#might have gotten a bit sentimental here...

[urloveada]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 || 𝐣𝐨𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠💌™

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: joe goldberg x f!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.9k+

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: smut, p in v, edging, swearing, vibrator, ‘you belong to me’ vibes, dom/sub undertones; dom!joe, sub!reader. MDNI

𝓷/𝓪: not beta read, i apologize for any errors!! || my new bsf (🤫) has been dying for this fic; i really hope you enjoy!!

╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist || navigation

You and Joe finally decided to go out on a date. You’ve both been so busy with work lately you haven’t gotten to spend much time together. Joe’s working full time; you're working part time, but unfortunately your schedules barely line up.

 

It was Joe’s idea to come to this restaurant; this was where you met. So, it’s quite sentimental to the both of you. which is a big reason why your boyfriend is eyeing you angrily as you flirt with the young waiter.

 

Now in your defence, you didn’t mean for the flirting to start; it just happened. He came to take your order but could not keep his eyes off you. Of course Joe noticed; he notices everything, especially when it comes to you. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joe clench his jaw in frustration, maybe even jealousy. So that’s when you decided to play along, for as long as Joe would let you, that is.

 

“Okay, your food will be ready in a few minutes. It might take a bit longer since we’re currently low staff.” The young waiter, whose name you learned is Elliot, tells you apologetically.

 

“It’s okay, baby; we aren’t in a rush,” you tell him kindly before he walks away, making sure you emphasize the word 'baby.'

 

Joe stares at you silently, trying to collect his thoughts before he speaks. “What are you doing?” The warning was clear: don’t do it again or you won’t like the consequences.

 

You stay silent, looking innocently at him, until he raises his eyebrows, indicating he’s expecting an answer.

 

“I’m just being polite; is that a problem?” You sass, crossing your arms over your chest.

 

“Oh, you do NOT get to flirt with the waiter than sass me. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Joe asks sternly, keeping eye contact with you as you try looking away.

 

“Oh my, God, Joe. It’s not that big of a deal. Why are you being such a—“

 

“Okay, we have one order of the grilled chicken, with salad on the side,” Elliot cuts you off, bringing your food over, “and one order of steak and baked potatoes.” He slides Joe his dinner.

 

“Can I get you anything else? a refill on your drinks maybe?” Elliot offers the both of you. Joe notices Elliot’s hand slightly brushing against your shoulder but doesn’t comment on it.

 

Joe shakes his head no.

 

“No thanks, darling,” you say, smiling at Elliott as he walks away to take other orders.

 

Joe is now looking at you furiously. “This is your last warning. Do it again, and we’re leaving; do you understand me?” Joe demands, grabbing your chin so you’re making eye contact.

 

You nod your head, but roll your eyes while trying to wriggle out of his grip.

 

“uh, uh. eyes up here. I said, Do you understand me?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” you nod your head. “I understand.”

 

Joe releases his grip and nods his head. “Now eat, please.”

 

_________

 

You and Joe eat your dinner peacefully, finally having the evening together Joe wanted. You are so close to finishing your meal without anymore distractions until Elliott comes over one last time to check on you.

 

“Is everything alright?” Elliot asks, sounding like he genuinely cares how your meal is.

 

“It was delicious, thank you,” you reply, setting the fork down and looking up at Elliot. “Wasn’t it good, Joe?" You turn to look at your boyfriend.

 

“Yes, it was. Thank you,” he says politely, despite how annoyed he is with Elliot.

 

“I’m glad to hear that!” Elliot replies happily, “Would you like me to get the bill now?” He asks, collecting your empty plates and utensils.

 

“Yes, love, that sounds wonderful,” you respond with the same level of enthusiasm.

 

Elliot leaves to get the bill, and you look over at Joe, not expecting to see him so angry.

 

“I have told you several times to knock it off. I am sick of you disrespecting me,” Joe says sternly.

 

He leans forward to whisper this last part so only you can hear.

 

“When we get home, you are being punished. I do not care how much you don’t want it; you will be punished for your actions, and that is final. Do you understand?”

 

You look at Joe bewildered. Sure, you wanted to push his buttons; angry sex is the best, is it not? but a punishment? That was something you didn’t expect.

 

"Yes, sir,” you respond sheepishly, “understood.”

 

_________

 

The drive home is silent, not even the sound of the radio going. You knew you were going to be in trouble, but not this much trouble.

 

I mean, really? a punishment?  

That’s not necessary. Of course you’d never say this to Joe; he would not approve of this mindset.

 

when you finally arrive home and Joe parks the car in the driveway. There’s a moment or two of silence while he tries collecting his thoughts.

 

He turns to you and grabs your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look him in the eyes when he talks to you.

“When you go inside, I want you to strip completely and wait for me on the bed. I will be inside in a few minutes. Go.”

 

Joe releases his grip, and you scramble out of the car and inside the house, shutting the door behind you. You run up the stairs and go to your shared bedroom.

 

You strip off your clothes, put them in the laundry basket, and wait on the bed as Joe instructed.

 

You heard Joe walking up the stairs a few minutes after you sat down. He wasn’t stomping, which was a good sign.

 

Joe opened the door and looked to the bed, making sure you listened. “Finally learned how to listen, hm?” He teased, walking over to the bed to stand above you.

 

“Go get the vibrator,” Joe says sternly, pointing to the nightstand on the opposite side of you.

 

“Joe, please no,” you plead, making zero effort to do as you’re told.

 

“Now.”

 

You sigh and climb across the bed. opening the drawer aggressively and grabbing the vibrator. Sliding across the bed you had it to Joe, and once again start pleading.

 

“please, please! dont. I’ll be good, Joe.” You give him your best puppy eyes. “So good, I promise.”

 

His eyes soften slightly, and he rubs his thumb across your lips before leaning in and softly kissing them.

 

He pulls back and admires you for a moment before saying, “Lay down, on your back, spread your legs.”

 

You whine but obey him wordlessly, trying your best to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen.

 

“Good girl,” Joe turns on the vibrato to its slowest level and holds it between your legs.

 

You gasp and twitch at the sudden sensation between your legs but say nothing; instead, you grip the soft cotton sheets in order to hold still.

 

“Oh baby,” Joe coos, placing down the vibrator so it won’t move when he lets go. and sits down on a chair beside the bed. “This is only the beginning, and your already gasping and moaning?”

 

You glare at your boyfriend and begin to say something when your cut off by the vibration being turned up a level, using a remote Joe keeps with him.

 

“Joe,” you groan, struggling to keep still. You look over at your boyfriend to see him smiling at you, enjoying watching you struggle to keep your composure.

 

“hmm?” He hums, “What is it, baby?” Turning it up to the max speed, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

 

“Mmm, fuck,” you moan breathlessly, gripping at the sheets even harder.

 

“Use your words,” he tuts.

 

“Please, off,” you beg helplessly, “I'm going to come, please.”

 

“Uh, uh. No, your not.” Joe sits up and pushes the vibrator deeper, rubbing it up and down. “Only good girls get to come. Were you a good girl?”

 

You quickly shake your head no, hopeful that if you obey, you will get the reward of coming.

 

“No? No what, baby, use your words.” He says sternly but not coldly.

 

“No,” you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. “No, I wasn’t a good girl.”

 

“No, you weren’t,” he agrees, stopping the movement of the vibrator and leaving it still once more. “What were you then? hmm?" joe prompts.

 

“Bad girl,” you answer, arching your back, trying to nonchalantly wiggle away from the vibrations.

 

“Yeah, you were a bad girl.” He notices your wiggles and once again moves the vibrator closer to your clit. “And do bad girls get to come?”

 

“No, they don't.” You give him your best ‘I’ll be a good girl’ eyes, but to no avail.

 

“No, they don’t. Does that mean you get to come?” he asks, finding pleasure in your constant gasps and moans.

 

“No.”

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

You gasp loudly, “Joe, I’m going to come. I can't fight it anymore.” You carefully grind on the vibrator, trying to bring yourself to the orgasm you so badly need.

 

Joe quickly puts an end to that nonsense by taking the vibrator away. “Oh, baby, wrong decision.”

 

Joe waits a few minutes to let you come down from your almost orgasm, then puts the vibrator right back between your thighs.

 

“Oh,” you gasp, gripping at Joe's wrists, your nails digging into his skin. “Please stop. I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg. At this point, you’re willing pretty much anything to get him to stop.

 

“yeah? you have?" He gently removes your nails from digging into him.

 

“Yes! Oh, God, yes.” you all but yell. “I’ll never, ever flirt with someone else again.”

 

“Yeah, I know you won’t,” he agrees, unbuckling his pants and pulling them off.

 

You watch Joe strip, just now noticing how hard he is. Joe pulls down his boxers, and his dick springs out.

 

Joe climbs on the bed with you and removes the vibrator. “Show me how much of a good girl you can be.”

 

You eagerly climb on Joe's lap and position yourself on his cock. Joe slides inside you easily.

 

“Hmm, so wet for me, yeah?” Joe teases, kissing your neck.

 

“Yes,” you reply, turning your neck to the side so he has better access, as you begin to rock back and forth on Joe.

 

He flips you over your laying underneath him while he starts pounding into your dripping wet pussy.

 

You whimper and dig your nails into Joe's back. “Joe,” you pant, “don’t stop, I’m close.”

 

He continues pounding you. “No one will ever make you feel this good,” he whispers in your ear. “Look at you, so needy for me.” He kisses your lips rather aggressively, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

 

You moan in pleasure and run hand through Joe's hair, tugging on it, so his face is closer to yours.

 

You pull back from the kiss to moan out, “Joe, I’m going to come.” He continues, not slowing down his pace.

 

“Come for me, baby, that’s it. good girl,” he praises as you finish.

 

Joe comes shortly after and pulls out. You both flop on your backs, trying to catch your breath. After a minute or so, Joe turns to you. “I meant what I said. No one will make you feel as good as I do.”

 

You nod in agreement, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. “I know,”

 

Joe pulls you close; you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes.

 

“You’re mine; you got that?”

 

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Believe me, I won’t forget.”

𝓷/𝓪: requests are open!! feel free to use whenever you want.

[covenofagatha]

Agnes x reader age gap headcanons (NSFW)

Writing is hard right now but I'm having thoughts about a coworker/age gap (where agnes is a bit insecure about it) agnes x reader relationship so thought I'd just bullet point them to get it out lol but I might try to write the whole thing at some point

You've known Agnes from afar for a long time but you've gotten closer to her over the past few weeks now and even though you're about twenty-five years younger than her and new on the police force, you both get along very well

She's a tough nut to crack and known as the sarcastic grump around the station but you always manage to make her laugh

It's hard to tell how she feels because sometimes she's cold but sometimes she pats you on the knee and invites you to her office so you can sit there while she works

You like to tease her and be a little bit of a brat towards her but you think that she likes it

Someone tells her that she "looks good for her age" and she's a bit offended so you crack jokes about it because she's the hottest woman you know and it's easy to hide that if you say it sarcastically (but you also want her to know that she's attractive)

She calls you "kid" sometimes and you know that you shouldn't like it as much as you do and it's supposed to put some distance between the two of you but you think she might like calling you that too

At the end of the quarter, a few officers go out to a bar to celebrate and the only reason you go along is because Agnes is going

You talk to her the whole time, but what's more important is that she wants to talk to you the whole time

Two drinks later, you're a bit tipsy and being overly touchy with her and she says, "Didn't take you for a lightweight, kid." And because you're not thinking clearly, you tell her that you just want her attention

She smirks and says, "You always have it" and your stomach heats up with a mix of the alcohol and the sentiment

You don't remember much after that but you do know that you end up almost sitting in her lap without a care in the world about if anyone else sees you

The humid air sobers you up when it's time to leave and you slowly walk next to Agnes to where your cars are parked (because you parked right next to hers just to make the evening last longer) and you're desperate to keep her here with you

But she just leans against the hood of her police cruiser because maybe, just maybe, she doesn't want to leave yet either

The conversation becomes more flirtatious on both sides and you're so close to her that your knees are brushing against hers and you can still smell the beer on her mouth

She says something funny and flattering and the faint buzzing in your brain overrides all logic and you lean into kiss her softly

"Come on, kid, you don't want someone old like me," she scoffs

You show her just how much you do by wrapping your arms over her shoulders and riding her thigh right there in the parking lot until you come

Her hands dig into your hips to guide you while she grunts in your ear and all you can think about is how thankful you are that you both parked far away from everyone else

"Not bad for someone your age," you quip after her pant leg is drenched with your wetness and she barks out a laugh before spanking your ass and pulling you into the backseat of her car to fuck you properly

She likes to pack while at work and make sure you know about it from the beginning of the day and then tease you by pressing against you and making suggestive comments but she doesn't give you any relief until work is over

It's absolute torture but there's something so rewarding about sinking to your knees under her desk after everyone else leaves to pull the toy out from her pants and look up at her through your eyelashes while you suck on it and she gives you praises through gritted teeth

"Such a good slut" and "you're sucking on my cock so good, hon" and "what a desperate whore for someone twice your age" and "come on, kid, I know you can take more"

You straddle her in her chair and ride her until she picks you up and lays you on her desk and fucks you hard and rough and then both of you come all over her police reports that you distract her from doing

The chief makes comments about how they're always sticky when she turns them in and you just snicker while Agnes glares at you

You make it up to her by getting under her desk during your lunch break and eating her out until she comes all over your face twice and has to actively pull you away while you're going for a third time because she's too sensitive

"Kid, you're going to kill me," she says, trying to sound gruff but her voice is thick

You smirk and lean your wet cheek against the inside of her knee. "Too old for more?"

Agnes frowns and you know you're going to pay for that later, but it's completely worth it

You make sure to tell her how hot she is all the time because you know she gets a little insecure about her age but she can't call you a liar because you'll just drag her hand down between your legs so she can feel for herself just how hot you find her

The age stuff stops bothering her after a little bit

[alastorss]

hii!, hope you have a nice day<3, could I request alastor with a VERY VERY ticklish reader? with like alastor giving a hug to reader and him figuring out they’re ticklish (and using it to his advantage, fluff too!♡︎)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has tried everything he could think of, but your mood still hasn't improved.

He's resorted to the most humiliating scenario imaginable: knocking on Charlie's door and asking for her help while grinding his teeth. For you, he's swallowing his pride.

There's no discernible reason for you to be upset, nor has the Radio Demon been successful in finding a way to make your terrible crying stop.

You might as well plunge your hand into his chest and squeeze his heart until it stills. At least then he wouldn't have to feel this horrible ache just looking at your tears.

"Did you offer them their favourite food?"

"Of course I did."

Charlie thinks for a moment, hand on her chin. The Princess of Hell has a whole whiteboard of ideas going on how to make you feel better.

"How about hot chocolate? Hot chocolate always makes me feel better!"

"I don't think that's quite—"

"Oh! I know! What about singing a song? That always makes us feel better!"

Alastor's head tilts. While that was true, he's not sure the sentiment would exactly carry over.

"I... don't think so, my dear."

Finally, after filling the board with countless ideas and subsequently crossing them off, Charlie sighs and flops onto the couch next to him. "I give up. If only they could be cured with your hugs or something."

"... Hugs?"

Deathly silence fills the air as the Princess stares at him blankly.

"You... did try that, right?"

Alastor's ears twitch in lieu of an answer.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You've decided to hole up in your room again.

For whatever reason, it annoys Alastor. He hasn't been able to see your face all day, and as ridiculous as it sounds, he's become quite attached to you.

He doesn't bother knocking, instead opting to slip through the crack of your door in shadows and materializing beside your bed with a dimming smile.

You don't seem to stir at his sudden appearance, apparently used to his shenanigans.

"What do you want?" You murmur miserably from under your blankets, which are coiled up around you while you wallow.

"Come now, darling. It's a beautiful day in Hell! Why don't you join me for a stroll?"

He perches himself on the edge of your bed as you groan and pull the sheets tighter to your body.

"Go away, Al."

"Why, you've been absolutely pitiful, my dear. What's gotten you so down?" Reaching over, he peels the blankets away from your face so he can finally look at you.

There's a familiar throbbing ache of his heart when he sees your tears. When you don't answer, he sighs.

"Would a hug help?" He asks, trying not to cringe. He holds his arms open with a shaky smile. You blink at him with wide eyes.

"... Really?"

He hesitates, but then your eyes sparkle with the tiniest bit of wonder and happiness, so he surrenders. "Hurry and come here before I change my mind."

You shuffle across the bed, abandoning all your blankets and pillows in the process. After you've shed the layers, you slot into his arms.

At first he's stiff as a board, awkwardly patting your back. But then you relax in his arms, melting against him. Smile softening, he pulls you closer into his chest and squeezes.

Giggle.

Alastor's eyes fly open. Jerking back, he looks at you in bewilderment.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No!" You exclaim, slithering away from him.

"Are you... ticklish?" He asks, amused by your flustered expression.

"I'm not!" You lie through your teeth, squirming to put some distance between your bodies.

"Really, now~?"

He suddenly lunges at you, enveloping you again in his hold and purposefully poking at you with his fingers. You burst out into a fit of giggles, writhing to get away from him.

"Al!" You shriek with laughter. Shoving him away, you finally have a moment to catch your breath while you wipe away the tears gathering in your eyes.

Alastor reaches out, gentle this time, thumbs pulling at your smile. He admires it softly. As much as he hates to admit it, just seeing your face lit up fills him with relief.

"That's more like it, darling. Show me your lovely smile."

~

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[yesimwriting]

Stawp!

Louis and bestie reader are so cute

They would be so satc coded and go out for drinks and vacays

Also i think reader would introduce him and call him "my beautiful louis" to other people

But imagine louis getting home and texting her with a smile on his face all cute 🥰

I like the idea of the person who makes vampirism good being her, a platonic relationship, in contrast of a romantic companion.

Also i imagine this convo:

Armand: do you have to go over to her apartment every other day?

Louis: first of, we have our movie night fridays together and you know this!

Armand: its 4 a.m

Louis: duh? I got to get there while the sun is down, besides we need to pick up thai food because she does not cook and she will starve herself before turning on the stove

AND ARMAND WITH HER

I feel like after he knows her, he would be jealous of any relationships/ one night stands she might have (louis knows about them obvi! She calls him all the time 💅🏻)

Im obsessed with this concept 😭

everything about this is so perfect!! i'm so happy you got the vibe! i feel like he just needs someone to pull him out of his (slightly subconscious) angst and something about that happening through a platonic relationship is so endearing to me

they're so satc coded too, just besties drinking and vacationing and having (slightly) delusional conversations <3

also bestie reader calling him "my beautiful louis" to others is everything to me 😭 they for sure love each other so much omg

armand is definitely so messy with this 😭 he's like a cat trying to gaslight their owner into thinking they don't want attention

bc i love this sm here's an actual drabble/fic:

pls be nice writing for new characters for the first few times is so daunting for no reason 😭, also armand is a bit messy here <3

----

Not unlike daylight's earliest hours seeping through shut curtains, the haziness--the easiness--you offer him is persistent.

Louis has grown accustomed to the feeling, to the consistent warmth of your friendship, but every once in awhile the sentimentality of it all digs at him.

"This is..." You trail off, legs crossed beneath you and television remote still loosely held between your fingers. "Complex."

Louis's focus flits between you and the screen you're intently staring at. The two of you hadn't set out to watch a documentary on some nature channel, but this is far from the first time you've gotten distracted by some default program while attempting to put on a movie. "Very."

His sarcasm is enough to break the spell. You turn your head, frowning, "Don't make fun of me."

The documentary cuts to a well lit, sparsely wooded forest. The camera focuses on a deer patiently grazing on the surrounding foliage.

"I’d never," he mumbles, suppressing a smile in an attempt at seeming as serious as he needs to be for the joke to work.

You let out a sound that's too gentle to be a laugh before straightening your shoulders and returning your attention to the television screen. There's something ironically pointed about the way the peaceful background melody fades into something more sinister. Looming Danger.

The deer, alerted by some sixth sense, stiffens, its body stretching to its full, insignificant height. The camera zooms in, focusing on the deer's wide eyes and unmenacing features. "That kind of reminds me of you."

This time, your laugh is full, sharpened by a partial scoff that's as amused as it is offended. "That's the weirdest thing you've ever said to me."

The comment is almost enough to ease him. The camera pans out, allowing the audience to see the other surrounding deer. "Maybe the deer from that one animated movie."

You're quiet for a moment, thinking through the implication of the words before turning your head towards him again. "You mean Bambi?"

He had been much too old to be interested in the film by the time it came out, but the name is vaguely familiar enough. "I think so."

You blink at that, tilting your head slightly. "How do you know Bambi?"

"I don't know Bambi," the argument is a relatively flat one. Louis turns to better face you, resting his arm against the back of your couch. "I've just seen some commercials."

That only seems to confuse you further. You straighten, pulling your legs towards your chest. "Where would you have seen Bambi commercials?"

"They were everywhere when it came out in the 40's."

You don't respond right away, your attention shifting away from Louis and towards your bent legs. As far as references that remind you of his lack of humanity, this is far from a drastic one. The 40’s weren’t long enough ago to be inconceivable to you.

Still, you’re quiet, as if thinking through the potential outcomes of your reaction. You nod once. “Right."

When you look up at him again, there's a hesitant sort of curiosity behind your eyes. It's an expression Louis's more accustomed to than he wants to be, it's the way you look at him when you're reminded of the reality of the differences between the two of you.

You tap your nails against your knee. "Does it feel weird?" The question comes out with a suddenness that doesn't suit you, the stiffness of the words sharp and uncertain. "All that time--carrying it inside your head?"

For a moment, all he can bring himself to do is sit with the question. Your question. It's a simple enough thing to ask, but not a exactly a straightforward thing to answer. Especially not to you, who has yet to experience a significant passage of time even by human standards.

"Well," he starts, "You know about the way that time has impacted aspects of my memory." You watch him patiently, saying nothing to prompt or rush him as he thinks through his response. "It does make things feel different--years spent with someone can feel like moments, and moments with others can feel like eternity."

You nod once, allowing his answer to sink in. "Which one am I?"

He knows his answer before he knows how to put it into words. You’re too familiar for either.

“You’re more like a memory.”

Your eyebrows briefly pinch together at that. You part your lips, but before you can respond the documentary’s music swells.

You turn your head in time to see the coyote lunge at a deer. You sigh, screwing your eyes shut before leaning forward, You press your forehead against his arm. “That’s depressing.”

Louis could have anticipated the reaction, you’re usually more bothered by animals dying in movies than people. Still, though, your ability to find comfort in him of all things will never not perplex him.

Instead of pointing out that you’re the one that chose to watch this, he gently reaches for the remote. “Fine, I’ll put on the movie.”

----

The familiar ringing is so muted, so low, Armand's certain that if it wasn't for his enhanced senses, he wouldn't have been able to hear anything at all. By the time he's turned his head, Louis is already reaching for his coat's pocket.

Armand frowns. If the late hour and limited number of people Louis talks to weren't enough to let Armand know who the message is from, Louis's smile as he unlocks his cell phone would be evidence enough. You--it's always you.

He continues forward, allowing Louis to type out a response without interruption. Once he's certain the message has been sent, Armand begins, "It's her again."

Louis's attention shifts away from the screen. "She's my friend."

"I know," he says, voice flat, "Your best friend."

"Stop it." There's nothing aggressive about Louis's response, but there's an underlying warning pressed into the syllables, the same almost-sharpness that Louis relies on whenever Armand implies a lack of fondness for Louis's latest source of entertainment. "It's not like that."

No, it really isn't. When you first began to weave yourself into Louis's life, Armand had almost convinced himself that this was a blatant betrayal that defied Louis's usual preferences. After about five minutes of assessment, Armand realized that the two of you really are as affectionately platonic as you claim to be.

"No," it's an easy enough concession. Armand continues forward, the coolness of the night's air sharp against his skin. Their walk hasn't exactly been the most exciting night of their companionship, but it has been non-contentious in a needed way after their latest session with Daniel. "You do spend a lot of time with her."

Louis's quiet for a moment, thinking through his response in a way that Armand finds unusual. "You could spend time with us, too."

The sentiment isn't as true as Louis intends it to be. While Armand's been around you regularly enough to consider you familiar, there are a few things that the two of you want to do on your own. Your weekly movie nights, casual drinking at bars, the surprise trip to Milan. And during the evenings in which Armand is there, Louis regards him with a subtle uneasiness that if you've noticed, you know better than to mention.

In your presence, what they are may only be portrayed in the softest of lights. The facets of vampirism must only ever be suggested, alluded to so faintly that they're rendered incapable of tarnishing that darling soul of yours Louis is so determined to preserve.

"And subject the poor, little fawn to an evening with two vampires?"

Armand keeps his gaze focused on what's ahead of them, but he can practically feel the lack of amusement radiating off of Louis. "Come on," he tries again, "She's not like that."

Although he'd love nothing more than to solely resent your existence, Armand does have to give you credit for that. You hadn't so much as missed a single step when Louis revealed the truth to you, never once treating him differently. You also barely flinched when Armand appeared in your home with no warning as a way of hurting Louis during a particularly lively argument. Armand's yet to determine if your bravery is a sign of idiocy or a testament to how certain you are in your connection to Louis.

It's far from rare for Louis to feel the need to defend you, but there's a determination there that seems urging. "She asked you to come over."

Louis's hesitation, though brief, is confirmation enough. He almost stills but seems to think better of it, placing his phone back into his pocket as if that will be enough to make Armand forget that you're the source of this. "She just ended things with the boy she's been seeing."

Hm. Not exactly an interesting update, but intriguing...more intriguing than why you usually call Louis, if nothing else.

"Alright," Armand agrees, "Let's visit your puppy."

----

The apartment building you live in is far from run down. You've slowly but surely transformed yourself into one of those rare artists with a curated following so obsessed with being able to credit themselves as the discoverer of the next big thing that they go out of their way to purchase anything that you've labeled as yours. Existing at the cusp of fame has allowed you to afford a decent apartment in the city, but it's nowhere near as nice as where you could be if you'd accept Louis's offer to get you a place closer to them.

Louis knocks on your door twice. In less than a second, you're clicking the lock out of place. You're beaming as you pull the door open, "Louis."

Armand watches Louis's expression melt into one of total warmth. There's a definiteness to your friendship that Armand might envy if he understood it any better. What's so special, so interesting about you that your presence is always desireable?

Louis extends an arm, offering you the bouquet of flowers he insisted on purchasing before visiting you.

Your smile widens even further at the arrangement. If it wasn't for the information that Louis gave him earlier, Armand would have no reason to think anything remotely upsetting happened to you tonight. "I love peonies. Thank you."

You lift a hand, your pointer finger gently brushing a thin petal as you examine the flowers. After a moment, you straighten, turning your head enough to acknowledge him. "Armand, hi." The greeting is cordial yet far from cold, the way you often are with him.

"Hello," he replies. You step back, pulling your front door open as a way of inviting them in. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

You pause at that, parting your lips as you look back at him. Louis speaks before you get the chance to, "I told you to look sad when we got here."

It's a playful chastising at best, but you react as if Louis had really meant it. In some ways, Armand believes he did. "Oh," the sound falls flat. You walk further into your home's entryway, giving them the space needed to enter. "Give me a second, I can do better." You turn slightly, holding onto the flowers a little tighter as you bring your free hand to your chest. "I'm distraught."

Your performance isn't worthy of a standing ovation, but there's a humor there that might have been charming if Armand's disinterest in you was less inherit.

"Nice try," Louis mumbles as he wanders towards your couch. He sits down with a casualness that highlights how used to existing in your space Louis really is. "Armand wasn't up for visiting anyone and I wanted you to at least look sympathetic."

You walk past your living room. Armand watches you for a moment before following, if for no other reason than to feel something resembling Louis's familiarity. He keeps his steps even, making a point of remaining a few paces behind you.

You stop in front of a cupboard. After opening the cabinet, you have to extend your arm so fully to reach a vase Armand's surprised when you manage to grab it without knocking it off its shelf.

"Trust me," you say, exaggerating the syllables as you approach the sink, "I'm very sympathetic." You place the vase beneath the sink before turning on the faucet.

Armand steps forward, setting a palm against the granite that makes up the island attached to your sink. "I'm sure." The words are spoken so lowly they're nearly drowned out by the sound of running water.

"What did he do?" Louis asks from his spot on the couch.

You lift the vase out of the sink's basin, shutting off the faucet as you move to set the glass onto the counter. "Broke up with me because he thought he had a chance with his ex-girlfriend."

"What?" Louis turns fully at that, craning his neck to look at you.

You nod sharply, completely validated by Louis's shock. "I know." You remove the plastic binding your bouquet together. "Men are the worst." You carefully pull a flower away from its bundle before placing it in the vase. The process of arranging the flowers must remind you who brought them to you, because after a second, you amend your statement, "Except you guys. Obviously."

"Obviously," Louis repeats in a way that only feels somewhat sarcastic. "So are you...upset? Angry?"

You pause, giving yourself a moment to really think about your response. "A little of everything, I guess." You pick up two smaller flowers by their long stems before placing them in the vase. "But not crushed." You reach for a filler flower. "I don't know...it's not like I was in love with him."

Louis rests an elbow against the back of your couch, propping his head up as he watches you continue to adjust your flowers. "I'm glad you weren't." You raise your eyebrows at that. "He wasn't the right person."

"You always say that."

"And I haven't been wrong yet."

You give him another look that would be threatening if it wasn't for the underlying fondness there. "Don't start." You don't wait for Louis's reaction before returning your attention to the flowers.

Armand watches you for a moment before allowing himself to take in your apartment. This place is a known entity, but it's not exactly familiar. He's never seen anything beyond the living but he has heard you talk about a room that you've converted into a studio space.

It's not as easy as it should be to imagine a space solely dedicated to your work when touches of it seem to cover your entire apartment. Two canvases too uniquely you to be purchased are hanging behind your couch, there's a ceramic vase on your dining table that reminds him of the way you paint, and then there's the abandoned palette and partially finished canvas still on its easel.

Armand walks forward slowly, approaching the painting as you and Louis begin discussing your least favorite things about the boy that ended things with you.

Even unfinished, the project is strong in its certainty, in its style. Your brush strokes are sharp, unafraid. Next to your well loved palette, there's a small photograph that parallels but doesn't exactly fully match the partially completed house on the canvas.

"That's an idea for a new collection--the repurposing of abandoned things, places..." Your explanation is abrupt in a way that borders on shy. "It's not meant to be as pretentious as it sounds."

There's a self deprecating quality to the disclaimer that doesn't fit you. Perhaps he's stumbled onto an actual insecurity. "Does someone seeing it like this make you uncomfortable?"

"Uh," you start, confused by his own suddenness, "No, not really. As long as you know to look it as a work in progress." You tap your nails against the counter. "I--I have a room down the hall that's full of half-finished stuff if you want to look at those, too."

The offer feels more like an attempt to convince yourself that you're okay with his analysis of your work before it's been polished than anything else. The concept of your uncertainty makes Armand curious enough for him to actively reach for your thoughts.

Armand's concentration shifts onto your mind, and he's immediately thrown by the vaguest implication of resistance. Your mental defense is so feeble it might as well not exist, but the fact that it does...that you're trying to at all is almost endearing enough to convince Armand to leave you be. Almost. "Are you attempting to block me out of your thoughts?"

You blink, the blood beneath your skin rushing its way up your neck at your embarrassment. "Are you trying to read them?" When your counter question doesn't impact him at all, you sheepishly offer an explanation, "Louis taught me."

Of course he'd teach his pet a new trick.

Louis lets out a small laugh at that. "The fact that he felt it at all tells me you're better at it than I'd thought you be."

Armand's gaze returns to your painting. You've managed to find a warmth, a beauty in the forgotten. "The implication of resistance isn't the same as resistance itself."

The criticism stings, but you don't let it impact your expression. You let out an exaggerated sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly to add to your point. "Be nice, I was just broken up with. Over text."

He continues to study the painting, his mind attempting to break the piece down by individual brush strokes. "That doesn't matter to you. Not really." Armand can almost imagine the creation of the house's boarders, of the formation of each individual stone and the heavy ivy covering them. "You're not 'crushed' because you're interesting and he's not, and a part of you knows that."

The sentiment behind the words leaves you desperate to push him away. Blood settles itself beneath your chest. Your feeble mental shield returns, this time determined enough for Armand to feel its desire to push him out.

"You don't know if I'm interesting," the response is too soft, too curious to reflect your unease.

You tap your nails against the counter, the gentle clicks of them hitting the granite echoing throughout the space. Armand refocuses on the canvas. "Louis wouldn't like you if you weren't."

Something about the statement seems to ease you. Armand's reminded of how almost overly genuine your friendship is. "Thanks."

Louis lets out an almost-scoff at that, his eyebrows briefly drawing together in a display of mock offense. "Don't make me sound so shallow."

"It's less about your shallowness and more about my winning personality."

"Uh-huh," Louis mumbles, pressing a synthetic lack of interest into syllables, "Well, as long as its about you."

----

a/n this is lowkey way longer than i expected it to be but i loved this dynamic so much so if you want to see more of them pls let me know <3

[k-aemi]

blue lock ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ doctors note.

obsessive behavior, a bit erotic but no smut, self-harm, use of force, multiple mental illnesses exposed, some mischaracterization but its for the plot pls forgive me :<, traumatic events(?)

a/n: haii so this might not be accurately correct im no expert in this category but if you guys catch any mistakes ive made pls tell me thru asks or message me ^^ id like to improve anything and fix.

this is part 1! i will be writing more if you guys like it

for context youre a psychiatrist that works by yourself....kind of. its sort of a family business owned thing. but youre the main worker with the degree, your family was just there to assist you with checking in patients and cleaning around the small facility you owned.

though, it did seemed youd have to relocate else where, you were barely getting patients because of the unknown location you were at, and judged from the outside. just because your place was small doesnt mean you sucked! you were top of medical school!

just on a random day you get over 10+ appointments. you werent sure if someone had mis-clicked and meant to only add one. but there were a list of names, and all their information...

you werent even sure what to do, you dont think youve gotten this many patients at the same time before, possibly 3 at best and that was all.

the one who even assigned all of them to you was some person named Ego Jinpachi. youve heard of him, hes one of the workers of blue lock wasnt he? that football facility not too far from your place. youve found out hes bringing in football lunatics whos suddenly lost their minds. he says if you can, keep them confined in here until theyre able to function properly. this isnt the mental asylum!

he told you hes only chose this one because of the lost of money due the change of behavior in his players, investors soon losing the interest in investing in blue lock. he only has so much to spend.

so he asks you, which of course youll get two percent of what blue lock makes as soon as his players are back in top notch shape, which will make blue lock shine again.

you have no choice but to accept, this is your job anyways! its time to show your full potential!

patient #1: isagi yoichi.

checking in on isagi yoichi. who is dealing with severe anxiety. as hes constantly overcoming obstacles to try and exceed his performance, success and ability to meet beyond expectations. this always leads to him overthinking and anxious in high pressure situations.

he must becomes the best, but he fears falling behind his peers. he sets these expectations himself. his anxiety could worsen if hes pushing himself too hard, he wont be able to take care of himself for the future.

poor boy, always comparing himself with the geniuses surrounding him, he self-doubts himself, he thinks if he cant live up to their level, he cant be number one. he wants to be the best, he wants someone to recognize his talent in order to keep his drive to become number one striker. even an ounce of feeling ignored by the dominant players on field, he doubts his worth in football.

he was only the stepping stone to evolve rin and kaiser? he hates it. it feels like hes left alone in the dark. he wants to be the best, even with his best efforts, he cant do it! only there to unlock others potentials...but what about his?

getting to know him better, you fully understand as he warms up to you. you know the feeling of being left out, having that passion but never recognized for what youre worth for. he looks so drained and you feel so bad about it, for a doctor you feel like you get more sentimental than your patients.

he thinks youre always so patient with him, you would never pry into him forcing how he feels, or force positive thoughts into him. you patiently guide him through it and makes sure to take it step by step. sharing methods that could help with the anxiety.

your voice is so soft and youre not too much for him to handle. he thinks your presence is calming and warm, like he can forget all of his problems with you in there. every time you see a little improvement in his anxiety, youre always there to validate him. you just think with the praises, itd help motivate him!

oh and it does. to the point he lives for your validation. he thinks its a change of pace since youre no competitor from blue lock. he thinks of you as a safe space. you listen to him with no judgement, even when he thinks his diagnosed anxiety was for a stupid reason.

you view him not just as an athlete, but someone with emotions and vulnerabilities. he thinks thats the charm of you. he doesnt even notice it himself, but he starts to depend on you to make sure he doesnt feel rejected from society.

whenever youd come into his room to ask your daily questions, hes always asking further "are you happy im doing well..?" just to hear your sweet praises fall into his ears. hes love to hear it from you. thats his only source of living comfortably right now.

"yes 'm so happy 'ichi! im so excited to see you back onto the fields!" you clasped your hands together. the way the nickname rolls off your tongue makes him feel hes important to you, normally when someones important to someone, they love them right? you love him dont you? just as much as he does?

"[name..] you care about me right...? like a lot?" hed randomly ask you when youre checking up on him. it was very out of no where considering you were talking about the very famous franchise kamen rider shows. "hm? yeah care about you s'much!" you flashed your sweet smile at him.

your presence feels so warm...he...he wonders what its like for lovers to kiss is like, which is what he assumes you are to him. he cups your cheeks, staring intensely at your lips. youre a tad confused, you wondered if he just wanted to grab hold of something. not until you see him lean him and your eyes widened. coming back to your senses, you hands came in between your lips and his, stopping the kiss.

isagi can only look so confuse. what are you doing? youre his lover arent you? he can kiss you. why are you refusing him? his affection? are you rejecting him?

"i-ichi...what are you doing..?" you awkwardly back up and you see his gaze darkened. "this is what lovers do right...? we have to kiss. or are you rejecting me like everyone else does. am i just a background character to your story too?!" he lashes out on you.

"no no-what-lover..?" you should of perhaps saw this coming, in some rare cases it happens. your trance of thoughts were interrupted when isagi knocks down the vase on his nightstand.

"fuck-! knew it. fucking knew it. youre just toying with me too huh? youre rejecting me." he growls. the vase shatters you hurriedly try to pick up the pieces, youre scared isagi might try to hurt himself with these shards, if you dont take action fast, hell do it, so youll pick it up with hand first, the broom is kind of far and if you come back to him in a worsened condition, it can only lead to the bad.

you cut yourself on accident and you hissed at the pain. isagi immediately notices, grabbing hold of your finger...looking at it intently.

"u-uh ichi..?" you try to retreat your hand from him, but his gaze leaves you fazed. those eyes of his were so scary. isagi licks the blood that spills from your finger and licks it tenderly. sucking on the digists, tasting your precious blood which he thinks is sacred.

"i love you so much [name]...you feel the same way dont you..?"

patient #2: bachira meguru.

focusing on bachira meguru. a bit energetic...well thats probably an understatement, he really is energetic. studying him for a while it seems he has borderline personality disorder.

bachira who longs for deep connections may connect to fear of abandonment. he always struggled with loneliness and was always called weird by the other kids. as a coping mechanism, it led to him creating his "monster" he talks about to deal with the isolation hes faced.

he has an intense fear of being alone, even if its all in his head, he hates it. hes really dependent and have a strong sense of attachments to certain indivduals, just like isagi. he saw isagi as a crucial part to his well-being, knowing he can play football with him, hes like him, he has a monster too.

he yearns for someone to understand him. creating a sense of acceptance and validation from others. if he cant play football with anyone else, who else can but his monster..?

he doesnt even know who he is, he relies on others to define himself. just like how he relies on isagi a lot. whenever he sees isagi becoming more independent in his plays, he feels left behind because he thinks thered be no one else to play with him. :(

without the monster inside of him, he doesnt know how else to see himself. hes sees himself within that monster, without it, he struggles to find his true self.

whenever you come to visit him, hes always mentioning the monster to you. saying he wants to play, but you must help him get better first so he can succeed without the monster!

of course, you always ask him about the monster, you want to slowly try and make him self aware he can build other connections than his inner monster. you try to understand what triggers or triggered this abandonment, and when he tells you, you start to tear up on the inside!

you tell him to jolt down whenever he feels lonely or abandoned. or when his monster appears, what does it say? what does it do to him? giving him a little journal and a cute little pen with a sunflower on top to match his golden locks that touch the tips.

"you can tell me anything in this journal ok?" you flashed a smile at him. and he finally feels like youre the only one who understands him and this monster. honestly, if you were trying to make him to stop depending on the monster, hell just depend on you instead, thats the only reasonable thing to do right?

he sees you as a special person he doesnt want to lose. youre always so caring and give him the comfort he needs when he crys in the middle of night, saying he just feels so alone, he needs you to be there for him :(

hes never had this sort of comfort before aside from his mom. but having you and going through the process with it, he thinks this is what love feels like. he was always too silly to form a crush on anyone, or to even get a girlfriend, but with you by his side, this was definitely the love he yearned for, you understood him better than anyone. youre the only one for him.

he thinks whenever you visit him, its like going on a date! youre always coming in looking so pretty (you dont even have makeup on and youre in casual clothing www) for him and you look so happy to talk to him just as much as he does, he loves his doctor girlfriend<3

you dont even realize hes falling in love with you. you just think its his playful manner and excitement! youre so naive. what the hell did you mean you didnt know when he told you "you know if you werent my doctor id totally make you mine! kidding.." sticking out his tongue, hes so silly you just laugh.

sometimes hed randomly text you things outside of professional settings if you werent available right now, either out food shopping or helping out family matters. not that you mind, but itd be super random. "i drew two dogs. its us! :D”

even when hed say some "weird" things you suppose, something along the lines of him complaining why you have other patients. he tells you to just tend to him! you can only raise your eyebrow in confusion. "you do know its my job right?" you giggled a bit. "mmm... dont care. youre my doctor. and i hate sharing."

bachira always comes up to hug you first thing when you open the door to his room, he hears your footsteps from the hallway so he just stands to the side and jump at you when you enter in.

"[name]!!!" he nuzzled against your neck, the thud was so loud you think your sister probably heard it like 3 rooms away. his head rested above your chest as he rubbed his face on it, holding you tight around the waist.

"megu...stop doing that! im gonna get a head concussion one day!" you playfully bonk his head and he let out a soft grunt. he only giggles before inhaling your scent. god he loved this smell, it was at least better than the smell of antiseptics and disinfectants, it made his head hurt a bit.

"but missed you s'much.." he pouts. how did you not see the signs? you let out a content sigh, flashing a smile to him before patting his head, ruffling his hair. "sorry sorry, i was really busy. lets get you checked up yeah?" he nods eagerly. getting up to help you by handing his hand out, you grabbed it as he pulled you up. you never really realized how tall he was, judging by looks, he doesnt even look that tall!

but your trance of thoughts is immediately interrupted by a soft pair of lips on your cheek. did bachira just...? you back away, rubbing the part he kissed.

"im so excited for our date! were gonna talk lots and lots of things!" he grips your wrist, dragging you to the stool next to his bed. but you didnt budge an inch.

"hmm whats wrong? why do you look so upset?" he leaned closer to you but you back away. he notices this and doesnt take it so lightly.

"why are you avoiding me now..? do you think im weird? do you see me as a monster?" he starts to overthink it, as he clenches onto your shirt with a pained look. whats with this sudden demeanor?! you were never like this...so why now? was it the kiss? he thought you loved him so he thought you wouldnt mind!

"of course not megu...but you really cant just-" youre interrupted with a kiss on the lips. he didnt want to hear it. he was too dependent on you already, and youre gonna leave him like you guys had nothing? like you didnt have a single ounce of feelings for him either?! hes furious. how could you.

"dont leave me now [name]...please...i need you."

patient #3: chigiri hyoma.

onto the next model-uh patient. chigiri hyoma. seriously did he come from blue lock? he looks like a model with that beautiful hair of his. you accidentally mistook him for a woman! recording his actions and behaviors, you assume he suffers from ptsd, or post-traumatic stress disorder.

you found out that he had a acl tear and it was a traumatic event he just cant seem to forget, it nearly destroyed and shattered his dreams of being the best striker. sure he recovered, but this shaped his behavior and caused him emotional distress.

he was most confident in his speed, and for it to just be taken away from him again makes him scared. it would mean losing who he was as a player. stripping away that confidence and sense of security. poor baby.

hed never told anyone about this event. making it even hard to process having to bottle up is fears. even with his body healed, his mind didnt, still facing the fear and hesitation. :(

that traumatic event always replay back in his mind, and the words of his doctors still echoed inside of his head. hearing those devastating words that of he were to tore his acl again, his career of a soccer player is over.

whenever out on the field he gets the image of the injury happening, which he hesitates to show his full potential. whenever hed see someone to fall or hurt their knee, he cant help but feel that trigger, causing fear. it reminds him of what had happened and he cant escape from it.

just even thinking about running full speed, he hesitates and starts to hyperventilate. he gets so scared, he doesnt want to quit, he wants to keep playing! it gets so bad to the point hed have to be switched out with another person.

all he can do is run away from his fear, he wants to protect himself in order to keep playing. but how can he keep it up if his speed is what defined him? he wants to, but hes too scared of the risk.

he sees his strength in his speed. without it, hes nothing. hes nothing worth more than lead. he hated the feeling. the feeling of being weak, the feeling of being so scared. he hates himself. with his hesitation, he cant help but always feel like hes dragging his teammates down.

because youre his doctor and not one of the blue lock competitors, he thinks it might be alright to just fill you in, but he ended up telling you everything, and how he felt. he even cried, knowing he was weak after he lost his sense of self.

you sob listening to his story. youre determined to make him feel like he will be the best without having to worry! youre the first person hes ever told anyone outside his family. you give him the reassurance youll never tell a single soul about what happened to him.

to start off you think itd be best if you can help change his mindset! you help him challenge the negative thoughts that may occur in his head with confidence! "sure your speed is your gift, but its not the only thing that defines you! you need to remember just because it happened once, it wont happen again!"

hes never even thought of it like that, this whole time all he could think about is how hell destroy his body, and that stops him from showing his full potential.

you guide him through training to increase his comfort with getting used to full speed movements to boost his confidence his knee is strong and the past wont control him anymore! you give him some methods and techniques on to calm his anxiety before matches so that he wouldnt be so hesitant anymore.

you hope hed focus on the present, than cling onto the repeat of the past.

knowing youre the first person to know about his knee, you understand the weight of his trauma and you see past the talent he was gifted, he was more than just a speedy person! thats what he enjoyed about you. he feels like youre his safe space.

he gets these stir of feelings, hes confused on what it is. it happened when you told him..."you dont have to prove anything to me! whether you run or not, youre still the chigiri hyoma i know" followed by a giggle. what...what was this burning sensation in his chest. he cant wrap a finger around it.

he feels like around you, he can show his most vulnerable state. whether hes crying, angry, or scared. he can show it all to you without feeling judged. that always led to him wanting to seek your reassurance all the time. outside of football, he can be himself if youre around.

he loved how you were able to help him overcome his fears, even if it took a while, all throughout his whole years of liviing he was able to feel better about himself. due to his avoidant ways, he feels such a deep connection with you, causing him to think, maybe this is the feeling of love. he may thinks its admiration but he shrugged that feeling. its definitely love.

he starts to take mental notes of the little things you like or do. oh you prefer to use the air fryer than oil fry your food? its noted. you like to pick out the tomatoes from your burgers because you think the texture is gross? hes got it down. you like this certain movie at this specific time? you know it.

he loves your approval. everything you say to him puts in a trance really but he specifically loves whenever you help train his knee, seeing his progress, you tell him, "im so proud of you hyo!" his heart will always skip a beat.

he thinks the only patient you should tend to is him. i mean...you look like you enjoy his presence a lot, it means youre his favorite right? thats what he sees at least. so whenever youd leave his room, hed just mutter under his breath. "arent i better than them..?" with his furrowed eyebrows.

he knows the rules, he cant be a patient that falls in love with his doctor, but can you blame him? youre so caring and nice to him, its such a reliever from all of the egoists from blue lock. you dont think hed at least build some sort of dependency on you?

"alright hyo! im so happy youre recovering, i know its a long process but just some progress is a lot!" clasping your hands together to show your happiness. he knows its genuine, i mean you cant fake a smile like that. its so warm...youre like the sun to him.

"[n-name]...." he suddenly called out to you as he was sat on the edge of his bed, gripping onto the sheets with fear. he wants to tell you how he feels. i mean, you could potentially have feelings for him too right? theres no way a doctor is this nice to their patients unless theres one reasonable explanation. you like him too.

"yes hyo?" you didnt look up from your clipboard, jolting down some notes and writing some important details. you can hear some slight hesitation in chigiris words. but didnt really pay no attention to it.

"please just...listen...i..think...no scratch that..i know i have feelings for you." he would rub the back of his neck, slowly trailing his gaze from the ground to your eyes. he hated being vulnerable but for you, and for this opportunity, he couldnt waste it. he loved you so much.

you can only just stare at him dumbfounded, your pen dropping to the floor. you didnt expect him to openly express his feelings. you didnt even think he would have feelings for you. he most of the time had a stoic face to him, it was kind of hard to read him, but you still got through him.

you struggle to say the words you want to say. youre an extreme people pleaser and youd hate to hurt another patients feelings. "im glad youre aware hyo, but as your doctor, its a built on trust on your healing process. if i crossed that line, id be failing you. i wont dismiss or disregard your feelings like its nothing, youre important to me and i care deeply about you." you frown at him and you can see his eyes lower as his lips quivered.

you figured hed try and undestand, but he just persist, and it maybe fueled his anger. "so...thats it? just because...of some fucking stupid rule? is this your excuse? just fucking tell me you dont love me. at least make an exception! for me!" he lashed out and you kind of get scared. youve never seen him raise his voice at you. he hyperventilates as he continues with his fuel.

"you cant just tell me, just because youre my doctor...youre telling me we didnt have a thing going on? because it sure as hell didnt feel that way. i cant just pretend youre werent the only person who truly understood me! tell me...how to do that." he walked up to you, hovering over your figure.

you didnt dare to look at him, knowing youd be met with his cold gaze. you just bit your lip and clutched your clipboard in anticipation. until he took hold of your shoulders leaning down to your level and meet your eyes.

"fucking tell me [name]!" his eyebrows furrowed as his teeth grit. youre so scared, you feel threatened, but youre not sure what to do, hes much stronger than you. theres nothing you can do in this situation.

when he sees your trembling figure, he loosen his grip on you and sighed. hesitantly wrapping his arms around your neck when he sees you wince a bit. he soften a bits before letting out a content sigh.

"'m so sorry...didnt mean to... i love you, you know that...?"

patient #4: itoshi rin.

the brother of itoshi sae, itoshi rin. you could of swore you treated to itoshi sae once. but thats for another story. judging by his actions, you think hes suffering from depression.

this patient sure was a bit difficult. he rarely talks about his feelings. instead its mostly hatred he expresses it as. hes always talking to himself, "its not enough.." repeatedly you dont even know if hes aware youre still in his presence.

when he wants to get away from the suffering, he fixates on sae. he hates the way sae just did him like that, seriously his only goal was to play football to become the second best aside sae. now he wanted to change? he doesnt matter in saes life anymore? how could he. how fucking dare he.

he cant express his sadness so easily. even if he tried to, it turns into anger, lashing out on others. but he doesnt mean it, it just happens. he doesnt mean to push others way.

hes so harsh on himself, he thinks every loss granted feels like a personal failure, making him hate himself even more. when you had first tried to help him, he could only scoff to himself. "dont ask me stupid questions." you kind of cried from that harsh tone but dealt with it (www).

hes always keeping his distance. hes so focused on winning, he barely express genuine joy and rarely smiles. but its not like he wants to. he wants to prove himself the best of the best, after what had happened with his big brother. hes terrified of being betrayed again. he cant just let people walk into his life, just to be betrayed.

he will never allow himself to feel good enough. every failure and loss of his will only increase his self-loathing. he pushes himself, pass his limit, to the point hes at the passing out point. but he must do what he must, hell never rest. you know his excessive training? he thinks for not being strong enough hell punish himself with it. thats why hes so well built.

hell never waste time, meaning he runs to little to no sleep. how could he when he has people to exceed. he must train harder than ever before, push his limits. when you question why he does that he gives you an annoyed glance. (makes you cry on the inside) "only the weak rest. i dont have time for that."

he cant ever forget that night. how could he? its a wound hes not able to stich up. rin hates sae, but on the look of his eyes, he yearns for saes validation. it only fuels when he praised isagi. shattering rins heart. he cant stand it anymore.

no matter how much he can do, hell never be better than sae, he never feels enough. he thinks the reason why sae is gone is because hes too weak, it hurts, it really fucking does.

though rin was a difficult patient to get a hold of, you never had the thought to give up, everyone has their breaking point, even for someone like rin. youd be so patient with him, even if it felt like everyday was a failure to try to get him to open up.

rin hates how persistent you are. he hates being vulnerable towards others. but you never shut up do you? why cant you just give up. but this feels all too familiar. still persistent yet no where close to the main goal. he can only punch the wall, leaving a hole in the room hes assigned in.

you think the most effective way to help him was to challenge his toxic thought patterns by questions. "if you think losing makes you worthless, why do people respect those who lose but improve?"

rin can only halt for a moment and rethink his harsh self judgement. he tries something to counter it, but nothing comes to mind at first.

rin never directly told you, but you can imply someone important has either left him or betrayed him of some sort. was a friend? girlfriend? parental figure of some sort? youre not sure.

"who is this person you wish to surpass? i noticed you tend to say "i will destroy him." you had hope this could maybe expose his intentions? but rin only scoff.

"that man...i swear ill destroy him hell regret everything he said to me that night.!" he raised his voice. honestly you dont know who else can it be.

"is it perhaps your older brother, itoshi sae?" and his ears perked up. you notice his change of behavior. guessing it was him. "why did sae leave you?"

"theres nothing to talk about."

"then...just hearing his name, why does it make you angry? if he didnt matter, you wouldnt care." and rin cant even run away from his feelings. he knew he had to confront them sooner or later.

rin only knows how to push himself, he doesnt have any healthy coping mechanisms. poor boy. rin would sometimes refuse to talk to you, only resulting to telling to him to write down his feelings to realize whats going on and see that hes actually harming himself.

as he writes his feelings down, he starts to read aloud what he writes to you and your heart lights up, youre so happy hes able to warm up to you even after a whopping of two weeks. once you validate his feelings, he finally learns...maybe allowing being able to express himself doesn't make him feel weak.

though you did need to help his other unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as not getting enough sleep and punishing himself for being so "weak". youd give him advice to try an improve those coping methods. "if youre trying to improve yourself please dont push yourself. you need to recover too. you need to take care of yourself okay? in order to beat sae." at least to match up with his goals to motivate him to change his unhealthy ways.

rin generally thought of you just as a doctor who has to tolerate with his issues. hes emotionally distant and refuse to acknowledge any pain or feelings. but just seeing your ways of helping him puts him in a sense of comfort.

youre always calm and non-judgmental, someting rin isnt used to, due to the environment hes in and because of his brother. with you around he feels like he can slowly open up. not fully but just...slowly.

the more he talks about sae, the more he expresses his struggles. throughout his whole life he was incapable of expressing himself, but with you around, you create that space for him to open himself more.

the more and more he talks, he doesnt even realize it himself. he just lets himself go, is it because youre here? he feels like time goes by fast when hes with you. he finds...comfort within you.

as your job, youre always here to remind him to care for himself, something he heavily struggles with. whenever he seems to be so stressed out, you give him the upmost attention which rin doesnt realize he likes when youre showing your concern for him. at first he feels its weird when he receives your comfort, but he lets down his guard with you within time.

sometimes when he realizes hes becoming too close to you, he wants to push you away. well he does. when youre trying to pry his feelings out, he just makes excuses to end the session early, or just refuse to talk to you.

even with his refusal you dont give up on him, which is what he hates. whenever you keep up at it, he feels sting at his chest. he cant even describe what he feels. was this a bad feeling? good? scared? he cant get a hold of it.

its subtle but he does show he cares for you too. he would notice the eyebags under your eyes and the way you would slur your words a bit in sessions. hed only get a bit ticked off, "stop pushing yourself so hard. its annoying seeing you like this." honestly its so unexpected of him, but you just figured hed want a more professional doctor instead of a tired one.

sometimes when he does catch on with what he does, he tries to distance himself, skipping sessions to see if the feeling will go away. but it only worsens and lingers, he wants--no, needs to see you.

at a session, he does seem to be uncooperative, not like its anything new, but you do see that somethings been on his mind. you wonder what could it be. "everything alright rin? you seem to be on edge today. whats bothering you?" you cross your legs tapping on your clipboard.

rin can only scoff with his jaw clenched. just seeing you made him even more frustrated. "obviously. you." you halt your movements in confusion, oh no did you do something wrong as his doctor?

"me? im sorry can you recall what you dislike?" you leaned back on your chair in anticipation of his response. "i hate it. its confusing. i dont get why i always think of you. why i feel like i cant stand being here, but also the idea of not coming back. i dont know anymore. everytime i leave this room, its like i leave something behind. and i dont want to go." clenching his fist as his gaze falls to the floor.

you think hes just expressing his frustration, only until his words hit you cold. "its more than that. I-" you cut him off. you already knew what was to come. "rin please. i care about you, but i cant be that person for you. i am only here to better your wellbeing."

he didnt like that answer. it only fueled his anger in fact. slamming the table in front of him before angrily scurrying off. "rin!" you called out to him, but hes already left your office. you can only sigh frustratingly before continuing to note down some information.

its late at night. and your up in your office, just up to finish some work for the other 10 patients you need to tend to....its such hard work! only until someone opened your door and it was so unexpected you jumped. but its only rin, and you sighed. "rin? your session was over hours ago."

he can only click his tongue before walking up to your desk. "i needed to talk." he says with his stoic face. "you know its late, i cant make exceptions." now standing in front of your desk, the only light that emitted was from the door, and the white from the computer screen. "you do it for other patients." he shifts his gaze to the side.

"rin, if its about that-i care about you as my patient, but thats all there is to it." "i know." you frown, you hated confronting your patients, it always felt so mean but you had to! "then why are you still here?" rin can only clench his fist. "because i dont believe you."

his eyes flickered with determination and desperation as he grits his teeth. "if you didnt feel the same, you wouldnt care this much. i know it. i know you can feel it too, dont you?" he really did try to make you admit you did have feelings for him. you dont even know what to do anymore! "you treat me different than others."

"i treat my all my patients equally."

"liar. you hesitate when you look at me. you dont do that with others! i know how you look at me." he kept eye contact with you, slowly walking to your figure.

"Rin-"

"youre scared how i make you feel." he interrupted. "you think you know how i feel. but i know exactly what it is." his arm would reach out to caress your cheek, but you grip is wrist. his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"rin, i care about you a lot than you think, but not in the way you want me to!" but he could only swat your hand away before taking hold of your cheeks, as he forces you to stare at his teal eyes.

"liar. i know you feel it. the connection we have. its stronger than any other patient you have." he closes in. you turn to face the other direction, avoiding his ways with you.

"stop refusing me already! look at me." he whispered to you, in a calmer tone to convince you. but his patient wears thin. he was always impatient. "i said look at me!" forcing you to look at his eyes. fear in your eyes, youre scared he might hurt you at this point.

"thats a better look for you." eyeing your lips, he feels some sort of excitement, that flow. your lips quivered, but its okay, rin will comfort you now, its to repay you back for everything youve done for him.

he leans in kissing you. his knee rested in between the negative spot in the chair, as his arms rests on the sides.

"see..? this kiss proves our connection."

patient #5: mikage reo.

from the mikage corp, reo mikage. for such a once bright person hes so gloomy and unmotivated now. hes always talking about your other patient named nagi seishiro. was there some sort of conflict between the two? the way he talks about him leaving, it seems like he has dependent personality disorder.

reos entire motivation for football intiailly revolved around nagi it seems. he always believed they could achieve such greatness together and that nagi was his treasure. he fixates a lot on their relationship and uses that to define his own worth.

but thats when his whole world shattered when he left him for isagi. really, was he not good enough in nagis eyes to partner up with him? he struggles to cope after that whole event. hes not confident in his ability alone, and refers himself nagis partner only, not as a person himself.

you know how he lost to isagi and nagi? and when nagi didnt choose him? he panics so much when nagi chooses to move on without him. he feels lost and betrayed. why didnt he choose him? the way he pleaded nagi just shows the fear of him being left behind. he doesnt want to succeed by himself, he wants--no...needs to do it with someone by his side.

observing reo more, he seems more of a follower than a leader himself. always relying on nagi rather than himself as a striker while lacking the self confidence without his partner. he feels as if hes not enough on his own. showing that part of his dependency needs.

he feels distressed when he thinks nagi will leave him behind and abandon him. he doesnt know how, but he just wants to keep nagi close to him. he was always perfect with everything, but he cant even keep his relationship perfect with nagi.

he needs nagis guidance in order to succeed, whenever out in the field, he looks for nagi for confirmation or approval of some sort. showing that lack of confidence in his own judgement.

he does have goals of his own, but he buts his own needs behind nagis. he finds nagis well being more important than his, he sacrifices his needs to make sure nagi feels secure, even neglecting his own desires. he lets nagi take control of situations because hes scared getting into conflict with nagi :(

taking all of this, you figured why not focus on increasing his self-confidence and help with emotional stability! though you did know this would be a difficult challenge as a lot of people struggle with that.

his biggest issue would be his worth and purpose to other people, which in this case was nagi...you would help work on building a sense of self outside of relationships! you would try to make reo aware of his dependency on others and talk about his own strengths when playing football, or just any personal achievements since he was good at anything.

you encourage him to make decisions alone! you start off small though, since nagi isnt there to decide for him, you think it will help build that individualism. you ask for what kind of meal would he like to eat, not what nagi would want. and then youd start with what would he want to do after he has won the world cup. something along the lines of that!

you do take note on what he told you how he felt during nagis "betrayal", you do believe he has a fear of abandonment. so you would try to suggest and develop coping mechanisms for him! you would try to prove to himself he can handle it, control is emotions, and communicate his needs without fear!

you teach him to set boundaries, so he isnt so dependent on one person or fixate on it. but you feel like you just made it worse.

hes never received such emotional support for his feelings, he thinks the way you treat him like hes so delicate makes him feels such things. youre one of the first people to listen to him, guide him, and see him more than just the mikage kid from a rich family who can do anything. but you see the side where hes most vulnerable.

he feels less alone venting his emotions to you, he develops that attachment. somewhere close where nagi lies.

he loves your reassurance that you give when he tries to work on his independency. but its not like you do that to make him rely on you, you just want him to be more confident in his healing progress! "Reo, you can do this, you dont need anyone to be strong." youd flash that sweet smile of yours and he gives you a soft look. "you really think so..?"

the more time you guys connect, the more he just sees you more that go beyond that patient-doctor bond. he admires the way you talk, the way you comfort him, and your sweet smile. hed always be in a trance when you speak because your voice is so soft, sometimes he doesnt even realize you asked him a questioned and youd have to shake him to come back to reality.

"reo? you okay?" you raised your eyebrow in confusion and concern. but hed only be startled, avoiding your gaze. "y-yes...just thinking." hed cover his mouth with his hand with such a flushed face. just from that moment, hes not just attached, but in love.

but hed always tried to reject that possibility. no no, hes not in love, he just really appreciate you for trying your best to help him...yeah thats it. he justifies his feeling as you just doing your job and you help him a lot. like when hed want to talk to you more often than scheduled sessions...or when youre so kind to him. sure everyones been super friendly with him, but you were just so different from others.

finishing up your session you click your pen and settle down your clipboard. "reo, youre making such great progress! you should be proud of yourself!" you clasped your hand together with that cheery face of yours. reo really didnt care about feeling better anymore. he just wanted to be with you at all times. sometimes he might even slip up to make his feelings for you obvious, but your naive self just take it as him still in the healing process.

he wouldnt want to try and make it obvious, but how could he make it known that he did love you? ah, thats right. money! hes rich, he can basically use that as a way to win your affection, its worked on others, itll work on you too.

at first hed test the waters, buying you such expensive gifts that not even you can afford or would even have thought of buying. designer clothes, watches, or some sort of vacation, telling you that you deserve a break from your hard work. (the trip will just be you and him www).

hell donate to the clinic, he tells your family members to keep it a secret from you because he doesnt want you to know hes funding your workplace, youd probably just try to refuse the money, but he just wants to make your life easier! and by that...he also wants to help with any bills you have under your name or debts you need to pay off like medical school.

he thinks its his way of showing his newfound "love" to you. everybody loves money dont they? its perfect. whenever hed suggest giving you an abundance of money, you just refuse, shaking your head.

"reo, i cant accept this," youd frown while crossing your arms.

hed get nervous from the way you react, why are you rejecting his money? no one ever has. "just let me do something nice for you. its a way of repaying back." hed laughed it off, but hes so scared you might catch on. whenever you reject his gifts, he gets so frustrated. he thinks even his money isnt enough for you. or was he, himself whole wasnt enough?

if you werent going to tend to his advances, he might as well just...say it to you right? hed gaslight himself into thinking maybe you wanted him to directly say it, maybe thats why you refused to take anything from him.

"alright reo, thank you for your time today! im glad to see you almost in shape and youll back to blue lock!" seeing you stand up from your chair, hed take hold of your wrist, not budging.

"[n-name]...i know this is very sudden. but." he stopped in his tracks, standing up looking down at your figure before taking both of your hands in his. hed inhale a breath before making eye contact with you again.

"i see you more as my doctor [name]. you make me feel like i could be the person i truly want to be..." hed caress your hands with his thumb. he thinks he just made it worse for the both of you. the silence is heavy as you stare at him in disbelief.

"im glad i can provide that space for you reo, but you cannot do this, nor can i accept any of the gifts you give me." reo can only frown, his desperation clearly showing.

"why? because im just a patient to your eyes? i can be more than that. you can quit your job and ill provide the money for you. you and your family!" he tightens his hold on you and his look is pleading. but you can only shake your head in refusal. "i must remain professional reo."

after that confession reo would pretend like hes fine, but thats because he was embarrassed and sadden. but its not like hed give up, he just wanted to give off the impression that he didnt care, but he did.

"to think someone could reject me, its refreshing." hed smile it off but you can only sigh, it just seems like hes trying to remind you of that.

he thinks to himself that if expensive gifts wont work on you, hed switch to personalized ones. like a favorite show you mentioned, he would buy merch and give it to you. or if you mentioned a book you wanted to read but never had the time to go buy it, hed buy it for you alright.

hed try to make it hard for you to completely cut him off by just spending an abundance amount on the funds, donations or buying out your workplace...

hes always offering to help, but even when you did refuse hed just play it off as being generous, but really he just doesnt want to give up on you.

he resorts to more desperate measures without even realizing it. "youre the only person who sees who i really am. if you leave too...whats left of me..?" hed caress your hand with his thumbs. lifting the hand to give a sweet gentle kiss to it.

"reo, you have to learn how-" he cuts you off, pulling you in to take hold of your waist.

"why do you fight so much? you care about me, i know you do!" your hands lay on his chest to try and push him off, but he wouldnt budge even a bit! "not in the way you want me to reo. youre my patient." hed stay silent for a bit, biting his lips from your response until blood was drawn. only to let out a bitter laugh.

"so im just another patient for you? just another worthless being you have to fix?!" hed squeeze you tighter, until your bodies connected. "youre not worthless reo. and youre important to me, but it isnt right to do this." youd frown hoping he can finally understand the situation hes in right now.

"then why does it feel like youre the only thing keeping me together..?" hed rest his forehead on your shoulder with his voice cracking. "please. just let me love you. youre my treasure."

this took forever to write and think out i hope it is okay to you guys! since it is not smut i feel like it will flop ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

[dailymanners]

For this week's Off Topic Tuesday, in honor of it being April Fools, instead of pranking my followers I want to showcase some of my favorite pranks I've seen from local businesses and institutions. I like all of these because none of them are really harmful or scary, they're all just silly and at the very worst might confuse someone.

Coming in at number 1 is local grocery store chain Hagkaup announcing that you can now get married at their store. I put this at number one maybe because it was the first post I came across this morning before I remembered what day it was, so it actually got me for a second. The worst part is that for a brief second I actually thought "Well, maybe since Hagkaup has been the location for so many late night snack runs for me it has sentimental value, so maybe it would be kinda cool to get married in this grocery store."

Coming in at number 2, the national institute for the Icelandic language announcing that they've run out of room, and feel there are just too many words in the Icelandic language, so they're just going to start deleting words out of the Icelandic language. Props for originality and cleverness. Unfortunately because I came across the Hagkaup post first (and consequently remembered what day it was) I already knew it was a prank, but otherwise this might have actually gotten me for a second.

And finally, coming in at number 3, local grocery store chain Bónus announces they will be selling bacon ice cream. There is a clever pun here, because ís means icecream, and grís means pig. There's a dessert you can get in grocery stores here called ísblóm (ice cream flower) so grísblóm (pig flower) is a clever rhyme/pun here, especially because their mascot is a piggy bank (as seen on the box in the picture). To be honest, I'm almost a bit disappointed that this one is a prank, because I'd actually be down to try bacon ice cream.

I've seen a few others around on social media, but I just liked these three the most and found them to be the silliest and most clever.

Feel free to add in the notes some of your favorite pranks you've come across or witnessed today :)

[tenshi-kawa]

sleeping positions w. makoto yuki, akira kurusu, goro akechi

typically, makoto likes to maintain a little bit of distance between you and him (he doesn't like being too warm...) but still curled up together like a pair of cats. but sometimes he feels particularly sentimental and hugs you to his chest, like he's afraid of losing you.

akira likes to hug you from behind, tucking his legs all up with yours and wrapping his arms around your middle. on the contrary, he can never be warm enough, and refuses to sleep without a blanket even in the hottest weather. going to the toilet is also a struggle once he's gotten his hands on you, and he knocks out like the dead. it's kind of amusing.

akechi moves far too much for there to ever be just one regular sleeping arrangement, but if there has to be one, akechi does like pressing his face into you (aggressively, i might add, you have thought him to be suffocating on many occasions).

leave a rb and a follow if you enjoyed! ♡ dividers here

[nayziiz]

Empty Bed | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (her/she)

Author's note: This ended up being a lot shorter than I intended. My brain hasn't gotten over the LN4 win yet, so that's where my thoughts have been the last few days. As always, please send through your thoughts, suggestions and requests!

Masterlist

When Charles awoke to the unfamiliar silence of their bedroom, he stretched out his arm instinctively, only to find the chill of an empty space beside him. It was the first time he had woken up alone in their home; the rhythm of their lives often dictated separations due to his racing commitments or business trips to Maranello. But this time was different. She was always home when he was.

As the morning light streamed through the curtains, casting shadows across the room, Charles couldn't shake off the eerie feeling of emptiness that enveloped him. He reached for his phone, half-expecting a message, a call, anything to reassure him that she was okay. Yet, there was nothing.

The absence of her presence seemed magnified, her scent lingering faintly on the pillow next to him. It was a scent he had grown accustomed to, one that brought him comfort and warmth. But now, it only served as a painful reminder of her absence.

He tossed and turned, the sheets feeling colder than usual against his skin. The weight of her absence pressed down on him, suffocating him with a sense of loneliness he hadn't anticipated. He missed the sound of her laughter, the way she would hum softly while making breakfast, the way she would curl up next to him in bed, her head resting against his chest.

It wasn't just the physical absence that unsettled him; it was the realisation of how much he relied on her presence, her companionship, her love. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder how he would get through the days ahead without her by his side.

He reached for his phone again and video called her. Charles's heart skipped a beat as her face appeared on the screen, her smile illuminating the otherwise dim room. For a moment, he simply gazed at her, soaking in the sight of her, as if to reassure himself that she was real, that she was there, albeit miles away.

“Hi, my love,” she greeted him, her voice carrying across the distance, reaching him like a lifeline. Her words washed over him, filling the empty spaces within him with a warmth he had been craving since he woke up to the emptiness of their bed.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he feared that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile connection between them. “I miss you.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with longing and yearning. He watched as her smile softened, her eyes reflecting the same longing he felt in his heart.

“I miss you too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it won't be long now. I'll be back before you know it.”

“I don’t know how you do it, baby, waking up here all by yourself,” Charles's sigh carried the weight of his emotions, mingling with the air between them like a tangible presence. He watched as her expression softened, her eyes filled with understanding.

“It's not easy,” she admitted, her voice gentle. “But knowing that you're out there, doing what you love, it makes it a little bit easier. And besides, it's always worth it when you come back home to me.”

Her words wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, soothing the ache in his chest. He reached out, as if trying to bridge the physical distance between them, his fingers grazing the screen where her image flickered.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words a declaration, a promise, a lifeline in the vast expanse that separated them.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice echoing his sentiment across the miles that stretched between them.

And in that moment, as they shared those three simple words, Charles felt a warmth bloom within him, chasing away the chill of the empty bed, filling the space around him with a love that knew no bounds.

Each morning without her felt like a countdown, a reminder of the distance between them. And as the days passed, the iciness of the empty bed seemed to seep into his bones, leaving him longing for her warmth, her touch, her love. Oh, the things he wished to do to her when she came back…

[dysansohmin]

what do you think abt DT now?

(sucking down like an entire liter of water) hold on

I am not through 7.2 yet, but I suspect that's not going to effect my answer here very much! I've definitely had some time to sit and think about it, and my major takeaways are:

The format of main expansion story content has changed. I am not holding out hope for it to come back. The sidequests were crazy sparse, and Tural suffered for it. As overwhelming as it can be to get to a new area and see 50 sidequest markers, many of which are gonna feel like a chore to clear if you are rushing - every one of those is a character beat, a little nuance to the setting, a chance to pause and look around the environment. I think that there's a bit of rose-colored glasses about what I'm about to say next, and it's a sentiment I've seen expressed a lot, that previous expansions were **edgier** in that, we got allusions and direct plot-handling of lots of nitty-gritty everyday life shit. Dawntrail is the tail end of that progression, with like. The standard of living and intercultural conflicts in Tural being ironed over entirely, this sense of an absurd & universal standard of living, that Tural feels very much akin to Living Memory as being like, a perfect little facade. I am anticipating that this may be challenged, but I think it also may not be! (Much like EW's Garlemald segment, another bugbear for people with this opinion). I am frustrated that Alexandria is getting the goods when I was so excited to see what they did with Tural. There's a good chance Tural will continue to be a playground for a scavenger hunt, and Gulool Ja Ja's legacy will continue to be that of like, a beloved righteous superpacifist or whatever! We might never get Whalaqee either! I'm doing the Wachumeqimqi quests rn (I hate it I hate how they named it I hate it) and the fisher one is like. I don't want to be herrrrrre Then again, I am enjoying observing what the devs dive into and what they don't. I would love to peek at the JPN script, but my Japanese is rusty and elementary, so. I would LOVE to know if the Shock and Awe flyer in Living Memory was a localization insertion - it's one moment that comes to mind as "oh they are working with what they have to inject some interesting complexity." Woulda loved to see more of that in Tural proper and not have it all penned off in War Criminal Infinite Growth Torment Nexus Electrope Land. It made me yearn for Stormblood! I'm very excited to revisit Stormblood now! I don't think I appreciated Stormblood properly the first time through! I say this knowing that the Stormblood localization DOES make me want to claw my own eyes out every 20 minutes, and by GOD does Stormblood have its own issues about many of the same things- I think the localization HAS gotten better, and I think that there is a general move in fantasy games right now to tamp down on the colonial legacy of fantasy RPGs. I think Dawntrail is situated in that context. I feel they tried very hard to be respectful, and what we got is shallower for it. It's really hard NOT to read that next to, say, Veilguard as a State of The Industry thing. Anyway, this was the expansion with the graphical update, so it makes sense that there was less time/resources devoted to quest design and writing. But it's also a bar-set, and I understand how game studios operate.

I will be playing MSQ much more slowly going forward. Even with how sparse the sidequests were, completing them in time with MSQ as they unlocked left me with a MUCH more favorable impression of DT than most of the people I saw rushing through it. My full-game playthough on Evka, I am totally adjusting my approach to match how I played DT: clear every single area of quests before moving onto the next. This has helped me a lot with my FOMO about the game, and really helped me slow down and read closer. This approach is helping rekindle my appreciation for ARR. It puts me in a more receptive mindset for things like the interminable Tombstone Shaaloani bit, or the post-Titan wine fetching. And it requires patience. If I start feeling impatient, I stop playing. Believe it or not, I was like, not tremendously impressed with the post-ShB patches because I felt like MSQ was just rehashing. I remember sitting there looking at Ardbertlidibus like, "fuck man, power of friendship. we get it." I took it too fast, and I was impatient to be Caught Up. I genuinely wish I could replay ShB for the first time and NOT just mainline the primary story, because if I was close-reading I would have gone totally insane about this game like, two or three years earlier.

The on-level content's never been more fun. I loved the dungeons/raids this time around. They have really honed in. There's less though! There's less combat! There's less gameplay and more story, which is wild, considering how little story there is. This was a sparse expansion. But I'm having a blast with what was there, and did ultimately feel satisfied. Again, this is where I'm setting my bar for expectations going forward, if I'm pleasantly surprised than that rules. I like that they're getting goofy with dungeons ago. Much as I groan when I drop into Strayborough, it's fun, and it puts me in mind of things I liked about ARR dungeons. I also love how they continue to play with duty support as a diagetic tool. This is now approaching 100% on being a wonderful MMO for people who want a single-player experience, which is a weird sentence! Even though I like the social aspect, I appreciate being able to drop into a new dungeon as a healer and getting to learn the mechanics myself firsthand, instead of being obligated to spoil myself with a dungeon guide to ensure a zero-death run. Environmental design also wowed me. There is a great mix of detail and traversability. I do miss the little tiny tableaus and unused locations of HW & StB, having a multilevel space to poke around. I am not a huge fan of DT's "split the zone in half so we can use it twice" structure. I want those zones to become unsplit, at some point in the story, if that's the case, and have an available instance where a previously untraversable area becomes so. At least an interactable, like an NPC who will ferry you from one side to the other? But the zones were gorgeous, the settlements had tons of fun little details, Tuliyollal is, again, the most impressive hub city in the game. (Sorry Crystarium!!! SORRY!) There were places that could have used polish to match it - The settlements Urqopacha felt much more living than Kozama'uka, for instance.

Previous expansion content is starting to suffer. I have NO idea how they are going to manage further re-balancing. Many of the jobs are no longer any fun to play until like, 80 for me. This problem is only going to get worse, and it's going to require major overhauls more and more frequently, and those overhauls are going to simplify rotations and pare down interesting toolsets. I worry!

This game is going to be about itself for the rest of its lifespan. Shadowbringers was the thesis. Endwalker was metatext. Dawntrail is the rehash. It will be all rehash from here on out, mark my words. Unless they are willing to pull back the stakes and refrain from parallels and drop us back into something like HW or StB (which I desperately hoped DT would be!) It's going to be the Azem show forever. Which, again, means the story is now much less important to me in terms of perceived quality. I'm just hoping they get silly with it? I made a post about shark-jumping. I will be clapping like a seal as this story calcifies and crumbles under its own live-service weight. All that lives must someday die. Except our subscription based MMO, which you can play forever. The tension is impossible to reconcile, and this is the way of episodic stories. It's going to get funny. I'm ready.

I... Understand the beef with Wuk Lamat. The data doesn't lie. My girl Lamaty'i has an ASTOUNDING amount of dialogue. Record-shattering. My girl Lamaty'i cannot stop fucking talking. Hear feel think. Big bug. Oh no she's seasick again. I think Sena Bryer's been an absolute trooper, I think this is a star role she should be proud of, and I think she's settled into the character nicely. And also, I get it. Lyse didn't deliver the entirety of the StB script. If this was Alphinaud I'd be seething. But, and here's the kicker, here's why I love her: kibty.

I still hate that fucking train! THE TRAIN IS ONLY A METAPHOR FOR SOCIAL PROGRESS INSOMUCH AS COLONIZATION IS. YOUR WALKABLE CITY LIGHTRAIL IS NOT AN UNCOMPLICATED GOOD, AND ALSO NOT COMPARABLE TO A "TRANS-CONTINENTAL RAILROAD." TRAINS ARE NOT LEFTIST, WHATEVER THAT MEANS. ARE WOMEN BOURGEOIS ETC & also KOANA WAS SO HIGH ON ADOPTEE RECONNECTION HE SUDDENLY DECIDED HE LOST HIS PARENTS AS A SWADDLED BABE, WHICH. OKAY Subjecting me to the entirety of Smile for the first time during the inspirational train sequence probably didn't help me suspend my qualms long enough to huff that Spirit O' Progress. And I had source Jeryk & Train Friends ON my Dawntrail bingo card. I wanted to see it. I asked for this. (head in my hands) Actually, this is something I haven't talked about: I feel really conflicted about Smile! They tackled a lot of kinds of American music for this expansion and normally I would be really into gospel being one of those genres - but god is it a stinker. god does it suck. fuck. I really wanted Alexandria to be a little more experimental for the soundtrack. The gamer EDM thing is low-hanging fruit, imo. I wanted to step into Solution 9 and be as wowed as I was in Tuliyollal, I wanted like, avant-garde jazz or funk or blues. (Hang on I just imagined electroswing S9 and had a coughing fit.) I was even hoping for like, some disconnect between the sonic/visual environment. Haven't fought Dancing Green yet, so I'm excited to hear that track but. They could have been more textured with this. Vanguard having that dubstep breakdown over the Shaaloani music got me READY and then S9 let me down. Every time I go turn in materia clusters it's like stepping into an elevator. Snooze!

In sum: Still unhappy the game has contented itself to discard Tural as a backdrop for inter-dimensional Alexandrian drama. I think Tural was fun, and am sad it did not get more room to breathe. WRT writing about nations, peoples, colonization, technology: there is no winning, but there is trying. I felt like I could see things there that did feel like earnest attempts to engage - traditional ways of life being upended, lost knowledge & skills, indigenous ways of teaching, sharing economies, etc. And also, these themes are being evoked in ways that naturalize them in a way it's fair to file under "a bit noble savage-y" & are divorced from their relationship to colonialism. Why did all of the Hanu forget about the harvest festival that has ensured their livelihood for years on end, and had to be instructed on it by Wuk Evu? Well like, you know. That's how these stories usually go, isn't it? The lazy youth spurn their elders' knowledge, and there is no particular outside force that threatens to destroy indigenous technologies, and no purpose to those technologies being supplanted, Koana just happens to be the World's First Turali Sharlayaboo and the steam locomotive is a net good and obviously no one on the entire continent could have figured out A Balloon without the Studium's help... Hey what's this plot about a moneylender? You know, unless the Hanu were ALL play-acting for Wuk to teach a lesson, as in the quest chain that also occurs in Ok'hanu, and like the cooking contest in Yak'Tel and, well. That's not how it panned out! The Blessed thing was! like. La raza cosmica had to be on the mind, yeah? But... I can't even really articulate anything about the Mamool Ja because the logic of that story section is so alien and inarticulate itself. I think the Yok Huy were underutilized. I think blue-eyed-babyfaced Christopher Columbus in his magic avatar forest hut was weird. I FEEL LIKE I WON'T HAVE AN INFORMED OPINION ABOUT THE POLITICAL BAGGAGE OF DAWNTRAIL UNTIL I REPLAY ARR-StB! Genuinely! I need a refresher! This is a game written by a Japanese team which featured an entire expansion about occupied China! And I was, again, rushing through that! I think a lot of the people speaking about Dawntrail ALSO rushed through that! Because the playerbase EXPLODED with EW, and this is the first expansion where many people have been around for the full dev cycle. But anyway, This was a fraught setting, and it seems like they're eager to abandon it now that it's set up Azem's Weird Cup. That makes me sad, even despite all the failings, because I think they failed in interesting ways, and they were always going to fail, and they were always going to do some things right, and there is no ONE way to talk about these issues, yeah. Biggest gripe is still Xak Tural and the way it was handled, and choosing the spaghetti western vibe over like, the cultures indigenous to the American southwest, that hadn't changed. I wanted to see it. I still want to see it. Me and Erenville are going and you are all invited. But pulling away from text and into Me The Player My Experience: I'm sitting pretty tight with FFXIV. I think I'm in this longhaul style, and again, I am satisfied with it as a game. There is NO way they could have kept up those chops. We got a pretty incredible first run, and I will feel fondly about it as a piece of writing for a long time. And I don't feel like I'm settling! I'm having fun! Higher quality fights in lower quantity is FINE by me! And my favorite thing in this type of game remains the busy work & grind, and the outfits and the decorating. My gameplay experience has not suffered, I am in fact having way more fun now than I was pre-EW.

In sum in sum: I think FFXIV is still pretty good, for an MMO. The format of an MMO is at odds with nuance. The format of an MMO is at odds with a story about grief and mortality. That FFXIV has received its accolades and is being held to this standard is, frankly, insane, what a crowning achievement in narrative design within these constraints. I don't mean to sound like I'm shoveling garbage in my mouth but I don't think I could have taken another ShB/EW type deal. Now, if they would just Slow the Fuck Down and make something that is not trying to match Endwalker's pacing... & I still don't know what Solar Bahamut is. And that scares me.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Last Day Out

sorry for my inactivity here’s a Chrollo fic for your troubles

Warnings: death, kidnapping

Word count: 6.9k

The dark, clouded skies overhead threatened to burst open with rain at any moment, much to your disappointment. You were hoping that the weather would be good when you went out with him today. A nice day with lots of sun but wasn't too hot – that was what you'd been counting on. Days like that made it hard for you to feel sad, and you hoped it would be the same for him.

But despite a decent temperature, the clouds loomed overhead and blocked out the sun completely. That only left you feeling nervous.

What made that feeling worse was the fact that there weren't a lot of people here, the threat of rain was compelling most to stay at home. Not an unreasonable stance to take, but it was bad timing for you. A busier atmosphere in the cafe would have made you feel a bit more at ease, but when the only other company you had were the two waitresses who were currently wiping down empty tables and an elderly couple taking their time with their lunch, it was hard to feel like you had any safety in numbers.

Then again, the cafe could've been filled to the brim with patrons and you likely would've still had the same problem. Because no matter how many people were around you, it wasn't like that changed anything when you were sitting across from your boyfriend and trying to build up the nerve to tell him something that he wouldn't be happy to hear.

With the way things were outside of the cafe and how nervous you felt, you almost wanted to cancel your date entirely and move it to a different day, but you'd forced yourself to go through with it, knowing full well that if you dragged this out any longer, it would only get worse for you.

You needed to break up with Chrollo.

But you needed to do it in a way that didn't end in him being angry with you.

That couldn't be too hard, right? In the time that you'd known him, Chrollo had never exhibited any truly worrying behaviors towards you. The two of you had some disagreements, but he had never gotten full-on angry or even raised his voice with you. And while ending a relationship was much more significant than the minor disputes you'd had over unimportant things, you wanted to believe that he would take it well.

He needed to care at least a little about you, right? So he wouldn't take it badly and lash out in the worst way possible, right?

You had no idea, but you told yourself that he would respect you enough to accept your decision, even if it might hurt him to do so.

He was capable of giving you that much courtesy, right?

“You've been very quiet today.”

The sound of his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and then you were back, sitting in the booth of the brightly-lit cafe that was greatly contrasted against the dark hues present outside, with your mostly finished meal sitting on a plate in front of you while the older couple a few tables away spoke quietly to one another and one of the waitresses had disappeared to an area in the back.

Back to Chrollo, sitting across from you with a look on his face that you couldn't quite read.

You got the sense that he was studying you.

You gave him a soft smile as you said “I guess the state of things outside has me feeling a bit down.”

He nodded as if he understood, then said “we didn't need to go out today if you weren't up for it.”

“No, I wanted to go out. And besides, sometimes it's better if you make yourself do something even if you aren't feeling up to it.”

Immediately after saying that, you realized how bad that sounded, and you stumbled over yourself as you added “sorry, that came out wrong. I didn't mean to make it sound like going out with you was a chore.”

He smiled at that.

“I assumed that was the case, but I appreciate you clarifying.”

Chrollo took a sip of his water before saying “and while it's a nice sentiment, it's also always fine to cancel if you aren't feeling well.”

“It's not really a matter of not feeling well,” you answered, “just one of those days, you know?”

“I see.”

The meal was coming to a close, and soon one of the waitresses would be over to take your plates. Which meant the time that you needed to say those words you dreaded was coming up.

I think we should break up

Just thinking them made a lump form in your throat, and in that moment you really wished it was safe enough for you to break up by text. It would've felt scummy to do it that way but you wouldn't have needed to deal with this. Although breaking up through text wasn't taken well even by the most well-mannered people, and you desperately didn't want him to be angry with you.

You just couldn't see him the same way anymore.

Not after watching that video.

The waitress, the one with braided hair who'd been wiping down the tables earlier, approached your table and asked if she could take your plates. Chrollo responded for you, smiling as he gave her a polite confirmation.

Okay, you thought to yourself. As soon as she left, you would say it. Maybe begin by saying you had something important to talk about.

“Was there anything else I can get for you?” the waitress asked, “or did you want the check?”

You were about to ask for the check when Chrollo responded for you again.

“I wouldn't mind having a look at the dessert menu,” he answered. Then he looked to you as he asked “does that sound good to you?”

“Uh, sure.”

The waitress was happy to comply, and with the cafe being next to empty she brought the menus over to you quickly. Chrollo didn't take long to figure out what he wanted, and he and the waitress chatted a bit while you came to a decision.

You glanced over at him a few times, noting how comfortable and relaxed he appeared to be as he engaged in polite conversation.

He still had a knife, you realized. It sat next to where his plate had been, having gone unused during the meal. A bad thought came to mind then. Of how open the waitress' neck was and how easy it would be for him to grab that knife and then-

Stop it. Just order something and then get this over with.

The waitress went to the back soon after to get a parfait for you and a tiramisu for Chrollo, which left you alone with him again.

It'd be awkward to tell him now that you wanted to leave him, wouldn't it? So you'd need to wait until after you'd gotten your desserts to say it. You let out a soft sigh without thinking, after which you found yourself hoping that he hadn't noticed.

“I know it isn't much,” Chrollo said, bringing your attention back to him, “but I thought that perhaps something sweet might lift your spirits a little.”

“Thank you,” you replied, then added “sorry if I've been ruining things for you today, though.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, “no matter what mood you're in, I'm happiest when I'm with you.”

As he said that, he reached one of his hands over the table and held it out, and after a moment, you copied him, placing your hand into his and allowing him to squeeze it softly.

There was an odd flutter in your heart upon feeling his touch. And when you looked back to him and found the soft smile on his face as he stared at you lovingly, you remembered the day you met him and why you'd fallen for him.

The area where the two of you met was close to the cafe; you'd been walking on the sidewalk when someone had shoved into you from behind unexpectedly and you were sent crashing onto the pavement. Your hands and knees had taken the brunt of the fall, and were subsequently scraped up to the point of bleeding.

When you looked up from your bleeding palms to see if whoever had pushed you had the decency to stay and check if you were alright, you didn't find anyone, and you couldn't catch sight of anyone who looked as if they were fleeing the scene.

The situation was made worse when you saw that of all the others on the sidewalk were actively ignoring you. They wouldn't look at you, and for the ones that found you in the middle of their path, they would walk around you and go on their way.

That had been a depressing moment: you were clearly in need of at least some assistance and no one around you felt inclined to even acknowledge what had just happened.

That was when he showed up.

Chrollo seemed to appear out of nowhere and offered a hand to help you back up to your feet. He kept a firm but gentle grip on you as he looked over where your injuries were worst before he asked if you would let him help you.

Still in slight shock over the situation and being unable to properly use your words, you nodded.

Twenty minutes after that you sitting on a bench in a park while Chrollo applied the disinfectant he'd gotten at a nearby convenience store to your wounds before placing the bandages.

By that point you were feeling better, even after dealing with the painful sting of the disinfectant and the ache in your arms and legs. You wanted to repay the man who had been the only one to care about what happened to you. While he'd refused reimbursement for what he'd spent on disinfectant and bandages, he agreed when you proposed that you pay him back by getting him something to eat.

Ten minutes after that the two were sitting at a table at that same cafe, chatting over the desserts you'd be paying for. You remembered how grateful you felt. If not for him stopping to help you, your entire day would've likely ended on a sour note with you patching yourself up on your own and trying to distract yourself by watching a comfort film. Instead you were out at a cafe with a handsome man who had proven himself to be extremely kind and generous, and when he'd asked you to give him your number so he could keep in contact with you, you were more than happy to do so.

It didn't take long after that for Chrollo to become your boyfriend.

Evidently the way you met was also on Chrollo's mind, as he then said “We've come here a lot, haven't we? Ever since our first date that night.”

“Wasn't so much of a date as it was me trying to get over what happened after I got knocked down,” you mumbled.

He smiled as he said “I thought it was in repayment for my helping you.”

“Well, yeah,” you began, “you were really nice to me, and I wanted to do something nice for you back.”

“And I'm glad you did. We might not be here right now if not for that.”

“Yeah....”

The way you trailed off was a mistake, as you watched Chrollo's eyebrows furrow in concern. You tried to wave away his concerns before he could voice them, however, saying “sorry, just feeling tired.”

It didn't seem like you had been too successful, as he was serious when he spoke again.

“You should get some rest when you get home, then.”

You nodded while saying “I will.”

Just then the waitress from earlier approached the table with your orders, setting them down as she told you to enjoy. You both thanked her, and she walked off while you focused on the dessert in front of you. Despite hoping that Chrollo would be right and that you'd feel a bit better, the dessert didn't do much to ease your nerves. And what began to disturb you was the fact that every time you glanced up at Chrollo, he would glance up immediately after and catch your gaze. You tried to play it off by smiling at him, but you felt the muscles in your cheeks becoming more and more strained.

He wasn't stupid. He'd caught onto the fact that there was something wrong with you. Lying about it would only make it worse when you eventually told him.

Chrollo wasn't stupid, but you sure felt like it in that moment.

Not long after the waitress brought the bill out to you, placing it on the table while telling you to take your time. When she was out of earshot, he spoke.

“Is it really just the weather that's bothering you, love?”

You looked up at him and found that you couldn't read his expression again.

“This entire time you've looked as though you've been wanting to say something to me,” he continued.

…. Best to say it now, you supposed.

Placing the half-eaten parfait to the side, you took in a few breaths to try and compose yourself.

“Yeah, you're right,” you began, “there is something I need to talk about.”

He didn't reply, evidently waiting for you to speak.

You quickly glanced up at him again and just as quickly glanced at your folded hands on the table.

Just say it. Just say it and get it over with.

I think we should break up

I think we should break up

“I think we should break up.”

When the words finally left your lips, they were a bit more hushed than you'd intended, perhaps partially out of fear of saying them too loud and drawing unwanted attention to yourselves, and perhaps also because of how much saying them out loud scared you. You had no idea how he was going to react to that, and that uncertainty kept your gaze focused on your hands, too scared of what you might see if you looked back to him.

There was no reaction from him at first, and part of you wondered at first if he hadn't heard you. Yet the longer the moments passed with nothing being said and the more you felt his gaze boring into you, the more you felt certain that he had, in fact heard you. Perhaps he was taking the time to process it.

You still didn't want to look at him.

He didn't say anything at first, and for a moment all you heard was the chatter coming from the other patrons of the cafe. It sounded like the elderly couple were leaving as you heard the other waitress wish them a good rest of their day. The bell above the entrance rang out as the door was opened, and rang once more as it was shut.

Now all you heard was the waitress as she cleared up the table the couple had been sitting at and a distant rumbling of thunder from the outside.

You stayed quiet, figuring that the ball was in his court.

The first sign of a reaction from him came when he slid his plate to the side before resting his forearms on the table. From the edges of your vision, you saw the way he clasped his hands together. He was taking what you said seriously.

Then he spoke.

“I did get the sense that you wanted to discuss something important with me,” he began, “although I must admit that this wasn't what I was expecting.”

“I thought things were going well between us,” he added, “but there must be something wrong if you were unhappy with me and I failed to notice it.”

“I'm not unhappy with you,” you replied.

“Then why would you want to leave me?”

Just make it out like you're the one who's the problem, you told yourself again. Don't let him catch onto the fact that you know anything about what he's done.

“You didn't do anything wrong,” you said, “you've been wonderful, actually, and I've really loved the time we've spent together.”

“But I don't think that I'm really in the right place mentally to be in a relationship,” you continued, “I've got a lot to do with work and other obligations, and I really need to take some time to do some self-reflecting.”

“Self-reflecting on what?” he asked.

“General issues,” you answered.

Fuck. That felt like such a weak answer. Say something else.

“I'm also just not good enough for you.”

There was a pause before he repeated “not good enough?”

You nodded.

“In what way?”

You cleared your throat before saying “financially speaking, we aren't very well matched.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I don't want to leech off of you,” you said.

“You've never done that.”

“I feel like I have sometimes.”

He didn't immediately respond, but you got the sense that he wasn't satisfied with that line of reasoning. You needed to say something else.

“Plus, I'm really not smart at all when compared to you,” you added, “I don't always understand the things you talk about, and make you clarify yourself a lot just so I can get it. You shouldn't need to dumb yourself down for my sake.”

“When has that happened?”

“Just.... Every now and then, you know?”

“I don't.”

…. You didn't know what to say to that. It was becoming obvious that drawing this out was only exposing what little reason you actually had to be leaving him as your answers were becoming more ridiculous. And you still couldn't bring yourself to look at him, too worried that if you saw the way he was looking over you, you would crack.

Just keep blaming yourself and tell him that he can do better than you.

It wasn't like that part was a lie

Ignoring that bit of self-loathing that came up to the surface, you told yourself to press on. Find something that would be an acceptable reason for him.

Before you could do that, he spoke again.

“If it's simply insecurities of yours that are the only reasons you have, then those are things that can be worked on, and I would be happy to help you get through those issues. I don't see why we need to end everything when there's a much happier solution,” he said.

“You shouldn't need to deal with my issues, though,” you replied.

“Why not?”

“You deserve better than that. You'd be better matched with someone who isn't so much of a mess.”

“And like I said,” you continued, “I really need to work on myself on my own, and I don't want to drag you with me through that process. Or make you wait for me.”

“So you're telling me to move on?” he asked.

“I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm just saying you're wasting your time with someone like me.”

“You need to stop saying that, love. Being with you isn't a waste of time.”

His voice had a stern edge to it when he said that. As if you were beginning to upset him.

“Sorry,” you began, “and that's really sweet, but I think it's for the best if we go our separate ways.”

“And if I disagree?”

“..... I'm sorry, Chrollo. But I've made up my mind,” you told him, “I don't want to hurt you, but you can't force me to stay with you, just like I can't force you to stay with me.”

You reached to the side to grab your bag and fish out your wallet, saying “lunch is on me. It's the least I can do.”

He didn't say anything. And after you placed the jenny on the table to pay for the meal, you didn't say anything either.

You're almost out of this, you told yourself. Just get your things together and leave.

You were putting your wallet back in your bag when he spoke again.

“Is there a reason why you won't look at me?”

His question made you pause.

It made sense that he would ask, though. Since telling him that you wanted to break up, you hadn't looked at him once, instead keeping your gaze on either your hands or what was left of your parfait.

A normal person who wanted to break up wouldn't be so adamant on not looking at their now ex-boyfriend, would they? Not unless they were mad about something. And since your reasons had all been to do with how you were a mess and not good enough for him, it would be strange to keep that up, especially if your goal was to leave him without making him upset with you.

Look at him, apologize, and then leave.

And whatever images pop up in your mind when you see his face again, be sure to ignore them.

Taking a small breath that you hoped he didn't notice, you looked over to him.

There was an unhappy expression on his face, his lips set in a frown while his eyebrows were wrinkled over his eyes, conveying the feeling that he was sad and didn't understand your reasoning for leaving him.

You might've believed that was what he actually felt if it wasn't for the way his eyes studied you in that moment, watching your facial expressions closely to pinpoint something that would give away that what you were saying wasn't true, if there was something more that you were attempting to hide from him.

There had always been a certain intensity to his gaze, even from before when you felt good about the two of you being together. In the beginning it had made you nervous, the way it felt he could look right through you, but you had gotten used to it, chalking it up to Chrollo giving you his full attention.

You saw something different now when he looked at you.

You turned your head away, mumbled out one last “I'm sorry” and then placed your hand on the table as you prepared to leave.

“Just answer me one last question before you go, love,” said Chrollo.

“.... Okay.”

Almost there. Just answer his question and then you could leave.

“Are you sure you're leaving me because you feel that you're inadequate?”

He paused.

“Or is it because you found out about the Phantom Troupe?”

…..

Hearing him say those two words made you freeze. You didn't know how long exactly, but you stayed in your seat for a few seconds, staring at the floor of the cafe while your mind processed his words. He knew that you knew.

He knew that you knew.

Get out.

Now

With one hand on the table and another on the back of the seat, you were about to push yourself up-

He stopped you from standing as his hand clamped onto your forearm, keeping you where you were with a firm grip that refused to let go.

“You aren't leaving, love,” Chrollo whispered, “not yet.”

“Let go of me,” you replied.

You tried to pull your arm away, but his grip stayed strong.

“Stay seated and talk to me,” he said, “if you make too much of a scene, you might attract attention. That's what you've been trying to avoid, isn't it?”

Upon hearing that, you looked about the cafe. Neither of the waitresses could be seen, which must've meant that they were in the back. But they could come out at any moment, and if they did notice something wrong going on between the two of you, you feared they might involve themselves.

The thoughts you'd had regarding the waitress and the knife from earlier came back to mind, and you shuddered.

You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you caused Chrollo to do something to them.

“.... Okay,” you said, “okay. We can talk. But could you let go of me?”

“No.”

“I won't try to run again, I promise.”

“I wish I could believe you, love,” said Chrollo, “but unfortunately, you aren't proving to be very trustworthy at the moment.”

“Chrollo,” you began, trying to pull your arm away again and still getting nowhere with it, “Chrollo, you're hurting me.”

“It only hurts because of how hard you're struggling. Stop trying to pull away and the pain will stop,” he answered calmly.

“I want you to let go of me,” you said.

He didn't respond to that, and after a few more unsuccessful attempts to get your arm away from his grip, you felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Chrollo, please-”

Upon hearing that, he shook his head.

“Being polite about it isn't going to help you much right now,” he said, “if you really wanted to prove that you'd cooperate, you would stop struggling.”

… He was right that struggling like this was pointless, you realized. And as much as you didn't want him touching you, doing what he wanted was more likely to lead to a solution where you didn't end up dead. Tell him that you had no intentions of going to the police and that you wanted to forget everything.

You stopped trying to tear your arm away and instead sat quietly. Maybe the show of submission would have him let go of you.

Instead of that, his hand slid down from your forearm and grasped at your wrist. That looked less strange, probably. Like he was holding you affectionately instead of keeping you from leaving.

He got straight to the point, asking “how did you find out?”

“... Does it really matter?” you asked back.

He hummed.

“I assume someone told you, then,” he said.

“I didn't say that.”

“No, but it felt as though you were trying to protect someone,” he replied. Then after a moment he added “and it seems I was correct since you became even more tense when I said that.”

….. You hated how easily he was able to figure it out. And you hated how easily you had given up that information, even if it was unwittingly.

“Who was it?” asked Chrollo.

You shook your head. That was something you wouldn't be telling him. And when that became clear to him, he shrugged.

“The answer to that can come at another time,” he said, “though I have to assume it was someone important to you if it was that easy for you to believe them and not even ask me for my side.”

“.... I saw a video of you,” you whispered.

His eyebrows raised slightly.

“And what sort of video was that?”

“One where you sliced a man's neck open.”

He didn't seem to be phased by what you had said. He didn't push you any further on that, and merely hummed to himself again as he finally understood why all of this had happened.

Someone had shown you proof of his true nature.

Chrollo didn't push you any further on what you'd seen; it didn't seem to interest him.

But you remembered it clearly, sitting on the couch in your apartment, holding the phone that your friend had handed to you after calling you up and telling you that they needed to show you something important. They were standing over you, watching your reactions as you looked at the footage on their phone that they'd managed to get a hold of. It had come from a contact of theirs, they told you, but they wouldn't elaborate further.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing; Chrollo, who had always been so kind and caring towards you, approached what appeared to be a security guard in a hall who was distracted by his phone.

Then he had crept up behind the guard and sliced his throat with a curved blade.

And as he let go of the guard and watched as he fell to the floor, the camera that had been mounted on the side of the hall was close enough that you were able to see Chrollo's expression clearly, and it was best described as being disinterested. What he had just done was of no consequence to him.

But the truth was that the murder wasn't the worst part of the video.

It was what came after.

That neutral expression changed when you heard a voice come from off-camera, a cheerful voice that called out to Chrollo and caught his attention. Whoever had spoken didn't appear in the video, but you heard them as they made a joke about the dead guard, something in regards to him having his phone out on the job. What it was that had been said exactly you couldn't remember. But you did remember Chrollo's reaction to it.

He smiled as he let out a short laugh. It was a sight you'd seen before during the times that you'd amused him and was usually followed up by an affectionate pat to the head. Something you had grown fond of.

Now you saw that same smile at a murder scene.

Chrollo had just killed a man, and he was laughing about it.

Your world came crashing down and you could barely hear your friend telling you the details of what they called the Phantom Troupe and the things they had done as you were too focused on the fact that for the past eight months you'd been dating a murderer. Someone that didn't bat an eye at killing innocent people, and you'd been getting to the point where you were fantasizing about the possibility of living the rest of your life with him.

And that image of him in the video stayed in your head.

It would've been easier to deal with if he'd remained emotionless the whole time. That way you could've rationalized it in a different way; that everything you'd experienced with him was all a lie, any reaction you'd gotten out of him wasn't genuine and that he wasn't a person who felt anything, that he just used a facade to act like a normal person and all you were to him was a way to build upon that lie. That he'd picked you because he rightly assumed that it'd be easy to entrance you with the mask he wore so you would play the role he wanted.

What you had seen when he laughed was a genuine reaction. No matter what you tried to tell yourself, he had no reason to fake an emotion like that when he was around someone who was a participant in his crimes.

As quiet and reserved as Chrollo was, it wasn't as though he didn't have emotions. They were somewhat muted at times, but they were there.

And he had laughed at what his friend had said while a man lay dead or dying at his feet.

It was made worse when you thought of the happy moments that you had spent together. And even worse still was that moment from earlier, when he'd grabbed your hand and smiled at you and caused your heart to flutter.

How was Chrollo able to commit something as horrendous as murder and still be able to love you so freely? Even now, when he was literally holding you down so you couldn't get away from him, his thumb began to rub circles against your skin as if to calm you, and somehow it didn't feel like it was an act.

How could he do that?

“No wonder you've been so nervous today,” he said, “you must be terrified of me.”

Seeing no reason to lie, you nodded.

At that, he pulled your hand up from the table and brought it up to his mouth so he could place a soft kiss upon your clenched fingers.

It was a weird mixture of emotions again. Despite knowing that he was a murderer, you found that your mind was going back to happier times that you'd spent with him. Like the time you'd had a bad day at work and he showed up at your apartment after to cheer you up by making you dinner, or the time you'd happened to find a rare book at a pawn shop that you had heard him talking about and surprised him with it. Things that had you feeling like you were growing closer to each other.

You weren't lying when you'd said that you loved the time you'd spent together.

But you couldn't bring yourself to stay with a murderer.

“I was told that you – you've killed a lot of people,” you began, “I don't understand why you would do that when you've always been so good to me. I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't shown proof.”

Chrollo was still holding your hand, but when no response came from him, you continued.

“I don't want to cause you any trouble,” you said to him, “I don't have any plans to talk to the police or anything – I don't even have the video, so it's not like I'd have proof even if I did go to them. It'd be my word against yours, and I'm pretty sure they'd believe you over me. So it'd be for the best if we both forgot about each oth-”

His grip on your wrist became tight enough that it hurt, and you were cut off as you let out a small squeak of pain.

The instant you made that noise his grip lessened, and he went back to caressing your skin. There was no acknowledgment of what just happened, however, as he appeared to be deep in thought.

Outside the weather finally broke and small droplets of rain were starting to come down against the windows of the cafe. It wasn't too bad now, but it seemed likely that the storm would become worse before long.

When the waitress returned to the table for the payment you had hastily left out for her, she didn't notice anything amiss with you. Likely because Chrollo distracted her by engaging in more conversation.

She returned to the back not long after, and then he spoke again.

“You've been rather cruel today, love.”

“.... Cruel?” you asked.

“Bringing me to this place with the intention of dumping me despite the times we spent with each other here,” Chrollo explained, “as if you wanted to ruin the memories that came from here.”

“That – it wasn't – I wasn't trying to do that,” you stuttered, “I just thought.... Maybe things would be okay if we spent one last nice day together and ended everything on a happy note.”

He wasted no time in responding to that.

“Are you saying that because you genuinely wanted me to be happy, or were you trying to ensure that I wouldn't retaliate against you after?”

…..

There was no doubt that your expression upon hearing that question told him everything. That, coupled with how clammy your hand felt while still being gripped by his gave him every answer he needed:

You were just trying to save your own skin.

After a few more moments of silence, Chrollo spoke.

“I think it's time we were leaving, love.”

With that, he finally let go, standing after exiting the booth before immediately holding his hand out to you once again. And as you once again had very little choice in what to do, you took it, allowing him to help you to your feet.

You left the cafe with your hand in his, the bell above the door ringing above you as you ventured out into the rain. Chrollo turned to the right upon exiting the building and began to lead you over to where he had parked his car.

So he was going to drive off with you, and then......

“.... What happens now?” you asked, “what are you going to do to me?”

“Keep an eye on you, for the most part,” Chrollo answered, “suffice it to say you won't be going out anytime soon.”

“What.... What do you mean?”

“Don't start believing your own lies, love,” he said, “ you know exactly what I mean.”

“But.... What about my job? They'll notice if I stop going in for work,” you replied.

“You'll be quitting.”

“So then.... You're going to make me stay with you?”

“It was about time we moved to that stage anyway,” said Chrollo.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head as you said “I can't do that. Please Chrollo, just let me go.”

“I told you earlier, love,” he said as he led you to the car, “changing your tone and being polite isn't going to do much for you.”

“But-”

He interrupted you to ask “you said the video you saw was one where I slit a man's throat?”

While hesitant, you still nodded.

“And you want to argue with me after seeing that?” he continued.

It dawned on you what he was getting at, and your voice was a whisper when you asked “so you really are going to kill me?”

“Of course not, love. You dying has never been an option,” he said.

“But I can't say the same for whoever showed you that video.”

It clicked then.

“I'm – I'm not going to tell you,” you said.

“It doesn't matter much if you won't tell me; I'll find out regardless,” Chrollo answered, “but depending on your actions right now, I might be willing to show mercy on them.”

“..... You mean you won't hurt them?”

He nodded.

“But that all depends on what you do now,” he said, “and whether or not you get into the car willingly or if I need to force you inside.”

With that, he opened the passenger's side door for you and after turning his attention back to you, he finally let go of your wrist. You instinctively held your hand up against your chest, partially from the relief that came when he finally stopped touching you, and partially so he couldn't grab you as easily again. At least, not by your wrist, anyway. Chrollo could easily still grab you by the shoulder and force you into the car, and you were anticipating that would be what happened next.

Except he didn't do anything. And when you looked to him while he still held the car door open, he didn't say anything to you; he only continued to look at you expectantly.

…. Ah. Right. He'd just said it.

You getting in willingly meant you getting in on your own.

Him letting you go like that was probably a test, you noted. If you were going to try and take advantage of the fact that he'd let you go and try to run, or if you really were going to cooperate with him. It'd also tell him how much you really cared about the friend that you wanted to protect.

As much as you found yourself wanting to run, you doubt you'd get far at all if you tried it.

So you climbed into the car just as the rain began to come down harder.

Chrollo shut the door after you.

Moments later he was in the driver's seat, buckling his seat belt before starting up the engine. He then looked over to you, and after a moment he reached over you to grab the seat belt to your side and secure you to the seat as well.

“.... Sorry,” you mumbled.

“You don't need to apologize, love,” he said, “though a 'thank you' would have been sufficient.”

“.... Thank you.”

He didn't respond as the car was pulling out of the space and onto the road. With the turns he took on the next few streets, you could tell that he was taking you back with him to his apartment. Just like he'd said. Where you wouldn't be allowed out for a time. Just like he'd said.

And as for your friend......

…. While you'd done as he'd wanted and got into the car on your own, it had taken you a little bit to actually do that.

Was that enough reason for him to kill them?

You cleared your throat in an effort to make sure the words came out as clear as they could.

“I'm sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“For being..... Cruel to you,” you answered.

He hummed.

“I don't know how much I believe that, love,” he said, “it seems more likely you're only saying that as a way to try and appease me.”

….. There was no point in arguing, and you hung your head while biting your lip as you wondered if you'd just made a horrible mistake in saying anything else to him.

The car came to a stop at a light, and it was then that you felt his hand grasp yours once again. When he pulled your arm towards him, you didn't resist and allowed him to do what he wanted. Then his lips came into contact with your skin once more before he spoke.

“It's alright, love,” he told you, “we can get through this.”

“And with a little bit of time, I'm sure we can get to the point where you can apologize and actually mean it.”

You looked to him then, your eyes meeting his as he still held your hand to his lips.

And when you made eye contact, Chrollo simply smiled and kissed your hand once more.

[crescenthistory]

i found a home, she's beautiful

Pairing: Lee (Bones & All) x Reader

Summary: Lee feels compelled to visit Kayla, and brings you along for the first time. It is as awkward as it's sweet, and it leads to him finding more words about how he feels.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: not proofread, typical bones&all understated atmosphere, kayla and lee have issues, sibling tension, statements of love, hints at Bad Childhoods, gender neutral reader

Note: the lee and reader in this fic is assumed to be the same as in you and i, we've grown comfortable here (might revisit and edit this later who knows!)

***

It has been hours since you crossed the state line, and you can feel the air thickening, carrying the scent of earth and the remnants of a summer that hasn’t quite let go yet. Lee drives with one hand on the wheel, his other drifting between your knee and the gear shift, a soft but solid reminder of his presence. Despite his many hours on the road, he remains unable to sit still for long, but no matter what position he ends up in, his skin is never more than an inch away from yours. 

He hasn’t said much since the last gas station, a few miles back. Nothing, really, beyond repeating the basics about the town you’re headed to. 

“Three more miles,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like the words are a way to steady him.

Your gaze shifts from his steering wheel hand to his side profile, mentally caressing its edges, smoothing over the hard line of his jaw and the tension that rides up his shoulders. It doesn’t necessarily bother you that he is quiet, despite all the chaos of him, he has always had this stillness about him. He carries a world of things he never lets anyone see, only recently letting you slip further and further in through the cracks. Today, though, this town – there’s something else. You don't push. A rhythm settles between you in the last spurt of the drive, the kind that lets the silence speak when words don’t know how. You’ve been through enough with Lee to know when he is trying to brace himself for something.

You have met others from Lee’s past before, people he cares about, or once did. They always come with complications. They remind him of things he has spent years trying to forget. Kayla, though, she is different. She is important in ways he can’t put into words, you can only decipher the look in his eyes. Love, longing, guilt – wishful thinking, likely about what could have been. From the way Lee’s knuckles whiten on the wheel, it’s clear that seeing her again is something that carries more weight than even he is ready to admit.

“You nervous?” he asks suddenly, eyes flicking toward you for a brief second. He had felt your gaze on him.

“A little,” you admit, though your voice stays soft. “But you’re nervous too.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The sentiment is still nice. “Yeah,” he says, almost too quietly for you to hear. He flexes his fingers as he speaks.

He had gotten off the phone with her in a booth a week back. It was a routine you had started picking up on, a cycle spanning about a month or two. The tension in Lee would build, he would lose a bit of his carelessness and free spirit, and eventually he would find some way to call her. It was pretty much anyone’s guess whether he would come back to you looking like a weight was lifted off him or even more guilt-wreaked than before. Either way, he always had a more genuine smile on his face and would pull you in tight, regardless of where you were.

You had asked him once, when he seemed to be particularly weighed down by his thoughts, if he had thought about calling home. He had stared at you for a minute, searching your face, before chuckling and kissing you, smile against your lips. It wasn’t unusual for him to not answer your questions like that, it was only fair considering you did the same. Shutting him up with a kiss was arguably your favourite activity.

The week after, he asked you if you would want to join him to visit Kayla anytime soon. He was a bit sheepish, so you knew it was important to him, and you were on the road within the hour.

The town comes into view, small and rundown, the kind of place that doesn’t ask much of its residents, just expects them to stay. It is the kind of town that raised Lee, and the kind he has always been running from. The houses are old, their paint faded under years of sun and neglect, and the main street looks deserted, as if life itself has slowed to a crawl here. You see the past everywhere – the echoes of what once was, the weight of what remains. You can only imagine what Lee sees.

He pulls into a gravel driveway in front of a modest house. The front yard is overgrown, the grass wild and unruly like it has given up trying to stay neat. It reminded you oddly of him, wild and beautiful, but you didn’t tell him. You take in the place through the car window, it feels abandoned but lived-in, in that way small towns sometimes do when people hold on to homes long after they have stopped taking care of them. The house is quiet, but you can see a curtain twitch at one of the windows, a small sign of movement.

Lee kills the engine, the silence settling thick around you both. Neither of you make a move to get out, but your hand sneaks over to hold his tightly. He squeezes back, his gaze remains trained at the front door, his jaw working as if he is chewing on words he is not ready to speak. You can feel the energy rolling off him, a nervous undercurrent that makes the air in the truck feel heavy.

“She will be so happy to see you,” you whisper, thumb stroking over the back of his hand.

“She always is,” he says, voice somehow already laced with melancholy. Then he laughs a bit before adding, “and then she gets real pissed it took me so long.”

“Before she goes back to happy again. It will be fine.”

“She… she’s gonna like you,” Lee says suddenly, knocking himself out of his trance and finally looking over at you.

A part of you wants to just remain tough for him in that moment. Another, louder one knows you know each other too deeply by now to not share the intimacy in that moment together fully. You try to not hold back your feelings anymore, even if it’s tempting.  “What if she doesn’t?”

His usual dark eyes soften and his lips twitch into something that might’ve been a smile if it weren’t for the storm brewing just beneath the surface. “She will.”

You nod, letting your trust help ease the atmosphere for him. You give his hand another squeeze, signalling that you’re ready.

Lee sinks back in his seat and exhales, long and slow, before opening the truck door. You exit yourself, hopping down and immediately slammed by a wall of heat. It smells oddly similar to the town you grew up in, and you shake the thought as best as you can, rounding the truck to follow Lee. The steps to the front door are uneven and squeak when you shift your weight, as you stand just behind him as he hesitates just for a second before knocking.

A beat. Then the door opens, and there she is.

Kayla looks almost exactly like you imagined – tall, lean, with strong features softened only slightly by time. She is older than in the grainy pictures Lee drag around, you can see she is beginning to step into adulthood, while still clinging onto her younger self. She has Lee’s eyes, sharp and focused, though hers carry a different weight than his. Maybe it’s the years. Maybe it’s the fact that she stayed while he left.

“Lee,” she says, her voice a mix of surprise and something that sounded like relief but not quite. “You’re late.”

“Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t, right?” Lee jokes, his voice quieter than usual, like he’s not sure how to navigate this moment. Still, he moves in for a hug, holding her tight for a few seconds before stepping back with a half-hearted grin.

Kayla’s eyes shift to you, appraising but not unkind. She takes a moment, looking back and forth between you and Lee, like she is trying to figure out exactly who you are, or maybe what you mean to Lee.

She apparently figures it out as she says, only a few seconds after the silence turned awkward, “You must be the one Lee’s told me about. He said he hoped you’d join. I’m Kayla.”

“Uh yeah, I hope that’s me at least. Nice to finally meet you,” you try to joke, feeling the air between you both settle into something slightly more comfortable. 

Lee laughs a bit at that, introducing the two of you more formally before moving to step inside the house, nudging you slightly to get you to join him.

Kayla steps back to give you space to move in, and the smell of something cooking hits you immediately, it smells warm and familiar, like roast chicken and herbs. The kind of smell that reminds you of homes you have never had but wished for, a stark contrast to the harsh realities you and Lee survived for so long.

The inside of the house is small and worn, but it feels much more alive than the outside. You can see traces of Kayla in every corner – the carefully organised bookshelf, the faded quilt draped over the couch, the photos lining the walls. It’s a place built from years of history, from roots Lee never wanted but still has. 

“Mom’s still away?” Lee calls from the living room, as he walks around, fingers barely grazing over anything he walked past, taking it all in.

“Yeah, she’s got some shit going on nowadays,” Kayla yells back from the kitchen, a bit louder than necessary given the small space and open doors. “All of us do, don’t we?”

Neither of you answer. You felt kind of out of place still, like you were one part of Lee wandering through another, and he was busy staring at all the pictures framing the doors.

“Sit,” Kayla says, gesturing to the small kitchen table. “I made us dinner, assumed you hadn’t had any.”

You give her a soft smile, helping her out with carrying over the final things to the table. You glanced over at Lee, but his eyes were everywhere else. He has always been good at hiding when things get too close to the bone, but you can see the way his shoulders are stiff, the way his fingers curl into fists before he shoves them into his pockets. He doesn’t like this house – but when he looks at Kayla, he does soften a little. 

He eventually sits down in the chair beside yours, once everything is on the table, muttering some quiet thank yous to his sister. It’s simple, but it smells good, like the kind of meal that’s meant to fill more than just your stomach. You eat in relative silence at first, the clink of silverware and the hum of the old refrigerator filling the room. It’s not necessarily awkward, but there’s a tension underneath it all, like something’s sitting between Lee and Kayla that neither of them know how to address yet.

After a few minutes, Kayla clears her throat. “So… how long are you two staying?”

Lee’s fork hovers over his plate for a second before he answers. “Just for the night.”

Kayla’s expression tightens, just for a second, but then she nods, her face smoothing back into something unreadable. She stands to clear the plates, and you stand to help, but she waves you off, insisting, "I've got it."

Lee’s gaze follows her and his fingers tap restlessly against the table, a sure sign that he’s trying to work through something in his head.

“You’re still running,” Kayla says suddenly, not looking at him as she rinses a plate under the tap. Her voice is steady, but there’s something sharp underneath it, like she’s been holding onto those words for a long time.

Lee’s fingers stop tapping. His eyes harden. “Not running. Just an ongoing adventure.”

Kayla turns off the water, drying her hands slowly. She turns to face him, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. “You’ve been keeping to yourself for a long time, Lee. I thought maybe… maybe one day you’d come back for real.”

His jaw clenches, and you can feel the tension rising between them, thick like smoke. “I ain’t never been good at staying.”

“No,” she says, her voice softening, “you haven’t.”

“And I’m not by myself anymore anyway,” Lee adds tentatively, gaze finally shifting over to you. You smile back at him and it’s like something in his face settles.

Kayla seems to lull over his last comment. The silence that follows is heavy, but it shifts from the heaviness of a thundercloud to that of a thick wool blanket. There’s a rawness in the air, like they’re finally getting close to the heart of it, even if it hurts.

“You’re still my brother, no matter how much adventurin’ you need to do,” Kayla says after a long moment. Her voice wavers, just for a second, before she steadies herself again. “I don’t need you to stay forever. I just need to know you’re okay. That you’re not just… wandering alone.”

You can see the way Lee swallows hard, the way his eyes flick to yours again before he says, with more conviction this time: “I ain’t alone.”

Kayla’s eyes soften as they follow his gaze, landing on you. Her mind’s turning is visibly written across her face, and though she clearly is not happy, she seems to grow more comfortable. Like she’s seeing something she hadn’t noticed before, something that settles the worry

“You ain’t alone,” Kayla repeats, more to herself now than to Lee, her voice quiet, almost relieved. She looks at you with a kind of guarded curiosity, as if she’s trying to understand what it is about you that makes him different, what’s tethered him when nothing else could. When she couldn’t.

You hold her gaze, steady and unflinching, a burning desire building in your chest to make her see that you do care about Lee, that you know him. Maybe even better than he knows himself sometimes.

The silence stretches for a beat too long, until finally, Kayla sighs and steps toward the table, pulling out the chair across from Lee. She sits down slowly, her elbows resting on her knees as she leans forward slightly, eyes fixed on her brother. The energy in the room shifts again, quieter, more vulnerable.

“I don’t need to know everything,” she says, voice softened but steady. “I get it. There’s parts of your life you can’t talk about… won’t talk about. But what I need to know is if you’re good – really good. Are you taken care of, Lee? Are you actually alright?”

Lee doesn’t answer right away. He exhales, long and slow, his shoulders tense as if the weight of the question is too heavy. You can feel him pulling inward, like he's trying to build walls again, but you reach across the table, resting your hand over his. His skin is warm, rough beneath your fingertips, and he turns his palm up towards you.

“I am,” he says quietly, a small smile beginning to spread. “I ain’t the same as I was, Kay. Not anymore. We live different now, it’s… it’s a good life.”

Kayla leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze flicking back to you. “You’ve done something for him,” she says, the words not quite a question but close enough. “I can see it.”

“I think we’ve done something for each other,” you reply softly, your thumb brushing over the lines of Lee’s hand.

Kayla watches you both for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as if she’s still trying to wrap her head around this new reality, this version of her brother who’s not just running anymore. Maybe there’s a part of her that is jealous that even this version is not fully within her reach, or maybe she’s just relieved that he has reached this stage. Whatever it is, her features soften in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“I’m glad,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think he’d ever find it.”

Lee clears his throat, the sound breaking the momentary silence, and shifts in his chair. He’s not used to being the centre of attention like this – used to anyone seeing through him so easily. You can feel the discomfort radiating off him, but before he can slip back into the safety of silence, Kayla leans forward again.

“I’m not gonna stop worrying about you, Lee,” she says, her tone serious but not unkind. “You can’t ask me to. You’re my brother. But if you’re telling me you’ve found something… someone, I’ll take that. I’ll take knowing you ain’t just a drifter anymore.”

Lee’s eyes flick to hers, a strange sort of emotion flickering in them before he nods, almost imperceptibly. He’s never been one for big gestures or long speeches, and this – this quiet, raw acknowledgment – is about as much as he can give right now. Kayla seems to understand that.

She stands, crossing to the sink, and for a moment, the tension lifts just a little, like they have found some kind of middle ground.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know, I always do,” Kayla says softly, rinsing off a plate. “But if you’re taken care of, I can live with that. I’m just… I’m just glad you came back, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“I’ll always come back for you, Kayla,” Lee finally says. “Even if it’s just for a little while.”

A half-hearted smile spreads across his lips; and when she mirrors it, you truly see the resemblance between the two.

Lee moves throughout the kitchen, his shoulders relaxing more and more, eyes still trained on his sister, drinking her in. You wonder if he’s realising how much she has grown as well, if he is comparing her to childhood memories drifting through his head. You hope they’re not all bad. By the way his eyes soften as he watches her move around the kitchen, you know they can’t be. This place, this house – it’s never going to be his home again, but it was once, and that’s something.

The conversation shifts to lighter things as the three of you move to the living room. Small talk about the town, updates on old neighbours, people Lee knew growing up. The less heavy the subject, the more you can feel Lee opening that part of him up, and your heart tinges as you watch how Kayla revels in it, knowing you see it more often than she likely ever will again. You can feel the lingering sadness in Kayla’s voice when she talks about some of old memories and people, some who have passed, some moved on, while others stayed stuck in this small town. Beyond the sadness, though, there is a strength in her, a quiet resilience that feels familiar in the way Lee holds his own burdens. 

It is late when you finally step outside, the heavy darkness of the countryside settling around you like a blanket. Lee’s hand finds yours as you walk back to the truck, loosely interlocking your fingers. The night is warm, the hum of cicadas filling the air. In that darkness, you can at last sense his true comfort, his belonging.

You climb into the truck, the door creaking as Lee slides in beside you. For a moment, you both just sit there, letting the weight of the day settle. The house behind you is dark, but you know Kayla’s still awake in there, probably watching you through the curtains.

“You alright?” you ask quietly, leaning your head back against the seat, letting it loll to the side to keep your eyes on him.

Lee doesn’t answer right away. His hands rest on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t start the truck. Instead, he stares straight ahead, his brows furrowed like he is working through something in his head. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he turns to look at you, his eyes soft but intense, like he is trying to convey something he doesn’t know how to say.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I think I am.”

The words are simple, but they carry a weight you can feel deep in your bones. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. There is something in the way he looks at you, something raw and unguarded, that makes your chest tighten.

“She’s right, you know,” Lee whispers, his thumb brushing your jawline. “I was runnin’ for a long time. But…” He pauses, his eyes searching yours, like he’s afraid of the weight of what he’s about to say. “I don’t feel like I gotta run no more. Not with you.”

You smile at his expression of affection, heart blooming with how him that statement was. He often does not say things outright, but right now, in this quiet space, it feels like he is giving you everything he has.

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a brief second, letting yourself breathe him in. “You don’t have to run,” you murmur. “Not with me.”

When you open your eyes, Lee’s watching you with that same intensity, his eyes darker than usual, but softer somehow too. “Part of me wishes I could stay here, y’know, for Kayla? Maybe not here, I don’t think I would ever be fully embraced in this town again, but… I can’t picture it. This isn’t my home anymore, nowhere specific can be my home again.”

A soft smile remains around your lips as you listen to him speak, giving him the space he needs to express himself. 

His voice drops to barely above a whisper, and the words feel like they are for you alone. “You… you’re my home now.”

The confession settles in the space between you, wrapping itself around your heart like a promise. It is not the kind of thing Lee says lightly, not the kind of thing he’s ever let himself believe in before, but with you, it’s different. You are different.

You lean over the centre console, pressing your forehead against his, your fingers finding his and lacing together. The night stretches out around you, warm and still, and you know his words to be true. 

“Then let’s go home, shall we?” you whisper, to which his full-fledged Lee grin finally appears, the tension of the day washing away.

He turns the engine on, and backs out of the driveway and onto the road – the one that belongs to just the two of you. The one that never ends.

[bookofthegear]

You’re an Art History major! You know your Early Baroque from your Rococo and your Byzantine from your Etruscan. Your guidance counselor was a little worried that it might not be quite the most useful field for an adventurer, but you’ll show Mrs. Gerald! You’ll show them all!

…Ahem.

Actually, it was while doing research on your major that you first learned of the clockwork labyrinth. Eland the Younger’s great lost work inspired generations of forgers purporting to have finished it, some of which are quite lovely in their own right. You did a paper on it. Then another one. Then you may have gotten a trifle obsessed.

The finch waits patiently through your internal monologue, then reaches under his wing and extracts a tiny card, which he offers to you. In a minuscule font, it reads:

James Finchington IV, Esq.

“But you can call me Jimmy!” the finch assures you, via interpretive dance.

Dungeon finches are a unique breed, the adventurer’s answer to the coal miner’s canary. They are highly intelligent, loyal, and brave, and up until recent budget cuts, Wentworth graduates were all assigned one upon graduation. (Now they give you a compass. It’s a good compass, but it’s no finch.) You weren’t expecting to see one here. Also, you have no idea where he was keeping that card.

“My dad told stories about this place,” Jimmy explains. “I’ve been waiting for someone to find it so I could see it for myself.” He gestures with his wings, somehow expressing the difficulty of a small finch carrying a light source.

You, of course, have a lantern. Actually, you’ve got a lot of gear. The standard adventurer’s kit includes a lantern, bandages, water-resistant matches, trail rations, basic climbing gear, the aforementioned compass, and several usefully sized bits of string.

You’ve also got the knife your grandmother gave you when you left the cabbage farm.

[bannanasrus]

Should have picked a different Apartment

Contains Unwilling M/M vore with implied digestion

Going into the apartment that gave the thief bad vibes in the first place was the thief’s first mistake knocking over a vase was the second.

“Hell” cursed the thief hopping against hope, that no one had heard the crash of the vase.

Unfortunately for him the owner of the apartment had heard it, and very casually walked into the kitchen from the bedroom. “Can I help you” he asked in a polite manner that never the less held a threat.

“Oh hell”

“Indeed”

“Stay back I’m armed” warned the thief

“I quiver with fear” replied the owner a shark toothed grin spreading over his face

The thief swallowed, he hadn’t considered how big this guy really was when he’d made that threat but, taking him all in - he was about twice as wide as he was, and nearly a foot taller.

“Don’t even think about calling the cops!” He said attempting to gain some kind of control over the situation.

“Goodness me no” said the owner “I would never drag law enforcement here to deal with something so trivial”

“I’m trivial?” Asked the thief angrily in spite of his fear, yes he did have a reputation to uphold, in spite of the fact that he was currently frozen in fear.

“Yes” replied the owner “In a few hours, maybe a bit longer, you won’t be here” he considered something “Unless you want to get out right now that is, and save me the trouble”

“Hey! I think you’ve gotten mixed up with who is making the demands here!” snapped the thief. Less angry and more… huffy.

“Oh you are quite correct” replied the owner still smiling all the while - the same shark toothed calm smile.

“So, are you gonna give me all your money?” said the thief. It wasn’t actually a demand, it was a question. He really would have preferred to just get out of here, but his pride demanded that he at least make the attempt to leave here with some kind of valuables to put in his bag on the Balcony.

The owner stepped from the shadows, into an area that was bathed in moonlight and, shit thought the thief he really was Big, not big with a small b, but Big with a big B. He had short brownish hair which sat in a quiff, blue eyes, very lightly tanned skin, and it was impossible to not note his physique - he was positively herculean - the dressing gown he was wearing was only highlighting the thick round of his pecs which were visible at the top, and each of his thighs were as thick as a tree trunk - well maybe not literally but metaphorically yes!

“Is this a hold up?” he asked inquisitively still smiling “If it is, I feel the need of introductions, since we might be here a while - my name is Cecil”

“I won’t tell you mine!” replied the thief

“Very well” replied Cecil and thief could have sworn he added under his breath “It’s not as though food needs a name”

“Well I was just going to - ” quick as it had been said Cecil had moved forward at speed closing the distance between them, looming over the thief who gulped in fear again - he really didn’t want to see what this guy was going to do to him.

“Go?”

“Um”

“I wouldn’t like you to come all this way for nothing”

“No no, I want you to let me go”

“You know, I realised you looked familiar - though granted with those balaclavas every thief looks similar, but your build well that’s very distinctive - you robbed this building before didn’t you” his voice suddenly became very dangerous

The thief did remember it had been a few nights ago - an old lady’s apartment she had gotten up tried to take him, and he’d pushed her to the ground then he’d robbed her apartment. Not that there had been that much to take, only an antique necklace with a locket, it had been a waste though - too distinctive to get anything for it.

“Your silence, whether of fear or guilt is very confirming” said Cecil “Luckily for you, she isn’t dead” not thought Cecil that that’ll change your fate “But you did steal something of great sentimental value to her, a necklace, with a locket, made of gold?”

His and his boyfriend’s neighbour was an old, old lady who had once had to flee her home - the only treasure she had from it was in a necklace her parents gave to her as a child it contained a locket inside of which was a series of small locks of hair from her siblings. “Uh yeah” said the thief nervously, really regretting shoving that old lady now.

“Where is it?”

“In my bag”

“Which is where?”

“Oh the balcony”

Cecil moved to look at the dark balcony and saw the idiot thief attempting to lunge at him with a heavy lamp.

A few things happened in quick succession: first, Cecil dodged the swing, second the thief stumbled backwards losing his footing and finally third Cecil lunging forward like a python wrapped his huge arms around the thief opened his mouth wider than should have ben possible and shoved him headfirst into his mouth.

The thief shrieked in surprise and started kicking his legs trying to get out, but he was doomed Cecil slurped trying to see if any flavour came off of his meal. He disliked eating people like this he could never be sure that they were really clean, but oh well he was doing his part to keep crime off the street, and only part of his muscle came from the cheat of devouring people There was also the issue that clothes stood in the way of tasting the guy properly, there wasn’t much meat on him anyway. Sometimes - infact most of the time he preferred them this way - lean and mean easy to subdue though they still kicked up a storm in his gut speaking of which.

Angling his head back to help gravity do the rest he grabbed the socks and shoes off of the thief's feet and tossed them to the one side. In a few seconds the thief was curled in the stomach of Cecil whose dressing gown came loose exposing his tan thief filled gut and who let out a loud deep belch and moaned.

“you ate me, you actually ate me!!” Yelled the thief

“You tried to kill me with a lamp buddy” said Cecil

There were footsteps and in stepped Blake who merely sighed at Cecil’s gut. Whilst Cecil sat down on the sofa and spread his legs - the better to accommodate the expanse with.

“hey darling, said Cecil grinng at Blake who walked into the room and sat beside him

“it’s the middle of the night” replied Blake grumpily

“hey I didn’t choose what time this ruffian decided to perform home invasion!” Said Cecil cheerily

“you are way too upbeat at all times” grumbled Blake as he reached out with one hand and began rubbing Cecil’s stomach coaxing up another belch

“You are way too good at this” sighed Cecil dropping his head back and wrapping an arm around Blake’s torso pulling him against the dome of flesh that bulged occasionally with the struggles of its unwilling occupant in spite of himself Blake grinned and began rubbing with both hands as he shifted himself to straddle Cecil earning him a grunt of surprise and a belch as Cecil placed a hand on either side of Blake to keep him there. Blake leaned forward and tenderly kissed Cecil on his lips Cecil responded by wrapping his arms more firmly about Blake and giving a small moan of pleasure as Blake’s hands continued to massage him feeling as though he had found a good sized pocket of air Blake leaned away from Cecil as a gurgle starting in his stomach rapidly made it’s way up and out of Cecil’s mouth who had been sitting there eyes slightly heavy lidded

“Bouarrrrrrp” he moaned and Blake immediately fell back upon him “You are so so hot when you are like this” he whispered in Cecil’s ear “all full and belching” Cecil loved the praise from his gorgeous Boyfriend but…

“I’m hardly full” he replied “in fact I could scarf down 2, 3 more of these guys no problem” he whispered in Blakes ear he belched again smaller this time yet he chuckled as he saw Blake blush and giggle “in fact I still could do with another snack” he bit gently on Blakes ear relishing how it made Blake tingle all over “For some reason whenever I eat you - I feel at my fullest, my belly stretched to the max like I’ve eaten a full buffet plus some assholes that bother us on the way home - all of that just from you stretching me out” his voice was filled with desire, but it softened to gentle tenderness “all that from just you - my favourite 5 star meal”

“Cecil…” said Blake his hands moving from Cecil’s gut to his face “you are the most beautiful man” he kissed him moaning as Cecil’s hands began to grip his body until they were interrupted by a voice from Cecil’s gut

“Ewww, excuse me if you are going to, engage in activities then show me some respect and let me out”

“How are you still alive?” asked a gobsmacked Blake to Cecil’s gut “That last belch should have taken you to the Flats in the sky” he looked at Cecil who was similarly surprised

“Wait what the hell?” Yelled the thief

“Hey buddy good food shouldn’t talk” snapped Cecil annoyed that his time with Blake was being taken up by this asshat.

“I’m not food” shrieked the thief shoving violently against Cecil’s stomach walls

“Stop speaking and squirming” Said Cecil “Squirming’s all well and good at the start really gets me going - but after a while it’s just like shut up accept your fate and digest”

“You’re going to digest me?!!!” Shrieked the thief kicking again more violently

“Stop that” groaned Cecil grasping his stomach and belching again Blake slid off of his lap and onto the floor. It was surprisingly painful getting kicked - usually it didn’t hurt this much

“Hell no, Let me out - you can’t do this”

“You shouldn’t have broken into our Flat buddy”

“I am not your Buddy” yelled the thief shoving again at Cecils stomach walls this time actually hurting him more than quite a bit, damn it felt like getting stabbed - please tell me he didn’t actually have a weapon he thought to himself

“Ow” he whined “stop”

“Ha ha ha ha” not so confident now are you - you stupid greedy musclebound glutton”

“Stop hurting him” snapped Blake getting off the floor and ramming both hands onto the squirming mass Blake may not have had the ability to devour people and turn them to mush - but he certainly had the power to deliver a fierce push the thief yelped as we felt the shove and Cecil let out a loud rumbling belch. “BOUARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP Damn” ,he said “I must have gulped down a lot of air with that guy”. His hands returned to a much less engorged stomach.

“Would explain why he lasted so long and how despite being so scrawny he was able to give you such a bloat” said Blake whose own hands were on each of Cecil’s broad shoulders and were tracing down each of his biceps.

“Yeah” sighed Cecil “I mean he wasn’t so much scrawny as lean and thin”

“How did he taste” asked Blake

“Not of too much” replied Cecil “I was more eager to get him down than to taste him” Blake’s hand returned to and rubbed Cecil’s stomach feeling the lumps were moving weakly but not for much longer he thought

“Blake” asked Cecil

“Yes”

“Can you check the balcony please? This guy said he left his bag with Miss Olgania’s Locket in it”

“I will do that once I’m sure he can never rob Miss Olgania or us or anyone ever again” said Blake leaning forward and kissing Cecil

“Mmmmm” moaned Cecil moving forwards “My gut, my muscles - the most secure prison”

”Just right” Replied Blake smiling as his hands returned to his stomach.

Miss Valecia Olgania was aged somewhere in her seventies though she would never admit it insisting that she stopped aging at 39! She had grey hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head and wore a patterned black and white skirt and a pink top.

Upon hearing a knock at her door she moved over to it and after checking the spy-hole and seeing that it was her downstairs neighbours Cecil and Blake she unlocked, unchained and opened the door with a smile.

“Miss Olgania, it is our pleasure to return to you the locket that was stolen by the thief” said Cecil presenting the locket which was indeed within the black bag that the thief had said it was in, alongside several other presumably stolen goods which they had handed over the the police.

“Oh you really both are the kindest gentlemen!” Said Miss Olgania gladly taking the locket in her hands and holding it to her chest

“We just do our part for the community” Said Cecil

“and you are a part of it Miss Olgania” added Blake smiling

“But how did you get it back?!” Said Miss Olgania slightly puzzled - but only slightly.

Cecil laid a hand over the slight increase in thickness in his abs that was the only indication of his meal “let’s just say that he won’t be bothering you or us again any time soon.”

Miss Olgania simply smiled and laughed “Well all I can say is thank you my dears, and an invitation to my humble abode for a most ordinary meal is most certainly in order!” She invited them in and closed the door bustling over to where her calendar hung on a small hook and pulling it off, shall we say Friday night between 5 and 6?”

“That sounds wonderful said Cecil”

“Concurred” said Blake grinning

“And while we’re here why not have a cup of tea?”

“why not indeed” they chorused - after all who would refuse a cup of tea from such a nice lady?

Well I know someone who might but since he’s now part of someone who would never do so - I think we can leave him out!

Thank you so much for reading if you’ve made it this far

I very much hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments about grammar and spelling and punctuation would be very very welcome - I would much rather know if I’ve made a stupid mistake than not know!

[floorbe]

hihi!! i was wondering about something in BG3.

i have tattoos. two on my wrists (one's a moth and the other a pretty mushroom), and a thirteen inch tattoo along my back of the phases of the moon.

how would Astarion react to seeing his lover's tattoos? the scared part of my mind feels like he'd be offended, but i'd also like to think that tattoos are a way for me to take control of my own self and feel in control of my own body again, and he'd see that.

so... what's your verdict??

great question anon!! also ur tatts sound so sick omg... ive been wanting to get one lmfao

-When he first meets you he may insult them out of his own frustration. Why do you get to fuck up your body however you want when he can't even stand in the sunlight he longs for? It's unfair.

-Unfair that you get to do what you want. Unfair that you got to choose what was carved into your skin when he-- ah. There's the root.

-The insults die down the longer you travel together and the closer you two become. As he starts to realize that he can take himself back (and when he realizes that you respect him-- when was the last time he'd felt that?) he sees your tattoos as less of a slight against him and more of a... possibility?

-After a while, you'll instead catch him studying your tattoos when he thinks you aren't looking. This is when the change between insulting your tattoos to complimenting them begins.

-Once past his own frustrations, Astarion would be very supportive! We've seen him when you get Loviatar's blessing- this guy is all for pain and reward (though mostly the pain)!

-He will 100% force you to take him with you to your next tattoo session just to watch and cheer. Wince for him, would you? It's terribly boring watching someone get drawn on, throw him a bone!

-(Nevermind the fact that he was the one who insisted on coming along, but who is Astarion if not dramatic?)

-As much as he supports your decision and regularly tells you how utterly delectable your inked skin looks ("Gods, your skin practically glows in the moonlight, dear... Might I have a nibble? Just to see if it tastes as delicious as you look, of course."), a part of him still feels... bitter.

-He'll feel a bit bittersweet about it if it's a sentimental tattoo you've gotten, but even moreso if it was an impulse or fun decision.

-A part of him will always long to decorate his own body to his own wants- to finally get what he likes on himself. He wants the choice to fuck up his own body if he wants to.

-...He isn't ready for that quite yet, though. Tattoos remind him too much of the runes already on his back- particularly the pain aspect. He's heard you describe the sensation and isn't keen to try it out just yet.

-Don't be fooled, this doesn't mean he won't let you draw up some designs for him. In fact-- he'll demand you to draw a picture of some ideas for him- he must see what you've thought up for him! What do you think would decor him well?! Make him even more beautiful? Oh, you must show him!

-If you offer to actually tattoo him he'll wave you off playfully with a comment on "my skin is flawless already-- why tarnish it?" or a "darling, you wound me... here I thought you loved me for me"

-Not yet, it seems. But one day, you're both sure, he'll take you up on it.

-He already lives out his dreams of living in the sunlight through you- and his dreams of being a hero, being publicly adored, powerful... why shouldn't he live out this part of himself through you, too?

-At least until he's ready for his own tattoo. Which, based on how he's been eying your ink for the past week and rubbing his own wrist, seems sooner than you think.

[aboutcustardcreams]

For love, we gladly pay the price

Summary: As Lady Death struggles with an impossible choice (flashback), you and Agatha find yourselves entangled in a very awkward/ uncomfortable situation. The question here is: what does the Road really want from you?

previous chapter

You made your decision– one each mother, in your place, would make. Your son is going to regain consciousness any moment now. And you made it possible. With your incredible power and stubbornness, you gave the boy another chance in life, a proper one. But at what cost?

“Please–” Rio never begged, yet there she was. You’d barely recognize her voice if you listened to it. “I could not persuade her to let him go, if anything– I encouraged her to save him from the start,” she confessed in a pained murmur. 

In the dimly lit hall stood the three sisters, their expressions stoic, yet contemplative giving the illusion that they could still be convinced into changing their mind. They had summoned Lady Death and that alone couldn’t mean anything good. 

Atropos, the eldest, stepped forward. “We can’t ignore what she has done,” her voice echoed like a thunder, taking up the entire space. Rio flinched, but didn’t back away. “Her defiance comes with a price. I’m sure your job has taught you that much, hasn’t it?” 

The Green witch’s jaw tightened, her teeth grinding at the words. Of course, she knew. She had known the moment the Fates discovered her secret; how she had hidden Nicky away, shielding him from the River of Souls he was meant to cross at birth. The punishment had been swift and merciless. She had endured it all in silence. Not a word of it ever passed her lips, neither to you nor to Agatha. Because nothing could have been done to change that anyway so why bother you and Agatha too?

Despite everything, her lips curled into a bitter, defiant smile. “she fulfilled the purpose she was born for. Necromancy is her gift. You can’t condemn her for who she is.”

Atropos’s eyebrows shot up as her head lightly lolled to the side. She let out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle at Rio’s tenancy. For being a Celestial being she surely looked quite small now. The other two shared a glance, their eyes lingered as to decide which of them would speak second, in support of their eldest. 

Lachesis, the middleborn, took a soft sigh as she approached. Her long golden skirt swept over the floor, leaving a trail of sparkle in its wake. “I understand your concerns for her– my sisters do, too. In spite of what you might think, we’re not heartless.”

Rio didn’t let her guard down, nor did she allow those ‘apparent’ hopeful words to get to her head, before learning more. “If that’s true, then spare her life.” 

The eldest let out a quiet chuckle. Three heads snapped towards her. “Oh, you’ve definitely gotten sentimental, Lady Death.” 

The witch’s heart started pounding in her chest at great speed, her throat clenched almost painfully as she tumbled out, “it’s my wife’s life we are talking about. I’m allowed to be worried about her.” 

Her mind spiraled, imagining the ruin your death would bring and not just to her, but to Agatha and Nicky. Eternity was a long, unrelenting road to walk with a heart that was very likely to shatter into pieces and bleed forever. Agatha, she knew, would never forgive her. And Nicky, her sweet, pure-hearted Nicky would grow up with that same resentment festering inside him. He’d nurture it, shape it into something raw, something dangerous, especially now that he shared the same magic as yours. 

“This is my domain,” she said, hands turning into fists. “It’s mine alone to determine when a life ends. You cannot interfere with that–” 

“I believe there’s a little bit of confusion here,” Atropos argued. Her eyes flicked to Clotho, who had swiftly moved to sit in front of the chassis, her delicate fingers spinning the shimmering thread within with practiced grace. The motion was almost hypnotic. Rio’s face fell, her frown deepened. Could that be your life Clotho was holding? 

“We do not mean to take your wife’s life before its time,” the youngest admitted. Her voice didn’t match the depths of her power, the way her fingers could create as much as destroy. 

“Contrary to your lover, my sisters and I know where we stand. We would never interfere with something that doesn’t concern us, so I must confess you, it’s not death we wish for the necromancer, but life–” 

Rio blinked in disbelief. “I don’t understand–”

“A tormented life,” Atropos corrected, with a grin. “Something you experienced in a way, but not quite.” 

“I’m sure you’re familiar with our distant cousins, Lady Death,” Lachesis added solemnly. 

Rio’s mouth parted in slight shock, a bitter sound slipped for her lips, “and you said you are not heartless?”

“I take that as a yes,” Atropos replied. Clotho kept her eyes focused on the thread, Rio couldn’t be sure, but she spotted a glimpse of hesitation in her posture. She was touching that thread ever so gently as if she was lulling a baby to sleep. Maybe she didn’t agree with her sisters’ decision, but being the youngest of the three, forced her to submit to their will and play along with it. 

“Clotho, please—” Rio’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not right. You must know that– you–”

“Do not try to manipulate our sister!” The eldest’s voice came out so loud and sharp, Rio flinched and had to cover her ears. 

The youngest swallowed lightly, as she averted her gaze, “I’m truly sorry, Lady Death. If it’s any consolation, the torment will not last forever,” she glanced at her sisters. 

Atropos nodded with a wave of her hand, “sure thing, sister. What were you thinking? Fifty years?” 

Rio’s heart picked up, “that’s insane!” She cried out. Her magic crackled dangerously around her. “She would never survive that and you know it!” 

“A fair compromise for her not to lose her mind and die would be between two and five years,” she admitted carefully. “As we already mentioned, we don’t want to kill her, right Atropos?” 

She grimaced, clearly displeased with the proposition. 

“I suggest two years,” Clotho tried. 

“You’re too soft, sister,” Atropos scolded her. 

“Please–” Rio’s knees dropped at this point. A part of her knew you could make it, however that was not enough reason for them to put you through that. Their cousins were no joke– she had known mortals who had wished to die in less than a month. And out of mercy, she had taken them to the other side. 

“I will accept the three years, and considering you were so adamant into being punished in her place, I want you, Lady Death, to curse her.” 

She looked terrified at the idea. Horrified even. “I-I can’t… I don’t want to…”  

“Oh but you will–” Atropos’ lips curved in a sinister grin. “Or shall we ensure she suffers far worse than what we’ve promised?”

Rio swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

She had known it would come to this. She had tried to warn you— both you and Agatha, but deep down, Lady Death couldn’t entirely blame you for ignoring her. Bringing Nicky back wasn’t a crime in your eyes, nor it broke the natural balance of all things. It was an act of love. The love of a mother. 

But the Fates didn’t see it that way.

This wasn’t about your actions, not really. 

No, their wrath wasn’t fueled by what you had done but by who you were and who you challenged without a second thought. You had challenged their authority and proved yourself more powerful than they dared admit, and they hated you for it. Well, Atropos sure did. 

Clotho gave Lady Death an apologetic glance, “behave wisely.” She didn’t speak, yet Rio heard her in her mind. 

“So, do we have a deal?” Lachesis asked, picking at her fingernails. 

Lady Death’s chest tightened as she stood. Those words would have haunted her for the rest of her existence, of that she was sure. “We do.”

-

Present time

“Feels like we just came out of Mount Olympus!” Teen muttered in awe, staring down at his robe-like ensemble: a rich blue tunic adorned with intricate golden embroidery around the neckline hem and sleeves. Underneath the tunic, he wore white, loose-fitting pants, cinched at the waist with a sturdy leather belt that held a small pouch and decorative golden chains. 

“Check me out–” Agatha purred, as she admired her reflection in one of the tall mirrors placed against the ivory walls. 

She wore an elegant chiton, a deep shade of purple that hugged her figure with effortless grace. Its fabric draped like liquid silk, hugging her waist and hips before cascading softly around her thighs. The asymmetrical shape of the chiton left one shoulder bare, which caused your mouth to go dry as soon as your gaze drifted there.

“Oh, I am.” You drew closer, a subtle grin on your face, as your arms draped around her waist, and your head peeped out her bare shoulder. 

You’re hidden behind her body– almost purposefully. You didn’t want to distract her with what you were wearing, not just yet. “If you’re not a celestial being, then I don’t know who is,” you purred, your lips a few millimeters from her ear elicited goosebumps to her skin. 

She watched your face, through the mirror and her cheeks darkened a bit. You’d recognize that look anywhere. She wanted to see you, needed to, so she spun around and as soon as she did, her mouth parted in awe. 

Your dress, though beautiful, had barely crossed your mind until now. But the way she was looking at you made you suddenly aware of every part of it. 

“Woah, I’m– you are…” 

You did a little twirl for her.  

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, a soft chuckle slipping from your lips. 

The top of your outfit fitted as if it had been sewn just for you: it was a white bodice with a V neckline, adorned with a thick belt of black and silver filigree. The balloon skirt, layered with a silvery overlay evoked the jew/elry in your hair and swirled like shadows over the black underskirt that peeked through with each movement you made. 

When her hand found the side of your cheek, you leaned in, eager for more contact, more of her warmth and she obliged, thumb tracing sweet patterns over your skin. 

“How can you be so beautiful?” She breathed out like in a daze. 

You pursed your lips at her compliment, then tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I could ask you the same thing-”

She pulled you even closer, taking a firm grip onto your waist. “You know, I think more and more that the Road appeared to test me, and only me.” 

A flicker of amusement flashed through your eyes. “We both know this trail is for me.” 

Her face dimmed at your words. The grip around your waist loosened a bit and you frowned. “Don’t do that,” you lifted her chin ever so gently, when she dropped her gaze onto the floor. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.” 

She tried to smile at your optimism, but her worries for you were eating her from the inside. “And let’s be real,” With your arms around her neck, you tried another tactic and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. “We make quite the hell of a team, don’t we?”

Her smile stretched into something far more genuine, making your heart swell with love at the sight. “The very best–” 

“Oh– There is wine after all,” Jen observed out loud, causing you all to turn towards her. There was a lovely cruet, sat invitingly on a low dining table. “And fresh fruits.” 

“Don’t touch it,” Lilia warned. “Could be poisoned.”

“Wasn’t going to–” she retorted, with an eye roll. “I’m not as desperate as someone else here…”

Your eyes narrowed at that jibe. 

Agatha shot an eyebrow at her and clicked her lips. “Careful there, Kale. Your obsession with me might be misunderstood as a crush.”

The witch made a ick sound, “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re hardly my type.”

“Course, I’m not,” she chuckled, with a wave of her hand. “That’s all the ladies say.” 

The others shared a quiet laugh, whereas Jen spun around and growled, trotting away from Agatha. 

You sighed and tiredly pinched at the bridge of your nose, before your eyes landed on Agatha’s again and you mouthed, “what was that?” 

She shrugged innocently, a playful grin tugged at her lips. 

“There’s something else here!” Alice called out after a minute. On an armchair lingered a piece of scroll, folded gracefully with a thin, red tape. 

You all circled the protection witch in a rush, eager to  figure out whatever was written on the paper she held. As she carefully unfolded it, the tension was palpable. Without realizing it, you leaned closer to Alice, your shoulder brushing against hers. You two shared a nervous glance before she started to read. 

She dared to grasp what none could hold. Each path and twist respond to our will. We wove the threads, but she cut the rope and stitched it back with cursed skill. The lies they spun must now unwind. The debt is due; your fate aligned. 

“What does it mean?” Teen asked, looking at each and everyone of you for clarity.  

“Well, I don’t know the details but you kind of challenged the Maiori, didn’t you?” Alice trailed, her voice soft, not accusing at all. 

It brought a tight smile on your face. At least she was trying to have some tact and tolerance. “I did, yeah. Or they challenged me. Depends how you look at it.”

Agatha’s brows met in a frown, as she surged forward to grab that piece of paper from Alice to take a second look at it. Was it a warning? A threat? What did it mean for you? Were you in danger?

Lilia and Jen shared a look, before the elder one spoke, “the cursed skill would be your power, commonly known as your silver,” she continued, giving a wave of her hand to help her reasoning. 

Your lips flattened. Correct, again. 

“It’s not cursed,” Agatha grumbled, flashing her a smarted glance. “It’s her. As simple as that. Her essence is necromancy and it’s about time witches– you all stopped harrowing her for it.”

“Lilia is just trying to help, Agatha–” Teen commented. 

“Exactly. I was merely paraphrasing,” the divination witch pointed out. 

“Of course,” Agatha mumbled, still looking irritated. 

You sighed, your fingers started to play with the tips of her hair. “It’s okay, really,” you added, calm as ever. “Plus it’s not that she wrote it. It’s just part of a puzzle…”

“I hate puzzles,” to Agatha’s remark, you couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.  

“If I may interject–” Teen stepped in, snatching the scroll from Agatha’s hands, not without earning a glare from her. “I don’t think this is only your trial. I mean the message addresses a ‘she’ at first, that could be you, but then, it mentions a ‘they’ and a ‘you’ so it probably refers to more than one person,” he looks up at Agatha, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Could it be you?”

She hesitated, “I’m not sure.”

“The lies they spun must now unwind–” Alice repeated the line, trying to make sense of it. 

You averted your gaze, eyes dropping on the floor for a moment. 

Jen’s head lolled to the side, suspicious. “Does it mean that… you lied to someone?”  

You gaped, then stuttered out, “N-no, what? It doesn’t make any sense,” a forced, nervous smile tugged at your lips. But it didn’t last. “It’s not clear… it’s–” you sighed, a tad exasperated. “We need more hints. This isn’t going anywhere.”

Agatha watched you closely, catching and worrying about your sudden discomfort. It was her turn to reach out to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jen stepped in before you could formulate a response. “Maybe it wants you to tell the truth about what happened during the Salem days?”

“Yeah,” Lilia agreed, with a nod. “Since we were told the wrong version of your story,” she added, although both you and Agatha could grasp the hesitation as she stressed on the word ‘wrong’. 

“Sweet.” The succubi witch let out a short, dark chuckle as she shook her head. “And if we didn’t want to share our story? Then, what?” She dared to ask, in a mocking tone. 

Alice sighed and folded her arms over her chest. “There could be consequences.” The sudden seriousness in her tone made Agatha recoil. 

“What kind of consequences?” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know. Maybe your girlfriend should fill us in,” Jen shot back, rather boldly. All eyes turned to Jen, your collective frown deepening. “I mean, she’s been here before, hasn’t she? Or was that just another lie?”

“As I’ve already explained,” Agatha replied, her voice clipped with irritation, her eyes refusing to look at her for obvious reasons, “the road is never the same. It shifts and changes depending on the witches who walk it.”

“Oh, great. So basically, you’re useless,” Jen deadpanned, her tone dripping with exasperation.

“I don’t see how you’re making yourself useful here, Kale,” she hissed back. Hadn’t Agatha been powerless, she would have blasted that witch against the nearest wall, or mirror. Depending on how badly she wanted her hurt. 

“Guys, stop–” you stepped in, the faint beginnings of a headache pulsed at your temples. You pressed your fingertips to them, rubbing in slow circles as you fought to stay calm. “Can we not tear into each other right now? I thought I made it clear– we are supposed to be working together.”

“It’s a hard task with a witch killer giving you eyes,” she mumbled, though everyone could catch the bitterness behind her tone. 

“It’s a pity your vocabulary is as rusty as your magic,” Agatha quipped mockingly. 

Jen growled. 

“Not helping–” you gave her a pointed look. 

She lifted both her hands in surrender, “alright, fine. I’ll be good.” 

You blew a raspberry. She could fool them, but not you. 

“Umm, as you were when you killed your coven?” Jen inquired. 

Agatha stilled, her jaw tightened and this time she said nothing for herself.  The witch in pink had been dancing on thin ice for far too long, pushing and prodding without care. But this—this was the last straw. Resenting Agatha’s behavior in the present was one thing, but dragging up her past and passing judgment without knowing a damn thing about her reasons? It pissed you off. 

So you snapped. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

The room froze, Jen flinched, Agatha… well, she appeared pleased for a second, considering you successfully gave poor Jen a fright and were able to shut her mouthy mouth.

"You are, without a doubt, the most infuriating, insufferable witch I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. And yet, somehow, I’m not spending every single second we’re stuck here reminding you just how deeply you irritate me. Nor, might I add, am I blasting you through these walls like you so thoroughly deserve—” Your hands trembled, and before you could stop it, magic surged through your palms, a darkish hue of gray loomed over your outstretched fingertips, desperate to be lashed out, but you managed to contain it… sort of. 

Teen flashed Agatha a worried look, silently prompting her to do something. She groaned and muttered something like ‘spoilsport’ before walking up to you. That’s when she noticed your eyes turn silver. 

“Love, come on now, look at me–” her voice sounded so soft to your ears, your eyes darted towards her, but only for a mere second before turning back to Jen. 

With a sigh, Agatha stepped in front of you taking up all your front vision, and when she did, her hands opted to cup your cheeks instead of holding your hands. It was not because she believed you’d hurt her. Quite the opposite. Why? Because she was a succubus. It was in her nature to steal magic. And yours was very available and very tempting at the moment. 

“Hush, please-” she bored into those beautiful silver orbs of yours and you into her blue ones. You caught her lips curling upwards, then. “You’re sexy when you’re mad, I’ll give you that,” as she predicted, your anger dissipated, and turned into slight amusement at her evident joke. She always knew how to make you laugh, even in a situation like that. 

“Atta girl–” When magic vanished from your palms, she took a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding, and then pulled you in a hug. 

Once you pulled away, you looked at the others, at Teen in particular who had his lips pursed in a grimace. Had you gone too far? Had you scared him? “I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered, embarrassed. 

Teen gave you a shy smile as to tell you that no harm was done. Same did Alice and Lilia. 

Jen remained quiet. 

“You should apologize to both,” Teen told her. 

The potion witch gave him a quizzical look, “w-what?”

“I second that,” Alice quipped, with a nod of her head. 

“I hate to admit it, but you poked the bear,” Lilia continued. “Well, bears.” 

Both you and Agatha shared a look. You chuckled at Lilia’s choice of words, also pleased with the fact that finally someone was taking your side. At last. 

“Fine, ugh– whatever,” the potion witch rolled her eyes and waved her hands in mid air. “I’m sorry, alright? I went too far.”

Agatha hummed, torn. “Say that like you mean it, toots–” 

“Don’t push it-” that’s all she said, before walking away from her, and from you. 

“We will take that,” you conceded calmly. 

You knew you’d have a hard time gaining Jen’s trust, so for now you accepted her not-so-felt apology and moved on. 

Lilia’s eyes landed on something she was sure wasn’t there before, or if it was, had sat still till now, unmoving. It was an hourglass, whose wedged white sand had just started to trickle slowly. She nervously cleared her throat, then. “You know, I’d really hate it if demons, snakes or whatever ambushed us, so… whenever you’re ready…” 

“Shit… alright. Okay!”

You slumped back against one of the couches arranged in a circle around the table laden with wine and fresh fruit. “I will take a glass after all,” you muttered, with a quiet, humourless chuckle. “Maybe two.”

Agatha sat down next to you, at your right, Teen at your left, followed by Alice and Jen. Lilia took a seat across from you instead. 

Your lover gave the wine a skeptical look, as she tumbled out, “I hope this isn’t the cheap stuff,” the glass in her hand filled to the brim on its own. So did yours. 

“As long as it’s not poisonous…” you retorted, taking a long, large sip.

[floef-likes-minecraft]

Work

“Good moring~!” Pearl started as she crossed the DHP parking lot with a pep in her step. It was a beautiful day, she had been up since the crack of dawn riding around the Server on Donkey (who is a mule) to deliver all sorts of letters and parcels. While Tango and Etho were still busy getting the entire mailing system online, she was happy to deliver more by hand.

Recently, the DHP had gotten an influx in mail having to be delivered to them and Pearl had made friends with the somewhat grumpy clerk that was sometimes maybe around. Today he was, for which Pearl was happy because that meant she could give him the mail personally instead of trying to get it into the building by shoving it under the broken door. The office was still under construction, so Pearl could forgive them for not even having a small mailbox.

“We’re closed,” Grian said. He was lounging outside, sitting against the white wall of the building and taking in the sun that crested just over the trees. He looked like he could use a bit more of that sun, but not everybody was as blessed as Pearl to have the best job in the world as a Postmaster and be outside all the time.

“Oh, I’m just delivering the mail,” Pearl answered cheerfully as she dug into her postbag. Everything was perfectly organized so it didn’t take long for her to grab out a stack with at least ten letters bundled together. “There you go, mister Grian, it’s always such a pleasure coming out here!”

When Grian didn’t take the bundle Pearl handed out to him, she just but the them carefully on the pavement next to him. He looked at them like they had said something foul to him, which he wouldn’t know until he actually opened them. Then, Grian looked up again to Pearl and a frown appeared on his face.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, rather rudely.

“It’s just that we barely have the chance to properly have a chat,” Pearl simply explained. “I’m not actually sure if the mailing system will be operational this far out, so I might have to keep coming here myself. Isn’t that great?”

“You really don’t have to,” Grian argued weakly, as he grabbed a paper cup with a steaming liquid from his side and set it to his lips to take a little sip. He pulled a face as if he didn’t much like the beverage, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s my job and I do it with pleasure,” Pearl assured him with a smile. “Isn’t it just great how a job can be a calling?”

“Can’t say I share that sentiment,” Grian sighed. He had to squint against the light of the sun to look at Pearl. “Look, if there is anything you want from me you’re going to have to come back when we’re opened.”

“Oh, no, don’t you worry your little cotton socks,” Pearl answered, waving her hand. “That is the beauty of mail, you can tend to it whenever you have the time! You can do it first thing when you open again, some work to look forward to!”

Grian opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but ended up just shaking his head slowly. He must’ve had a rather bad night of sleep to be in such a mellow mood, Pearl assumed. She couldn’t imagine moping around at her job like this, it was way to wonderful to waste a day with a bad mood.

“So… do you have any mail to send?” she continued when Grian wasn’t pushing his conversation forward. “Any replies you need to send out from the letters I’ve brought you last week?”

“Haven’t gotten to them yet,” Grian answered dryly. “We were closed.”

“Oh,” Pearl was caught of guard by that but regrouped quickly. “Well, just know that you can count on the Hermit Post & Co to deliver anything you need. I can even deliver important documents if you want, with signed handover and everything. I’ll give it my extra secure, personal attention.”

“Great,” Grian answered with a sigh. “Don’t you have more mail to deliver? I was kind of in the middle of something.”

He took another sip from his drink, which seemed to be the ‘something’ he was in the middle of doing.

“Nope,” Pearl answered cheerful, shifting to sit next to Grian with her face turned towards the sun. “But I can enjoy this wonderful sunlight together with you. Isn’t that great?”

“… I don’t get paid enough for this.”