#guess it wasn't that much of a misery

[suiana]

yandere! villain x gn! villain reader x yandere! hero part 2

"I don't want to remember anymore."

"It hurts so much."

The villain rubs your back, crouching beside you as you sob into your palms. He stays silent, allowing you to wallow in misery as he stays beside you, a sign of comfort.

Contrary to popular belief, the villain was much more sympathetic than the world class hero who was once your boyfriend. It was a sad situation. Because who would've guessed that your boyfriend whom you loved with all of your heart would just give you away like that?

Sure your relationship was falling apart but he had claimed that he loved you! And he wasn't one to lie, no, not at all! He had always kept his promises! So why would he break one as important as his love for you?

Were those 'I love you's' nothing more than lip service? What about all those times he smiled so sweetly at you that you felt you could just die? Was that nothing more than an act?

It can't be. You refuse to believe it.

"He's such an asshole... I loved him-! I truly did!"

You continued to weep into your palms as the villain remains silent. Did this make him uncomfortable? You sniffled, rubbing away your tears as you turned away from the villain, murmuring apology after apology as you tried to calm yourself down.

You didn't want to burden him after all. Not when he had graciously taken you in, shown you more love than your ex boyfriend ever did and practically spoiled you with attention and riches! And he wasn't even your boyfriend!

Yeah he might've be been the reason why your boyfriend gave you up but still! Your boyfriend didn't even make any signs of trying to keep you with him!

You still couldn't understand why he did what he did. And it still hurts you till this day, a month after his betrayal. Your eyes began to sting once more, tears pricking as the villain sighs and kneels down in front of you. You looked up at him, tears rolling down your stained cheeks as he beckoned for you to use him as comfort to which you gladly accepted.

"I want to forget... Forget everything he did... Oh... It hurts so much! My heart is bleeding!"

You wept into his chest, temporarily ignoring the fact that you're staining his shirt with tears and snot. But it's not like the villain minded. For he merely caressed your head, gently soothing you as he looks at you like you're the only thing in the world.

"Then... I'll help you forget."

The villain mumbles into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist. He gently rubs his hands on your sides, the heat of his body distracting you momentarily as your breath hitches.

He nibbles on your earlobe as your heart races, flustered at his intimate touches and the tone of his voice. The rich tone, the slight hint of seduction... Was he implying that he sleep with you to forget?

"...Such a pretty thing like yourself... Should never be crying over a man like him."

Your blush only grows as he stares into your eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Yes... You didn't need the hero anymore. Not when you had this man here with you. Someone who would actually appreciate you and your efforts.

And you just knew that he was being genuine with his feelings.

How? It was quite simple, really. Would any other man build statues of you? Offer to blow up the world just to see you happy? Or give you the right to end his life whenever you felt like he was being too rude to you?

The fact that he never forced you to reciprocate either was something you really appreciated. I mean, he was a villain! You'd expect him to force you to love him after his devotion... But he never did anything like that.

And it causes your heart to flutter. To flutter in a way that it never did when you were with the hero. So, perhaps it was time to repay the villain for everything he's done for you? It's fine if he's obsessed. At least he loves you.

But it turns out you two were both thinking very different things.

"My dear I meant that I can alter your memory... Though if you'd prefer we do that... I'm not opposed to it~"

The attractive villain chuckles as you stare at him wide-eyed. You quickly button back your shirt as you hide your face in his chest. Ah! What a pervert you were... Don't worry, he loves it <3

"I love you darling ♡"

You soon fell asleep. And when you awoke, you were in the villain's lap, your head against his chest as he reads a book. Why were your eyes so tired..? Were you crying? Why?

"...My dear, why was I-"

"We watched a sad movie together. It's okay if you forgot, I'll be here to remind you."

Ah, so that's why. You nodded, looking up at your lover with delighted eyes as you kissed his cheek. Hm... Now that you woke up, you were in the mood for some destruction!

So that's what you two did. And what better place to destroy than your hometown? And so, the two of you stood in the middle of a destroyed city, holding hands and enjoying as it went up in flames.

A familiar man, aka the hero, stares at you both with wide eyes, running after you and your beloved villain as you two laugh at the destruction of your hometown. This city that you've once considered home... Yes, you were currently destroying it. Why? Because why not?

It betrayed you. Hurt you beyond imagination! Your parents never believed in you. Nor did the neighbours or anyone else, really! Calling you names, berating you... And more importantly, the stupid hero who refused to save you! Damn him!

It was a few years back if you weren't wrong. There was a villain attacking the shop you shopping at and you were trapped under some debris. You vividly remember the way he smiled at you, thinking you were saved, you outstretched your hand, whispering words of praise to him. But your hopes were crushed as he merely turned away, refusing to help you out. That was your last straw. the final thing that made you snap.

So you left, turning to a life of crime and villainy as your partner in crime helped you with everything. He was your ride or die, the one who helped you out in everything, he was all you needed.

After all, he took you in when no one else wanted to. Taught you all there was to being a villain, comforted you when no one else wanted to... To think that a villain would be more compassionate than a hero.

You grit your teeth as your hate for heroes grew exponentially, especially one particular male one. To call yourself a hero, you were supposed to help everyone, to be the bringer of justice. Yet why did he not do any of that for you?

You turned your head to face the hero as he approached you with soft steps. That look... Was he pitying you? You glared at him, frowning as he stammered on his words.

"y/n-! what are you-"

"And... who are you? To call me by that name, hm?"

You relished in the way his eyes widened, the way his jaw drops ever so slightly. Yes... That look! Fall into the pit of endless despair! Look at what he did to you! Regret it all!

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as he fell to his knees, eyes shaking as he got on his knees and crawled to you. To think that the hero who refused to help you would be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Ah, the feeling was just so satisfying~!

"You... You don't remember?"

You laughed.

"Remember? Of course I do. You left me to die."

His mouth went dry as he looked away from your eyes. Your eyes rolled, annoyed at his hypocrisy as you began to walk away to your lover. He had a smug look on his features as he welcomed yiu

"Goodbye hero. May the next time we meet be at your funeral."

And so the both of you left. Surprisingly enough, the hero just watched in guilty silence as he did nothing to stop you or the villain. Only observed quietly as the villain held a satisfied look on his features. Tears of pain and regret began to drop from him as your figure grew smaller, and smaller, until you were gone from view.

Officially disappearing from his life.

And it was all his fault.

taglist:

@yandere-city

@ambievert

@monsterlife123

@violetvase

@toji-whore

@cu1tvenus

@shxxaiis

@goaudduck

@yevene

@97hellgirl666

@cleaningfairylevi

[suguru-getos]

| Bully!Satoru Gojo x F!reader | Part 2 |

-> Part 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Chapter Summary: After humiliating Gojo in the cafeteria, he has better ways to force pay-back. Hey! That shirt you ruined, was expensive.

Warnings: Oh he is a real piece of shit here with a barely there moral compass. Mentions of humiliation, bul!ying, belittling, teasing. The reader is slowly getting into an auto-pilot mode.

New chapter every week, comment down below if you want to be tagged! ^^

Taglist: @mc-reborn @tvdumarvelhpsimp @alula394 @getoxmahito @knanamii @he4rts444mi @localginger22 @animeisforkings @ran6ia @creative1writings @lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @zoemaelol @shoutascoffeepot

It feels like pure humiliation, the way you walked off from the cafeteria. Satoru stood there, the warm, sticky gravy sticking to him. It feels like a sensory nightmare. White hot rage simmering through the very marrow of his bones. He exhales, glancing up just to see if there was anyone dumb enough to enjoy his misery he could stomp on. Nobody had the balls to, nobody has the balls to until you come across.

What was your fucking problem?

He walked away from the cafeteria, long strides eager to seek you out and punish you ruthlessly for your deranged and depraved, bratty behaviour. Satoru Gojo is worshipped like the literal god, who the hell are you? Meanwhile, you, amidst all your molten courage flowing in your veins, were the epitome of anxiety. You can't mistake his blazing steamy rage filled blue eyes greying… to be anything but merciful. You're not delusional.

A veiny, pale hand gripped your hair, the other wrapped around your mouth as you were dragged through the lonesome corridor. You whimpered at the burn in your scalp and before you could register what was happening, Satoru was standing in front of you. Baring his hostile teeth as he grits. "You've done it." He's almost amused, contemplating what more he can do to you, what more can you really handle… then again, does it matter if you can or can’t handle?

"Here's what's going to happen…" He pushed himself against your chest, unrelenting at how disgusting you might feel, transferring the filth on his shirt to yours. You struggled like a fish out of water. Satoru is taller, bulkier, stronger and you realize that soon enough.

"You will be my silly little pet, because guess how much this shirt costs?" He chuckled, whispering gravely against the shell of your ear. "1800 dollars, missy."

You feel shocked upon hearing the price, eyes widening as he slowly leaned his hand away so you could speak.

"Either you fucking pay me back, with interest for each day. Or you shut the fuck up and be my silly little pet for a month I will stomp on, my little useless errand girl. Sounds fitting to someone who looks like you, no?" He smirks, watching the colour fade in your eyes. He is sort of impressed by himself, the way he instantaneously thought of such a brilliant idea. That money means nothing to him, but not everyone is that blessed.

Once you finally gathered what was happening, you raised a brow. "Why should I be an errand girl to someone who collided against me and is now begging to be paid for his filthy shirt? Learn to walk properly asshole!" You spit back, eyes siren and jaw gritted.

"Kay then, I will ask your mommy and daddy to pay for their daughter's bullshit." He left your hair, the pain subsiding into a dull ache.

He wasn't fucking serious was he? You and your parents weren't essentially on the best terms, they have just shifted to Tokyo and while they would be willing to pay, your self-respect wouldn't allow you. Your mother would keep taunting you about this for the rest of your life… you really don't want that.

Satoru noticed the shift in your behaviour when he mentioned your parents - "Heh, guess they don't like you either huh?" He smirked, not caring how hard it would jab you. It kinda did.. but you couldn't care less. Not coming from him especially.

"10 days, of me being your errand girl." You wanted to be ploughed down into death once you uttered these words. There was nothing you could do anyways. Parents involving, not so much…

"A month." Satoru shrugged, smirking. He has you exactly where he wants. His sole goal is to make you cry every single day and make sure you apologize for being a little shit to him.

"And, you do whatever the fuck I say you to. If I tell you to clean my shoe with your tongue, you 'fucking' clean my shoe with your tongue."

Oh it felt like dying, like you were stabbed endlessly by a thousand swords when he said that.

"How do I know after a month you wouldn't bother me or my parents with the money?" Satoru raised a brow, smirking. "I'm a man of my word, little bitch." He squeezed your face in a single hand, watching your puckered lips. "I say you're free after a month, then you're free after a month, though you'll wish every single day that you paid me back." He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he let go of your face with a jerk, letting the back of your head collide a little with the wall.

You were so cute, small, stompable…

"See me when the school ends."

Satoru walked away with that, and your shoulders slumped. This is what it has truly come to? You needed some time to yourself after this, why are you always so pushy and so cocky? What if you didn't humiliate him… a month of sheer torture is what you've signed up for, just to not be tortured by your mother. Besides, it's a lot of money and you don't think your parents owe you because a shitty ass senior got pissed.

You dragged your feet to him, after the school ended. His whole group was present, they were busy chitchatting. Satoru perked up like a spoiled brat the moment his eyes glazed through you beneath the glasses. "My little lap bitch is hereeee~" He perked, walking towards you and smirking at how you grimace when you see the way he was treating you.

"Go, fetch us popsickles." He grinned, giving you the money. You didn't say anything, trying oh so hard not to slap him across the face and breathing out. "Mkay."

You looked up, counting the number of people, "Excluding yourself, no popsickles for you." He simply shrugged.

Oh he was getting beneath your nerves so bad. "I wouldn't buy them for myself." You explained anyway, "Don't wan' em." With that, you walked away, getting to the vending machine and getting those fucking popsickles which you rather wish were poisoned so he dies for good.

When you're back, he made sure you give them to everyone, made sure you give it to him- after opening the packet- and then dropped it.

"Whoops, gotta run again lil girl." He chuckled, his friends were… stunned too. Satoru is a cunt, they all know that. He pushes people through their limits but he's never been this much of an asshole towards any girl. Maybe because none of them did anything except slither around him and worship him.

You tear up, you have never… felt this humiliated in your life ever. Nanami gives his popsickle to Satoru, "Here, Gojo san. I don't want it. Please take it." He is so polite, kind… but his Senpai had other plans.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" He raises his voice a little, and you are left with nothing but a reminder of him demanding this money from your parents. Your feet are stoned to the ground though, unmoving. "Okay." You managed to say again, taking a deep breath as you force yourself to the vending machine yet again, bringing back his popsickle.

You thought highschool would be fun, you would make new friends, go to karaoke parties, excel in subjects, in extra curriculars, whatnot.. you never expected yourself landing into the clutches of rich asshole Gojo Satoru.

Once you're back, you unwrap it again and give it to him. For fuck's sake he finally accepted.

"Kay, gimme your number." He extends his hand with his phone on it, letting you reluctantly add your number and saving it as 'Servant'. Showing it to you to rub salt on your wounds. "Off you go, see you tomorrow." He smiled. You were relieved you don't need to see his face for the rest of the day.

Once you reached home, you cried. All the emotions overwhelming you all at once. Guess he was right, he will make you cry everyday..

The rest of the day passes by in a haze before you find yourself back in school again.

"OH good morning little errand girl!" Satoru's presence looms, he was waiting for you at the entrance, you looked up at him. Not responding for now. You needed to get to class. OH so you're being indifferent now? Satoru is pissed…

"So eager to go to class, I have a job for you though!" He snickers, watching your stompy feet come to a pause. Good, you were still listening. He will push you a little more. "During the lunch time, go and bring my lunch for me, kay? You won't eat unless I finish." He smirked, walking away.

The problem is… it's not fun anymore. At least… not how it was when you retaliated. Maybe he shouldn't have used the money thing and just teased you when you had the means to push it back. You just nodded and left.

During the lunch time, you did as directed. Bringing his plate to him in front of everyone… oh it satiated his silly little ego so much.

Though he wonders if you will snap… finally. If not, he can just push it. No? He extends his hand to Haibara who reluctantly gave his water bottle to Satoru.

Before you could process what happened, you were drenched. The white shirt now translucent, showing your bra. Everyone laughed, some of them were gawking at how the shirt does no justice to you, now that it sticks to your skin, you look much more delectable. "Oops, my hand slipped." He says again, though he knows he's pushed this one too hard. Today was only the second day. Besides, a vile feeling erupted beneath him when he felt others gawk at you. Look away. Look. THE FUCK. AWAY.

Rolling his eyes, he puts his blazer on you, "Here, go get changed.." He mumbled, your silence was not helping. Not fucking helping when you shivered at the coldness of your body, how you just… took it. You didn't even cry, this was to be expected from him anyways.

You nodded, walking towards the infirmary alone. "For fuck's sake…" Satoru snarled, whatever left of his inner conscience slapping him hard as he followed you to it. Making sure you change your clothes and gave you a juice.

You were silent again, taking it from him. "Got nothing to say?" He raises a brow, "I thought you were all big and mean…" He emphasized again.

"Nothing to say. I expected worse." You shrugged, walking away. You expected 'worse'? What kind of worse…

"What the fuck do you mean?" He holds your wrist, "You know, like beating me the fuck up or something." You looked at his eyes. Wow… you truly think of him as vile and disgusting don't you? Why does it pinch him so hard? He's done nothing but bother you and made you believe he is trash.

"Kay." He mumbles, walking away. He's the one bullying you and he's the one being bullied at the same time.

Satoru Gojo doesn't bother you for the rest of the week and the weekend after.

Monday… he asks you to hold his bag for him all the way to his home. Watches you cutely manage both yours and his bag when he could easily hold your bag and you…

You're panting softly when you reach the Gojo estate, cutting the call from your mother and texting her you'll be late. "Here's your bag." You gave it to him and he took it from you easy peasy. "Alright, well.." He can see the sweat beads on your forehead, the way you are twisting your shoulder for relief. Suguru has already stopped talking to him because of this behaviour. You look cute, even when you piss him off so bad.

"Go run home." Satoru scoffs and leaves. Maybe he should just shorten the duration from a month to 15 days… but then, would you become the rebel he liked you to be or would you just ignore him…. contemplation, contemplation… and lots of contemplation.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Could you write a hero who's broke af but is at the villians mansion taking care of them and despite being broke af they get every medicine every grocery villian requires and villian just breaks? Also, vil calls hero 'love'

The villain was where the hero had left them - on the couch, staring at the black screen of their TV.

"Did you know — this will blow your mind — that you can actually turn that thing on?" When the villain turned their head to look at them, the hero pointed at the hilariously large screen. "Or so I've been told."

"Is that so?" The villain's attention came back to the screen and the hero couldn't help but wonder if the villain's misery was growing from day to day.

The hero knew their nemesis loved to be active. They loved exercising, they loved causing trouble.

But ever since the house arrest and the ankle monitor was put on them, they had acted nearly depressed. If the hero hadn’t known them, they would have guessed it was due to their injuries.

A very messed up clavicle and a horribly cracked ankle were just two components of the entire cruel picture of bruises. According to the city, the hero was "the only person strong enough to detain" the villain.

Which didn't really bother the hero as much as the media wanted the public to believe. Hell, there were even petitions for people to sign to "protect" the hero from this incredibly dangerous mission that felt more like a vacation than anything to the hero themselves.

"You look tired," the hero said. "Would you like to take a nap?"

They left the groceries in the dining room and walked up to the couch but the villain was silent. Their eyes were still staring at the dark reflection of themselves. Without hesitation, the hero sat down next to them and debated if they should try to put their hand on the villain's thigh to comfort them.

Against their better judgment, they decided not to.

"You've been looking at that TV for like…30 minutes?" the hero said instead. "Have you eaten the breakfast I made for you?"

They hadn't. The hero had checked - but it didn't seem to matter. The villain didn't say anything.

"Look, I understand this isn't what you wanted. But I am trying to take care of you as best as I can. If you have any problems with your shoulder or if there's something else..."

Suddenly, the villain turned their head and looked at the hero. Under their eyes, the spreading dark circles were a little too visible to the hero.

"I..." The villain sounded absolutely exhausted. "I had this nightmare again."

"The one with me?"

"Yeah, but it was different, it's...ah, forget about it, love. It's stupid," the villain said. They leaned back against the pillows of the couch and closed their eyes as if they were concentrating on something.

However, the hero did notice the soft blush on their cheeks.

"That's for me to determine."

"It's really stupid." The villain looked at them again and when the hero looked into their eyes, they were sure they would have missed the villain's next words. Almost embarrassed, they stared at their own hands. Getting lost in the villain's eyes came a little too easy to them. It wasn't like the hero wanted or provoked it. It just happened. And there was nothing they could do about it.

After all, this was their job. They were getting paid to be here, even though it left them with a really bad aftertaste. Somewhere deep down, they wished they could have done this without receiving payment in the first place. For the sake of compassion.

"Stupid is okay," the hero said. "I think talking about it could help, I think...I think you carry a lot of stuff around and never got to share it with anyone. That's why it is gnawing on you. Especially now that you're injured and rely on someone else."

"You're my enemy, so I shouldn't tell you in the first place," the villain argued.

"Your dream was about me, so technically-" the hero raised an index finger "-I have the right to know about it."

The villain narrowed their eyes. "That's not how it works, love."

If the villain didn't want to talk, the hero supposed they couldn't make them. Obviously, they were familiar with a lot of interrogation techniques but the villain was neither a suspect nor a threat at the moment. The hero sighed softly.

Work occupied their own mind to a nearly worrying degree. Money was a big issue, big enough to give them troubles with falling asleep at night. They guessed that was their own little package to carry around.

But they didn't think it was comparable to the villain's. What they had read in the reports about their childhood...eventually, the hero had stopped reading because it was too painful to even grasp.

"I, uh...got you some stuff. Some medicine, some cookies. Nothing big, really."

The villain's eyes widened.

"Did you pay with the cash I put on the table for you?"

"No, I used my credit card," the hero said. "Wait, just let me..."

They stood up, grabbed the grocery bag and sat down on the carpet of the living room, right in front of the villain. They unpacked every single item carefully and explained how heroically they had fought for the last box of chocolates (which wasn't nearly as dramatic as they framed it to be) or how they nearly died of a heart attack when their card got declined the first time (they merely sweated a little bit more).

"You bought all of this for me?" The villain stared at the chocolates, the painkillers. It seemed like their fingers were shaking a little.

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you shared."

And then, finally, the villain smiled gently.

"You're so stupid." Before the hero knew it, their enemy's fingers pushed hair out of the hero's vision. "You should have used the cash, love."

The hero stared up at them, one of their arms still in the sling, the other still hovering there, their fingers brushing the hero's jawline.

"I wanted to buy this for you. With my own money," the hero said. No. They admitted it. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to make you a little happier."

"I'm not unhappy here with you," the villain said. "You don't make me unhappy. This dream was just a lot and my shoulder really fucking hurts. That's all."

They pulled away and suddenly, the hero felt a little colder. Once again, they feared this wasn't all there was to it.

But it also wasn't their place to poke around.

"Tell me if there is anything I can do for you, though. Okay?"

"I will," the villain said. The hero stood up, not entirely sure if they were actually helpful. They were good at tending wounds but the villain had problems with asking for help. They were good at cooking but the villain didn't seem to have any appetite. They took in a deep breath and before they could reach for the groceries, the villain grabbed their hand. "Okay, I...I kissed you in my dream."

The hero's eyebrows jumped up. "Oh?"

"And it's scaring me. I can't afford those feelings. I can't...I shouldn't want you."

"Shouldn't?"

"I shouldn't." The villain let go and stood up. They cleared their throat. "Eh...do you need help with the groceries?"

And that was the end of that conversation.

For now.

[sketch-twentytwo]

I'm going to get some flack for this but—despite enjoying Fairly Odd Parents: A New Wish quite a lot, I find Timmy Turner was the more compelling protagonist.

Don't get me wrong, Hazel is a fantastic and lovable addition to the show, but I find a lot of her shenanigans aren't as fun or snappy as Timmy's.

I don't really see the reason why Hazel of all people needs fairies. Her brother is off at college but he visits and still clearly loves and cares about her. Her parents get busy from time to time but they're there when it matters and they also love her very much. Her mother is probably the busiest of the two, but she still makes time for her daughter.

The catalyst of the pilot is Hazel running away to see her brother because she wasn't handling the move right away, but very quickly after all this she is able to make friends and maintain an upbeat attitude.

I don't think Hazel needs to be soul crushingly miserable for the show to work, but maybe a spare line here or there about how Fairly World/Da Rules went through a MASSIVE overhaul after a certain, infamous, pink-hatted god-child shook things up could've been nice (Jorgen mentioning that the world has improved since Timmy was a kid, so the qualifications for misery have been loosened?).

It might be the childhood nostalgia talking, but I liked Timmy as a character. He was a ten year old boy who made wacky and wild decisions, whose character only got ruined from the show running too long. If Timmy had gotten the FOP:NW treatment, I think we could've had so much potential for character growth and continuity. (I've made the executive decision not to count seasons 9 and 10 as canon because everything up to that point felt OG!FOP to me).

I see posts saying that Timmy's problems were external while Hazel's are internal, but despite her supposed internal struggles, Hazel is very emotionally mature. Again, I don't think she needs to be MISERABLE and EXTREMELY insecure, but her life pre-fairies doesn't seem that different than her supposed life without. Even without Cosmo and Wanda, I'm sure she would've been able to befriend her classmates, eventually get through to Dev, and find happiness in her life.

I guess my fondness of Timmy is that his fairies were his family. Cosmo and Wanda were like his adopted parents. Poof/Peri was his brother. He had no one else. And I guess I wish I could've gotten a quality ending for him. I need closure! I wanna know how he's doing in FOP:NW. I want to see that he's happy and thriving (and maybe a reunion between him and his family).

Timmy, for all his childishness, selfishness, and pettiness, was a good kid at heart. He was ten years old for crying out loud! Ten year olds tend to be immature lil' kids. I excuse some of his wilder wishes. All he really wanted was acceptance and love and he cared for his Fairy God Parents so, so much. Cosmo and Wanda have a HALL OF TIMMY in their house, for crying out loud!

Hazel is a good protagonist and I'm glad she's in the show, but Timmy holds a special place in my heart. In my heart of hearts, the HALL OF TIMMY still exists somewhere in C+W's house/appartment and he will forever be their son.

[i-prefer-base-twelve]

Ford x Reader x Sleep

It's not so much that you awaken as you're drop-kicked into consciousness. Heart racing, disoriented--it's still dark--Ford is sitting up beside you, panting, clutching the duvet to his chest.

Shit. Something's wrong. Fire? Intruder? "Ford?" You croak.

Ford looks in your general direction, confused. Then his eyes focus and his shoulders sag. He takes a ragged breath and smooths your hair.

"Nothing," he mumbles, voice shaky. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

You frown up at him. "Bullshit," you say. "What's wrong?"

He looks out the window. Or, he would be looking out the window if the curtains weren't drawn. "Just a bad dream."

You prop yourself up on an elbow. Ford told you he had nightmares sometimes, but he's never startled you awake before. "It must have been pretty intense," you say. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Silence. He stares hard at nothing. "You--" he stops, clears his throat, tries again. "You… he…" Ford closes his eyes. "He… possessed you."

No need to ask who HE is. Your stomach knots up on Ford's behalf. "Hey. Look at my eyes," you say softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek. "It's just me in here. He's gone. Forever."

Ford scowls, shoving your hand aside. "You think I don't know that?"

You flinch back. That stings, even if you know he's only angry at himself. "Hey, asshole, I'm trying to comfort you here. Either let me try or let me sleep."

At that, he grunts and lays back down, facing away from you. You stare at his back, wondering what you should do; you've never seen him like this and you might have just fucked it up. Before you can decide on a course of action, he rolls over to face you and rolls you onto your side and pulls you tight against his chest. You can feel his shaky breathing, his pounding heart.

You try to turn and look at him, but his arm around you is so tight you're pretty much pinned. If he doesn't calm down soon, you're gonna have bruises. And not the fun kind.

He clearly doesn't want to talk about it, so that leaves distraction. Distraction, distraction… ah! You say quietly, "Did I ever tell you about the moment I decided not to be a scientist?"

He shifts, arm loosening fractionally. "I didn't know you'd ever considered it."

You smile. This is totally going to work. "Yeah, I actually entered college as a chemistry major. There I was, all of 18 years and two weeks old, in organic lab, WAY over my head--"

"Organic chemistry as a freshman?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I tested out of a bunch of credits."

"You never told me that." There's a gentle admonishment in his voice. You try to find a tactful way to say I don't talk about my college days because I'm an adult and finally decide on, "It never came up. Anyway, there I was in my first real chemistry lab, surrounded by all this strange equipment, and I was just trying to get the melting point of something." Which you do by waiting for a chunk of it to melt and then reading a thermometer. Science is not always complicated. "I turned the heat on, but I knew this thing had a pretty high melting point, so I started writing up my report while I was waiting, but then I got distracted and forgot I was heating it up… until the machine got so hot the thermometer blew out of its housing and shattered against the ceiling."

Silence. Ford's body, pressed against you, begins to twitch with laughter. "You FORGOT?"

You shrug as best your pinned shoulders will allow. "It scared the bejezus out of the whole class. Thank god it wasn't a mercury thermometer! No one was hurt. But that's when I knew I wasn't cut out for life in a lab. Changed my major to computer science the very next day."

You feel Ford shake his head behind you. "Too bad. You would have made a great chemist."

You laugh at that. "Clearly I would not have! Anyway, no regrets. I made it through the CS program without breaking a single machine. Wait, did I… no. The printer broke itself. I just put it out of its misery. Which was honestly one of the more fun times I had in college..."

"Mmmm," Ford says. Your scheme is working; he's falling asleep. You stop rambling as you feel his arm go slack.

You open your eyes to find yourself in the middle of a chem lab. The air burns your throat and stings your eyes. The tables around you are full of improbable setups, Rube Goldberg glassware hosting all manner of sickly-colored liquids. As you look closer, you notice the liquids are flowing the wrong way through the glassware.

You jump at the sound of glass shattering on the floor behind you. As you turn around, the lights flicker. A voice speaks, seeming to come from all around you and inside your head all at once.

"AND JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

You jerk awake, feeling cold sweat on your face. Ford's arm still drapes across your stomach, his breathing still slow and easy. Good, you didn't wake him up. You try to match his breathing, focus on the physical sensations of his warmth and weight against you, try to calm down. Dreams, man.

The next thing you know, a big hand is smoothing your hair. You force your eyes open to see it's morning. Ford is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you intensely. This isn't bizarre exactly, but it's not his normal pattern. Usually when you wake up, he's either long out of bed and knee-deep in mad science, or snuggled up next to you. You make an inarticulate questioning noise.

"I… made you coffee." He's strangely bashful, gesturing at the mug on your nightstand. Next to the mug is a plate of peanut butter toast and strawberries, aka the most breakfast you ever eat.

Ford brought you breakfast in bed.

Ford has never brought you breakfast in bed before. You didn't know he was even aware of breakfast in bed as a concept.

You sit up, turning to lean against him as you reach for the coffee. "Thanks," you say, not managing to keep the confusion out of your voice. He puts an arm around your waist and scoots closer.

Ford stays quiet, unusually quiet, while you drink your coffee. After nearly half a cup, he finally speaks. "No one's seen me like that before." He looks back to you, eyes locking onto yours. "I hope you don't think less of me."

You set your mug on the table and turn to face him. "Think less of you? No, of course not, why would I? Nightmares are scary."

He scowls, looking away. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

It finally clicks. He's embarrassed about waking up in a panic, and wants to apologize for snapping at you. You sigh, putting a hand on his knee. "Seriously, it's no big deal. You were freaked out, you didn't mean anything by it. Honestly, your reaction was pretty standard. I dated one guy who would actually wake up screaming--"

He looks at you then, pinching your hip playfully. There's the slightest smirk on his face. "I don't need to know about your exes."

You smirk back at him. "Point being, don't worry about it. I barely even remember waking up."

He looks relieved. "Were you able to get back to sleep ok?"

Were you? Now that he mentions it, you vaguely remember having an unsettling dream of your own. What was it…? Maybe you're just remembering feeling unsettled on his behalf. You nod and say, "Out like a light."

"Good." He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. And then, after a pause, he adds, "You know, before you, I would just spend the rest of the night awake. Pacing up and down the halls or writing in my journals. But with you…" he shakes his head, smiling. "I went back to sleep. You're a gift, and I intend to appreciate you better in the future."

You smile at him. "I like the sound of that."

He moves in to kiss you, and you gladly let him.

[girltomato]

sweet girl: the first meeting

max verstappen x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, negative internal dialogue (?)

max's brain short circuits when he meets a beautiful woman

sweet girl masterlist

somewhere in europe, late summer 2021

Max very rarely went to sponsor events, he didn't really need to considering he was practically a walking billboard most days but he supposed free alcohol wasn't all too bad a compromise for having to socialise with strangers. He'd already had all the typical conversations, the how do you dos and nice to meet yous. Surely by now he had played his part, no one would really know if he just snuck out now.

His attempt at a subtle escape however was quickly trampled as he not so subtly collided with someone. Years of reaction training had his arms moving before his brain even registered the situation, grabbing onto a pair of shoulders as he steadied himself and the stranger in front of him.

"I am so sorry," he apologised, pulling his hands away from the shockingly beautiful woman in front of him. Just his luck, of course he embarrassed himself in front of an absolute ten.

A tinkling laugh distracted him from his misery, the woman's eyes lighting up as she giggled at him. Fucking hell, the earth could just swallow him up right now and he'd be grateful.

"Please don't apologise, it was my fault I wasn't watching where I was going." Her giggles quickly settled into flushed cheeks and an easy smile and she held out a hand to greet him, "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you."

Max quickly wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt before grabbing her smaller hand and giving it a polite, firm shake. God, her hands were soft, he didn't know skin could actually feel like silk, warm and buttery in his hand like it could melt if he held it too long.

"Uhh, Verstappen, Max, no wait, Max Verstappen. Nice to meet you too." he replied, his tongue tripping over his words, still gripping her hand. Oh God, he was gonna go home and lock himself away in his house and never go outside ever again, he thought as he forced himself to drop her hand.

An awkward silence fell between the pair as Max internally begged his body to cool his flushed cheeks and to stop fucking smiling to no avail.

“Sorry, I got in your way.” Y/n concluded, moving aside and gesturing towards the room as if giving him a signal to pass. Was he really going to walk away? If he could just calm down and get a grip, he had the chance to talk to the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on, with her pretty eyes and sparkly smile and her fruity perfume, raspberry he guessed.

A voice called her name from across the room, another woman waving her arms frantically, gesturing to join her at an overcrowded table.

“Um, I have to go. Nice to meet you, Verstappen Max.” she joked, a cheeky smile lighting up her face as took a step back, eyes holding onto his for just a second before she turned and glided over to her friend.

Max stood there for another minute, a statue in the midst of a bustling room before he finally broke out of his state of stupefaction and headed for the exit. Yeah, maybe locking himself inside and never speaking to another woman ever again was the right idea.

first written fic on this acc hello!! fighting the anxiety so hard rn and i am winning. max meets sweet girl for the first time and is a bumbling idiot, fork found in the kitchen. the response on the first smau was crazy i appreciate all the support so much, i actually dont have writers block for the first time in like 2 years so thank u very much internet strangers🤍

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated !!

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay so I saw this post about dark percy (really him reaching his Limit and fighting full strength with everything he had) and I was imagining the potential fallout of that. Pretty bad, as you can guess.

The thing is a lot of percys strongest moments happen out of view of the olympians, especially in hoo. The hurricane atop the glacier in alaska, the poison scene in tartarus, bending the depression river and the one in the palace of nyx.

Stuff like the St Helens eruption got him washed up on an inescapable island literally removed from reality until calypso gave him the OK, the achillies curse he got tricked into losing by hera. Smaller moments, the minotaur, fighting ares, the stolen pirate ship, walking on water vs hyperion, freshwater sources, him knowing both Latin and Greek, they're more easily brushed off or at least mostly due to cunning, sword skills and sheer luck and grit.

But basically the olympians don't actually know the full extent of percys strength and divine power. They have hints - percy standing on the throne, winning against ares, his many victories - but what they aren't willing to brush aside in the heat of (an important) battle there have been pretty strong consequences for.

Heck, just look at Frank, he's no prodigy with weapons, he's polite and respectful, but his distant relation to two olympians letting him inherit shapeshifting earned him direct divine meddling and his life force tied to a hunk of half toasted firewood. Man is a honey bear with lactose intolerance and he was punished with a mythical death curse for being too strong.

If Percy's true strength came out, he would risk losing everything. His freedom, most certainly. If he wasn't straight up executed he might wind up in a Greek myth style imprisonment, the way of atlas, prometheus, calypso, or something like the myriad of ways Greek heroes met their end. Good scenario he survives a dozen curses and gets on with life with a dozen new disabilities, best case scenario he's stripped of every inch of divine power and dropped back to the mortal world, not even clear sighted. Total separation from the Greeks and Romans. Oh, annabeth would marry him either way, and his friends would hardly abandon him despite the gods wishes, but they'd hardly be able to see him, and no long range contact without the ability to IM him or vice versa.

All of that to say Percy is hiding his true strength from the gods themselves - maybe not consciously, and it's not even power he particularly wants - but if they ever find out?

It's game over.

But why is he so strong? I don't know. What I do know is that the half bloods of the books are so much stronger than the ones of myth. Used to be that divine blood would get you divine favour and a great fate whether you liked it or not. Maybe some cunning and bow skills. A spot of spell casting if you were really lucky. Achillies got his curse after he was born, Perseus had a dozen magic artifacts, orpheus had something going on but hercules is to my knowledge an outlier. Now? Everyone in camp has some special power. Flight, fire, necromancy, hypnotism, dream walking etc. However it's happening, half bloods are slowly but surely getting a lot, lot stronger every century that passes. Meta? I mean I guess. But.

What no one has done before is something that their godly parent couldn't.

Except.

Except Percy.

Except Percy, in tartarus, at his mental, emotional and physical limit, controlling poison with his mind, overpowering the goddess of poison in her home, making misery choke on misery. Feeling something in his chest crack. Doing something poseidon could not, and doing it better than the person who could.

Down there, hidden away from the gods, he evolved. For that brief moment, he did something, was something new.

And that was how the gods overthrew the titans.

And that's why they must never find out.

[rosescarlette]

- Monthly subscription.. -

"Darling.. why is the back of your pants red?"

Zhongli had asked. You got your period... And that's when you realised and we're embarrassed. You tried to cover it up by saying something silly but your husband's senses are quite sharp and he immediately knew you were bleeding by the smell.

"Is that blood?! I- we need to take you to Doctor Baizhu! Immediately!"

"Hey hey it's fine! It's just something I go through every month.."

"EVERY MONTH?!"

You weren't quite surprised by his behaviour. After you knew he was an archon, you came to know that he doesn't understand humans much even after he tried to mingle with his people. He immediately panicked.. he tried to get you to the pharmacy.. but you refused. He didn't understand how bleeding every month is normal. He was seriously very worried and thought it wasn't normal and immediately rushed you to the pharmacy.. (Ofc you changed yourself)

"Mr. Zhongli I'd say she's perfectly fine. Why did you bring her to the pharmacy?"

"How is bleeding every month fine?? It's serious! It's like some chronic disease!"

Baizhu immediately laughed and was very entertained by how zhongli was acting. Zhongli was quite confused on the other hand. Did he ask anything embarrassing? He was pretty sure he had asked reasonable questions.

"Ah.. let me guess. Mr. Zhongli doesn't know about this?"

Baizhu asked you with a smile. He knew immediately when Zhongli had kept asking ridiculous questions, he didn't know much about the human body. You immediately sighed and told Dr. Baizhu that he indeed didn't know. That's when Dr. Baizhu had told Zhongli about how women's periods work. And both of you went back home. When you went back home. Zhongli still had a face where he was very shocked. He immediately started asking questions.

"So.. you suffer for EVERY MONTH?!"

"Yeah that's quite the short way to put the misery."

"PARDON?!"

"Yes? What's so shocking?"

"Darling you better tell me more about this.. I NEED to know more so I can take care of you PROPERLY."

"Eh..? Zhongli it's fine you don't have to.."

"No I HAVE to."

"Alright fine. I can't keep putting up with your stubborn as- *ahem* anyways."

Trust me he did give you quite a death glare to stop you from swearing. After you had told him everything.. he was just flabbergasted. He wanted to know more now. And the part where you mentioned that you get period cramps where it hurts like HELL. He wanted to know what would subside the pain and how to ease your uneasiness.

When you were removing your bedsheets to clean them. He immediately stopped you.

"Zhongli.. what are you doing now?"

"I want to take care of you. Please... I can't see you in pain."

"Uh I am fine now.. Can I do some work?"

He immediately said "No."

"Hey that's not fair! I want to do some work too!"

"Darling just rest-"

And when you keep protesting he doesn't mind at all by keeping the bedsheets aside and he immediately picks you up in a bridal style. You immediately flushed.

"H-HEY! PUT ME DOWN!!"

"No."

He kept you in his bedroom where you can sleep for the time being. You can't do anything.. he's stubborn and will just use his strength to stop you from doing anything.

You sighed and decided to take a rest in his bedroom after all it was cozy and neat and of course expensive.

In the time you slept... Zhongli had changed the bedsheets of your bedroom, did the laundry, made your bedroom very cozy. He was trying his level best of the knowledge he had to make sure you don't feel any pain or discomfort. He even organised your room so that things would be a little easier for you. When you woke up he was making some tea which soothes the pain of period cramps. Honestly you didn't know how to react.. he had quite a serious face while he was doing all these things. You decided to go to your bedroom.

When you got to your bedroom you were surprised that everything was neat and organised. EVERYTHING. The room itself was tidy. You immediately went to ask him what he was doing and he replied with a smile and gave you a cup of tea.

"Drink it.. it soothes the pain of period cramps my dear."

"Thanks.. and why did you clean my room? You know you didn't have to CLEAN everything in the room.."

"If it was for you. I'd do it. I'd do anything for you just to be happy."

"Oh silly zhongli."

He absolutely didn't mind. He would love to do anything for you. ANYTHING. And.. of your period pains were worse at night.. be sure to tell him! He would immediately go get a heating pad and something to eat, to replenish your lost energy of course. And if you want him to hug you while you are asleep just speak so and it's done. He would absolutely love to have you in his arms. He's quite a big spoon so expect your position to be as a teddy bear compared to him.

He also noticed your pattern of mood swings. And he knows quickly to deal with them. You don't know how this guy is managing you at this point. Because you wouldn't even handle yourself.

"Dear I am going to get some stuff do you want anything?"

"Just ice cream and some chocolates please!"

"Of course."

He'd get everything more than it was needed because he knows how unpredictable you get with food. And he makes special dishes that help you get energy and your strength back.

---------------------------------------------------

Am sorry for not posting in a while :'( my mental health and my life at my house wasn't quite good. I am very Grateful for all of you trying to be patient with me! :D

[chosos-mascara]

a piece of advice

𝙮𝙪𝙪𝙩𝙖 𝙤𝙠𝙠𝙤𝙩𝙨𝙪 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after you offer condom advice to yuta, you put forward a second suggestion.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - condom + lube use, fem reader, soft sex, yuta has a big p

2.6k words

Yuuta wasn't a virgin. In the midst of his twenties, he'd had enough encounters and experiences, times in which protection had been of course used, though provided for him. There was one thing on his list of sexual endeavors that he hadn't done, and that had been purchasing his own condoms. 

With that in mind, he'd been standing with basket in hand, pacing the medicine isle within his local supermarket - an embarrassing buy he'd felt inclined to make. Toge had been encouraging him into the dating scene after strings of one night stands and situation-ships, a promise of setting the raven haired male up with his cute friend. There was only one hurdle until his scheduled date, and that had been within one of many boxes before him. He needed to prepare. 

One step over the other, an antsy stumble as an uncomfortable sheen of sweat coated his body. Yuuta sighed when looking up to the shelves, eyeing options and colourful packages decorated in awkward phrases; for her, ribbed for pleasure... the list continues. Each helpless reach toward a decision had been disrupted almost as soon as his clammy hand would lift, a person edging too close to the isle he'd been panicking within A swift withdraw and turn to opposing direction would be the result of his anxiety, and Yuuta would be left back at square one. 

Through this routine, Yuuta's stresses focused elsewhere, he hadn't noticed a recurring face passing every few minutes, the same pair of eyes watching as his brow furrowed over, as his fingers grazed shiny cardboard and gaze locked onto one package. 

At first, you'd watched the stranger through morbid curiosity; an attractive guy around your age looking at condoms? It had been that of human nature that had driven you to watch him make a decision, to fantasise over his fingers as he'd roll it over himself, positioning his ache to soothe yours. 

Would he buy ribbed, or focus on her pleasure? Or, with his anxious nature, you'd guess there'd be a chance he'd go for extra safe. When watching him finally reach out, you'd clenched your thighs in anticipation, a giddiness within you to witness his choice first hand, anticipation pooling with arousal within the pit of your stomach as his fingers had almost wrapped around a box - though he'd ripped them away much faster when another stranger had turned the corner. His black head of hair had blurred as he span into the other direction, raised arm flying to the back of his neck as his fingers scratched at the skin nervously. 

It had been the fourth failure that had finally driven you to take a step forward - to put him out of his misery and allow the situation to rest. At first, he'd watched your movements from the corner of his eye, though as you'd grown closer to his personal space than previous strangers had, he'd cautiously met your eye. The nervous look painted on his face had accompanied a thick swallow and sheepish smile as he stepped backward, hoping you'd simply pass by. 

"Are they for your girlfriend?" The question had been spoken with confidence as you'd turned to him, an arm crossing the other as he tensed up, forced smile dropping to a frown.  "W-what?" He'd stuttered in shock as he followed your raised finger with hesitancy. You had in fact pointing toward the rows of condom boxes shelved before him. "Well, there's a lot of choices, aren't there?" You'd spoken with ease, a light hearted tone to soothe his worries. "Have you used one before?"  The male's face relaxed with your friendly demeanour, though it had felt as if the ground was swallowing him whole. 

"Uh," He cleared his throat, hand returning to the back of his neck once again, meeting the spot you'd watched him rub raw over the course of his endeavour. "I've used them before - just never bought them." The statement had ended in a raise of your brow, and a churn in the pit of his stomach.  "Hm, can I offer advice?" You gestured toward the more elaborate forms of protection; ribbed, thin, dotted and heated. "You don't need things like this. If you care about her pleasure, just learn where the clitoris is." Your finger moved, pointing at flavoured condoms with a frown. "Personally, I don't get the appeal, unless you're planning on only having oral." 

Yuuta swallowed back a thick lump within his throat at that statement. 

Finally, you placed a palm over box, fingers wrapping around edges and lifting package out, facing it toward the attractive stranger. His dark blue eyes drifted over the writing, body slouched.  "These are fine for your first buy. They're standard, lubricated, and safe." You pushed the pack toward him, and finally, he held it between his fingers. He glossed over the back before clearing his throat and glancing back to the array of condoms before him, stray orbs finally slowing over bigger sizes, pointing toward a black box with gold writing, large written clearly on the front. 

"I think these might be better - they're normal too, right?" A pink tint had tickled his skin as he spoke, the smile over your face causing his breathing to pick up a pace, heart racing. You hadn't meant to let the giggle pass your lips, but it had, and Yuuta had appeared all the more uncomfortable.  "Size doesn't matter, you know? The normal ones will do fine." You'd tried to reassure him, though he'd opened his mouth, a quiet stuttering before he'd fought back.  "I don't think they'll fit." 

"Uh," Now, it had been your turn to shift uncomfortably, fingers finding the hem of jumper before contemplating your next question, and the appropriateness of asking a complete stranger for their dick size in the middle of your local supermarket. You'd wondered how to approach the inquiry, instead opting to take the box back from his grasp, fingers ghosting his. "It says on the back that they're 7 inches long. You should be okay."

Yuuta stirred, a dry cough pushed through throat as heat rose his body. What had already been an extremely embarrassing interaction had somehow grown worse as his brain had buffered, lips unmoving. When he'd watched the pretty girl pass his isle, he'd felt slightly uneasy; but when she had in fact stopped to approach him with advice he'd felt a thousand times more humiliated. And now, having you insist on a condomsize he'd known wouldn't fit both girth and size he'd endowed had left him with two options: the first had been to blindly accept the recommendation and buy the incorrect size, or the second; to tell you he'd been above average. 

For whatever reason, he'd decided on the second. 

"Well-" He'd stammered, before specifying. "I'm eight and a half." Yuuta hadn't been aware that his protest had caused your thighs to clench, tight muscles causing friction as a startled hum left your lips. You hadn't been entirely sure if the outward sound had been that of pleasure or surprise. 

"Oh." A short response to voice your surprise and detract from the small sound you'd made a few seconds before had been the only thing you could muster, mostly relishing in awkwardness.  

In reality, the honesty he'd spoken had only led you to feel more attracted to him. His relaxed outfit and pretty hair had been the first thing to catch your eye, and then a cute face - but now, you'd felt your little crush morph into desire, a need to have him between your legs to help fill an ache he hadn't known existed.

The black box had been dropped into his basket, a readjustment of the other items to retain some modesty as he'd finished his shopping. You'd smiled as he thanked you for the help, and watched him walk to the other end of the store while you'd taken your, in comparison, sparse basket to the tills, paying up and leaving.

When outside, bag over arm, you'd contemplated two options. You had felt desperation to speak with him once more and to get his number in your phone, or maybe it had been to have his face between your thighs. In thought, you slumped back to the store's outer wall, a sigh leaving chest. Were you really going to embarrass yourself like this? To ask a man you were almost sure had been in some sort of relationship considering his purchase history - would you milk the slim chance of him being single?

Minutes had passed, and with time, rational thought had taken hold of you, gripping each shoulder to scream into your face. What were you doing out here? 

Pushing from the brick, shaking head, you took a step forward to make your way back home - most likely involving an evening of yourself and vibrator. Only, two steps forward with your head down had you close to lunging into another person - him. 

"Are you following me?" He had asked with small smile, another scratch to the back of his neck. Your expression of shock had seemingly concerned the raven haired male, his forced laughter dying out as he placed his hands into his pockets, a white plastic bag hanging from wrist. 

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The contents of his bag had been all you'd needed to spark the question, and he'd been goggling awkwardly once more.  "No - why?" The awkward laughter had returned at the end of his sentence, eyes trailing from yours to instead ghost over the pavement at your feet. 

"I-" You cleared your throat. "You were buying condoms, so I thought..." Trailing off, you'd mentally cursed yourself for the situation at hand.  "A friend of mine wanted to set me up with someone he knew." The stranger's explanation had been realistically unneeded, though you'd appreciated his specification - enough to prompt further questioning.  "So - do you have anyone to use those condoms with?" 

His gaze left the pavement and met yours before he'd replied.  "No." 

"Want me to help you with that?"

Yuuta followed you into your bedroom, white shopping bag still over hand as you turned to face him. The accessory was cute, but had served as a reminder of both his awkwardness and the fact you'd let a stranger into your home with only the promise of sex. 

You'd stepped forward, closing the gap between each of you with your palms first, laying them flat over his cheeks. In this light, you could see the true grey of his eyes, soft and harsh tones making up his vision. He looked at you through both nervousness and curiosity before your slow movement forward had connected your lips in his, a drawn out kiss to test the waters. 

His hands had immediately came to press over the small of your back, bringing you closer while displaying the largeness of his palms. His grasp had taken more space than than other men's had, while somehow much gentler, calmer. He'd been a good kisser too, locking of lips molding perfectly to your own, and when introducing a swipe of tongue, he'd responded with a slide over yours. He felt good, a divine play between each of you as he moved with you, a gentle push toward the bed before you'd laid on your back, his grasp over your hips and the bag landing beside. 

Yuuta pulled back first, hands sliding upward to lift your shirt and graze smooth skin beneath, scaling the length of stomach before pulling cotton over your head. You giggled, a warmth on your face as he dug through the bag beside you, retrieving the box needed before tossing the white plastic to one side. The oversized hoodie he'd been dressed within had soon been thrown to the floor beside your garment, and through languid movements and kisses, the remainder of garments had been discarded. 

"Do you have lube?" Yuuta's voice was low, mouth against neck as he'd asked. At first, your response had simply been a hum in appreciation to the vibrations against your skin, teeth over lip to suppress a louder sound, though when he'd drawn back entirely you'd been left to process the question. A quick glance toward your bedside table had been enough, Yuuta's vascular forearm reaching over to pull the top drawer, a small bottle with a pump pulled from the mess. 

The black box had been opened, a condom retrieved by long fingers, the foil resting between teeth as he tore it open. You'd giggled and he'd looked toward you in sheepishness, the small smile you'd seen throughout your limited time with him returning.  "Do you do that for all the girls?" Your question had caused his eyes to roll, his smile and laughter answer enough before an apology. But, you'd reassured him.  "Don't apologize, it was hot."

He pulled rubber downward, shaft covered in the thin layer before he'd pumped a few globs of the thick substance over two fingers, a draw over slit to make your back arch. Yuuta watched your expression soften when he'd inserted them, slow pumps and heavy breaths. When he'd added a third, you'd shifted and he'd paused, but your hand moving to envelop his wrist and pull it toward you had caused him to continue, the care in his actions making for an easier experience. 

When he'd finally pushed the head of himself inside your walls, he'd groaned, a relief to ache he'd felt within himself when using only his fingers. He pushed in further, your tightness hugging him while you'd moaned beneath, arms lowering to allow himself closer to you, chest to chest.  "This okay?" He'd whispered gently and you'd nodded, eyes half lidded watching as he moved again, hips plush to your spread thighs before he'd draw himself back. Lips agape, moans passed through involuntarily, the stretch of his cock buried deep within you and his skin brushing yours to share warmth intoxicating. Your legs had moved from the loose spread position to instead wrap themselves around his torso. 

Yuuta groaned softly, finally pressing his mouth to yours after watching your expression contort beneath him with each thrust. A whimper against his skin, he'd rocked himself closer to release, your walls fluttering over the length he'd endowed to milk his length into the latex cover. Part of you had wished you'd taken him bare, envisioning his release as you'd taken his load, though instead he'd groaned and stuttered to climax within bounds of protection. 

Yuta's forehead had pressed against your own, fingers clutching the pillow behind your head in one hand and your thigh in another, squeezing over both cotton cover and the thick of skin as he allowed himself to experience his euphoria. He'd pushed himself furthest into you while coming undone, your walls squeezing him as he fizzled back into the bedroom around him. 

When he'd finished, the latex taken to the small trash can within your bathroom. When you'd returned from a quick shower he'd been propped against the headboard of your bed, clothed and phone in hand. 

"You're still here?" You laughed, damp towel hung over the white bedroom door as you'd made your way back into your room. His sight had lifted from his phone as he'd stood, smile over face.  "I was thinking we could go and get dinner?" The request had caught you off guard, heart skipping a beat when your eyes had scanned his. He'd have to let Toge know he wouldn't be meeting his friend, after-all. 

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER FINAL

matt sturniolo x f!reader

some of y'all bout to be real mad at me :3

y/n's pov

I let out a sigh, as my eyes scanned the ceiling, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of misery. The cold bed sheets beneath me were like a prison, binding me to the spot, it was then that I realized I had been lying there for days.

The past few days had been like shit for me, that even the simple act of standing up seemed like a difficult task. I couldn't take Matt out of my head. That it was starting to hurt even worse now. I missed him, I missed us. I missed whatever we had going on, I missed his voice, I missed him holding me close to him. I missed everything about him. It was like a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole that nothing could ever fill.

God I hate it when I can't get him out of my head. It's like he's become some sort of drug I can't get enough of. every time I close my eyes, all I see is his face. It's been days since I last talked to him, but I just couldn't bring myself to answer his texts. I knew if I did, I'd just end up saying something that'll just regret later.

My head pounded in agony as I sat up, the room spinning wildly around me. I felt nauseous and weak like I could barely stand on my own two feet. I slowly crawled my way to the bathroom, every movement making me wince in pain.

 Once I was in there, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at the poor reflection looking back at me. My eyes were dull and lifeless, my normally pale skin now a sickly shade of gray. My hair was a mess, tangled and greasy from not bothering to wash it for days. I looked like death warmed over. It didn't help that my reflection seemed to mock me. I didn't recognize the person looking back at me anymore. I felt like I was some sort of shadow of my former self,

I stared back at myself. It's not like I was some sort of prize or anything special. He'll get over it, eventually. But the words seemed hollow even to my own ears.

I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath trying to calm down, but it seemed to only make things worse. 

I turned away from the mirror, unable to look at myself any longer, climbing back into bed, pulling the covers up over my head, and trying to shut out the world. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was slowly drifting away from everything that had once been familiar and comforting.

It wasn't even that big of a deal, why was I feeling like this? I'll get over it soon, right? It wasn't like it was the end of the world or something. But still, the pain didn't seem to lessen, it felt like someone had carved out my heart and stomped all over it. the truth was, I was scared. Scared that this was how it was going to be from now on.

I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to feel something else. But all I felt was this aching emptiness, that made me feel like I was floating in the void.

 His face kept creeping into my thoughts, his voice echoing in my head. It was like I couldn't escape him, even when I was in the middle of enjoying something else.

My brain refused to process anything else. I couldn't focus on anything else. It was like my entire world had been reduced to just one person, and now that he was gone, there was nothing left. I felt so empty. Like a shell of the person I used to be.

I needed to get out of the house. I needed some fresh air, some time away from everything that reminded me of him. I got up, threw on some clothes, and grabbed my keys. I didn't even bother to brush my teeth or wash my face. I just didn't care anymore.

matt's pov

I sat on my bed, my head pounding because of how much I was overthinking. I shouldn't have rushed things. I knew it the moment I had kissed her. I had been so sure that she felt the same way I did, but I guess I was wrong. How could I have been so stupid? Why did I have to ruin everything by acting on my feelings?

I threw myself back on my bed, the pain in my chest growing more intense with each passing second. What was wrong with me? Why did I always have to screw things up? It wasn't just this, it was everything. I couldn't seem to get anything right. And now I'd probably lost the only person who really understood me. It was like a physical weight pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

The hours dragged on as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again in my head. I needed to talk to her, or to hear her voice at least, and to somehow make things better. But how could I do that without making it worse? I didn't want to lose her, but I knew that I had to call her eventually.

With a heavy heart, I reached for my phone, staring at the screen for a moment before dialing her number. Again. And again. And again. But each time, the phone rang and rang without anyone picking up.

 I was beginning to feel like a pathetic loser, calling her over and over when she clearly didn't want to talk to me. I should just accept that I had fucked things up and leave her alone. But I couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, if I called one more time...

My finger hovered above the green "call" button, hesitating for a moment before I finally pressed it, Maybe she'd pick up, and we could talk about what had happened. Maybe we could find a way to make things right again. Or maybe, she'd just hang up on me, and I'd be left here, feeling even more shitty than before.

"hey bitch, I'm probably sleeping or re-watching my little pony or maybe I just don't wanna answer you, just leave a voice message even though I'm not gonna listen to- beep"

Oh. Well, I guess I'd better leave it at that then. I hung up the phone, feeling more miserable than ever. I had hoped that maybe she'd want to talk to me, but I guess not. I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. Maybe she just needed some time to process things.

But again, I needed to talk to her, I just couldn't help it. I was sure I'd go insane if I didn't, So, I did the only thing I could think of, I quickly got up, grabbed my jacket and keys, and headed out the door. 

If I wasn't able to talk to her on the phone, then maybe I could just go see her in person. Maybe she'd be more willing to talk to me if I was standing right in front of her.

I drove to her house, my heart pounding in my chest as I passed through familiar streets and landmarks. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. What if she doesn't want to talk? What if her parents answered the door? What if she didn't want to see me at all? The uncertainty was killing me. My brain was a mess, trying to think of every possible outcome, every possible scenario.

I decided to stop at a flower shop along the way and buy her a bouquet, just in case. I wanted to look like I was just bringing her flowers as a friend, not like I was some desperate ex-boyfriend. I didn't want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

As I pulled up to her house, my heart was racing, my palms sweaty. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and then stepped out of the car, making my way up to the front door. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should just turn around and leave. But it was too late for second-guessing now. With a deep breath, I lifted my hand to knock on the door. 

No answer. I knocked again, a little louder this time. Maybe she was in the backyard or something. Maybe she was just taking a moment to herself. I tried the door, but it was locked. I knocked again, this time a little more frantically.

Nothing. There was still no response. I knocked one more time, just to be sure, but the silence that followed only made my heart sink further. With a heavy sigh, I leaned against the door, feeling like an idiot for even coming here. What had I been thinking? That she'd just open the door and invite me in like everything was okay?

I looked down at the bouquet of pink tulips in my hand, feeling ridiculous for even bringing them. Maybe I should just leave them here on the porch and leave, but something held me back. I couldn't just walk away without at least trying to talk to her. With a deep breath, I took out my phone and dialed her number, hoping she would pick up this time. After what felt like an eternity, it rang...and rang...and rang. No answer.

"Excuse me ?" 

I looked up from my phone, startled by the voice. Standing in the driveway was an old woman, probably in her late seventies or early eighties. She was wearing a floral housecoat and a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Um, hi," I said, a little sheepishly. "I was looking for...um, is y/n here?"

The old woman looked at me with confusion, before widening her eyes in realization" You mean the young lady who lived here? Oh dear, she would usually greet me every day but I haven't seen or heard of her in days, I'm assuming she moved out"

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. No, that couldn't be it.  

"You must be her...friend?" Her voice trailed off, her expression gentle and sympathetic.

"Um, yeah," I replied, my throat feeling tight. "I mean, I was"

The old woman must have sensed my discomfort because she put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't you worry, dear. Sometimes people need time to themselves, and they find it in the most unexpected places. You never know, she might just be around the corner, waiting for you to find her."

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they only seemed to make things worse. I wanted to believe her, I really did. But the feeling in my gut told me something different. It told me that I might have lost her, and that this time, it might be for good.

With a heavy sigh, I thanked the old woman and made my way back to my car. As I drove away, my eyes stung with tears.

I tried to distract myself with music, and the scenery around me, but it was no use. The image of her face, the way she looked at me when we were together, it was burned into my memory.

Maybe this is a sign, that I need to move on. To accept that whatever we had going on was over and focus on my own life. But how could I possibly do that when all I could think about is the way she used to laugh at my jokes, the way she would pout and frown her eyebrows playfully every time I teased her. Those memories are engraved into my brain, and I don't think they'll ever fade.

 I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to forget about her. But what choice did I have? Could I keep living this way, constantly thinking about what could have been, and what might never be again? I couldn't. I had to find a way to move on.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, debating whether to delete her name or keep her in my life like a constant reminder of what I'd lost. In the end, I decided that if I wanted to truly move on, I needed to let her go. So I deleted her number, her email address, and even blocked her social media accounts.

I had to accept the fact that it was over and move on. It was the only way I could possibly heal. Even If I cared- no, loved her with all my heart, there was no point in holding on to something that wasn't there anymore. I needed to let go and find peace.

 It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was one I knew I had to choke down.

the end

jkjk 😆

2 years later

y/n's pov

"Hey! Stop" I yelled as I watched my dog, pepper, run with my phone between her teeth. She darted around a corner, out of my sight. I sighed, running after her, just as she disappeared around another corner. 

"Pepper, come back!" I called, beginning to lose patience. I turned the corner and saw her sitting in front of our front door, her tail wagging excitedly, I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to her, bending down to pick her up. "That's a good girl," I cooed, kissing her head. As I stood back up, I glanced down just to find my phone shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

 "Oh no," I muttered, "I guess that's the end of that." I sighed, knowing I'd have to save up for a new phone now. I picked up the pieces of my phone and stuffed them in my pocket, then reached for the doorknob, and entered my house.

I needed to tell my mom, or else she'd get worried. I knew she had an old phone lying around somewhere. I went to her room and started searching through her drawers, looking for the phone.

 After a few minutes of digging, I finally found it, buried under a pile of old magazines and makeup. I smiled to myself, feeling relieved that I had found it. I quickly grabbed the phone and went back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

As I sat down on my bed, I inspected the phone more closely and realized that It was my old phone, the one I had before I got my current one. I powered it on, relieved to see that it was still working. 

Luckily I didn't have a password set up on my old phone, so I was able to use it right away. I immediately went to check my contacts only to find that all contacts I had were just numbers now. 

I didn't recognize any of them. "How did this happen?" I wondered out loud, as I dug through the rest of the phone, looking for any clue as to who these people were or how I had gotten their numbers. After a while, I came across a number that looked exactly like my mom's. "That must be it," I thought to myself, before clicking the message icon and started typing.

THE END ☆

HEY OML U MADE IT TO THE END OF YHE STORY 🤩🤩🤩🤩💯💯💯 but anyways I just wanna thank u all for sticking around (corny ass zay) I'm so so So so grateful for all of the support y'all gave me to continue this shitty ahh series it really makes my day everytime I read u guys's comments I love u all fr muaaah 💕

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie

@secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss @bitterspoons

[meanbossart]

I am replaying Baldur's Gate and its kinda funny the loviatar'd blessing scene, yeah I get Shadowheart approving, Shar is kinda crazy and all.

But Astarion???? Wasn't you tortured a lot? What in the Paulo Freire, the dream of the opressed is to become the opressor was that?

LOL, I mean it seems pretty clear to me (and kind of imperative to his character) That Astarion enjoys seeing other people in pain and misery, or be set up for it.

He likes when you lie to Arabella's parents that she's alive, not because you're sparing them a harsh truth, but because it will make the news hit harder later. He likes when you tell the Absolute siblings to go and fight the Owlbear to "avenge" their brother because that's a clear death trap. He DOESN'T like if you tell Mayrina that her brothers are dead, because you're doing it to prove to her that the hag is evil rather than to rub the tragedy in her face (so ultimately with good intentions). He likes that you intimate people into doing your will and getting your or his way. His desire to cause harm seems to never have much rhyme or reason, rather just something that he gets entertainment out of.

I'm pretty sure that, regardless of approval, at that point in the story Astarion does Not like you or trust you and he's just delighted to see you do something that is harmful to yourself. I'm sure this is in part due to his past (just deriving pleasure from seeing Others suffer as he did. I'm guessing he got a similar kick whenever the other spawn were punished for something) but I think that's also partially just the person he is.

He's an extremely self-centered guy but as I like to say, he's a nice to the date, mean to the waiter type of person too. I don't think that when he starts to care for your needs that that's him being reformed - he's just extending an exception towards you now because you've become important to him. Not to say his perception of others and ability to feel empathy doesn't shift AT ALL, just not that drastically.

[bethanydelleman]

Hello!

I rewatched Pride and Prejudice and it's surprising how my thoughts on it changed over the years 😃

When I was a teenager, Elizabeth Bennet was the plucky heroine that I wanted to be (lol) , now I'm older with a mortgage and responsibilities/bills, I'm like what was her plan in life?

Because she wasn't really educated per se (im thinking about how she answered lady Catherine about what she has to recommend her re:drawing, playing the piano etc) so I guess a 'career'(no matter how little it would be available at that time) was out of the question, but accepting marraige to the (admittedly obsequious) Mr Collins was also out of the question as well as Mr Darcys first proposal (which I get why sge turned it down!) ...I guess I'm asking what Elizabeth's plan for her future.

I've heard this from a lot of people upon re-read, "Why isn't Elizabeth more worried about her future?" I think there are a few things to note.

Early 1800s or not, Elizabeth is 20 years old when the novel begins (the average age of first marriage for women was 23). 27 year old Charlotte is in more of a future panic, but Elizabeth is still young. She has done practical thing like learn to play piano, but like most young people, she's probably just hoping for the best. And it's not like there is much she can actually do, Elizabeth is putting herself out there, she's dancing, she's playing piano, but otherwise she can just hurry up and wait. Her mother's marriage schemes are seen as vulgar and mostly backfire, and we would hardly want Elizabeth to act like Caroline. We read across Austen's novel's that women are largely stationary and it is the men who move in and out of their lives.

Also, I think a big part of Austen's point is that women are in a position where they feel the need to accept any and every proposal, because as Mr. Collins says, they may never receive another, but that this leads to misery (just look at the older couples and how many of them are unhappy!). While somewhat foolish from a financial perspective, Elizabeth is thinking about her long term happiness. She has watched her father turn bitter in an unequal relationship, she does not want that for herself. Elizabeth is choosing possible spinsterhood over being married to a person she knows she could not respect. Marrying for love, or at least on a basis of respect, is a big theme in Austen's novels. Let me add this quote from Mansfield Park to illustrate this point:

“I should have thought,” said Fanny, after a pause of recollection and exertion, “that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man’s not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable. Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself.... And, and—we think very differently of the nature of women, if they can imagine a woman so very soon capable of returning an affection as this seems to imply.”

So yes, Elizabeth Bennet isn't being financially prudent but she is being sensible in preserving her happiness. And for realism, we know Austen made this decision herself! She turned down an eligible offer.

Next, Mrs. Bennet is somewhat exaggerating: they are very unlikely to starve or be destitute. While it is never explicitly stated, Mr. Gardiner seems to be doing very well, and would probably very happily take at least Jane and Elizabeth if Mr. Bennet died. Mr. Philips is also doing well for a country attorney, he could take in his sister-in-law and nieces. It is going to suck, the Bennets should have planned better, but it's not the end of the world. We also do not know Mr. Bennet's age, but he may well only be in his late forties. He's no Mr. Woodhouse who may die tomorrow in a stiff breeze.

So what is Elizabeth's plan? She doesn't have one, she's 20. She's hoping life will throw her a man with a decent income that she doesn't hate. It works out in the end, but I don't think she would live to regret either turned down proposal if she had never met Darcy again.

[kiame-sama]

Warnings; bg3, full party (because I want them all there to talk), Druid Tav*, Slight druid path spoilers I guess?, Owlbear, Protector type Tav, yandere companions (ALL of them), basic identity spoilers for first act followers, slight early story spoilers, they/them reader, yandere Raphael makes an appearance too.

* Tav is the name that always appears in the character generator first, so technically Tav is the unofficial term for the player character- or Reader in this scenario.

~~~~~~~~

The large owlbear lumbered slowly amongst the fallen undead, using the sharp beak to pick around the bodies for anything useful. Of course, not everything picked up by the defacto leader of the group was typically deemed useful. Such was the way of the unusual soul the group found themselves following the every whim of.

Countless battles had been won with their leadership and each companion had true respect for their leader, even if respect for the other companions was variable. To take them from desperate and hopeless about their plight to truly believing they could succeed their impossible mission. Each odd soul brought in to the fold by the odd druid may not believe, but they believed in how much their leader believed. For them, this was enough.

This meant that when their trusted leader wandered around as a creature that could feasibly carry three of them, they just followed along and grabbed what they wanted if their leader didn't pick it up first. They trusted their leader to distribute loot and treasure adequately based off of who could best use what was collected. Still, that didn't make the experience any less surreal, even for those who were familiar with druids that favored their bestial forms.

"Astarion, do you ever feel like we, as a group, just adapt to everything around us a little too well?"

Gale, the wizard of the group walked next to the rogue vampire spawn, his arms crossed in a contemplative way. Never before would he have imagined himself having light banter with such a being without bloodshed, but here he was regardless.

"Do tell me you are joking, right?"

"No, should I be?"

"God's, Gale, we're all stuck here as a group with only one thing in common- the fact that we're facing impossible odds to simply survive- and we can barely keep ourselves from killing each other. On top of that, just what do you think we're doing right now? Hm?"

"... Collecting the spoils of our battle?"

There was a distinct moment of silence as the beautiful vampire spawn stared at the wizard with a look of disbelief and disgust. The apparent pause catching the attention of the rest of the party- minus the owlbear lumbering ahead of the group- as they all decided to listen in. It was good fun to hear the others squabble and it gave a sense of comradery despite the situation they were in, misery loving company in most ways, though things weren't seeming too miserable now.

"We are in a temple that is inside of a crypt- some depth underground- picking amongst the remains of reanimated corpses that have all been stomped to death by our Owlbear leader. Not to mention this leader who just so happens to be the most balanced person among us and somehow isn't corrupt as all hells while doing it."

Some of the others nodded along in their own ways, knowing Astarion's assessment wasn't too far off from the crux of the situation they found themselves in. A few cast glances at the afore mentioned owlbear leader who seemed rather content rooting through what little remained from their earlier rampage.

"And they're hot as the hells while doing it."

Karlach, the literal flaming tiefling barbarian, commented, putting herself in the conversation with a wide grin.

"You're one to talk, Karlach," Wyll playfully jabbed back, "You've literally got fire coming out of you!"

"You know I'm right though!"

"Well, I didn't say you were wrong."

Before the two could continue, Astarion cut them off, bringing the now group conversation back to Gale.

"Anyways, my point still stands. We are not the ones who make this all work. They make it work for us. We are stuck together- like it or not- and they call the shots. We can get used to anything because they can get used to anything. Don't pat yourself on the back too hard now, it might get you excited."

Gale slightly winced at that jab, given the fact that he was the most obvious about being smitten with the group leader, and yet his beloved was completely unaware of how hard he had fallen. How hard they all had fallen.

"Are you all fools," Shadowheart hissed in a low voice, "you know they can hear us, right?"

It was Lae'zel's turn to bark out a laugh, her lips curled in a sly grin as she regarded the Sharian cleric. It gave the Githyanki soldier a sense of satisfaction to know something about their leader the cleric didn't.

"They can't understand us in that owlbear form. Why else would these fools talk so plainly?"

Unknown to them, their leader could understand them, but simply didn't want to cause in-fighting or favoritism to arise. So they simply carried on as if unaware of the conversation, just trying to focus on finding what was salvageable.

Unknown to them all, a demon watched from the rafters. His arms were crossed and a grin played across his lips. He had to admit, that druid was certainly a fetching prize as they clearly enamored not only their mismatched companions but him as well. Time would leave him the last among them by the druid's side, he would ensure it. Besides, he had plenty of time to wait.

[nihilo-sensei]

The Infamous Chuuya-SSKK Car Ride

Two. Fucking. Hours.

Akutagawa and Atsushi have been arguing for two hours almost non-stop and there's still an hour to go in the trip. If you had asked Chuuya before he climbed into this four-wheeled prison what the most annoying thing on Earth was, he would've said without hesitation that it was dealing with Dazai. That was a more innocent time, a time before life had decided to punish him for his every felony, misdemeanor, and wasted gallon of milk. He wasn't sure if these apparently nuclear-powered bickering machines being confined to the backseat was better or worse for him. Probably better; at least one half of the invective wasn't being spewed directly into his left ear.

As much as he wanted to blame a member of the Armed Detective Agency for all of his misery, he was disappointed to say that it had been his subordinate and fellow mafioso who started this. Granted it hadn't taken much to get the weretiger to dive down to Akutagawa's level, but he was just trying to make conversation, asking if Chuuya listened to much music. Honestly, the gravity manipulator would've been delighted to spend a three-hour car ride talking about music, even with an ADA member. It was kind of nice that the kid had reached for some common ground between them. Akutagawa really hadn't needed to cut Chuuya off before he had a chance to answer by saying, "No one cares, weretiger." That one admittedly rude remark had sealed Chuuya's fate for the rest of the ride out to the countryside. Thanks, Aku.

"You better not get in my way when we get there, weretiger. The Port Mafia doesn't need Least Beneath the Moonlight."

"I guess I'll leave the job to Brash-ōmon, then. Get over yourself."

How are they still coming up with new insults? Chuuya hadn't even had the energy to tell them to shut the fuck up passed the 35-minute mark, about 25 minutes after his throat started to hurt from trying to match their combined volume. It was like they didn't even hear him. They were in their own little world together.

That was what he'd been warned about, though, wasn't it? Akutagawa and the tiger boy had… tension. He had heard about it from Dazai, but hadn't given it much thought. After all, why would he bother listening to anything that mummy's asshole says off the battlefield? He would happily throw Dazai off a building if he wasn't sure it would make that freak even happier than it would make Chuuya. Something about this train of thought makes Chuuya feel like a hypocrite for some reason. Where was he?

"At least I don't dip my bangs in Wite-Out!"

"Your impoverished ass could only afford one bang!"

Oh right, this thick fog of something making itself at home in Chuuya's backseat and inside his pounding skull. He had thought it was just a joke or an exaggeration, but this much passion for each other? Could all of that really just be simple hate? No, this doesn't really feel like hate. But if they don't hate each other why tell themselves that they do? That's so self-destructive. They should just confront their feelings like adults. Even if those feelings aren't romantic they could still find themselves good friends, they have a lot in common. At least they'd stop making their sexual tension or whatever everyone else's problem.

Why does Chuuya feel like a hypocrite again?

—

Chuuya stares into the rear-view mirror. The new Double Black had practically passed out five minutes into the drive to Yokohama. Not surprising after the mission had turned out to be far more complicated then they had anticipated. He wasn't complaining, he really couldn't deal with another three hours of angry sound waves bouncing around an enclosed space. Truthfully, they'd earned the rest. Even when the situation was going to shit they'd worked well together. Atsushi kept Akutagawa's mind on the civilians while Akutagawa's support kept Atsushi calm and focused. Chuuya sees now why Dazai put them together, not that Chuuya would ever openly tell the man he was right.

So he'd let the pair sleep, only debating whether he should wake them up after the blessedly silent car had crossed the Yokohama city limit. He had glanced into the mirror and caught sight of something that made him suddenly redirect as much attention as he safely could to it. The Sun had set halfway through the drive so he had had to wait for the car to pass the next street light to get a good look at it, and sure enough he saw exactly what he thought he had. At some point in the drive Atsushi and Akutagawa had leaned into each other while they slept. Atsushi's head was now resting on Akutagawa's shoulder while the mafioso's head rested on top of the weretiger's. Chuuya smiled. Definitely not hate.

As the car nears the ADA office, where Atsushi was to be dropped off, Chuuya pulls into a gas station with a new mission in mind. After he puts the car in park he takes out his phone and hopes that fatigue keeps the pair asleep and unaware while he does what needs to be done. He gambles on using the flash and wins a nice, clear picture that's going to absolutely make his fucking day the next time Akutagawa decides to make him sit through another "that goddamn foolish weretiger" rant. But was it really fair to make just Akutagawa suffer when Atsushi was about as responsible for Chuuya's three-hour ordeal earlier? No. And isn't the ADA all about that justice shit?

Chuuya opens his text thread with Dazai, taps his thumbs to the screen a few times, and hands down Atsushi's sentence with the push of 'Send'. He only has to wait a few seconds before the weretiger's irritating superior responds.

Mackerel (21:04): Oh my god, thank you so much for this! How useful my dog is becoming!

You (21:04): I seriously can't do this with you right now, Dazai. Those little bastards almost wiped me out on the way to the mission. They argued the entire time. I'm fucking tired.

Mackerel (21:05): Impressive, isn't it?

"Impressive" was one way of putting it. "Never gonna happen again" was another.

[inchidentally]

hiii inch!

as the resident landoscar scholar/essayist in the community, i'm curious about your take on their debriefs! ps. i love them both equally so i'm not trying to favor one over the other, just genuinely curious about your thoughts on it :)

it definitely could just be them having different styles of communicating and/or explaining things but i've noticed that whenever lando wins, he always shares his gratitude/appreciation for the team and oscar (even when oscar didn't directly 'help' him) and oscar will give lando credit for winning but then just talk about how bad he did in the race

yet whenever oscar wins, not only does lando hype him up, but he doesn't talk about himself in the debrief & oscar (at least not to my knowledge) has yet to thank/acknowledge lando for contributing to his win (& strangely enough has always thanked sponsors instead??)

so yeah, i hope this isn't too ramble-y & i hope you have a great day! <33

your timing is insane anon bc while scholar and essayist are wayyyy too nice ways to describe me being overly consumed w a hyperfixation, I was actually noticing things similar to your ask in comments sections and had written something that I wasn't sure about posting ! but I think it's worth it simply bc there is such a huge misfire with interpreting Oscar going on - totally not saying you are, anon and you were very clear in what you've said and I rly appreciate you wanting to know my take <3

- first thing to dispel is “Lando thanked Oscar for his first win/for helping make his first win happen” - he didn't! he thanked him for showing what the car was capable of with overtakes. I know I know! reality isn’t as bromancey but the sweetness of it was Lando giving Oscar’s drive a little shout out, but it was not him thanking Oscar for helping with his win. that's why they all chuckled when he stated the reason. and the sweetness remains <3<3 gotta clear that up bc there is no lingering double standard going on there. it’s the same as Oscar praising Lando’s drives. (also, apropos of this ask and ppl seeing Oscar as deficient - contrast that with how Oscar did very deliberately thank Lando for welcoming him to the team!)

- the other thing to dispel is the recency bias of thinking Lando praises and mentions Oscar this much on a regular basis/Oscar doesn’t mention Lando at all (anon, I know you’re not saying that btw). now! reality is that Lando's POV =/= his stans' POV. so from his perspective, as of recently he feels a need to assert himself to the media as a team player and to acknowledge Oscar more and make it known that he acknowledges Oscar helping him in similar ways. I’m not even going to dip a little toe into the reasons why, all that matters is that this is what Lando sees as something he needs to do and say right now especially. plenty of team orders instances and races have gone by where Lando doesn’t mention or acknowledge Oscar or Oscar’s help and plenty of times where Oscar has been the one to bring up and praise Lando where Lando hasn’t etc etc.

to the point where !! last season we had people concerned that Oscar was so Lando-centric and mentioned him so much and was such a great team player with team orders and being happy and supportive for Lando’s successes even when his own race was misery or the result was gutting or he just lost out on a podium - but that Lando wasn’t bringing Oscar up at all or acknowledging Oscar’s races. the turntables etc! literally had the flip situation! (even extending to this season in Melbourne where Lando got so wrapped up in his Quadrant filming and podium he kind of forgot it was Oscar’s literal hometown race salfsafjlah in the post race press conf a journalist brought it up and he was like ‘oh’ - like, Oscar was not upset about that he just wanted a podium!)

and guess what - in both cases it was never a problem for either Lando or Oscar!

seriously, I cannot emphasize enough how much what teammates like Lando and Oscar say to the media and fans is for the media and fans and NOT how they actually communicate to each other as people. Charles and Carlos openly admit they’ll bite chunks out of each other at times in media but then they see each other in person, immediately hug and are totally fine. PR is PR. it’s either not reality or at best it’s a publicly-framed version of it. which leads to…

- Lando and Oscar don’t do the PR or the bromance thing. instead they giggle and side-eye their way through having to do scripted stuff and media interviews, and thankfully their occasional shared-brain thing and contrasting personalities are fun enough for most fans to enjoy. and literally the fact that they beam into each other’s faces Like That and it’s incredibly endearing. which is exactly how they handle these post race videos - trust me, they are not sitting there in media talking the same way they do in their little closed off world of just their drivers rooms and no one else. or even when cameras are off and they’re just around the team or other drivers. equally, they aren’t viewing how they talk about each other to media and fans as relevant. it’s solely how they talk to each other.

- Oscar is an acts of service guy; Lando is a words of affirmation guy. as Lando fandom has so much discussion around mental health*, it is very worth reminding that mental health inclusivity means learning the different ways that different personalities express affection and friendship! there is not just one way! clearly, Lando is very happy with having a teammate who may not talk much but his fondness of Lando makes up multiple compilation videos and posts about being absolutely whipped when it comes to … almost anything Lando wants or prefers (“nope, I’m gonna keep you happy”). and paying such close attention to Lando talking that he helps fill in the blanks when Lando’s brain struggles in public. and watching closely when Lando looked like he might trip over his own race suit. 

- it’s worth mentioning here that Oscar inspires genuine affection in people who gain absolutely nothing from openly liking him. he maintains friendships from his early karting days, still has a group chat from the boys in his boarding house at school, and has been with Lily for 4 or 5 years now - but all of those people either have private social media or have remained so thoroughly normal that they’re undetectable. Tom Stallard, his race engineer, and Andrea Stella have taken to Oscar like a nephew/son despite Oscar not being a demonstratively emotional person (and how for himself he views extreme emotions on par with negative emotions which is innnnteresting!). bear in mind that Andrea and Tom remain very fond of Carlos and count him as a friend still, so their judgment is very much to be trusted <3 if you look up Oscar’s mum Nicole’s episode on The Red Flags Pod she confirms that he’s truly Just Like That and his family adore him. there’s also this tiny but very telling moment of Oscar sending a journalist gifts for their new baby and the fact that The Fast and the Curious Pod (wholesome nerds HQ) view Oscar as their child. and that Abbi Pulling thinks he’s “too nice to be a racing driver”. it’s healthy to learn how to receive love and affection from people based on how they are naturally and comfortably rather than expecting them to behave in ways that are more socially the norm/seen as "acceptable"! 

*and side note it’s extremely gross and anti-mental health the way certain F1 fans have genuinely decided to interpret Oscar’s personality type as evil or cold or unfeeling. that is so profoundly backward and bigoted boomery thinking. yes it’s fine to joke a bit that Oscar’s a baby-face killer or robotic IF you make it clear it’s not true. but when I get sent links to adult women on tiktok claiming that Oscar’s mother and sister are part of some grand PR scheme orchestrated by McLaren to manipulate and maximize Oscar’s image then we’ve officially left the whole ‘I support mental health’ thing and entered ‘I persecute and suspect people who don’t fit a socially acceptable norm’. because of all the drivers who quite literally do orchestrate and manipulate PR for growing their careers or their impact (which is fine btw!!) sorry, Nicole’s sporadic social media presence is not remotely skillful PR and Oscar’s little sister is a college girl using tiktok to talk about her own interests. and if Oscar was trying to PR his way into whatever gain people imagine an introvert who dislikes being on camera could possibly gain then he’s doing an abominable job! his sponsors are still the ones he’s had since before F1 (including his dad’s company), his social media is as standard and bland with highly irregular sprinklings of personality, and he isn’t branching out into anything outside his racing career. like, sorry to destroy anyone’s insane projections of some grand plan onto a guy who truly is just happy to have his job and hang out with his friends and his girlfriend lasfgljsagfjlagfslagfsaj

so anyway, when Lando and McLaren team and staff members love on Oscar, it’s because it’s real and they clearly feel reciprocation from Oscar despite it not being traditionally emotional or verbal. plenty of teams and teammates can be neutral to fully disinterested in a driver and it's fine for it to be like that. if nobody actually liked Oscar or found him cold or unfeeling, they would make little to no effort to seem like they love him or like him. F1 isn't team sports, the whole public face of it aspect just doesn't exist outside of backmarker teams who need social media engagement to keep sponsors happy.

- Oscar is famously Not ! a public speaking/on camera/PR/media person and you can see in their early 2023 stuff how much Lando helps him (this video esp is painfully cute bc Lando encourages and praises him and Oscar’s so pleased he does a song and dance). ask any longtime Oscar fan and they’ll tell you he’s leaned on the energy of extroverts and PR skilled people his whole racing career. and no, he really does not try to be a meme that's just what happens to awkward introverted ppl who have to be on camera a lot ;__;

- Lando used to be just as uncomfortable as Oscar with this stuff! and he’s said many times he has learned and adapted to be better at public speaking and media work, just as Oscar is learning! Carlos basically socialized and raised Lando from shy, twitchy mumbly little introvert to the person he became around 2021/2022. and we all observed how Lando basically copied Carlos and Daniel’s sense of humor to develop the bromance content we all know and love. and he does the same with Max F on streams as well. I wish I could find it but he said in one of the early winter break 2023 streams how he ‘usually lets other people do most of the talking and he interjects occasionally’.

-re the “thanking the sponsors” thing: to help Oscar get by on camera, especially with spontaneous speaking, Oscar uses little ‘scripts’ he’s worked out and approved of ahead of time so that he doesn’t have to deal with the white noise that hits him when having to speak spontaneously (the famous little ahhhh’s and uhhhhm’s and long delays he has before answering). which is why things like thanking the sponsors has been in rotation lately since it’s something Andrea said (remember him being teased for saying 'we're in Austria' x 50? and repeating the bit about his wisdom teeth? and the refrain of ‘my girlfriend says…’) because he’s just trying to get out something he knows is acceptable and palatable. compare the stiffness of his post race videos with when he’s one on one with an interviewer (the Laura Winter one is great) or filming non-scripted stuff w Lando and you can see the difference between him feeling under pressure vs how he expresses himself when he’s relaxed. 

- it’s genuinely weird and adorable how Oscar doesn’t use gushy language or do PDA with Lily or Lando, but in exactly the same way with both he loves bringing up their little quirks or what they disagree with him about or things they like that he doesn’t etc ??? idk if they’re secretly very similar or what but for some reason Oscar shows his affection for them only occasionally in plain terms, but mostly by bringing them up seemingly for no reason and in extremely mundane ways ?? idk it’s just a very very cute observation I wanted to point out and he doesn’t do that with any other people aslfgsljagfafgl

so yes, those are the Things To Know about Oscar and his relationship with other people and with Lando to explain why he isn’t like Lando, Carlos, or Daniel. and that whether or not Lando or Oscar bring each other up or acknowledge each other in media duties is not something to get stuck on because that’s not something they personally pay attention to in their relationship. we got used to a specific almost identical type of teammate relationship with Lando’s previous two - and even other teammates who are less close all follow a similar pattern of humor and media friendly behavior. but Oscar is weird, Lando is weird and just adapts better, and they’re both very weird together. they can mindread when not under pressure and they obsess over details about each other’s food and choices etc and go off on bizarre tangents about naps and music and they don’t like posting content about their downtime together/purely social hanging out. oh and they openly complain that they want to spend more non-racing time together as if they couldn’t just… do it more ?? yea they’re just like that.

somehow I have more to say but it’s mostly observations so under a cut it goes (but the stuff above is basically the main points I wanted to make!)

a lot of misconceptions have happened both because Lando's grown and changed so much since the start of 2023 and because Oscar's real personality is so slow to be revealed... and tbh it's def yet to be understood fully by a lot of people…

Lando very openly kicked against the idea of being the older/more experienced big brother role widely expected of him when Oscar was announced for Mclaren (to this day he jokingly but semi seriously says he envies Oscar’s “youth”). Lando had spent the previous four years as little brother and gotten very comfortable in that role. around Austin 2023, he realized Oscar was happy to look after himself and didn't need serious help with anything except media/PR/public speaking. this is where Lando found his big brother role and ran with it happily. it’s where the Finish the Lyrics video happened and we saw a major shift in the landoscar dynamic.

take Lando’s initial insecurity trying to figure out the dynamic with a quiet, low energy rookie and contrast that with how someone five years behind in experience to their teammate is NOT as secure of his position** and has much more to prove. yes Oscar has a contract but he knows better than anyone !! that those are not set in stone or immutable. he frequently has said - and his mom has said - Lando's place in F1 is already established as a front-runner. therefore Oscar's job is to push himself and prove himself to that level.

all of which is why you can’t look at Lando and Oscar in media - or even on track - and mistake their closeness in age for being able to judge them similarly. 

**the refrain of 'why can't he be a support driver until Lando gets a WDC' is easy to answer: for one thing absolutely NO driver wants that and for another, he very understandably does not assume he has the space or stability to just not try his hardest unless specifically asked by the team. 

without opening a can of worms on my personal opinions, I’ve consulted my family/friends of family who have been F1 obsessed since I was born - and the reality of guys who are seen or who actually are ‘support driver’ (not rly an official term but we all know what it is) is NOT the same as a number 2 driver, and neither of those are even options for Oscar. 

a number 2 is a driver seen as having become relatively disposable compared to the number 1 and who just wants to keep a seat in F1 despite the insult. they will at least tacitly accept that their role is to follow team orders and suck it up while number 1 chases the glory (whether that’s points or podiums). a number 2 has a limited life span either because his skill drops off and he becomes a liability or because he can’t stand it after a while.

a support driver is someone who either brings money/sponsorships/a unique regional fanbase and can occasionally or at least theoretically compete with their teammate. and who for whatever reason is judged as the guy who has to suck it up when the other guy has a better shot at the glory. but if the other guy falls behind or suffers a DNF, the support driver is automatically the number one. and if the support driver has a shitty season or the gap in ability widens between him and his teammate, he retains his seat anyway because of the money/sponsorships/unique regional fanbase he brings. so basically, he’s pretty damn safe.

Oscar does not bring money, sponsorships or a unique regional fanbase. Australia doesn’t need convincing to be invested in F1, Oscar’s sponsorships are peanuts compared to what sponsor-grabber Zak Brown already has and Oscar’s funding ran out before F1 and his career only continued because of Mark Webber taking an interest in him (for more on that, see K’s excellent primer - you can scroll down to the screencap of a sheet with a lot of numbers on it for that particular part). and despite insane conspiracy theories about him, Oscar’s PR and image not only don’t have anywhere near the numbers of many other drivers, he also had to recover from the immensely bad PR following Alpinegate. he had most fans of McLaren, Alpine, Danny Ric and Lando (as the prospective teammate) all hating his guts before he’d even stepped into his first papaya race suit. all he’s had getting him past all of that was his promise from F2 and F3 and then his improvement as a driver.

so that’s being support driver out of the question.

and also referencing Mark Webber, without leaning too cornily into the obvious like… no, Oscar’s not going to be the one F1 driver to be okay with the idea of being a number 2. his own mother said how he viewed potentially having Lando as a teammate as advantageous for a rookie because he wouldn’t be expected to match up immediately. the flipside of that is what he’s had to achieve and become immediately after his rookie year in order to be seen as around Lando’s level. his job is to prove to McLaren and to his race team that he's going to try and bring them the best result on every outing. if mathematically that means team orders in favor of Lando then fine, which he's more than proven he'll do. but without said orders, Oscar's job remains to try and get at the very front - just like it is Lando's. there isn't an option or a reason for Oscar to just... intentionally fail or ease off that responsibility (again, unless ordered to).

so that's a no go for being a number 2 driver.

and some more about Oscar and mental health for those who think it only applies to drivers who talk about it frequently: Oscar has talked about how, when his dad came with him to the UK, initially Oscar felt he had "too much time to think". and about his difficulties in moving all alone to boarding school (“sacrificing” being with his family) on the other side of the world at fourteen. I cannot for the life of me find the post again but he even hired a sports psychologist to help him. he’s always been called mature and competent for his age and he and Lily seemed to just go right into domestic almost-married codependency after about two years together. there’s a whole school of thought about children who leave home early and parentification and boarding school syndrome etc but that’s getting way too speculative for even me to go into. but basically, Oscar leapt into a lot of unknowns without a lot of the usual safety nets drivers have/have had. he's had to be self-reliant in a way that's not common among the extreme privilege of the average F1 driver and for those who have it similar to him, they have a similar outlook and approach***. so to mistake his confidence and determination for cockiness or coldness is as wildly off as people misinterpreting Lando’s genuine honesty for him being a cocky asshole. overall, Oscar’s self-assurance and maturity are why he’s continued and succeeded in such a volatile sport and pipedream career because compared to a lot of other drivers on the grid, he has not had a smooth or assured journey.

***obv in reality, apart from Ocon and Hamilton, we're always talking about very relative disadvantages. but Oscar is absolutely in the class of drivers who have to live far away from a family support system and who financially were not guaranteed career progression.

by contrast, Lando was a totally unique phenom and had big, welcoming hands grab him as a teenager and bring him into the McLaren and F1 fold. pundits and cameras and fans all saw him bringing drinks to Alonso and toddling around being helpful in the garage before his time with the team had even come. by the time he drove his first F1 race he was already everyone's beloved baby and Carlos basically got a crash course in parenting as he took full responsibility for socializing Lando and even having to cope with his teenage mood swings. Lando also had a comparatively gentle learning curve by dint of being so immensely talented and exceeding expectation for his age - but also always having older, more experienced teammates as his nearest competition. I will say he made sure to state he didn't want people to give him bias simply because his teammates had such an advantage of experience - and that he personally judged himself equally against them (to his detriment of confidence sometimes!). but it's only logical that people would factor in the age gaps anyway. by the time he'd entered his third year in F1 he was firmly established, had one of the largest fanbases and McLaren couldn't have made it clearer how badly they wanted to keep him from the clutches of other teams.

again - very much NOT saying that Lando doesn't feel the need or pressure to keep proving himself because he absolutely does, but it's still a VERY unique and unusual first few years in F1 !! 

Oscar had a very different experience of not knowing if he could progress after winning F2, having to hang around in reserve and then show up at McLaren without much fanfare (except the unanimous walls of hate from Danny Ric fans, Alpine fans and McLaren fans) and work from the backmarkers up with the team to prove himself - all while those months before the upgrades were spent with fans united in wanting him to fail and celebrating his difficulties.

so yea, all even more worth bearing in mind when it comes to how Lando takes the approach of speaking about Oscar and the team from a proprietary sense of pride - versus Oscar still focusing on his own races because it’s normal for young drivers early in their careers to be more focused on proving themselves and asserting themselves in order to become established in the way Lando is now. they seem so similar in so many ways but when it comes to their positions in the team and in the sport, it’s well worth remembering that big gap exists and why it makes them different sometimes - but that crucially, they end those post race videos united either in misery or in happiness and pride <3

I AM SO SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS FAR GOD I WON’T SHUT UPPPP

[likedovesinthewindd]

enemies to lovers with farleigh!!! he claims to dislike you but whenever he sees you with other guys at parties or wherever else he comes around and says something to scare them off :p <3

i love your writing sm btw!!!!!!! 💋

thank you sooo much, lovie!!! I changed this up just a little bit. I hope you don't mind. (fem!reader) | wc: ±1450

a/n: he's so fine omg...

You felt like you were at your wits' end when it came to dating. Things would always start out nicely; you and the potential suitor would click, and then somewhere along the line, they'd just ghost you, stop all communication and pretend that they didn't know you at all.

It started to feel like the universe's way of punishing you. For what, you wouldn't know.

You looked over to where Anabel's eyes had been. He had been eyeing you, and he wasn't bad-looking at all. You spared him a shy smile, downing the last of your drink and gaining an extra bit of liquid courage before making your way over to the stranger.

"He hasn't called me back," you frowned, the clicking of your phone's buttons heard faintly over the music playing. You snapped it closed, shoving it back into your purse as you sank a little further into the couch.

"Screw him, honestly," your friend Anabel said, bringing her cup to her lips as her eyes scanned over the crowd. Her eyes lit up before she spared you a look. "Guy in the ugly sweater over there's been eyeing you," she said with a smirk. You shook your head, taking a sip of your own drink. "C'mon, forget about whatshisname. This one's cuter, anyway."

The conversation went well. It didn't feel too awkward and forced, and the guy, James, you learned, was quite funny and interesting. You excused yourself briefly to use the bathroom, urging him to wait for you, which he agreed to, but when you came back, he was nowhere to be found. You searched around the crowded house, just to find James with another girl, obviously very interested in her judging by the way he was currently eating at her face.

You had no reason to really feel angry. The two of you were not even really friends, but you'd be lying if you said you haven't been interested in seeing him again. You made your way to the kitchen to try your luck at finding another beer when you saw Felix at the punch bowl you had been avoiding all night, helping himself to a serving full to the brim. His eyes lit up when he saw you, a smile stretching across his face so wide that it made his eyes almost close completely.

Your smile mimicked his, extending your arms to give him a quick hug. Despite how badly things between you and Farleigh turned out, you were happy to still have Felix as a friend. "How've you been, mate? God, I haven't seen you in how long," he guffawed, eyes peering over his cup as he took a sip of his drink.

"I've been good, just...y'know," you shrugged, resting your back against the fridge. "What?" he asked, silently inquiring you to continue. A part of you was reluctant to tell Felix of all people about your failing love life, a fear in the back of your mind that he might tell Farleigh about it and the two of them will have a laugh at your misery. But you knew you could trust Felix, so you decided to come clean.

"Every guy I'm interested in ghosts me," you said with a small laugh, your shoulders slumping. "I'm beginning to think I'm just an unbearable person to be around."

"Nonsense," Felix deadpanned. "I think it has more to do with more to do with the fact that you've been branded," he said with a laugh, taking another gulp of his drink. "What do you mean?" you asked, watching his smile falter at your question. "You don't..?" he watched the confusion form on your face before clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Farleigh, he," he started, "he was this habit of 'warning' people about you." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "He scares people off when he sees them with you. It's his way of keeping you available, I guess."

Your blood was boiling. Breath coming in at short intervals as you tried to calm yourself down, but to no avail. "I kinda thought you knew he did that," Felix said softly. You only nodded, leaving him in the kitchen as you made your way outside to get some fresh air. Once the cold air bit at your skin, you calmed down substantially. You reached in your jacket's pocket for your cigarette, taking one out and searching through your clothes' pockets for your lighter, frustration deepening the harder you searched.

A hand appears in your peripheral, and you gratefully took the offered lighter with a grunted thanks before lighting your cigarette. When you go to give it back, you feel like rather throwing the lighter at Farleigh's stupidly smug face.

"Long timenosee, hm?" he smiled. "You really have a fucking nerve," you stated, pulling the burning cigarette from between your lips. "What gives you the right?" you continued, not giving him a chance to respond, "telling people to stay away from me?"

He huffed out a small, humorless laugh before rubbing the back of his thumb across his bottom lip. "Who told you that?" he tried, and now it was your turn to laugh. "It doesn't matter. Please leave me alone," you said, making your way back inside only to be stopped by Farleigh's grip on your upper arm. "Farleigh," you warned. "C'mon, don't be like that," he tried, and you scoffed. "Like what? Why do you even care who I talk to?"

"I want you back," he said, looking down at you. You allowed yourself your first good look at him, and that's when you noticed his droopy, slightly glassy eyes and blown out pupils. "You're drunk," you said softly, to which he shook his head vehemently. "So what? I'm not saying this because I'm drunk, I'm saying it because it's true," he reassoned. The cigarette hung loosely from your finger, dead by now in your grasp.

"Why do I think I'd care?" he quipped, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his tone. "I don't know. It wasn't like you were the one who ended things in the first place," you quipped back. "And what of I told you I regret that?" he asked softly.

"I'd tell you I don't care," you said, loosening his grip on you, only for him to grap your hand. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"I wanna make it up to you," he whispered, "wanna treat you right this time," his thumb rubbing across the top of your hand that was still in his grasp.

"Why couldn't you do it right the last time?" you whispered, peering at him. "I was a dick. I dunno—" he slightly slurred. "Farleigh..."

"No, I really wanna make it work this time, please. I miss you." The slight whine in his voice made your heart ache with longing, remembering all the good times the two of you used to have. You missed Farleigh, that much was hard to admit to yourself in the first place. But you didn't know if you were willing to take that risk again, if Farleigh was really truthful about what he was saying.

"I'm serious," he half-slurred, trying his very best to act sober. "Please, I've been miserable without you." You chewed at the inside of your mouth, the alcohol leaving a funny frank taste in your mouth. You'd be lying if you said you weren't also miserable without him, but a part of you was still hurting and a bit petty. He looked like a kicked dog, crawling back to you after biting you, waiting and begging for forgiveness. His once sharp and expressive brown eyes now darkened with sorrow and his head hanging low, tail between his legs. The facade he had been putting up these few months had finally fallen, and you got to see how much the split truly affected him.

"You said you weren't ready to commit," you said. "I lied. I was scared to commit. It was getting too real, and I didn't know how to handle it." You looked down at your shoes, the chrome tips of your heels shining in the yellow porch light. You looked up at Farleigh, the same sorrow look on his face that still made your heart clench.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" you asked, his confession a little too much for your tipsy brain to handle right now. He looked as though he wanted to argue no, but he shook his head in agreement, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, before lighting one. "We'll talk about it tomorrow then," he said as a cloud of smoke left his mouth simultaneously.

You gave him a small smile, the warmth in your cheeks spreading across your face when you saw him mirror your smile. You took his face in hand, lanky body still slightly hunched over, and placed a kiss on his cheek, the drugstore lipstick leaving its dark maroon mark behind. You stroked your thumb across it gently, careful not to smush the shape before letting go of his face. "Now I've branded you," you added with a smile before making your way back inside.