#love how each of these express a different emotion

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[flwrstqr]

— YOU CAN LOVE ME (OR NOT)

₊˚⊹ notes ~ enemy!riki x !femreader ⋆⭒ warnings: not proofread, kissing, petnames, crying, confession, ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 word count: 400+ ꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, high school au ish | AN: enemies to lovers is so riki's trope. like go argue with da wall 🔥| LIBRARY FOR MORE...

AS A PAIR OF ARMS ENVELOPED YOU, you turned to meet Riki's familiar smirk.

"Hi, love," he winked.

"Stop calling me that," you groaned.

"What, love?" he teased, noting your expression.

"That," you rolled your eyes, "And hands off."

"Sheesh," he teased further, "If you say so, love."

"I hate you."

"Hate and love, what's the difference?"

As a pair of arms enveloped you, you turned to meet Riki's familiar smirk.

"Hi, love," he winked.

"Stop calling me that," you groaned.

"What, love?" he teased, noting your expression.

"That," you rolled your eyes, "And hands off."

"Sheesh," he teased further, "If you say so, love."

"I hate you."

"Hate and love, what's the difference?"

"DID YOU HEAR RIKI LIKES SOMEONE?" Minjeong whispered, startling you. You coughed, recovering from your surprise.

"What?" Your heart skipped a beat. "Who?"

"Word is it's Danielle," Minjeong shrugged. "Doesn't matter though, considering how you two can't stand each other. Finally, he'll stop pestering you."

Your throat tightened. "Right, doesn't matter." You forced a smile and walked on with your friend.

IT WAS 9 PM, the chilly breeze sending shivers down Riki's spine as he walked hrough the empty streets that use to be bustling during the daytime. In the distance, he spotted a figure, one he'd known for years, one he'd teased relentlessly each morning. "YN?" he called, noticing tears in your eyes as you turned.

Without any words, you run to his arms, crying into his shirt. Riki stood, watching you cry into his shirt, letting it soak. He didn’t care about his shirt, he just let you cry and get your emotions out.

“Love?” he whispers, a voice you were yearning to hear for the past hour.

"Don't call me that," you mumbled, your face buried in his shirt, his cologne offering solace.

"Why not, princess?" he murmured softly, stroking your hair.

"Just because," you muttered, puzzled by his tenderness. Why was he acting so differently?

"What's wrong, princess?" he inquired, gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

"Nothing," you sniffled, wiping your tears.

"It's definitely something. Tell me," he urged, giving you a small pout.

"Fine, you want to know? Okay. I was crying because Minjeong said you liked Danielle, and I realized how much I liked you, knowing you didn't feel the same because I'm your enemy. I'm sorry for falling for you and how cute you are, and—" Your confession was interrupted by his lips on yours. Frozen, you felt him deepen the kiss, his arms pulling you closer.

As you broke away, cheeks burning, you stared at him, bewildered.

"W-what?" you stammered, trying to make sense of the moment.

"You got some wrong information. I don't like Danielle. I like you. YN LN," he confessed, grinning at your flustered expression.

"You do?" you asked, cautiously hopeful.

"I promise, love," he grinned. "So, are we a thing?"

"Are we?" you echoed, blushing furiously.

"Looks like someone's blushing, so I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled.

"Shut up, you're blushing too."

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Fortnight. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: Y/N and Mattheo had a deep love for each other, but a misunderstanding led to a fight and a hasty decisions to lead them to different paths.

Warnings: Angst , Angst , and a lot of angst, strong language.

Words: 3.8k

Mattheo and I sat on the plush armchairs, a suffocating silence stretched between us. We hadn't spoken in hours, not since the argument at the Three Broomsticks.

"Just say it, Y/N," Mattheo finally broke the silence, his voice laced with a frustration that mirrored my own.

"Say what?" I challenged, my own voice tight with unshed tears.

"This," he gestured vaguely between us, "whatever this fight is about. Spit it out."

"It's not a fight, Mattheo," I snapped, the words sharper than I intended. "It's… it's your career choice."

He scoffed, a humorless sound that scraped against my raw nerves. "Here we go again. You think I'm going to be some Ministry drone pushing paper?"

"No! That's not what I—"

"Then what is it?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "What is it you want me to do, Y/N? Follow in your father's footsteps and chase Dark wizards for the rest of my life? Is that what makes a good man?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. Where was this coming from? "Mattheo, of course not! It's not about the Ministry or Auror training. It's about…" I faltered, the words catching in my throat.

"About what?" he pressed, his dark brown eyes boring into mine.

"It's about… about you not even considering it," I whispered, the sting of unshed tears burning my eyes.

He seemed to flinch at that, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a bitter laugh escaped his lips. "So that's it? My dreams and aspirations don't matter because they don't fit your perfect Auror wife mold?"

Anger flared within me, hot and destructive. "Don't be ridiculous! It's not about some 'mold'! It's about… about having a future together. A future where we at least talk about these things, where you consider my feelings."

"Your feelings?" He repeated, a humorless smile twisting his features. "Do you have any idea how this makes me feel, Y/N? Like I'm not good enough for you, like my dreams are somehow lesser than yours!"

“No! That's not…" I began, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away.

"Then what is it, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice tight with held-back emotion. "Do you want me to follow you around like a lost puppy while you explore the world? Is that your idea of a future together?"

"That's not what I meant… you know it's not!"

He took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with a newfound resolve. "Maybe not," he conceded, his voice devoid of warmth. "But maybe that's enough."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing alone, the weight of his unspoken words crushing me. Pride, that stubborn, suffocating thing, kept me rooted to the spot. I should have chased after him, explained myself, begged him to stay.

But the words wouldn't come. We were both too caught up in the sting of hurt, our love momentarily overshadowed by a misunderstanding neither of us had the courage to unravel.

That was the last time I saw him.

The weight of his final words hung heavy, each syllable a tiny hammer blow to my already fractured heart. We were supposed to spend the summer solidifying our plans, weaving our dreams together. Instead, we were left with a tangled mess of unspoken desires and a chasm of wounded pride.

Days bled into weeks, each sunrise a fresh reminder of his absence. I clung to the hope that he'd return, that this was just a lovers' spat, a temporary blip in our otherwise perfect story. I kept expecting to see his familiar silhouette at the window, to hear his knock on the worn wooden door.

Foolishly, I refused to believe that our fight, fueled by misunderstandings and misplaced anger, could be the end.

But the days stretched into agonizing silence. No owl arrived with a heartfelt apology, no apologetic voice graced the other end of the floo network. My phone, a muggle invention I rarely used, remained stubbornly quiet. The silence was deafening, a constant reminder of the gaping hole his absence left in my life.

Finally, the day arrived for my departure to France. Packing was a blur, each item I folded a silent goodbye to the life I'd envisioned with Mattheo. I clung to the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd show up at the station, a last-minute attempt to mend what was broken. But the platform remained empty, save for the bustling crowd of eager travelers.

Did he leave Hogwarts? Where did he go? Desperate for answers, I reached out to his closest friend, Theo. His reply was short: "Ireland. Apprenticeship with some Potions Master."

With a heavy heart, I boarded the train, the rhythmic click-clack of the wheels echoing the beat of my shattered heart.

Five Years Later:

My fingers traced the spine of a well-worn copy of "Advanced Potion-Making." Lost in thought, I barely registered the figure brushing past me until a familiar voice sent a jolt through my system.

"Excuse me," the voice said, polite yet laced with a hint of amusement. "Do you happen to know where they keep their floo powder?"

I turned, my breath catching in my throat. Standing there, looking every bit the accomplished Potions Master, was Mattheo. Five years had passed and he looked even more handsome if that was even possible, but his eyes – those dark brown eyes that still held the power to disarm me – were unmistakable.

For a moment, we were frozen in time, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between us. A thousand unspoken words hung heavy in the air – apologies, explanations, the weight of years spent apart.

"Y/N" He finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. 

I managed a shaky nod, surprised at how easily the name slipped past my lips. "Mattheo."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a hint of the old mischief I remembered. "Auror Y/L/N, I presume? Quite the impressive career you've built for yourself."

"And you," I countered, forcing a lightness into my voice that I didn't quite feel. "Master Alchemist, they say.Congratulations."

He chuckled, a low, melodic sound that echoed in the quiet bookstore. "Exaggerations, but the work keeps me busy."

An awkward silence descended, heavy with unspoken questions. Did he know about France? About the scholarship? Did he ever regret leaving? The urge to blurt it all out, to bridge the chasm of the past five years, warred with the fear of rejection.

He cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "So, floo powder?" he gestured towards the back of the store.

"Right," I stammered, leading the way with a pounding heart. "Second shelf on the left."

As we walked, a million questions danced on my tongue, but before I could voice any of them, he spoke again.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with a hesitant.

I lifted my chin, forcing a smile. "I'm doing great," I replied, meeting his gaze head-on. I lied, the words hollow in my mouth.

"I'm glad," he said, a flicker of something crossing his face that I couldn't place.

We reached the shelf and retrieved the floo powder. As I handed it to him, our fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity shot through me, a stark reminder of the connection that still simmered beneath the surface. Both of us pulled our hands away quickly, as if scalded.

"Did you meet someone?" he blurted out, his voice betraying his usual composure.

The question hung in the air, a painful echo of the unresolved past. "I've been focusing on work," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. And I'm trying to move on from you still, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.

"What about you?" I managed, my voice shaky.

A shadow crossed his face. "It's complicated," he said, and my heart shattered. He met someone, and it's complicated with them, while I'm still here, nursing the wounds of a love lost.

I plastered a smile on my face, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over. "It was nice to see you again, Mattheo," I said, trying to sound genuine. And to my surprise, a flicker of pain mirrored mine in his eyes.

"Me too," he replied, his voice rough with emotion.

And with that, he tossed the floo powder into the fireplace, disappearing in a swirl of emerald flames. I stood there, alone amidst the lingering scent of his cologne and the ghosts of a love that might have been, my heart heavy with a renewed ache.

Two years later

The cheers echoed around me, a cacophony of joy and pride. My family and friends beamed, their faces flushed with excitement.

Tonight was the culmination of years of relentless work. I had secured the biggest Auror investment in Ministry history, a project that would revolutionize magical law enforcement. It was a dream come true, a shining testament to everything I'd poured my heart and soul into.

Yet, amidst the celebration, a hollowness resonated within me. The champagne flute felt heavy in my hand, the celebratory clinking of glasses a jarring counterpoint to the deafening silence within. 

Success, once the ultimate goal,tasted like ashes on my tongue.

I excused myself, slipping away to the secluded balcony overlooking the bustling city. The cool night air wrapped around me as I leaned against the railing, gazing at the luminous moon, a silent witness to my fractured happiness. Seven years. It had been seven years since that fateful night, the night a misunderstanding ripped our world apart.

Mattheo. The name echoed in the quiet corners of my mind, a bittersweet melody. I never wanted to break up with him.The memory of that fight remained a vivid scar, a constant reminder of the words left unsaid, the choices I hadn't had the courage to make. Deep down, I knew, with a certainty that transcended time, that I would have chosen him over everything – my career, my dreams.

Two years ago, that unexpected encounter at the bookstore had ripped open the scabbed wound. Seeing him again, alive and breathing, reignited a flicker of hope. But the news of someone else in his life, the complicated entanglement,extinguished it as quickly.

A sob escaped my lips, a tear tracing a warm path down my cheek. The celebratory chatter from inside seemed miles away, a muted echo in a world devoid of sound. The clinking glass in my hand remained untouched, a forgotten symbol of a victory that felt hollow.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring the city lights below. I wasn't crying for the career I built, nor for the recognition I finally received. I was crying for the love lost, for the unspoken words, for the future we could have had. I was crying for the silence that resonated louder than any cheer, a silence filled with the weight of "what ifs" and the haunting melody of a love song forever unfinished.

The move-on drugs they all are temporary.

A loud banging startled me awake. I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and peered out the window. A moving truck stood parked in the driveway next door, boxes stacked precariously in its open back. A knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. A new neighbor.

The next day, the evidence of their arrival was clear – vibrant flower pots adorned the previously bare porch. A woman knelt before them, her hands gently adjusting the soil. As I caught her eye, she flashed a warm smile. I returned it, a small flicker of hope igniting within me for a friendly connection.

Before leaving for work the following morning, I saw her outside again.

"Hi there, I'm Gianna," she said, extending a hand. "We just moved in, my husband and I."

I shook her hand, forcing a smile. "Y/N," I replied. "I live right next door. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

"That's so kind of you, thanks!" she chirped.

Suddenly, a voice boomed from inside the house. My smile vanished. That voice, deep and familiar, sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"Coming, my love!" Gianna called back, her sweetness radiating even over the distance. "Can you give me a second outside, please?"

A figure emerged from the house, his form momentarily obscured by the doorway. Then, he stepped into the sunlight, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. It was Mattheo.

Everything froze. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the chirping of birds the only sound breaking the deafening silence. My breath hitched in my throat, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief.

"Mrs. Y/L/N," he finally managed, his voice tight.Then, he glanced towards Gianna, a subtle shift in his expression.

I tried to maintain a veneer of normalcy, but my voice betrayed me. "Mr. Riddle," I replied, the title a barbed wire fence between us.

"We used to go to Hogwarts together," I said, forcing a lightness that felt utterly false. My insides were a churning mess of emotions.

"She's being humble, Mrs. Y/L/N," Mattheo said, his next words a dagger through my heart. "She secured the biggest Auror investment in Ministry history. Quite impressive."

Those words, once a symbol of pride, now hung heavy in the air, a cruel reminder of the chasm that separated us. This was his life now, married, settled. While I, despite my achievements, was still left with the lingering ache of a love lost.

Gianna, blissfully unaware, beamed. "Oh my goodness, that's absolutely fantastic!" Her smile was so genuine, her eyes so kind, that a wave of self-loathing washed over me. Here was a woman radiating warmth and sunshine, and all I felt was a twisted mix of envy and despair.

"Thank you," I croaked, the word scraping against my throat. "I need to get going. It was... lovely to meet you." I forced a smile to her and, managed a small nod towards Mattheo

My legs turned to lead as I walked away, every step a struggle. , refusing to break eye contact for even a fleeting second. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between us, a poignant reminder of the life we could have had.

As I walked away, my legs felt like lead. I didn't dare look back, afraid of what I might see. Reaching my car, I slumped behind the wheel, tears blurring my vision. The sobs came then, a torrent of grief and jealousy that threatened to drown me.

He was married. To a woman who was everything I wasn't – warm, cheerful, seemingly perfect. My successful career, once a source of immense pride, felt like a hollow trophy in the face of this devastating realization.

Once safely inside my car, parked far away from the house, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless. Sobs wracked my body as the full weight of the situation slammed into me. He was married. To an angel, by all appearances. Sweet, kind Gianna, whose happiness felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

The joy of my achievements, once a beacon in the darkness, seemed to dim. All I could see was the life I might have had, the love that slipped through my fingers, all because of a misunderstanding and a misplaced sense of pride.

Daniel had been asking me out for years. A kind, successful Ministry scientist, he was everything one could want on paper. Yet, his invitations always landed on deaf ears. My heart, still clinging to the shattered remnants of a love lost to a misunderstanding, had no room for new beginnings.

He'd been asking me out for years, and in the numb aftermath of seeing Mattheo with his wife, Gianna, I found myself saying yes.

Yes to a date, yes to another date, yes to sleepovers, yes to becoming his girlfriend. Then, in a blur of emotional chaos, yes to becoming his wife. It happened fast, a desperate attempt to fill the gaping hole in my heart.

The white dress felt heavy, suffocating. The lace trimmings brushed against my skin like a constant reminder of the life I wasn't living. Daniel, handsome and successful, stood beside me, beaming with pride. Yet, as the priest declared us husband and wife, I closed my eyes, and the image that filled my mind wasn't his.

The kiss felt like a performance. My lips brushed against Daniel's, a hollow touch that mirrored the emptiness within me. Applause erupted around us, a joyous cacophony that somehow felt distant, muted. My smile was practiced, a mask for the turmoil raging inside.

As congratulations poured in, I felt a tear roll down my cheek, a solitary drop staining the pristine white of my wedding dress. It wasn't a tear of joy, but a tear of grief, a tear for a love lost, a tear for a life that could have been.

Months bled into one another, each day a monotonous echo of the last. Living with Daniel was like existing in a carefully curated museum exhibit – everything pristine, perfectly placed, yet utterly devoid of life. Our interactions had become a practiced dance – polite smiles, small talk about work, and a hollow routine that felt more like obligation than affection.

Even sex with Daniel felt mundane. Today, as he thrust into me, I felt nothing but a desire for it to end so I could finally sleep. His heavy breaths and quick finish only added to the monotony. With one final thrust, he came and collapsed on top of me. I didn't bother faking an orgasm; there was no point. I simply didn't care anymore.

"Do you want me to help you with—" he started to say, but I cut him off.

"No, I'm going to shower," I replied, getting off the bed.

"I promise next time I'll make sure you cum first," he offered.

"Sure, whatever," I responded dismissively.

I couldn't feel anything, not even the pain. Numbness consumed me, and I moved through life like a robot. So, when I received a message about my husband cheating, it didn't even register.

I went to the location mentioned in the message, using my wand to open the door. Inside, I found Daniel with Sandra, one of our colleagues. They were oblivious to my presence, lost in a passionate moment.

He was everything he wasn't with me. His hand caressed her cheek with a tenderness I hadn't seen before. Words spilled from his lips, sweet nothings that he must have forgotten existed in our vocabulary. "I love you, Sandra," he murmured,his voice husky with passion. "It's always been you."

And he made her fucking cum .

As they finished, I stood in the doorway with my arms crossed. Sandra gasped, and Daniel tumbled off the bed when they noticed me. Without giving him a chance to speak, I cut through the tension. "I need a divorce," I said simply, then turned and walked away.

I don't know how long I'd been wandering, aimlessly traversing the deserted park, the night sky a tapestry of uncaring stars. My legs finally gave out, and I sank onto a damp bench, the chill seeping into my bones unnoticed. Tears had become a constant companion, blurring the already indistinct world.

Then, a rustle beside me. I looked up, startled, to see Mattheo perched on the opposite end of the bench. Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, the dam broke, and the words tumbled out, a torrent of raw pain and frustration.

"He was cheating on me," I confessed, my voice hoarse. "I felt nothing for him, yet I married him anyway. How foolish can one person be?" The bitterness in my voice surprised even me. "I want to strangle him," I added, surprising myself with the dark intensity. "Why would he even marry me if he was in love with her?"

"Y/N," Mattheo said, his voice gentle, "It's not that simple. Sometimes we make choices based on what we think is right, what seems the safest path. We try to play it safe, and sometimes, we live to regret those decisions."

"But it has to stop we need to control it so what Daniel did is unforgivable," he continued, his gaze holding mine. "We've caused enough hurt. We can't keep dragging innocent people into our mess."

I nodded, wiping at the tears that streamed down my face. This wasn't about Daniel anymore. It was about the truth that hung heavy between us, the words I'd buried for years.

"I was going to choose you, Mattheo," I whispered, my voice cracking. "If you had just listened, if you hadn't…” My voice hitched, the pain raw and exposed. "If you hadn't disappeared, I would have told you that France, that any achievement wouldn't have mattered without you."

For the first time in years, I felt a sense of catharsis, a release from the burden I'd carried for so long.

"I know," Mattheo said, sadness etching lines on his face. "That's why I didn't show up. Your dream was so important, and I couldn't take that away from you."

A sob escaped my lips, not for Daniel, but for the life we could have had, the love we'd let slip through our fingers.

"But it wasn't as important as you," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

The longing in his eyes mirrored my own, a silent acknowledgment of the love that still burned beneath the ashes of time. Yet, a shadow crossed his face, a stark reminder of the reality that lay beyond this stolen moment.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice thick with regret.

"Me too," I replied, the words a bittersweet release.

"I love you, Mattheo. And it’s running my life. I'm leaving after my divorce is finalized. And this time, I'm not coming back."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a deep sadness.

"It's selfish to say," he admitted, his voice barely audible, "but you're the love of my life and that will never change,Y/N."

We sat in silence, tears falling freely now, a shared grief for what could have been and the bittersweet acceptance of the present.

Looking at my watch, I realized it was late. "You should go," I said, my voice hoarse. "Don't make her worry."

He nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. "At least," he said, his voice husky, "at least we got to say goodbye properly this time."

"Yes," I croaked, the words a bittersweet echo hanging in the air. "We did."

As he stood up, I took one last look at him, the image forever etched into my memory. Then, with a heavy heart, I watched him disappear back into the darkness, leaving me alone with the ghosts of our past. This wasn't a happy ending, but it was a closure, a bittersweet farewell to a love story that didn’t get the chance to be.

Maybe, in another life, under different circumstances, that wall wouldn't have existed. 

Maybe, in another life, our dreams wouldn't have clashed, and our paths would have intertwined. But this wasn't that life. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Fifteen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None?

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The sun was shining so brightly this morning as you walked side by side with Shanks through the local public garden. Your eyes were spared from the harsh rays by the rim of your hat, but Shanks hadn’t brought one. That hardly seemed to bother the man though, he was walking along side you, red hair illuminated and skin dusted with morning sunlight. It was unfair that all Shanks had to do to look incredible was exist.

“Something wrong?” Shanks asked, picking up on the pinched face you made for but a mere millisecond before removing it. You were good at controlling your facial expressions, but he was learning how to read you before you managed to reign in those expressions. You let out a short breath before tilting your head back to look at him without your face being blocked by the rim of your hat.

“Men have it so easy at times,” You spoke in leisurely annoyance. “All you have to do is roll about of bed and voila! You look like you’ve spent hours getting ready when in fact you’ve only just wiped the drool from your mouth.” Shanks grinned at your words and hidden pout for a few moments before looping his arm through yours.

“Come now Aria, you’ve never met Doflamingo, now there’s a guy that takes his sweet time getting ready. Mihawk spends at least an hour each day trimming his beard and moisturizing his skin, and Buggy probably spends at least half the day touching up his face paint.” Shanks reassured you. “They are far more high maintenance than you will ever be.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you barely have to put any effort in to look frustratingly handsome.” You huffed out, turning your gaze to look at some butterflies fluttering around a batch of orange butterfly weed. “Do you know how infuriating that is?”

“Apologies, treasure,” Shanks echoed, looking at your face in fondness. “How shall I remedy that?”

“Oh don’t bother, I rather like having something to look at,” You sighed dramatically, leaning into his side. He chuckled at your words, for they most definitely were an ego boost, and led you towards a particularly nice bed of flowers. You preened over the beautiful blooms, pointing at different flowers and calling out their names and meanings. “… probably spent far too much time reading books on the flower language when I will most likely never need to use that information.” You sighed.

Your companion, closely watching the emotions flicker across your face, made a mental note to buy a book on the flower language. It was clearly something you were fascinated in, but never had the chance to utilize. Shanks had vague notions on what the flower language was, but loved to hear to speak so animatedly, so he directed you towards part of the garden dedicated to tulips. A rainbow of them to be precise.

“I’ve heard something about certain colors of roses having meanings,” He spoke to you, hoping that tulips were the same for he would not subject you to the garden of roses. “Are tulips the same?” Your face brightened and you beamed at Shanks, instantly making the pirate return the smile. Just what he wanted, you smiling and happy.

“Oh! Quite so! So most flowers that have color variations have different meanings, like the purple tulip means royalty, because the color purple was one of the most expensive dyes to obtain for clothing…” You continued speaking animatedly, pointing at different beds of colorful tulips and explaining the history behind the meaning of the color and clearly enjoying yourself.

It had taken some convincing to draw you away from the gardens on Shanks’ behalf. You knew quite a bit about plants as it were and more than happy to babble away as you walked, attached to his side like you belonged there (you most certainly did in the eyes of everyone who saw you). Now led towards the market, your lips only pinched in slight distaste for what was to come because you, after all, had promised that he was allowed to buy you one present. Regretfully you hadn’t told him a Berry limit for that item. He could very well buy you a ship of your own!

At least you had a feeling that he wouldn’t do something so outrageous, but small things could be just as costly. You sighed to yourself, and leaned against Shanks’ side chiding yourself for fretting over something so silly and menial when you were supposed to be enjoying your day. Shanks eyed your partially covered face.

“Something wrong?”

“Do try to be reasonable, dear,” You replied airily and with a tone of exasperation. “I don’t need to be carting around an entire crate of baubles.”

“Right, I’ll remove the crate of baubles from my shopping list,” Shanks chuckled lightly. “Perhaps I shall focus on something more sensible… perhaps a ship or a house—”

“No, no,” You cut him off. “I will be stopping you right there, Shanks.” You gave his arm a threatening squeeze, which to him was hardly threatening and felt like a tickle to be honest. “I would rather you pick something meaningful and something I can treasure to look back upon this day in fond memory.”

“So that’s a no on the manor for sale just up the hill?” The pirate cheekily asked, grinning at the small glare he received from beneath the rim of your hat. “I’m only jesting, treasure, stop scowling at me, the manor wasn’t a terrible idea…” You snorted, having a vague memory of a similar conversation months past.

“No, it was a terrible one,” You fired back with a sly smile. “You know I can’t be bought.” He returned your smile, giving you that crooked smile of his that you loved so much.

“On the contrary, madam, you are deserving of only the best.” Shanks countered, already mulling over ideas of what he could get you in his head.

“I should have given you a Berry limit,” You half heartedly griped before turning your attention back to the stalls you and Shanks were strolling by. There were a lot of goods you liked to admire, but held no really value in buying to you, certainly when you temporarily lived on a pirate ship… yet roaming stall to stall you found great satisfaction and fulfillment walking about arm in arm.

You paused in front of a stall selling hand made scarfs and preened over the patterns found and intricate stitch work. Shanks had to blink his way through a rapid session of you and the shopkeep discussing stitch techniques and embroidery thread. He of course, had absolutely no idea what the words coming from your mouth meant, but he was more than happy to see you speaking with someone outside the crew with such an animated smile on your face.

He wanted to keep it that way.

It was a great surprise when you actually pulled out a stack of Berry and bought several spools of thread, a package of fresh needles, one embroidery hoop, and a few yards of different colored fabrics. You had a talent for mending clothing as he and the men had long since found out, but Shanks wanted to see something you made for enjoyment rather than need.

“Should I assume that I shall finally see an example of your catch stitch?” Shanks offered with a smile as you slid the cloth bag of your newly bought supplies onto your free arm. You gave the red haired man a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not hemming. This is for embroidery.” You corrected him. Shanks laughed, lips twitching at the corner. “If you want an example just look at Limejuice’s new pants. I hemmed them last week.”

“Forgive me for not know the difference between embroidery and hemming.”

“You are forgiven, my love,” You flippantly replied, dragging Shanks to the next stall to fuss over tea blends currently on display. As airily as you had spoken those words, certainly with a touch of matched sarcasm, Shanks couldn’t help but bask in your spoken words like a lovesick fool. To have you this unguarded and playful was a privilege itself! While Shanks gazed unabashedly down at your partially covered face, you let your eyes wander the market.

It was entirely coincidental, but what caught your gaze was the jewelers stall with its glimmering stones and metal. You unconsciously pulled Shanks in that direction, your eyes brightening at the sight of beautiful rubies sparkling beneath the sun. Now you weren’t interested in any more ruby necklaces, you treasured the one that currently hung around your neck most dearly… but you had been on the lookout for a pair of earrings.

Earrings weren’t exactly on your top list of concerns while at sea, but you were interested in maintaining your pierced ears and still wished to hold at least the bare minimum in clothing and jewelry. One never knew when the need might arise to dress formally. You also really liked the way the sunlight illuminated gemstones so beautifully. Especially the rubies. The fire that burned in the little jewels warmed your heart and reminded you of the very man at your side.

“This is the last place I expected you to stop at,” Shanks chuckled in amusement, watching you carefully eye the different shaped earrings on display.

“A fair assumption,” You murmured, eyes sliding between studded earrings and dangling ones. “I’ve come to decide that with a necklace as beautiful as the one currently hanging around my neck, I should have a pair of earrings to match as well.”

“Welcome madam, sir,” The jeweler greeted, “I hear you are interested in acquiring a pair of earrings?”

“Yes we are,” Shanks replied, moving his hand to your back to prompt you. “Aria?”

“I am looking for a pair of ruby drop earrings that match the one I am wearing,” You spoke, touching the warm ruby hanging from your throat. “Something casual but would still be appropriate in a formal setting.” The jeweler nodded in understand and thought for a few moments, studying the ruby you wore.

It was of the highest quality and clarity, clearly a triple A, the cut was oval, 58 cuts, and the metal used just as high quality. He hummed to himself and reached down beneath his stall to take the case of ruby earrings with his best rubies. Placing it on the counter, the jeweler shuffled a few earrings around until what you had requested was front and center.

“Perhaps one of these may catch your eye?” Oh they most certainly did, but you also felt a bit overwhelmed. Certainly given the fact that you had never been allowed to select your own jewelry. Picking something out would prove to be quite difficult, especially when you didn’t know what looked good on your or not. You turned your head to look at Shanks.

“May I borrow your eyes?” Shanks’ eyes glimmered with mirth and his eyebrow rose, a tease poised on his tongue.

“I don’t know how much use you will get out of my eyes, madam, when you have perfectly working ones but if you insist…” You let out a short huff, smacked his chest with your hand, and rolled your own.

“You are well aware of what I mean, Shanks, take that smirk off your face and help.” You chastised half heartedly before taking a closer look at the earrings. Chuckling for a for few more moments, Shanks turned his gaze from your lovely face to the ruby earrings. The rubies did indeed match the one hanging around your neck. It all came down to the design. While you would look incredible in any design, even the ostentatious ones, you had a dislike for the frivolous and wanted something that could be used for many different purposes. He found a pair that would look quite nice with your necklace and took one to hold up to your ear.

“What about this one?” He asked, admiring how you looked with the ruby near your ear. “I think you look radiant, what do you think?”

“Well that is the problem,” You sighed, looking yourself in the mirror the jeweler held up. “I’ve never chosen my own jewelry so I don’t know what I like or dislike.”

“Just pick something you like on you, that’s all that matters, Aria.” Shanks replied, switching out the earring for the next one. Holding it up, he nodded to the mirror. You looked to the mirror and chewed on your lip. It looked nice, but perhaps wasn’t quite your style? Between the jeweler and Shanks, you narrowed the earrings down to a pair that your eyes kept going back to. The pattern on the metal matched your necklace and the ruby really did look nice with the one you already owned. “There, see? Wasn’t so hard.”

“Not hard?” You huffed, raising your eyebrow and giving Shanks an unimpressed look. “Dear, you have no idea how many tea parties I have attended whose soul purpose is to gossip over jewelry faux pas’.” Shanks’ eyebrows shot up and he left out a laugh.

“Oh I don’t doubt that, but you aren’t exactly surrounded by that type vanity, Aria?” He reminded you, taking one of the earrings and carefully slipping into your ear. With the earring hanging from your ear and catching the sparkling sun, he tapped your chin and stepped back to see the earring and necklace at the same time. You eyed him and took the remaining earring, sliding it into your other ear before turning to face Shanks with your hands on your hips.

“Very well, ignoring any faux pas’ I might be committing at the present, how does it look?” As you finished asking that question, your stomach decided to let out a rumble in protest. Late afternoon hunger was making its presence known. Your face flushed in embarrassment. “You didn’t hear that.”

Shanks laughed at your words while his smile widened.

“I think it’s time that I feed the madam, we have been wandering the market for quite awhile.” He said, turning to the jeweler and puling out Berry to cover the earrings. “Thank you for the earrings.”

“The madam makes the earrings, it is my pleasure to see my work upon such a beautiful woman.” The jeweler answered with a slight bow of his head. You let the red haired man pay for the earrings, keeping the promise you had made that he was allowed to buy you one thing from the market. As you took Shanks’ arm again and you began walking towards the town square filled with food stalls, you remembered that your stomach had distracted you from receiving an answer regarding how the earrings looked. You liked them, but did Shanks?

“So, how do they look?” You asked as you both turned down a street leading to the market square overlooking the harbor. The setting sun was still quite high in the sky, but the rays of sunlight that broke through the clouds illuminated you. Shanks paused and turned towards you, he then reached up and pushed your hat back until the strings caught around your neck. Now he could see your face fully. The light breeze ruffled your hair and your new earrings swayed, catching the light in a vibrant red.

“You are beautiful,” Shanks spoke, his eyes crinkling at the corners and lips curved. Your eyelashes fluttered for a moment as you slowly took in his genuine words. Your forehead furrowed and the red head began tugging you in the direction of the market square again.

“You didn’t answer my question though, Shanks!” You protested weakly, hastening your footsteps to catch up to his side. He still didn’t answer your question, just smiled. “Shanks!”

Date Published: 5/1/24

Last Edit: 5/1/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[zepskies]

Hey, Zep! Any advice on writing a good kiss scene? (Totally not for upcoming chapters or fanfics or whatever and I’m procrastinating and possibly hyperventilating-)

But yeah. Any tips and/or tricks?

Hey there!

Oooh, what a great question. 😉 (Aww, don't worry, this is the fun part! lol ❤️)

So when it comes to any kind of romance scene, it has to do with the buildup. Where is the couple at this point? Is it desperation, longing and yearning, hurt/comfort, pure fluff and sweetness, raw, dirty, gritty desire, or a combination of these things?

And when they come together for that moment, is there a bit of hesitation, or even fear -- the idea that once they do this, there's no going back to the way it was before? Is the kiss tentative and sweet, chaste at first, or hungry and devouring from the onset?

Anticipation is also a big part of the first kiss especially. It's the culmination of a "will they, won't they," and it's a cathartic moment for a romance.

A kiss can start out small, just a meeting of lips. It can lead to more, as passion builds. You want to think of what emotions are driving each of them -- what defines their connection and chemistry, and this need to be together physically.

Word choice here can also be very important in how to convey passion, because again, "passion" can be expressed in different ways. To help figure this out, I try to visualize a scene in my head like a movie, down to the:

Setting: Are they out in the open? Is there the threat of getting caught? Are they in the privacy of a bedroom, in the kitchen, couch, potentially knocking things about? lol

Character "Blocking": The characters' physical movements in the scene, like the placement of hands, head tilting, movements of lips, teeth, tongue, bodies pressing, hand brushing the cheek, holding the hips or waist, hands cradling/caressing their partner’s face, hands slipping under layers of clothing, fingers tangling in the hair, gripping, pulling, or soothing, etc.). And of course, where on the body their partner is kissing, if they migrate from the lips after a while. 😏

Internal Thoughts: "God, should we really be doing this?" vs. "Freakin' finally," etc. 😂

Dialogue: Potentially breaks up the "action." Quipping remarks, teasing, heartfelt romantic words, sexy/dirty talk, etc. But sometimes there's no time for words, if you catch my drift. 😉

The Emotions: The key to what's driving each of them throughout the scene.

Taking these into account (in my experience) can help you create a unique romantic scene. ❤️❤️

Thanks for the question, lovely. Let me know if this helps! 🫡

[pupyr0arz]

Reader confronts stalker Gaz

Kyle plans your conversations. He keeps scripts, and the ones about you are his favorite. They keep him company, what he thinks you might do and say and how you’d smile at him gently soothing him out on missions. He could probably talk about your life, up to marriage and maybe kids, for hours.

What he doesn’t have a script for is you sitting down right besides him at the bar with that expression on your face. Kyle knows he’s been caught out the second you pull out the stool, you’re a creature of habit and you never sit this close to the middle of the bar. It’s Friday night, the night you like to come and have a few cocktails before retiring to your home, and Kyle’s new favorite day of the week. Alcohol shows sides of people hidden to everyone under the sun, and ever since you got those tacky, ugly blinds Kyle has been aching for some vulnerability. Something he can pretend is privately shared between the two of you, shine and clutch close without having to grapple with the guilt of intruding, stepping too far away from what can be waived off.

Maybe it’s the lack of you, the sudden deprivement of something hes quickly coming to cherish as much as the blood in his veins, that makes him sloppy. You’re not as neat as you usually are, messy shirt under a jacket, boot laces untied. Your face is cast in shadow and dim lights, and all Kyle can manage to think about as his eyes trace the agitated crease of your brow is that you look like something that belongs in a museum.

“Who,” you hiss, speaking lowly in tight, furious syllables, “the hell are you?”

It’s said in anger, but the words are for him and that sends a little thrill through him. Kyle cherishes each part of you you give him, like anyone who deserves you should.

Kyle, sweetheart. Your secret admirer. No one special. Your soulmate.

“I’m sorry?” He coughs politely, feigning confusion. Kyle leans awayl trying to sell the image of someone being wary of an angry looking drunk stranger, but he’s already mourning the proximity.

“I know you’ve been following me, asshole.” You don’t let him, half standing to shove your face into his, and he’s more pleased than he should be, but your hands are curling into a fist and you smell like alcohol. “I’ve seen you.”

Shit. Now he couldn’t deny it fully. You couldn’t have had more than a glass, were you drinking at home? The drapes must’ve been deliberate, you trying to cut him out of your life. It sends a pang of hurt in his chest—why do you withdraw so suddenly now? It seems like everything about the world demands him to tug you closer, and now you’re running away?

Kyle averts his eyes, lifting a hand in a placating manner. “I have a generic face.” He lies guilelessly, ignoring how you practically breathe smoke at the deflection. Your rage is incandescent, and as much as Kyle loves to stare into the face of your emotions, he isn’t willing to have you get spooked enough to try anything extreme.

Though, with the way you’re cocking your fist back, you’ve got a different idea in mind. Kyle isn’t too mad at you, he’s happy you’re not that scared of him and he likes the idea of you defending yourself if an actual creep ever showed up. He can work with this, though, and he turns into the blow, taking it poorly on purpose.

It’s not exactly how he wanted to get your number, but he’s willing to take anything he can get.

[selectivechaos]

about love-bombing

i know it's been a while, and i'm still too busy and tired to fully sort out this blog. but i wanted to talk about love-bombing, because i didn't know what it was until it happened.

the basic concept of love-bombing is simple: a kind of intense affection and adoration is expressed to a person constantly and immediately. this may or may not be coupled with periods of emotional coldness, or ignoring the person. either way, it is a manipulation tactic. the person who love-bombs may genuinely feel this way, i don't know, i'm not a psychologist, but the reality is that the way they express and act on their feelings is not ok. it is harmful. 🌹🌹

love-bombing doesn't have to be constant. love-bombing doesn't have to be coupled with periods of coldness to be manipulation. love-bombing is where they place you on a pedestal, giving more compliments than you can take. it is so easy to dismiss and invalidate the harm this does, when it happens to someone else, or when it happens to you. but if you do dismiss it, you are just keeping yourself or whomever is being love-bombed, in that situation. and that can be harmful.

love-bombing is not just 'he can't take a compliment'

love-bombing is not just 'unrequited love'

you don't have to know exactly what they wanted from you in order to know that it was manipulation

love-bombing makes you feel anxious

love-bombing does not give you time to sort out your own feelings and wants.

it is intense, and it demands all of your time.

it demands extreme emotional labour to accept that amount of emotional shrapnel.

it does not mean something is wrong with you if you can't handle it.

it is not that you 'weren't ready for a relationship'

it is not that you 'were too cold or unloving'

it means that you didn't deserve to be treated like an object to adore and admire. love-bombers don't take into consideration how you feel about their affections and their excessive communication. they don't respect your time or feelings. they love an idea of you. and they're hurting you. 🌹🌹

below are some explanations of how it feels and how to know:

[ID: First image is entitled: 13 signs of love bombing. By Sara Kuburic, CCC; @millennial. therapist. Text reads: “They make grand romantic gestures/give extravagant gifts. They always compliment you. They promote excessive communication. They request constant attention. They demand commitment. They resist your boundaries. They make 'soul mate' claims. They say 'I love you' very quickly. They are good at saying what you want to hear. They feel "too good to be true". They make you feel like you're being saved. They make immediate promises about the future. They put you on a pedestal.”

Second image is entitled: Love Bombing Signs. By Choosinf Therapy. Text reads: “1. Wanting to know everything about you right away. 2. Sharing their personal details too quickly. 3. Needing constant validation. 4. Intense declarations of love. 5. Pressuring you to commit. 6. Saying all the "right things". 7. Intense clinginess. 8. Over-the-top, expensive gifts. 9. Immense jealousy when you're with anyone else. 10. Things just feel "off". 11. Sudden coldness or withdrawal.

Third image is entitled codependent versus healthy love. From Conquering Shame and Codependency’ by Darlene Lancer 2014. www.whatiscodependency.com. Text reads: For codependency: “Intense attraction - feel anxiety. Idealize, and ignore differences Fall in love - make commitments. Get to know each other. Become disappointed. Cling to romantic fantasy of love. Try to change partner into ideal. Feel resentful and unloved.” Whereas for healthy love: Friendship begins - feel comfortable. Get to know each other. Accept differences (or leave). Grow to love each other. Make commitments. Love and acceptance deepens. Learn from each other's differences. Feel supported and loved.” /End ID]

🌹🌹🌹.

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[sovonight]

i was back on track to finish my soa playthrough for a while there--but then i reached xan's we-survived-bodhi celebration scene

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok Things

[yeonban]

I'm actually obsessed with this tiny little detail actually. Soma's visible eye is always showing the expression people NEED/WANT to see, whereas his hidden eye (which is very interestingly right under the crescent moon symbol in his hair) is always showing his REAL feelings

[jessicalprice]

how can you be so controversial and yet so brave

(reposted from Twitter)

Hey so, have I ever told you about the time I was at an interfaith event (my rabbi, who was on the panel, didn't want to be the only Jew there), and there was a panel with representatives of 7 different traditions, from Baha'i to Zoroastrian?

The setup was each panelist got asked the same question by the moderator, had 3 minutes to respond, and then they moved on to the next panelist.

The Christian dude talked for 8 minutes and kept waving off the poor, flustered, terminally polite Unitarian moderator.

The next panelist was a Hindu lady, who just said drily, "I'll try to keep my answer to under a minute so everyone else still has a chance to answer." (I, incidentally, am at a table with I think the only other non-Christian audience members, a handful of Muslims and a Zorastrian.)

So then we get to the audience questions part. No one's asking any questions, so finally I decide to get things rolling, and raise my hand and the very polite moderator comes over and gives me the mic.

I briefly explain Stendahl's concept of "holy envy" and ask what each of theirs is.

(If you're not familiar, Stendahl had 3 tenets for learning about other traditions, and one was leave room for "holy envy," being able to say, I am happy in my tradition and don't desire to convert, but this is something about another tradition that I admire and wish we had.)

The answers were lovely. My rabbi said she admired the Buddhist comfort with silence and wished we could learn to have that spaciousness in our practice. The Hindu said she admired the Jewish and Muslim commitment to social justice & changing, rather than accepting, the status quo.

The Christian dude said he envied that everyone else on the panel had the opportunity to newly accept Jesus.

I shit you not.

Dead silence. The Buddhist and Baha'i panelists are resolutely holding poker faces. The Hindu lady has placed her hands on the table and folded them and seems to be holding them very tightly. Over on the middle eastern end of the table, the rabbi, the imam, and the Zoroastrian lady are all leaning away from the Christian at identical angles with identical expressions of disgust. The terminally polite Unitarian moderator is literally wringing his hands in distress.

A Christian lady at the table next to me, somehow unable to pick up on the emotional currents in the room, sighs happily and says to her fellow church lady, "What a beautiful answer."

anyway I love my rabbi to death and would do anything for her

except attend another interfaith event

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[sirenscriptures]

princess treatment - mw2 men

✧ synopsis: men who secretly (or not so secretly) live for treating you like royalty. even in the most mundane or difficult of times, you are their personal sanctuary.

۶♡ৎ featuring: johnny “soap” mactavish, simon “ghost” riley, captain john price, alejandro vargas, and könig.

before you read: female reader, sub reader, lots and lots of body worship, praise, soft sex, a little dacryphilia if u squint, breeding, cockwarming, cunnilingus, hair pulling, fingering, mirror sex, use of pet/endearment names.

۶♡ৎ johnny “soap” mactavish ۶♡ৎ

✧ if there’s a man who is never ashamed to spoil you in any way he can, it’s johnny. ever since you two made it official he was all over the idea of showing you off and spoiling you to no end.

✧ outside of combat and missions, you can bet he dedicates so much of his time to you–his sweet girl.

✧ god help you if he comes home from a longer mission. you will not be able to pry him away from you for days. it’s not like you mind at all, though. his kisses are everything you wanted, so weighted and passionate, and he’s not even fully through the threshold of the front door when he first sees you again.

✧ his hands are already nestled in your hair, pressing your back against the wall as his tongue slips into your mouth. with his warm breath tickling your mouth, you can’t help but let out one of the sweetest whimpers he’s ever heard. god, it never fully occurred to him how much he loved to make you whine for him.

✧ “oh banphrionsa…” he murmurs, lips moving down to your sensitive neck. “i missed you.”

✧ “i missed you, too…” you stammer out feebly, the heat rising within your cheeks. your already flustered expression sparks a familiar fire within him as he moves you into his arms, carrying you towards your shared bedroom.

✧ it doesn’t take much to get you both out of your clothes, yet johnny still can’t get over how good you look. every time he gets to see you like this, it doesn’t matter how many times, he still gets so excited over it.

✧ “shit, baby…” he murmurs, peppering kisses on your upper body as he climbs on top of you. “you make me so crazy, y’know that?”

✧ nodding, you can’t help but give him that flirty smile that he loves so much. his lips crash onto yours again, tongue relishing the taste of your mouth. meanwhile, his hands are admiring your bare body as if you’re a rare jewel.

✧ even when just kissing you, it’s clear soap adores you in every way possible. it’s evident in the way he touches, kisses, and fucks you. he never wastes a single moment with you, and is always making sure you know just how special you are.

✧ even in between thrusts, his hands and words always ensure you’re reminded that you’re his special girl—his princess. the feeling of him stretching out your walls as he continually praises you is enough to draw you to tears—from both overstimulation and emotion.

✧ when he can tell you’re close to an orgasm, he pulls you closer into him even more, thrusts going deeper and deeper each moment. “i love you so much, sweetheart.” he groans, seed sputtering inside of you as your back arches against his chest, the sweetest moans flowing from your lips as you finish along with him.

۶♡ৎ simon “ghost” riley ۶♡ৎ

✧ for someone so reserved as simon, it was no surprise how much he valued your time alone together.

✧ in the past, he really preferred to be by himself when he had the time to spare. he always felt most himself when he wasn’t around too many people. but over time, it became natural that you were with him in these moments that brought him great peace.

✧ but past all things missions and duty, he deeply cherished when he got to be home alone with you. that way, he felt completely devoted to treating you the way you always deserved: like royalty.

✧ well, his version of royalty in this sense was a bit different than the conventional meaning of the term. but, in true simon fashion, it was quite fitting. and plus, he knew you loved it.

✧ the way he held you so perfectly in front of the mirror, hands caressing your body as his cock plunged in and out of you, he made sure you felt within every inch that you were all his.

✧ with your walls fluttering around him, you made it so much harder for him to hold back. simon knew you felt the same, the way your breaths depleted to mere shudders, your eyes glazing over with the faintest hint of tears.

✧ gently, his hand cupped under your chin, making you stare at your delicate frame against his broad chest. “now, now, sweet girl…” he purrs, breath tingling on your neck.

✧ “i can’t have you breaking on me now, can i?” his slightly raspy tone is loving, yet teasing you at the same time as a calloused thumb swipes away a tear streaking down your cheek. simon has always hated seeing you cry, but when he can make you cry from pure pleasure, you can bet that makes him feel on top of the world.

✧ “i need you to see how pretty you are, love.” you don’t even have to see his full face to feel his smirk against you. not even his full coverage mask could hide that from you on his best day.

✧ there is a sense of pride in his gaze as he looks at you through your reflection. with his hand under your chin, your expression is absolutely priceless. your glassed-over, desperate eyes practically plead for more, and your kiss-swollen lips are still as irresistible as ever. he can’t hide how proud he is that he’s made a mess of you–his sweet girl.

✧ “there you are, princess.” he teases, watching you stare at yourself in a daze. his thrusts are slow in and out of you as a free hand rubs and pinches at your nipples. your head falls back onto his shoulder, another broken moan falling from your agape mouth. simon feels you clenching around him again, the feeling earning a growl from him.

✧ but still, his thrusts remain tender and slow, ensuring you feel every part of him. as much as he’d love to ravage you with rough, fast thrusts, he loves your reactions to his deep, slow pace far too much in this moment. plus, this was all about your pleasure.

✧ it isn’t long before his warm seed is ribboning inside you, eventually dribbling down your quivering thighs as your orgasm joins with his own. your noises are so sweet, something he can never get enough of. and the look of you is enough to make him fall in love with you thousands of times over.

✧ he smiles at you, lips colliding messily with yours, admiring how warm your face is as he holds you. “you did so well for me,” he murmurs, breathing in your comforting scent. “my pretty girl.”

۶♡ৎ john price ۶♡ৎ

✧ believe it or not, captain price could be quite the romantic type. though, as a man with such a stoic position as a captain, that side never got much of a chance to reveal itself. unless, of course, he was alone with his favorite woman in the world…

✧ getting to see him in such a rare position felt so special to you. he was so sweet and gentle with you, it always found a way to make you swoon. and you bet price adored having that effect over you.

✧ the fact his mere touch could make you melt beneath him was enthralling, and definitely made him want more. of course, what better way to do that than to spoil you, right? after all, that was his favorite thing to do when he had his time with you.

✧ but it was his absolute favorite when he could be in between your legs, and he could stay there for hours. the feeling of you squirming beneath him had so many ways of making him feral for you, and he knew you loved it when he got to that point.

✧ while his tongue swirled over your sensitive clit, he could feel your hips bucking into his face ever so slightly, your noises growing louder each moment. you could hardly contain yourself any longer, and price adored every second of it.

✧ every few minutes, he would lay sweet kisses over your folds, fingers teasing your entrance from time to time. “sweetheart, you have no idea the things you do to me…” he breathes out, suckling at the sensitive bud again.

✧ your back starts to arch at his words, hands gripping tightly at the sheets. price lets out a satisfied chuckle as his fingers finally push inside your wetness. the feeling of your walls is just as he expects: heavenly. you’re so warm and welcoming to his fingers, it's almost hard for him not to push himself into you as a whole right then and there.

✧ “close already, yeah?” he teases, mouth still working at you, his fingers doing the same. the look in your eye confirms that for him, making his blood rush with excitement as your bottom lip hooks beneath your teeth.

✧ he smirks at you from between your legs. “well, allow me to help with that, angel.” price let his fingers curl inside of you towards your sweet spot, earning a strangled cry from you, your back arching even more.

✧ as his tongue slithered about your wetness, he marveled at the way you tightened around his fingers, especially when you released yourself. you sounded so sweet, and he couldn’t deny he wanted more of that from you.

✧ his lips finally met with yours, pulling your body close to his again. though, he was nowhere near done with you, he knew he wanted to admire you in this pleasure-filled haze just a bit more…

۶♡ৎ alejandro vargas ۶♡ৎ

✧ despite his roughened, at times crass exterior, alejandro had no problem showing his soft, vulnerable side to you and only you. he seldom ever let that gentle side slip outwards in front of just anybody, so you considered yourself lucky to have grown this close to him.

✧ besides, nothing could ever beat having those hypnotic dark eyes and that charming smile of his directed at you, and only you.

✧ but there was something about that certain…look you gave him in these moments that filled him with an endless desire to please you and spoil your body in so many different ways. it was that sweet, almost innocent look with a small lip bite that could make him fold you over in a matter of seconds.

✧ one thing about alejandro is that he preferred when he could take his time with you. he was the last one who wanted a quickie or something short. if he was going to pleasure his love, he was going to make sure you felt it.

✧ so when he has you sprawled out on the bed, cockwarming him as he caresses every inch of you, he can’t help but tease you just a bit from time to time. your whole body responds to him so perfectly, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. can you really blame him?

✧ “ale…” you mewl out shakily, the feeling of his lips on your neck nearly pushing you over the edge. he smirks at you, hands continuing to massage your breasts. “hmm?” he hums against your skin, still leaving pretty marks all over you.

✧ you can barely even form words in this state. “mmmh, need you…” you stagger, breath hitching as his tongue starts to swirl around your protruding nipple.

✧ “you need to use your words, mi vida.” he presses a kiss to your neck again, taking you by the chin gently so he can stare at you properly. “what do you need from me?”

✧ alejandro’s gaze is soft yet still commanding, easily sending a shiver down your back. you take a breath, cupping his face in your hand. “i…need you to fuck me, please.” you manage, that sweet look that drove him feral still in your eyes.

✧ his lips press messily against you, a hand wrapping around your neck now. “que educada, princesa.” he chuckles, admiring how you tremble beneath him as he starts to move.

✧ his growls only add to your pleasure as he pushes deep inside you, your walls responding with a warm clench, making his grip on your hips tighter. you can feel your orgasm growing closer, moans growing shaky and incoherent.

✧ listening to his name fall so shattered from your lips pushed him over the edge, cum spilling into you as he watched in awe as your legs trembled and you clenched around him a final time.

✧ between warm, breathless kisses, he smiles at you again. “you’re so good to me, amor.” he says, pulling you close to his chest.

۶♡ৎ könig ۶♡ৎ

✧ in all honesty, könig has no idea how he got so lucky to have you. you were everything and more he could’ve ever asked for in a woman.

✧ even though he was far from inexperienced in the world of relationships and intimacy, you had a way of making him feel like it was the first time in every moment he got to spend with you.

✧ but some of his favorite moments came from when he got to spoil you. it didn’t matter if it was taking a lazy day where you stayed home or in bed for hours in the late morning, or if he was taking you out to one of your favorite places, as long as he was in your company, he was more than content.

✧ but if he had to pick an absolute favorite pastime with you… it had to be when he was able to worship you from head to toe.

✧ there was something so enthralling for both of you, having such a large man, in nothing but his boxers, on his knees in front of you, kissing every single inch of you as you sat on the bed, staring down in admiration.

✧ könig’s gentle expression as he looks up at you still has the power to give you butterflies even after being together for so long. the closer his mouth gets to the fabric of your underwear, he gives you a look until you eventually nod, making his lips spread into a smile.

✧ peeling the fabric to the side, his tongue swirls over your wetness. your back arches in response, head falling back as you let a moan escape. hearing you in this state drives him even further, pulling you by your hips against his face.

✧ even when you’re trembling, he continues. your moans have broken down to shaky sobs as he tonguefucks you, his growls vibrating against you. he can’t get enough of your taste, even when you’ve already come for him.

✧ eventually, he pulls away, licking his lips before kissing a trail up your stomach. his eyes stare into yours lovingly, fingers running through your hair.

✧ “you did so well, meine liebe.” he praises, kissing your neck before smirking. “but i’m nowhere near done with you.”

“banphrionsa” = princess, “mi vida” = my life, “que educada, princesa.” = how polite, princess. “meine liebe” = my love.

written by sirenscriptures. do not repost on any other website. do not translate, copy, or use.

[thecatspasta]

Inspired by @arrgh-whatever's post on helping ppl with BPD

Edit bc I forgot to add this: Being vulnerable means smth different for different ppl, something that could read as being vulnerable to you can read as just another Tuesday for someone else

[ID: a simply-drawn comic, narrated by a person coloured-in in pink.

Panel 1: The pink person narrates: "So there's a lot of "signs your ex is a narcissist and how to deal with them" and it's not very accurate. So here's how to actually "deal" with a narcissist from someone with narcissistic personality disorder."

Panel 2: This panel has the heading: "1. Supply." The pink person narrates: "People with NPD have very fragile self-esteem, and supply is what keeps us from having a mental breakdown. Supply can be many things, but often attention and praise are effective. Stuff like "Wow! That's super cool!!" can go a long way." A person is shown saying this to another person, who smiles.

Panel 3: This panel has the heading: "2. Criticism." The pink person narrates: "Oh boy. So narcissists take things as personal very easily. It's because if anyone contradicts our delusions that we have built our entire self-image on, it feels like you are attacking us as a person." There is an example shown, where one person says "hey, you were a bit too rude back there," but the other person hears "You're an awful dick no-one likes." The alternative manner of phrasing is suggested as "Hey, you were a bit too rude. You're cool, but some people took it poorly." The second person in this example thinks "I'm still a cool person. It's not my fault, but I can do things to be better." The narrator continues, "We don't really understand the concept of a harmless mistake."

Panel 4: This panel has the heading: "3. Boundaries." The pink person narrates: "With narcissists, setting down strict boundaries is very important. 1. Knowing we have hurt you because you didn't set down boundaries can really upset and annoy us because the delusions that we can do no wrong and know you best get broken. 2. If you let us break boundaries, it can lead us to see you as "weak" and devalue you. Communication is key."

Panel 5: This panel has the heading: "4. Anger." The pink person narrates: "So people with NPD tend to be prone to anger. This is a defense mechanism, because to us, it's either facing the inaccuracies of our delusions and having a mental breakdown, or blaming something else. We do not mean to lash out; we just don't have the skills to cope properly. You can help by: 1. Letting us express out emotions without judgement; 2. giving us praise or attention; and 3. Distracting us from what angered us." Each example of how to help is accompanied by a small cartoon.

Panel 6: This panel has the heading: "5. Other NPD things!" The pink person narrates: "'Love bomb, devalue, discard' is actually: we are genuinely obsessed with you and want you to recognize us as cool, we lose that obsession and move on, we feel threatened in some way and lash out. We can't really handle being seen as vulnerable. We take sympathy and empathy as pity and pity as you telling us we're weak. Not acknowledging we're being vulnerable and acting as if nothing is wrong can be helpful in these situations. People with NPD have a very warped view of reality. We do not mean to hurt you and often do not realise we have. Remember, this won't work for everyone, and talking is very important."

/end ID]

Ty to @aromanticsky for the id

[sugarsprinklesoul]

12 lessons women learn late in life

• Self-acceptance: Understanding and embracing oneself, including imperfections and past mistakes, leads to greater self-acceptance and self-love.

• Setting boundaries: Realizing the importance of setting healthy boundaries in personal and professional relationships, and learning to say "no" without feeling guilty.

• Prioritizing their needs: Recognizing the significance of self-care and prioritizing their physical and emotional well-being.

• Embracing aging: Accepting the natural process of aging and finding beauty and wisdom in each stage of life.

• Letting go of perfection: Understanding that perfection is unattainable and that it's okay to make mistakes and learn from them.

• Emotional intelligence: Developing better emotional intelligence and learning how to navigate and express emotions effectively.

• Value of female friendships: Appreciating the unique bonds and support that can be found in female friendships.

• Financial independence: Recognizing the importance of financial knowledge and independence, regardless of relationship status.

• Life is not a race: Understanding that life's journey is unique to each individual, and it's okay to take different paths and timelines.

• Resilience: Learning from past challenges and developing resilience to bounce back from setbacks.

• Reevaluating priorities: Reflecting on what truly matters in life and refocusing energy and time on what brings fulfillment and happiness.

• Living in the present: Letting go of regrets about the past and worries about the future, and embracing the present moment.