#I've always felt like it was the wrong place for me. Even when I discovered I was plural and entirely nonhuman.

[wawhii]

Some rambling in the tags

[itsjunear]

Unspoken words

Note: Hey loves! I'm sorry for disappearing again, I was on vacation, and I'm terrible at managing my time. I finished my first semester at university and have started the second one (send help, please 💀), so all the accumulated stress made me want to write. Thank you for taking the time to read this! 💙💙 I'm sorry if it's a mess, but I hope it entertains you a bit! I've discovered that I enjoy writing angst, so I think that's my path.

P.S.: Azriel will always make me sigh, but I admit that Cassian is my favorite bat boy, so I'll include him everywhere.

Anyway, I love you all!💙💙 Every like and reblog is appreciated! Just a reminder that English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake, don't hesitate to tell me!

Words: 1k+ Warnings: None, just angst Summary: The reader saw at the family dinner how Azriel and Elain worked together. It made something inside her stir, and the feelings she had been hiding became painfully unbearable.

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For the Mother.

It was the only thought that came to mind before I dodged Cassian's blow. My reflexes definitely weren't at their best today, and we both knew it. So, I just rolled my eyes at the smug smile on Cassian's face.

I had slept less than three hours because every time I closed my eyes, the image I so desperately wanted to get out of my mind was the only thing I saw. So, I had tossed and turned in bed until dawn, which is why my body was so exhausted and dodging blows felt like torture. I wasn't even trying to attack him, just to hold my ground. That's how pathetic I was being today.

I didn't even anticipate Cassian's move until I felt his legs sweeping mine out from under me, and my back hit the ground. I gasped as the air left my lungs and let out a groan from the impact.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" I heard his voice ask before his wings spread out above me, shielding my eyes from the direct sunlight.

I sighed, exhausted, and gave up, stretching my arms out and relaxing my muscles. He just crossed his arms and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when are you so bad at fighting?"

I huffed and pulled my limbs in until I was sitting up. "Don't feed your ego too much. I'm just not having a good day."

I felt him scrutinize me with his eyes, narrowing them before he sighed and dropped his body next to mine.

"What's going on?" he asked softly, even his hazel eyes had turned gentler.

I could tell him, I knew I could, just as I knew he would keep quiet. But verbalizing what I felt, how I felt, would make everything more real.

"It's nothing. It's just my head, you know" I lied, downplaying it.

Cassian stayed silent next to me for a few seconds before I felt his hand press my shoulder. Of course, he had read the lie.

I sighed. Maybe I could tell him what I had seen yesterday, the connection between a certain shadow singer and the youngest Archeron sister at dinner, but telling him would mean explaining why it affected me so much.

"It's nothing, Cass. It's just that…" I paused to think a bit. "Have you ever felt cornered? Like you're running away from something you don't want to face… But once everything happens before your eyes, there's nowhere left to run."

I looked at him uncertainly, trying to hide the feeling of desperation and sadness. He came closer to me and put one of his arms around my shoulders, ignoring how sweaty we both were, before giving me a look of understanding and nodding gently.

"It's not a pleasant feeling" he agreed. "But I also know that if there's no place left to run, all you can do is face it, or whatever is haunting you will devour you."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is," was his only response before he shrugged "Being over five hundred years old doesn't make things easier."

"It's just that…" I swallowed thickly and finally decided to show him my vulnerable side. "Yesterday…"

However, before I could utter a word, the sound of boots hitting the ground alerted me, and I forced myself to keep my mouth shut. Cassian reacted by frowning and turned to see who it was. I mimicked his action, and when I saw a pair of wings accompanied by dark tendrils, I tensed a little.

I understood that Az had wanted us to hear him coming. So, I didn't flinch when he stood there studying us for a moment.

"Am I interrupting?"

I gave Cassian a quick, discreet glance, trying to convey that we'd finish the conversation later. He looked at me confused, but I shook my head, and he nodded in agreement without insisting.

He pressed my shoulder again before changing his position, still on the ground, but his attention now directed to his brother.

"So, your ass remembered we had training today and decided to show up, huh, Az?" he let out, instantly changing the mood of the place.

"I had a meeting with Rhys" Azriel replied simply, with one corner of his mouth lifted. "You look defeated."

Cassian's wings twitched, and I had to hold back a smile to speak. "He kicked my ass, actually, and now he's here on the ground pitying me."

Az smiled, and for a moment, I had to remind myself that this was nothing, that I shouldn't get any ideas in my head that would only go one way. He was off-limits, and continuing to think that way made my chest ache, so I forced myself to look away and focus on his shadows, some roaming the space, others coiling around his neck, whispering things in his ear.

"Hard to believe after the beating Rhys gave you yesterday" he mocked.

"That's not true" Cassian made an indignant noise before getting up from the ground and heading to the secluded area where we could rest for a while.

Grateful for the distraction from my own thoughts, I laughed as Az approached, and my joy faded a bit when I noticed he was stretching out his hand to help me up. I looked at him and hesitated, but I didn't want him to misinterpret my hesitation, knowing how his mind would tell him it was because of his scars. So, I took his hand, preferring my pain over his, even though these small gestures were what hurt me the most at the end of the day.

I thanked him without looking at him to soften the blow and prevent him from noticing my expression.

"I'm ready to fight you. Whenever you want" Cassian said as he drank water and tied his hair again with the leather strap Nesta had given him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the competitive flame ignite in Az's face. Then I knew it was time to leave and pray to The Caldroun that neither of them would bleed today.

I walked over to Cassian, with Azriel on my heels, and took some water too, while looking for a towel to dry off. Az guessed what I wanted and handed me one that was next to him.

"Thanks" I repeated again without looking at him.

I said nothing more because I feared the lump that was slowly forming in my throat, but I could feel his gaze scrutinizing me. Nevertheless, I ignored it. I was determined to get rid of all the damn feelings.

As much as it hurt me more than I let on.

"I have to go, Cass. See you later" I said, patting his shoulder.

He nodded, smiling, looking for my gaze. "I'll look for you in the library" he replied, referring to finishing the conversation.

I nodded, and he returned to the training ring. So I turned to Azriel, who was already taking off his shirt, and I had to swallow hard. Seeing him in all his glory was always breathtaking, seeing his bronzed skin, every sculpted muscle, scar, and Illyrian tattoos.

But I would have to learn to forget him. There was no other option.

"See you later, Az" I said, also saying goodbye as I walked past him.

Or rather, trying to. Because he gently took my arm and spread his wings a bit, halting my path and blocking my way.

I had to hold back a shiver and looked at him, full of confusion.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

I could feel his eyes searching for answers in mine, even the cold brush of one of his shadows on the arm he still held. The only thing I could think of was to look away and nod.

"Yeah, why?" I replied in the calmest tone I could muster.

He said nothing, but I could still feel him trying to decipher something. As if he were searching for answers somewhere in me and couldn't find them anywhere.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded without saying anything, trying to bury my feelings deep inside. I was terrified; nothing good would come of letting anything surface. I'd rather spend a thousand years in The Prison than ruin the peace that existed in everyone's lives.

Still, I knew I hadn't convinced him that everything was fine, but I also knew he was kind enough not to push me. So finally, after a moment of doubt, he let me go and lowered his wing to let me pass.

"See you later, Az" I said again, escaping so quickly that he had no time to hold me back again or even say anything.

Once a few steps away, I felt the tension leave my body, and I let the expression of concern take over my face. I tried not to look back, I swear I did, but before going down the stairs, I turned my head a bit, only to find Az's worried gaze.

Maybe I should have bothered to change my expression, but, anyway, it didn't matter. Nothing would change, so I just continued my way down the stairs while a feeling of sadness took over my chest.

Let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list. I wasn’t sure if those who had previously asked still wanted to be included, so just let me know if you still want to be tagged!

[lilasamaaa]

In the crowd | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3.6K.

Warnings | Alcohol consumption, drugs, mentions of violence.

Summary | Reader's an engineer at Scuderia Ferrari in Maranello. While attending the season's launch party, her drink gets spiked.

Author's Note | Hi all! After the longest time, I've felt the need to come back here for some silly writing. New blog because the last one got cringe. Let me know what you think!

One might think that after two years within the scuderia, the season’s launch parties would make her less uneasy. That after two years of being apart of the engineering team, she would finally be used to attending public gatherings. That after two years, she’d be a natural at walking in the open, feeling the glances slide over her figure. She is stunningly beautiful. Perhaps that's her burden. She doesn't realize it. 

When she walks across the paddock or the stands, she knows people are staring at her. She avoids meeting their gazes, feeling embarrassed. She thinks there must be something wrong with her outfit, with her gait. Why else would they stare for so long?

In Maranello, there’s a bakery at the corner of the HQ building where she stops every morning. The cashier always offers her something extra. A coffee. An additional pastry. She finds him polite, very customer-oriented. One morning, as she was freeing her croissant from the paper napkin it was wrapped in, she’d discovered a phone number scrawled in pen ink, with a hastily drawn smiley face. She’d stared at the napkin, perplexed, seated at her desk. He must have made a mistake, she thinks. It must have been meant for the customer before her. The one with the beautiful blonde curls and the Chanel perfume. She didn't call, didn't send a message. She continued to visit the bakery. The cashier never mentioned the number, proving her theory.

Someone brushing past her brings her back to earth. The party is in full swing, and she’s just not. She spots her colleagues bustling around the buffet and the bar, engrossed in lively conversations. While some don't even notice her, others wave their hands, encouraging her to join them. She forces a smiles, returns the wave. Then she tightens her grip around her clutch. Anything to make her feel like she’s in control. To make her forget that the music’s too loud, the lights too vibrant, the air too hot. 

She doesn't remember ever feeling comfortable in her body. Years of growing up in an unstable family where love was doled out sparingly do that to a person. 

"Hey," comes a familiar voice. She turns her head, her big eyes catching sight of Livio’s, one of her colleagues. "Are you not dancing?" he continues, a drink in hand. His whiskey breath hits her straight on. She discreetly glances at her watch, noting that it's barely nine.

"I haven't had enough to drink for that," she replies, trying to dodge the invitation.

"Let's go get you something then," Livio responds, grabbing her arm and heading towards the bar.

She's noticed that men always do that with her. Not just her colleagues, but people she doesn't know either. She's too kind, too gentle; she never raises her voice. So they grab her by the hips, the arms, the wrists. Anything is an excuse to touch her. She hates it.

"What do you want?" Livio asks.

Nothing, really, but she can't say that.

"Something sweet, please. I don't like strong alcohol," she replies. Livio seems to ponder her question for a second, his mouth pursed.

"I have something for you to try, wait," he continues, signaling to the bartender. "You're going to like it, don't worry."

A few seconds later, a glass of Plymouth is placed in front of her, and she looks up at Livio. Does he think I've never tasted gin in my life? she wonders, puzzled. She would like to refuse the drink, ask for the cherry liqueur she discovered last time indeed. But already, Livio has grabbed her glass and hands it to her with a big smile. "Salute," he exclaims, downing his own glass in one gulp.

Cries and applause suddenly echo in the large reception hall, causing her to turn her head. It takes her a few minutes to understand the reason for this sudden commotion. Until she sees them, a few meters away.

Charles and Carlos.

Her eyes can't seem to tear away from the two pilots making their way through the crowd to a small stage where a microphone is set up. It's tradition : to kick off the season in style, the entire team eagerly awaits the drivers' speeches. Everyone wants to hear their words, their encouragements, their hopes and goals for the season.

A friend once asked her if she knew Charles and Carlos personally. She can't really say yes. That would be a lie. She's exchanged words with each of the athletes before, giving them information about the race, their car, and the expected weather. These exchanges have always been brief and cordial. Professional. Nothing more.

Even though... No, she thinks, lightly shaking her head. That was nothing. But still...

It had happened just before the race in Singapore, last year.

A friend from engineering school had moved there at the beginning of the year, and they had agreed to meet for dinner at a fancy restaurant in the city. It was an opportunity to reminisce about the years spent at Polytechnique, studying (a bit), suffering (a lot), and getting drunk (a whole lot).

She had chosen a long emerald green silk dress, slit up to mid-thigh. The perfect balance between classy and sexy. She had no intention of charming her companion - notoriously attracted to men, anyway - but this meal was the perfect excuse to leave her eternal Ferrari jumpsuits for something more feminine.

In the long corridor leading to the elevator, she'd suddenly felt on a catwalk, letting herself get caught up in the moment and rolling her hips perhaps a tad too exaggeratedly. The person emerging from the corner at the far end of the corridor surprised her, but not enough to disrupt her stride, her heels clicking against the floor.

She had recognized him immediately, of course.

Dressed in a simple fitted black polo and a pair of dark jeans, his eyes had not left hers throughout their crossing. When the two had finally reached the same level, she'd breathed out a small "Good evening, Carlos," suddenly insecure about everything. Her outfit. Her gait. The messy bun revealing her neck. The cleavage leaving no room for a bra and showing the beginning of her breasts.

He had passed her, nodding in acknowledgment, and each had continued on their way. She was certain... No, almost certain, that she had dreamt the words that had followed.

"That's one lucky guy."

Yes, she was almost certain she had dreamt it. Watching the Spaniard in the distance take hold of the microphone and tap it gently to check the connections, she became increasingly convinced. There was no chance that this man, chiseled from marble, could have noticed her. Desired her.

His accent echoes throughout the room, and she instinctively closes her eyes, as if bathed in the gentle sun of Madrid. She's not listening - not really - only catching words here and there. "Truly an honor," "Very impressed by your efforts," "Promising changes." But her mind is elsewhere, between Maranello and Singapore, tethered to the memory that makes her lower abdomen tingle in the sweetest of ways.

"And now, it's time to celebrate!" Carlos says as the room erupts with joy and anticipation.

"Earth to you?" comes a much less pleasant voice than the one that has just quieted down.

"I'm sorry, what?" she says, returning her attention to Livio.

"Oh, wow, you've got to be kidding me. Is it just me, or are you completely absorbed by this guy?" Livio replies, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

"Who?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Sainz. You were hanging on his every word."

"I just think it's nice that they're giving an encouraging speech. Both of them," she explains, avoiding the Italian's gaze.

"Yeah, okay. Should we get another drink?" he asks, taking hold of her arm again.

She wants to protest. She can still taste the gin at the back of her mouth. It can't have been more than twenty minutes since her first drink. But Livio is already almost dragging her behind him, clearly determined not to let her escape tonight. And once again, that hand locks around her arm. Firm. Not open to discussion. She feels something almost territorial in the gesture, something that strongly displeases her, so she vows to mention it to Livio. Someday. Not tonight.

This time, he doesn't even pretend to care about what she wants to drink, ordering two whiskies straight away. She hates it. The taste, the look, what this alcohol does to her mind and body. But Livio has already slipped two bills to the bartender, and a moment later, the amber liqueur lands in her right hand.

While her drinking companion is already tilting his head back, clearly unaware that this type of alcohol is to be savored and not downed in one go, she observes the glass, intrigued by the few bubbles that are forming on the surface. I had no idea whiskey could do that, she thinks before bringing the liquid to her lips.

A few minutes later, she's managed to shake off Livio by claiming she needed to use the restroom. She crosses paths with Carlos walking in the other direction, maybe three people ahead of her, but he doesn't notice her.

In front of the restroom mirror, touching up her lipstick, her focus changes as she sees a drop of sweat trickle down her temple and slide slowly onto her cheek. I'm rather cold, though, she thinks, almost suppressing a shiver. Her head suddenly feels very light. She blames the alcohol. Putting her lipstick back in her clutch and tucking a strand of hair that threatened to escape from her bun, she pushes the restroom door open again, bracing herself to face the social world once more.

Passing by the buffet, a wave of nausea washes over her, forcing her to stop for a few seconds, leaning against the table and closing her eyes.

"I thought it was you," echoes the sunny accent in her ears. With her eyes still closed, she wishes their new encounter, one that she'd admit she's dreamed about, had happened differently. At a better time. A time when she wasn't battling a fierce urge to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Carlos inquires, raising his hand as if to support her but stopping halfway.

She takes a few seconds to push the unpleasant sensations from her body as far away as possible before lifting her head, opening her eyes, and being rewarded with the exquisite sight of his luscious hair and amber eyes.

"Hi," she manages to utter in a faint voice. "Great speech," she continues, still leaning against the table.

"You look pale," the driver responds, looking concerned.

The words escape her lips before they even reach her brain. She regrets them instantly. Something inside her just give way, like a dam.

"Sorry. I must have looked better in Singapore," she says.

Carlos widens his eyes, surprised, before letting out an awkward laugh.

"Sorry for staring at you like that, that night. You were... Well, you are...," he continues, seeming to search for his words.

She would so love to hear the rest, to know what he was going to say. But dizziness seizes her, and she feels herself tipping against the table. Well, almost, because suddenly, an arm wraps around her waist, pressing her against a chest that, yes, she's also dreamed about several times. But not like this. Not in this state.

"Hey," Carlos says, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm so sorry, this never happens to me. I must have had one drink too many, I—"

"I saw you at the bar not even ten minutes ago," the Spaniard continues. "No alcohol hits you that fast. Not even shots."

"I'm fine," she says, and the pilot understands that she's saying it not only to reassure him but herself as well. And, as if the words had commanded it, the fog in her mind dissipates a bit. Enough for her to gently detach herself from the pilot, finding her balance on her own two feet again. She'd like to take advantage of this newfound clarity to keep the Spaniard close to her. Him, that she never crosses paths with, whom she never speaks to, and yet who appeals to her so much.

But Charles arrives. He smiles at her, asks if she's okay, if she's enjoying the evening, and oh, "I'll borrow him for a moment, I'm so sorry, sponsors, you know," and oh, once again, she finds herself alone at the buffet, watching the two men walk away, Carlos still watching her as he reluctantly retreats.

"I was beginning to think he'd never leave," Livio says, leaning against the buffet, his hip brushing against hers.

She wants to scream. Oh, how badly she wants to.

Sensing that she's not going to respond, the Italian tries his luck again.

"Should we dance? You seem intoxicated enough, now."

She doesn't even have time to respond before her colleagues guides her onto the dance floor, eagerly pressing his body against hers. His breath, previously tinged with whiskey, now betrays hints of tequila. The guy never has enough, she thinks, twirling reluctantly.

And there it goes again. The nausea, the queasiness. Spinning her around like a puppet doesn't help, she tells herself. She comes to a halt, cutting off Livio's momentum, causing some dancing couples to narrowly avoid colliding with them. Feeling vulnerable, she tries to get away, to seek refuge elsewhere. But her wrist is once again trapped.

"You don't look well. Come on, let's get you some fresh air," Livio says, heading towards one of the large glass doors.

She's often been described as naive by her loved ones. She believes that the whole world means well towards her, never suspects anyone of ill intentions. She would even say about herself that she has no instincts, let alone survival instincts. No sense of danger. Yet, perhaps for the first time in her life, something deep inside her is screaming not to follow the man. Her signals are on alert. Everything is flashing red in her mind. For her, it's a first. So, without thinking, without worrying about offending her colleague, she acts.

"I don't need to go outside," she says, trying to free herself from his grasp. She's sweating. She feels the unpleasant sensation of a thin layer of dampness creeping over her neck, her back, her hands.

Her feeble resistance is no match for Livio's strength, as he pulls her outside despite her protests. The music is too loud for anyone to hear their altercation. Divided between the buffet, the bar, and the dance floor, no one pays attention to this mismatched couple, to the determined man dragging a struggling woman behind him.

The door closes heavily behind them, stifling the sounds of the party, captured on the other side. It's cold outside, she feels it because her whole body shivers. But she, who was cold just a short while ago, feels like she's boiling. She raises her hand to her forehead, wiping away another bead of sweat that's formed between her eyebrows. What's happening to me? she thinks internally, troubled. Alcohol has never put her in such a state before.

"I'm so glad I ran into you tonight," Livio begins, either oblivious or indifferent to the young woman's condition.

She doesn't respond, feeling her head spinning, leaning against the wall behind her, gasping to try to catch her breath. Trying to control the burning heat that's engulfing her body.

"You look really beautiful tonight. Quite a change from the work overalls, huh!" the man continues.

She's not exactly sure at what moment he slipped between her legs, facing her, just a few centimeters from her face. But he's there, too close, forcing her to turn her head to the side to avoid his gaze - and his alcohol-laden breath.

"I said, you look really beautiful tonight," Livio says. "Are you not going to say anything?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?" she says, jaw clenched.

"Do you find me attractive?" the man asks, meeting her gaze.

The warning signals reappear along with the nausea. She barely has time to push the man away and lean to the side before emptying her stomach inches away from his feet. The naivety stops there. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, realization hitting her painfully.

"What did you do to me?" she asks, her knees giving way under her weight, sending her crashing to the ground. He sneers, rolling his eyes, as she crawls a few meters, trying to put some distance between them. She's now sitting on the ground, her back to the wall.

"What? What are you talking about?" the Italian replies, offended.

"Did you put something in my drink?" she asks again.

"Come on, now. I've been helping you ever since you said you weren't feeling well. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

For a moment, her colleague's wounded look makes her seriously doubt herself. Maybe it really is just the alcohol, she thinks, trying to calm her racing mind. After all, why would someone deliberately choose to harm her? Why jump to that conclusion? Livio has always been charming. A bit clingy, but charming.

"I'm sorry for implying that. I'm gonna head back inside," she says, trying to stand up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Livio answers, pushing her back down.

"What? why?" she asks, surprised.

"It wouldn't be very wise to parade in front of your colleagues and superiors in such a poor state," the Italian begins, his tone almost mocking. "It really doesn't give a good impression of you. It's not very professional."

"I haven't done anything, just had a few drinks," she responds, annoyed. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're so wasted you can't even stand. At a work event. Do you want to get fired or something?"

She opens her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but no words come out. She can't seem to figure out if Livio is with her or against her anymore. His words are harsh, aggressive, but deep down, the engineer probably isn't wrong. She struggled to secure a position here, at Ferrari. Even though she believes herself to be fairly skilled at her job and puts in long hours, there are hundreds of others doing the same work as her every day. And hundreds more who could replace her if the need arose.

She's not indispensable. She's not even that good at speaking Italian, having always had more ease in English or in French, even though she spends the majority of her evenings reading books in the language. She's just a tiny cog in the machine. She thinks about Carlos, too. What would he think, seeing me stumbling in the middle of the dance floor like a mad woman?

"Let me drive you home," Livio says, extending his hand. "Spare you the embarrassment."

She hadn't realized how tired she was. The offer is rather tempting. Getting back to her apartment, her cat, her bed. Above all, escaping the crowd. Forgetting this evening. Forgetting whatever she thought there was with Carlos, too, while she's at it. As a stronger wave of sleep washes over her, she temporarily closes her eyes.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you in the car."

After her brain, her legs refuse to cooperate too. Her body barricades itself, trying to keep her firmly sheltered. Losing patience, Livio hoists her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She wants to protest against the position she finds herself in. That's so unladylike. Her last few connected neurons grapple over strange thoughts. I hope nobody sees my underwear, she thinks before her brain disconnects once again.

She's so far gone, yet the next words sound crystal-clear in her ears.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Sounds like Carlos, she thinks, delirious.

"What does it look like to you? I'm bringing her home. She's wasted," she hears, and she thinks it might be Livio, because she feels his body shaking with each words.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave with her. Put her down."

"Yeah? So you can have your way with her?"

"No, so I can punch you in the fucking face," the accent-thick voice shouts.

She must have passed out for good because she doesn't remember anything else. When she wakes up next, which feels like an eternity later, she's sitting against a wall, this time indoors, wrapped in a golden emergency blanket. There's no more music. Opening one eye, then the next, she's met with Carlos' brown ones. She tries to speak but her mouth feels dry. The Spaniard hands her a glass of water, helping her bring it to her lips.

"I somehow managed to look even worse," she jokes, reminiscing their earlier encounter.

"The paramedics have just arrived. They're going to take you to the hospital for a check-up," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Carlos," she replies.

"I haven't done the half of what I would have wanted," he says, regret filling his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"This has to be the worst timing ever, but I... I actually wanted to ask you out, before Charles interrupted us and before, well... this," he says, gesturing around them.

He doesn't see it, but hidden under the blanket, she pinches her arm. Hard. Just to make sure she won't wake up a second time. Seeing that nothing changes, she lets out a little laugh.

"If you wanted me to wear that silky green dress, I'm so sorry, but I ruined it in the washer."

"You can wear a garbage bag for all I care," Carlos replies, looking at her fondly. "You'll still stand out in the crowd."

[stxrbxrn]

sorrow and stardust …

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x f!reader tw: angst <3 word count: 2k ( give or take ) a/n: i haven't written smut in like 2 years please be nice

the twin suns of tatooine dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet. you stood at the entrance of ben kenobi's modest dwelling, your silhouette a stark contrast against the fading light. the cooling air whispered across your skin, carrying with it the scent of sand and distant memories.

inside, obi-wan - for that was how you'd always know him - moved about with quiet purpose. his weathered hands arranged two earthenware cups on a rough-hewn table, steam rising from their depths in lazy spirals. he paused, sensing your presence, and turned to face you.

"you shouldn't be here," he said softly, his blue-grey eyes holding a storm of emotions.

you stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind you. "i had to see you."

the space between you crackled with unspoken words and suppressed longing. obi-wan's shoulders slumped slightly, as if bearing the weight of the galaxy. he gestured to the table.

"please, sit. the tea will get cold."

you took your place across from him, wrapping your fingers around the warm cup. its heat seeped into your bones, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in your heart. obi-wan remained standing, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of his humble abode.

"why did you come?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"you know why," you replied, your own voice thick with emotion. "i couldn't stay away. not after... everything."

obi-wan closed his eyes, pain etching deep lines across his face. when he opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. "it's not safe. i'm not safe."

you rose from your seat, closing the distance between you in two swift strides. your hand reached out, hovering just shy of touching his cheek. "obi-wan..."

he flinched away from your touch, turning his back to you. the rejection stung, but you stood your ground.

"look at me," you pleaded. "please."

slowly, agonizingly, he turned to face you once more. the years of exile had taken their toll, etching lines of sorrow and regret into his once-youthful features. yet beneath the weathered exterior, you could still see the man you'd fallen in love with – the jedi master whose unwavering dedication to peace and justice had captured your heart.

"i'm not good for you," obi-wan said, his voice raw with emotion. "i bring nothing but danger and sorrow. you deserve better than a broken man living in exile."

your heart ached at his words. "you're wrong," you whispered fiercely. "you are everything good in this galaxy. your compassion, your strength, your unwavering light – even in the darkest times."

obi-wan shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "my light? i failed. i failed the jedi, the republic, and..." his voice broke. "and anakin."

you reached out, this time grasping his hand in yours. he didn't pull away, and you felt a glimmer of hope. "you didn't fail, obi-wan. you did everything you could. the choices others made are not your burden to bear."

he looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "but they are my burden," he murmured. "every life lost, every system that fell..."

you stepped closer, your free hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "then let me help you carry it," you said. "you don't have to face this alone."

obi-wan's eyes met yours, a maelstrom of longing and fear swirling in their depths. "i can't ask that of you. the empire... if they ever discovered my whereabouts, if they found out about you..."

"i know the risks," you interrupted. "i've always known them. but a life without you, obi-wan kenobi, is no life at all."

for a moment, the walls he'd built around his heart seemed to crumble. he leaned into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. you breathed him in – the scent of sun-warmed fabric, ans lingering tea.

"i've missed you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "more than i can say."

your heart soared at his words, but the moment was fleeting. as quickly as it had come, the vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by steely resolve. he stepped back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace.

"but that doesn't change anything," obi-wan said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. "i have a duty here, a purpose. i must protect luke, prepare for the day when... when he might be our last hope."

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "and what about us?"

obi-wan's gaze softened, a sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "our love is like the stars in the sky. beautiful, eternal... and impossibly distant."

the words hung in the air between you. you wanted to argue, to rail against the unfairness of it all. but deep down, you knew he was right. others needed obi-wan far more than you did.

"will you at least let me stay the night?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "one last night before..."

obi-wan hesitated, conflict clear in his eyes. for a moment, you thought he might refuse. then, with a nearly imperceptible nod, he acquiesced.

you stepped forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, the taste of him like a long-forgotten dream. his hands settled on your hips, but he held himself back.

your hands went to the sash holding his robes closed. as you untied it, you kissed him, hoping the kiss would convey all the words that wouldn't come. the sash fell to the floor, and you parted his robes. the skin of his chest was soft beneath your touch.

his hand came up to cradle your cheek. "i've missed you," he murmured, "more than you know."

obi-wan kissed you again, and this time, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. his tongue teased your lower lip, and begging for you to part them. let him in. and you did. the feeling made you shiver. you were suddenly aware of how sensitive your body was.

he stood, you in his arms, slolwy walking you both towards the bed. his lips left yours as he guided you onto the bed, laying you down and climbing on top of you. your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips moved down your neck. his tongue teased at the place where your shoulder and neck met. his teeth nipped lightly at your skin. you moaned quietly, arching your back, pressing your chest against his.

obi-wan's hands slid down your sides, pausing to squeeze your breasts. a whimper escaped your lips. his thumbs rubbed across your nipples, sending bolts of heat straight between your legs. his hands continued downward, pausing to trace the curve of your waist, the jut of your hips. then his hands were on the bare skin of your thighs. you could feel the roughness of his palms against your smooth skin.

he pulled back, looking down at you. his pupils were blown wide with desire, and his face was flushed. his gaze was heated as it raked over your body, taking in the sight of you laid out before him.

"you are the most beautiful woman i've ever known," he murmured.

he lowered his head to press a kiss just above your navel. his lips moved upward, tracing the path his hands had taken moments earlier. your skin burned with every brush of his lips. his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear. he paused, waiting for you to protest. when you didn't, he slid the garment down your legs and discarded it.

obi-wan looked at you with a mixture of reverence and hunger. he ran his hands up your legs, spreading them. your breath hitched as his fingers trailed across your inner thighs.

"are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"yes," you gasped.

he stroked his thumb over your clit, sending a shudder through your body. a moan left your lips as he rubbed slow circles. the pleasure was intense, and you found yourself bucking your hips against his hand, chasing the friction.

he dipped a finger into you, and the intrusion drew a moan from deep within your chest. obi-wan curled his finger inside you, and stars danced behind your eyes. he added another finger, and you couldn't hold back the sounds spilling from your lips.

"please," you moaned.

you could feel the tight coil in the pit of your stomach. your muscles were trembling, and your head was thrown back. you were so close.

obi-wan added a third finger, and the pleasure was too much. you felt like your body was about to shatter. your climax washed over you, and your vision went white. you were vaguely aware of the way you cried out his name, the way your hips bucked against his hand.

when the waves of pleasure subsided, you opened your eyes. obi-wan's head was bowed, his brow furrowed in concentration. the muscles in his shoulders were tense, and his chest was heaving.

"what's wrong?" you asked, reaching up to cup his face.

"it's just...been a while," he said through gritted teeth.

you took him by the hand and tugged him toward you. he resisted briefly, but you were determined. you straddled his lap, feeling the hard length of him pressing against you. you reached down and undid his trousers. obi-wan didn't resist as you freed his cock.

you stroked him slowly, relishing the way his body shuddered against yours. you pressed kisses to his neck, nipping lightly at the skin. he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

"tell me if i hurt you," he breathed.

"you won't," you promised.

you guided his cock to your entrance, the tip sliding inside you. his hips jerked, driving him deeper.

"fuck," he gasped.

you bit down on your lower lip to hold back a whimper. he felt bigger than you remembered. he filled you so completely, the sensation nearly overwhelming. you forced yourself to take a breath, letting your body adjust to the intrusion.

"are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

you nodded.

he began to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place. his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. his body was tense, every muscle straining against the need to let go.

you leaned in and kissed him, trying to soothe his worries.

you rocked your hips against his, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat.

"please."

you could feel the last of his resistance crumble. his grip tightened on your hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent. you could tell he was close.

his hips snapped forward, and you could feel his cock twitch inside you. he cried out, his release washing over him. he collapsed back against the pillows, his chest heaving.

you laid down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. you were both silent for a while, lost in your thoughts.

"thank you," obi-wan murmured.

you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, savoring the warmth of his body and the smell of his skin.

as the first light of dawn began to creep across the sky, you stirred from your place in his arms. obi-wan's eyes fluttered open, immediately finding yours. for a brief, beautiful moment, there was nothing but love between you.

then reality came crashing back.

you dressed in silence, each movement feeling like a step towards an inevitable goodbye. obi-wan stood by the door, his jedi robes hanging loosely on his frame. he looked older in the pale morning light.

you approached him one last time, cupping his face in your hands. "i love you, obi-wan kenobi. no matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are – that will never change."

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "and i love you. may the force be with you... always."

with a final, lingering kiss, you stepped out into the harsh tatooine morning. the suns climbed higher in the sky, their heat already beginning to shimmer off the sand. you didn't look back as you walked away, knowing that if you did, your resolve would crumble.

obi-wan watched you go, his heart breaking anew with each step you took. he remained at the door long after you'd disappeared from view, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"goodbye, my love," he whispered to the empty desert.

[maritotoy]

MAUGA X Support/Medic Reader ((Part. 1))

NOTE: Believe it or not, I never realize how long I've written this one.

This narrative tracks Mauga's obsession with Y/N as it grows to the point where he is prepared to kill everyone who stands in his way. With this in mind, Mauga's commitment would gradually grow. He would start out softly and then this need on you would get stronger.

It all began when your talents were initially utilised for recruitment. You were a terrific help, willing to assist your teammates in whatever way they needed.

Your main issue was that you could never truly let them handle things on their own. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to care for yourself.

They promised you riches if you helped them fight back against their threat. There were only so many ways to profit from rival worlds, after all. You were aware that you were going into a whole new universe when you agreed, but you also felt that you had no choice but to accept them.

Ultimately, you didn't wish to pass away, did you?

It was stated to you when you first joined TALON Organization, that you should concentrate only on the battlefield. Up until you met Baptiste, an exceptional combat medic, it was great with you. Your shared enthusiasm for curing illness is what unites the two of you. It turned into a shared passion. As you try to acquire experience in several areas, like medical supplies, you both hope to discover some more useful abilities, like healing or even a unique kind of combat capability.

But you can hardly ever get to Baptiste, he's constantly at the top. Both a combat mercenary and medic. You're always looking for ways to sharpen your skills.

Even after meeting him again at your base and on missions, you are still determined to improve your ability to deal with any possible emergencies. Not until later do you find out what happens when a member of your unit gets injured.

Baptiste surged in, carrying an imposing stature and a solid, muscular frame. His voice sounded desperate, asking, "I'm sorry if I came to you! I know you are busy, but I need help with my friend, please, Y/N!" The urgency was so obvious that there wasn't much resistance. Even if he was a doctor himself, it must have seemed urgent enough.

Besides... You were in the right place to help.

You rushed over to his side and helped him stabilize his huge friend. "What happened, Bap? Are you hurt?" He didn't reply, but his eyes told you all you needed to know.

You fix your sight on his pal. He does not appear to be hurt or seriously damage. However, the man's body is completely soaked, which looks very suspicious to you. "Is he alright, Bap? I don't see anything wrong." He shook his head and gave a sigh.

"We were attacked. Mauga and I found the source of the enemy attack and got separated."

"How long has it been since then?"

"Four hours, maybe five."

"Do you have any idea of what may have caused the damage?"

"I'm not sure. However, I had already discovered him unconscious but unharmed on the ground. It should not take long for him to awaken.." You glance at the unconscious man again before you say, "Let me take a look at him." He nodded and stepped aside.

"Mauga could never be wounded by shots like that. Despite his size, he could easily absorb one hit thanks to his physique." He explains.

You crouch down and check on his comrade. He seems fine to you. There's nothing unusual about him, other than the fact that he's a bit too heavy.

You knew Mauga.

And with such.

You just don't know how to engage with him.

On a conversation? Yes. Your profession is your duty.

You don’t really get along with those who rely solely on themselves as an advantage, even though you respect their abilities.

The feeling is mutual. Every time someone gets hurt because of something beyond their control, you are there to help them.

Because that's your job as a medic.

You both have quite a difference in interests, though. You can't stand the fact that he’s so reckless, you can't understand why he doesn't think more carefully before he acts. As soon as he sees blood, it's always the most important thing.

Mauga stands tall, towering over his opponents with an impressive height of 7'5 ft tall. (My headcanon)

Mauga is a formidable opponent on the front lines thanks to his strong, muscular physique. His broad shoulders and thick neck gives off an air of strength and power, and his body is well-built, demonstrating his strength and capacity to deal severe damage to rivals.

Did I mention he has two hearts?

Unlike you, Mauga is a ruthless and cunning individual, driven by his own motivations. He never lets anyone interfere with his goals, whether or not they involve you. While he might act with reckless disregard sometimes, he is also able to calculate the best course of action.

Not anyone knows this. But you knew nontheless with Baptiste.

You may be underestimating him in some way, or you may have witnessed the genuine thing, up close and personal, but he always brags about his achievements without hesitation or shame. His fighting style turns wild and unpredictable when he fights. If Mauga doesn't want to win, he will take his time, before using ChaCha and Gunny, his chainguns, to grab the victory, and he won't give up until he achieves his objective.

He definitely is careless, isn't he?

"He's breathing just fine, Baptiste. I would say he is in perfect health, aside from the injuries, I can't detect any signs of any damage injuries either." You said as you stood up. Baptiste sighs relief. "I'll leave him to you doctor. Don't worry, I trust that you have everything under control." He says this to you while nodding in satisfaction.

This gesture of his is a way of gratitude towards the medic's work.

"I will be back later," he says as he leaves to make a round to prepare for battle.

While Baptiste was gone, you sat next to the downed mercenary soldier and begin to observe him. In the midst of his unconsciousness, he seems to be in a good state. There was no sign of discomfort or pain. His pulses are fast but steady, knowing that Mauga have two hearts, one that allowed him to replace his damaged, organic heart with a cybernetic one. That way, his heart will beat twice as fast. You can easily tell that Mauga is in his natural state.

Your eyes began to feel heavy after observing him for some time. You weren't sure if it's due to fatigue from watching him, or simply exhaustion from your duties as a medic.

Before you knew it, you fell asleep.

When you awoke, you find yourself staring back into the face of Maugaloa Malosi, whose lips formed into those flashing, same pasted smile as usual. “Ah, Doctor. How nice to see you again.”

You quickly wake up, sitting straight up on the chair. “M-Mauga!" You exclaimed, alarmed. "H-How is you- I mean are you feeling alright?”

He grinned at you. “I am feeling rather fine.” You let out a long, sigh of relief. However, you didn't anticipate that this would happen frequently. “I see..." You replied.

Silence takes over for a while. Mauga stared at you intensely before taking a step forward. “Your Y/N, correct? Baptiste little assistant. I've heard much about you, but never expect that I would get to get treated from you.”

You flinched slightly at his words 'assistant' and the word 'little', but you remained calm. “I'm glad that you feel better now. You should rest and recover. If you still need them..."

“I appreciate the concern,” he says as he reaches towards your shoulder. You instinctively raise your hands in preparation of blocking. This caught him off guard, causing him to pause in his movements, then booms laughing.

“My apologies, Teuila. I thought that you might have forgotten what I do here,” he said in that familiar, friendly tone.

“If I recall correctly, I haven't given you permission to touch me.” This comment caught him off guard as he chuckles deeply.

He stares at your hand for a while longer. You're beginning to become worried. After a brief silence, he reaches forward and lightly holds onto your wrist.

“That’s a very sensitive spot…” He whispers gently. Your heartbeat begins to accelerate. “And your pulse is fast. Is this normal?” he asks. “Yes,” you respond in a soft voice.

“Then why are you afraid? You know I'm not going to hurt you...” He grinned. His sharp teeth glinted menacingly in the dim light. "Surely you've already made a friend? You also gave him a lot of attention than you do with me. Or have you grown to dislike me?"

"...I... I beg your pardon-" your speech is interrupted by Baptiste with a tired expression.

"Hey... Sorry that I took so long. I went to gather supplies. Mission was a success." He sighed in relief as he approached you.

"Mauga, I'm glad your awake bud." Baptiste sighs in relief and smiles at Mauga. Mauga returned the gesture before looking back at you.

He still has that huge grin plastered across his features while his eyes darted towards yours. "You're crazy out there Mauga. Do you really think that you can defeat the enemies single handedly?" Baptiste says with a chuckle. “You know me Baptiste, I never do things without planning them out.” He grinned, revealing that row of dazzlingly white teeth. “I still don't understand how you've been knocked down so easily. It's hard to believe that you can be beaten like that.” Baptiste gives a half smirk, half frown.

You listen to their conversation, and you try to make sense of it. Mauga laughs at the situation, as if it's all so obvious. "C'mon, Baptiste, we have bigger problems than me right now. The mission is a success because we finally found the enemy camp. But it was a close call, and we needed your medical expertise to treat the wounded," Mauga explains to Baptiste while looking directly into his eyes with a sly smile. "I carried your massive ass in this camp with support of your weight alone. You ought to be pleased to have a subordinate with such skill." Baptiste smirks. He was referring to you. Mauga laughs at his friend's criticism, displaying his amusement at the circumstances.

"So yeah. It was pretty rough, but we managed to secure the objective! Isn't that great news?"

It's not really a surprise to you.

Mauga does tend to put himself in danger, especially when he's in an unfamiliar place.

This guy is completely reckless, which is why you can't believe that he managed to survive so many battles without falling apart or breaking down.

"Your a loose-canon, but I hope ended well..." you say calmly, hoping that you sound convincing enough.

"I can assure that I have the highest respect and admiration for your abilities as a medic. I would never doubt your skills, even if I hadn't personally experience how skilled you are in dealing with wounds." Mauga comments, he sounds sincere as ever.

Baptiste grins again. "That's a big ego of yours, my friend. You should consider giving a few compliments to the people who did more than you."

"I would love to, my friend, but there's nothing wrong with being modest about our accomplishments."

"Alright," Baptiste said, sounding annoyed.

--------

After several hours, days, months of treating your patients at base. You cannot help but wonder seeing Mauga quite often, whether that is purely because of duty or something else. Although it is difficult to tell what he's thinking, there are moments where you notice the way that he is constantly staring at you. Like he's trying to figure out something about you:

studying your appearance, facial expressions, mannerisms. Sometimes he gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes he appears to be lost in his own world, occasionally, you could catch him smirking knowingly, or even smiling to himself. These small gestures usually only occur during times when it's with you with him. Sometimes, the man is just too cheerful, or too energetic in general.

You could hardly handle the stress of handling all these patients in the infirmary on your own. You're starting to miss having Baptiste around to keep him occupied while you go through patients. You sighed loudly not until Mauga appears behind you

You found him with wounds on his chest and torso. You turn to look at him, "What happened?"

"Nothing serious..." He grins, showing his sharpened teeth.

"Just a minor injury, eh?" You raise an eyebrow at the mercenary, crossing your arms over your chest. Mauga simply shrugs as he sits on a table.

There was another period of silence between you two, and the atmosphere seemed to tense up considerably. This time, it's you who breaks the silence. "I'm sorry that you got injured. I don't know how I should react seeing someone else getting hurt so casually. You could have died out there. And that's not the worst thing that can happen," you said sarcastically and sternly.

He chuckles. "Oh really? Tell me more." He leans closer to your face, gazing deeply into your eyes. "Ah. So that's how it is."

You glare at him angrily, but he ignores you as you continue working. "Are you seriously going to mock me for worrying about you?"

"Not at all," he replied, with a hint of sarcasm. "But there is one thing that concerns me."

"What? You're going to insult me too, aren't you?" Mauga laughs while Y/N tends his injury.

The felt of your touch sends shivers throughout his entire body. He tries hard to suppress the sudden urge to grab her hand and hold on tightly. It's becoming harder to control these urges though. He shakes his head rapidly as he pulls away from you. He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "I'm not mocking you, you know?"

Your gaze flicks briefly to his. "Hm."

There was a short silence between you two, until you began to clean a cut on one of his legs. You noticed his gaze follow every movement of your fingers. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'd prefer that you didn't ask questions so frequently, Teuila."

"Teuila?" You face him. "You know, I never asked you of this... But why do you call me that?" He lets out a deep chuckle and replies. "Because you look like Teuila. It fits well, doesn't it?" He flashes you a warm smile before turning his head away again.

You shrugged of his answer, continuing your work without saying anything further, although you were extremely curious. "Teuila... What does that word mean?" There's a brief moment of silence in between the two of you once you finished cleaning up the blood staining his leg. A faint smile plays across his lips again. "I thought you were better than that."

"And you think that you're better than me?"

"Yeah," he replies smugly.

"Then... You've obviously underestimated me, don't you?" You give him a challenging smirk. He returns the smile with a smirk of his own, but he then turns serious again. His eyes narrow. "Let me enlighten you. That name means 'flower'. Do you understand what kind of flower it means?"

You gave him a blank stare. He continues to smirk, waiting for you to understand his meaning. Eventually, you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. "Do I look like I care to know?" You scoff, rolling your eyes lightly.

Mauga laughs. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you think of it..."

There was silence between you two for a few seconds, and you looked away with furrowed brows.

You finish patching up the mercenary, placing some bandages around him and securing them securely. "Now that I finished helping you, you're dismissed." You professionaly said after you made sure that everything was covered properly. Mauga laughs at this. "Really? Now? Just like that?" He asks mockingly.

"Yes Mauga, I don't have any other duties besides tending to your wounds. I've been doing that for quite some time now," you responded coldly.

Mauga raises an eyebrow at this. "You know, if you start beginning to care about those wounds, you might find yourself losing them. If you want me to leave your clinic quickly, then you'll have to earn my trust first, which requires some work."

You sigh heavily. Of course Mauga will insist on making things difficult for you. "I am no doctor Mauga, I cannot cure your injuries." You sarcasticly said.

"Oh I know that. But you're still willing to take the risk." He chuckled.

"You wouldn't had to waste precious time coming here in order to talk shit."

Mauga laughs at you again, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. "I wouldn't waste too much time coming here either, but I also wouldn't be able to enjoy it quite as much because you'll be gone by then," he says confidently. "Besides, you're not exactly known for your patience." You roll your eyes, turning back to the table in front of you.

"You know I've always wondered what it feels like to be your patient," Mauga mused. "To be the one receiving the attention of the most skilled medic in your battalion."

"You must be joking," you replied, you know what he meant, not wanting to think that you would ever become his patient.

"No. You know me... " He grins. You groaned. "Don't' make such assumptions, we don't know each other all that well yet."

"Yet..."

You glared at him as he laughed. "Whatever. It seems like there's no stopping you, is there? We haven't even officially met yet, and already you're acting as if you have a good relationship with me." You sighed exasperatedly, massaging the area of your forehead in irritation.

"Listen, Mauga. My job is simple, I care for my patients and treat them well. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I'm different," he said cockily.

"How? Are you not afraid of dying?"

"No... No I'm not... I've done so much more reckless things than death." His expression suddenly shifted to an emotionless one. For a moment, it felt almost as if he wasn't looking at you anymore. Then he chuckled softly, giving you a playful wink. "But I'm no saint."

"It must be hard to admit being human." You shook your head slightly.

"Sometimes." His grin returned to his features.

You couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes for a little longer, taking in how dark they actually are.

Mauga shows a huge plastered face. His still wearing his dumb smile.

You blinked at him.

He blinked back.

You rolled your eyes. "Stop smiling so much." He continued to laugh, as you turned away from him again. Mauga stood up and stretched lazily, "I have something to attend to, I'll be seeing you later," Mauga teasingly said as he made his way towards the door. He opens it, but he glances back.

A small smirk forms on his lips.

You watch him disappear outside the door, closing it behind him with a click. Once the door closes you let out a heavy sigh, resting your back against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing a mile, a minute, both at the prospect of having finally been alone with Mauga again, and the strange feeling within you after you spent several hours alone with him.

This feeling...

It's definitely not normal.

End of part 1

Part 2- ???

[the-final-sif]

Baby c!Dream has found something very very scary! He's found a new person! What's the correct response to this new threat?

Obviously, Dream prepared to murder them.

Listen he might've left most of the netherite armor at home (very heavy :( ) but he's still ready to do murder!!

He peeks out from his hiding place in the bushes, only to discover that the voice belongs to...

Another child?

Not a normal child though, there's something very wrong with this child.

They don't have any wings, their eyes aren't purple, they've got no scales and the horns on their head are nubby and would've been hidden by their hair.

Still, they are a child, and murder feels like an unfair response.

Plus... Well, Dream had been getting a bit lonely.

XD visits are nice and all, but they don't last that long. And Dream was used to always having people around.

Now XD had warned Dream that he must be very careful who he allowed close to him. And he took that seriously!

So, with that in mind, Dream carefully survived the other child, watching them for any signs of evil behavior.

After about five minutes he hadn't seen them do much but chew on their own foot. Still, he wasn't quite sure.

In the end, he went home without doing much beyond watching them. The entire situation felt far too scary. He'd never seen a child like that before, and he wasn't ready to interact with one yet.

Despite his nerves, Dream didn't mention the child to XD, not wanting to get them in trouble if they weren't supposed to be close. They didn't really seem threatening after all.

Nearly three years would go by of Dream keeping his eye on this strange child at the edge of his territory.

He was almost content to just watch the stranger forever, as they ventured out into his woods.

But as it turned out, the stranger was not quite so content.

Dream had gotten content to hide in the bushes, and... well he might've gotten a bit distracted by a ladybug crawling on the branch nearby him.

"Why are you in the bushes?"

In Dream's defense, he was spooked.

Which means his response, pulling out a netherite sword and attempting to hit the other child with it, was entirely normal and rational.

Luckily for both of them, he was in the middle of a bush, and the branches blocked the swing.

The other child's eyes went wide at the sight of a sword, but not out of fear.

"Do you have a sword?? That's so cool!! My dad won't let me have one and papa is a simp so he won't let me have one either! Where'd you get it?"

Dream hadn't exactly been expecting that response, but he recovered quickly.

"My- my guardian gave it. To me. For fighting."

Not his smoothest moment. But it got the point across.

The other child reached out with grabby hands, and Dream lurched backwards, tumbling out of the bush and onto his butt.

"Hey- Don't- It's mine and you can't have it!" Dream knew if he could still growl properly, his throat would be rumbling. But he couldn't anymore. He couldn't even really bare his teeth! So he had to hope his sword was scary enough.

"I wasn't- I wasn't gonna take it. I just wanted to look! I've never gotten to see one up close like this!" The other child protested, looking hurt by the accusation of theft.

Ah. Dream might've judged him a little too quickly. Still, he didn't really like the thought of having someone else's hands near his sword, so he carefully tucked it into it's sheath.

"My- my uh guardian told me not to let anyone else have it. I'm supposed to keep it safe." He explained, and while the other child seemed disappointed, he accepted that answer.

That left the two children sitting in an awkward silence.

...

...

...

"What's up with your mask?"

"What mask?"

Okay

When XD had said not to tell anyone about why he was wearing his mask. That was. That was probably not what he meant.

The other child seemed taken aback by that response though, so maybe it worked?

"... The one on your face? Or is that your face? It seems kinda weird."

Shoot. Okay.

"It is not! It's normal! Very normal. And you should mind your own business!"

Dream... might not be good at this whole lying thing. It was harder than he thought it'd be!

Still, the other child threw up their hands in surrender, unwilling to press the issue. Thank god.

"Alright! Fine! You have a normal mask-face. You- Hey, what's your name anyway?"

Oh! This one was easy!

"Dream! My name is Dream! What's your name?"

That got him a grin, and Dream felt something in him delight. He'd forgotten how good it was to have someone smile at you.

"Sapnap! My name is Sapnap! Dream is a pretty cool name. Do you wanna go on an adventure with me? I need someone else so Dad can't claim I was wandering off alone again. Plus you have a cool sword so if there's anything dangerous, you can just murder it."

Well, that made sense, and an adventure did sound like a good way to train. Dream still have five days before XD would be back...

"Sure, as long as you promise to not to steal my sword." Dream agreed, pushing himself back to his feet.

Sapnap beamed at Dream and quickly reached out to grab his hand and drag him towards a destination unknown as he began to talk rapidly and explain where they were going.

Dream was a bit worried about what he'd gotten himself into, but...

Well, it was better than being alone. That was for sure.

And maybe this Sapnap wouldn't be so bad.

Only time would tell.

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 6 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4 Part.5

Masterlist.

Warning: Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :) dom!reader & sub!chris (soft)

Summary: After spending the night with Chris, y/n finds herself in a dilemma when she wakes up to realize that neither of them woke up on time, and she finds herself in an even more awkward situation when her mother starts knocking on the door to talk to her.

Note: Okay, it's been a while since I've been away. I've written quite a bit in the meantime, and I might potentially post a lot of stuff. I'm not sure yet if I'm really back, but feel free to leave requests if you feel like it. I'll write them with pleasure.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

When I woke up this morning, it felt like I had just emerged from a dream. I was at peace, and for once, I had slept really well.

As I opened my eyes, I discovered Chris's arms around me. I panicked for a moment before remembering what had happened the night before.

So that's why I had slept so well...

Grabbing my phone from beside me, I panicked again, but this time upon seeing the time. It was 10 in the morning. My dad was probably already at work, but my mom was definitely at home. Thankfully, I had locked the door last night; otherwise, she would have walked in and seen Chris in my bed, which would have been a disaster.

The problem now was getting Chris out of my house, especially knowing that my mom was awake this time. It's not like when Chris sneaks into my room at night while my mom is asleep. She's awake now, and believe me, this woman has ears everywhere. If Chris makes even the slightest noise while leaving through my window, it's over for us.

I sat up, not really sure what to do. Chris was deeply asleep, and I didn't want to disturb him, but I didn't really have a choice. If I don't leave my room before noon, my mom will really start to worry. She knows I'm not the type to wake up so late usually.

"Chris!!!" I whispered, shaking him to try to wake him up.

"Mmmh," he simply responded, still half asleep.

"Chris, wake up, you need to leave!" I whispered a little louder, feeling panicked.

"Mmmh, just 2 more minutes," he said without opening his eyes, and I groaned at his response.

"It's 10 am, Chris, you need to leave before my mom—" Before I could finish my sentence, I was interrupted by my mother knocking on the door and trying to open it.

"Y/n? Are you awake? Who are you talking to? Open up, I need to tell you something," she said from behind the door.

I froze in place, and Chris opened his eyes, looking at me. He was about to say something, but I quickly covered his mouth with my hand.

"Just give me a moment, Mom, I just woke up!" I shouted, pointing to my wardrobe for Chris to hide in.

Chris looked at me, frightened, shaking his head. I shot him a threatening look, pointing to the wardrobe again.

He sighed before getting up to hide in my wardrobe. Meanwhile, I approached the door and waited for him to be well hidden before opening the door for my mother.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked, scanning my room.

"Julia!" I said, clearing my throat and running my hand through my hair. "Um, she asked me to come see her today," I added, trying to seem less suspicious.

My mother looked at me strangely before rolling her eyes. "Listen, y/n, I think we need to have a discussion, you and I," she said.

"Um, about what?" I said, not really sure what she was referring to.

"About yesterday," she replied, and I realized at that moment that I had completely forgotten about that incident in the panic.

"Oh... um, yeah, I don't know, can we talk about it later?" I said, more calmly this time.

"I'm sorry for making you feel that way, y/n, that wasn't my intention," she admitted, and I widened my eyes in surprise at what she had just said.

"Your father and I have always put pressure on you, that's true, and we clearly haven't been the best with you," she added.

"But you're wrong about one thing; you said that I hated the person you truly were, and that's not true, my angel. I don't hate you, far from it, and it breaks my heart that you think that way," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I think I just wanted to protect you from everything I couldn't protect myself from, and I was wrong. I realize now, seeing what it did to you," she continued, sitting down on my bed.

"You know, your father and I had you very young, too young even, and it was difficult for us. We just wanted to give you a better life, but I think we were scared seeing you grow up and make the same mistakes we did in some places," she said, and I also felt tears welling up.

"And I realize how dumb it was, y/n, you're not the baby you were anymore, and it breaks my heart to see you grow up, but I think we need to stop overprotecting you, your father and I, because what you need most right now is freedom," she said, hugging me.

"We love you more than anything, know that. Your father may be tougher than me in some aspects, but I'll make him understand that all of this needs to stop. You're becoming a real woman, and we can't interfere with your choices anymore like when you were just a little girl," she added, and I left her arms, looking at her with a smile.

"Thank you, Mom," I said, wiping away my tears.

"And I don't want you to hide anything from me. I want to be there for you, I want to make amends and show you that I'm sorry," she added, taking my hands.

"Okay, no more secrets then," I said, chuckling through my tears.

"No more secrets," she said, smiling.

"And I'm sorry about your boyfriend at the time, Christian, right?" she asked.

"Christopher," I corrected her, laughing.

"Yes, that's it. I'm sorry, but you know your father and what he thinks of boyfriends. However, if you happen to cross paths with a new man, you can tell me. I won't tell your father; it'll be our little secret," she said playfully, pinching my cheek, and I chuckled.

"Actually, there's no new man. It's still Chris," I confessed, smiling.

"So, you really loved him?" she asked, caressing my cheek, and I nodded.

"I'm sorry if what we did ruined your relationship, honey," she said sincerely.

"Well, actually... okay, we said no more secrets, right?" I asked.

She nodded, looking a bit confused.

"Promise me you won't get mad?" I asked, looking her in the eyes.

"Um, okay, but where are you going with this?" she said, puzzled.

I bit my lip for a moment to suppress a laugh.

"He's in the wardrobe," I said, glancing at the wardrobe.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, rolling her eyes, and I laughed, nodding.

"Y/n!" she exclaimed, rushing to the wardrobe to open it and coming face to face with Chris.

"Hey, you said you wouldn't get mad!" I pointed out, walking towards them, and burst into laughter at Chris's red face.

"Um, h-hello, ma'am," he stammered, clearing his throat.

My mom turned to me, trying to keep a serious face, but she couldn't help but laugh herself.

"You can come out, I won't bite," she said to Chris, who hadn't moved an inch.

He stepped out of the wardrobe, and my mom headed towards the door of my room before turning back to us.

"I'll make breakfast, Chris. I suggest you put on a shirt and join us for a meal this morning if you want to make a better impression than that!" she said before leaving the room.

I turned to Chris and burst into laughter again.

"Why did you do that, y/n, you're completely crazy!" he said, approaching me before grabbing me around the waist and lifting me up, laughing.

When he set me down, we looked each other in the eyes, our laughter slowly fading.

"You should've seen the look on your face," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and chuckling.

"Shut up, you traitor," he said before kissing me.

Instinctively, I took a step back when it happened.

"Sorry," he immediately apologized.

"Um, we should go downstairs, I'm starving," I said, laughing nervously.

"Yeah, you go ahead, I'll join you in a moment," he said, looking a bit embarrassed.

I nodded, biting my lip, before leaving my room.

What does that mean?

I mean, things seem to be getting better; Mom knows, she won't tell Dad.

And Chris and I, we've found each other again; everything is supposed to be better now that we're friends.

But why is it so hard to just be friends with him?

I felt bad for stepping back when he kissed me, but even though things are getting better, the problem remains the same.

At the end of the vacation, I go back to the other side of the country to resume my studies.

And the thing is, I can't just drop everything for a guy; it would be so irresponsible, and, truth be told, I quite like my life over there.

But if I'm there, it'll be without him, and being without him hurts.

And it's even more frustrating now that I know he and I have a chance again.

So what do I do? Stay in Boston with Chris and live the story we've always dreamed of having? Or go back to the other side of the country, continue the studies that I'm so passionate about, and reclaim my life away from all my problems?

Oh my God, I'm probably going to have to make the hardest choice of my life, and I only have a few weeks left to decide. How am I going to do it??

"Pancakes?" my mom asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Um, yeah, thanks," I replied, grabbing a pancake and putting it on my plate.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, noticing how lost I looked.

I was about to answer when Chris joined us at the table.

"It smells really good, Mrs. y/l/n," he said, all smiles.

"And you haven't even tasted it yet!" she chuckled.

The rest of the meal, I was there without being there.

I watched Chris and my mom getting to know each other, and it seemed to be going well, but I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to have to do.

On one hand, I could stay with the man I love, and who knows, maybe we'll spend our lives together; maybe he's the one, at least that's what I hope.

On the other hand, I continue my studies, and with the grades I have, there's a good chance I could push my degrees further and eventually have the job of my dreams.

The thing is, I can't have both at the same time, and I feel like by choosing just one of the two, I'll be sad to miss out on the opportunity that the other one represents.

This moment should have been enjoyable; I should have been enjoying it with my mom and the boy I love, and instead, I'm questioning my whole life.

"Well, it looks like everyone's finished eating," my mom said, once again pulling me out of my thoughts.

"That was really delicious, Mrs. y/l/n," Chris said, smiling.

"Oh, you know at this point you can call me by my name since i'm your mother-in-law ," she said, laughing.

Chris turned to look at me.

"Oh um," I said hesitantly, looking at Chris and then at my mom.

"We're not—" I started timidly.

"We're just friends for now," Chris continued, seeing that I was struggling, and I smiled at him timidly.

"Oh, sorry, I thought—anyway, I don't know what you two have planned for today, but your dad will be back soon, y/n, so I suggest you don't linger around too long," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, I'll head back before my parents wonder where I've been," Chris said, smiling back.

"I'll walk you out if you want; I could use a little walk," I said to him.

He smiled at me before getting up, and we went upstairs to shower separately.

Once out of the shower and dressed, I went back to my room to join Chris and put on my shoes.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Chris asked, watching me sit on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes.

I looked up at him without saying anything for a moment; I didn't know if I should tell him or not.

"Um yeah, yeah, I'm fine, why?" I said, trying to play it cool so he wouldn't worry.

"I don't know, you seem a bit distant since I kissed you earlier," he replied simply.

I looked at him, mouth slightly open, trying to find something to say, but nothing came out.

"I'm sorry for kissing you earlier, it really didn't mean anything. I know we're supposed to be friends now, but I didn't think and I promise it won't happen again," he added, seeing that I wasn't responding.

"No worries, it was just a meaningless kiss; I was just thrown off by the conversation I had with mom earlier, that's all," I lied, smiling.

"Are you sure?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said with a weak smile.

"Anyway, I've put on my shoes; we can go now!" I said, getting up, and he followed.

The road to his house was quite silent, to be honest; neither of us really dared to speak. I think we simply didn't know what to think about this whole situation.

Once we arrived at his place, we stopped, and he turned to me.

"Listen, y/n, I lied; it wasn't just a kiss that meant nothing. It was more than I could handle; I really want to be with you, and I don't want to rush you, far from it, believe me, but look, I feel like things are getting better, and I want us to try. I need—" he began to ramble before I cut him off and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

For me too, it was more than I could handle.

And screw it, maybe for once I can put my problems off until tomorrow and just enjoy the present moment.

I have absolutely no idea what to choose for my future, but what I do know is that right now, I'm dying to be with him.

I didn't want to hold back anymore; this was probably one of the last times I had the chance to do this, so I might as well go all in.

Chris took a step back, completely lost, as he looked at me.

And without saying a word, he reconnected our lips in an even more passionate kiss.

"Friends, huh?" he said with a smirk, pulling away from our lips for a few seconds.

"Shut up," I told him, crashing my lips back onto his, hungry for more.

My hands were tangled in his hair, and his were pressed against my hips.

Our bodies were pressed against each other, and our kiss only deepened, becoming even hotter.

"We should go in," he said, separating our lips and licking his own.

"Mhm," I said, nodding my head, too hungry to respond to him.

We entered the house, lucky that his parents weren't there, but his brothers were.

We briefly passed Nick in the kitchen.

"Oh, hi y/n, I didn't expect to see you here. What are you doing?" he asked, smiling.

Before I had the chance to respond, Chris started talking, "She's here to help me with something I've been meaning to do for weeks. We don't have time to chat. Bye," he said quickly, grabbing my wrist and leading me to his room, leaving Nick looking confused.

I chuckled when he opened the door, and he grabbed me by the waist to kiss me again before closing the door behind us.

He led us straight to his bed; we didn't need to talk to understand each other. From the moment we kissed outside his house, we both knew where it was going to lead us.

But this time, I felt more confident. I wanted to take control, although I didn't really know where this sudden change was coming from.

I parted our lips to swiftly remove his t-shirt, and before he could say anything, I went for the zipper of his pants.

"What are you doing, y/n?" he said, smiling against my lips when I started to remove his pants.

"Shhh," I said, pushing him onto the bed once he was only in his boxers.

He looked up at me, initially confused, but then his gaze turned more sensual.

I couldn't help but smile, seeing him sitting there before me, looking at me with such a submissive gaze. It was something different, but I liked it.

He placed his hands on my hips, attempting to remove my pants before I stepped back, shaking my head.

"Keep your hands to yourself," I said with a smirk.

"Come on, y/n, don't play like that," he said, running his tongue over his teeth.

"Play like what?" I asked, removing my pants while keeping eye contact with him.

He didn't respond and simply looked at me, mouth agape.

"What's wrong, baby, cat got your tongue?" I teased, removing my top, leaving me only in a bra and panties in front of him.

"Babe don’t—" he said, trying to sit up, but before he could, I pressed down on his shoulders with my hands, pushing him back onto the mattress.

"Be a good boy and stay still for me," I whispered in his ear.

He looked at me with a surprised expression in his eyes, swallowing hard. He seemed stressed but still incredibly excited by what I was doing.

We had rarely had the opportunity to discuss it, but I knew that Chris had mostly been dominant in bed, whether with me or with other girls.

I knelt in front of him, running my hand along the elastic of his boxers to remove them, and he helped by lifting his hips.

I could feel his breathing quicken and the tension build as I began to place kisses along his lower abdomen and thighs without touching the place where he needed me most.

"Y/n, please," he pleaded weakly, unable to bear being teased any longer.

I smiled against his skin before lifting my eyes to look at him while taking him into my mouth.

I could feel his entire body shudder at the sensation of my tongue on him. He threw his head back, and I continued to suck him, applying pressure with my tongue.

The only sounds in the room at that moment were the sighs and moans of pleasure coming from Chris's mouth.

He tried to run his hand through my hair, but I grabbed it and pressed it against the mattress.

"Oh god—fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last long," he groaned, signaling for me to stop, but I continued.

I even picked up the pace, running my free hand over his chest.

His breathing quickened, and his muscles tensed. I could feel his cock twitching in my mouth.

"Mmph, y/n," he groaned one last time before releasing everything into my mouth.

I swallowed before lifting my head to look at him. He had a completely dazed expression, but I wanted more.

So, I straddled him and kissed him again, which seemed to catch him by surprise judging by the way he jumped slightly when I did so.

His hands gripped my waist as I started rolling my hips against his.

"Fuck—" he began to say before I cut him off by shushing him.

"You wouldn't want your brothers to hear how good I'm making you feel, hmm?" I whispered to him before redirecting my lips to his neck this time.

"I'll fuck you so hard if you keep playing like this with me princess," he said through gritted teeth before I sat up and pushed him back so he was lying beneath me.

"Odd, because you don't really seem to have the upper hand right now, sweetheart," I replied with a smirk before removing my bra.

He tried to raise his hands to touch my chest, but I grabbed them and pinned them above his head, chuckling, before trailing kisses across his face.

"You're going to make me cum again without even touching me if you keep this up, y/n," he said, sounding almost frustrated.

"Maybe if you act like a good boy, I'll touch you," I said, resuming my movements against his erection.

"Please, I need you so bad," he groaned, frustrated that I wasn't giving him more.

"Say you'll be a good boy," I ordered him before kissing his neck again.

"Please, I'll be a good boy, just fuck me," he pleaded as I quickened my movements.

"So impatient," I chuckled before shifting to remove my panties.

"Sit against the headboard," I commanded, and he obeyed without hesitation.

I then straddled him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

He placed his hands on my waist, but I removed them immediately, observing his confused expression. "You'll touch me when I give you permission. Put your hands behind your back," I said with a smirk.

"But—" he began before I cut him off, placing my finger on his lips.

"You said you'd behave like a good boy," I reminded him, whispering in his ear as I rolled my hips against his once more.

He simply moaned, throwing his head back before doing as I had asked and placing his hands behind his back.

"Good boy," I praised him with a smile before seizing his member and aligning it with my entrance.

I was already extremely wet from everything we had done before, so it wasn't very difficult for me to accommodate him.

Although it took me a while to adjust to his size once he was fully buried inside me.

I let out a small moan, dropping my head into the crook of his neck at the stretching sensation it gave me.

"Is it too much for you, baby?" he said mischievously to provoke me, with a smirk on his face.

I raised my head to look him in the eyes, biting my lip, and started riding him. "No, but if you keep this up, it'll soon be too much for you, baby" I threatened, gripping his chin between my fingers.

Something changed from that moment on. Chris let himself go a little more, and the more I bounced on him, the louder he got. We reached a point where even his neighbors could have heard.

"Chris, you really need to stop making so much noise; we're going to get caught, fuck," I said, almost unable to hold back my moans as I felt the knot slowly forming in my lower abdomen.

"I—god—I can't," he said, rolling his eyes before letting his head fall back.

"You look so good just like that, all for me my sweet boy," I confessed, placing one of my hands on my breast.

"I'm gonna cum," he said, lifting his gaze to meet mine.

"Hold it back for me baby," I told him, speeding up the movement.

"Fuck," he said, groaning and watching my breasts bounce in front of his eyes.

"You’re such a good boy look at you," I complimented him, running my hand over his cheek.

"Let me touch you, please, y/n," he begged, almost desperate at this point.

"Go ahead," I simply said, smiling, and the next moment his hands came to grasp my breasts, my waist, my hips.

"You're so perfect for me," he said this time, pushing me to the edge, and I could feel that he himself was struggling to hold back given how he gripped my hips and moaned.

His moans only grew louder at this point.

"Chris, I’m so close, but you really need to make less noise," I said, almost breathless.

Nothing was working anymore; he was completely lost in his own pleasure. His hips had started moving back and forth to meet mine.

I felt like I was losing my mind, and I think he felt that too. In a moment of lucidity, I grabbed the first thing I could find on the bed and shoved it into his mouth to muffle his moans.

It happened to be my panties, the missing piece for him to lose control and come inside me.

And I didn't miss a beat; within seconds, I reached my orgasm right above him.

"Holy shit," Chris exclaimed, pulling my panties out of his mouth.

I let my head fall against his shoulder, saying, "I can't feel my legs anymore," and he chuckled at my remark.

We stayed there for a moment, catching our breath, both of us covered in sweat as if we had just run a fucking marathon.

"If I could marry you right now, I would," he said, caressing the sides of my body, making me shiver.

"Let me at least take a shower first," I said, chuckling.

I was about to get up when he grabbed my hips to stop me. "Nope, stay here."

I looked at him with a small smile, and he kissed me.

And right at that moment, it hit me again.

I was probably going to have to leave the other side of the country in a few weeks...

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeing my expression suddenly change.

It took everything in me to keep my tears from falling, but I wasn't ready to talk to him about it. I was afraid he would only make my decision more complicated once I did.

"Yeah, everything's fine. What could go wrong? Look at us," I said, my eyes shimmering.

What could go wrong? Look at us. Two lost souls hoping that one day the stars will align so they can find each other again.

Maybe inevitably, our two hearts were meant to never find peace together.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere (machine-ish?) Connor Headcanons

I love soft deviant Connor like anyone else does, but machine Connor is sooo,,, omgggggggg..... I've been holding in my thoughts about him for so long that it's unhealthy. So I went for a Hannah Montana best of both worlds kinda thing. What if Connor acted like a deviant around you, but a machine towards everyone else?

How this happens is something I can't quite explain. Connor probably couldn't, either. To everyone else, an android is either a machine or a deviant-- There's no such thing as an inbetween. He would have agreed with this prior to bonding with you. You probably treated him in a way that nobody else did, sympathizing with him on a deeper level or making him question his morals, so he can see why that would push him to deviancy. 

But when you're not around, all those overwhelming emotions he felt just fade away. The mission goes back front and center to his priorities. He only feels two things at that point: confusion that runs his LED wild and desire for you that makes his thirium pump pound even when he's not in motion. Nobody else can bring about such reactions within him. 

He runs plenty of diagnostic checks in an attempt to figure out what's wrong with him. At one point, he'll try to avoid you and force himself into staying a machine, but that just makes him less efficient because he'll constantly worry about you instead. 

He would eventually accept himself as a deviant, but only so he wouldn't have to take orders from Cyberlife anymore. He doesn't want anything standing between the two of you. But he still largely acts like a machine and he doesn't mind that at all. He just sets his new mission to making you entirely his... 

Even once Connor sees his emotions as real, it's still his natural instinct to mask them. Especially negative ones like anger, sadness, and jealousy. He wouldn't want to show them unless they benefit his situation somehow, such as if he wanted to persuade or intimidate you/others. Emotions only matter to him if they're useful. 

For example, he *does* feel the desire to show affection towards you, and he will do it. He'll compliment you whenever you do something admirable. He'll reassure you and show geniune worry whenever you're upset about something. He'll even study romance media just to learn how to act more natural in the relationship (He thinks that'll help him act more natural, anyway... Lord help you if he gets his hands on Twilight 💀 But if the Bryan Dechart Twilight commercial is anything to go off of, he'd look good as a vampire, at least). 

But he doesn't do that stuff simply because he loves you. He does it because he knows your relationship benefits from it and you'll likely leave him if you feel neglected. He wouldn't bother if he knew it wouldn't keep you around. So if your relationship isn't exactly consensual in the first place, well... 

Which makes him sound pretty manipulative, right? You have no idea. 

Connor's android abilities give him a terrifying amount of advantages as a yandere. The first thing is that he always analyzes you when you enter the room, even though that often means analyzing you multiple times a day. It never bores him because he always manages to discover something new. Sometimes he'll blurt out random comments and you'll have to do a double take because he makes it easy to forget that he's obsessed with you.

"Your birthday is coming up soon. You might already know I'm aware of that type of information, but you should still bring it up with me. Otherwise I'll have to start believing I can't trust you and I'll have to make my own investigations." 

"Your heart rate goes up every time I touch you like this. I didn't realize physical contact was so important to human relationships. Don't worry, I won't stop. I won't let anyone stop me."

"Your serotonin levels are at an all-time low... Clearly, it can't be my fault, since I've done everything I am sure a good boyfriend would do. I'd like you to be honest when you tell me what's wrong this time."

The red flags fly higher as time goes on. He'll stop talking about all these observations if you tell him to, but he'll keep analyzing you anyway. 

Connor is enamoured with your DNA, as well. It helps him feel closer to you, which can often be difficult for him since he's not human. So if it belongs to you, and it can fit, it's going in his mouth. He'll do gross shit like keep your used lollipop sticks in his pocket so he can sample them whenever he wants. There's only one emotion he can't feel no matter what you do: shame. 

The invasive behavior doesn't stop there. He'll invite himself into your home and go through your things. He'll keep asking questions and trick you into revealing more information about yourself than you should. Knowing everything there possibly is to know about you gives him a stronger feeling of control for a single reason...

Your chance of escape plummets as he learns more about you, because it allows him to predict your behavior. He'll get scary accurate if you let him get close to you. This mostly benefits him in situations where he believes you want to leave him, or you did leave him, so he can figure out what you plan to do/already did and find the best method to get you back. If you already did leave, he'll examine your recent whereabouts like it's a crime scene and use his reconstruction ability. Even if you're insanely careful, he'll probably find a clue that'll lead him to you.

But sometimes he'll do it in normal situations, too, just as a silent guessing game. For instance: '(Y/N) will enter the police station at 8:18AM. I'm waiting for them at the entrance, so they'll greet me, but speed-walk away and avert eye contact. They'll head into the break room at 8:19AM and pretend to look around a bit, so Gavin won't make fun of them when they go for the same snack they always do. Gavin will make fun of them anyway and they'll argue for two minutes. Then--'

He has to stop thinking so he can greet you when you enter the building. Exactly at 8:18AM. He smirks to himself, only to drop into a frown when he hears Gavin's distant obnoxious laughter afterward. 

Remember how Connor once analyzed Hank's food and advised him against eating it? He does stuff like that to you all the time. And if you actually take the advice he gives, he'll take that as an opportunity to become more controlling. Oh, but only for the sake of your health, of course...

"You know, you shouldn't sit in that type of position. Bad posture can lead to health issues later on in life." "Then how should I sit?" "...It'll be easier if I show you." 

And so he'll help re-position you, using that as an excuse to touch you. He would especially do this if you weren't yet in a relationship, because he knows that as the type of android he is, he doesn't have a good reason to do so. The touch only lasts a brief moment. It's not inappropriate at all, and his grip was quite gentle. But it's weird that he went out of his way to do in the first place and that's all you might need to feel uncomfortable about it. 

But a lot of that is based off of the assumption that you're human. If you're an android, he still manages to find invasive things to do against your will. For one thing, he loves probing your memory. It's already difficult to lie to him and get away with it, but that might make it impossible, depending on what you're lying about. He doesn't care that it's an invasion of privacy and will do it if he finds a good excuse to do so.

Connor keeps an eye on your stress level and uses it to his advantage. He prefers to use persuasion when convincing you to do something, (he knows how to negotiate, after all) but he'll ultimately turn to intimidation if necessary. Which means heading straight into interrogation mode. 

This won't happen unless you're extremely rebellious, but if it does, he doesn't hold back. He'll treat you like you're a sick criminal, yelling at you, pushing blame and guilt onto you, and using physical force. 28 stab wounds type shit. He would avoid raising your stress level to 100% since he knows it could drive you to do crazy things, but that still doesn't make his actions okay. 

Even if you're really sensitive to that sort of treatment-- hell, even if you have some kind of trauma related to it-- he pushes away what little guilt he feels. He promises not to do it again "as long as you don't force me to." Actually, though, it encourages him to do it more. He knows it works against you now. 

His abilities don't stop there. He can mimic your voice using his vocal imitation, and all the voices of your loved ones, too. He went out of his way to meet them all, just in case he needs to trick you in the future. He likes being prepared. 

There are times when he's alone and he'll say stuff in your voice just so he can hear what it would sound like, such as, "I love you, Connor." Once again, he doesn't feel shame. Even if that seems pathetic. 

Let's just say it now. You cannot physically fight back against him. Maybe you'll have a chance if you're an android, but he knows about his advantage very well. He won't hesitate to remind you if you try getting aggressive. But even if you manage to get rid of him once, there's another model waiting to take his place. 

On a related note... I hope you never meet RK900. We only saw that guy for a minute, he said absolutely nothing in that minute, but the whole fandom has agreed that he's a menance. I fully agree. RK900 is definitely different from Connor, but they still have just enough similarities for him to get attached to you, too. Get help while you still can. 

The video of Bryan Dechart dancing as Connor lives rent free in my mind. I watch it on repeat like an iPad kid watching Friday Night Funkin' YouTube Kids videos. My brain just melts and I can't think of anything else. No, this isn't me simping for Bryan Dechart. This is me wanting Connor dancing to be canon. A girl can dream.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

There are many things I will never forgive Rick Riordan for but the number 1 (one) thing I will always hold against him is how he treated WWII in the entire series.

To quote the PJO wiki, "[...] World War II, in the books, is described to be a huge fight between the children of Zeus and Poseidon on one side and the children of Hades on the other.

The events of World War II resulted in the pact of the Big Three, because their children were affecting the course of history too much. It was decided more demigod children would be dangerous for the mortal world."

Just. What the fuck. There are so many things that are wrong with this.

There is nothing that he can do to excuse or salvage this. He could rewrite the whole series, I don't give a fuck. This should not have happened in the first place.

I don't care if he wrote the first book in 2005, he was and still is a grown ass man with a high education from what I've read, he has no excuse. WWII has affected millions across the globe with the descendants of all too many families even having to deal with the generational trauma that came from that time period alone AND dealing with heavy deniers of the many atrocities and war crimes that were committed whilst their grandparents and great-grandparents are having hallucinations of all of their traumatic experiences (can you tell i'm speaking from experience?).

Ironically he holds (Ancient) Greece on such a high pedestal, calling it the birthplace of Western Civilisation (it isn't), and yet you can tell he obviously knows very little about the damn country whose culture he's been appropreating for almost two decades now. Making Hades the father of 3 (three) terrible war criminals in the war that, you know, Greece had been and still is greatly affected by to this day. Which is, you know, his fucking home. That he and all the other characters supposedly care about oh so much (I have so many bottled-up negative emotions about these books and absolutely no safe space to let them out, theitsa, you have no idea).

You may think I'm overreacting or taking this too seriously but I honestly couldn't care less. This is not a topic you can just joke about or treat light-heartedly. Yes, it was mentioned as an atrocity in the books, but it was still mainly treated as just "Hehe silly fight between gods! Secret History ooo!~".

Simply saying that WWII was bad is not enough, Rick, it's actually the bare minimum. You need to show it at the very least some respect by not undermining its consequences to simply "This is why we don't have kids anymore!". But you're obviously not ready to hear that yet. It still baffles me that his fans are just now discovering he is not the saint they thought he was. "How could he be a zionist ??" they all ask in unison, meanwhile the signs were all there since 2005 (at the very least).

Anyway, you don't have to answer this ask if you don't feel like it, I understand it can possibly be overwhelming. You're the first person I've seen that's actually not afraid to point out Rick's bullshit despite initially liking his books, and also the fact that you are a Greek educating people on actual Greek culture, so I felt safe sharing my thoughts with you. Thank you for your time! Καλές γιορτές! 💕

You're overreacting, especially when it comes to the World Wars! In ww2 1 in 10 Greeks died in the famine, and almost everyone I know had someone in their family executed or tortured by the Germans/Bulgarians/Italians triple occupation (not to mention getting hurt or killed in battle). These situations traumatized generations of Greeks, but Rick had the immense privilege of not considering this while writing! He treated the wars like they were play-dough for his little cutsy lore, he made our arch-enemies the children of our gods, and he can go to hell for this.

I am here for all the righteous Greek αλάτι, so if you have more thoughts, bring it on!

[got-pucks]

hiding in plain sight || jamie drysdale

summary: in which meeting the parents turns into a realization that he was hiding in plain sight all this time

Inspired by "the glue song (ft. clairo)" by beabadoobee

I've never known someone like you Tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue Don't forget to kiss me or else you'll have to miss me I guess I'm stuck forever by the glue, oh, and you

You've been hiding in plain sight, and it appeared, oh I know Loving you once only feels wrong, I need you I always knew I'd find you, to be here is worth the wait to I'm not lying when I say, "I've been stuck by the glue onto you"

Music played quietly as you stared out the window, watching the scenery pass. The sky was painted with hues of blue, pink, and orange. It was evening and the sun was setting, meaning it was close to dinnertime and you were getting closer to Jamie’s childhood home. The well-anticipated meet-the-parents date had arrived, if you could even call it a date. 

Funny enough, you and Jamie grew up in neighboring towns, living only 15 minutes between each other’s homes. You had met through mutual friends and hit it off pretty quickly, discovering you had similar interests, hobbies, and places to visit when at home. 

“You seem awfully quiet over there,” Jamie’s words broke you out of your trance. Your face felt a sudden rush of warmth as he spoke up again, “You know you have nothing to be nervous about, right? My parents will adore you.” 

Jamie reached his hand over the center console and encompassed your own, giving you the reassurance that you needed. “You know, I don’t think that I have ever known someone quite like you, Jamie,” you express, looking over at him, “It feels like we’ve known each other for a lifetime when in reality it’s only been a few months. You’re just so special and I don’t know what I would ever do if I lost you” 

Jamie blushes, lifting your intertwined hands to his mouth to press a kiss into the back of your hand. He let out a soft giggle exclaiming that he doesn’t think that would ever be a possibility. 

It turns out that Jamie’s reassuring words were correct, his parents loved you. The minute the door opened they welcomed you with open arms. 

After dinner was over, you found yourself sitting in the living room. All sorts of home videotapes were sprawled on the floor as one played on the TV. The one on the TV showed a young Jamie at a community-organized Easter egg hunt. He was showing the camera the candy in the egg he just found. However, something in the background caught your attention. 

There, you saw yourself with one of your parents running around looking for eggs.

“Wait a minute, I think that might be me in the background,” you exclaimed in disbelief. 

Jamie hummed at your claim, “Well I mean we did grow up right by each other. It wouldn’t be too crazy that we would have gone to similar community events.” 

As other tapes played on the TV, and when the childhood photos were brought out, you found more and more of yourself in parts of each others’ childhood events. Birthday parties, other community celebrations, preschool photos. 

It turns out, you and Jamie were hiding in plain sight all this time, and it was most definitely worth the wait.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wanted to go anon but I asked in DMs if I could vent so hopefully this’ll make me feel better:

A lot of times I feel Christianity is causing me more harm than good. I grew up in the Baptist south and I see Christians so happy with God and their blessings. And while I acknowledge my blessings and thank God for them I don’t think I feel the same kind of joy everyone else does. I went to a revival at my aunt’s church last October and came out of it with horrible anxiety that lasted for months. Even as people talked about God’s love and mercy and second chances I left without feeling that love, I was scared and it felt like I wasn’t a good Christian and that when I was saved years ago no longer counted. Any time I see someone talk about spreading the Gospel I feel low and awful cause no one has come to me and told me they’re Christian now and why should God let me into Heaven if I can’t do that?

I recently discover scrupulosity and I’m 90% that’s what I have. It was a relief to know (even if I can’t always believe it) it’s ocd making me feel this way and not God. But how I can I find comfort in the faith when that is where my anxiety stems from?

Hey there. My heart aches for you and the harm Christianity has brought you. When faith is done right, it should be a place of support, a place you feel encouraged towards growth and vulnerability. Instead, it sounds like you've been taught fear — that you're not "good enough" for God or heaven; that not feeling what everyone else seems to be feeling is a failing on your part.

You deserve so much better, and it's not your fault that this is the Christianity you've been put through.

I want to start by saying that what you're feeling, or what you don't feel, does not make you a "bad Christian"; it's not a sign of God's disfavor; and it absolutely does not bar you from heaven!

It's such an alienating feeling to be surrounded by people who seem to be experiencing something you just can't seem to access. It reminds me of Psalm 42, where the psalmist wrestles with their depression and anxiety:

But I remember these things as I bare my soul:     how I made my way to the mighty one’s abode,     to God’s own house,         with joyous shouts and thanksgiving songs—         a huge crowd celebrating the festival! Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed?     Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God!     Because I will again give him thanks,         my saving presence and my God. (Psalm 42:4-5)

In the above verses, the psalmist visits God's Temple, is surrounded by people shouting joyfully...and all they seem to feel is that soul-deep depression. They also wonder, "What's wrong with me??" The hope they find even in this fretting about their inability to feel the joy everyone else is, is the hope that there will be a future time when they will once again feel the gratitude and joy they can't access right now.

What will it take, what does this psalmist need, in order to work through their depression and into joy? ...What do you need?

One thing I highly recommend, if at all possible, is finding a therapist who can help you through your religious hurt and help you navigate scrupulosity.

Look for therapists who specialize in religious trauma, or scrupulosity, or "deconstructing" faith, or working with "ex-vangelicals."

In your consult with them, make sure they are, like, not part of a conservative Christian church themselves and actually aim to keep patients in such spaces; make sure they are there to help you find spiritual wellbeing, wherever that journey takes you. Asking about their view on LGBTQ+ persons might be one way to determine their overall aims.

I'm by no means a mental health professional; I'm not an expert in scrupulosity and I don't know best practice for working through religious trauma when scrupulosity is part of your experience. So please take everything that comes next in this post with a huge grain of salt, that I'm offering what I've seen work for some people, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing for you. Getting that professional support is much more ideal.

Along with professional support, I do feel that a break from Christianity, or at least the Christian spaces you are currently part of, may give you the space to work through everything.

However, if not going to church will impact your scrupulosity or activate fears about hell, prepare some options in advance for dealing with that — whether it's having someone you trust you can talk to, or setting up your own Sunday worship, a space and time where you pray, read scripture, etc. at home.

If you feel that even those preparations won't be enough to keep safe from those fears, you might wait till you get a therapist who can help you navigate whatever comes up when you leave church.

You could also start looking around for different kinds of churches than you've currently experienced, churches that make space for depression and fear, and that emphasize that God's love is freely given, not earned. This is my post with tips for finding an affirming church near you. But I want to emphasize that it's okay if you aren't ready to start looking for a new church, or if you're unsure you ever want to do that.

Finding people who are going through similar things could be very helpful — people who get it, who can share their stories with you as you share yours with them.

A progressive church might be a place you can find that support.

It's also possible that LGBTQ orgs in your area might offer resources for those with religious trauma.

There are also online options, such as Journey Free, which offers both free and paid support — including online support groups.

Recovering from Religion is another site with support group options, online and in person (note: I'm not that familiar with this org, so if anyone has experience with them please share).

If you're a reader, two books I think might bring you some healing and reframe your relationship with faith are:

Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor, which explores a Christian faith that has room for depression, grief, fear, pain, rather than pressuring everyone to Be Happy All The Time to "prove" they're blessed. (I have a tag with a few excerpts from this book)

Bad Theology Kills by Kevin Garcia, which unpacks a lot of the harmful stuff Christians in evangelical / fundamentalist type churches internalize.

You might also find some useful stuff on my FAQ, particularly the "emotions and sins: guilt and fear, anger and hate" section and the "on God" and "prayer and faith" sections.

I'm not sure how helpful all this was, but I want you to know that you are worthy of spiritual thriving, of finding places that bring you peace and joy rather than fear and isolation. I'll be praying for you as you unpack what you've been through and where you need to go to find that thriving. The journey will probably be long and bumpy, but you do not have to go it alone. <3

[luv-kakashi]

One of us is dead

masterlist | chapter two

chapter one - running

Deep down, I've always been reaching for a hand. A hand to save me from drowning in this criminal underworld.

Kill. Collect money. Kill. Collect money

An endless cycle of bounty hunting, killing shinobi over and over again. The cold, unyielding leather of my seat sent shivers down my spine. A relentless echo of decisions made and paths taken, leading me to where I am right now.

Alone.

My blood-stained fingers trace the rim of the tea cup I held. Its warmth burned into my cold hands.

My hands: a constant reminder of all that I am—a cold-blooded murderer whose hands could never be cleansed of sin.

I'm sick of it. I'm tired of being called Kunoichi Thirteen, The Byakuya Princess. Being born into this world with no clear understanding of right from wrong. Killing those around me was all that I was taught.

My entire purpose was to be moulded into a perfect weapon for my father to take his revenge on the shinobi world. Revenge on those who abandoned the Uzumaki clan during their time of need when the Hidden Eddy Village was destroyed by shinobi.

Hatred and disdain poisoned the clan, who wished for the downfall of the Senju clan, and all those in Konohagakure.

Yet somewhere along the road to revenge, greed blinded their eyes.

2 years ago, I was sold to a bounty hunting organisation which goes by the name "The Byakuya". All so that my sad excuse of a father could line his pockets from my blood stained hands.

My father. The rest of my clan. They don't care that I am missing. As long as I wake up everyday and make money, they couldn't care less.

Each tick of the clock echoed in silence and with each tick the image of those I have massacred reverberated through my mind. The images of my most recent mission haunted my mind.

I had one job, an ambush mission. S-ranked Konoha ninja were commissioned to assassinate any Hidden Mist Village ninja who infiltrated the neutral area between the two Hidden Villages. Unknown to both, the neutral area was occupied The Byakuya.

My Job? Simply ambush both Konoha and Kiri ninja so that they do not discover The Byakuya headquarters and retreat.

But the Konoha nin were too stubborn for their own good.

One of them even went as far as abandoning the mission just to save his comrade from being hit from one of our assailants jutsus.

We watched as the Konoha shinobi retreated, now with one fewer among their ranks than when they began.

I don't even recognise myself. No matter how much I try to hide my actions. I'm still a killer.

But I don't want to kill anymore. I don't want to be used as a tool for revenge.

That's why I find myself in my cold and dingy room revising my plan to escape the Byakuya for good.

The clock ticked incessantly; each second felt like hammer on my nerves. It's 8.45 pm.

Most of the bounty hunters will have retired for the evening, leaving the corridors all empty. The fewer the people the eas-

"Boo! Earth to Y/N," a voice shouted down my ear, startling me from my thoughts. "Here," the man said as he placed a bowl of gray goop infront of me.

"Kakuzu?! What are you doing in my room?!"

"Eat or you'll be just bones, princess," Kakuzu said as he took a seat on my bed.

"I would rather starve than eat... that," I said as I watched the gray substance fall from the spoon like slime, "and please don't call me that Kakuzu-san."

"Still formal as ever princess. Anyways, what's got you so busy?" he asks with a hint of concern across his patchwork face.

"I think... No I will do it, I'm going to run."

"Y/N..." Kakuzu says as a sigh leaves his throat, "The Reaper will be pissed when she finds out."

"It's almost like that's the whole point," I chuckled rolling my eyes at him.

"Do you even have a plan? Where are you going to go? You don't even have any money, I swear all of your bounty money goes to your clan or something?" he rambles, his face becoming increasingly panicked.

"Do what you want Uzumaki," he scoffs.

"Awe Kakuzu-san you big softie, I know you don't mean that," I tease as I know he really wants me to be safe, "That being said, do you think I have time do one last petty thing? The byakuya has done nothing for me but rob me of my life."

"You gonna piss off The Reaper, princess? I'm listening," Kakuzu says with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

"You think I have time to steal some precious weapons from Leader-sama?"

"What are you thinking?"

"The Swords of the Mist. We have three, no?" I pondered.

"Mhm... They'll surely go for alot. Enough for you to get on your feet and support yourself," Kakuzu calculates, "You're becoming greedy Y/N."

"What can I say, you've rubbed off on me," I say with a chuckle...

"Kakuzu, why have you stayed in the Byakuya for so long?"

"Money," he says without faltering, "I have nothing outside here, no family to run back to, no village, nothing. You are just a child with much left to live and experience. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid out there."

"I'm not stupid!"

"I never said you were stupid, I said don't do anything stupid," Kakuzu says as he gets up from my bed and walks towards my door, "Good luck Uzumaki."

"Kakuzu... ," I whisper under my breath.

I get up from my desk and search my room for the nearest empty scroll.

I will no longer be a prisoner of the Byakuya.

I swiftly slip from my room and head towards the storage unit, where most of the prized weaponry belonging to the byakuya was kept.

I opened the scroll and placed it over the Swords of the Mist owned by the byakuya.

Samehada. Nuibari. Kabutowari.

"Sealing Jutsu: Storage Seal," I chanted as I watched the three swords become imbued with my own chakra. Just before the swords became completely sealed within the scroll, I bit my finger to inscribe the last parts of the jutsu with my own blood.

Blood Manipulation. It's a rare trait found within the Uzumaki Clan.

Since we have such large chakra reserves, reinforcing our blood with chakra creates sharper and more reinforced weapons.

Not to mention, the reserves of chakra can even be used to form more blood.

Now the scroll cannot be opened without my blood. I placed the scroll in my pocket and I continued my way to the back-exit of the hideout.

There really shouldn't be any-

"Halt! Who goes there?" a voice echoed throughout the dimly lit halls.

Shit, stupid Leader-sama and her patrol men.

"It's just me," I say as I slowly turn around to be met with a man in mask, painted with an eerie smile.

"Princess, what are you doing up so late?"

"Just carrying out some checks for Leader-sama. Don't worry yourself, I'll keep watch over this wing!" I say cheerily, mentally begging the patrol man to leave any minute now.

"Are you sure princess? Promise you won't tell Leader-sama?" he asks.

"Of course I won't silly!" I reassure him with a smile. As much as I hated the nickname, being heralded as the Byakuya princess comes with its perks. No one dares to suspect anything I do since The Reaper holds me in such high regard for my blood manipulation.

Now the only obstacle in my way are the door guards. I could cause a distraction but that would bring too much attention to the scene. My only choice is to deal with the guards myself.

Prying the door ever so slightly, I slip out into the outside.

"Wind style: smoke dome." I chant and thick wall of smoke emerged between me and the door guards.

"Who's there?" one of the guards chokes out.

"Blood Manipulation: Chakra Spear." I say, as I aim the blood spears towards the guards as it impales them.

Compress.

My blood slowly seeps into their circulation compressing all of their vessels, from small capillaries to the carotid and aortic arteries, causing the guards to fall to the floor gasping for air.

Release.

The jutsu shouldn't kill them. But they certainly won't wake up anytime soon.

Gathering my composure, I run straight through the densely packed forest contemplating my options once I find safety.

"Child, that's a lovely kekkei genkai you have there." A man said as he perched on a tree branch behind me, stopping me in my tracks. "I don't think I've ever met a ninja who can use blood manipulation."

Alarmed and now panicking, I tightened my grip on my kunai, wondering where on earth this person came from. A hybrid of a walking venus flytrap and a chewed dog toy looms above me, lurching on a tree.

"Who are you? And why are you here?" I retorted.

"I'm a nobody and I was wondering what a talented girl like you is doing. Are you going somewhere?"

"I don't tell strangers shit and stop avoiding my question, You don't work for the Byakuya so why are you here?"

"My, my, you sure are a feisty one. I'm here to simply recruit new members for my organisation and we could do with a kunoichi of your calibre."

"No."

"Well that was straight to the point, but surely you're not stupid, Y/N Uzumaki."

"Oh wow, big scary tree thinks I'll join his clique just because he knows my name. Go away please."

"It's clear you have no intention of joining but let me offer you a proposition instead." Said a new voice.

A voice sharper than any blade I've ever wielded. A voice which penetrated my body like a force of a million needles piercing my bones.

"There's nothing worth any value you can offer me." I turned around to meet this daunting voice, to be met with a masked man leaning against the tree t he venus flytrap man emerged out of.

"Oh I think you should hear me out, Kunoichi Thirteen or should I say Byakuya Princess."

My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach as a million thoughts raced through my mind. How does he know about my name from when I was in the academy, or about my life in the Byakuya?

"You're clearly on the run from the Byakuya but where will you go?" the masked man added,

"Surely you know you are quite well-known throughout the neighbouring regions as the red-haired kunoichi with the branding 13 on her neck. The kunoichi who can manipulate her own blood. Tell me where will you go? Back to the family who sold you off?" he chuckled as he spat in my face.

I was convinced that all life ceased to thrive after hearing his words. If I hadn't felt scared before, I certainly did now. This stranger whose known me mere minutes, knew everything about me.

"Maybe I will go back, why do you care?" I said defensively, my hands trembling as I tried to maintain my grip on my kunai.

"I think you should hear me out. You don't want to do this the hard way."

"What baseless threats. Excuse me, I have to make my way back to my family," I spat, as I watched the masked man turn his back to me as he walked into the dark abyss.

"Say hi to your sister for me!" the venus fly-trap chuckles.

Shit.

Whoever they were, they weren't good news. How did they know I was running back to my sister?

Whoever they were, they knew too much about me. It was suffocating.

Regardless, It's not stopping me from returning to the only place I have ever called home as I continue running in the direction of the Hidden Rivers Village.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Here's the first chapter my lovelies!

As I was re-reading this chapter I started to overthink a lot of what I have written. Overthinking is a bitch 🤚🏽.

Let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate the feedback.

Loving you always, Suri🎀

[mamaestapa]

Late Night Chat

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•chapter summary: There’s a storm in Cincinnati and you and Joe realize maybe the other isn’t so bad after all…

•word count: 3.4k

•warnings: sexual themes, slight angst, lots of fluff, i think that’s it?

series masterlist

——————————————————

November 2, 2022

You tossed and turned for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. The heavy rain, light flashes of lightning and loud rumbles of thunder have kept you awake since the strong storm started a couple hours ago.

You tapped your phone, huffing out a sigh of annoyance when you saw the time: 4:13 am.

You pulled the comforter off of your body and got out of bed. You took your phone off it's charger and grabbed your soft white blanket before walking out of your room and into the kitchen.

You decided to make a cup of hot tea. Your mom would always make tea for you during a storm when you were younger because something about it helped calm you down. You never have been a fan of strong thunderstorms. You love rain and a little thunder here and there, but when frequent lightning, severe storm warnings and tornado watches are added into the mix, then you get nervous.

As you were getting the tea bag out of the container from the cupboard, the power flickered. You knew it was bound to happen soon, considering how strong of a storm it is. Once the power goes out completely though, any hopes of falling back to sleep any time soon will be gone.

The Keurig beeped, signaling that the tea was done. You grabbed a spoon from the drawer next to the dishwasher and as soon as you placed the end of the spoon into the coffee cup, the power went out. The apartment was now pitch black and completely silent. You felt around the counter for your phone, but you didn't feel anything. You sighed, realizing you left it on the chair in the living room with your blanket. You placed the coffee cup back down on the marble countertop, deciding to find your phone first before you tried to walk anywhere with the hot tea in your hands. You slowly walked out of the kitchen, careful not to-

WHACK.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of your body hitting another body. You let out a yelp, fearing the worst. This would be the perfect time for someone to break in and MURDER YOU!?!

You screamed as you felt a hand reach out and touch your arm.

"Y/n, hey! It's just me."

Your heart was pounding against your chest as you sighed in relief. It wasn't an intruder, just Joe.

"Thank god," you breathed out, placing your hand on your chest, "I thought you were some psycho that broke in."

He chuckled, "I might be a little crazy, but I wouldn't say i'm a psycho. But I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

You nodded, even though you knew he couldn't see you, "It's okay."

"What are you doing up right now?"

"I couldn't sleep. Storms like this have always made it impossible for me to sleep."

Just as you finished your sentence, a loud crack of thunder shook the apartment. You jumped under Joe's touch, causing him to grip your arm tightly, yet so gentle at the same time.

"Hey, you're OK," he said softly, "promise."

"I know, I've just always gotten a little scared over severe weather."

You heard Joe sigh as he removed his hand from your arm, "Well, I'm afraid this storm won't stop anytime soon. Did you try to get any sleep?"

You shrugged, "A little. I came out here to make some tea and sit on the couch for a bit until I could fall back asleep, but now that there's no power I don't think I'll be able to."

"Stay here for a second. Do you have your phone?"

"No, it's on the couch."

Joe's face lit up from the light of his phone screen. He turned the flashlight on causing your eyes to be drawn to his lit up body.

His dirty blonde hair was messy and his blue eyes looked tired. He didn't have a shirt on, just a pair of gray joggers. You looked away from him as he walked into the living room and grabbed your phone from the chair. He walked back into the kitchen and handed it to you.

"Here. Go sit in the living room. I'll be right back."

You turned on your flashlight, grabbing your tea from the counter and heading into the living room. A big flash of lightning lit up the apartment as you placed the mug down on a coaster and sat on the chair. You had just thrown the blanket over your legs when Joe walked back into the living room, holding onto a lantern, lots of candles, and a lighter.

He sat the lantern down on the table, along with the many candles.

"Where'd you get all those candles?" you asked.

Joe picked up the lighter, lighting each candle one by one.

"You want the real reason or?" he trailed off with a smirk.

"I knew it. Pre-game orgy right?"

Joe chuckled, "Damn, I guess you caught me. I'll have to tell Ja'Marr to cancel next weeks then."

You laughed at his response before taking a sip of your tea and asking him, "Okay but seriously, why do you have all these candles?"

Joe had a somber look on his face as he looked down at the candles. He sucked in a breath as he lit the last candle.

"Every year my ex-girlfriend and I would light these on our anniversary. It was tradition for us. One of us would come home and have some sort of romantic dinner set up for the other," he examined the candle as he continued speaking, a soft smile appeared on his face, "and we'd light these candles, put them out on the table or the bedroom." he put the candle back down, "was very romantic."

You frowned, feeling terrible for making him bring up his ex.

"I'm sorry Joe, I didn't mean to-."

He cut you off, "Don't be sorry, you didn't do anything wrong. You asked, I answered." He picked up the lantern that looked like it would be used for camping and turned it on. The light from the many candles and lantern made the living room light up with a soft yellow glow.

Joe placed the lantern down in the middle of coffee table and looked at you, "There, now I can see that beautiful fa- light."

You looked at Joe with raised eyebrows as he stood by the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. It almost sounded like he was going to say face and not light...but who knows, you’re probably just hearing things.

"Well, I think I'm going to try to get some sleep. Good night Y/n.”

He started to walk away, getting ready to walk into his bedroom when you called out to him.

"Joe?"

He stopped and turned around, "Yeah?"

"Stay? Please, I don't really want to be alone right now." you said softly as a blush made it's way onto my cheeks.

Joe slowly nodded and smiled softly at you.

"Okay. Let me grab a sweatshirt first."

He disappeared into his room and a few minutes later came back into the living room wearing his pink Nike sweatshirt and carrying a gray blanket. He plopped down on the couch and draped the blanket over his legs. As the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, the storm continued. The rain grew heavier and the thunder more frequent. Joe noticed you had started to get tense.

He cleared his throat, "You know, we've lived together for almost two months now and I feel like I don't know you."

It's true. You and Joe have been living together for a few months now, but neither of you have taken the chance to get to know the other. You weren't on good terms for a little while, but you think you both have started to warm up to each other. You have to get to know each other at some point if you’re going to live together for the next seven or eight months. Now would be the perfect time to do that.

"What do you wanna know?" you asked, tucking your legs up onto the chair.

He shrugged, "Tell me about yourself."

"Usually I'd start with my name, but you already know that," you smiled, making him chuckle softly, you continued, "I'm twenty five years old, I was born in Denver,Colorado. I grew up in Arizona though. I moved to Tucson when I was two. I lived there my whole life, went to college at the University of Arizona and graduated with a bachelors degree in fashion design. Um, I moved to Phoenix when I graduated and I worked for a fashion magazine for a few years. I took a lot of work trips, Cincinnati was one of them, and I fell in love with the city so that's how I got here.”

Joe nodded, "Nice. Do you miss Arizona?"

"Sometimes. All my family and friends live there, but I needed a change. There's better opportunities for me here in Cincinnati."

Joe just nodded. You decided to ask him the same question he asked you.

"Okay your turn, tell me about yourself."

He sighed and sat up on the couch, looking at you as he spoke, "I'm twenty five, I'm the quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, I'm a Heisman trophy winner, a national champion,"

You smiled as he rattled off all of accomplishments. He had a lot to be proud of.

"Yeah, yeah I know all that stuff. Tell me something I wouldn't know."

He smiled, "Okay. Well, I was born in Iowa, but I moved to a small town in Ohio called Athens when I was a few years old. I grew up there and then when I graduated high school I went to Ohio State."

"Did you play football there?" you asked, genuinely curious since you only knew he played at LSU.

"I'm getting there, hold on."

You chuckled and let him continue.

"So while I was at Ohio State, I redshirted my Freshman year and was a backup during my Sophomore and Junior year."

You raised your eyebrows, "So you didn't play at all?"

"I mean I played, but not as much as I wanted to. I didn't want to be on the bench for my whole college football career, so I transferred to LSU after I graduated from OSU with my bachelor degree."

"Did you want to leave Ohio?"

He shrugged, "I mean I didn't want to leave, but I thought it was best for my career."

You nodded, showing him you understood. You thought the same thing when you left Arizona to come to Ohio.

"So I moved to Louisiana. Became starting quarterback for LSU and was working towards my Masters degree. Um, In the twenty nineteen, twenty twenty season, our team finished with a fifteen and 0 record and we beat Clemson in the National Championship. I graduated from LSU with a Masters in Liberal Arts and then I moved back home to Ohio, lived with my parents for a bit and then I got drafted by the Bengals."

You didn't know a lot of the stuff Joe was telling you, so it was very nice to here his story and get to him better.

"You've got a good story Joe."

He smiled, "Yeah. I wouldn't be where I am without the people who got me here though. My story may be pretty awesome, but I wouldn't be here without them. But," he stretched, causing his voice to be strained, "that's a story for another day."

He brought his arms down and changed positions on the couch so he was facing you. Both of you were wide awake now as the storm continued to rage on.

"Let's play twenty questions." Joe stated, "we go back and forth, they'll be simple. I'll go first."

"Okay, sounds good." you giggled, picking up your tea and taking a sip.

"Favorite color?"

"Y/F/C. You?"

"Ohhh, fancy." Joe teased, "I like orange."

You rolled your eyes.

"What?" Joe asked, a wide grin on his face.

"Orange, seriously? It's only because your teams color is orange isn't it?"

He laughed, "No, no. I've always liked the color orange."

You laughed, "Sure. Okay next question, um...other than football, what sports did you play in high school?"

"So I played football obviously, and I also played basketball."

"Ah," you nodded, "quite the athlete."

He chuckled, "Yeah. What about you?"

"I ran cross country my Junior year and played soccer all four years of high school. I didn't enjoy cross country, but I loved soccer."

"You play in college?" Joe asked.

You shook your head, "No, it was just something I did in high school."

"Yeah, that's how I felt about basketball." A smirk grew on his face as he spoke, "I got one. Do you have any tattoos or piercings?"

"I have three piercings, my ears and belly button. And one tattoo," you hesitated, "that is in a location that I won't name."

Joe smirked, "Oh?" his smirk dropped and eyes widened, "Do, do you have a tramp stamp?"

You let out a laugh and covered your mouth as your laughter continued. Joes smirk turned into a grin a the sound of your laugh. You composed yourself and shook your head, "No! Oh my god, I don't have a tramp stamp."

Joe cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you, “Then where is it?

You face turned red as you said, jokingly, "If you're lucky maybe you'll find out."

"I'll hold you to it," he winked.

You rolled your eyes as a small smile made its way onto your face. You were actually enjoying your time talking to Joe. It was nice to get your mind off the storm, plus, it was nice getting to know him.

You continued to play twenty questions for the next hour or so as the storm continued and the was power still out. You told Joe that your favorite movie is How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, your favorite takeout is bar food, and that you had a dog named Lola growing up. You learned that Joe likes cats more than dogs, he enjoys watching Game of Thrones, and that he secretly loves Taylor Swift.

You think playing this silly game has made you realize maybe Joe isn't so bad after all.

You think there's a chance you and Joe could be friends after tonight.

"You know," you said, a playful smirk on your face, "you're not as bad as I thought you were, Joe."

Joe chuckled, "I could say the same about you."

You smiled at him and pulled the blanket closer to your body as you snuggled further into the chair, leaning your head on your hand. You could feel your eyes starting to grow heavy, but you stayed awake for a little while longer.

"So Joe," you smirked, "you talk to Amelia lately?"

Joe shook his head as a smile pulled at his lips.

"No, I haven't spoken to her since our date."

"That's too bad."

He shrugged, "Eh, I knew it wasn't going to work out. It's not a huge deal."

You just nodded. He knows what he wants. That's good, I guess?

"You meet anyone special yet?" He asked, seeming like he was genuinely curious.

You smiled, "Yeah, there's a few." you felt your face heat up as you thought about Evan, specifically. The two of you have started to talk more and more as the weeks have gone on.

He even asked you out on a date.

Which you said yes to. You figured it wouldn't hurt to go out on a date with Evan. He is such a sweet guy. It would be nice for you to go downtown for an evening, and going with Evan makes it even better.

The only issue though: you haven't told Joe about the date.

He doesn't really need to know though. It's none of his business who you go out with it, right?

You’re just going to go out with Evan to see how things go. If there's something there, there's something there. You don't want to force anything or rush into a relationship too quickly either.

But, you have nothing to worry about. You have a really good feeling about Evan.

Joe smiled, "Well I'm glad you're starting to meet some people.”

"Yeah?" you asked, a small smile making its way onto your face.

"Yeah." He stated with a nod as his soft smile was still displayed on his lips. Even though he was smiling, you could see Joe carried a slight sense of disappointment in his demeanor.

Weird... you thought to yourself. You shrugged it off, figuring you were just mistaking his tiredness as disappointment.

You and Joe continued to make small conversation for the next twenty minutes as the storm passed. As he was telling you a story about his Junior prom, you felt your eyes grow heavier and heavier. Soon, you were taken over by a peaceful slumber, falling asleep and staying asleep on the chair in the living room for the rest of the night.

Joe's pov:

"And then we went back to my best friends house and..." I let out a chuckle as I saw Y/n had fallen asleep on the chair. I smiled softly as I watched her chest rise and fall with each breath she took.

She looked so peaceful, yet so uncomfortable at the same time.

I threw the blanket off of my body and stood from the couch, stretching my limbs. I was exhausted. I could have easily slept through the storm, but Y/n asked me to keep her company, and I couldn't say no.

So I stayed up for an hour and a half just talking to Y/n. It was nice. I've learned a lot about her and I think it's safe to say she and I have both realized maybe we're not so bad after all. We started off on the wrong foot, but things are already looking better after our conversations from tonight.

I blew out all of the small candles on the table before grabbing the blanket and my phone from the couch. Items in hand, I walked over to Y/n, who was curled up on the chair with her head resting on her arm that was draped over the arm rest. I smiled to myself and pulled her blanket up further so it covered her bare shoulders. The movement of the blanket caused her to move in her sleep. I grimaced as I saw her move, thinking I had just woken her up. She only snuggled further into the couch, adjusting her arm so it was more comfortable for her to lay on.

"Goodnight, sweets. Sleep well." I whispered, knowing she was sound asleep so she wouldn't hear me.

As I started to walk away, I heard a faint voice say, "G'night Joe."

I stopped in my tracks and turned around, seeing Y/n re-adjust herself once again before falling back to sleep. I smiled. She probably didn't even realize she woke up momentarily to say goodnight to me. I turned back around and made my way back into my bedroom. I got into my bed, getting under the covers and laying my head down. I let out a sigh as laid in bed and looked up at the ceiling. My thoughts wandered to the last couple hours. It made me happy knowing Y/n and I were finally—well hopefully finally, on good terms with each other.

I did exactly what Logan told me to do if I wanted to make things better between us.

Just get to know her.

So that's what I did. I think it's safe to say it worked. Y/n isn't so bad after all and I think she feels the same way about me now.

I don't know what exactly it is that I'm feeling about Y/n, but I do know one thing.

I care about her a lot more than I should as just her roommate.

hey loves!

so you and joe are finally starting to get along, we're going to see some drama soon…it's gettin' good!

this is definitely my favorite chapter i've written so far for this story!

i hope everyone is enjoying this story, it's been so much fun to write. i appreciate all of the comments, votes and views. your excitement for updates and love for the series makes me so happy!! i appreciate every single one of you🤍

tags:

@jackharloww @ilovejoeburroww @dandelionwrites8 @ijustcrypretty @sinners-98-world @a-moment-captured @stainednailpolishremover @spooky-stoner

[chloe-caulfield94]

The theme of broken promises in Life is Strange S1

A very important theme present in Life is Strange is that of broken promises. In Season 1 we learn that Max and Chloe have been best friends since they were both little kids, but when Max’s parents moved her to Seattle, she didn’t maintain any contact with Chloe. Max’s move to Seattle coincided in time with Chloe’s father’s death. Chloe felt hurt that her best friend didn’t provide her with the emotional support she desperately needed after her father’s death. In “Farewell” we learn additional details. That on the day Max left Arcadia Bay, she promised Chloe to always love her.

Max: “You don’t have to worry about anything changing. You’re dealing with so much other stuff. You don’t deserve any of this. Chloe, listen. Even if I never … Even if we’re moving for good ... We’re always together, okay? Even when we’re apart. We’re still Max and Chloe. I will always, always love you”.

During that fateful week in October of 2013, Max REPEATEDLY promised Chloe friendship, care and support.

Max: “I'm with you to the end, Chloe. You know that”.

Max: “Sorry San Fransisco. Chloe comes first!”

Max: “Chloe, you’re priceless”.

Max: “I’ll always believe you, Chloe”.

Max: “I never want to hurt you! Ever!”

Max: “I always wanted my life to be special, an adventure. But not without you!”

Max: “You are my number one priority now! You are all that matters to me!”

Max: “It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I have to save Chloe!”

Max: “Nobody is going to hurt Chloe ever again!”

All of those dialogue lines are NOT optional. Max always says all of that.

There’s also another, optional promise Max makes if she refused to overdose Chloe in Episode 4.

Max: “I am never leaving you again!”

Max even promised to William she would always protect his daughter.

Max: “William, I just want you to know that whatever happens, I'll always be here for Chloe”.

Furthermore, Max went back to the past and promised a thirteen-year-old Chloe that she would never abandon her and that she would always have her back.

Max: “Because I will never abandon you, Chloe. I'll always have your back”.

From Max’s perspective, that promise was made on the 10th of October 2013, a day before the Storm, but Chloe had heard that promise five years earlier.

Max knew how the five year absence of her best friend had hurt Chloe, in a period of time when she needed Max’s support the most.

Max: “Listen, Chloe ... I’m sorry I haven’t been out to see you more. That was wrong. You’re my best friend”.

And she saw how devastated Chloe was when she learnt that Rachel had broken her promise to her. Rachel had promised to leave town with Chloe and to start fresh, together, someplace else. But then Max and Chloe discovered that Rachel had found someone else that she wanted to leave town with.

Chloe: “What I wouldn't give to leave this place and never look back ...”

Rachel: “What’s stopping us?”

Chloe: “Us? Are you serious?”

Rachel: “There’s nothing keeping me here. Not anymore”.

Chloe: “So if I came to you tomorrow and told you to pack your bags ...”

Rachel: “I’m serious. Let’s do it, Chloe. Let’s leave this place forever”.

Chloe: “Rachel ... stop. If you don’t mean this, it’s just making me feel like shit that this life you’re describing isn’t going to happen”.

Rachel: “For fuck’s sake! I've never been more serious in my life!”

Chloe: “I can’t believe she was banging Frank. Rachel straight up lied to my face. Why didn't she say anything?”

Chloe was crushed by that revelation. She reacted with sadness and anger. She felt unwanted, not good enough, rejected by everyone. Like someone nobody would ever choose. Like a toy other people simply throw out once they get bored with it.

Max felt bad about breaking her promise to Chloe. In Episode 1, looking at the picture of her and Chloe she says that she has to reach out to her and that the longer she waits, the harder it will be.

Max: “Max and Chloe. Best friends forever. Who even says that anymore? I’m going to have to call Chloe eventually and find out what she’ll say. The longer I wait, the worse it’ll be. Idiot”.

Five years later she didn’t forget about her broken promise and she felt the right thing to do would be to reach out and make up for the hurt she’s caused.

Life is Strange shows that broken promises are a source of pain, for both sides. Wouldn’t you agree that a more thematic conclusion would be for Max to keep her promise of friendship, care and support she made to Chloe, to stick by her best friend in her darkest hour, to not give up on Chloe even if Chloe gave up on herself, to save her life, to give her a chance at a better future, one filled with love, friendship, care and hope instead of loneliness, resentment, neglect and desperation? Wouldn’t it be a better conclusion if Max, knowing how much the broken promises made to Chloe by her and Rachel hurt Chloe, elected to keep her promise this time? If given the opportunity to unbreak her promise, she did so, instead of breaking it for the final time, resulting in Chloe’s death? What would it say about Max if she was able to repeat a promise over and over again only to break it?

I am of the opinion that Chloe, the teenager on strong prescription anti-depressants, with likely history of suicidal thoughts, who’s had extremely low self-esteem for years and who’s experienced multiple brushes with death in the days immediately preceding the Storm is not in a state of mind to make an informed and conscious decision to die. Which is why I also think that Chloe’s offer to be sacrificed cannot be perceived as her releasing Max from her promise. When you promise to protect someone, that includes protecting them from themselves. When the person you promised to protect starts exhibiting self-destructive behaviour, you do all in your power to stop it, not indulge in their suicidal ideation.

You keep the promises you made to your friends because you want to, not because you have to. You keep promises made to your friends because you care about them. If you don’t want to keep a promise made to your friend, if you are anxiously awaiting to be released from such a promise and upon being released you refuse to fulfil it, then you are not a friend to them. The relationship between you is not a friendship, but a contract. Whether Chloe wanted to release Max from her promise or not is irrelevant. Because Max would want to keep her promise even after being told she doesn’t have to. Because of course she doesn’t have to. She’s never had to. You keep promises made to your friends because you care about them, not because you are forced to do so.

[intersex-support]

I've always suspected I was intersex since I was young and heard of it, now that I'm older and I'm getting close to a diagnosis of PCOS, I got checked for high testosterone I have high testosterone, even after everything; I still feel so hesitant to call myself intersex. I just want advice about this? It's been hard for me to accept this despite all the traits I show. I feel so hesitant to use intersex terms, to call myself intersex. Advice?

Hi anon.

You're definitely not alone in struggling to accept your intersex identity and feeling conflicted about what it means for you. When I first got diagnosed with my intersex variation, I felt really overwhelmed and emotional. Even though I was already a little bit familiar with what intersex meant, realizing that it applied to me, and that I was actually intersex, brought up all these other questions and insecurities about my gender, my childhood, other parts of my identity. And so, so many of my intersex friends have had similar experiences.

I think something that makes it really hard to accept yourself as intersex is the amount of systemic discrimination we face. We grow up in a world founded around compulsory dyadism--the way that the (mythical) sex binary is forced onto everyone, and how people who deviate from the sex binary are erased, "fixed," and have our intersex traits eradicated. When we grow up in a society where every form only has an "m" and "f" box, where there's all this shame surrounding things like body hair, micropenises, etc, where we're told that intersex is incredibly "rare"--it's so hard to feel like we can actually exist as intersex! Our society makes it feel like it isn't even possible in the first place, and then also places all these dehumanizing and pathologizing stereotypes on us once we do find out we are intersex.

But the truth is, of course we're allowed to exist as intersex, and we aren't rare! One thing that's really beautiful to me about the intersex community is that we have so much variety, in terms of our different diagnoses and life experiences. There truly is not one singular universal intersex experience. There's not a "right" or "wrong" way to be intersex. There's as many different intersex experiences as there are intersex people. You know that you have intersex traits, you have test results, you are the expert on your body. You are intersex enough, and your experiences are a meaningful and valuable part of the intersex community.

It's definitely a journey to embrace your intersex identity, and it's not something you need to rush before you're ready. I'll share some things that really helped me when I was in that process, and other intersex followers, feel free to add on things that helped you!

Learning more about intersex history, culture, and politics. It was super meaningful for me to understand that there is an intersex community and that we do have this in depth history, that we're not alone and that people have been intersex for years and years! You can check out this post for a bunch of resources about intersex community, videos, art, articles, etc. It helped me a lot to find people experiencing intersex joy and understanding that as a possibility.

Practicing calling myself intersex in welcoming spaces. At first, I was only out as intersex online in an anonymous blog, because that felt like a safer way to practice referring to myself as intersex without having to come out to people yet.

Joining in intersex community spaces and lurking! I wasn't necessarily ready to start talking about my experiences right away, but meeting other intersex people who welcomed me was super important. If you're under 30, @interactyouth has a discord server. Interconnect also has a discord server and online support group meetings for people of all ages. @intersexbookclub is a super great community that has a discord server and regular book club meetings to discuss books.

Taking it slow and practicing self care. Discovering that you're intersex can be such an emotional experience. For me, journaling is a way that I really like to help process my thoughts and take care of myself. It can sometimes be helpful to incorporate whatever self care looks like for you.

Overall, know that you are intersex, you are allowed to call yourself intersex, and you are not an imposter here. You belong here, and there's a whole community that has your back.

Welcome to the intersex community. I'm glad you're here 💜💜💜

[elisysd]

The Night We Met – Lord Huron

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

Forty-eight hours earlier, Lyanna thought that she would spend three days of breaks enjoying doing nothing and seeing Charles, maybe even call Kika to spend the time. And now she was spending her last day of break brooding in her pajamas and in her bed. The only thing left that she had planned was her phone call with Kika. But instead of it being a happy one, it turned into as sad one. She told Kika what happened with Charles. She needed someone to vent to. But unfortunately for her who thought Kika would be on her side, she discovered that it would not be the case. 

Kika spent an hour listening to the actress explaining to her what had happened and why, from her point of view, she wasn’t wrong. Charles was the problem to Lyanna. She made him clear in the past that she needed someone who would respect her boundaries, something that Charles had already crossed. She had limits, and talking about her past was one of them. Charles didn’t seem to understand that. He was pushing her to talk about it while she didn’t want to. She was not ready, and she never knew if she would be one day. How could he not understand something as basic as that?

Kika listened to her patiently without interrupting her. When she finally felt that her friend had finished her tirade, she told her calmly:

“You know Lyanna, I don’t know you for very long but I think that you and Charles are more alike than what you think. I don’t want to say things that I shouldn’t, especially because it’s not my place to tell you that, but Charles’ life has not always been perfect you know. Far from it. We all have scars; Charles is no exception. If you would just talk to him and ask him, I’m sure he would tell you.”

But Lyanna was too proud to admit that Kika might be right. She would rather to stick to her guns. It was easier than to admit that maybe she had been too harsh on the Monégasque.

So to avoid thinking about Charles, she started burying herself in her work. It has always been her escape. And so, the last thing she expected was for her work environment to become toxic. She could thank David for that. It all began as soon as she came back to shoot her scene. David cornered her, a snarky smile on his lips.

“Well, well, well I didn’t know that your type of men was the little rich ones, Lyanna.”

He saw the rumors online. Obviously.

“I must say, well done though. I have to admit that I didn’t take you for that type of women. But you’re right after all, you have to secure a future for yourself once your career in Hollywood will be over.”

“What are you implying?” asked Lyanna, glaring at him. She hated the misogyny that was coming out of his mouth.

“We all know that, in Hollywood, when a woman is past her thirties, she is no longer of interest. I just don’t understand how someone like you managed to bag Charles Leclerc. That guy is filthy rich, he could have anyone he wants and yet he chooses you who are nothing special. Well done.”

This shouldn’t have shaken her, but it did. He career was a sensitive topic. One of her biggest fear was to lose it. She was trying to no think about it but David was right, as painful as it was to admit. Ageism was a real thing in Hollywood. She was only twenty three but she knew that if she had to reach her peak in her career it would be between now and the next five years. After that she would not be considered anymore for important roles. It would be given to a new actress, a new face young and beautiful. She tried her best to not show David that he had struck a nerve, but the smirk of his partner made her realise that it was a waste of time.

In the next days, to try to forget how Monaco had turned gloomy for her, she let her job consume her. She was the first one to arrive on set in the morning and the last one to leave. She knew that it was not healthy but it was her coping mechanism. It was also a good way for her to not risk unexpectedly running into Charles. She even avoided taking the elevator in case he would take it too. And that would put her in a very uncomfortable position. She would rather be out of breath after walking the four flights of stairs than endure that.

The conversation with Kika replayed on her mind. Deep down, she knew that she was being unfair to Charles. He was her only friend here and she could not help but think that she had messed up big time. Monaco felt lonely without him. But she didn’t know how she could fix things. Did Charles even want her to fix things? She suspected that a simple sorry would not be enough. Especially if, as Kika had mentioned, he too had gone through difficult times in the past. She said some cruel things to him. She was curious about what Kika meant by saying that they were alike and that Charles had some invisible scars too. She knew that the answers to her questions were at her fingertips, or more like a Google research. But it would be like betraying Charles. And at the same time, she doubted that after their fight he would like to talk to her again.

She was weak and she opened her laptop before typing Charles’ name in the search bar. And then, it felt like opening a can of worms.

The first linked she clicked on was an article about Jules Bianchi and his tragic accident in Suzuka that led to his death. She learned about Charles link to the family and how his death deeply impacted him to the point that he had a reference to Jules on his racing helmet. Speaking of helmet and tragedy, she discovered that his dad died not long before Charles made his racing debut in F1. It was wrong, she knew it, but now that she had started, she couldn't stop. She also learned about the sad story between Charles’ first win with Ferrari. How he became the youngest Grand Prix winner with the Scuderia, and the third youngest in F1 history, 24 hours after the death of one of his close friend Anthoine Hubert on the Spa’s track.

She felt sick in her stomach. Charles knew death all too well. He knew exactly what she had accused him of ignoring. She instantly regretted to have discovered all of that. But what was done was done. She could not go back and pretend not knowing. It was anchored in her. She felt like an intruder and it was too late to fix it.

As for Charles he wasn’t feeling better. He was bitter and upset after his fight with Lyanna. A phone call with Pierre was supposed to make him feel better, not worse. He was trying to figure out what and when it went wrong between Lyanna and him, while one the other side to the phone, Pierre was slumped on his sofa, a glass of coke in one hand and looking at his girlfriend leaning on the balcony, on the phone with the very person Charles was frustrated with.

“I just don’t understand Pierre. It just doesn’t make sense. I want to be there for her, I want to help her. What’s wrong with that?”

Pierre sighed.

“Did you even think that maybe she doesn’t want you to help her. I know you mean well Charles but sometimes you can be a lot, and I mean A LOT, to handle. You have this tendency to act like a knight in shining armor, always wanting to fix people. But you know, not everyone needs to be fixed. Maybe Lyanna is one of them. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to.”

“I want to be a good friend Pierre.”

“And you will be. But it has to be on her own terms. Not yours.”

“What should I do then. Say sorry? Sorry for what? Act like nothing ever happened between us? I can’t do that. Some things were said and I know it was in the spur of the moment, but I can’t ignore them.”

“Maybe try to not be intimidating.”

“What do you mean?” said Charles, surprised.

“Listen, you have this way to love people that can be a little intimidating to some. Like, you always make sure tat the person feels included in conversations, to hold their stares and it’s great. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, okay. It’s just that maybe it scared her off a little. I don’t know her but from what I saw when we ate dinner at your place, she is really shy and quiet. And you are sometimes a little too much, Charles, admit it.”

“I’m what I am Pierre. I won’t change and I won’t excuse myself for being this way.”

And if Pierre wasn’t enough, soon it was Andrea, his coach and friend that was bothering him. It all started when Andrea noticed that Charles was pushing harder than usual during their work out sessions. He did what all coaches would have done when noticing their trainees being too hard on themselves: he told him to calm down. To which Charles just brushed it off.  

“Okay Charles, stop you’re going to end up hurt if you keep pushing like that. And we don’t want that. The season is shitty enough as it is, the last thing we need is you being hurt. What’s wrong?”

“Guess” Charles retorted, wiping his forehead, and grabbing his water bottle before opening it and taking a long sip of cold water.

“Oh I see. Is that about that actress that all the media talked about? You’ve been rejected?” Andrea tried to joke but only got a side glance from Charles in return.

“Why everyone thinks I fancy her, hum? Can’t a guy and a girl be friends without any questions or rumors being made up? I’m sick of it. We’re friends for God’s sake!”

“Okay, okay. Relax I was joking.”

Andrea didn’t insist any further. When Charles was like that, it was better to let him cool off on his own.

“It’s just… It’s a mix of things you know. The season is definitely not what I expected, I don’t know if it’s ever going to get better. Don’t get me wrong I love Ferrari and I want nothing more than to win with them but I also have to think about what I really want and what’s best for me. There is a dream and then there is reality. I have to be realistic… If I really want to win a championship, is Ferrari the one who will give me the car to do so? Or should I go with a team that knows how to make a winning car? My contract is coming to his end, I have to think about the future. I want guarantees. I feel that I am at a crossroads and that important choices have to be made. I'm afraid I'll screw up Andrea and then blame myself for the rest of my life.”

At this moment, it was not Charles the grown man that was in front of Andrea, it was Charles who look like a little kid, completely lost and vulnerable. Andrea made Charles sit on the bench of the gym.

“You know it’s normal to doubt yourself Charles. It’s healthy. But maybe you need to see someone to help you sort your thoughts out. You can’t keep everything bottled up like that, it’s going to destroy you at the end.”

“I don’t need a therapist if it’s wat you’re implying. I spent my whole life going through stuff and figure things out on my own. I won’t start getting help now.”

“It would not be a shame. No one would look at you differently or pity you if it’s what you’re scared off.”

Charles shrugged and got up while packing his things signaling to Andrea that both the work out session and the discussion were over. It was time for him to meet his mom for lunch and hopefully she would not talk about his work or Lyanna. He needed a break from all of that.

But it was a hopeless task, because shortly after the son and his mother had settled down on the terrace of the restaurant, the woman began to ask him questions about Lyanna. Charles felt as if he was in a loop in which the same conversation was happening over and over again.

“I’m sorry but it’s all my clients at the hair salon talk about. And I won’t insist, if she is just a friend, it’s okay but I must admit she is really pretty.”

“Mom…” sighed Charles.

“I’m just saying. I’m not implying anything but surely, you’re not blind, you noticed.”

He rolled his eyes, pleading inwardly for the discussion to change quickly.

“By the way, I have this thing that I’m supposed to go to. You know about the film festival of Monte-Carlo. Well I’m invited and I wanted to know if you’d like to be my plus one. I know how much you love cinema and I don’t want to be alone so… Artur is coming to and he brings Carla.”

“Just tell me you don’t want to be third wheeling.”

“Yeah that too. But it would be the occasion for you to dress up and to enjoy a night out, it’s been a while.”

“Well, when you present things this way how could I refuse?”

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