather at your lower lashline but you’re too far gone to care. It’s a good thing your mascara is waterproof. “And then I… I think sex sounds nice, but when it actually gets to the moment, I feel so guilty and anxious and wrong that I leave my partner frustrated or thinking they’re some sort of monster.” 

Usually, Chrollo's countenance is difficult to read, but there’s this raw emotion that makes itself known. Understanding? Relief? You don’t know for certain. It disappears without a trace, leaving you no way to confirm or deny your intuition. It’s probably too fried to be reliable, anyway. 

“Hm… you must think all this would put me off, then. Make me want to move on to someone else.” 

A knife stabbing you in the gut and twisting its blade until your viscera turned to mush would hurt less. 

“Sweetheart, I was already aware that it was worse than what you let on,” his voice sounds so kind and near, you marvel at it, the gravitational pull drawing you in. You barely realize he’s brought you into an embrace. Your cheek is against his chest, right above his heart. His has a calm, steady rhythm, whereas yours is picking back up once more. “Your avoidance of talking on the phone, how soft your voice gets when interacting with strangers, the way you act like you’re an inconvenience by asking for the slightest assistance.” 

The tears you tried holding in break free, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. 

“I find these qualities of yours very endearing. You can go from passionately speaking about your interests over dinner to going shy the second the waiter walks over. You care so much, feel so much… it’s a wonder to me. You experience this life in the exact opposite manner I do.”

With the hand he isn’t using to keep you secure against him, he rubs your back up and down. 

“Ah, my poor, sweet girl. What a tender heart you have,” he whispers. His grip on you tightens. That’s when you hear it — the undeniable sound of his heart beating a bit faster than it did before. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not after all the effort I put into stealing it for myself. No, I’m almost hurt you entertained the thought. Have I ever treated you with anything less than the utmost care? Hm?” 

Chrollo starts to pull you away from him, yet you refuse, clinging adamantly to his torso in an attempt to hide your face. He ignores the way you shake your head and by exerting the slightest force, achieves his original goal. His fingers find purchase on your chin, which he tilts upward, allowing himself an unobscured view of your puffy eyes and runny makeup. He smiles, wiping away your tears with such gentleness, he must think you’re made of porcelain. 

Sniffling, you remember he asked you a question, and attempt cobbling together a coherent response. Such is the polite thing to do. “I guess not.” 

“And why do you think that is?” 

“... The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to conduct an in-depth case study for your future dissertation on GAD and SAD?” 

His visage lands somewhere between mild bemusement and exacerbation. “I know you’re smarter than that. Try again.” 

“My winning personality, once you wade through all the mental illness?” 

“That certainly plays a role.” 

“I know I’m cute, too. I suppose that helps. Otherwise, I’d be completely and utterly fucked.” 

“Yes, yes — you are terribly cute.” 

Sensing your hesitancy to land on a definitive answer, he decides to spell it out himself. “I’m fond of you, to a degree I previously thought myself incapable of. I have a… callous disposition, for lack of a better word. Yet for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem to bother you. I’ve never cared for subjective terms like ‘good’ or ‘evil’, but… if there is goodness in this world, it’d be found in you.” 

Chrollo’s knuckles brush against your cheekbone as he speaks, seemingly bewitched by the glittering stream your tears left behind. Tangible proof of your emotions that tumult like a tempest, whereas his often remains an unmoving body of water. 

You take his cheeks in your hands and glare at him. This time, when your lower lip trembles, it’s with righteous anger, not sorrow. “Why do you always talk about yourself like you’re the world’s biggest villain?” 

His eyes slightly widen — you’ve never used a tone like this with him before, or anyone else, for that matter  — though his composure doesn’t wane for long. 

“So what if you don’t think everything is sunshine and rainbows? You aren’t heartless; you just know the dangers of putting your heart on display for everyone else to see. I can’t blame you for that, from what you’ve told me.”

He’s never been particularly forthcoming about sharing details from his past. What you do know is that he grew up in extreme poverty, without parents or a guardian, scraping by with some other children in a similar situation. You never pushed to learn more. There was this quiet melancholy that possessed him in the rare moments he shared glimpses of his childhood. The specters that haunted him could almost be felt lingering in the atmosphere, turning the air heavy and thick. 

“You lost a precious friend in such a cruel way. That loss of innocence, it’s unforgivable, it’s completely unfair…!”

This time, your tears aren’t for you, they’re for a little boy you’ll never know and a girl that you couldn’t if you tried. “I don’t get why you’re so harsh on yourself. You act like you’ve done something unforgivable.” 

He parts and closes his lips. Whatever he intended to say, he must’ve decided against it. Instead, he pulls you back against him, almost greedily. He presses kisses atop your head then murmurs a few words you can’t quite catch. Your body is deprived of energy, having flickered through almost every major emotion a human being can experience. If your parents wouldn’t have fussed over the act, you could’ve fallen asleep on him for the night. 

The person who inadvertently caused your blistering anxiety is also the best balm for it. 

It’s unexplainable, teetering on the edge of delusion, this sentiment that he could shield you from all harm. He’s always so sure of himself when you remain plagued by indecisiveness. He can talk you out of any irrational thought, anchor you when a stressful situation is beginning to be too much, and understand you almost eerily well. He’s able to piece together your chaotic thought processes with next to no context. He listens to you, remembers everything you say (and you mean everything), and genuinely values your input, even if he disagrees with your opinions. 

This level of an intimate connection is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

“No one’s ever cried for my sake before,” he thinks aloud. He’s stroking your back again, almost mindlessly. You swear there’s something magical about his touch. 

“Do you think I’m weird?” 

“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you,” he decides. As always, he’s clever at avoiding questions he doesn’t wish to answer. “Currently, the one that stands out to me the most would be…” 

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you. 

“Warm.” 

-

The arboretum is far different in autumn. Green leaves have transitioned into rich auburn and golden shades, hesitant buds nowhere to be seen. The grass beneath your feet is crunchier, the foliage dry and scattered, almost as if it were trying to form a protective sheath for the earth. No longer can you hear the melody of grasshoppers and buzzing from busy bees. The wind whistles when it blows, the underlying frostiness biting at your cheeks and ears. 

“Ah, would you look at that, it’s a junco,” Chrollo points out. You cover your mouth to muffle a gasp. Thanks in part to your guidance, he’s gotten better at identifying different types of birds. While you’d like to think it’s because he appreciates them too, you’re convinced he finds your excited reaction far more interesting. 

The little blob of black and white hops to and fro, using its feet to rummage for anything edible. You silently lament your lack of birdseed. You’ll have to settle for cheering the tiny friend on from afar. 

Hand in hand, you both traverse the area of your original meeting. Sweet nostalgia swirls in your chest. You’ve always found it befuddling how a single chance encounter can permanently change the trajectory of your life. In the moment, you have no idea how your actions will go on to form ripples that influence the future. Whether this is chaos theory or some other fancy metaphysical-sounding concept, you haven’t the slightest clue. 

What you do know is that meeting Chrollo was a catalyst for something greater. 

A wave of chills cascades over you.

“Are you cold?” He inquires, his tone having this ‘I told you so’ quality to it that you don’t appreciate. You’re wearing a light beige, plaid fitted blazer, that while chic, doesn’t have much insulation. You waved off his initial concern by saying you’ll warm up once you both get to walking around. So much for that. 

“Cold is a mindset,” the chattering of your teeth doesn’t do much to help your cause. He raises an eyebrow. “Mind over matter… mind over matter…” 

Chrollo shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick, dear.” 

“You sound like my grandma.” 

“The one who tried taking my head wrappings off, or the one who kicked me?” 

“A combination of the two that coalesces their tendency to fuss over me.” 

“You’re very easy to fuss over,” Chrollo chuckles at the face you make at him. “You’re absolutely precious. It’s a mystery to me how you make the smallest acts endearing.” 

At this, you strike a dumb pose, winking at him all the while. “Aha, it’s no mystery. You have my irresistible charm to thank for that.” 

He sighs wistfully. “Indeed I do.” 

Although the sage gardens behind the Starling House are no longer in bloom, you decide to swing by anyway. The plans for the remainder of your day follow a similarly simple yet pleasant precedent. You’re going to go window shopping in a quaint commercial district, grab something to eat at a pub, then end the night off with a movie. Chrollo’s trying to convince you to watch some indie flick that’s in black and white and uses a 1.19:1 ratio. You want to watch Alien, a classic he’s never seen like the weirdo he is. 

The walk isn’t long or monotonous. It’s so idyllic that you could believe you’re the only two people in the world. 

However, that isn’t the case. Upon entering the garden, you’re quick to note the presence of another.  

A young woman is kneeling down, murmuring under her breath. She’s acting as if she’s lost something and can’t find it. Frowning, you detach yourself from Chrollo, approaching her with the intent to offer your assistance. She doesn’t lift her head upon hearing the obvious sounds of your footfall. She just continues blindly grasping at the ground. 

“Miss?” You ask, to which her entire body freezes. “Did you drop something? I could help you look for it.” 

She mutters another incomprehensible jumble of words. 

“Hm? What was that?” 

You lean over in an attempt to hear her better. 

Then, much to your confusion, she enunciates your full-given name. Even while doing this, she doesn’t spare you a single glance. 

“Have to… have to…” she’s back to being difficult to make sense of, “I have to…”

 A strange sensation possesses you.

Have you met this woman somewhere before? You do a quick mental scan of her disheveled appearance and come up with nothing definitive. Her hair is matted, her complexion sallow and her cheeks sunken in. Her disoriented state stirs concern within you. It’s a good sign that she’s still conscious and exhibiting motor functions, but the longer you examine her, the more you can tell she isn’t in a proper state of mind. You don’t want to leave her out here alone in such a vulnerable state. You try to push aside the uncanny feeling that came from her apparently recognizing you when you’re certain you’ve never met. 

Chrollo speaks your name. Turning around, you face him just in time to catch a surreal expression forming on his countenance. His eyes widen slightly, his lips part, then he’s reaching out for you. 

The passage of time grinds temporarily to a halt. 

And then there is a visceral burst of energy. 

It’s as if a blizzard manifests from the direction the woman is hunched over in. There’s this thick, harrowing tension that causes your legs to buckle at the knees. Swirls of negative emotions wrap around you in shadowy tendrils. Grief. Hysteria. Rage. Bitterness. Most notable, however, is the sickening yearning to inflict harm. How can a human being produce and project such raw feelings? It’s like hatred itself has been given a palpable form, submerging you in a swamp of mire. 

You don’t understand what’s happening to you, but you do have this primal foreboding that the longer you’re exposed to it, the more endangered you’ll be. 

In the millisecond it takes for you to blink, Chrollo is no longer in your line of sight. 

It’s strange, you think. There are no knives, guns, explosives; or anything that could hurt you in the traditional sense. In a way you could understand and reliably assess the threat level of. 

And still, despite this uncertainty, you have this unshakable premonition that death isn’t far away. 

-

You wake up in a bed that is not your own. 

Your body is drenched in sweat, your muscles sore, and your head feels as if it’s being clamped in a vice-like grip. Trying to get up proves to be a poor decision. Nausea and dizziness force you to lie back down. You take shallow, frantic breaths, wincing at yet another wave of throbbing coming from your temples. Your senses aren’t reliable either. The first few times you open your eyes, dark spots dot your vision. Then there’s your hearing, or lack of. There’s this distant ringing that while slowly fading, isn’t replaced by anything better. Your hearing grows so muffled you almost think earplugs have been jammed in your ear canal. 

Groaning, you manage to lift yourself off the mattress with trembling arms. The dark spots fade away enough for you to make out your surroundings. 

You’re in Chrollo’s hotel room, lying on his bed. 

It’s nighttime. The digital clock sitting on the bedside table reads 3:40 a.m.  

The next thing you do is feel around for your phone. It should be in the back pocket of your jeans, but it isn’t there. 

The brisk air takes your breath away when you tug the comforter off. Your body groans with protest at all the movement, yet you ignore its request to lay back down, the situation at hand far too perplexing. Your outfit is the same as the one you put on this morning, aside from your boots, which sit together near the wall. You then assess your body for any physical injuries, finding nothing visible to explain your current malaise. Are you hungover? Frowning, you dismiss the idea. You know your tolerance well and never try pushing it. 

Taking small steps and using the wall as leverage, you make your way over to the adjoined bathroom. You fill a dental cup with water and down it instantly. After satiating your thirst, you call out for Chrollo, your voice gravelly with sleep. 

No response. 

Sighing, you slink over to the closed bedroom door. Your equilibrium steadies itself enough that you only need to grab onto something every few steps. The handle doesn’t budge. You try again, exerting more force — still nothing. The subsequent attempts end in the same manner. There’s no denying it, it’s been locked. That begs the question of why. Safety, maybe? It’s possible Chrollo stepped out for whatever reason and wanted to ensure no one could get to you. Then again, that’s what the deadbolt on the door leading to the hotel hallway is for. 

You don’t want to start rattling the door and making a scene when you’re certain there’s a solid explanation for this. He has to come back eventually, his stuff is still here. Although, you can’t help noticing how sparse his personal belongings are. The book he was reading no longer sits on the bedside table, the framed picture of the two of you gifted by your parents isn’t on the wardrobe either. Next, you check the closet, finding it in a similarly desolate state. You once pillaged a shirt of his when you grew tired of wearing a dress, so you know its usual presentation. The hangers remain on the rack yet everything else is gone.

Chrollo told you his job had placed him in this city indefinitely. Is he planning to move to another hotel? 

Not knowing what else to do, you sit on the edge of the bed. The former pounding in your head has soothed into a far less egregious dull ache. You must’ve been asleep for a decent chunk of time, this initial grogginess is what you experience upon first waking up in the morning. You hope you weren’t unconscious for too long. It's an unsettling thought, being in that vulnerable state, totally shut off from the world. 

A few minutes of absentmindedly admiring the twinkling lights that make up the city skyline’s pass. 

Then you hear the door handle jingle. 

Chrollo silently examines you. It’s almost as if he’s gauging your entire being, anticipating what is to come. His mouth is set in a straight line and he’s standing unnervingly still. There’s this intensity to him that has you breaking off eye contact. Your mouth goes dry and you temporarily forget how to form words. You had so many burning questions in his absence, why is it that they've been wiped clean from your head now that he’s here? 

When you find the courage to look up at him again, there’s not a vestige of his former expression. The grave lines have smoothened out and you no longer believe you’re face to face with a stranger. 

“How are you feeling?” He’s quick to close the distance. The mattress dips, adjusting to his presence by your side.  

“Oh, uh, not the best, but… I don’t think it’s anything serious,” you say. Silvery moonlight shines into the room, illuminating him in an otherworldly veil. Goosebumps line your skin when he takes the side of your face into his hand. He’s cold. “I’m mostly just confused. Is— is everything okay? Why am I here?” 

“How much do you remember?” 

Remember, remember… that’s right, you hadn’t given that much thought. You pick through your hazy memories aloud. “Well, we were at the arboretum, just walking around. I remember heading to the gardens behind the Starling House. Then… um…” 

You squint and furrow your eyebrows together. It’s as if your recollection was a film reel that had been trimmed after that point. You try piecing together a mental image of the garden. Hummingbirds? Sage? No, that isn’t right, you’re thinking of its spring appearance. The colors would be more muted, there’d be less shrubbery. The image grows sharper.

Then there’s a shadow. 

Vaguely human-shaped, situated right in the middle of the mosaic you’re trying to form. Their outline isn’t solid, it’s splotchy, like water paint left to run on a canvas. 

Finally, something clicks. 

“That woman!” You exclaim. The corner of his lips twitch downward. “That’s right! Is she okay? She seemed so out of it.” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“How is that possible? You were—” 

“Let’s focus on you for now,” he cuts you off. There’s a finality in his voice you can’t bring yourself to challenge. “Can you tell me what symptoms you’re experiencing?” 

“Um, some disorientation and a headache.”

“I see. I’ll get you some painkillers, then.” 

You grab his wrist to stop him when he starts getting up. “I’d really prefer you told me what happened first.”

When he doesn’t immediately acquiesce to your request, you quietly add, “Please.” 

His eyes soften at your gentle, uncertain timbre. He intertwines his fingers with yours and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. 

“Earlier, when we arrived at the garden, you grew lightheaded and fainted.” 

You take a moment to process the information. It seems plausible enough, yet the more you mull over it, the more little details start to catch your attention.

“Okay…” you trail off, pursing your lips. A vengeful throb from your head causes you to wince. He notices — frowns — then places a featherlight kiss against your forehead. The thoughtful gesture doesn’t invoke any pleasant warm fuzzy sensations. “So I fell unconscious for over ten hours and you didn’t… call an ambulance…?” 

“That is correct.” 

You shuffle in your seat, momentarily taken aback at how easygoing he’s acting about the entire ordeal. “Why?” 

“I’ve been monitoring your vitals,” he reassures. Sensing your growing apprehension, he adds, “I can promise that you were never in serious danger. I would’ve acted accordingly if you were.” 

The phrase ‘acted accordingly’ doesn’t tell you much either. What does he mean by that? Is there some threshold you needed to enter for him to have taken you to the hospital? Your various volunteer experiences with the city’s vulnerable communities taught you that if a person is unresponsive for over a minute, an ambulance should be called, just to be on the safe side. Besides, isn’t that just common sense? Chrollo is an intelligent man. You can’t fathom any line of reasoning that’d justify not erring on the side of caution. 

You glance at the clock again. 4:03 a.m. glows in the dim light of the room. It’s late. You wonder what your parents—

Holy shit. 

“Do my mom and dad know?” You glance around as if expecting to find them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have insisted on calling emergency services if you were unconscious for that long. 

“I didn’t inform them, no.” 

“What?” You make no attempts to tone down your incredulity. “Then— they must be out of their minds with worry! My phone, where’s my phone? I need to tell them I’m okay!” 

You shoot up off the bed too fast and your body doesn’t take kindly to the rushed movement. Debilitating lightheadedness causes you to lose your balance. Chrollo steadies your swaying form and helps sit you back down. You scoot away from him as far as you can, your thoughts an absolute mess. Nothing here is making sense. It’s not even a puzzle that’s missing a few pieces, there’s almost nothing to work with at all. 

He’s staring at you in that strange, anticipatory manner again. It makes your stomach churn. 

“My phone, Chrollo,” you hold your hand out. “There’s no way you don’t have it.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t give it to you,” he sounds apologetic too, which makes your subsequent temper flare up even worse. 

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, exasperation winning out. You were trying to be reasonable, but that is over and done with. “You’re acting like— like there’s nothing weird happening! Can you please take this seriously? You’re really starting to freak me out.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, so I wanted to remain calm for your sake.” 

Your tongue couldn’t properly form words if your life depended on it. Sure, remaining calm in a crisis is helpful, but he isn’t acting like this is a crisis. He’s treating it as if he was burdened with sitting you down to relay bad news that no one else had the heart to share. 

You’re starting to think you don’t know the person you’re talking to. 

“For my sake,” you repeat in a wry deadpan. “If that’s true, then tell me what’s actually going on, Chrollo. Because I know you’re bullshitting me.” 

Not calling the ambulance or informing your parents, withholding your phone… then there’s the matter of how he got you here in the first place. Did he carry you through the lobby? No good samaritans thought it was unusual to see a man carrying an unconscious woman up to his room? Hotel staff these days are trained to have a vigilant eye for these situations too. Not one person thought it might be a good idea to ring up law enforcement over such a blatantly suspicious act? 

Nothing is adding up. 

“I’m being more forthcoming than you think,” Chrollo says, as if he’s doing you a favor. He tries reaching out for your hand again, only this time, you don’t allow him. “Everything I’ve said and intend to say is the truth, even if you don’t particularly like it.” 

That’s a hell of a creative way of putting it!

“Who was that woman earlier? What did she do to me?” 

“I have someone ironing out the details, but from what I’ve gathered, she was sent with the intention of killing you. I don’t believe she was aware of the fact herself until you entered her vicinity, triggering the necessary condition for the true culprit’s ability to activate. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to get so close.” 

Someone was sent to kill you? You? A run-of-the-mill college student who has no enemies to speak of? It’s not like you’re a part of the fucking mob. That can’t be right, not to mention the bizarre jargon he’s using. There’d be no plausible motive. If he says she was sent, and you choose to believe he isn’t making this all up, that implies it was premeditated. Not a spur-of-the-moment decision. That’d almost make more sense. 

That is, unless… 

You stare at him, eyebrows knitting together. 

“If you’re telling the truth — and right now, that’s a big fucking if — does this have something to do with you?” 

“That’s my clever girl,” he praises, entirely devoid of condescension. The pure fondness in his voice makes you sick. It’s almost as if he’s delighting in watching you piece this nightmare together. “Yes, you haven’t deliberately done anything to earn the wrath of the wrong people. They simply know getting to me is near impossible, hence their decision to go for the next best thing instead. That’d be you, dear.” 

“Oh my god,” you bury your head in your hands. “Why… why am I not freaking out more? I should be hysterical, or, or— I don’t know…” 

“Beta blockers,” he reveals. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. “In anticipation of how… touchy this conversation was going to be, I thought it might be best for you to be in a good headspace while receiving this information for the first time.” 

“You drugged me?” 

“If that’s how you want to look at it.” 

“Because that’s how it is!” 

A lump forms in your throat and lodges itself there. Are you stuck in a hellacious dream? Or hallucinating, perhaps? Visual hallucinations aren’t supposed to be this cohesive or clear. There has to be another explanation. Something you’re missing that’d make this all go away. The beta blocker admission certainly holds weight. Your heart rate, while slightly elevated, isn’t anywhere near as chaotic as it should be. It’d explain the general malaise, fatigue, and lightheadedness too. That, and you doubt you’d be able to think this clearly if there wasn’t something heavy pumping through your system. 

Your eyes hesitantly settle on Chrollo, who sits there perfectly still and almost relaxed. He’s observing you like a hawk. 

“Listen,” you try using a mellower voice. He raises an eyebrow at your drastically different approach. “You had ample opportunity to hurt me and you didn’t. That must mean you have my best intentions at heart, right? Why don’t we try to work something out, because this isn’t sustainable. My absence isn’t going to go unnoticed.” 

Chrollo sighs, heavy if not unsurprised. “Sweetheart, I’m not suffering a break from reality, although I’m sure you’d prefer to rationalize it that way. I assure you I’m lucid and everything I’ve done is intentional. You’ll come to accept it eventually.” 

It isn’t going to help, yet you feel your remaining grains of patience slip through your fingers. 

“What’s this talk about a ‘condition’ and ‘ability’, then?” You challenge. 

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d mention that,” he doesn’t sound like you landed on a reason that’d prove him wrong. “How to explain it… you once told me you think there are phenomena in this world that can’t be explained by empirical evidence. Consider this an example of that. I’m sure you must’ve felt it before you fainted. An intense, concentrated sensation that awoke your primordial fear. Bloodlust.” 

You want to argue until you run out of breath, but this description does strike a chord. Reality itself feels as if it’s drifting further and further away. In an awfully cruel twist, Chrollo and his collected disposition is the most grounding factor you have to latch onto. 

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” he finally replaces that matter-of-fact tone with something resembling compassion, “But know this: you’re not in any danger. Neither are those you care about, so long as you act sensible.” 

Shivering, you hug your arms around your chest. “How can you say that to me so easily? I thought… I thought you…” 

He’s enveloping you from behind. You didn’t even see him move. Weakly, you struggle against his hold, but you’re not in any condition to put up a fight. In the event you were, it’s doubtful it’d make much of a difference. He’s strong. It goes beyond physical strength, into some esoteric realm you’ve become forcibly acquainted with. He’s exerting this slight pressure that makes your heart skip a beat, despite the medication. It isn’t comparable to what you experienced in the garden — there’s no malice — it feels more like a warning. 

“You’re surprisingly sensitive to Nen,” he murmurs, humming contentedly when you go limp against him. His chin rests atop your head and his arms ensnare your midriff. “How interesting. No matter. Whatever your fascinating brain concocted is still true. You may think me merciless, but if you knew me, you’d find this to be my greatest act of mercy yet.” 

“I thought I did know you,” is your weak reply. You don’t recognize the sound of your voice. 

“The parts of me I wanted to show you, yes,” he moves your hair aside so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck. “And a few glimpses you gleaned in your own way. Really, you are such a sweet girl. Willing to overlook discrepancies to see the ‘good’ in me.” 

Heat rises and ignites on your cheeks. “I-I could scream, you know.” 

“You could.” 

That’s not the reaction you were expecting. 

“You’re… not going to try and stop me?” 

“No,” he responds. “I’ve always found experience to be the best teacher.” 

“You really,” you heave a humorless laugh, uncertain of what else to do, “You really don’t see anything wrong with this?” 

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, marveling at how your pulse remains steady, thanks to his intervention. 

“‘So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.’” 

“What?” 

“It’s what you said the first day I met you,” Chrollo explains, nostalgia evident. “I’ve thought about those words often. Your effulgence, your desire to do right by others. It made me wonder if there could ever be anyone more perfect for me than you. You, whose pretty neck I could snap before you’d ever realize what happened, stirred up a sentimentality in me I thought myself incapable of.” 

Sandalwood, amber, and leather. His scent is the same as that day.

Are his intentions? 

Is this a prophecy he himself ordained and always intended to see fulfilled? 

“You stole my heart, and as recompense, I will steal you. Think whatever you want about me, dear. Just don’t think I’m selfless enough to ever change my mind.” 

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh x reader #not sfw #my stuff

[cosmicbyeol]

𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧?? : 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 18+ 𝙙𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙨

take this however it resonates.

calm down and take deep breaths.

WARNING : this contains mature content!! warnings will be before each pile for any triggering contents!!

♥︎ pile 1. seven – jungkook & LATTO

there’s a sense of love here ( obviously ). they’d prefer to take things slow most of the time. they want to take their time with you, even if you’ve had sex multiple times they still explore you like it’s the first time again. most of the time your making love and not going full force all the time. they may like lots of eye contact, it helps them sense what you’re feeling and deepens the connection between you. most of the time sex can start by then massaging you after a rough day for you. ( this is a new deck that I’m using and in the guide book it describes this card as “like a sexual Poseidon” and mentions the ocean a lot so it is in fact “show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is” )  

no matter what they can always seem to get you in the mood, no matter where you are or what time it is. they have a way with words and it’s like they’re compelling you. they never force you of course, but you finally give in. their dirty talk could be amazing. they always know what to say. whether it be in person, or texting. I think they like sexting as well as maybe video calls. they might like to introduce new things into the bedroom pretty frequently. but it’s mostly things they’ll think you’ll like. 

for this relationship I think it’ll be important to set up boundaries. having structure. there might be complications that could lead to arguments. this could be an outside of the bedroom thing that could lead into the bedroom or just something that they did that you didn’t like while having sex. just like I’m the music video, they’re arguing and she’s putting him off and ignoring him or annoyed that he’s constantly trying to be in her space. but he’s only trying to prove himself. but in the end they make up. 

this is someone that will like to spoil you in and outside the bedroom. they like praising you, saying you’re doing well and that you feel good to them. they might buy you a lot of undergarments. they like to see you looking ethereal for them. they like giving you what you want. multiple orgasms is a thing for them, however many you want or however many they think you deserve ( they actually think you deserve the world so… ) which probably leads to overstimulation. 

they might feel possessive of you when this is happening, they like feeling like they’re yours and you are theirs. they won’t let you go. there might be a lot of marking and maybe even a breeding kink. but in the aspect of having a family with you and just the thought of being with you “forever” just does something to them. they’re devoted to you and only you. 

they put your own pleasure above theirs, there might even be times where they don’t cum or if they do it’s because they came because they were taking care of you. I’m seeing them eating you out or them sucking you off and then finishing in their pants or on the bed. they get their pleasure from you.  they don’t care if they don’t finish to be honest. most of the time it’s you that wants them to cum or wants to touch them. you’re the one that asks to touch them or wants them to cum too. 

♥︎ pile 2. dOra maar ( english version ) – OnlyOneOf

mentions of a safe word & the use of one; exhibition; treating someone like a possession;

there’s a sense of someone being inexperienced here. the one that’s more experienced will sort of take you under their wing. they’ll teach you a lot and will guide you through things. they have a craving to be your firsts for a lot of things. I think at first they’ll see/treat you as someone who learns from them or like a possession. I don’t know how to explain it and make it not sound bad. they like you and stuff but the feeling is sort of detached from their love or attraction towards you. like this line “keep you in sight, keep them safe at all cost. because you’re my masterpiece”. even if they might not be your first they most definitely want to be your last.

they like your physique, they feel like they could stare at you forever and never get tired of you. I feel like they like edging a lot, mostly yours. they might like to see you cry a bit. they get off on your glossy eyes looking back at them. they like when you chip in as well, like if they’re making you feel good they like it when you’re adding to the stimulation. they think having an orgasm is a joint effort. there also might be open to trying new things and new experiences in the bedroom with you as well.

they like being the one that experienced new things with you. even if you are somewhat experienced they like bringing new crazy things into the bedroom. things they hope you haven’t tried or experienced with someone else. a somewhat blank slate. a blank canvas. they want you to feel safe and for you to just let go. they want you to sit back and not worry about anything. they’ll take care you.

they’re very big on boundaries, even outside of the bedroom they have safe words. they probably have a sit down talk with you once you’re ready to have sex or be more serious about it. they want to know all the things you don’t like or things you might be willing to try. things that are strictly off limits to you and to them as well. they also put themselves on the table and in the open. they tell you what they like and what they might want to try. you guys often sit down and have talks like this. talks about previous times and what you liked and didn’t like. it might not seem like it, but they do adjust themselves accordingly to your tastes and needs. they want to be able to explore your world safely. and visa versa.

they don’t like exhibition that much because they want to keep you to themselves. there’s a sense of wanting to keep you shielded from peering eyes. they want to be the only one that gets to see you, to see all of you. they might like seeing you take the lead or for you to have an air of “hey look at me, we’re going to have it my way”. I can see you walking up to them naked or maybe with pretty undergarments, with all your prowess and them sitting down legs spread looking at you with want and a small smile.

even though there is communication here, there might be a big misunderstanding of some kind. I’m getting it’s from the inexperienced person. they might want to try something that might be too much for them, but they say it’s fine and that they can do it. even though they’re a little scared they just want to be pleaser. but it just might go fine in the end. you might have a talk afterwards because they knew you felt that way. they went easy on you of course, but if it happens again they might punish you for it.

♥︎ pile 3. blah blah – the boyz

bondage with ropes & ties/anything at hand; humiliation;

I’m getting one of you being showered in gifts, whether it be clothes or toys. it’s already in your possession before you even think about it. this person wants to provide for you. they want you sitting on a throne, if it was possible they’d absolutely do it. they want to give you everything you want. they honestly want to wait on you hand and foot. they’re a very much a power bottom, whatever you tell them to do they’ll do it. they want to give you EVERYTHING. 

this all might help build your confidence if you’re lacking. body worship might be a big thing as well. especially in front of a mirror, they want you to see how good you look. how ethereal you look to them. praise is a big thing too, especially them tell you how you deserve to feel good. you might have gone through some partners that didn’t know how to make you cum or finish so you most likely finished by yourself afterwards. but don’t worry that doesn’t seem to be the case with them. 

on more harder nights there might be bondage including ropes. but for the most part they like scarves or whatever they can get their hands on. they mostly like tying your arms up but some nights maybe your legs. for your legs it doesn’t really matter to them, tied open or even your thighs tied together. humiliation might also play a part when they’re feeling more dominant with you. making fun of you because you’re liking what they’re doing to you, or if they’re barely touching you and you’re already hard/wet. 

no matter if this is a fwb, sugar, or you’re partners you both complement each other. even if you’re the same or you look like polar opposites. you’re a match sexually. you like what the other is sporting and dealing out. it just feels right to you. to spice things up you might role play, you don’t really need to spice things up. this is more for fun than anything. 

they like the thought of you exploring yourself. when they’re away they want to hear all bout your little escapades.  they want to know new ways to make you cum. they want to know their way around your body. there might be mutual masturbation, or at least them watching you every once and a while. 

not really a sexual thing but people honestly wonder how you do it. they want to know how you have this person wrapped around your finger. in the palm of your hand. not to sound stupid or anything but I’m telling you, those people that want to know have running theories. the top theory I’m thinking is why I chose this song, it’s about being entranced by someone’s voice. they could listen to it all day and night.   

#18+ only!! #18+ content #pac #free tarot #tarot #tarot pac #pac tarot #pick a card #pick a photo #pick an image #pac reading #tarot reading #18+!! #MDNI #a reading no one asked for!! #pac 15

[poisonedprose]

𝐈𝐕. 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋. ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 - taglist

IN WHICH, leon is giving his all and trying so hard to save your relationship after the tragic incident but you have given up all hope on everything, including yourself. you've let yourself go, pretending like your actions have zero consequences, fighting with leon in the early mornings, making up with sex, and then doing it all again. doesn't it get exhausting making the bed?

WARNINGS, iv. 1k, angst, curse word, alludes to sex, sex as an apology, toxic reader, alludes to reader doing drugs, leon is desperate,

"Carlos? 'Goodbye, Carlos'?" Leon was angry, angry couldn't even begin to describe the emotion he was feeling. He felt like his blood was bubbling with rage. No, it wasn't rage. It was betrayal. "Leon.. It's not what it looks like—" He cuts you off, not even bothering to hear you out. "Oh? It's not? Really? Cause it looks like you were on the phone with your ex boyfriend." You sigh, cringing at the fact that he was in fact right. You caved, weakened your common sense and called the one person you shouldn't of.

Leon was familiar with Carlos, well, at least his legacy. Leon knew all about how Carlos fucked you over and you expressed to him you were terrified of him doing the same to you. Now here you both were, you were the one breaking the promise that you insisted on having. "Leon, please. I was just..." You trail off. You were just what? Desperate? Leon sighs, throwing the bouquet of flowers onto the coffee table, small drops of water sliding out of the plastic encasing. He was trying to do something nice, try to cheer you up.

You were so sweet last night, so apologetic. Now, he thought he was a fool for even thinking you were getting better. There was not an ounce of courage in you to change. He knew that, but once again, he fell for your simple minded games. He was getting tired of it, tired of being led on just to be let down. It was silent as the two of you exchanged looks, almost like you were trying to communicate through your eyes. You were the first one to look away, the way he looked at you with hurt was eating at you, making you cave.

He didn't know what to say. Was there anything he could say to make this better? His stomach turns with doubt. Had you finally cracked? He knew this day was coming, the day where you lose it, lose all your morals. The sickest part of it all? He was okay with it. He was okay with becoming a martyr to you. He would testify until his final breath that you were a good person. He would cling to as he took his last breath to die in your arms, even if you didn't want him to.

It was pathetic almost, to love someone so much that he could look the other way in times like this. Could it even be called love anymore? It was silent. Was it because neither of you dared to speak? Or because neither of you knew what to say? Was there even anything to say? Leon knew he should protest, call you some kind of degrading word for cheating, or even imploring the idea, but he doesn't. He couldn't. He swallows, his mouth is dry. He felt like a fool. You were the queen and he was the court jester.

The silence was starting to become unnerving. Serving as only a cruel reminder that he couldn't stand up to you. Sure, he could scold and yell at you for hours. But this. This was different. This was do or die. At least, that's what if felt like. He could feel you slipping through his fingers. He wanted to hold on, despite how much you've hurt him. You were still his everything. Insecure thoughts filled his overworked mind. Would you really go back to Carlos? He couldn't put it past you.

Maybe a few months ago he would know you wouldn't. He wasn't so sure now. You'd done things you swore you'd never do. Was your word even loyal anymore? Were you loyal? The silence goes on. You weren't even looking at him. You couldn't even muster up the courage to face what you'd done? He watched you stare at the floor, bottom lip slotted between his teeth, biting at the pink skin. They'd surely get swollen later. He waited, he would say for what, but he knew. He was waiting for you to offer sex. Offer your body to him like that was some kind of remedy and maybe it was.

He was weak to you, your body. You knew it, he knew it. You could stop him in his tracks like no other. Make his mind turn to mush with just a simple flirt. You were his drug, but he wasn't yours. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you stood up, walking over to Leon with a defeated posture. "Let me make it up to you..." You finally spoke the magic words. Those words were practically tattooed in his mind now. Your offer hung in the air, tempting and dangerous.

He couldn't help but feel like a pawn in your game, a game he never signed up for. The room echoed with the weight of the decision he was about to make, a decision that could either solidify your relationship or tear it apart completely. The silence lingered, a deafening sound that echoed the uncertainty of the future. The clock ticked, almost taunting Leon that he was running out of time.

And in that fragile moment, Leon found himself grappling with the choice between holding onto the love he had for you or letting go to preserve what was left of his shattered pride. He looked deep into your eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity, any glimmer of the person he fell in love with. You were looking up at him, he could get lost in your eyes. The longer he looked at you, the less everything seemed to matter. Was this really a big deal? It was just a phone call, right...? "Okay..." He nods with a weak voice.

The bouquet of flowers, filled with lilies and irises, now sat abandoned on the coffee table. They'll probably die before either of you gets to put them in a vase of water. Drops of water escaped the plastic encasing, mirroring the tears that threatened to spill from both your eyes. Leon's shoulders were slumped, wondering if he made the right decision and he allows you to lead him into the bedroom. It was midday, but it looked dark out already. Maybe it was supposed to rain.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ🩻 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎@ginswife @catsareawesomek @valsthea @mememgx @nuo-444 @hermizery @bearieio @coqvttes @kennedysbabygirl

#! 𖦹 ₊˚✧ re . #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 #re4 leon #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 x reader

[pinkwright]

if u rlly wanna kiss me | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — bestfriend!shuri x bar singer!y/n

trope — best friends 2 lovers

inspo — ride the dragon by fka twigs

warnings — shuri’s touchy, dom!shuri, fingering (r!receiving), light choking but also not rlly choking, reader is easily embarrassed (a lil projecting yk), they’re best friends, shuri is a lil mean n condescending, verbal kink (?), humiliation kink (again projection my apologies), slight love kink lol, dirty talk but its sweet imo, n i think that’s it.

a/n — completely forgot about taglists but u can send me an ask to be on it ! for now i'm just tagging the inspos n some of my fav accs <3

⟢˚ @rxcently @saintwrld @shurismainbxtch @playgurlxoxo @verachii @dejaonline @mbakuetshurisprincess @ppawmpkin

ஜ

if you really wanna kiss me, kiss me quickly (do it quickly, do it, do it, do it quickly, do it, do it)

“thank you everyone”, you laugh. your voice rings through the area as the claps ring out, cheers echoing through your favourite bar to perform at. a cheeky smile is spreading across your cheeks and your heart is pumping with adrenaline.

your heart races as you make your way down the stairs, looking into the dark eyes of your best friend as she holds her hand out for you to grasp. “brilliant,” she firmly pulls you close. “as always, s’thandwa.” murmuring the words against the shell of your ear.

the blood rushes to your face, shielded by the depths of the tones of your skin as you flash her a quick shy smile and clear your throat, muttering her thanks under your breath. you let her walk you to your dressing room, exchanging greetings with both familiar and unfamiliar faces, as you take to trying to ignore shuri’s warm firm press on the skin of your lower back.

the soft neo-soul track dampens with the soft click of your dressing room door, and you go to gather your belongings, you stop to reapply your lip gloss and lock eyes with shuri in the mirror. she’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed across her torso, and you find she’s watching you like a cat does her prey.

“you’re so devastatingly gifted, you know that?” she sings in that low alluring voice of hers. the beating of your heart rings in your ears as her words settle into a tight ball in the depths of your stomach. you can hear yourself giggle nervously as you avert your eyes, muttering out a weak, “stop”, as you put your lip gloss and the last of your stuff in your bag.

shuri laughs softly with a smirk on her pretty lips, pushing off the door as you approach her, “you never could take a compliment.” the roll of your eyes prompts her to laugh louder as she opens the door for you to make your way to her car. the ignition rumbles into a start then she's reversing into the route to your apartment.

she hums softly, embarrassingly, to your own track and you take the opportunity to admire her. shuri’s and your relationship was hard to describe; while traditionally you were best friends – the pet names, the touches, and the way she spoke to you, not to mention the constant tension, all said something completely different. the logical part of you defined it as shuri’s interest in you but the sensing side of yourself denied that idea vehemently – there was just no way the queen of wakanda, the black panther, and quite frankly, the light of your life was in love with you.

“y/n, baby, you good?”

you snap out of your thoughts and find that you’re parked outside of your building. shuri’s dark eyes are intense as they roam over your seated figure and you smile softly, definitely not into you, “yeah, are you coming up tonight?” you blink at the insinuation in your words. opening the door to jump out and keeping it slightly ajar to hear her hum of agreement.

before you can get pulled into your thoughts, your loft apartment door is closing and you're throwing yourself on your couch with a deep sigh. shuri places herself right next to you, her hand sliding over your thigh as she guides your leg over hers. your foot falls between her man-spread legs and she essentially draws you right against her, inadvertently spreading your legs as your head lulls to rest in the dip of her neck. she sighs as she mindlessly traces patterns on your heated skin, and you try, desperately, to tame the fire growing under your skin.

the silence is filled with a tension you can feel with every expanse of your lungs, every beat of your heart, and every pump of blood through your veins but also carries that familiar comfort and calm that comes with being around shuri. her hand switches from brushing along your inner calf to the muscles of your inner thigh, and your breath hitches as you subconsciously drop your legs open that much more – just enough for her to notice, surely. her hand pauses and you freeze at the chuckle that leaves her lips, moving into her form, as if you could disappear into her if you pressed close enough.

“something you want to say to me, y/n?”

your head draws further into her neck as you stammer out her name, your ribs feeling like cages to the heat overflowing within you, “i think you know.” your voice shakes as you hear her let out a click of disapproval.

“i can’t give you anything if you don’t tell me what i want to hear.” her voice has the condescending lure of a siren disparaging her victim. you whimper, she's being so mean. slowly, you bring yourself to straddle her and drop your gaze to her lips to avoid that look in her eyes, “you’re acting dumb on purpose.” you whine out in utter humiliation.

her hands grip your waist to still your gyrating hips, pressing you into her lap, “i need to hear you say it, angel. can you do that for me?” her lips are brushing your cheekbone, and she's squeezing your skin.

your lips part, wanting to hear more, and feel more, “shuri, please… please i need you.” you're breathless. the words spill out as desperate gasps of air and you're embarassed by how wet that makes you. you felt like you couldn't breathe, the heated atmosphere deliciously suffocating.

you feel her smirk spread as her hands slip down your thighs and play with the hem of your skirt, she hums as one hand makes its way to exactly where you need her. the other wrapping around your neck to bring your gaze to hers, she hates when your eyes aren’t on hers. you exhale a stuttered breath as you look into the intensity of them, she looks like she wants to ruin you. your pussy clenches as your hips buck, every breath shared between the both of you fuelling the pool between your legs.

those slender fingers slip into your panties and immediately slide over your clit, and you're moaning out. shuri's bringing your lips right against her own, not kissing you, just holding you there — breathing air into and stealing the air from your lungs, simultaneously giving you life, and taking it away from you.

“that’s it, my pretty fucking baby, let me feel you.”

her voice is coaxing you towards the ocean of your release and guiding you to rock your hips in time with her fingers. you’re whimpering, pleading with her to give you more, and more – you want everything she has to give. she chuckles, that condescending lilt humiliating you but simultaneously adding to the tightening in your core, she slips a finger into your entrance and you’re crying out into the swell of her lips, “please, please, please… shuri”.

“tell me you love me, s'thandwa, and i'll take you there.”

she starts to circle the swell of your clit with the pad of her thumb, your eyes momentarily shut, and all you can see, hear, and breathe is her. the exchange of breath, the coo of her voice, and suddenly you're insatiable — you need her. if you were more coherent you would have heard the mirrored desperation laced in her tone, like she needed to hear that to continue living, needed you to fuel her existence.

the warmth from the humiliation of feeling so exposed pushes you further, as she gives you a second finger and presses right against your spot. your hips are stuttering as you wetly gasp out her name. “i know, i know angel, that’s my spot, isn’t it? right there hm? that’s where you need me?”

your form twitches at her words, your pussy clenching around her fingers, drawing her deeper into you, wanting her home, “i love you; i love you so much, please shuri, please.” you’re crying out. your hand is gripping the arm working your dripping pussy, your hips canting to the pretty melody of her thrusts, and her eyes are boring into yours as you beg her to bring you over. her grip around your throat tightens slightly, her thumb brushing up and down the tendon, as she curls her fingers to brush your spot, her spot, and you’re stilling.

“ndiphilele s'thandwa sam' (come for me, my love).”

then you’re sobbing out your orgasm, your body is shaking violently, feeling shuri’s sharp intake of breath against your lips as she works and talks you through it. you’re panting into her mouth, tears collecting on the lashes of your shut eyes as you try to breathe through the aftershocks. you feel shuri’s praises rather than hear them, her hands caressing the bare expanse of your ribs, “there you go. breathe for me, nkosazana, come back to me.”

when you come to, shuri’s gazing at you so deeply that you’re forced to slightly pull back and look down at her lips again, “you haven’t kissed me”, you whisper. you roll your lips in embarrassment when she just tilts her head and smirks. “stop," you drag the syllable out, "i literally told you i love you while i was coming on your fingers, nigga. and you still haven’t kissed me.” you whine as you slightly push her shoulder.

“i love you, y/n. ungumoya endiphefumelayo, ungulukhanyo lwam' (you are the air that I breathe, you are [the giver of] my sight). the sole bearer of my soul," she pauses. her hand rises to gently grip yours, and bring it to rest on the beating of her heart, "and look at me. i need you to know that above all of that, uluvuko wam', sthandwa (you are [the cause of] my resurrection, love).”

she looks at you seriously, unrelentingly, wanting her words to sink into the crevices of your skin to carve themselves within your psyche, and your eyes instantly fill with tears as you whisper her name with a tremble.

a squeeze of your waist and she’s leaning in as you shakily exhale and, in a moment, her lips are on yours, moving in synchronicity, melting over yours like the sun into the horizon. shuri’s kissing you like she wants to breathe you in, trapping you in place so you have no choice but to take and take everything she’s giving you.

she loves you.

do it quickly ‘fore the end of the song, waiting a minute for your love.

ஜ

#pinkwrighting ⊹ ۪ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ. #see what i mean w the embarassment projection #shuri x black!reader #shuri smut #shuri udaku #shuri x you #shuri x reader #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #black panther wakanda forever #shuri black panther #princess shuri #letitia wright

[acesw]

The Grecos, Schneider, and her Religious Trauma

One of the characters I really find interesting is Schneider. There are strong signs that she has religious trauma, which ties really well with the neglect she's experienced growing up and the way this trauma reflects her behaviors and words.

The Grecos are known to be really religious, and they're quite devout to Christianity as a means of life. It does not mean that they wouldn't do things to ensure that they're able to at least eat. Living in Chicago of all places is already one struggle enough, making sure they get by despite having bad relationships with gangs adds so much.

Prior to moving, they were more devoted to God as coming from a community in Sicily. They moved because of how bad the poverty situation had been (the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s), hoping to seek a better life in America. Of all places though, they moved to Chicago, where there were crimes and gangs all about. This resulted to the Grecos having to pull strings to keep their head up the water, and they still practice Christianity as a means to maintain morale.

We then have Schneider. The youngest and most neglected child of the Grecos. She was barely fed and paid attention to among her 11 older sisters. The Narrator also notes that she was even neglected from the start, as she turned a year old before her father realized she wasn't baptized.

Now, there are two main instances that showcase Schneider's religious trauma peeking through are the traces "From One Castle to Another" and "Long Night Trip". Both of which are very much talking about Schneider's past. There are parts of the dialogue that stick out to me.

-From One Castle to Another

"It's impossible to keep every child well-fed. Schneider could not even get a piece of bread in the Eucharist. But a good daughter would not let anyone worry about her. She sat on the bench outside the church and hummed. She found a way out for herself."

"The Grecos are among them. They're covered by the dark cloud of long-handed umbrellas. [...] But you can't find Schneider. [...] It rains heavier. The priest opens his arms to embrace the sky, 'The Lord be with you.' " " 'And also with you.' Schneider responds in a voice that could hardly be heard. She puts her hand on her heart. This is the first time she responds to the Lord. And it will be the last."

-Long Night Trip

The Narrator talks about Schneider's slow descent into losing her faith in these conversations. She used to pray and hope that God would fix things and give an answer for her and her family's suffering. And all that happened was that it got worse.

It only ever makes Schneider question and doubt, and eventually she stops believing in God. But everyone around her, her family in particular, still maintains their strong belief that he'd guide them out of struggle. Meanwhile, she take things into her own hands for that matter.

And again, everyone would resort to praying, praying, and praying. Yet Schneider wouldn't dare try. Because if he listened to her this one time then they heard all the other times and never cared to help. That rubs salt in the wound.

So with this, we see how Schneider creates her newfound identity. She starts frequenting underground markets and doing certain odd jobs. She is able to make amends with other gang leaders and grow her own strong faction in Chicago.

All so she makes enough money for the rest of her family to eat and thrive. It showcases her sense of selflessness, her full care for her family despite how they treated her. She cares for them more than anything, because even with barely receiving love, they're the ones that raised her. Schneider actively does it all to prove that she can give.

Even in the main story there are those hints of that trauma seeping through. Throughout the game she refers to her bosses as "My Lord", a name that's usually reserved for God.

In the 'Green Oranges' segment of chapter 2, we see that Schneider's younger self describes America as a new world. A place of wonders, where blessings will be given and all sins will be forgiven. There, "God loves the world". Because back in Sicily, she believes that God does not love her and her family here. This ties back to the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s, where again, the poverty situation had been so bad. Not to mention the overpopulation and the natural disasters that came with it.

Meanwhile, her adult self is heavily injured from the gunshot wounds and Vertin stops shooting her. She expresses her frustration of being unable to die fast, which then turns to this: "Or did God finally forgive me...He allowed me...to stay alive!!"

"God would never make or guide one to that first action," Schneider thinks, because only she alone did it. She decided to step in, with no guidance of the God she once loved. The God that never forgave her.

The entirety of chapter 1 and 2 shows that her trauma runs really deep. The youngest and most neglected child turns into the most diligent and faithless Greco. She expresses her clear disdain for God, and does everything in her own power to do what "he never did for her and her family."

#reverse 1999 #schneider #schneider reverse 1999 #character analysis #she and marian definitely reunited with their family #they deserve their happy ending #schneider needs a hug

[jpmarvel90]

Saved

Masterlist Nat Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader

Summary: A girl with no memories but her time as a prisoner at Hydra, is found by the Avengers. Natasha instantly wants to help the girl to recover and enjoy a normal life.

Word Count: 6396

Nat's POV:

Another day, another Hydra base. This one was the home of their super solider programme. It's where the Winter Soldier was created. So, this base was personal. Steve had initially wanted Bucky to stay behind on this one, but he was determined to come and take down the base which had destroyed his life.

Whilst Steve and Bucky worked their way through the building to plant the explosives, Tony and I were exploring to get as much intel as possible. Tony had found their offices and was downloading as many of the files as he could whilst also collecting anything that looked of value.

I meanwhile had stumbled across what I can only describe as a hospital from a horror movie. I can see rooms with hospital beds, but they all had straps on them, medical tools filling trays alongside the beds. I try not to think about what had gone on here. I eventually reach what looks like a prison. There are a number of cells, but they are all empty. Well, I thought they were until I reach one in the farthest corner of the room.

I had to do a double take when I saw a young woman huddled in the corner of her cell. Her eyes were filled with absolute terror. I manage to unlock the door and slowly make my way towards her, but she shrinks back further, trying to get as far away from me as possible but the wall is preventing. "P-please. No. I-I can't take anymore." She begs, tears filling her eyes. My heart breaks for her. Looking at her body, I can see dark bruising and some lacerations. "It's ok. I'm not here to hurt you." I try to reassure her, keeping my distance so she can see that I'm not a threat.

"I'm here to help you. To get you to safety." I try once again, hoping that she can see that I only want to help. "Bombs are planted." Steve confirms through the comms. "I've got everything I can. Nat are you done?" Tony asks, but I ignore it, not wanting to scare the girl more. I felt like I had to help her. I have to save her. "My name is Natasha. What's yours?" She asks me. I activate my comms so the others can hear. That way they'll know I'm safe and that I can't talk.

"I. I don't know. I don't remember." She starts to cry at that and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her and protect her. "That's ok. We can help you with that. Can you come with me, and we can protect you. Make sure you're safe." I ask her, reaching out my hand to her, but keeping my voice as soft as possible. She looks between my hand and my eyes. The pain and fear are swirling through her blue eyes. "I promise we won't hurt you. Me and my friends are the good guys. We just want to help." I say with a smile, hoping to put her at some ease.

She goes to reach out, but she hesitates. "It's ok. You're safe now." I promise her. I can see those words have an effect on her and she reaches out her trembling hand to take mine. I slowly stand up and use my other hand to help her to her feet. She stumbles and I can see how weak she is. When was the last time she had a good meal or saw the sun?

"I've got you. You're ok." I continue to reassure her as we make our way slowly out of the base. As soon as we reach the outside, she holds her hand up to cover her eyes as she squints at the bright light. But I notice that she takes a deep breath too, as if she is savouring this moment. She surely can't have been kept in that cell the whole time, could she?

We get closer to the jet and her body tenses as she sees the three men waiting for us. "It's ok. They are my friends. They won't hurt you." I encourage her to carry on walking. Her grip on my hand tightens, but she trusts me enough to follow me onto the jet. Sensing her fear, all three of the men keep their distance. Even Tony is being considerate. I see her eyes go wide as we board the back of the jet. "Wow." She whispers as her eyes take it all in. "It's pretty cool huh. This is our quinjet. It's going to take us back to our home where we can get you checked out and looked after." I tell her.

She looks exhausted but I can tell that she's too scared to even attempt to sleep. I guide her to a chair and strap her in. I then grab a bottle of water and take it over to her. I had noticed how chapped her lips were, suggesting that she is dehydrated. "Here, drink this. We'll get you some nice food when we get home. I just need to go and talk to my friends. But I'll just be over there. You'll still be able to see me ok." I tell her with a soft smile. Her panicked eyes dart between me and the three men waiting for an explanation. But she nods, slowly bringing the bottle up to her lips. A relieved sigh escaping as she swallows the cool liquid.

I stand up and make my way over to the others. "Who's that?" Tony asks straight away. "I don't know. I found her alone locked in one of the cells in what seemed to be a medical area. She doesn't remember her name and she's clearly been mistreated for a long time." I explain. I can see pain on Bucky's face as he observes the young woman. "Do you recognise her?" I ask but he shakes his head. "No. But I know that they did some pretty horrible things to people in that place. She's probably been through hell and back." He says, pain radiating from his eyes.

"I'll start going through all the files we have to see if I can find anything on her whilst we head back. I'll also get Cho and Bruce ready for the new arrival. She'll need a full medical. Just from observation she's severely malnourished and has had some injuries." Tony offers up, heading to the other end of the jet, knowing that she needed space right now.

I slowly make my way towards her and take the seat next to her. "How are you feeling?" I ask her, but internally scold myself at such a stupid question. "Who are you?" She answers my question with one of her own. "We're the Avengers. We try to stop the bad guys." I explain loosely. "What are you going to do with me?" Her voice is so timid as she talks, her tone laced with fear. "We just want to help you. We'll help you heal and start a new happier life. No more being locked away or fearing for your life." I tell her with a wide smile.

She doesn't speak again, lost in her thoughts. But I can see that she is completely aware of her surroundings. At any noise, her eyes flick to the source, a small flinch appearing. I stay sat next to her as Steve flies us home. I want her to feel some comfort and know that we're not going to hurt her.

After a couple of hours, we start to descend into the compound. Her whole body tenses as we touch down and the door slowly begins to open. Wanda and Yelena are both waiting like they always do when I return from a mission. But they can instantly see to keep their distance at the added presence of our new guest. "The red head is my best friend Wanda, and the blonde is my sister Yelena." I explain to the girl as I help her out of her seat, showing that they are not a threat to her.

She nods slowly, but her gaze is searching every new thing that she sees. She was exhausted when we found her, I can't believe that her body is still functioning now when she's been so alert for the entire flight. Her body is in flight or fight and I can tell it's taking every ounce of her to be aware in case she needs to protect herself.

I guide her to the medbay where Bruce and Cho are waiting. I can feel that Wanda and Yelena are following behind, but the others have left to give us space. Thankfully, they don't follow us into the bay, choosing to observe from outside. "This is Bruce and Dr Cho. They are here to help you. They won't do anything to hurt you. I promise." I reassure her, directing her to the bed in the middle of the room. But her breathing is becoming ragged, and her eyes are frantic, full of fear.

"Hey, look at me. You're ok. You're safe. They won't hurt you." I reiterate, cupping her cheeks so her gaze is focused on me. "I'll be here every step of the way. Ok." I smile and she nods slowly. "Hi, Dr Cho is going to examine you if that's ok. We can get an understanding of your physical condition and how we can help you." Bruce explains, his soft voice seeming to calm the girl slightly.

Bruce leaves the room, pulling the curtain to give us privacy as Dr Cho begins her examination. I have to fight off a gasp when the girl's shirt is removed, and I see that her torso is covered in scars and new wounds. "Did they do this to you?" I ask her, an anger bubbling inside of me. Her gaze drops to her hands as she nods. I look at Cho who's got a look of sorrow on her face.

She carries out the rest of her examination and we both help her into a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I take the girls hand and give it a squeeze. "You're doing great. You're being very brave." I comfort her and I swear I see her lips turn up ever so slightly. I look through the window and see Cho and Bruce talking before they both re-enter. "Ok. We just need to do some blood tests and then we'll clean up your wounds." Bruce explains, turning to get a needle.

But as soon as the girl gets a glimpse of it in his hands, she starts to panic. "N-no. No. You said you wouldn't hurt me." She cries, looking between me and the needle in Bruce's hand. "He's not going to hurt you. He just needs to take some bloody to make sure you're not sick." I try to explain in an attempt to calm her down, but she continues to shake her head. "No. No more needles." She states at whisper. I look to Bruce who is unsure how to proceed. But we're interrupted by Tony entering.

"Wait." He says and we all turn towards him. Bruce places the needle back down on the tray and I feel the girls body relax. "I found your file." Her says looking directly to the trembling girl with a warm smile. "Your name is Y/n. Do you remember that?" He asks softly. She thinks for a moment but shakes her head. "That's ok. At least we know what to call you now. Are you ok if I share what I have here?" He asks her and she slowly nods.

"Y/n here is 22. She was taken by Hydra when she was 12." He explains to us, and I let out a small gasp. She's been in that hell hole for 10 years?! "She was a subject in their medical testing. Though it doesn't go into too much detail as to why. It just states that they were successful in removing all memory of her past." I feel such a sadness for Y/n. For her only memories to be of that base, being tested on daily. "They tested serums." Y/n's voice breaks the temporary silence, making us all look to her.

"Go on." Tony encourages. I've never seen him like this. He's so paternal towards her. It's warming to see. "There was a group of us. They tested the serums they wanted to use on their super soldiers. The serums I was given were meant to induce self-healing." She continues to explain, her gaze firmly fixed on her feet. There's a shocked silence to hear that. She was there purely as a test subject, presumably only there until they had succeeded, or she died.

"That's how you got these injuries? They were testing to see if it worked?" I ask when it finally dawns on me why she has so many injuries. We all watch as her head slowly moves in a nod. "After each test they would burn, cut and bruise me to see if it would generate any healing." She explains. I feel like I could cry. She was tortured for ten years. It's a miracle that she is even here with us today. Her body must have taken a hell of beating.

There is complete silence in the room as we take in what she just told us. We've seen horrible things in our time, but never seen one person go through so much for so long. Tony clears his throat and takes a careful step forward. "Y/n. I can promise you that we will never hurt you. We just want to help you, but we need to make sure you are healthy. If they injected you with a serum, the only way for us to ensure you're ok is to take some blood. I know you have had enough of needles, but once this is done, we'll take you to your new room." She speaks calmly and clearly which works.

"Ok." She agrees quietly. "I can stay with you if you like?" I offer. I want to be here for her. I want to help her heal, to protect her and never let her go through anything like this again in her life. "Please." Another whispered reply. I take her hand once again and give it a squeeze. "Keep your focus on me. Ignore what Bruce is doing. When we're done here, I can show you your new room and you can have a shower if you'd like?" I offer, trying to distract her. It only partial works as her eyes scrunch up as Bruce puts the needling into her arm. "You're doing great. Y/n." I tell her, squeezing her hand to offer her some comfort.

Once Bruce is all done, he cleans up Y/n's wounds and clears her to go to her room. She'll have to come back daily to get her dressings changed and her injuries checked and cleaned, but otherwise she was free. Something that obviously was alien to Y/n. "Come. Let me show you to your room." I tell her, standing up and waiting for her to follow. She does so slowly, her body clearly starting to shut down without her consent.

Thankfully, it's not far to her room. "Here it is." I say, opening the door for her. "My room is next door and Wanda's is across the hall." I point to the doors so she can see. I then step inside the room but she doesn't follow. "You can enter Y/n. You are free to come and go as you please. This is your home, not a prison." I explain to her, realising that she probably has no memory of her own room. Assuming she ever had one in her childhood. "There are some clothes in the wardrobe and draws, but we can go shopping to get you something you like in the coming days." I explain, opening the doors and draws to show her.

"This is your own bathroom. There is shower gel, hair wash, a toothbrush and toothpaste." I point out and then show her how to work the shower. I'll leave you to get cleaned up. But I can come back to get you for some dinner later this evening if you'd like. Though you are free to leave the room before hand if you want to." I say, trying to make it clear that she doesn't have to wait for command here. "Thank you, Natasha." She gives me the faintest of smiles and I find myself getting a little lost. She really is beautiful. "Please, call me Nat. All my friends do." I tell her and her smile grows slightly.

After leaving Y/n, Wanda and Yelena are quick to question me on the new addition to the compound. I struggle a little to hold back the emotion when telling them how I found her and what she's gone through. What has she done to me? I normally have complete control of my emotions, but when it comes to her, my feelings are so much stronger.

They both promise to support Y/n as much as they can without overwhelming her. Wanda is probably best placed to help her. She's been through something similar, although not to the same extent. I hope that in a few days when Y/n has settled more, that she might be comfortable to talk to her.

I speak with Tony, and we agree that it is probably best that we don't throw her in the deep end with a team dinner. Instead, we keep it to just four of us. Tony and I, who's she's familiar with, and Yelena and Wanda, who we want her to feel comfortable with. As she is so malnourished, Bruce has given us some indication on the foods and portions she should have over the coming weeks until she's able to regain her body weight. Wanda takes this as her mission to cook her the tastiest of meals with the limited ingredients.

Y/n is very quiet during dinner. Only talking if directly asked a question and only moving or doing anything if she is given approval. It's going to take time for her to realise that she doesn't need to have permission to do anything here. That she isn't confined to her room until someone tells her she can leave, or that she can't eat until she is given permission. But I know that I want to be there for her through every step of the way. Supporting her as best I can.

__________ 

Y/n has been here for a little of three weeks now. She's starting to look a bit healthier. Her wounds are healing nicely, she's putting weight on and she's getting colour back to her face. She loves spending time outside, basking in the sunshine. I guess if you've not seen it for 10 years, you don't want to miss out. She's slowly becoming more comfortable with the team. Everyone is great with her, not pushing her and understanding her boundaries.

She's probably closest with Tony, Wanda, and myself at the moment. But she's getting better with Yelena and Bucky. She still won't do much of her own accord. We make sure that she's not cooped up in her room or missing meals because she's waiting for someone to say it's ok for her to do so.

One night, I'm not able to sleep. My mind is lost in thought of Y/n. She fills most of my thoughts each day. We're getting glimpses of her true personality and I love it. She has a quick wit, though I can tell she is hesitant to use it. Scared of any repercussion. But it's becoming more apparent as the days go by. She's also extremely kind. She's so thoughtful of others. She's making such an effort to learn about everyone on the team.

Wanda and Yelena tease me. It's very clear that I like her. I tried to hide it after the first week, but it's no use. Wanda can literally read my mind and Yelena knows me better than anyone. Besides, I don't want to hide those feelings. Not from them anyway. I think it's far too early to even broach that topic with Y/n. At the moment, I want to be the best friend to her that I can be. We have time.

Whilst my mind is replaying Y/n's laugh on loop, I hear a muffled cry. I focus on the sound and notice it's coming from Y/n's room. I jump up and make my way next door. I knock on her door but get no response. "Y/n, it's Nat. Are you ok?" I question. Again, I don't get a response, but I can hear muttering and crying. Worry taking over, I open the door to be greeted by an empty room. The bed perfectly made.

I rush through the room to check the bathroom, but as I pass the bed, I hear her voice. My head turns and I see Y/n lying on the floor with a thin blanket draped over her. She's having a nightmare. I kneel down next to her and carefully place my hands on her shoulders. "Y/n. It's Nat. You're ok. You're just having a nightmare. Come back to me." I say as calmly as possible. Which is hard when I'm seeing her in such a panicked state. Not a split second later, her body shoots up and she starts to gasp for air, her eyes flicking around the room, trying to find something to ground her.

"Hey, Y/n. Look at me. Focus on me." I tell her, cupping her face so her eyes land on me. "You're safe." I remind her. "Try and take a deep breath with me." I instruct her, doing exaggerated breathing myself to guide her. It takes a while, but eventually she's able to copy and her breathing become less ragged. I slowly run my thumb over her cheek to help calm her as her eyes flick over her room once again. "The bed too soft?" I question and she nods, looking at her hands in shame.

I place my finger under her chin and raise it. "Don't be ashamed. I was the same after I got out of the red room. Took me a few months to get used to sleeping in a bed. I always felt like it was suffocating me." I share. She's listening to me intently as I speak. "I feel the same. I'm used to the hard floor." She mumbles. "How about this. Why don't we lie together in the bed. You don't have to sleep. We can just talk." I suggest. This helped me when Clint would sit and talk with me.

She nods and I help her to her feet. I then move to the bed and pull the duvet off. I grab the blanket and lie on the bed and tap the space next to me. I know the quilt will be too much to start of with, but she needs to keep warm. She takes the spot next to me and I hesitantly place my arm around her shoulders. I smile to myself when I feel her relax into my hold. I lay the blanket over us both and we spend the rest of the night just talking. It was probably the most I've heard her talk. She would ask questions about how I adapted after the red room, and I would offer tips on what might also help her.

After that night, our relationship only grew. She still slept on the floor at night, but I would always go to bed with her, and we'd lie in the bed until she was feeling like she was drifting off. I would leave and she would get comfortable on the floor. As time went by, she started to sleep a little. I was so proud of the progress she was making. "It's ok Nat. You can go to your own room tonight. I need to start doing things myself and it's not fair to keep you from your own room." She tells me which makes me frown. "But I like this time with you Y/n." I admit easily.

She smiles widely at that. "I do too Natasha, but you're not always going to be here. I need to get used to doing this on my own." She makes sense but I still pout at her. "Doesn't mean we can't still cuddle." She says shyly. "One more night?" I request and she sighs. "Ok." She chuckles, opening her door for me.

I'm loving the person that Y/n is becoming. Or returning to be, I guess. She's finding herself and it's a journey I'm proud to be a part of. Her and Wanda have grown close. They have a sisterly relationship. Wanda has helped her come to terms with what happened to her whilst she washeld captive by Hydra. They have a shared experience and I'm glad she's got someone that she can share that with.

She's grown more confident, and I was so proud of her when she started doing things of her own accord. We were sat watching TV and I noticed Y/n's gaze kept going towards the kitchen. I paused the movie and look to Y/n. "Everything ok?" I question and she quickly nods, returning her gaze to the TV. "You can tell me." I assure her and she huffs. "I uh. I want a snack." She admits as if she's just admitted to a felony.

"The kitchen is there, and Tony did the shopping this morning so there is plenty on offer." I encourage her, trying to motivate her, not giving her the go ahead to do it. This was the first time she shared a want, and I was keen for her to take it without needing permission.

I watch as she hesitates, Wanda and Yelena's gaze also on her. Slowly, she pushes up off the sofa and makes her way into the kitchen. She's in there for about 10 minutes before she comes out with a small KitKat bar in her hand. I was so proud as I watch her eat the chocolate bar. When she was done, I wrapped my arm around her and held her close. "You never have to ask to get food." I remind her and she slowly nods before resting her head on my shoulder.

__________ 

It's been three months since Y/n joined us and it has genuinely been the best three months. She's a completely different person to the one that arrived with us. She's still shy, but she understands her freedom and she is finding her footing. She spends a lot of time with Tony in his lab. Turns out she's got a technical brain and loves working on his gadgets. The whole team have fallen in love with her. She's like our own personal ray of sunshine. Which, considering how she was when she arrived, is a miracle.

I think it is safe to say that I am in love with her. I want to spend all my time with her. She's the last thing I think of before I go to sleep and the first thing in the morning. I'm infected by Y/n, and I love it. I just don't know how to approach her about it. I don't want to scare her away. But I'm like 90% sure she likes me too. We've had a couple of moments where we've almost kissed, but it's never resulted in anything, and I never want to pressurise her to do anything.

Our little bubble is burst though when I'm sent on a week long mission. I've been away for day missions, but nothing longer. I've always been home by the evening, having a snuggle with Y/n before bed. I'm going to miss being with her and I can tell that there is an anxiety for her too. But maybe this will be good. It'll give me time to think clearly about how I'm going to approach this whole situation.

Y/n's POV:

The first couple of days of Nat not being here were hell. I realised that she was my security blanket. I knew I was safe if she was around. Don't get me wrong, I know none of the others would hurt me, but with Nat, I feel completely safe and protected.

It's been a bit of a whirlwind three months. I never knew that life could be like this. All I knew was the darkness of the place I was held. The pain and fear that I lived in constantly. I don't know why I kept fighting to stay alive. The easier option was to let go. But I didn't. Now I think it's because deep down, I knew I hadn't met Nat yet and she was meant to change my life.

She has been so patient with me, helping me acclimatise to being 'normal'. She's always there to support me, allowing me to find my way in my own time. In the odd moments that I'm not with her, I crave to be with her. It's a feeling I'm not familiar with. I don't have it with anyone else here. Yet I like all of them. They have become a family, something I didn't know about. Or at least didn't remember. But with Nat it's different. It's like everything I do is for her.

Seeing her smile and laugh is my favourite thing. To most people she has this tough exterior, but I've never seen that directed at me. I've never felt anything but kindness from her. She's a big softy towards me. Though I've learnt not to say that to her. Sam made a joke about it and he was swiftly on his ass. Much to everyone else's amusement.

After Nat had been away for a couple of days, I decided that I couldn't mope around without her. She wouldn't want that. Instead, I spent time with Wanda and Yelena. They both had become like sisters to me. Both protective, but also quick to make fun of me in a light-hearted way. I love the relationship that I have with them, and it's them that keep me sane for the rest of the week.

It's Friday and we've been notified that Nat and Steve are returning from their mission. I jump off the sofa and run towards the Quinjet landing pad. But as I get closer, I see Bruce and Cho waiting. "What's wrong?" I ask Tony who's just joined us. "Nat's hurt." Is all he says. I feel like someone has just kicked me in my stomach, making all the air leave my lungs.

I just stand there as I watch the jet land and Nat be rushed off the jet on a gurney. As she passes me, I rush to keep up, not wanting to be far from her. She looks in a bad way. There is so much blood. Too much blood. I watch as Bruce and Cho rush around trying to fix her. I can see from the machines that her heart rate is becoming thready.

I step forward and hold her hand, feeling her cold skin which sends a wave of panic through me. "Please don't leave me." I beg her as tears start to fall. "Y/n, we need you to stand back." Bruce asks quietly, but I don't want to let her go. I can't lose her. He asks again and I know I need to let him do his job. My mind is focusing on her being with me, alive and healthy. She has to survive. I go to drop her hand but there is a soft glow which makes Bruce and Cho stop in their tracks. "Y/n what's going on?" Tony asks me with a panicked voice. "I-I don't know." I respond, fear washing over me.

"Oh my God look." Tony points out towards Nat. I turn to see what he's pointing too, but I start to feel lightheaded. My sight starts to blur and all the sound around me becomes muffled and the next thing I know, I'm surrounded by darkness.

_________

"Please wake up." I hear a distant, pleading voice. But I still only see darkness. "You told me not to leave. I'm asking you the same thing." The voice begs. Is that Nat? Is she ok? Confusion washes over me as I try to figure out what's going on. Sounds become more prominent, and I can hear the slow beeping of a machine. "Y/n?" The comforting voice calls. "Her heart rate is changing." I hear a male voice now speak. "Is that a good thing?" Nat questions. Why can't I see anything? "Yes, very good. It's getting stronger." The other voice confirms.

I start to feel a pain in my head, and I squint my eyes to stop the pain. "She moved." Nat points out. Slowly, my eyes start to open, but the bright light only aggravates the pain in my head. "The lights. Dim them." A third voice says. As the glare of the light reduces, I open my eyes further and they land on Nat. I quickly sit up, shocked that she's beside me, conscious. "Whoa! Stay down Y/n." She tells me, gently pushing on my shoulders. "You're alive." I whisper and she nods. "I am. But you need to take it easy." She tells me in a warning voice.

I look around me and see that there are wires attached to a drip and a heart monitor. I then meet the concerned gazes of Tony, Wanda, and Yelena. "What happened? Last I remember you were the one in the medbay." I say, trying to sit up. "You healed me." Nat says with a look of disbelief on her own face. "Excuse me? I what?" I question, not sure that I heard her properly. "You healed me. But it drained you and you passed out. You've been unconscious for two days, your heart barely beating." She explains.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asks, stepping forward. "My head hurts, but other than that ok." I admit and he nods. "It seems like one of the serums they injected you with enabled you to heal others. They were so focused on self-healing, that they didn't even think to check for that." Tony says. "I healed you?" I turn back to Nat asking for clarification. "Yeah. Not even a scar left on me." She says holding up her shirt to show where two bullet wounds once were. I reach out and run my fingers over her abs in disbelief.

"I thought I lost you." I agonised, remembering the fear I felt that she was slipping away. "I can't live without you." I admit through tears. "And you don't have to. I'm here. Safe and sound because of you Y/n. You saved me." Nat says taking my hand. I hadn't noticed that everyone else had left and it was just the two of us now. "I owed you after you saved my life." I tell her through a watery chuckle. "I would save you ten times over Y/n. You have changed my life. When I woke up and I saw you on the bed next to me barely clinging to life yourself, my heart broke." She expresses, her own eyes glossing over.

"Y/n, you mean so much to me. You have changed my life since you came into it. I can't hide my feelings from you anymore. I love you. I'm in love with you. I know you might not feel the same, but I have to tell you. I can't bare the thought of something happening to one of us and you not knowing the depth of my feelings." I'm in shock as I listen to her speak.

Is this what I've been feeling for her too? Love? I can see pain start to grow in her eyes as I don't respond, the shock almost incapacitating. Tears fall down her cheeks as she goes to leave, but thankfully, my body reacts, grabbing her hand and pull her back. Before she can even say anything, I cup her face and bring her towards me so I can connect our lips.

The sensation is electric as if the world had disappeared and it was just the two of us in this moment. Our lips move in perfect harmony. Nat's hands rest on my hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. My whole body feels a warmth rush over it, butterflies erupting in my stomach as our lips dance together, sharing every feeling we need to share in this moment. As our movements stop, I rest my forehead against hers. "I think I love you too. I've had this feeling I've not been able to understand for a while. But that kiss just explained everything." I say with a laugh as Nat's smile grows.

She leans in and kisses me once again, this one more hungry as my back hits the hospital bed. She deepens the kiss, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, as the passion and desire between us intensified.  I let a small moan out into the kiss as she presses her body against mine. That noise causes her to pull back slightly, and I let out a little whine. "Patience my love. This is all new for you and I want to do this properly." She tells me, which causes me to raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. "I want to go on a date with you." She smirks.

Thank God, she made me watch endless rom coms these last few months or I'd have no clue how this whole thing was meant to go. But over time we grew together, not rushing our relationship. It was perfect to me. When I looked in her eyes, all I saw was pure love and I hope she saw the same in return.

She made me unbelievably happy. There was a time that I never thought I wouldn't get a happy ending. A time when I questioned my purpose. But now, led here in Nat's arms, feeling safe, protected, and loved. I finally understood why I had to keep fighting. I needed to get to her and live our lives together in happiness. 

#natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #black widow x reader #black widow

[impactedfates]

hello! jing yuan meeting his kid he had from a previous relationship?

so jing yuan had a previous lover, he didnt visit her until he learned that she was in a bad situation/ struggling with poverty

so he goes to visit and sees a kid that looked like him that he never knew of, they were neglected by their mother while he was gone all these years

reader is the kid, thankss

★ A/N: I decided to mash these 2 into one as I feel like the reader would've gotten trust issues if their mother neglected them, not to mention what if the mother lied to their kid painting JY (their father) as a bad guy :0 Anyways, I hope the anons don't mind I merged the requests into one

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial + Hurt/Comfort?

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Scenarios

☆ Warnings: Readers mother is neglectful/a toxic mother (+ alcoholic)

★ Extra: Reader is young (11-12) // Jing Yuan trying his best to heal whatever his ex partner did // Also 2 posts in one day haha, had a bunch of free time during the storm

I feel like for Jing Yuan to not visit his past lover nor have her contacts, she'd have to already be a bad partner. What I mean is, Jing Yuan seems like the type to even after a break up, not want it to affect his relationship with the other person UNLESS said other person was toxic. If that makes sense???

But anyways, I don't know if that mattered. Let's assume that a friend of said ex partner went to Jing Yuan for help. Explaining her situation in hopes Jing Yuan would be willing to help.

He is, much to the delight of the friend. However he underestimated just how bad the situation is, as when he went to check. The house is in shambles.

Dirty dishes building up in the sink, trash on the ground it's hard to move around in, there's a kid and aeons it smells like such dog sh-

Wait a kid!?

Jing Yuan stares at you, you stare at him. It's just...silence. Despite everything and how long it may be. He knows that you're his kid. And after getting over the initial shock. He gently calls you over, but you refuse. Shaking your head and even creating a bigger distance.

He lets out a small sigh, unsure on what to do but just decides to look for your mother again. Telling you to please stay put, and once he does find the mother. Passed out on the couch with alcohol bottles around, he gets an even better view on what you seem to have went through.

Things have been dealt with, the mother is gone and in jail for child negligence which leaves you with your biological father who is more than happy to look after you.

At the same time though, your mother had both neglected your needs. Giving just the bare minimum to keep you alive and had fed you lies. The man in front of you may be your father but you can't help but believe the harsh words your mother told you.

But to your surprise, he's nothing like how she described. He's...gentle...patient...and never raises his voice at you. Even when you make a mistake and start tearing up ready to apologise, he's already brushing it off. Saying it's fine, not to worry.

Jing Yuan isn't bothered by your behaviour at all. He understands and knows. He takes a few days off work, to just ensure you're all better. You get new clothes, a big meal prepared for you and a new room. It's such a...new feeling.

Jing Yuan doesn't force you to do anything, doesn't force you to hug him or be near him. All he asks is that you stay safe in the house. He doesn't outright ask for you to trust him just because he's your father, he gains your trust. No matter how long it'll take for you to be comfortable around him.

Even when he needs to go back to work, he asks you if you're more comfortable to come with him to work and he can set up a place where you can relax and do whatever you wish. Or if you'd rather be at home. If you choose to just stay at home, he'll order some guards to ensure your safety and if Yanqing has gained your trust in this time. He'll ask the young boy to be your babysitter even if your age difference isn't that large.

Overall, Jing Yuan is definitely surprised to find out he has a child but that surprise turns into unhappiness when he finds out how you've been treated. He ensures your mother gets put in jail for her negligence then takes you in. He doesn't force you at all to trust him, he slowly earns it and whether or not you do end up trusting him eventually. He doesn't mind either outcome.

Because in the end, he doesn't care if you actually trust him or not. What he cares about is if you're healthy and happy. That's his main priority at this moment and time.

If/When you are finally ready, he's there with open arms. Happy to have you see him as a father figure and happy he can heal whatever damage his ex partner ever did to you.

He's happy because you're happy.

I started basing this slightly off a book I read for school as I thought it fitted haha. I'm unsure what to think of this but hopefully it's okay...

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #platonic hsr #hsr platonic #Jing Yuan x Reader #Jing Yuan x You #Platonic Jing Yuan x Reader #Platonic Jing Yuan x You #🎭 masked fools

[stay-tiny-ville]

Hwang Hyunjin

Summary ~ lovely boy :( (Or dating head cannons for Hwang Hyunjin)

A.N. - ONE MORE TO GO WHOOOOOOO

A.N. 2 - if my describing of your relationship growing up didn’t make sense I’m sorry I don’t know how to word it 😭😭😭

———————————————————

Muse, love, beautiful, dove, love, angel, Cara Mia, mon Cher are a few names he’d give you def a lot of “my love”s in another language

Ive heard some mixed opinions (well not that many but a couple) saying that he would be reserved and only lovey behind closed doors

However i argue the opposite and agree with the positions on him being a true hopeless romantic at heart

Tall boy loves holding you as you sleep

Obviously wakes before you (Probably) with his horrendous schedule and just has a true “this is life, and i am living and loving being alive” moment when he just gets to look at you all peaceful and beautiful in his arms

Covers the corners of things with his hand so you don’t hit your head

Stfu he would paint you

Your hands, your face, you two together, or he would take a stab at paintings that are simply based on the memory/emotion but not paint the memory (like he would do that thing where people can see sounds and he would try to imagine your laugh and paint it-i'll die on this hill)

Taught you how to waltz anD DANCES WITH YOU ON THE BACK PORCH UNDER THE MOONLIGHT SOB

So dramatic like will burst into tears if he gets a paper cut or stubs a toe (i mean yeah it hurts but he’s dYING)

Unlike some of the members like Chan, he’s always with you, like you’re never alone and if he’s at rehearsals? Oh look, you’re here too. Meeting with JYP? Oh, can you come in too? He’s going shopping? He’s at the red carpet for versace? He’s-

You get it

Spiritually and physically attached

Spins you all the time

Context: every single time you come out of the bedroom after getting ready to go out or simply just coming out of the room he takes your right hand with his right hand and twirls you into his side before a required temple kissy and moves on/out the door

Required ritual or the world ends

I imagine you two as childhood best friends (yes, THAT trope) and i don’t necessarily think of it as one of you had a crush on each other as you grew up, you just grew up together in love as if it’s what you were taught to do

When you went to school and learned about the different types of emotions or had the healthy relationship talk you didn't think anything of it

I didn't know what love felt like until I turned 18 and you thought this adoration was a normal feeling

Until your friends talked about their lives and you realized most people don't have a bond like you do, most people don't feel like you do about your soulmate Jinnie

You didn't feel this way about the crushes you’ve had previously

Normal people don’t always put their one friend before everybody else

Either you went straight to Hyunjin and talked about it because you could talk to him about anything or not, he would realize the same thing, i can’t say if it was slower or faster than you, it depends i suppose

But i imagine the transition was just from the average hugs and hand holding and kisses on the forehead that were just normal things with no thought behind them became ones with love behind them

Puts you before himself

You’re cold means trade cold for his jacket he will suffer instead

You’re sick he’ll sacrifice his health to cuddle and coddle you all day long

You haven’t been eating well/at all he’ll give you his food after rehearsals

Lays his head on your chest

He’s baby :(

SLEEP ON YOUR CHEST AAAAAAAH

Like I haven’t thought about who cuddles how and who is big or little spoon but Hyunjin loves to just lay on your chest or lap

HES BABY

Please he’s dress you up in rich ass clothes even if it looks putrid together

The softest with you when you’re upset :(

Like you’d just not be doing too good be it sad or bad day and he could tell because you weren’t responding as energetically to his jokes and funny haha’s (please that autocorrected to Gaga’s) and his smile turns into a frown and he’d stop you from walking away by grabbing your shoulder that was farthest from him and turned you to look at him

When you kept your head low he ducked to meet your eyes and the sadness/tiredness in the made him sad :(

Takes care of you all day and sits with you on the floor in front of the couch on the fuzzy (I imagine white faux fur bc he’s bougie) rug

You sit in his lap facing him while his back is against the couch and he doesn’t break eye contact to let you know he’s listening so whenever you look back up at him from messing with his clothes he’s looking right at you

Please he’s so baby I could write so much more about hopeless romantic baby Hyunjin

ASO RQ I AM FOREVER OBSESSED WITH BOTH RED HAIR HYUNJIN (which is a trade of passage for Stays at this point) AND MAXIDENT TASTE (which is such a banger I will die on this hill again) SHORT BLUE HYUNJIN HAIR AAAAAAAH

N e ways he’s baby and so so lovely I love

#how many times did I say baby start a counter lmao #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin x reader #skz x you #hyunjin x you

[deldeldel90]

Aurelia's backstory just makes me so upset for her, like imagine you're cursed by your stepfather, something undoable is done to your body that you weren't even aware of- and EVERYBODY seems to take his side.

He remains King. Your mother stays married to him. You get weird looks whenever you shout at him to stay away, whenever you return his gifts. You burn the books he gives you, and boo-hoo because of that.

She's not daughtering as she should. Call the Royal Guards for that.

"give it to me when I can actually taste shit again,'" you hiss, throwing the box of Monochrome chocolates back to the table. He ducks his head in shame. You feel the burn of anger surge within you.

You don't have any friends, especially after what happened. You're just irritable all the time, your jokes a little too mean, sense of humor kinda dry and unfunny. You try to be nicer, kinder, sweeter.

You want people to like you. C'mon, you're, what, eighteen? Forgive you for wanting some company.

You have Reneé. Reneé sticks by you. Your best friend. She's the one who invited you to the Club... and the Club becomes your friends, the closest thing you've got to a family. They're really the only place you're allowed to visit.

Everybody... Likes you. Because you're nice. Friendly. Sweet. You blend in with the crowd of other girls. You think they'd ought to speak up more. If they were you, and if you could, for once, drop that smile, she would've done that.

Then a girl appears, running in the night. Running away from some ball or wake. Something about her brother. She's sweet, truly. She's the sweetest. The nicest. The kindest- and you, you can't keep up.

The real kicker is the question of her not even being cursed in the first place. This is the Sanctuary for the Cursed, for the Outcast of society. And what is she the outcast of, the Dress Department?

She's got loving siblings, some boring prince to marry, a good relationship with her kinda-weirdo dad. With a crafty hand and a somewhat bashful smile, she charms every person she meets. Yeah, yeah, Aurelia's jealous. She's fucking jealous.

Later on, when she's royalty messed up beyond repair, she learns the most annoying part of it all: it's real, in that Gwen really is the sweetest, the kindest, she's truly a good person, something Aurelia just. Isn't.

She goes home. Home doesn't feel like the right word to describe it anymore. She flops onto bed, the beads of her necklace cold against her collarbone.

Aurelia searches for a justification, for any remains of the actually likable persona she put on. There's nothing.

There's just herself. And who will like that?

#cursed princess club #Aurelia hours #cpc aurelia #i love aurelia

[familyabolisher]

Do you think any of the frameworks you've developed for analyzing love in TLT could be applied to Pyrrha's relationship to cam/pal? Since Nona doesn't understand it well, it's hard for me to get a handle on how those characters relate to each other, but I was wondering where it might stand on what the series considers "perfect love," what the significance of its presence/ambiguity is, etc.

I’m really locked on to this idea of illegibility, actually, and the kind of work that gets done in Nona to problematise efforts to easily name, define, & categorise a relationship or set of relationships. I’m thinking of what Muir said here:

It’s a very strange household. And they are a found family, but I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that in the last movement of the book Nona questions what that even means—their motives, what they all truly wanted out of each other, their pretenses: are they a family, or are they all just a psychosexual mess of roleplaying and bad meals? (The answer is yes.)

and like, her suggestion that ‘family’ can plausibly be collapsed into a ‘psychosexual mess of roleplaying’ and that the drive of Nona is less about asking whether Cam/Pal/Pyrrha/Nona ‘are’ a family as much as it’s about asking what it actually means to identify them as such; and particularly to identify them as such in a text which does very significant work elsewhere to identify ‘the family’ as a site of violence, a mechanism by which particular forms of violence can be enacted. I’m honing in on that ‘last movement of the book’ comment to say that, like—so, the two narratives in Nona (the ‘main’ narrative ie. Nona et al. on Lemuria, and the John narrative) are spliced together, right, so it makes sense to try and read them as though they’re in dialogue with one another, and the obvious entrypoint for doing so is the fact that they’re both working as an account of the ‘creation’ of Alecto; first through John literally creating her and then through Nona remembering his having done so and thus rebecoming what she had forgotten she was. What does it mean to ‘create’ Alecto?—what are the conditions that Alecto’s creation ushers in, what are the conditions that her creation does away with? The ‘last movement’ of the book is to ‘create’ Alecto for the second time—so, what does Alecto represent, and what about her ‘creation’ leads the text to ask what it means to describe something as a ‘family’ in the first place?

The reason I’m drawn to this reading of Cam/Pal/Pyrrha as like, ultimately illegible, incoherent in that we as audience cannot coherently put words to it and make sense of it in the language readily available to us, is because I think the text understands these processes of ordering, taxonomising, delineating, and categorising as tactics of fascism. This is a tension also at play in Lolita; Humbert ‘orders’ and constructs his narrative via the available tools of literary discourse and similarly constructs his ‘Lolita’ as a labyrinth of cultural references and taxonomies; but Dolores is a ‘Haze,’ Annabel Leigh is a ‘tangle of thorns,’ there exists a being who is able to remain indistinct and impenetrable in a narrative which enacts violence on her by trying to make taxonomical sense of her. Coherence and legibility are mechanisms of visibility; under fascism, to be easily made sense of can be dangerous. The first two books were all about coherence, legibility, interpellation, and the consequences of Living In A Society; what it means to ‘be’ or ‘become’ a cavalier, what the necromancer-cavalier relationship ‘means,’ what Lyctorhood ‘means,’ how these relations of hierarchised sexuality and the interpersonal relationships articulated within the normative language given to them exist to shore up conditions of imperialism. This question of ‘ordering’ goes right down to eg. enumeration (First, Second, Third, etc.) and pretty tightly contained and atomised cultural associations, and the fact that that enumeration can be traced back to Alecto—

D’you know why you’re really the First? Because in a very real way, you and the others are A.L.’s children … There would be none of you, if not for her.

—which cribs this passage, from Lolita:

‘[…] for I must confess that depending on the condition of my glands and ganglia, I could switch in the course of the same day from one pole of insanity to the other—from the thought that around 1950 I would have to get rid somehow of a difficult adolescent whose magic nymphage had evaporated—to the thought that with patience and luck I might have her produce eventually a nymphet with my blood in her exquisite veins, a Lolita the Second, who would be eight or nine around 1960, when I would still be dans la force de l’âge; indeed, the telescopy of my mind, or un-mind, was strong enough to distinguish in the remoteness of time a vieillard encore vert—or was it green rot?—bizarre, tender, salivating Dr. Humbert, practicing on supremely lovely Lolita the Third the art of being a granddad. In the days of that wild journey of ours, I doubted not that as father to Lolita the First I was a ridiculous failure.

—very evenly ties together ideas of reproduction as imperial sustention figured in the language of sexual assault. The point is: as far as the empire is concerned, processes of ordering and taxonomising are equivocal to the mechanical maintenance of conditions of fascism.

Conversely, Nona is a text about when John’s precise demarcation of the world starts to fail and people have to make sense of themselves between the cracks; from Pyrrha as both failed cavalier and failed Lyctor to Cam and Palamedes and then Paul as if not ‘failed’ then at least a new ordering of necromancer/cavalier-ism to the Tower Princes as John’s kind of scrambling effort to rearticulate hegemony post-losing all but one of his Lyctors. Regarding how we are to read Cam/Pal/Pyrrha, I think it’s pretty clear that the text understands the obligations, normative assumptions and expectations, and material consequences of normative kinship relations identified as ‘family’ as part and parcel with the social ordering of a fascistic imperial hegemony; Kiriona, Alecto, and Harrow make up the three key points of contact for this reading, though it’s pretty diffuse across the whole work. We see kinship relations as structuring imperialist hierarchies and we understand the currency of those hierarchies to be death/abuse/sexual violence/totalised control, articulated most profoundly through Kiriona; we also see the destruction of social formations as part and parcel with conquest—

Palamedes said mildly, “You know we’re conversant with the concept of family in the Nine Houses, right?” Pash seemed genuinely surprised. “Why the hell would it matter to you? [...] You don’t give a fuck about families when you’re carving them up—”

—this of course being in keeping with the general conditions of mixed cultures, mixed languages, variances on kinship structures, refugees seemingly thrown together on Lemuria. The bolstering of the social articulations of the conquerors and denaturing of the social articulations of the conquered is rendered as a tactic of conquest; ‘family’ here is figured as a cudgel of imperialism.

Diegetically, as I said, Cam + Pal + Pyrrha + Nona’s social arrangement is not ‘normative,’ neither in the fact that others on Lemuria can make easy sense of it (and thus attempt to do so by referring to peripheralised and marginalised social relations ie. sex work) nor in the fact that they can coherently make sense of themselves via the imperial taxonomy (is Pyrrha a Lyctor greatest thread in the history of forums). Nor is it normative on our end; relative to the nuclear family structure, it’s the ‘wrong’ number of parents, the ‘wrong’ configurations of gender, the ‘wrong’ configurations of blood relation (Nona is a ‘child’ but not an ‘heir’ to anything and not a blood relation of either; Cam and Palamedes as ‘parents’ are blood-related), even the ‘wrong’ overall kinship relations—I put ‘child’ and ‘parents’ in quotations there precisely because I don’t think they’re conditions uncritically reified by the narrative as much as they’re discursive gestures made for the sake of being problematised. Is Nona their ‘child’ in a text where to be the ‘child’ of someone means to be what Kiriona is to John? Is this a ‘family’ when ‘family’ is the mechanic of imperial refortification? Again, like—what does it mean to call them a family at all?

‘Family’ is a label we deploy to give legibility to relations that we are otherwise struggling to make sense of. Setting aside Paul for the moment because I don’t quite know what to do with them and probably won’t have a Take that I can confidently commit to until after Alecto—I think the kind of difficulty that the text has in articulating exactly what Cam + Pal + Pyrrha ‘had’ between them that we see in that final scene is intentional, and I think it’s best understood left that way rather than wrangled into a taxonomy that the rest of the text is v determined to critically unpack. So to answer your question, I think the ambiguity is key—one overarching theme of the series is how people can love each other and articulate that love when the language available for them to do so carries obligations of disparate power, hierarchy, serves a particular purpose that we come to understand as ethically unconscionable; whether that love has to be made sense of within hierarchy, or contravene it, or try and stake a place outside of it. Cam + Palamedes + Pyrrha become the next stage of development in the unravelling of such a discourse; to try and make coherent sense of them could all too easily mean falling back on the language that the text works to identify as socially constructed and thus as limited, and thus imposing those limitations.

#ask #tlt #nona the ninth spoilers #i have a second thing to add here but i think it works better as its own reblog so i'll circle back

[mammonswhore]

The Day Before the Test

tags: Satan x afab!fem!mc.

warnings: cockwarming, soft dominant behavior, studying, overstimulation, established relationship, very fluffy and domestic at the end.

"Fuck..." Satan grunts as his fingers sink on MC´s flesh as she tries to keep steady and keep on reading. That´s what this was all about.

"I can´t... Is too much" She whines, bouncing (or trying to do so) on a foolish attempt to get some sort of movement or reaction from him. Sadly her attempts were shut down as Satan´s fangs sank on her shoulder making her yelp in pain.

"You look so whorish like this, love." He says sadly, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him sideways. "I am sorry but you should´ve studied and I wouldn´t have to be doing this."

His voice sounds silk smooth, as if he were soothing the scars of his nails on her hips. He sounds angelic even for someone born from wrath. Satan is lovely, he is a gentleman and a man of honor so he can´t let his precious girlfriend to fail.

"It´s for your own good" He said when he proposed his idea. It worked, it really did. Satan promised MC to try on tail fucking if she passed her test with more than average and since he is a caring boyfriend he offered himself to help. MC thought of flashcards, timers, his own notes even but not cockwarming him for two and a half hours as she read and took notes from her study books.

Tears accumulate on her eyes, it´s been two hours of shaking, whining and pleading yet he seemed so calm and composed. MC couldn´t take it anymore, a choked sob escaping her as she collapsed on his desk.

"The mitochondrion has two membranes, one internal and one external, in the middle of them there is an intermembrane where there are protons that adhere to the smallest proteins to pass to the internal membrane and reach the mitochondrial cristae... Please... Please just..." MC talks between cries, begging for him.

There were no other words to describe it other than pathetic yet for Satan it was lovely, soothing even. Slowly he caressed her cheek and nodded with a smile. Satan pulled his chair back, his hands traveled to the back of MC´s thigh as he quickly stood up making her tears flow as a loud painful erupted from her throat.

"Can you walk?" He asks softly, putting her down to the floor and twirling her to face him. She nods and walks to Satan´s bed, a few steps that were quick yet they seemed like an eternity for both of them. MC sat on the edge of the bed looking drained and oh so divine. Satan could swear he could gobble her up, to him there was nothing more heavenly than her.

"Change of idea... You are going to ride me because I am still not sure if you have learned enough. Hop in, pretty girl." He smirks as he sits down and pulls her by the waist, she whines in complain and positions herself to sink him in in one sitting.

Satan interlocks their hands together as his free hand pushes her down on him, she moans and babbles little thank you´s repeatedly as Satan did all the effort of bouncing her up and down on him.

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, Satan´s moans were muffled as he bit down on MC´s breasts, twirling his tongue around her nipple. She shudders as she bounces herself in, pushing him down to the bed, he complies and is mesmerized with the view on top of him.

She bewitched him in all senses, his mind clouded with the fervor of having her in such a filthy manner. She was the only delusion he could fully indulge in without losing his pride, his affection knew no bounds if it was his one and only lover.

Satan grabbed MC´s waist as he started thrusting into her at a hurry, he couldn´t concentrate on anything anymore as she stabilized herself on his chest. Her back arched at the pleasure, as soon as he was sure she wouldn´t fall off, his hand traveled from her waist to her center to stimulate her so her walls could suck him dry. MC´s body jolts briefly as her orgasm approaches, her whines and moans get louder as she pleads mercy from him.

To her, Satan was completely lost on his element. Some of his blonde hair strands were sticking to his forehead, green eyes half lidded as he only stared at her in awe, mouth open gasping for air, cheeks flushed red, his neck was full of bites and scratches and so were his shoulders, MC could see exactly were their skins met. His free hand sank on her flesh, his grip cutting a little wound on her body making MC cry in pain. The feeling of her orgasm hitting her as pain and pleasure became one, the sensation only being topped with the overstimulation of Satan thrusting inside of her at a ferocious pace to reach for his own orgasm with a loud squealing noise.

Both of them panted as MC´s body gave up completely and fell on top of Satan who remained quiet as he hugged her tightly feeling himself go soft inside of her.

"Was this a heads up for when I have to study 'how to seduce a demon to give me his kids' lesson 1: be me" MC says tiredly, making Satan laugh and squeeze her.

"Shut up, if you want my kids so badly then better get studying because I will not have kids with a lazy procrastinating ass like yours." Satan jokes back getting himself a lazy slap on his chest, making him chuckle.

"Fine! But only because our kids will hate me if I make them stupid."

#satan is the type to crack a joke or two after a quick session #obey me smut #.val thirst's⛈ #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me satan x mc #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me writing #obey me shall we date satan

[sugar-grigri]

I think I remember you making references to Fire Punch in a few analysis post so I assume you've read that one, but have you read Goodbye Eri, and if so do you have any particular thoughts you want to share on it? It might be my favorite, although it's hard to rank Fujimoto's works because there's something different I like about all of them.

Hi Yuta! or is it Fujimoto?

2022, Goodbye Eri is released and I'm in for a huge slap in the face! I've finally got the chance to talk about it, so thank you!

It's hard to come after the war after this one-shot has been the subject of so much analysis, interpretation and criticism. But I think it's a work that's deliberately designed to be a trap, and the first mistake would be to try absolutely hard to determine whether Goodbye Eri is true or false. 

Trying to detect the true and the false is futile, not that it's really impossible, but arguments could be several pages long and the theories put forward would remain mere hypotheses because no explicit confirmation is given. Quite simply because this is not the aim of the work, nor a satisfactory way of reading it. 

For example, when Yuta's father seems to be getting angry with Eri, we understand from Eri's "And Cut!!!" that it was all a set-up. So, as a good reader, we can only assume that what follows is pure reality. However, the father, now an actor, if he should play his line differently.

As another illustration, when Eri is close to death and Yuta are talking, there are a few hints that they might have a relationship, but this is denied by Yuta himself, in a discussion with Eri's friend. 

The film plays with this to such an extent that all sorts of theories are possible. It could just as easily be interpreted as there being only two films (on Yuta's mother and then on Eri's death), two films but in different ways: one about Yuta's mother and a second film about Eri, as a vampire, with the end scene played by Yuta's father and by Eri before her death.

This explains why, even after Eri's death, Yuta continues to film because the film isn't actually finished yet, the editing being there to reverse the scenes played chronologically, to make it look as if Eri was still alive, and so on. ..

As you can see, it all makes sense, and our preference is purely personal because they all work. But I'm not going to play that game, because it only shows me one thing, and that's that the plot surrounding Eri is deliberately obscure. 

I've seen a lot of people describe Goodbye Eri as a work about dealing with death - the way we want to remember those we've lost, etc... It's about mourning, symbolically saying goodbye, hence the title. Which is true! But it goes further than that.

Eri's plot is deliberately obscure because the right way to appropriate the work is not through her. She's the character we know least about. Physically alone, we learn that she wore glasses and braces. Mentally, she was more annoying than she seemed in the movie. Eri is a mirage in which we won't find answers, so we have to learn to say goodbye.

The only reliable information given in this OS is that everything is filmed by Yuta's phone. And in reality, you know Yuta better than Eri, so it's him you should turn to...

Hi Yuta!

Yuta is almost never shown in this OS, as he is always filming. And when he is shown accurately, it's when he's inspired by other films by watching them with Eri, in other words, he's continuing to work on his own film by watching others. 

Yuta's first film began as a result of his mother's narcissistic desire, as he was celebrating his birthday, discovering his gift, a smartphone, all of which was directly taken over by his mother, who asked him to film her until she died.

By keeping only the good sides of his mother, ignoring all the abusive parts of her, Yuta does not follow his parent's wishes, he does it for himself, showing what he himself wants to retain from his childhood, his story, in order to move forward properly.

But as everything is filmed, it gives the impression that the videos have been passively lined up without any sorting, without any choice. Yuta takes his revenge because he refuses to film his mother until the day she dies, stopping before then, preferring an explosion to conclude his film. It's brutal because it's as if Yuta's tastes, his little touch of fantasy, are suddenly surfacing, while the rest of the film is just as personal, just as him. So when his film is mocked, it's a work so personal that Yuta wants to die. 

It's not insignificant that it's Eri who intervenes, whose only certainty was that she loved not only the films but also Yuta's, simply because she saw not only Yuta's mother in this film but also him, whom she considered to be the best character. She wasn't revolted by the ending, because she was aware of Yuta's touch throughout the film. The same ambiguity then resurfaces, we don't know if Eri is in love with Yuta, she corrects him to say that it's these films, the two are so linked, that liking Yuta's films is tantamount to liking the teenager. 

Yuta follows Eri's desire to produce a film that is above all personal to him, to the point that when Eri sees her last moments narrated by him, she sees Yuta more than herself, because she is seen through someone else's eyes. 

For me, there aren't two or three films, but just one from start to finish. Because you see, we've said goodbye to Eri, we've got out of her tricky story to reflect on Yuta, but we still haven't stepped back enough. Because you know who made the film, and it's not Yuta, it's Fujimoto. So, third stage :

let's salute Fujimoto. 

The film we've just seen in this OS deals with a number of overlapping themes, the way in which a loved one is portrayed, the relationship with others, death, creation, but above all, the extent to which a work is personal. Goodbye Eri is a pretext for Fujimoto to show us the extent to which even the cutting is the fruit of reflection, is already a message.

In this OS, all the boxes are in the video format of a smartphone, each moving, static shot depends on Yuta, just as each shot is in the third row, drawn by someone.

People make the mistake, like the first audience of Yuta's film about his mother, of relating to works as linear stories to be trusted, even if they film his mother every day, Yuta's editing is his way of counting a story, it is certainly not the truth in all its neutrality. It's only at the moment of the explosion, which expresses the most of Yuta's personality, that people get upset.

This offbeat, absurd explosion is something that Fujimoto punctuates in his works, yet they are both thought out and personal to him. But they are often mocked as a way of poking fun at his work. What Fujimoto is saying is that the work doesn't become brutally personal for the controversial, offbeat moments, just the way he depicts a scene from life is personal. 

People believed this version of the author's mother, otherwise they wouldn't be outraged by this disgraceful way of portraying this nice woman at the end, so in itself, Yuta's film worked. But all this is just a pretext for Fujimoto to point out that he is the author of all his other works, CSM, Fire Punch, Look Back, Just Listen to the Song... They are just like another film made in response to the positive or negative reactions of the others.

Fujimoto likes to trace the common ground between these works, which respond to each other. Each one, placed side by side, is an attempt by Fujimoto to upset his audience a little more, a second or third try.

The mistake is to separate the author's touch from his work, just as we are tempted to focus more on Eri than Yuta. Just as Fujimoto reminds us through this OS, who writes, draws Goodbye Eri. The first part of CSM was turned upside down by the fact that Makima was a demon from the start, abusive to the point of being the antagonist.

A violent and abusive maternal relationship. The design of the mother is also a bit similar. Mentions of the breasts, something that also went down quite a bit and left its mark on a lot of readers because it was so out of sync. The emphasis on cats... A rejected boy. A work focused on female characters.

Goodbye Eri is a work in which Fujimoto makes fun of himself, his works and the things that bring them together. Yes, there will be an explosion if the author so decides. Yes, Eri can live again, be a vampire, if the author so decides, but what's to stop him making his characters die, and then bringing them back to life a few pages later? 

The characters' plots are the authors' playgrounds, whether you like it or not. You can't detach works from their authors, or read works as unrelated things because they were written by the same person. Talking about death, life, mourning, love, with a touch of fantasy is what Fujimoto does in each of them. 

So if you're lost, remember that what you're reading isn't in the title but in the author. 

#goodbye eri #sayonara eri #fujimoto tatsuki #eri #yuta #makima #csm #chainsaw man #fire punch #look back #one shot #analysis #my thoughts #credit to Reddit for the last image @/blackfish171

[chiffiorra]

╰┈➤ Come Here a Little Closer

➜ Synopsis: When you decided to shop for some cute sundresses, you never anticipated him to react this way. He, however, couldn't wait any longer.

➜ Pairings: Boyfriend!Keiji Akaashi x fem!reader

➜ This Fic Contains the Following: Established relationship, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, Akaashi is a sweet but impatient boyfriend, reader is a lil hesitant but gives in after like a couple seconds lmao, breeding, creampie, allusions to almost getting caught, no beta i'm going in by myself y'all, word vomit part 100 (jkjk)

➜ WC: 1,805

➜ Note: it's funny how i was randomly listening to a fave song and the title came to me this way lmao. but anywaaays this was part of the sundress season collab by the amazing @saintshiba! i'm so sorry this took so long my love, forgive me? 🥺💚 but yeah stan akaashi and i think i put my whole cotton candussy into this but hey- can you blame me?

➜ Song as Inspiration: Hella Good - No Doubt

➜ Taglist: @enchantedforest-network

➜ Also Posted on Ao3: here

“Well, what do you think?” Was what he heard at first, and he saw you step out of the fitting room. 

All day he had accompanied you on your shopping trip without complaint. He had none whatsoever as the two of you went from store to store, checking out new outfits that were brand new or on sale for the warm season. 

Looking at the dress you wore, Akaashi remembered you musing to him once that you needed more sundresses for when the weather was lovely. And this one? Well, something about this one dress didn't help this rising feeling inside him. 

The one you were currently showing off to him was… wow. That was the one best word he could describe it. The floral-patterned sundress in question was one in your favorite color. It was a long spaghetti strap dress, just brushing against your ankles. It also revealed a bit of your cleavage, making it hard for him to avert his eyes away. The cherry on top was the dress also having a slit on the side, revealing your leg whenever you playfully posed for him.

"Love?" Your voice snaps him out of his staring, "What do you think?" 

He hummed in response as he reached for one of the straps of your dress and began fiddling with it, making goosebumps arise on your skin. It was amazing how the littlest things he does can have such an effect on you. 

"It looks good, it really suits you," he added, his fingers now deciding to trail from your shoulder down to your wrist, causing more goosebumps to appear on your skin. To anyone else, this scene may look innocent from a distance. But to you, you knew your boyfriend well. And when he locked eyes with you, you knew that look very well: he wanted to devour you. 

All day he carried your bags without you even asking him, and even paid for some of your items despite your protests. But trying on clothes and modeling just for him, including the racier ones? It was getting harder to fight back the urge deep inside as time went on.

You didn't resist when he gently pushed you back into the fitting room, but this made you worried: right here and now? In a clothing store?

Sensing your hesitation, Akaashi gently stroked your cheek and leaned in to brush his lips against your ear so no one else from outside the room would hear what he would say. “I just can’t help myself… but say the word and I’ll stop,” he murmured, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“I want this,” you would quietly say back to him, pulling him closer to you. Your hands would go under his shirt and rub at his back, lightly dragging your nails along. This time it was his turn to have goosebumps form on his skin. 

Without warning, he crashed his lips onto yours and his hands would roam along your body. One hand taking hold of both of your wrists and the other lifting up your dress to reveal your panties to him. As he pulled away from the kiss, he would then let go of your wrists so he could kneel down and reveal more of you to him. Knowing what he was going to do, you held up your dress so he could pull your panties down your legs to reveal your core to him, which was already starting to glisten.

It made him smirk, “Already? Does being in here where anyone can hear us get you so excited?” He said, running a finger up and down your slit. You could only whimper in response.

Akaashi then glanced up at you, “Try not to make too much noise, yeah? You really don’t want us to get banned from your favorite store, do you?” He then gave a tiny kitten lick to your clit, prompting a small gasp to escape from your lips. 

To keep any employee or nosy customer hearing what was going on, you immediately covered your mouth with your hand as he kept going; his licks at your clit turning into sucking and inserting a finger into you, thrusting in and out slowly. 

Maybe he was right, the thought of getting caught was exciting. The thought of someone possibly hearing what your boyfriend was doing to you sent shivers down your spine in the best way possible. And to think that it was a sundress you planned on buying that was the final push for him. 

Akaashi continued pleasuring you, one finger now turned into two and slow thrusting now turning into fast and rough. It felt like you were on fire, and you closed your eyes as you did your best to hide your pants and moans from the outside. While you felt like you were in complete bliss, you couldn’t forget that you were still in the dressing room. You didn’t want to do the walk of shame after being so noisy after all. It especially didn’t help that you heard someone walking by the dressing room you were given. Were they able to hear what was going on as they went on their way? 

You tightened around his fingers, signaling that you were so close to giving in to release. He was pushing you closer and closer to the edge and it was getting harder to fight against it. 

Until he stopped and pulled his fingers out.

Looking down at him angrily, you were greeted by Akaashi’s smirking face and a glint in his eye. Noting the expression on your face, he responded, “Poor baby, do you wanna cum on my tongue or would you rather it be on my cock instead?”

The angered expression on your face soon disappeared at the question as well as the hand covering your mouth. “I… I want to cum on your cock,” you said. The ache from being denied your orgasm almost hurts as you clenched around nothing.

“Good girl,” you heard him whisper as he stood up to his full height and began to strip you of your dress. The dress that caused it all. 

Feeling the cool air hit your now bare body, you shivered. But Akaashi’s body draping over yours warmed you up immediately. Pushing his pants and underwear down at the same time to reveal his cock, it made your mouth water, but that part was going to have to wait for another time. You needed him now and you knew he felt the same.

Rubbing his length under your slit made you bite back a moan and him shuddering out a quiet sigh as he used your slick to lube him up. In no time, you felt him push into you slowly. “Fuck…” you felt him sigh out as he began filling you up to the brim. 

‘Finally,’ you thought to yourself, eyes fluttering closed.

After waiting for you to get used to him, Akaashi wasted no time pumping into you. With such a move being unexpected, you gasped. He quickly placed a hand over your mouth to keep any noises from spilling out and risk someone hearing you. 

A moan that would’ve escaped your lips ended up muffled against his hand as he fucked you. You felt like you were already on cloud nine as you felt your climax slowly begin to rise up again after being wrongfully denied before. 

Raising your leg up with his free arm so he could fuck you deeper, he picked up the pace, removing his hand from your mouth so he could kiss you deeply. Moaning and panting into his mouth; you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his still clothed body against yours.

As the two of you kept going, all you could think was ‘more’. All you wanted was more. You wanted more of him, more of his body warmth against yours, more of his kisses, more of everything from him. You simply couldn’t get enough of him, and you couldn’t stop. He was all yours. 

You felt the knot inside you ready to snap soon, so you chose to grind back into his thrusts, ready to give into the bliss awaiting you at the end. “Kei-... Keiji-! I’m so close… please,” you breathed against his lips as you both pulled away, “let me-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you bit your lip, trying your best to hold back a moan. Even more so as you felt him lick and bite at your neck as he leaned in, you were still in public after all. This made him smirk against your neck in response, sensing you ready to let go.

You felt yourself clench and unclench on him, closer and closer to the end. With that coming, you covered your mouth, knowing that you were definitely not going to be silent for this one. 

It especially didn’t help that you heard chatting in the fitting room next door, one sound from you and it would be all over. Too bad Akaashi wasn’t going to make it any easier on you as you felt his thumb rub against your clit, guiding you to your release. “Cum for me, baby… cum for me,” he panted in your ear. 

You felt your eyes roll back slightly as you felt yourself cream all over him, keeping any noise muffled lest anyone caught on along with your free hand tightly gripping onto his shirt. It was a miracle no one came knocking on the door to ask what was going on. You could already imagine the stares you were gonna deal with once you stepped out.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him biting down on your neck to muffle a groan as you felt him cum inside and fill you up. You sighed as you felt him rock against you to ride your orgasms out and the kisses he would leave against your neck.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, holding him close to you again as you felt him slowly pull out, feeling his cum leak out of you. He would press a kiss on your lips before speaking.

“I love you too,” he replied. You jolted and let out a gasp as he once again rubbed your clit despite you already finishing. 

You pushed his hand away, playfully glaring. “No more, we’d be really pushing it at this point!” you said, all the while he gave you a mischievous smile in return.

“So, I take it you like the dress, right?” You teasingly added, giggling as you saw his cheeks begin to burn. But he never looked away from your gaze as his hands ran up and down your bare sides.

“I do, you should take that one. It might be my favorite out of everything you brought.”

#candy uploads 🍭 #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #keiji akaashi #keiji akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #lemon pastries 🥐 #sundressszncollab