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antiquarianfics · 9 months

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The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #tfatws!bucky x reader #tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

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savicals · 14 days

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New neighbour König x afab reader part 2

*König is your new neighbour that you thought mildly disliked you.

This ones for you @konigsandghostsslvt LMFAO ENJOY !!

PART ONE🫶

You managed a choked out “Thank you,” before he offered to take the both of you home.

You were pleasantly surprised to find out that he drives a Mercedes S-class, but you did expect an executive car. He dropped off your friend first for convenience, since he and you were neighbours.

He got out of the car and opened the door to let her out and even told her goodnight. What a gentleman.

Just as he was about to close the door, you called his name.

“König.”

He crouched down to see you inside the car and looked at you with curiosity.

“Why have you been so kind to us tonight?” You asked, returning his eye contact. “You don’t… You don’t talk to us. You don’t know us. You have no idea the kinds of people we are.”

But oh, how wrong you were. He knew exactly the kinds of people you were. Especially you. He knew what you were capable of, and it was you drawing a knot so tight in his stomach he has to fuck something. Whether it be a hand, a pillow, a sock, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

He stayed silent for a few moments. Then, he climbed into the seat next to you and shut the car door, never breaking eye contact.

Your heart started beating what you could only imagine as inhumanly fast when he leaned in closer to your face. You were inches apart and you were convinced he could smell the alcohol on your breath, so you tried to direct it away from him.

“I know your type.” He said, his accent prevalent. “You… are the innocent type who acts like she isn’t. You pretend you know what you are doing when you do not.”

He was so right, but why did he know that?

You didn’t actually have anything to say to that. So you looked at him and let him continue.

“You are a tease. What makes you such a tease is that you do it by accident. You don’t intend the nature of yourself that you put out. It’s like… an expensive treat that you want to get your hands on, but is behind an armoured window.”

Did he just imply he wants to get his hands on you?

“You…What? Sorry, are you telling me you want to put your hands… all over me?” You asked, swallowing the brewing heat that grew in your stomach, along with the nervousness you felt too.

“Would you let me?” He asked, holding eye contact still.

You sat for a second and thought. Obviously, the answer is yes. What idiot would say no to him? You let your head fall down in thought and kept it there, so it didn’t feel like König was analysing your thought pattern. It must have been a few minutes, because he lifted your chin up with his rough hands and forced you to look at him.

“Would you?” He asked, again.

This time you felt no inclination to think about your answer. You were already drunk anyway. Being drunk over König didn’t seem worse.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at him with your pretty eyes.

It made his dick throb.

He started by unbuckling your seatbelt and sitting you in a position facing him. He put his hands on your waist and revelled in how tiny you look in his hands.

You looked at him in such a way that drove him crazy. God, how he wanted to ruin you.

He moved your body closer to his and your breath hitched.

You decided to wrap your arms around König’s neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. You kissed him hard, and you kissed him desperately.

He wasn’t expecting it at all, not from you. The huge calloused hands wrapped around your waist clenched into a bruising grip, resulting in you moaning further into the kiss. He picked you up in what little room he had and sat you on his lap in the backseat of the car.

Just about the two of you could fit, and as if you knew what he wanted, you instinctively started grinding your hips down onto König’s lap, earning yourself a low grunt from the man. Finally, you broke the kiss with a gasp and leant back onto the back of the front-seat, still rolling your hips into your chauffeur.

“Mmmh…” you whined, making it known you wanted König even more than you were displaying. It was definitely reciprocated. König bucked his hips up into you as you were grinding into him, both of you still fully clothed, thickening the sexual tension between you two.

“Your place?…Or mine, meine liebe?” He asked, keeping his hands attached to your waist.

“Mm… mine? I don’t care…” you responded, your eyes screwed shut.

You whined in dissatisfaction when König moved you back to your original seat, making sure it was heard and exaggerated.

“I know, schatz.” He cooed, patting you on the leg. “10 minutes…and you’re all mine…”

He stepped out of the backseat and into the front. He turned the ignition on, and sped off back in the direction of home.

[part 3 is already in the making!! Sorry this one is short ily guys]

#savicals #I need him #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x you #könig x you #könig smut

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bosbas · 15 days

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Chapter 6: in a world of boys he's a gentleman

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, Eloise being the best, Colin finally having brain cell(s), but then very quickly losing aforementioned brain cells

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

May 30, 1816 – One week has passed since the unfortunate revelation of Lord Barlow’s true nature, and Lady Y/N Montclair has yet to make an appearance at a ball. Could it be that the Duke’s betrayal has left her too disillusioned? Perhaps the eligible gentlemen of London have failed to meet her exacting standards. One can't help but wonder if Lady Y/N be present at tonight’s ball, where the ton's most eligible bachelors will undoubtedly be vying for her attention now that she is decidedly searching for a new suitor. Who among them shall be lucky enough to capture her attention? This author does not know, but hopefully, this evening reveals more of Lady Montclair’s intentions.

Colin was grinding his teeth, his right eye twitching slightly as he glared at Eloise, with whom he had been arguing for the better part of the last hour.

“It’s not like I haven’t tried to be agreeable! She’s just impossible,” he ground out.

Colin was about finished with having to face criticism from his sister when you were the one who had ignored his attempt at a truce.

“It certainly doesn’t help that you rile her up every single time you see her. She’s trying to find a husband, mind you!” Eloise shouted back.

She had grown quite close to you in the past weeks, and she knew the kind of pressure you were under tonight. It was your first ball after finding out the Duke had sneaked away from the Bridgerton ball with Miss Barrington, and your full focus would be on finding a new suitor. Eloise generally preferred to stay out of your neverending conflict with Colin, but she knew he would never understand what you were going through. The very least she could do was ensure that he acted decently toward you, though it seemed like even that would prove a challenge.

“Exactly! I was the one who wanted to warn her about Lord Barlow’s betrayal, and now she thinks I’m the one who gave him access to our courtyard,” snapped Colin.

He couldn’t believe Eloise. How could she not see that you were one of the most infuriating, unpleasant, and insolent people in the ton? Why was she so intent on defending you? Colin was irritated beyond belief, and he wanted nothing more than to never speak with you again after the horse races. You had promptly ignored him after accusing him of orchestrating Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington’s escapade, and he spent the rest of the afternoon angrily stealing glances at you as you chatted pleasantly with his sister.

And to learn that you still wanted to find a husband? You could become a spinster, for all he cared. And he didn’t. He didn’t care. About you or about Lord Barlow, or frankly, about anything that had transpired since the Bridgerton ball. All he knew was that tonight, he would be forced to watch you bat your eyelashes and giggle softly as you talked to countless men when all he got from you were angry stares and sarcastic laughs.

“She’s the one who doesn’t want to be on good terms with me,” he added stubbornly, crossing his arms.

Eloise let out an exasperated groan and rolled her eyes. “Colin! Can you not find it in yourself to set aside your dislike for her and understand that she is an unmarried lady who just lost a titled man she was practically guaranteed to marry? She is in a precarious situation, not to mention feeling heartbroken and betrayed.”

In truth, Colin thought, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t even begin to. He had never faced that kind of pressure before, certainly not about something as trivial as marriage, and suddenly he felt guilty for wanting to spend the entire evening tormenting you so he could avoid watching you amass suitors.

Sensing that her words had struck a nerve, Eloise took advantage of her brother’s waning resolve. “You are Colin Bridgerton, Mayfair’s sweetheart! I don’t understand why you can’t act that way with her.”

“She doesn’t want that! She doesn’t want me!” Colin yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut in frustration.

But Eloise didn’t let up. “I’ll wager she wants that tonight. You don’t need to kiss the ground she walks on. Just be civil and refrain from any ungentlemanly conduct. It’s her first ball since the Lord Barlow scandal, and she doesn’t need to look bad in front of a crowd of eligible bachelors.”

“I don’t ever do it on purpose!” he defended.

“You could’ve fooled me,” scoffed Eloise. Then, softening her tone, she added, “Just tonight. Please.”

“Fine,” he relented.

If it was so important to Eloise, he would do it. He supposed he would want someone to do that to Eloise if she was ever in your same position. But he was already dreading the night. He had never particularly enjoyed balls, and he knew tonight would be especially dreadful. Usually, your arguments provided prime entertainment, and if he wasn’t allowed to fight with you tonight, he would just have to endure the monotony of the ballroom without any respite.

---

You drew in a sharp breath as you entered the ballroom, looking around at the crowd nervously. Charlotte placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and led you toward the back of the room. Had she chosen to go to the furthest place from the entrance simply to torture you? You were nervous enough as it was; you didn’t need the added anxiety of having everyone’s eyes on you as you walked through the crowd.

You had opted for an elegant white gown tonight. Well, your mother had suggested it and you had inevitably agreed to wear it.

“It’s meant to look like a wedding dress!” she had exclaimed earlier. “It shows you’re still in the marriage mart despite everything that’s happened, and you’ll have gentlemen queuing up to dance with you.”

Whatever the reasoning behind the gown, you had to admit that it was beautiful. It accentuated your figure, and you could already feel plenty of keen eyes on you and more than a few furtive whispers. Though you couldn’t make out exactly what people were saying, you were sure you heard your name mentioned several times. However, you smiled gracefully at everyone anyway, wanting to avoid being seen as a complete laughingstock after losing Arthur. The Duke, you corrected yourself. He was no longer Arthur to you.

“Y/N,” you heard Eloise’s excited voice beside you.

You turned to see her smiling face and squeezed Charlotte’s hand to let her know she could go on without you.

“Hello, El,” you greeted, smiling wide.

“The balls have been torture without you! I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she gushed, taking your hand and leading you to a less crowded part of the ballroom.

You relaxed slightly. At least one person here didn’t hate you. But perhaps she was the only one. As you kept speaking with Eloise, you realized that not a single bachelor had come to ask you for a dance. Usually, you had to reject quite a few gentlemen within the first few minutes of being at a ball, but your dance card remained empty tonight.

Swallowing nervously, you looked around the room and assessed the gravity of your situation. Plenty of people were staring at you, but no one had moved toward you. Were they waiting for someone else to walk up to you? Did they not want to be the first to dance with you? Or did this mean that Lord Barlow’s actions had well and truly ruined you? Feeling the familiar beginnings of tears forming in your eyes, you quickly started to panic. What would your parents say?

You were trying to focus on Eloise’s words, but all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat, and you were surprised people around you couldn’t hear it, too. Your stomach flipped uncomfortably as you realized that you might have truly fallen out of favor with the ton. The thought made you feel sick. This wasn’t how you wanted the season to go. How you needed it to go.

Just as you were ready to bolt outside in search of fresh air, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your stomach clenched, and for a fleeting moment, you hoped it was Colin Bridgerton. As much as you weren’t looking forward to the inevitable antagonism you would face from him, and as much as you knew that he wasn’t interested in anything from you other than an argument, the thought of engaging with someone of the opposite gender provided a fleeting sense of relief. Anything to momentarily divert your thoughts from the Duke's betrayal and the disheartening realization of your diminished standing in society. Although knowing Colin, he would probably bring up the subject just to spite you.

However, as you turned around, you came face to face with your brother. A tiny rush of disappointment coursed through you, and you crinkled your face in confusion. It was a disconcerting realization, indeed, to find yourself yearning for the company of Colin Bridgerton, the very individual you despised most in the ton.

Leaning down close to you, Louis asked lowly, “Ça va?” (Are you alright?).

“Louis,” you rolled your eyes and nodded, trying to convince him–and yourself–that you were fine. “Ça va” (I’m alright).

“Excuse me just a moment,” spoke Eloise as she looked between you and your brother. She squeezed your hand and turned around, leaving you with Louis.

You cringed, internally hearing your parents scolding you for speaking French around her. But Louis, unphased by Eloise’s exit, spoke again. “Non, j’suis serieux. On peut y aller,” he insisted (No, I’m serious. We can leave).

It was nice of him to check up on you. But it only left you feeling worse, a sobering reminder that your situation was dire enough that your brother was actually being sweet to you.

As much as you would have liked to, you knew you couldn’t leave the ball. It would only make it worse to flee now. Your parents had already allowed you a weeklong break from social events, and they would be most displeased to find out that you were giving up so soon after your re-entry into society.

So, you steeled yourself, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Leave the ball? For me or for you?” you asked Louis, poking him teasingly.

He relaxed upon hearing your light tone, letting out a breath as he smiled down at you. Your parents had asked him to be especially careful with you tonight, and he was left with sickening worry. You were his little sister, and as much as you had your differences, he still thought himself in charge, at least partially, of your wellbeing.

The worst part was that he knew exactly the kind of man Andrew Barlow was, and he was beside himself with guilt that he had even let the man near you. But you seemed to be getting through it, he noted, relieved.

Colin was rooted to the spot across the ballroom, staring at you as you engaged in easy conversation with your brother. How you could be so disagreeable toward him, and completely pleasant with everyone else was absolutely beyond him.

But what really caught his attention tonight was your attire. You were wearing a white gown, and he briefly wondered if that was what your wedding dress would have looked like. He couldn’t help it; you looked positively stunning, and he was angry because he knew if he even attempted to talk to you, you would most likely bite his head off.

Colin jumped as he felt a tap on his shoulder, slightly embarrassed at having been discovered staring at you. He turned around to face his mother and Eloise smiling far too innocently for his liking.

“Colin, go dance with Y/N, please.”

“Can’t Benedict do it?” Colin pleaded. He would do anything not to have to speak with you right this moment. It was far better to look at you from a distance, where he could pretend you didn’t completely despise him.

“He’s dancing with Penelope Featherington at the moment, so no. Colin, it’s one dance!” Violet responded, exasperated.

“It’s not like she won’t have anyone else asking her,” grumbled Colin unhappily. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t actually seen anyone ask you for a dance tonight.

“Colin,” Eloise pleaded. “If they see you dancing with her, they’ll be more inclined to speak with her.”

Remembering his conversation with his sister from earlier, Colin accepted defeat, mumbling a low “just this once.”

He found himself growing increasingly nervous as he made his way over to you, and he clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. What had gotten into him? This was merely a dance like any other. He’d done it many times before, and he could do it with you.

He cleared his throat as he reached your side, drawing you out of your conversation with Louis.

“Not you, too,” you sighed upon seeing him. “I’ve had enough of a difficult time today without your input.”

Colin was momentarily unable to speak, though he quickly recovered. At this point, he didn’t know why kept being so surprised that you thought so lowly of him.

He was not like the rest of the cruel members of the ton, he thought defiantly. And he would show you just how unlike them he was. This was the real Colin Bridgerton, not the insecure, combative version of him that seemed to slip out whenever you were near.

“A dance, Lady Montclair. I came to ask for a dance,” he said patiently, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t act like you’ve got a full dance card,” he rolled his eyes. Alright, maybe he couldn’t completely shake his hostile demeanor.

"Mr. Bridgerton, that is-”

“Please.”

“Why?” came your indignant response.

“We can say we’re both doing it for Eloise if that will make you feel better,” he said, eyebrows raised.

Unsure, you turned to look at Louis beside you, who gave you an unimpressed look and gently nudged you in Colin’s direction.

“Fine,” you huffed.

He let out a breath and reached for your dance card. “Thank you.”

Suddenly, Colin became hyperaware of his surroundings. Every sensation was heightened, and it was almost too much for him to hold your hand as he led you toward the dance floor. He had never had this much physical contact with you, bar the times you had not-so-accidentally stepped on his foot, and he was struggling to maintain his composure.

Your hand felt so delicate in his, and he was actively resisting the urge to interlock your fingers with his. Where had that come from? Why was it that he could never get a grip when he was around you?

Colin was forced back to the present moment as you reached the dance floor, and he carefully set one hand on your waist and used the other to hold your hand, getting into position before the music started playing.

His stomach was in about a thousand knots, and he awkwardly shifted his hand placement, unsure about whether he was making too much physical contact with you. With the way you looked tonight, Colin would have been happy to keep his hands on you all night, but he was sure you did not share the sentiment, and the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently make you uncomfortable. If he was going to make you upset, he would much rather have done it on purpose and off the dance floor. But that’s not what Eloise has asked of him, so he settled for gingerly holding your waist, his fingers carefully touching the smooth fabric of your dress.

Much to his chagrin, Colin stumbled slightly as the music started in an attempt to begin dancing with you. This was not at all how the most charming member of the ton was supposed to act, he scolded himself, cringing. Perhaps it was a good thing you had never agreed to dance with him before this, and that he never got the chance to properly pursue you as a suitor. If merely a turn about the dance floor with you had him feeling so out of sorts, he couldn’t even imagine what kissing you must have felt like.

Except now he was imagining what kissing you would feel like. His gaze suddenly fixated on your lips, and he wondered why he had never noticed how inviting they looked. It would be so easy to simply lean down, ever so slightly, and touch his lips to yours. Perhaps it would cause a scandal, given that you were in the middle of a ball, but he rather thought it would be worth it. Just a few-

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Bridgerton” your sharp voice cut through his musings.

Colin blinked, brought back to the present moment in an instant. It appeared that, in his rather improper daydream, his hold on your waist had tightened considerably. Irritation bubbled up inside of him as he softened his grip. It seemed that nothing had changed between the two of you, after all. His attempts at playing nice had been, as per usual, futile.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the concept of dancing, Lady Montclair, but it necessitates at least some level of physical contact,” he snapped, glaring but still unable to look away from your lips.

Unfortunately, his words were punctuated by another stumble as he fought to stay upright and keep moving to the music, and he had to hold onto you to avoid toppling over.

“What is the matter with you?” you hissed. “Did you never learn how to dance?”

Colin looked down at you, grimacing and expecting to find the furious glare on your face he so often received. But your eyes were elsewhere. They were skittishly looking around the room, and your mouth was settling into a deeper and deeper frown.

He noticed you anxiously chewing on your lip, your hand slightly shaky in his, though you were doing well to hide it. He felt like an idiot. Of course you were uneasy. It was your first dance trying to find a new suitor, and he was making you look like a fool in the middle of the dance floor. Colin felt his own anxiety melt away, replaced by a strange protectiveness he wasn’t sure he was familiar with.

“Just look at me,” he whispered as he twirled you.

You were too anxious to do anything but follow his instructions, and your eyes shifted to him instantly. He looked concerned, and you wondered whether it was concern for you or because he had almost fallen face-first in the middle of the dance floor. Either way, you were grateful you had something to focus on that wasn’t the constant obvious stares you were getting from everyone around you.

But, as Colin twirled you once again, you made eye contact with a man you had danced with on a few occasions. Before you could smile politely, he turned away to whisper something to the person beside him, and your face fell. As you returned to face Colin, you couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to see who would be the next person to prove that you were ruined.

You felt a squeeze at your waist, and your eyes came back to Colin’s.

“They don’t matter. Pretend it’s just me and you,” he said softly, reeling you in effortlessly. “Well, perhaps your sister as well, just in case you attempt to murder me.”

You couldn’t help it, you let out a soft giggle and bit your lip to keep from bursting into laughter. And though you were still surrounded by people surely itching to see you stumble and fall, you felt the rest of the ballroom fading away. As long as you kept looking at Colin, and he kept looking at you, there was nothing that could distract you.

“I haven’t been in England that long, but I’m fairly certain murder is illegal here,” you quipped, smiling warmly at Colin for what was probably the first time.

“I’m fairly certain it’s illegal in every place I’ve been to, but I’m not so sure that would stop you,” he said back, a positively rakish smile on his face. But you were far too distracted by his mention of his travels to notice.

“You’ve traveled? Eloise hasn’t mentioned much,” you said curiously.

“I’ve mostly traveled by myself,” he explained, now completely composed, previous stress forgotten, and finding himself enjoying your company. “My family doesn’t have the same penchant for adventure as me, so I usually set off on my own.”

You hummed thoughtfully. This, you hadn’t expected. Now you knew that you and Colin shared a love for travel, and it was a very unpleasant feeling, indeed. You had spent so long trying to distance yourself from him, and it was slightly disconcerting to know that the two of you had something in common. Especially something so embedded in who you were.

“Where was the last place you went to?”

“Greece,” he answered, smiling down at you. “I came back just before the season started. My mother was quite upset with me when she saw my tan.”

You laughed, perfectly picturing Violet’s hand over her chest as she saw her son after spending weeks in the sun. “You’re mad! If I had your kind of freedom, I certainly would not have stayed in England for as long as you have. Why haven’t you left since?”

“I- I’m not sure,” Colin answered. Why had he stayed so long? Usually, he liked to travel during the summer months, but he had stayed put so far and had no upcoming travel plans. “I suppose I am enjoying the season this year.” Was he really, though?

But you had already moved on to your next question. “The language is quite challenging, no? Did you learn at all? How long were you in Greece?”

Colin could have kissed you then and there. His family rarely showed interest in his travels, seldom responding to his letters, and once back in the ton, no one else bothered to inquire about his time abroad. Thus, he found himself pleasantly surprised by your curiosity, even if it was you—of all people—who displayed it.

As your conversation unfolded, Colin realized he was thoroughly enjoying himself. The effortless banter, combined with the tingling sensation that coursed through him whenever your hand grazed his neck, made him feel as though he were soaring high above the ballroom floor.

What if you had said yes that night at the Danbury ball? What if you had accepted his invitation to dance? Would it have felt as remarkable, as natural as this moment? Or was the allure of having you in his arms heightened simply because you had already rejected him?

Colin supposed he might have fallen for you that very night at the Danbury ball, had the circumstances been different. He could have seen himself, in a fit of romantic fervor, asking for your hand in marriage mere days afterward. Perhaps, then, it was lucky that you seemed to have an instant disdain for him. It likely spared him from acting the fool. Though truth be told, he often found himself behaving quite foolishly in your presence regardless.

As the dance ended, Colin found himself yearning to continue speaking with you. He grabbed your hand in his, feeling much more composed this time, and led you away from the dance floor. But he barely had time to turn back around to face you and continue your conversation before a trio of suitors came up and asked you to dance. Before he knew it, you were being swept away once more, this time on the arm of someone else.

Colin congratulated himself on a job well done as he made his way back to where Eloise stood, deftly declining a gentleman's offer to dance. It was a triumph, he thought, that Colin had gone more than five minutes without arguing with you, and you had even laughed at something he said! It felt far better than whatever hostile rapport the two of you usually had.

“Thank you,” Eloise smiled gratefully at her brother. “Now, was that so difficult?” she added in a teasing tone.

“I will have you know that yes, it was,” answered Colin stubbornly, but he knew he was lying even before the words came out of his mouth. Gliding across the dance floor with you in his arms had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Even now, as you twirled gracefully in the arms of another, Colin found himself not seething with jealousy as he might have expected, but rather in a state of awe. There was something enchanting about the sight of you, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Then, unexpectedly, your eyes met his over the shoulder of your current dance partner, and you bestowed upon him a heart-stopping smile, silently mouthing a 'thank you'. Colin had to feign a cough to cover up the giggle he had just let out. A giggle? From Colin Bridgerton, certified rake? What on Earth were you doing to him?

—

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lustfulslxt · 5 months

Note

hii can u do a smut femxmatt fic where they meet at a party and they like are kinda drunk and matt’s really flirty and touchy and they just end up fucking!! ty!!!

(kinda like ur party revelations one but maybe they’re both influencers or u could even do chris!)

Under The Influence - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : alcohol consumption, smut

a/n : i wrote this for chris bc as you said, i have party revelations for matt, and a friend of mine received a request just like this for matt. xx

—

Tie it up, put a chain on it

Make you tattoo my name on it

“Will you please come?” Sage begs, shaking my hand up and down, on the verge of a temper tantrum.

“You’re literally being ridiculous.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t see what difference it would make if I were there or not.”

Sage has been asking me to go to this party with her for weeks now. However, my answer has been a constant no. I’m not a fan of parties, much less big influencer parties. Too much drama always stems from them; whether it’s so and so cheated, whoever’s beefing, they did this, they did that. They never fail to have some dumb shit pop off, hence why I’d just rather not go. I don’t need anyone attempting to ruin my reputation and career just for their own benefit, I’m good.

“Because you’re my best friend and I need you. You’re my hype man and wingman all in one. Please! Just this once! I’ll do anything!” She continues to plead.

I sigh, ultimately knowing I’ll cave, “This is the only party you’re going to convince me to go to. You know how I feel about being around a bunch of fake and dramatic fucks.”

She instantly starts jumping up and down, cheering whilst shaking my hands again. “We’re leaving in three hours, so make sure you’re ready. Also, we’re gonna uber so we can get fucked up.”

I just shake my head, not really looking forward to the night ahead of me. But maybe, just maybe, I can get drunk and enjoy myself. Dismissing my thoughts, I turn on some music and head to my bathroom to begin getting ready.

I take a long shower, thoroughly washing and exfoliating myself. I shave and do a hair and face mask, prepping myself for tonight. After getting out, I dry off and apply vanilla scented lotion to every part of my body.

Next, I slip on my undergarments and apply deodorant, then head to my closet to choose an outfit. It doesn’t take me long, before I choose a plain, black mini skirt and tube top with a long sleeve mesh dress paired over it that had gems scattered all over. I stick with a pair of black lace up pumps to go with my outfit. Sitting down at my vanity, I go through my makeup, debating on what kind of look I want. After pondering for a moment, I just choose a dark smokey eye with a basic beat. I line my lips with a medium dark brown and apply clear lip gloss, blending it all together flawlessly. For hair, I just stick with a basic blow out.

“Great! You’re ready!” Sage suddenly cheers from my bedroom door.

I look over and see that she’s fully dressed and ready to go, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. Upon seeing that, my eyebrows raise.

“Why the face?” She asks, before registering it. “Oh, this! It’s for a little pregame. So, come on.”

I shrug and gather everything I need for tonight, placing it in my purse, then follow her downstairs. She already has two shot glasses set out on our dining room table, ready to be filled. Without another word, she fills both glasses to the rim with vodka, smirking at me as she raises her glass.

“Cheers to a great night!” She grins, clinking my glass with hers, both of us downing the harsh liquor.

My face contorts in disgust as the liquid flows down my throat, and I can’t help but cringe at the awful taste. Immediately, my chest is hot and I don’t want anymore. I’m not really a drinker, but I already know I can’t be sober in order to get through this night. We both take two more shots before our uber arrives and we’re heading to the party.

The driver talked our ears off the whole ride, so when we finally shut the doors of the black suv, we both sigh and fall into a fit of tipsy laughter. We’re not drunk, but neither are we completely sober.

Upon walking into the party, we’re met with a glowing red light, loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed, and a ginormous amount of people all chatting and dancing throughout the house.

“Y/N! Sage!” A voice calls out, directing our attention towards them.

It’s one of Sage’s friends, one I personally am not a fan of, but I know how to be nice. I shoot her tight lipped smile, leaving Sage to greet her.

“Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?” Sage asks, pulling her into a hug.

Before she can respond, I quickly interrupt, “Sorry, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

And with that, I’m making my way through the crowd of people, in search of the kitchen. It takes me about five minutes to get through everyone and I’m already slightly disgusted at the sweaty bodies and the lack of personal space. I’m not lying when I say parties aren’t my thing.

Finally being able to breathe in the less packed room, I deeply inhale and exhale, ridding myself of the building nerves. I walk over to the counter, grabbing a solo cup from the stack and browsing through the bottles of alcohol. I opt for an unopened bottle of vodka, not wanting to risk anything that may or may not have been tainted. I fill my cup up a little over half way, then turn towards the cooler to grab a chaser. More people have already piled into the kitchen, there now being less room to roam around. I reach into the cooler, grabbing the last can of pepsi, only for it to come up with another hand attached to it. My gaze trails up the veiny hand, following the arm it’s attached to, to observe who it is.

Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a sharp jawline, and wavy hair. A silver Vivienne Westwood chain hanging from his neck, sitting atop a white t-shirt that had a bear in a watering can, surrounded my grass and little flowers. Blue jeans and, last but not least, white air forces covering his feet.

He looks familiar. Hot, yet still familiar.

“Oh, hi.” He grins, snapping me from my thoughts.

That’s when I realize we’re both still holding the can, but I don’t let go.

“Hi.” I reply, my gaze set on his face.

“I think this is the last pepsi.” He points out.

I nod, raising my eyebrows at the obvious statement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Pepsi’s my favorite.” He adds.

I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips, “Do you want a cookie?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I can’t have it?”

I only repeat his action and shake my head in return, pursing my lips to keep the smile from forming.

“Can we share it?” He asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

And just like that, I’m folding. With a shrug, I pull the can from his grip. I open it up and dump some of its contents into my cup, then bring the can up to my lips, taking a drink all whilst holding eye contact. I notice him intently watching me, before grabbing the can and taking his own drink, licking his lips afterwards.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He questions.

I nod, biting my inner cheek, “And you are?”

“Chris.” He smirks, eyeing me and up and down. “Well, Y/N, we basically just kissed.”

I can’t help the loud laughter that falls from my lips, nothing less than amused at his statement. I can see the smirk on his face turn into a full blown smile as I try to catch my breath, recovering from the fit of giggles he put me in.

“That was corny.” I say, smiling at him with a shake of my head.

He tosses his hands up in defense, shrugging, “I mean, did we not?”

I don’t say anything, and bring my mixed drink up to my lips, downing all of it in one go. His eyes widen as he watches me. I don’t like alcohol, but I can manage. It doesn’t take long for it to take effect, on top of the shots I had earlier, I can already feel the warmth coating my insides. With a surge of boldness, I lean forward and place a small peck to the corner of his lips, swiftly pulling away and making my exit.

Just before I slip away, I turn back and flash him a smile, “See you around, Christopher.”

As the party goes on, I can tell the alcohol I’ve consumed has fully kicked in. The loud music is no longer bothersome, I don’t feel suffocated in the sea of people, and I feel good. It’s been around an hour since I’ve been here, and I’ve only ran back into Sage once. She’s off with her other friends, mingling around, and I’ve just been vibing.

I’ve seen Chris around, more times than I’ve seen anyone else. Unless I’m just fixated on him. It’s like every time I turn my head, my eyes are meeting his, and I never want to look away. Though, to save myself from embarrassment and humiliation, I force my gaze elsewhere.

After downing another shot, I make my way to the makeshift dance floor, and let loose. Under the Influence starts playing, and I can’t help but move my body to the beat, letting the rhythm flow through me. My hands make their way into my hair, my hips swaying in sync with the beat booming in my ears. Suddenly, I feel a warm presence directly behind me, causing me to spin around.

Hot and delicious.

Christopher.

“Hey, mama.” He slurs, a goofy grin showcasing across his lips.

He’s definitely invading my personal space, but I don’t even care. Especially when his enchanting scent is filling my nostrils, winding me in closer.

“Hello, Christopher.” I reply, my speech slightly incoherent.

“I knew you knew who I was.” He stammered, his body damn near pressed against mine.

“Mhm.” I hum in response, turning around and backing into him.

“You look good like this.” I hear his voice in my ear.

I grab his hands that were just barely grazing my waist, bringing them to fully grab my hips as I move into him. His large hands guiding me back and forth.

“You’re so pretty, it’s distracting.” He mumbles, his breath fanning my neck.

I can feel the goosebumps spreading, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“You’re drunk.” I softly say.

He shakes his head, “I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.”

Again, I’m bursting into a fit of giggles from something he’s said. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m drunk or if he just makes me nervous.

“You’ve been stuck in my head since I first saw you earlier.” He admits, stumbling over his words a bit.

I turn back around, looping my arms around his neck as we continue rocking to the music. His hands go up to my waist, pulling me into his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping, “You don’t wanna know.”

Instantly, my eyebrow raises, “Try me.”

“I see you flipping your hair around and all I want is to wrap my hands in it while you’re taking my cock.” He states, his voice low and husky.

I immediately feel heat rush to my core, the sound of his voice and the words he’s saying, turning me on. I bring my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it to prevent the large smile that’s close to taking over my face.

“What if I was thinking the same thing?” I ask, the grin breaking through.

“Will you freak out if I kiss you?”

Looking up into his eyes, I subconsciously scoot closer to him as I shake my head. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, then he slowly leans in. The second his mouth meets mine, my eyes flutter shut and I’m savoring the feeling of his soft lips on my own. One of his hands reaches around me and cups my ass while his other one is wrapped around my throat, pulling me impossibly closer. As our lips mold together, I find my hands in his hair, my arms holding him into me. The kiss is desperate yet soft, passionate yet hot. He pulls away, his face only centimeters in front of mine.

“Follow me.” He says, his breath slightly heavy as he intertwines our hands.

I do as he says, following closely behind him. We walk through the kitchen, dodging everyone in our way. We round the corner to a staircase leading downwards. He pulls me in front of him, ushering me to go down.

“After you.” He says, holding his arm out for me.

I shoot him a look, before grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, him following in suit. We get to a door that he opens for me, nodding to enter. It’s a large bedroom, quite tidy in itself, and I can smell his scent wafting through the air. Only now did I realize this is his house. As he shuts the door, I walk around, taking everything in. My hands trail across the edge of his bed, feeling his comforter beneath my fingertips.

“Do you like my room?” He asks.

I turn around to face him and he has a soft, innocent look upon his features. However, I can already see right through him. I know what’s about to take place.

“I do.” I nod, “It’s very neat, and it smells good.”

“Thanks.” He grins, strolling over to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was your party?” I ask him, sitting on the end of his bed.

He shrugs, “Why did you pretend you didn’t know who I was?”

I toss my head back, soft giggles pouring out of my mouth. I look at him with a cheeky smile and low eyes, shrugging my shoulders. He just grins at me, before kicking his shoes off and nodding towards mine. “You can make yourself comfortable if you want.”

Within seconds, I’m unstrapping the uncomfortable heels and setting them aside. He lays back on his bed, his legs dangling off the side. He grabs my hand and gives it a soft tug, so I copy his actions, and lie back. We’re both facing one another, drunk and happy.

“How come I’ve never seen you at any parties?” He questions, his fingers playing with mine.

“I’m not really a party girl. Definitely not an influencer party girl.” I admit, warmth building in my stomach at his soft gesture.

“Well I’m glad you came to this one.” He says, staring into my eyes.

“Why’s that?” I smirk.

“Because who knows if I would’ve met you had you not.”

I can’t help the blush that pools to my cheeks at his response. He’s flattering and he knows it. I don’t say anything, I just take in his features for the millionth time tonight. His hair slightly out of place from my roaming hands, his face flushed from the heat upstairs, his eyes lidded from the alcohol in his system, his pretty pink lips looking oh so kissable. He looks so good. Without a word, he pulls me closer to him, my body flush against his.

“Is this okay?” He asks me, trying to read into my facial expression.

“It’s perfect.” I nod, enjoying the warmth he’s providing.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, his breath fanning my face due to our short proximity.

A smile sneaks onto my lips as I look down, attempting to hide the red color that’s now adorning my skin. His large hand grabs my chin and lifts my head so that he can see my face. Our eyes meeting in an intense gaze, holding it for what seems like forever. He only breaks the eye contact when he puts his lips on mine again. It’s only a soft, chaste kiss.

“So pretty.” He says again, his voice low as he continues to press gentle kisses onto my lips.

The delicate kisses turn into feverish ones, our tongues now gliding in and out of one another’s mouths, lapping each other perfectly. Our lips move together so well, like we cannot breathe without each other. My hands return to his hair, softly tugging it, eliciting low groans from him. One of his hands cups my cheek, the other one resting on my lower back, pulling me even more into him. He flips me over onto my back and hovers above me, staring into my eyes once more as a small smile takes over his face.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” He groans, smashing his lips into mine again.

One of his hands rests on the bed by my head, the other one rubbing my outer thigh. Just his soft touches are enough to make my skin hot beneath his fingertips. My hands connect with the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly and running my hands up his torso. He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, tossing it on the floor, then reconnecting our lips. He’s positioned between my legs, his groin inches above mine. My hands continue roaming along his torso, feeling his hot skin. I bring my legs up, hooking around his waist, pulling him down into me. His clothed erection presses into my heat, causing a low moan to leave my lips.

“Are we really doing this?” He pulls back and asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress.

“Yes, please.” I answer, my voice soft and breathy.

He grinds down into me, his hard on hitting exactly where I need him, causing another moan to leave my mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you.” He groans into my ear, leaving a wet kiss on it.

I shudder in pleasure as he continues down my neck, sucking and biting, marking me up. I reach down for his dick, palming it over his jeans. He lets out a low moan, bucking into my hand, before harshly grabbing both of my hands and pinning them above my head.

“You first.” He mutters, holding my wrists with one hand while his other one travels down my body.

His hand swiftly makes its way between my legs, my dress riding up as he kneads my thighs. Then, he’s rubbing my core through my underwear. Hums of pleasure come from me, and I can feel them growing wetter and wetter.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, his voice raspy as he looks into my eyes.

“Y-yes.” I answer, moaning louder as he presses harder into my heat.

“So good using your words, mama.” He groans, licking my neck.

He then pokes his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slowly pulls them down my legs, discarding them to the side. He spreads my legs again, my dress and skirt now sitting completely on my hips. He throws his head back at the sight of my pussy glistening with my arousal. Without another word, his face is hovering above my center, his warm breath hitting it. I can feel myself clench around nothing, desperate for any type of stimulation.

“Look at you. I haven’t even done anything and your pretty pussy’s begging for me.” He smirks, his fingers now prodding at my folds.

Now coated with my juices, he runs a finger over my clit, rubbing in soft circles. I’m physically writhing beneath him, so badly needing more. He then thrusts a finger into me, causing my body to jerk and my mouth emitting a loud gasp. He continues pumping it in and out of me, then adds another and doing the same with it. My hands squeeze the bed sheet beneath me, attempting to release the tension building. His fingers are moving so fast in and out of me, curling in the right places. My mouth falls open, my brows furrowing as pleasure overcomes me.

“You look so pretty coming undone like this.” He says, peppering kisses all over my thighs.

“Feels s-so good, daddy.” I moan out, clenching around his fingers, unaware of the name that slipped from my mouth.

His eyes are completely black as he stares up at me, watching me fall apart. His dick is rock hard, throbbing and impatiently waiting to be inside of me. Without a second thought, his lips are wrapped around my clit, sucking on it as his fingers fuck into me. That alone is enough to push me over the edge, my legs shaking as I let go, giving into the building pressure. I feel my cum ooze out of me, quickly being slurped up by Chris, tasting every drop of me as his fingers help me through my orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste so good, ma.” He says, licking my lips.

He pulls his fingers out of me, coming back up to hover over me, shoving them in my mouth. I moan around his fingers, sucking my own juices from them. He harshly grips my jaw, slamming his mouth onto mine, the taste of me lingering on our tongues.

Breathless, he pulls away and stands up, pulling me to the end of the bed by my ankles. His hand travels up my leg from my foot, tenderly squeezing along the way.

“Can you stand up?” He asks, softly rubbing my hip.

I nod and scoot to the edge, standing up on shaking legs and looking up at him. He cups my face, brushing my cheek with his thumb. He plants a sweet kiss on my lips.

“Take your clothes off.” He says, his tone firm.

I happily oblige, stripping from my clothes as he does the same. I watch as his dick springs from its restrictions, hard and throbbing. Just from the look of it, I know I’m in for a treat. He strokes himself as he looks over my body, licking his lips. He steps in front of me, his member poking into stomach. His hands run up and down my body, pressing kisses into my neck.

“On the bed, on your knees.” He demands.

I do as he says, and he follows behind me, holding me up with his hand on my throat. His lips meet my neck, sucking and biting all over it, causing soft whimpers to leave my mouth. He pushes me forward, laying me flat on my stomach. He leans over me, licking and nipping my back, leaving a warm trail of saliva. His hands part my thighs, squeezing himself in between them. I can feel him run his tip between my folds a few times, causing me to push back in anticipation. He pushes me back down, slowly sliding himself inside me.

“Ugh, fuck.” He moans, bottoming out.

“You’re so big, daddy. Feels so good.” I moan, feeling him slowly thrust in and out, filling me so nice.

His strokes start slow and hard, before the speed picks up. His hands are on my back, holding himself up as he fucks into me at a delicious rate. I can’t help the moans that continuously fall from my mouth, feeling nothing but never ending pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, mama.” He groans out, fucking into me deeper and deeper.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel the buildup in my stomach once again. His hand wraps around my hair, tugging back as he leans over me once more. His mouth comes to my neck again, leaving wet kisses. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans in my ear, and they’re driving me insane.

“Feels like you were made just for me.” He whispers. “I knew you would feel good, but this is better than I imagined.”

“All yours.” I babble, ridden with pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I can’t take it.” He moans, his voice holding a rasp to it.

I clench around him, feeling seconds from giving into my orgasm. A string of moans and curses fall from my lips, pure bliss coursing through me.

“You’re about to cum, I can tell.” He says, “Let it go, baby. Cum for me.”

And just like that, I’m releasing all over his cock with the loudest moans. His thrusts start to grow erratic, indicating he’s close to finishing as well.

“Such a good girl. Taking my cock so well, mama.” He moans out, thrusting harder.

Within a few more strokes, his dick twitches and his hot load is spurting into me, lewd groans emitting from his mouth. He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, before slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of me. He collapses next to me, breathing heavily, looking me in my eyes with a goofy grin. His face is flushed red and his hair is sweaty, sticking to his forehead.

“That was amazing.” He breathes.

Unable to form words, I nod in agreement. His hand interlocks with mine, gently squeezing as his other hand brushes my hair out of my face.

“God, you’re so pretty, Y/N.”

I bashfully smile, “Thank you.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks, his eyes shining with hope. “We can shower and you can wear some of my clothes.”

I ponder for a second before shrugging with a nod, “That sounds perfect. I’ll just have to let Sage know.”

He smiles, brightly, pecking my shoulder over and over as he pulls me into him.

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

—

a/n : this took me entirely too long to finish, so sorry ab that!! also not proofread, as per usual. hope you enjoyed this!! continue sending in reqs and i promise i’ll get to them eventually <3

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aphroditelovesu · 2 months

Note

Can you do general headcanons for romantic yandere Clarisse la rue x reader? Thank you <3

❝ 🥀 — lady l: definitely! I hope you like these hcs, anon! Forgive me for any mistakes and good reading ❤️.

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of death, kidnapping and toxic relationships.

❝🥀pairing: yandere!clarisse la rue x gender neutral!reader.

Clarisse has never been the romantic type or cares about that kind of thing. She had other concerns than dating or something like that, she preferred to dedicate her time to other and more productive things. Her time was spent fighting and honing her skills. La Rue kept that thought in mind for a long time, until she laid her eyes on you.

At first glance, you seemed like just another demigod among many others she had already met. However, as you began to interact and she got to know more about you, something changed within her. There was something about you that attracted her and she knew she wanted more.

Gradually, Clarisse began to realize that perhaps there was more to life than simply fighting and honing her skills. You awakened a different curiosity in her, a desire to explore new experiences and feelings. You awakened feelings she had never felt before and she knew she wanted more. She knew she wanted you and she would have you.

When Clarisse finally acknowledged that she was in love, a series of conflicting emotions flooded her. She felt vulnerable and challenged, something completely new for someone so used to maintaining a facade of strength and independence. At the same time, she felt invigorated, as if she was finally discovering a part of herself that had been neglected for so long. And all thanks to you.

This revelation brought with it a feeling of euphoria mixed with fear. Euphoria from the overwhelming feeling that consumed her when she was near you, but fear of the unknown, of what could happen if she allowed herself to completely surrender to this new emotional territory. Clarisse was distraught at the thought of losing control but she wasn't going to let you get away.

As Clarisse's feelings for you intensified, she found herself in unfamiliar and challenging territory. The idea of being in love made her uncomfortable and vulnerable, but at the same time excited and motivated. She never imagined that she could feel something so strong for someone, and it scared her a little at first.

She also saw in you a challenge, a goal, a prize to be won. And she would be the one to win you over. If she had competition, Clarisse would deal with them however she pleased. She would challenge them to a fight and, if they still didn't stay away from you, she would deal with them in a more definitive way. She does not want and will not accept having any type of competition for your love and attention.

And most of all, she was determined to win your heart and not let anyone else come between the two of you. You would be hers one way or another. She wouldn't like to have to force you to love her or do something against your will, but Clarisse isn't against using the strength she possesses against you if necessary.

Clarisse would be practical. After an exhausting workout, she took a shower and asked to talk to you. Fortunately, you already had a good relationship to make things easier.

When you were together, La Rue confessed how she felt about you. She let it all out in an awkward way, but she let it. You were swept away by her words and when you accepted your feelings, Clarisse blushed, she actually blushed. She pulled you into a passionate, possessive kiss and finally sealed her love, her obsession.

The relationship with her is suffocating and very unstable and this became clear very quickly. Clarisse was not clingy, but rather possessive and she will fight and threaten anyone who looks at you for longer than she deems necessary. She is very controlling of you and will demand to know where you are or what you are doing at all times. It became exhausting after a while.

She is a daughter of Ares and therefore is not against using violence to protect her relationship. She had you, someone she loved and cared for with her entire being, and she'll be damned if she let anyone try to take that away from her. You are hers alone and everyone will know that. Clarisse should be the only person in your life that you love and she will make sure of that. Your friends will have to go and your family will have to go. You don't need them while you have her.

You can't leave her. If you tried to break up with her, Gods be good. Clarisse will not allow it and will make absolutely sure that you understand this. Her first warning would be when your little mortal friend was brutally murdered during your summer break and the second would be when you woke up in a dark place and tied up.

You won't leave her, ever. Clarisse will make sure of that. You became hers the moment she started paying attention to you. This is all your fault, she will tell you. If you hadn't attracted her, this would never have happened. But don't worry, she will take great care of you. That's what good girlfriend's do, right?

#yandere percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #yandere clarisse la rue x reader #yandere clarisse la rue #headcanons #yandere headcanons #romantic yandere #yandere pjo

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aphroditesmoon · 10 months

Note

umm, you’re taking Gwen x reader? I have a request. Black cat reader who was best friends with Gwen and Peter but is the rival of Spider woman. Something or another happens and their identity’s get revealed

love it if we made it

gwen stacy x blackcat!reader (gn)

warnings: cursing, tiny angst, gwen's peter is alive here, reader has hair long enough to tie them (only description)

a/n: i rlly hope u like this!

°°°°°

A robbery happened on a Tuesday, 6th July 3AM sharp. A robbery in a golden jewelry store. A minute after that, the Pandora store next to it.

No one cared about the robbery, of course. People were too busy talking about the anonymous donation worth more than 15000 the next day to three different centres in need of them.

Gwen Stacy's mind however, is still stuck at a particular difficult nemesis, the black cat. She's never failed to capture a villain like this, never took this long. But again and again, with time, the annoyingly quick and sneaky cat escapes from her grasps.

It was probably obvious that she wasn't too enthralled by any of the breaking news today, all of them critiquing the infamous Spider-Woman for being unable to get her webs on the villain. Her mind was so full and blurry with different kinds of thoughts that she didn't notice her own best friend walking into class and waving at her.

You took your spot next to Gwen, creaking your chair loudly to get her attention. When she finally flinches out of hee daydream and looks at you, she's met with a knowing smile. "Sleeping? Its not even the first period yet." She shook her head and forced a smile out. "No, just dreading AP maths." You laughed at that. Gwen was good at maths, and all the stupid numbers and figures that came with it, that couldn't have been the reason.

"Well, whatever it is, I need you took a little alive for this gift im about to-" "Gift?" Her eyes brighten up immediately. You grinned at her and pulled out the small paperbag, waving it in front of her.

Gwen, impatient she is, snatches it from you and gets to opening its ribbons open. "It's not even my birthday." She mumbles. "Good, now you can't ask me for anything on your birthday." You settled it, earning a mischievous smirk from her. She knows, you would've given her anything if she'd only asked.

You revel in her suprised expression as she pulls out the golden bracelet, it was a waving design, two long whirling gold around in a circle, with a small blue diamond placed in the middle. "You are insane." She says, glaring your way. "What? Can't treat my girl?" The both if you turn slightly pink with those words. You should've just said your welcome. "The blue reminded me of you. A centerpiece around all the golden whirly shit." She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. "I love it, thank you." You replied with a nod and your same small smile.

"This must've costed you a lot though, couldn't you have bought me a two dollars friendship bracelet." She joked while putting the gift on her right wrist. "Oh don't worry, I stole it." You say with your usual tone.

Gwen almost backtracked when you said that, before hitting herself awake in her mind, forcing herself to leave the Spider-Woman alter ego aside for today.

You were making a joke because you didn't want her to feel bad, you always did. So she rolled her eyes before repacking the box and the paperbag to put them under her table. "You'd be a shit thief." She concluded. You furrow your brows. "Well then, at least I'd get to see Spider-Woman." You teased while wiggling your brows.

"I wonder how many people became really bad burglars and thieves just to get her autograph." The last of your sentence became muffled ariund the sounds of other students as your teacher finally arrive, but gwen who heard it all to well only smiled at the thought.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

School finished two hours ago, and neither of you saw or heard from Peter the whole day. He was probably at the lab again, as he always was so you didn't really bother. Gwen, on the other hand, wouldn't stop trying to get him to answer his phone.

She's pacing around the room with her phone speaker on while you're laying on her bed, messing with her giant flower shaped plushie while she loses her mind. "Maybe he left his phone at home." You reasoned. Gwen shool her head and kept trying. "He always lose his damn phone."

You frowned at her and decided you were done waiting. "Gwen, its over 10pm, I need to get back home, my dad will be worried." You say before getting up and taking your jacket from her coat hanger. "When has your dad ever even noticed if you're gone." She snaps, phone thrown on her bed in frustration.

Your eyes widen at the words and you scoff at her. She opened her mouth to apologize, immediately getting cut off. "Look, I don't know what spider has crawled up your ass these days, but we both know Peter's always disappearing these days, he's probably fine, and I'm going home since you're so worried over your friend that isn't in front of you." You ended the conversating as soon as it started, not giving her a chance to respond, you left her room, banging the door.

Your house was a few blocks away from Gwen's. When you're sure no one's around, you climb up quickly inti your room by the window, hands fast, some help from your claws. Tossing your backpack onto your bed, you changed into your suit without wasting time.

Gwen was right about something, your dad has long since noticed if you ever even came home these days. You jumped back out of your window, swinging upwards onto the roof instead of the streets.

You hopped from building to building, taking your time while enjoying the view. The lights. They were beautiful tonight, accompanied by the bright moon, staring down from above. Even the neon signs of Joe's Pizza seemed pleasant to look at in times like this. You wished you could've shared these kind of moments with Gwen, but you didn't want to think of her now.

You find a spot above a tall empty building, where the ciry lights seemed clearer, and the smell of trash and dog piss was further away. Pulling your hair up in a bun, you tied it over twice, fixing it so you'll be able to see better without your hair always on your face.

And what a fate, as you're tilting your head down whilst your hands fixes the hairtie, a robbery happens right in front of your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at the crime, until you remembered you were also a criminal of a sort. This was interesting to see. A crime done by someone other than the Black Cat, finally.

The pleasure was shortlasting though, when you had realized who was getting robbed. It was Peter. The masked man pulled out his gun, aiming it to Peter's face when he tried to run. "Run, and I'll shoot." His voice a mumble from below.

You move to stand up, backing away from any visibility, tiptoeing until you've reached the end of the building and hopped off, landing on your feet.

When you walked over the building to stand behind the robber, Peter's eyes involuntary widen, as if a warning towards another civillian. But you weren't a civilian, and when he takes in tbe suit and the masks, he realized who you were.

The robber gets annoyed when his eyes weren't on him anymore. "What the hell are y-" he spuns around towards you, receiving a kick to his stomach, making him fall on his back on the blow. You smiled at the victory watching Peter look between you and the fallen robber in confusion.

It seemed your victory didn't last long when a sling if webs shot againts your face.

You wretched the sticky web out of your face, growling in disgust. "Robbing an innocent citizen? That's low, even for you kitty." The annoying voice spoke. Once you manage tu cut the webs off fully with your claws. Regaining your vision, you sneer at the ghost-spider, standing in front of Peter, who's finding protection behind her. "Is being blind apart of being spider-woman? I didn't rob him, I saved him." The hero's eyes squint along with her mask. "You? Saving people?"

Your eyes actually widen in offense before looking towards Peter. "Tell her doofus! I literally kicked him for you."

Gwen swings her head back at him and he stutters in panic. "Wh-I mean, yeah, she did, technically...kick him." You fold your eyes and glare at her as she turns back at you. "See?" The two of you lock eyes for a minute long before she finally speak. "Peter Parker-" She calls him.

Both you and Peter frown at the name dropping . "-go home. I'll deal with her." The boy doesn't hesitate, turning his back and running way.

You snorted at her words. Always a show off. "You'll deal with me? How?" She tilts her head. "Like this." When you saw herbhand moving up, you move faster than her, snatching up her wrists in a tight grip as you push her againts the wall. "I might not have any venom on me, but try that again spidey, and I'll make you'll feel these claws for days." You see her physically wince at the words.

"You think just because you saved one man, that erases the 166 crimes you've done?" She asks sarcastically. You pout and pretends to think. "I think, I really don't give a fuck, but its nice of you to remember all of my crimes, definitely not weird and obsessive or anything."

She tries to speak again but you shush her when your eyes bore into the bracelet on her wrist. Firstly, who is stupid enough to wear their jewelry outside of their suit? Its like they're begging to be robbed. Secondly; "Where did you get that bracelet?"

Your nemesis lets out a 'huh?' You repeat yourself, sterner. "I bought it?" You scoff. "You couldn't have bought something I've robbed." She seems annoyed by your questions. Being accused of stealing by a thief is pretty hurtful. "I could've brought it before you robbed it, you know."

You hummed thoughtfully at her words before you spoke. "You could've, or-" Your grip on her loosens, "-We're both just really, really, stupid." Gwen cocks her head in confusion. "What the hell are y-" realization hit her then. "Oh my god, no."

"No? Are you sure, Gwen stacy?" She winced at the mention of her name. Her hands move towards your mask. "How did I never..." Her words trails off a second before loud voices of people coming your way was heard. You pull her back swiftly into an alley, putting yourself between her and the open space.

The both of you lean yourselves againts the wall, you feel her fingers slowly slips into yours and holds back a tired sigh.

Once the group of kids has passed the alley, you finally relaxed. Her hands try to pull aw

ay but you curl your own fists around it.

She spins you back to her and her free hand moves to graze over your mask. "I didn't want you or Peter to be involved like this." She murmed. Your own hand slids around her waste as you lean closer. "I don't think it's up to you, Gwen." She huffs. "You know what I mean." You say nothing, eye staring down at your intertwined fingers.

"Are you still going to get me arrested, spidey?" You could feel her glare from inside the mask. "What? Because I'm your friend, it all changes now?" You honestly ask. "Because I love you, and I know you and your heart, is why it's all different now. You're not who I thought you were, you can't be, the Black Cat I've thought of before was evil in my head, evil and cruel."

You say nothing, waiting for her to continue. "You're not evil, and you're not cruel." You raised a brow. "Then, what am I?" She's hesitates. "You're, with me. And I'm not going to let them take you, not anymore, whoever your secret identity is." Your mouth remains shut at that.

All the bad jokes and sarcastic comments dies on your throat. But your stubornnes always wins, "You didn't really seem to care much about me this evening."

Gwen groans loudly. "Come on, we'll go back to my place, I won't even look at the ground on the way home to shown you how much I'm paying attention to you now." You snort, a smile escaping you despite your efforts to remain upset at her.

#gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy #ghost spider x reader #ghost spider #atsv #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miguel o'hara x reader

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delcakoo · 1 year

Text

sunghoon with a short gf‧₊˚.﹅♛ ｡‧₊

requested <3 ! jay ver ! jake ver ! niki ver !

PAIRING ! sunghoon x f!reader

WC ! 1.2k

GENRE ! fluff fluff fluff, crack + slight suggestive

WARNINGS ! none just hoon being the most annoying ever <3

a/n: bejdhjd this was in my drafts for a while sorry T-T i hope u guys enjoy hoons ver, my man fr :D

well you’ve got yourself an absolute menace for a boyfriend i’m sorry

mf is so tall that you don’t even make it into his line of sight and he’s rEVELLING in this fact

you’re standing right in front of him and he just

“hmm, where’s y/n? i can’t seem to find her..”

“anyone seen my girlfriend? she’s like.. 4’2.. careful you don't step on her!”

probably has your contact name as thumbelina or smthn

please just punCH him please

kidding he wouldn’t even feel your tiny fists 🧌

when you’re trying to y’know

mind your dAmn business

having a peaceful conversation with literally anyone BUT sunghoon

the big baby gets all annoyed that you aren’t paying attention to him so guess what he does

“—and so i explained that i wasn’t going to go with her!” sunoo exclaims to you with crossed arms

“yeah of course,” you agree, “why would you? that’s totally—“

you don't even get to finish because soMEONE has laid a bulky arm on your head like you’re his own personal armrest??!£<%!]?

yup, there's your boyfriend in his stupid white muscle tank top looking down at the two of you

“hey guys 😎😎”

you give him the ‘why am i dating you’ stare

“what?” he smirks, literally challenging you to TRY and fight back, “go on, keep talking tiny people”

you and sunoo take turns punching him ❤️

it has no effect

damned muscle pig

don’t even get hoon started on how much he secretly LOVES his ability to pretty much do whatever he wants with you

“babe, want me to give you cuddles?”

“what? 🤨 not right now, i’m in the middle of cooking this—heY!“

suddenly you’ve been snatched up bridal style as if you’re a ragdoll

“ahh, if you insist, i guess i can spare you some time 😇”

proceeds to throw you on the couch before juMPing ON YOU

giggles the whole time too

“i don’t think i should hug you too tight, how are you so small?”

you wouldn’t mind dying to one of his hugs anyway <3

but please don’t tell him that

hoon never misses an opportunity to make fun of you for being whipped

another example. playing board games and he loses? bro throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes

then he takes you to the nearest couch or bed and tickles you WHILE HOLDING BOTH YOUR WRISTS WITH ONE HAND. 😢

he needs to get his ego back somehow after such an embarrassing loss 💔

watches you squirm under him with a dumb smirk, “you’re so pathetic jagi, i need to take you to the gym with me, seriously”

you don’t know if you should be blushing or scowling

speaking of blushing

eventually sunghoon discovered another one of your weak spots

with your height, all you can see is his chest unless you crane your neck up

that is, unless he takes the initiative to bend forward and get right up in your face like some kind of siREN trying to seduce you??

“sunghoon i don’t know how many times i have to tell you,” you frown, rummaging through your empty pantry, “that was MY ramen, and it was supposed to be for when—“

you have to pause because when you look to your left, sunghoon has an elbow on the counter, bent forward to finally be at your height with his face all in in your personal bubble

and on his lips is a big, FAKE innocent pout, brows furrowed and puppy eyes staring straight at you

you know exactly what he’s doing

trying to flirt his way out of his mess as usual

not that it isn’t working of course, especially due to how weird it felt being face to face with your boyfriend without having to practically break your neck

but you still attempt to stand your guard 🙁

“what do you think you’re doing? you think your pretty face will make me forgive you?” you move away nervously, continuing to reorganise the cupboard

that lasted about 2 seconds before the idiot grabs you by your waist and pins you against the kitchen counter

he leans down even further, whispering in your ear, “c’mon.. i said i’m sorry baby, what else should i do to get you to forgive me..?”

you see where this is going and quickly push him away

“okay okay! whatever, buy me some more ramen and i’ll forgive you..” you mutter in defeat

he releases you right away at that, cheering in victory ☹️ sigh

your weak spot for him never fails to resurface at the worst times

even when other people tease you and he just JOINS IN

you’ll be at the dorms laying on the couch with hoon and niki (the absolute WORST combination, god bless you) watching a movie

and conveniently enough it just happened to be ‘tall girl’

listen

it was for the shits and giggles, but of course mr dumb and mr dumber next to you took every opportunity to make fun of you

niki would punch your shoulder (for what reason sir??) “y/n, she’s like you in an alternate universe!”

your BOYFRIEND immediately laughs in agreement, “maybe if you stack 3 y/n’s on top of each other, it’d equal the height of this girl”

LIKE THROUGH THE WHOLE MOVIE THOSE TWO ARE MAKING THESE DUMB COMMENTS 😭

eventually you save yourself though <3

“sunghoon if you make another stupid comment you’re sleeping on the damn couch tonight 😊”

niki ofc is all “ooOoooooOooHh 😱😱😱😹😹”

meanwhile bro is flabbergasted, “what?! but niki was doing it too!”

“is he my boyfriend??”

“you wish i was—“

sunghoon punches him 😁

but but every once in a while hoon makes sure you know he really does love you for how you are despite all the teasing :c

it’s usually in pretty subtle ways like just. trying to be your one and ONLY assistant

“hey hee, can you reach that plate for—“

“DID somEone SAY hoon can you get that plate? why of course princess!”

before you can protest it’s in your hand already 🧌

“…thanks hoon”

heeseung in the distance shakes his head, muttering about how whipped this man is for you

another time hoon found you crying in the bathroom after a rather unfortunate incident earlier that day

someone SOMEHOW thought you were his little sister due to your height difference

hoons usually very shy with strangers but this time he was NOT pleased

of course he didn’t wanna start anything in public

but he was absolutely passive aggressive

wraps a protective arm around your waist, “uh, no this is my girlfriend actually.” 😐🤨

when he found you crying he literally felt his heart shatter and quickly ran up behind you

back hugs you and whispers softly against your neck

“who cares what those single losers think, you know you’re perfect for me right? you make me feel so useful, always failing to reach everything.. needing my help..”

you laugh through your tears at that, making sunghoon smile as well

“.. it’s okay when i tease you right?”

you quickly nod, “yeah, just not when anybody else does it”

inside his heart just bursts :c

he nods in agreement, “damn right”

hugs for my shorties part 3 🫂🫂🫂 !!

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated and motivating for me to write more :)

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @lov3niki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @l1lac-dreamer @kodzukii @yjjungwon @miou45

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whateverisbeautiful · 5 days

Note

Hi! I just wanted to say that I discovered your top 30 Richonne list a few days ago and I've been down the meta rabbit hole you've so wonderfully crafted this entire week so far. I've cried and smiled so much reading them. Each post is just so beautiful.

I was reading one of your Reveling in Richonne posts this morning for episode 10 x 04 where Michonne talked with Ezekiel about how much she still misses Rick and loves him so much and that she misses his walk and now I can't get over it. Now I'm thinking about all those times when she looked at Rick walking towards or away from her pre- and post-canon where she would be thinking the man I'm crushing on, then eventually the man I love is so sexy. Is there any chance you can do a post speculating those moments where they are both checking each out specifically regarding Michonne checking out Rick's walk?

Also I cant wait for you to do a Reveling in Richonne continuation based on TOWL 👀? So excited! Lastly I just need you to know that my Richonne withdrawals have been pretty bad now that TOWL has concluded. So discovering your blog and your metas have been giving me my whole entire life and I just want to say thank you and that I really appreciate all the thought and beauty you put into your posts. You're amazing!!!! 👏🏽 👏🏽 🤩 💖

Hi @rct85 ! I'm so encouraged by your message, thank you so much. 🥰 I love that this richonne reveling rabbit hole could help with the richonne withdrawal. I’m feeling it too and really miss seeing them on screen each week. 🥲 Thank goodness we were spoiled with years of richonne content that I’ve just been playing on a loop in my head. The second I'm finally able, I'm looking forward to going all out and writing about every golden moment from TOWL. The towl thoughts and observations are abundant lol.

And I really like that thought of highlighting the times that Michonne was looking at Rick and thinking this man I'm crushing on and later in love with is so sexy. I can definitely speculate on those moments and I've placed my extra self’s speculation right below. 😊⬇

I focused on Michonne specifically for this one because if I were to make a list of times Rick was looking at Michonne and thinking this woman I'm crushing on/in love with is so sexy it would be wildly long because it's every single moment he and Michonne are on screen together. Like truly from TWD 3.06 at the fence to the TOWL 1.06 finale Rick looks like he's thinking that. 😋 While Michonne can be a little more subtle than Slick Rick, she's still head over heels for her husband and I think I pinpointed some clear moments where she was noting how fine her man is and appreciating that walk. 😏 Thanks again for reading my posts and for this kind message! 💗

Moments Michonne Was Checking Out Her Man’s Walk/Thinking Rick Is Fine 😋

Exhibit A:

It started real early if you ask me. 😌 At this point our Michonne had been abandoned by her only friend, unsuccessfully gaslit by the governor, chased down and shot by Merle, and passed out killing walkers at the prison fence. She’d been put through a whole lot in mind and body…but her eyes clearly still work just fine as she seems to be taking in this handsome stranger in front of her.

And sis is an observant person so I wouldn’t at all be surprised if she had a conscious thought that this man from the prison is attractive, even here in their first exchange. Thinking about how she described Maggie and the Governor based on appearances in this ep, I’d bet that had Michonne had to describe Rick this early, some type of good-looking adjective would‘ve been used.

(*Also the footnote for all of these bits of evidence is that Rick is absolutely captivated by her in each of these moments too 💯)

Exhibit B:

Clear is where that Richonne attraction was loud and on display from both of them. We don’t see Rick walk away in this scene at the end of the ep but uh Michonne does. 😊 And of course she likes what she sees with that lingering look and smile she gives. And all that car key shuffling - it’s giving Rick is pretty eager but maybe she is too 🤭

Exhibit C & D:

I put these two moments side by side because I love how similar they are in the way Rick walks up to her and the way Michonne smiles at him. To think one scene is during their early s4 crush era and the other is during their s7 honeymoon ep, just goes to show these two have been smitten a long long time and always will be. In both moments I know Michonne loves seeing his walk just like Rick loves seeing her smile.

Exhibit E:

As she observes Rick here, I think Michonne has a lot of thoughts going through her head, which naturally are deeper than just checking him out. On a larger level, she’s realizing that Rick has unique qualities that she loves and respects and recognizes in her own self. She saw firsthand the way Rick walks the walk when it comes to protecting his family and she’s fallen in love with him. But I think an appreciation for his literal walk can be included in those thoughts during this scene as she starts to slowly become more cognizant that she sees Rick as a lot more than just a friend.

Exhibit F (Pt. 1 & Pt. 2):

I may have forgot if this was a list of Michonne’s thoughts or mine with exhibit f lol. But I’m just gonna venture to say that she and I shared the same appreciation for Rick’s walk in that barn. It’s Season 5 Rick - of course Michonne was feeling a type of way about him. And she might not have agreed with him punching Aaron but I know she wasn’t mad at that walk.

Exhibit G:

Seeing Rick’s clean-shaven face for the first time was Michonne’s most blatant display of attraction towards him pre-canon and she was definitely noting how fine he is. And from my posts on the scene, it’s no secret how much I love this moment and it’s no secret how much these two were into each other. I also just added a later s5 moment of Rick seeing Michonne in the constable windbreaker for the first time because it gives a similar energy. It’s cute how Rick and Michonne both have such obvious attraction and intrigued reactions to seeing each other in ways they haven’t seen each other before.

(That’s also why I thought it was so funny and doomed that their plan was to pretend like they don’t know each other at the CRM because Richonne hasn’t been able to mask their blazing attraction to each other since season 3)

Exhibit H:

This is such a sweet moment and I always adore seeing the slightly bashful way Michonne can’t help but stare at her man and smile after their first night together. And the way Rick can sense her looking at him and then smiles and reaches for her. It gives me life. This had to make this list because I’m pretty sure “the man I love is so sexy” is one of the direct quotes from Michonne’s mind in this scene.

Exhibit I:

Even when injured Rick’s walk is hot and Michonne knows it. 😋 The scene above and a couple more in this episode were clear signs of Michonne admiring her man inside and out. They were both so cute and couply and in love in this ep and I’ll never get over it.

In The Ones Who Live…

Each of these towl moments deserves dissertations so I’ll wait to elaborate because dissertations are coming later on. But I still had to include them on this list because they’re prime examples of Michonne loving Rick’s walk and/or loving how sexy her husband is - with the last one being the pinnacle 😍

Exhibit J:

Exhibit K:

Exhibit L:

Exhibit M:

Exhibit NOPQRSTUVWXY&Z:

#richonne #richonne family #richonne list #thank you for giving me an opportunity to be extra again and go down memory lane 🙏🏽💖#the ones who live #towl #rick x michonne

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

Text

Hunter's Experiences After Belos's Death

Oops, this got long. Aw well, it was really fun to write.

Special thanks to @ashanimus!

This is speculative at the end of the day, but since:

1. This is my fave animated show of all time

2. I grew up with Complex PTSD (CPTSD) like Hunter

3. I work as a therapist,

I thought to list down some things I can visualize happening in the duration of the finale's timeskip, before that beautiful epilogue we saw. And I want to dive in using whatever clues, leads and parallels I can find in canon: to analyze and see how he went from the Bad But Sad Boy to that peaceful-looking palisman carver in the epilogue.

A small reference I had for this meta is Cinema Therapy's episode on the Hunger Games movies (link), since the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen, from the book and also movie trilogy would have the same diagnosis as Hunter. Those books and movies explored how Katniss coped with the frightening and dramatically different landscape that was the calmness of her world post-victory.

Part 1: His Possible Experiences Leading Up to Seeking a Therapist

His disposition could possibly become like Luz's from early Season 3: a state of emotionally shutting down and numbing out. He appeared to nearly head in this direction right after he was revived by Flapjack, as he began to cry. There was that small window where he could have expressed more tears than he did, and have his body shut down under the weight of bereavement.

But the immediate physical threat, Belos, was still on the run. He got up, sprang into action and didn't catch a break from the time he followed Belos through the portal until he stood in The Collector's palace after Belos died (had he even received the news of his 'Uncle' dying yet??!).

Now that Belos isn't around anymore, the Isles will have a completely different feel and rebuilding the land would've taken grueling work after the dismantling of a damaging Coven System.

I was looking at Luz's behavior and gestures in Thanks to Them, which were indicative of her sinking into depression after 1. the horrible revelation in Hollow Mind that she unintentionally helped Philip. 2. witnessing Flapjack's death. I'm putting screenshots of her below in parallel with Hunter's own emotions in For the Future:

They have different mental health conditions if you talk symptoms, e.g. Luz doesn't show signs of CPTSD hypervigilance, while Hunter doesn't have that slowing down in his physical and mental activity which points to depression. But both have suffered from moral injury thanks to Belos's violence and manipulation.

However, a major comparison is that Hunter has had much more repressed emotion over a long period compared to Luz. The column with Hunter screencaps above, is what he may feel with a much higher intensity in the weeks and months after he first hears that his abuser has passed on.

Shown below, the few seconds of Hunter's big smile drooping when it was all over, was a big hint for me:

A hint that there is a deep undercurrent of emotions he'd much rather not feel, that he'd probably rather hide from himself. Even while smiling, we know how his heart-wrenching story has played out and the light in his eyes here doesn't match the brightness we see in his expressions in the epilogue, post-timeskip.

That is the face of a kid who has not cried out massive amounts of tears yet. He doesn't look like he's carrying a light load yet, compared to what we see in his future self. And it's certainly a heavier smile than the jollier one he makes here right after King's Tide when Flapjack was still around:

I can't imagine the amount of grief that his body has yet to dredge up and release, once he finally doesn't have to worry about his 'uncle' threatening his life anymore. Too many times to count, I've been in the situation where I cry intensely after being retraumatized and think "Huh? More tears? Where did it come from?? I thought I had cried it all out from my whole being the last time!". It kind of convinced me that anyone with CPTSD has so much grief stored up in their body that the number of times needed to have a good cry feels like a really endless expanse.

However: because I had 7 years of being in and out of therapy, what matters is that the durations between these episodes of mine, the durations of the episodes themselves, plus their intensity have reduced a lot. It was around a 4-year timeskip in the finale, so for Hunter to get as far as he did to heal, his own therapy sessions would've probably been rigorous and very consistent.

Anyway, he might now cycle through his own version of what Luz cycled through when she gradually shuts down from failing to build a new portal door in Thanks to Them, continually believes she's as bad as Belos, and when she alludes to her suicidal ideation in the classroom:

whereby there is a likely parallel between Luz wrestling with guilt from her own moral injury, and Hunter's own guilt from what he wished he could've done to prevent being possessed, to prevent Flapjack from dying. Both their situations are that of moral injuries.

The adrenaline rush would be over for everyone on the Isles.

I'm quite sure the therapists on the Isles will operate pretty soon after the news about Belos's death was out. They would conduct whatever version of mental health triage they have, that involves risk assessments and crisis counselling. Both of these based on what I've learnt are shorter in duration (30 minutes) and are one-off sessions, compared to regular talk therapy which is an hour minimum.

The therapists would be redirecting people to necessary resources e.g. where to find food or loved ones, and managing distress only related to people's immediate needs instead of forming a longer term plan for several weekly sessions.

I believe things are simpler when you are running away from an external threat, like the two Hunter scenarios below. In Hollow Mind there is no emotion on his face because in peak C-PTSD mode he has shut down his emotions to pour that energy into escaping Belos. In Thanks to Them, he appears quite obviously scared with widened eyes because he got comfortable with safety for months and Belos's return was a surprise attack (thanks ashanimus for pointing out to me how his expressions are animated!):

But what is there to run from now? Not an external threat for sure. The war zone is now the one in his mind, heart and soul and it would become front and center. I believe both these screenshots are two notches on a dial, and the missing third image - which would show him finding it difficult to stuff down the grief any longer, might look like a more exasperated version of when he told Willow "Please don't call yourself [a Half-a-Witch] ever again" in For the Future, and eventually a more depressed version of his vanishing smile in The Collector's Palace.

When can he really run from himself? Only while asleep, if he's spared nightmares on any given night, or while distracting himself with the main mission of rebuilding the Isles or continuing to bond with his friends and other people.

His anger in For the Future was a telling sign for me that he made sure his focus was still on an external threat: he still had the opportunity to do so back then, because Belos was still alive. But when we see him in The Collector's palace sending Willow off to her dads, there has realistically been a shift in what will threaten the more fragile shreds of inner peace he's still clinging on to. There are those scary trauma-related emotions to worry about, which wouldn't have just evaporated into thin air. They would be looking for a new outlet, and they'll find their way into flashbacks, nightmares, tension still stored in the body, an exaggerated startle response, etc.

We have seen a range of reactions he has to danger, triggers and emotional pain: some involve moving his body more, and fewer involve a short of shutting down:

Flinching during Belos's tantrums, being able to fight Kikimora calmly, freezing up in the throne room (Hunting Palismen)

Suicidal ideation and even a sort of suicide plan (Eclipse Lake)

Freezing up and expecting punishment from Darius (Any Sport in a Storm)

Being able to stay almost entirely calm as he learnt more and more of the truth about Belos, though his hand was shaking briefly, then a panic attack later on (Hollow Mind)

Lots of avoidance symptoms like numbing, combined with hypervigilance e.g. shivering and another panic attack (Labyrinth Runners)

Feeling fear with underlying shame and subconsciously expecting punishment, when he failed to save Luz (Clouds on the Horizon)

Freezing and recoiling, though he fought against this by asserting a boundary with Belos (King's Tide)

Panic attack when looking into the mirror and having an emotional flashback, hypervigilance e.g. stamping his foot and shivering (Thanks to Them)

Anger and rage to cope with bereavement, later being tearful (For the Future)

Most likely a sense of bereavement, deep exhaustion and possibly loneliness, during that briefly shown moment in The Collector's Palace (Watching and Dreaming)

The serious work he has to put in to heal from his trauma would begin once his whole body gives in to the exhaustion, catching up with the bereavement-related emotions that have also begun to settle in. It could be a massive emotional and physical collapse that he can't fight off, where his physical energy levels become tanked seemingly out of nowhere. And I think it would look like a worse version of him lying in his makeshift grave, where he is barely able to move around the house or anywhere for some time.

This happened to Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, and while the portrayal was done differently in the books and movies, both were good explorations of what it's like to shift from the default high alert (and long-term) mode of CPTSD to coping with the scary unknown world of newfound safety. Katniss spent her childhood in poverty and being constantly on edge that she might be chosen for the Hunger Games, being parentified, to provide for her family.

While participating in the games, she had to utilize battle skills and kill others to survive and sustained many injuries, still constantly on high alert whereby any respite would last for incredibly short durations. Towards the end of the story, after she loses the one she loved most (her sister Prim, who I think can be a parallel of Flapjack in this meta), Katniss shifts from peak physical activity into mostly sleeping and being actively suicidal for months, hardly moving and not leaving the house, until the shock of traumatic grief began to wear off. She absolutely crashed and went from one extreme to the other. In the movie Mockingjay Part 2, they added a non-book scene where her grief comes out in an outburst when she sees their pet cat hanging around on the kitchen counter. She flings an object in the cat's direction, then screams "[Prim] is gone!!" repeatedly before collapsing into heavy sobs, picking up the cat and holding it to her chest to soothe herself.

This kind of major collapse might happen very soon to Hunter after he leaves The Collector's Palace or only after some weeks. The timing of this, I can't predict. The reason why he didn't appear to have this issue in the early months being in the human realm is because there was still something external to concentrate on: help his friends get back to the Human Realm, help Luz reunite with Eda and King, while him and Flapjack hoped to go home too.

You could argue that even now, he still has something external to focus on i.e. helping the others rebuild the Isles. However I keep imagining that the people who love him are going to be quite adamant in getting him, Luz and the other kids to please rest. Since we saw Steve recommend his therapist to Lilith in O Titan Where Art Thou, I can picture the adults in particular monitoring how Hunter is doing without Flapjack.

But if this collapse I'm speculating about doesn't happen so soon, he would be pouring himself into helping others, referencing his character-centric line all the way back in Hunting Palismen about wanting to offer help, which he utters twice in that episode. There is an overlap between this expectation he has of himself and the old habit he's at risk of falling back into periodically: overworking.

Once his desire to help others is clearly comes across as an avoidance tactic on the outside - a maladaptive coping mechanism to run from the very difficult emotions that he should be processing - people around him are definitely going to set boundaries and say "No" to any attempts he makes to assist them. Someone is probably going to tell him that whatever desperation he is showing in wanting to help other people, needs to be redirected at himself. Making time and space for himself, taking time off to rest.

Him suffering from a major emotional and physical collapse is pretty likely because things are more complicated (though, physically much much safer) for him now than at the beginning of Thanks to Them when he had just fled from Belos to the human realm, and had Flapjack as his closest company. Fast forward to the victory won in Watching and Dreaming: both Flapjack and Belos are gone now.

It's telling that different thoughts are occupying Hunter's mind now, from how his expressions are drawn during his first days in the human realm vs. when peace is restored in the Isles.

1. See the sense of calmer urgency in his expression, putting the mission of building the portal door first, while experiencing a strong sense of togetherness with his friends, and learning to trust Camila who is treating him well:

compared to

2. the sheer exhaustion and feeling of "What now...?" (see his upper eyelids below?) that set in, once he helped Willow find her parents and there was no more task at hand that didn't involve himself. His bright smile from a split-second ago has drooped and disappeared:

I know that right after the above frame, Darius and Eberwolf reunited with him, but his emotions are going to cycle up and down in the hours, weeks and months ahead. The elation from seeing Darius and Eber - people who were there to greet him when he expected nobody to turn up - is not going to last, though it will certainly come and go, because high-running positive emotions like that don't last as long, especially in the context of the life he's had as a child soldier. It's totally possible that on the same night, hours after this reunion with their loved ones, their emotions will shift drastically.

The tired look in his eyes above and the sad face he then makes, is in between two moments of him having something external to focus on (Willow and then Darius). I'm inclined to think that the above depressed look reflects a lot of the complexity that is going on underneath the surface. What is his state of mind when alone with his thoughts, when he has zero tasks to perform? How is he handling those thoughts?

There will be a deep, sometimes mind-numbing sense of bereavement over two significant figures in his life. First Flapjack, now this:

He used to love Belos. But I'm really not sure he can just uproot that love from deep within and discard it. Hunter carries memories like the following ones around which will be confusing to navigate on tougher days, despite being able to tell Luz "That's what Belos does, he tricks people". Because these were his formative years:

and something tells me that Philip was cunning enough to strike a delicate balance between being 'nice' to Hunter like above, versus unleashing his violent temper to terrify and harm him. Making sure that balance was so close to 50/50 that it would leave a child very confused. So confused he would rather believe he's never good enough rather than the more frightening prospect that his so-called family does not actually love him at all.

Hunter will have a moment now and then of still missing the 'niceness' that his 'uncle' showed towards him (felt in his heart and subconscious), while still knowing (in his head, rationally) that Philip was not genuine when treating him that way.

To note though, he did not witness Belos's death which reduces the severity of intrusive images that the poor kid would see in his mind.

What I'm worried about is how he'll handle the news about the grimwalker graveyard, since I'm sure that location is going to be scoured and Darius would want to give his mentor a proper sending off. They'd want to give all the Golden Guards and Caleb a sending off and pay their respects. This might add to what I suspect will be the messed up depression he'll fall into.

It will be very confusing and emotionally disorienting, literally not needing to worry about anyone killing him anymore. He has had no point of reference for this in his life at all. It might possibly the furthest he ever goes from that primal survival instinct he had while living in the Castle for so long, which took up the majority of his life so far:

There will also be the added layer of how he feels about those first emotions. This is literally a concept called Feelings About Feelings and it's a key part of my work since I use the Satir Model in my style of counselling. We don't just feel emotions, we also tack on our own judgments and evaluations about them. E.g. shame about feeling anger, guilt about feeling sad because of burdening others, or even a combination like fear about feeling joy which can show up in healing from bereavement.

Depending on how we feel about whichever emotions got there first, it makes a difference because we could be adding or subtracting unnecessary suffering from the first emotion, especially if the first emotion is an already unpleasant one.

I have a feeling that we'd see Hunter look very very tired, till he makes breakthroughs in therapy. A tiredness that sleep, a healthy diet and exercise alone simply cannot fix. Because there's an entire upbringing in the Emperor's Coven to sort through in his head, this time not combined with the avoidance of having fled to the human realm and living under one roof with his friends.

The Hexsquad are not living under the same roof anymore, they are reunited with their own families with much to emotionally talk out, and the group no longer has a very urgent single collective mission. Sure, Hunter has an active role to play in rebuilding the Isles, but what about rebuilding his very self? He has the steepest climb, because we have seen the symptoms he exhibits.

Most of all, referencing a section of my Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1) meta (link), a memory as horrible as this:

will likely be the most intrusive image is going to be replaying again and again over the months to come, and it may flood his thoughts during moments of being triggered or even out of nowhere during quiet moments for no apparent reason. It will be just like a broken record, where the same small excerpt of a song loops endlessly until the needle of the gramophone is repositioned.

It was remarkably poignant that his final words to Belos were "And most of all, I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again", and I'm happy with the story keeping it this way and understand why the writers likely made this decision - not just because the season was shortened. Hunter did not need to directly see or hear more from Belos in close quarters, not after his abuser minimized his needs for years, gaslit him, possessed him and got him to murder his best friend with his own hands.

It's more straightforward to make sure someone else isn't hurting anyone. It's easier to think of what plans to implement, when it comes to him protecting others: which he has had plenty of practice with. Because those are practical methods that we can see in action on the outside.

But here's the kicker: what about applying that last grand statement from his TTT speech to himself, emotionally: making sure he isn't psychologically hurting himself with harmful unhelpful thoughts and beliefs, after Belos's death? "I'll make sure I don't hurt myself (and by extension, my loved ones) again".

This will be very new to him, and it is a theme that I handle in pretty much every client case in my therapy work. The client's self-dialogue, the self-compassion or lack thereof. Which, in real life, is often not a concept that our own families and schools introduce to us to be familiar with.

For Hunter, this may translate into him making the decision to get help and truly accepting the gift of life that Flapjack gave him.

Basically this on a much bigger scale:

whereby in Flapjack's absence, he can truly believe in this new and positive fundamental belief about himself. The evidence that he managed to make it to that heartbreaking but incredibly beautiful place is pretty strong:

But before his happy ending, the pressure on himself to be useful to others via helping and working is likely going to come back and be used as his way of coping, and there's a chance it will cross the line into becoming a form of self-harm that he's relying on to avoid the frightening, deeper emotional pain. People around him know him well enough that they'll be able to spot his behavioral changes and then sense he is not going in a helpful direction. They'll see that it's hurting him even though it's the most familiar territory for his mind to be in, and someone is going to tell him to change that.

He's going to be seeing his friends with their palismen. How will it be like being among them, even if they are pretty good at supporting him? How would he attempt to make sense of the void that is the absence of the incredible love he experienced from that first friend, the absence of that mental link between witch and palisman?

What emotions could be lurking beneath the surface? Believe it or not, there are some signs from Luz's nightmare even though yes, Hunter was being controlled by The Collector. I wouldn't quickly dismiss this dark Flapjack-related scene as 100% being about The Collector's goal to scare Luz in the nightmare.

I think there was a smaller subplot going on as well.

The Collector needed material to work with in the first place, to perform the puppet acts: the material was whatever fears and whatever pain was already there in their targets.

The Collector didn't create Hunter's emotions from scratch for the puppet act; instead he manipulated and redirected what existed at the base level. All this wouldn't work as analogies of mental illness vs. mental health if The Collector could just engineer emotions on their own and simply replace whatever his puppet targets were already feeling. Emotions never vanish and always take up space somewhere, they are redirected, transformed or channeled into outlets even if it means they become repressed or locked away. But they never stop existing.

I have a feeling that despite the nightmare being Luz's, despite Hunter being used as an instrument for The Collector to achieve their goals...the pre-existing emotions that Hunter himself felt in his body, not puppet!Hunter's verbal responses towards Luz, were true. He is a haunted boi.

This face he makes above might be a hint at the worst of his pain. It might be the furthest he has felt from when he said "I like who I am right now" to Flapjack. In the place of that confidence from before, there might now be his own version of Luz's "I'm as bad as Belos". I cannot be entirely certain, but the negative belief that may have taken root in him could be "I am not deserving of the life Flapjack gave me".

Interestingly, if this is the case, it could easily parallel his line from all the way back in Any Sport in A Storm: "I'm unfit to wear the sigil of the Golden Guard." It's definitely a possibility, since Hunter is now faced with having a lot of time and space now, and less urgency than he's ever had in his life, to think back on all those times he helped to further Belos's cause. Especially when it came to sending many palismen to their deaths.

With his own palisman now dead, the engraving we would eventually see on Flapjack's grave: "Thank you for finding me", would be the destination. But the journey needed to reach that destination of amazing gratitude in the first place...must have been a harrowing one. In the early months of the acute grief, it would've been more like "Why did you have to find me?! You shouldn't have. Then none of this would've happened". Not forgetting the number of times Hunter has replayed in his head what he could've done differently, trying so desperately to rewind the clock and make that better alternate timeline a reality.

If you remove The Collector and even Luz from the equation in the Luz nightmare scene, Hunter may well be having such responses - the ones that puppet!Hunter directed at Luz to blame Luz - as a dialogue with himself. He might direct those negative emotions towards himself since he's so careful about hurting others and has taken on unfair punishment for so much of his life.

Even when he was temporarily himself, smiling, expressing a positive emotion to encourage Luz with "What's the first thing you do when you wake up from a bad dream?", that was him conversing with another person, someone external. Not his own self. I am willing to bet he wasn't at a point in his arc where he would smile at himself like that and easily encourage himself in the same way.

While we can be certain he had already reached his breakthroughs by the time we saw him post-timeskip, he has not experienced them yet in the frame above. He has not felt (yet) what Luz felt onscreen when she had breakthroughs in relation to her moral injury:

Taking a leap of faith to accept the Titan's gift, to trust that he chose her because she has a good heart and will never be Belos.

Then later, being able to stand firm, believing she truly is good ("I am the Good Witch Luz!"), and not uttering a word to Belos as he died - which was post-traumatic growth beyond how she broke down under his threats and manipulation towards the end of Hollow Mind and later in King's Tide.

Recap time. In the (quite likely) long period that passes by before we meet his new palismen, he's likely going to want to jump into action and attend meetings with Darius, Eberwolf and co, help to physically rebuild things and organize people with his own Coven Head experience. Leaning back on the ingrained and familiar lifestyle of pouring himself into work and gearing towards burnout is certainly a risk to watch out for.

The Hexsquad, CATTs and the Clawthorne sisters are going to notice his behavior and likely urge him to get appropriate rest and seek help.

However, there is the other extreme: Belos isn't around anymore to torment him, and Hunter would know this in the rational sense (head knowledge). Which leads to the possibility that he may swing towards shutting down as opposed to overworking tendencies. He would feel allowed to do whatever he wants, in this new Boiling Isles, and he had months of opportunities to do that in the early part of Thanks to Them before Belos's return.

What I'm getting at is, if he didn't sleep enough before, he might swing towards sleeping too much after finally collapsing from the familiarity of survival mode into unknown but genuinely safe territory. If he cared too much about helping others before, he might swing towards a depressive state of apathy (the closest canon reference point would be him digging his grave: he was very disarmed in that scene to even think much about helping anyone including Belos). This is why the screenshot I used of his smile drooping in The Collector's Palace, feels like a big clue to me. This would be where Darius, Camila and other adults have to seriously keep watch over him.

In the Cinema Therapy episode I had as a small reference for this post, the licensed therapist who hosts the series mentions that "It takes a lot longer to put oneself back together than it took to fall apart." In Hunter's case, the "falling apart" period here refers to that collapsing I mentioned. It would be the time between:

1. the grief hitting him in full force: when he subconsciously understands and acknowledges that Flapjack isn't coming back (which...will involve hell of a lot of wailing and sobbing. Him having a full version cry of those first few tears he shed at the end of TTT),

and

2. the time when the painful shock from feeling the full force of the grief has decreased enough that it plateaus.

This falling apart stage may need to pass before he seeks therapy. If he tries going for sessions while still going through that shock and pain, it might be too much for him.

As terrible and sad as it sounds, a deep dark spiral like this might be necessary. It would be his body and mind wanting to compensate for several years' worth of unnatural hypervigilance which wasn't serving him in a advantageous way (i.e. surviving) any longer. His body and mind begging for rest at last, to try and make sense of everything that happened. This big collapse into depression would empty out the old and free up much room in him for new stories, beliefs and perspectives to take root. Depression is, after all, the body's attempt to (maladaptively) try and protect us by numbing us, or else we would be overwhelmed.

As someone whom we know keeps himself very busy, this could be the period where he is the furthest he has ever been from that old simpler life. Because his CPTSD-ridden body would be demanding more than ever that he compensates for a childhood and teen years' lack of general rest, he may not even have the strength to cope the way he did before. The only way he might possibly cope in this period is to go with the flow of that raging current and do exactly what his body is asking of him: getting real rest.

Like what happened with Katniss in the Hunger Games trilogy, this early grieving stage would emotionally be difficult and terrifying, like walking along a tightrope, finding balance between left and right to angle yourself as straightly as possible and walk forward. (the tightrope metaphor is what I use with some of my clients to explain swinging between extremes of coping mechanisms).

The missing pieces of the puzzle in his arc, in the 4-year duration before the timeskip, might be his own version of these points in Luz's arc:

where she sank lower before she realized her deepest wish and emotionally experienced her worst fear in her Watching and Dreaming nightmare.

For Hunter, these could look like the following:

Like Luz saying it'd be better for everyone that she permanently stays in the human realm, Hunter might say he wants to remove himself from his loved ones in some way, for good. Whether a literal suicide attempt (like Katniss from The Hunger Games) or not, I can't say for sure.

A parental figure trying to reach out to him, saying he is deserving of Flapjack's gift. But he still struggles to believe that. What matters though is this parental figure is present and he's not pushing them away.

Him hearing some confirmation of his deepest negative belief about himself, in his own nightmares. Like Luz hearing the most terrifying things she could ever hear - Amity's "You've been the real villain this whole time" and "But for the sake of everyone you hurt, I challenge you to a witch's [duel]".

Him being able to reach an emotional space where he can begin to question that unhelpful belief: "Am I really deserving of Flapjack's gift?", or something similar.

The big moment when he finally tells someone how he really feels about the possession, Belos's death, Flapjack's absence in this new supposed peace and quiet....this would be the important invitation for the other person to connect and meet his emotional needs, and is a lot like how support groups for addiction work: a client needs to acknowledge that they are struggling with a problem, not avoiding it with distractions any longer, and then seek help and express their need for said help.

I suppose the question is how soon Hunter might decide to accept professional help and give it a go: or whether he'd have the genuine need for space first and say "I need some time". Because one's rational mind can be ready to go for therapy, but their subconscious and body would find it too unpleasant if it's too soon. Every part of him would have to be ready to begin putting himself back together after the falling apart stage occurs.

The messed up experience of CPTSD is that you stay shockingly calm during real danger, but on the flip side have big, disproportionate freakouts during actually safe times. Compare how calm Hunter was when he smiled at Luz in her nightmare while he was tied up with puppet strings vs. his fear and shame when he couldn't save Luz in Clouds on the Horizon.

In a CPTSD memoir I read, the author describes that it was horribly frightening to hear her partner be in a bad mood and wash the dishes more loudly than usual, while during the pandemic, she felt completely calm seeing empty shelves in a supermarket when she struggled to get supplies.

From my own experience, I have experienced being pretty damn calm when bleeding out and needing hospitalization. But in a different year before that, I recall one afternoon alone in my house right before a vacation where a strong gust of wind very loudly slammed an open door shut next to where I happened to be standing, and I broke down sobbing from a retraumatization via an emotional flashback. Because it felt extremely real as if my abusive parent was lashing out to physically hurt me.

After a 5-year period of mostly being in talk therapy, and then a 2-year period of regularly scheduled EMDR therapy, my response if I have a door loudly slam shut near me now would maybe be a smaller-scale flinch and a flash of anger that would last about maybe a minute. Which is miles better than sobbing for half an hour and being dissociated and frozen in a memory for hours before I thaw out of that flashback.

Since the show's writing is just that good, I could look at Luz's depressive symptoms manifesting in Thanks to Them and see a likely parallel in Hunter's story moving forward, since we know how much this show also digs neat and tidy parallels. These are characters written for TV after all, so they'd have to fit a formula to an extent, to have compelling arcs and reach high and low points along said arcs.

Part 2: Therapy Itself

Part 1 was the setup to give a good amount of context: now for the technicalities of the therapy sessions themselves:

Like Adrian Graye said in Labyrinth Runners, Illusion Magic can sort through memories. We have seen from Gus's own powerful Illusion abilities that he could do so with Belos. It makes sense that a therapist does this in sessions to have a magnified version of how in our world, therapists exercise empathy by imagining what it is like to be their clients:

I would monitor whether his mood (what he is feeling within) and affect (how the emotions appear on the outside e.g. tone of voice, face expressions) are congruent. Congruence usually means a client is in less distress. Incongruence might mean they are in so much pain that they can't connect directly with the main emotion: the perfect example of this being Hunter laughing when digging his grave.

We therapists take note of aspects such as affect, mood, the client's motor activity, any indicators of psychosis, even down to things like how untidy their hair looks in case we get clues about the severity of their issues (this is called a Mental Status Exam, and we write what we see in our case notes per session).

Because CPTSD is so relationship-centric, I'd discuss how he's getting along with new parental figures (the Belos replacements who will heal him so much and change his life forever!) and friends.

If the Boiling Isles therapists use their own equivalent of EMDR therapy, which is theorized to be like a waking version of how REM sleep and REM-related dreams help our brains to sort through memories, it sounds like a great fit for his case. This intervention involves subconscious work and could help him reshape how he experiences memories of Flapjack and Belos. EMDR clients are expected to see vivid images popping up without control in their mind during the sessions, and they are quite symbolic e.g. seeing a grey sky often indicates grief, seeing lighter colors indicates more calm. This technique helps a client's subconscious rewrite their story the way they'd like it to be, and install new positive beliefs and emotions over time.

My own example of EMDR experiences from the second half of 2019 as a client, is it majorly changed how I related to my own abuser, got me to finally feel allowed to emotionally break away from her, even though she is still alive and even lives in the same building.

In the early sessions, I saw an image of my 5-year-old self being forced to wear an ugly grey apron that my abuser used for baking. The apron is a real object, not fictional, and the emotions I felt showing up were matching with the image: feeling very uncomfortable seeing a visual representation of my abuser's hold over me.

But in a later session after a few months, guided by my therapist, I saw a vivid image of my abuser receiving a sea burial. She was lying peacefully on the water surface and sank down until she was gone. That was me subconsciously burying any expectation that she could ever provide what I needed. This was so powerful that I could go home after that session and permanently (so far) be significantly calmer around my abuser.

Therefore if Hunter goes through something like this, he'd potentially be able to put Belos to rest and have it feel very real and true: and have significantly reduced distress about Belos-related memories. There is the potential for powerful breakthroughs for him here, especially also related to Flapjack's death and how challenging it might be to carve palismen in the beginning. Especially since in the worst case scenario, even touching palistrom wood might be enough to badly trigger him. I cover this particular point a bit more in my other meta, Retraumatization and Self-Soothing (Part 1).

We would also be discussing what he's implementing into his routine and what may benefit him. I would be seeing if he is able to laugh about things, be motivated enough to be outdoors and among people, experience pleasure when creating new things, and form closer bonds with parental figures (what I just listed is to do with neurotransmitters in the brain that increase mental health: serotonin, endorphins, dopamine and oxytocin).

If I were his therapist I might suggest that whatever volunteering tasks he does, he carries those out with his friends, and time should be allocated to managing and taking care of a specific demographic: children. Because I think it'd be a safe, low stakes form of unfamiliarity for him to have enough emotional distance from his traumatic memories. Early months of acute grief usually require such emotional distance.

Having a good dose of an environment like that alongside the other tasks where he's working alongside Darius etc, could help him because kids' emotions are less complex, and their infectious laughter and fun-loving nature may play a role in helping him be more open with his own inner child. His therapist would be seeking to draw out that inner child in their sessions, and that little child would need to feel safe enough to emerge.

Importantly, his future palisman: it would've been interesting if he did what Luz did with Stringbean and allowed the palisman to be whoever they wanted to be...that would've been a nicely organic process. But even if he had a good idea to incorporate a Flapjack-like design but change details like the color, I'm sure he thought it through very well. I'm certain that this was a major topic of discussion at some stage of his therapy. Discussing the guilt he'd feel about replacing Flapjack vs. still taking Flapjack with him in a new way.

Coming from a strengths-based angle: paying attention to which of his individual strengths he is shows and recounts in the session. If he needs reminding, I could give him a simple worksheet listing various positive qualities and ask him to circle/colour in which ones he feels he has, which then prompts further discussion and questions. Lastly, a powerful tool called reframing e.g. if he says he's worried about being a nuisance to his friends, I'll point out how much he cares about their comfort and affirm that place of kindness.

Work on inviting self-compassion into how he sees himself. Is he able to view himself the way he views his friends? If he remembers the encouragement he gave to Luz about "turning on the light", I would ask him what that would look like in his own life, symbolically.

Hunter's own life has been a really really bad dream for a very long time. He himself has to reach for that light switch and choose to heal by embracing Flapjack's ultimate gift to him.

And we can rest assured that Hunter did that.

Because this post-traumatic growth right here?

This looks like multiple breakthroughs have taken place while he's been receiving consistent care from an excellent community. And there's no way it was an easily won victory. It has been very much hard-won, after how dark the story became in Hollow Mind and Thanks to Them, and it looks like whatever breakthroughs he had left him pleasantly surprised.

It doesn't seem like his heart and soul can contain this much joy and hope, without a very painful dismantling to have taken place first, to make room for the most unexpected treasures to fill his life back up.

The joy becomes even greater if you never would've expected it in your wildest dreams.

#toh hunter #toh analysis #toh spoilers #the owl house #loz writes a meta

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avatarkv · 1 year

Text

Cupid’s got me on a chokehold.

✎ Synopsis ! You and Neteyam are obviously in-love with each other, so what exactly was holding you back?

Content & warning ¡ Aged up Neteyam! x Human!Reader. (aged him up because idk how ages work between na’vi and humans, no smut! just kissy-kissy) tooth-rotting fluff, finally. gotta keep my sweet child alive this time (wc; 4471)

You were always confined within the comfort of your lab and it amused Neteyam to no end. You were surrounded by stunning scenery that anybody would kill to get an eyeful of, yet here you are, laser-focused to whatever you were working on in front of multiple screens.

You were tasked to step into the shoes of Grace Augustine and you took the responsibility gratefully, not wanting her work to be put in vain. You admired her deeply, to the point that you’d watch her every log before you sleep— remarkable woman, she is. It was now time for you to honor her legacy with ambition of your own— a worthy successor taking the reigns and continuing in her stead, pushing her work forward with every ounce of energy you had.

Today was no different; you were cooped up in your little space, desk cluttered with papers and coffee stains evident from the multiple drinks you had. A knock interrupts your focus, taking your eyes off your journal.

"You've got some visitors," Norm abruptly announced, rolling your chair towards the door before you had a chance to reply. You gripped tightly onto the armrests of your chair as you felt yourself suddenly tipping forward, away from your workplace– curse Avatar strength. You could only shoot him a glare as you pushed your glasses upright, standing up from your seat.

“How’s my girl?” A smile immediately grows on your lips as Neteyam greets you. He had a voice like warm, rich honey; when he talked, it was difficult to hear anything else. He reserved such fondness in his tone just for you, it was hard not to swoon. You extend your hand from your forehead, greeting him their way.

“I’m pretty sure your girl has not showered since the last time we visited,” Lo’ak joked from behind, earning a snicker from Spider.

“Ha-ha,” You removed your lab coat and stretched, clothes tightening as you relieve your bones from sitting in a hunched position for who knows how long– you have got to work on your posture. You groaned in satisfaction as you heard your joints crack. “What brings everyone here?”

The Sullys' had ventured out, with the exception of Tuk who was eagerly watching out for everyone’s return, with Spider. They were tinkering with the different machines that littered the lab, teasing each other, and chatting with the other avatar drivers they were familiar with.

“Setting aside my disgustingly in-love brother and his constant requests,” Kiri gave Neteyam a knowing glance which he returned with him rolling his eyes, “We’re actually here to remind you that you need to move your legs and walk. You’re more busy these days, we’re kind of worried.”

You were closer with Kiri, though you didn’t admit it openly, you shared many of the same interests. Much to the boys’ dismay, you went out with her more, exploring the forest and experimenting all sorts of things. While you busied her with your lifestyle, she was just as ecstatic with sharing hers. You learned how to weave, discovered the many healing ways of Na’vi as well as making new ones. You and Kiri were two peas in a pod, both intelligent and cunning, with a shared passion for learning.

“Just.. working on something new,” You replied sheepishly and it made Neteyam’s eyebrow quirk up in curiosity; it was unlike you to not tell him about your works and he could tell from your tone that it was something huge. “It’s going to be worth it, I promise!”

Neteyam couldn’t help but revel in your passionate display, he swears you glow when you talk of your interest, stars twinkling in your eyes. He absolutely hated anything related to the sky-people and their affairs, but he’d listen to you talk endlessly about it, even if the words that would often reach his ears were foreign and had no clue what it meant.

He won’t admit it, but he would sometimes ask his father for English lessons; slyly asking him about words that he didn’t understand and Jake would eagerly answer nonetheless. Oh eywa, he was a huge simp. (He learned that word from Lo’ak, who knows where this man’s vocabulary is coming from.)

“You okay, ‘Teyam?” You tilted your head and looked up at him through your lashes and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks when he realized he had been staring again– how easy you could make this mighty warrior helplessly smitten with just a glance was embarrassing. He had sharply averted his gaze, visibly gulping.

Unbeknownst to him, you weren’t oblivious to his watchful eyes. He may have thought he could take in your every move without you noticing, but you knew all too well when his gaze lingered. No matter where you roamed or how hard you tried not to look back in his direction, his eyes had a way of finding yours and planting itself there. You both were absolutely enamored with each other and it was painfully obvious.

Lo’ak was the one to break the silence, pushing you from the back, “Okay, nerd, get your mask because we’re going.”

The walk to the village was peaceful, aside from Lo’ak and his loud mouth, you were actually grateful that they forced you out the lab. Sunshine cascaded in through all the leaves and greenery, casting its pleasant warmth throughout your path. You could feel its rays radiating on your skin as it moved across the landscape– it was a beautiful day.

Neteyam kept a protective hold on your waist as you ventured through the forest. You felt his grip tightening whenever there were overgrown branches or gnarled twigs along the way– he was keen on holding down leaves for you to pass through and picking on every pretty flower to secretly tuck into your hair (He saved some for Tuk and his mother).

When you arrived, Tuk was the first to rush and greet you, running towards you at full speed and nearly tackling you to the ground. Despite her being the youngest, she was almost your height. She gave you a hug, tightly wrapping her arms around your waist in an embrace. “__!”

“Please be careful, Tuk,” Neteyam scolds from behind, holding you securely.

You returned the hug, wrapping your arms around her “How’s my favorite Sully?” You asked, leaning in to kiss her forehead as if she wasn’t literally the same size as you. Tuk giggled in reply, while the other’s expression dropped in disbelief.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Kiri mutters from the side.

"I got the whole day planned out!" Tuk jumps around ecstatically, her enthusiasm contagious. "We braid each other's hair, then we make necklaces! We can go for a swim in the pond that's just further into the forest, and then!" She takes a big pause for breath before continuing with her plans. "After we get back from our swim, we can play some more–”

“Hold up, Tuk, What are we supposed to do while you do your girly things?” The youngest blew raspberries, as if to tell him that no boys were included in every activity. Being the child Lo’ak is, stuck his tongue out as well.

“Well we do need extra hands on the spot right now,” Jake interjects, emerging from behind the bushes, breathing heavily like he had run back here. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, “There’s some movement down north and we’re heading to check it out. We need spotters while we scout the area.”

“Hello Mr. Sully,” You greeted him and the hard expression that had been on his face momentarily softened. He gave a single curt nod in response, but you could tell he was somewhat surprised to see you there.

“Is it serious?” Neteyam immediately asks, face contorting to complete worry. It might’ve been a bad time to bring you out here and he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“No, no.” Jake was quick to ease his worries, shaking his head. “Hopefully not, but it’s best if we move out now.”

Neteyam quickly turns to you and your expression mirrored his concerning one. He rested his hand on your shoulders, “Wait for me here, alright?” You nodded, taking hold of his hand and gently massaging it in comforting circles. This small gesture seemed to ease the tension within him and he squeezed your hand affectionately before running off to their hut and grabbing his bow.

Jake watched as the scene unfolded before him, a feeling of familiarity washing over him. He couldn't help but grin as he said his goodbyes, catching himself in his own reminiscing– young love was just something else and he found it brewing between you and his son, just like how his and Neytiri’s grew.

Your gaze followed their retreating figures as they were swallowed up by the towering trees and cascading vines. You remain still for a few moments, worried for whatever awaits their travel, not until Tuk softly grabs onto your wrist and pulls you to follow her alongside Kiri. With a deep breath, you trailed behind, ready to spend the day with them.

The sun shone brightly as the day carried on. It was hard not to enjoy yourself, not when Tuk was radiating such energy. Even after all the hiking and climbing, her excitement remained in every activity. It was infectious, you loved this bundle of joy with all your heart. It only seemed to calm when you laid on the rocks, drying yourselves after swimming. She swears she only needs to nap, a recharge, before continuing with her plans– but as soon as her soft snores hit your ears, you knew she was done for the day.

You chuckled before shutting your eyes yourself. The sun is warm and pleasant, the breeze refreshing. It feels like an eternity since you have been able to just let go of stress and simply enjoy the present. You take in all of nature's serenity, letting it fill every inch of you with solace. You breathe in deeply as your lungs fill with crisp air and then exhale slowly, releasing any tension that has gathered up within you.

After a while, the sound of Kiri’s voice jolts you awake. “When are you telling my brother?”

Unable to process her words yet, you turn your head to her in complete confusion, “What?”

“Oh you know, you and your obvious feelings for him.” She replied casually, almost smug even. “You both are so disgustingly in love with each other, what’s with all the hold up?”

“Kiri, I’m human,” You told her, like it was all the reason she needs to hear, but her gaze is relentless– beckoning you to continue. “Not until my avatar is finished, at least. I wanna be able to hold him, to feel him without constraints. Do you know how much rash I’m getting from this stupid mask? It’s so itchy and the straps are never tight enough or loose, it’s just–” You were rambling at this point, frustrations boiling over.

You groaned, “But that’s besides the point. I wanna be able to look at him like I’m capable of taking hold of his heart myself, not like this.”

She chuckled, her eyes turning away from you and back up to the sky. “Believe me, you already have it.”

Neteyam marched back to the familiar path towards their home, shoulders heavy in disappointment. It was a false alarm and they were greeted with nothing but stray animals littered around the forest. Unfortunately for him, the day was already ending and there was no doubt that everyone would be tired already when they returned. When he arrived, Tuk was sleeping soundly, nestled in Kiri’s embrace. Her chest heaved ever steadily with each gentle breath as you brushed back the braids that covered her face, careful not to wake her.

He quickly strides over to you, gripping your shoulders in his hands and at first, you are taken aback by the sudden hold on your body. Then, as soon as you recognize who it is, a wave of relief washes over you; Neteyam was back and you were more than glad that he had returned unharmed, “‘Teyam! How did it go?”

Before he could reply, Kiri gave him a teasing look before speaking. “I’m gonna go and tuck Tuk in, she’s all yours brother.”

After a beat of silence, Neteyam was the first to speak. “Bet Tuk had tired you out,” You laughed heartily as you both stared as Kiri made her way back to their hut with Tuk, “But I need you for one more journey, you up for it?”

He had a way of looking at you, one that couldn’t be denied. His eyes pleaded– begged for you to follow, and he could see the desire in your own eyes when you stared back. What’s a few scolding from Norm when you could spend time with Neteyam? “Lead the way, mighty warrior.”

You pestered him the whole journey, asked him where he was taking you every second. Neteyam would only laugh in reply, shaking his head to tell you that you just have to see for yourself. Not long after, the tree of voices shone from a distance, and you felt your lips parted in awe.

You’ve only heard of it from Grace in her videos, so to finally witness it yourself felt absolutely unreal. You were completely staggered by its splendor, you couldn’t help but ghost your fingers over the glowing vine-like roots– it was beyond anything you had ever imagined. Pandora was quite the treasure, the lush greenery and the remarkable landscapes of this world amazed you at every turn; it always felt like a dream when you let yourself wander around.

As you walked further aimlessly, like the sight itself had lulled you to come closer, Neteyam remained unmoved. His gaze was fixated on you, intently following each step you took, as the lights shone around your body like a gentle embrace. He was surrounded by such beauty, and it seemed like the only masterpiece here was you.

When you finally turned and noticed his absence, you smiled and beckoned him to follow– Oh Eywa, save him now, he knew he was as good as dead. His heart raced in his chest and he felt like his lungs had suddenly stopped working; the plan he so carefully thought of had evaporated and his mouth had gone dry. You stood there so prettily and it made him feel small.

He slowly made his way towards you, holding onto your forearm. Only now did you notice his stiff shoulders, how cold his skin was in contrast to the warm atmosphere. You worriedly gazed upon him as you tried to decipher his expression, figuring where the underlying tension came from. You stepped back slightly, getting a good look on him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Your voice was quiet, but it was enough to draw Neteyam’s attention. He couldn't help but take notice of every detail in your face; the lilac light bathing you in its hue as he memorized the way you looked. His gaze dropped to the floor briefly before he met your stare again, unable to look away for even a second. “I am of age already,” his voice started out small, “Mother has been asking me if I have chosen.”

You knew of their tradition, knew how life goes for everyone, but to hear it from him had caused a sting from the inside. Neteyam would need a mate– a strong Tsahik that would accompany him once he takes on the role of being the clan leader and it hurts to think that you could never fit that role. “Have you?” Your eyes widens, peering up at him. It was difficult to ignore the distinct tone of disappointment in your words, and the way it hung in the air.

“No, not yet.” He was quick to answer, wanting to ease the worried look on your face, “Not until you choose me too.”

“Oh, Neteyam,” His words came as a shock and you could hardly process them. The sound that escaped your lips could only be described as dejected, like you had instantly denied him without a second thought and you were now considering how best to reject him gently. His heart sank, trying his best not to be discouraged– not yet.

He chose you. He’s choosing you and he’s waiting. His words reverberated like an echo inside your mind and it caused you to complete dysfunction. This moment of indecision felt both exhilarating and paralyzing all at once; it was enough to make your heart pound faster in your chest as apprehension took hold of the moment. You clearly liked him too, the great mother knows how much your soul yearns for him, but this is something you shouldn’t decide on the course of your emotions. You knew very well how impossible it was.

“I don’t think you should fall in love with someone like me,” Your words were heavy, unwilling, as they escaped your lips. You wanted nothing more than to run to him, to tell him that you’ve chosen him the very moment you laid your eyes on his– but you chose to bite your tongue.

“Someone like you?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unable to comprehend.

You shook your head and raked your fingers through your hair, feeling the frustration coursing through you. “Someone that’s not like you.” You rephrase, hoping that he gets the message. “You are to be olo’eyktan and I’m not even Na’vi– the people won’t approve of us.”

You didn’t miss how his eyes had turned crestfallen; you were sure you could even hear his own heart breaking. His grip loosened as he walked past you, striding through the hanging vines, “This place is for prayers to be heard.”

You trailed behind him desperately, “Neteyam, listen to me–”

He quickly cuts you off, turning sharply towards you. “And I’ve been told what to do my entire life, __. What I must do, how I should act.” Neteyam’s shoulders are slumped defeatedly as he looks at you, grabbing both your hands, caging it with his, and warming it with a soft kiss. “You’re the only thing I’m asking for and I’m begging to be answered.”

His voice is pleading and you hate to be the one to let him down. With another heavy sigh, you reluctantly drew your hands away from his, “Are you willing to wait?”

You plagued his mind. You had not visited, nor had he either. The days seemed to drag on, and still there was no word from you.

It cost him his peace of mind; Neteyam has been slacking on his duties and his own family was not blind to the fact that their usual patient eldest had become irritable, a frown gracing his face everyday as he continued with training. His mind had been troubling him and his stomach had been twisting and turning into an ever-tightening knot. He wanted to come see you, heck, he’d even take his words back if it meant everything would stay the same.

This day was no different. The training went south and all his shots were off their mark, stance completely off. His frustrations mounted when the whisperings took place and realized they’ve been talking about him, the humiliation was unbearable– he just couldn’t think straight.

“Trouble in paradise, bro?” Lo’ak had followed after his brother, who had just gotten a scolding from Jake. He had dismissed him harshly, feeling just as frustrated from how his eldest was acting these days. “How did the plan go anyway?”

“Horrible!” He immediately blurted out, followed by a loud groan. “It was stupid to catch her off guard, it was stupid to tell her by surprise.” He knew in that moment that he had erred greatly; there was no way to undo the shock and upset you must have felt that very moment. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him, regret coursing through his veins with each passing second.

Lo’ak threw his head back in surprise. He had never seen his usually composed brother like this before, the last few days consisted of nothing but pure panic and it was hard not to enjoy seeing his brother all frantic. “What were you meant to do? Say, hey __ I’m about to confess to you at the tree of voices, compose yourself alright?”

He groans for what feels like the millionth time today, “What are you doing here, Lo’ak?”

He crossed his arms with a smug expression, “‘bout to give you words of advice because unlike you, I’m a hit with the ladies.” Neteyam let out an exasperated sigh and swatted his brother’s shoulders in an attempt to silence him.

“Get lost, you’re not helping with anything.” His temper was reaching its boiling point as he desperately tried to convince Lo’ak to leave him alone, wanting nothing more than to be left to his own self-pity.

Lo'ak finally concedes, turning to make his way back on the path he came from. "She likes you too, maybe even more than you do," he says before stopping. "Believe me, the wait is worth it!" He raises his voice and then continues walking away until he is lost among the trees.

He knew something that he didn't and it makes him more and more agitated.

He ventured further into the forest, sitting down on a nearby stump and carefully tending to his arrows. He sharpened each tip with precision, eyebrows furrowed heavily in concentration. Not long after, his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps softly padding closer. As the steps grew louder, he knew someone was coming towards him. He tensed up, wanting nothing more than to send Lo’ak away again.

“What do you want this time, Lo’ak?” His tone was harsh and he didn’t even spare him a glance. Neteyam was met with a chuckle that sounded nothing like his brother’s and immediately, his heart started to race.

“Penny for your thoughts, mighty warrior?” You cringed on the inside, feeling absolutely lame.

His head snaps up, eyes widening in shock. "___?" he blurts out in disbelief.

“Surprise?”

His mind has got to be fucking with him. Neteyam immediately stands, taking a few hesitant steps towards you– or at least, what he thought was you. You were Na’vi– You no longer bore your usual appearance of green cargo pants which were always slightly too large in size and that stained shirt that had countless coffee marks splattered across it, now changed with nothing but a beaded necklace and a loincloth like theirs.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander— every curve and creases of your body, the stripes that adorned your blue skin, the plain between your breasts. You weren’t you but there was no doubt that it was your sweet voice that he heard; the same doe eyes that peered above him, the same gaze that held so much wonder.

You visibly gulped at his reaction as his gaze continued to travel over your avatar, the silence making you a bit uneasy. You had worked tirelessly on your creation; multiple cups of coffee had kept you up all night, and your human body had most likely shed pounds due to the lack of nutrition. After he had confessed, you knew you had to finish immediately– wanting nothing more than to feel him around you without him being so protective of your fragile body. You tilted your head to meet his intense stare, nudging him softly, “Neteyam, say something.”

This was what you’ve been working on for months, he has realized, you had successfully created your own avatar.

“__?” He called your name again, mouth agape and unsure.

“Wanted to surprise you,” Your voice trailed off, fingers softly grazing his rigid shoulders. You bit your lip anxiously, nervously awaiting his response. He stared at you intensely, and you couldn't help but feel like a tiny little speck under his gaze. “So.. what do you think?” You finally asked him after a few moments of silence had passed between the two of you.

“Think I need to..” He said, barely above a whisper as he gently tugged you close against him, unconsciously licking the bottom of his lips. “Think I need to confirm a hypothesis.” He finished, grabbing your hands to rest above his shoulders while his hands landed on the curve of your hips, rubbing circles on the skin with his thumb. Your breath caught in your throat, the tiny flutter of butterflies beginning to riot in your stomach. It was unlike him to be so bold— always hesitant to hold you in any way when you were in your human form. You looked so fragile, so little beside him.

But now he could hold you close and he was trying so hard not to close the distance, doing his best to keep his composure despite the unbearable temptation to bridge the gap between you and him. You kept him waiting for weeks, his needs were dire.

A laugh slipped from your lips and Neteyam’s ears perked up delight from the sweet sound, “Hypothesis?” You muttered incredulously. The word rolled so foreignly from his tongue, accent thick, and you didn’t believe he was capable of picking up some of the terms you used in the lab. You realized he had been listening despite his dislike towards your kind. “Where did you get that word, huh?”

He chuckled in reply, so low you could feel it vibrate from the lowest pits of your stomach. “Come on, pretty girl, just need a sample from you,” Neteyam lifted your chin, leaning in closer— “If you let me,”

You closed the gap yourself, sealing a kiss on his lips. It was soft against yours, almost like it matched the sweetness of his voice– everything about him was goddamn perfect. You felt a shiver down your spine as he kissed you back, hand snaking up to hold your nape tenderly. The world seemed to stand still around the two of you, suspended in that very moment. Eywa had answered and she makes no mistake.

You could feel his lips curving into a knowing grin as he feels you pulling away, both of you breathless and giddy. You drew away from him, trying to steady the pace of your heartbeat, “Final verdict?” You joked, smile growing.

His response was immediate, eager, as he reached out for you again. Neteyam brushed back strands of your hair while drawing you impossibly closer– his gaze remained fixed on yours and you could feel how his heart pounded against your own,

“Think I need more than just one kiss from you.”

☆ mauve here! this has got to be one of my favorite works i have ever written here because god damn, i am giggling like a mad man over my own fic. love neteyam w all my heart it's crazy, this man deserves a rest !!!!!

tags: @aonungsmate @divineei (HI !!!!)

#mauve writes ☆#neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam brainrot #neteyam sully #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x fem!reader #avatar #fluff #kiri #tuktirey #lo'ak #spider

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biceratops7 · 11 months

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… let’s talk about “Arrival”

So I was fully intending on making a more general but thorough peruse through the new Good Omens title sequence, because my FUCK aren’t those always a gold mine. But then I thought to myself, “hey wait a minute, I can be even more unhinged and on brand.”

Something I’ve seen nobody talk about yet is that the movie that the procession is marching into is The Arrival, which is a 90’s movie that draws a pretty straightforward parallel. But I think if it doubles as a reference to 2016’s Arrival, THAT has some much more interesting implications. Either way this reference is doing some heavy lifting.

For those who haven’t seen the movie (or that one philosophy tube video about it lol), the basic plot is that a group of aliens later named heptopods arrive on earth scattered across the world, and just kind of invite humanity to check them out. Each country hires a team of linguists who are all tasked with figuring out what the visitors are here for. But the thing is, it’s only about aliens on the surface level. This is really about communicating, cooperation, and how language holds the power to alter your very fabric of reality.

Spoilers for the movie:

Two major revelations occur towards the end of the movie. The first is that an element of fluid time is revealed. Throughout the movie, the main American linguist has been having flashbacks to a daughter that passed away of an illness. But since the heptopod language has no regard for chronological order, we learn that these are actually flash-forwards when she becomes nearly fluent. In other words, learning heptopod, having a genuine curiosity and even compassion for these vastly different beings. has given her the ability to perceive reality in ways thought previously impossible.

Even before noticing the Arrival reference, I’ve been side eyeing these “flashbacks”, but this and the image above confirmed it for me. Any instance of the word “becoming” when talking about the past indicates some sort of fluid time nonsense. The past is fixed unless something ✨happens✨. I don’t think these are simply memories, I think something rather cosmic instead is afoot.

But it’s more than just “there’s probably time travel in this” though. Simply having Aziraphale as a companion has changed Crowley. It’s given him an ability that he’s not meant to be capable of as a demon. He already had it in him to be good and have mutual relationships based in trust and kindness, I’m sure all demons can if given the right nurture… but Crowley is experiencing love. In the show, something tangible to the senses and distinctly angelic. I’m very much hoping that that whole element of things is going to somehow be a driving factor in what’s occurring over all, and possibly involved in time going screwy.

The other element of Arrival’s ending that’s of import, is the heavy emphasis on the importance of cooperation. First of all, we learn at some point that not every country has the same message to decipher, they each have one piece of a whole. Some of the countries begin using games to communicate with their heptopods, and this poses a problem because it causes messages to be more easily interpreted as hostile. For example, the phrase “we brought a tool” can be easily misconstrued as “we have a weapon.” Eventually, the world gets impatient and scared, and a war is imminent. What finally leads to everyone putting down arms and cooperating, is the American linguist sending a message to the Chinese linguist saying “in war, there are no victors, only widows.”

Something noteworthy about this particular march is that the procession never splits like it does at the end of the first season’s. Not only are both angelic and demonic figures marching into the light atop a mountain as a United front, but this actually seems to be a theme this season. Heaven and Hell aren’t working together as far as we know, but they are at least working towards the same goal, which for some reason is getting Gabriel’s ass. There is also a heavy emphasis on mending broken relationships, with Crowley and Azirphale trying to fix a (probably) lesbian couple literally being the B plot.

Now this is where we bring in what’s actually on the movie screen, which is that damn box. So at this point we know basically nothing about it accept for it probably being a Mcguffin. But we DO have the imagery of three feathers, a black one, a white one, and a bluish grey one, falling into it… and it sure as fuck looks like a moving box. So back to arrival, what actually was the message? The heptopods told the linguist that they’re here to help humanity (via giving them a tool or new tech I think?) because in 3,000 years, they will need humanity’s help. So with this and the world eventually being inspired to stand down and share their pieces of the message, it’s this over arching theme of setting aside fear of the other and cooperating indefinitely for the benefit of the whole. The black feather, the white feather… and then something that is somehow both yet entirely unique.

I think… somehow, someway, this season may culminate in Heaven and Hell reconciling. Whether it be against a common enemy, for a shared goal, or in love, there seems to be many clues both symbolic and literal that show them learning to be one again. Learning to understand eachother’s language and see new ways of being neither before could fathom.

#by the way the last image (not the meme) are Aziraphale and Crowley circling eachother in a dance like pattern… like twin stars…#so close they may from a great distance appear as one…#good omens #season 2 #speculation #meta #analysis #ineffable husbands #Aziraphale #Crowley #arrival 2016 #season 2 title sequence #biceratops

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uptoolateart · 11 months

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Hey, hey, hey - time for a Gabriel analysis!

So. After we learned that Gabriel Agreste wasn't his original name, my mind jumped to Andre Bourgeois, who also once had a different name. In keeping with the themes of the show, we are seeing that secret identities don't always come with masks and comic book names.

We had a hint of Gabriel's secret past in Psycomedian, when Harry visited and alluded to his Gabi days. How, oh how could the Gabriel Agreste we all know have ever been friends with someone like Harry Clown? This is only possible if he was once a different sort of person.

We had further clues in Gabriel's vision of the past, in the time burrow in Evolution - and in Emilie's video messages left for Nathalie, and the photographs of Gabriel, Emilie and Nathalie on some expedition, seen in Passion - and in Amelie's accusation that Gabriel has changed, in Emotion.

Adrien is also aware his father has changed with time, demonstrated when he tells Gabriel that Emilie once said they came from different backgrounds.

The photos shown in Revelation finally gave concrete evidence that Gabriel used to have an adventurous spirit and he used to smile. He was fun...but something changed...and I don't think it was just Emilie's death that caused the personality shift. Based on casual comments Adrien has made throughout the series, his father has been strange for years.

Gabriel tells Adrien that he and Kagami are 'of the same design' - and we know he means this literally. But taking it as a metaphor...for two seasons I've wondered what Emilie's parents were like. We can infer that she comes from a wealthy, 'important' family. Maybe Gabriel struggled to fit in and win the approval of his in-laws. Maybe he never felt good enough. When he tells Adrien things like, 'You're clinging to Marinette because her mediocrity lets you shine more,' perhaps someone once talked like that about him. With that kind of background, it would be unsurprising that he decided to try to forge a new identity.

And let's remember that Gabriel is a designer. His whole empire is founded on inventing personae. Even beyond the sentimonster aspect, he tells Marinette that he designed the image the world holds of his son. Everything is his invention. That speech in Pretension proved just how deep his God complex runs - he fully believes he has made the world in his image. Even the episode title - Pretension - smacks of the image he is presenting to the world in lieu of truth.

At this point, what we're seeing is a 'new money' stereotype - a self-made man who now spurns those who remind him of where he came from. It's one of the most shameful things about him. No matter how much fame and money you get...you can't forget your roots, people. Maybe that's easy for me to say because I'm not rich or famous. But I just can't imagine turning my back on my own origin story. It's what makes you who you are. Gabriel clearly didn't want to be that person anymore...and that's sad.

What's also fascinating is that, if we zoom in on those pictures Nathalie took in Revelation, we see that once upon a time, Gabriel - Gabi Grassette - was a punk. Let's take a moment to appreciate the spiked hair, makeup, leather jacket, ripped jeans, and dog collar - not to mention that smirk. And far from being ashamed of his work with Harry Clown as a human frites (who, by the way, reminds me so much of Mr Banana), he was smiling about it. Man, he loved it. Contrast that with Gabriel in Party Crasher - 'JOY.... What's going on in my HOUSE!?'

If it were at all possible for the old Gabi to meet Cat Noir, I can imagine him loving Cat's costume. On that note, I can't help but compare that dog collar with Cat's bell. I've said before that I see the bell as a symbol of Cat being domesticated and under control. Gabi probably saw his dog collar more as a rebellion, but maybe it too is a symbol of how he once felt controlled by someone.

The thing is...the punk movement was all about anti-establishment anti-authoritarianism. Today, Gabriel is the establishment he once rebelled against. It makes me think of John Lydon of the Sex Pistols turning Conservative and advertising butter. Musicians like Donovan - not a punk, but in a similar category, as a 1960s hippie - are rare for maintaining that same spirit all through their lives.

Gabriel is a 'sell-out'. He gave up that spirit and became someone unrecognisable. Those photos demonstrate that Emilie isn't the only body buried in a 'basement' in the Agreste mansion. There is a different person buried under the cold veneer that is Gabriel - a person Nathalie probably misses. I expect that's why she's stuck with him all this time, despite her better instincts. Something tells me Gabi would've made a better father.

The irony is that Adrien's moments of rebellion are probably one of the few things he has in common with his father, if we look far enough back in Gabriel's past. That, and their temper - and randomly breaking into eccentric dance and song. Gabi might have appreciated Adrien more for standing true to his principles. Maybe Adrien sometimes reminds Gabriel of himself and he can't stand it - can't stand thinking of what he's lost along the way.

I believe Gabriel exists in a perpetual state of regret. Part of him probably misses Gabi, too. After all, Gabi got Emilie. What has Gabriel got? Wealth, sure, but Emilie's dead, Adrien all but hates him, Nathalie's wasting away, and Gabriel himself has only weeks to live.

If you think about it, Gabriel's whole quest has been about getting a do-over. He wants a second chance with Emilie - a second chance for Nathalie - a second chance at his own life. He then tells Adrien that his greatest wish is to try to reconnect with him...because he knows he doesn't have much time left with his son. Even then, though, his selfishness prevails. (Psst, Gabi...you can't make up for years of terrible parenting with banana pancakes.)

Thinking of the snake miraculous, the second chance lets you know what's going to happen, enabling you to make better decisions the next time around. In other words: it's about learning from your mistakes. Gabriel never learns, and it is his refusal to accept destiny and his own human fallibility that is causing his disintegration.

The more Gabriel necrotises, the more we can see this as his 'sins' catching up with him. He doesn't seem to grasp that all the blackness devouring him is, in a way, the blackness of his own heart. Even if he erases the whole world, he can't erase his deeds. If he managed to get his Wish and bring Emilie back, she would be horrified. She'd wonder where her Gabi went.

Gabriel is proof that 'evolution' isn't always positive. He reinvented himself once, and now, because it didn't go the way he wanted, he's trying to reinvent things again. Tomoe also hints at a belief that the solution to her problems is to make the world anew - to get a second chance. Felix tries this, too, when he creates the red moon to wipe out all people except his select group.

But Felix does learn - Ladybug helps him see that even if you erase all the people causing you so much grief...you still have to deal with that pain. What Gabriel fails to see is that - like Cat Blanc on the roof, all alone without his lady - destroying your witnesses won't remove the witness in your own heart.

Even if Gabriel wiped everyone else's memory of his crimes, he would still know what he'd done. And when you cross those kinds of lines, you can never go back to who you once were.

Please no post-Revelation spoilers in the comments :)

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spicyclover · 7 days

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No one can hurt you

Summary : A dinner of revelation and tragedy.

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

DISCLAIMER : Rewrite and final version of "All the things you said" | Netflix show: One Day at the Time | Elena’s Story part | Season 3, ep 2. WARNING: mention of physical and verbal aggression! Su*c*de WARNING !R@PE! WARNING: mention of SU*C*DE WARNING TOUGH CONTENT, BE AWARE

DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction and has no correlation with reality. All site names making acts, violence or any other type of aggression are used for artistic purposes, and they did not commit those acts

If you need help. Please get help. You are loved, and your life is valued. Even if you don’t see it, you are loved.

The Monaco Grand Prix is in a few days and you will be slowly preparing for tonight’s dinner. Charles decided to organize a small evening for the pilots and their respective companions. It is in a magnificent hotel overlooking the sea that Charles booked the room and privatized the chef of the restaurant. The luxurious life of Monaco in its greatest fullness, you are always amazed by all the secrets that this small principality shelters.

You were third-wheeling your best friend Heidi to that party. She and Daniel invited you after running into you in the afternoon at the marina. Since you were little you know most of the pilots. So you are happy to have been invited to celebrate this new year of racing in Monaco with them. The evening was going well until the subject of the conversation crumbled into something darker.

“I gotta admit, I’m getting kind of confused.” Ends up saying, Checo rubbing his nose with his glass.

“Oh, my god, me too. What if someone says, “I am not sleeping with you tonight?” And then... an hour later, they’re like, “Eh, fine.” What’s that?” Ask Lando, completely confused.

“Unsurprising,” Pierre whispers under his breath, laughing. You laugh at with him, ignoring Lando's thunder.

“How many women have said, “Eh, fine”?” Questions Heidi sarcastically.

“Yeah, I got to make some calls.”

“Now I’m perplexed.” Says Max trying to make sense of everything he heard.

“I know. It’s confusing. I hate to admit it, but I feel sorry for men. This consent thing is tricky.” Kelly responded and gets up to pour herself more wine.

“No.” You exclaim annoyed by her comment. “Women always blame themselves, and then the man never has to take responsibility. During rape prevention week at the university, all the signs are aimed at women. “Girls, don’t dress provocatively. Girls, don’t walk alone.” How about, “Hey, guys, don’t rape.”" You look up at Pierre knowing perfectly it will trigger him.

“Oh, my god, why are we talking about that? I took a couple pictures as a joke, and Cece thought it was funny.” Pierre exclaims as he gets up from his chair to get himself another beer at the bar.

“Did she? Or did she feel like she had to laugh ‘cause she doesn’t know what else to do with your hand on her boob?” Everyone around the table falls silent and waits. You get up from your chair and walk you way to Pierre.

“Ok, sweetie, take it easy.” Adds Sebastian taking your arm and tries to calm the conversation.

“No. He thinks what he did is cute. You are basically a predator.” You accuse, pointing your finger at him.

“You’re basically a psycho.” Pierre replies, knowing full well it will trigger you.

“Good, call me crazy for defending a woman’s right not to be groped!”

“You’re mad ‘cause the internet told you to be. You don’t know my life or even leave this apartment!” Pierre screams as he approaches you.

“Because of guys like you!” You answer with the same intonation.

“What are you talking about?” Charles asks, taking your hand for you to sit down.

You and Charles are special. You’ve been like ass and shirt since childhood. You’ve known him since you were six. For as long as you can remember, Charles has always been one of your dearest childhood friends. You have shared so much together. No one has ever made you vibrate like he does. Usually his simple touch makes you calmer and reassuring. But you are no longer able to appreciate this contact that you cherish so much.

“You want to know?” You said, scoffing. “Okay. A couple of weeks ago, Heidi and I were coming home from the movies, and we were holding hands. And we noticed these guys staring at us, and then we changed the sidewalks , and they followed us.” You speak with tears in your eyes.

“What?” Sebastian says concerned in his voice. His turn your body to him.

“Yes. And they were going, “Come one, you guys, kiss. We really wanna see it. Just kiss.” They thought that was really funny, too.” You continue telling while drinking a sip of your glass.

“It was actually terrifying.” Ends up adding Heidi after Daniel stares at her intently.

“It was terrifying. And then we finally lost them in a crowd and ran home...” You finish in a huff trying to hold back your tears. Your hand hides your eyes and you try at best to find your calm.

Charles, in his divine goodness, hastens to extinguish you warmly. At first, his touch hurts you and you have only one desire to remove his hands from your dirty body. Yet you cling to him like a lifeline. Deep down, you know it's time. Time to tell what happened that night, a year ago. Nobody dares to speak at your revelation and everyone feels guilty for not knowing sooner.

“Umm... Last year after the Monaco Grand Prix. Lance Stroll raped me. He was my friend, and he raped me in my own bedroom. And then, he threatened me not to tell anyone... but. Why did he do this?” You ask breaking down in tears. “Sorry, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what... I feel.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sebastian asks tenderly, approaching you rubbing his hand on your back.

“I tried, but... nobody listened to me.” You respond looking at Lando through your tears. Your eyes pierce Lando’s being. He doesn’t know where to put himself and his cheeks become red. He implores you to keep your mouth shut, but the situation no longer belongs to you. You feel the body of Charles being redeemed against yours and you notice that he followed your gaze.

“You knew.” He accuses Lando turning his attention abruptly towards him.

“I... I.” He tries to defend himself. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh, you think she knew what to do either.” He yells, getting up from his chair and grabbing him by the collar.

“Charles, let him go!” Orders Carlos.

“You let her suffer silently when you knew what he did to her. I thought you were better than this. T’es qu’une grosse merde.” You’re a piece of shit

“Oh please, like you would have done something? We all know he’s untouchable and has done it before.” Admitted Lando, pushing Charles away.

“What?” Sebastian speaks up. This is the first time he has heard this from his former teammate. He never thought he would ever see Lance in this light.

“Nothing.”

“It’s nothing? He raped her, and now other girls too?” Charles advances again, preventing him from fleeing the situation.

“Don't play fouls, Charles. You were in his hotel room at the party in Abu Dhabi last year, and I quite remember your hands on some teenage girls, groping them.” He said suddenly, pushing Charles out of his way again.

“What?” You speak up, troubled by Lando's affirmation.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Charles turns to you, trying to explain himself. You get up from your chair and walk back as you see him approach.

“Don’t touch me.” You say, pushing him away. “Did you do it?”

“I... It’s not the same thing.” He justified himself.

“Yes. It actually is. Did you grope those teenage girls or worse raped them?” You ask scandalized. Charles, your best friend, your confidant, the one you most trust is capable of the same thing as the person who hurt you the most.

“Oui,” he admits in a small voice. “I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to? What the fuck, Charles. What's wrong with you all?” You yell, taking your stuff and leaving as fast as possible.

The thought of all this happening to so many more makes you sick. How could nobody speak up about this? You walk down the hotel hallway. You can hear footsteps and Charles's voice telling you to come back. When you get to the lobby, you ask for a taxi home. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you look at him as you push the door out.

You take your taxi and give him your address. All you want right now is a shower. A warm and reassuring shower. To pull away all those memories and thoughts. You want to scream to the world. You want to smash your entire apartment down. You want to stay in bed for the rest of your life. You want to jump off the roof. You want to cut yourself so that the pain stops. You want to be set free.

You arrive at the complex. Your dark thought runs in circles in your head. Like a robot, you open the door, press the elevator, and finally unlock your apartment. You let your essentials fall on the ground with your bag and coat. Like a machine, you take your shoes off and open the lights.

The sight of your home, which does not feel like home anymore. Since Lance pushes himself into you while you try to make him go away, this place hasn’t felt like home. You can’t even sleep in your own bed anymore. No matter how many times you clean the sheets, change the bed. This memory comes running back into your mind. Invade you like a parasite.

You go to the bathroom and open the valve to fill the bathtub. You watch the water. You can hear your phone blowing up with notifications and calls. “Why does this world have to be this cruel?” You think, taking your clothes off.

Your body envelops itself in the heat of the water, and you close your eyes. Your body slips in the bath. You head underwater. You hear focusing on your heart bit. You enjoy this moment of quietness and solitude.

That’s it. You feel alone since that night he took your joy, your life, yourself.

You can feel the water pressure you to gasp for air. Your head starts popping your blood. Your heart rises to find oxygen. You struggle. You have been struggling this long. You want to go, and you want to let go.

You let the water go in, and suddenly, all the scary parts disappear. The explosion in your head fades away, and you’re not scared anymore. You find it relatively peaceful. Very peaceful.

Strangely, you’re dreaming. Him with you. On a boat. Feeling the breeze in your hair. The warm sun on your skin. His light touches on your thigh. His breath on your neck. His lips are on your breast. You’re daydreaming. Are you? Is your mind trying to ease the pain in your heart? Is it even the day?

Then. You open your eyes. You try to scream, but your head is under the water. You feel weak but strong. Sick but healthy. Chaos but at peace. You can feel your body wiggling, but your mind is different. No one can hurt you now. Quietly, your eyelids become heavy again, and what a moment ago hurt you the most now makes you feel good.

The water fills your lungs, and you sink more and more into the darkness. Nobody seems to pull you up. The seconds pass, but you no longer find the courage to go out. The bathtub disappears, and you find yourself in the sea. In a warm and welcoming sea; The Mediterranean. An infinity of blue. An infinity of sweetness. The noises are only deaf sounds, and you feel your brain more and more calm. The sun’s rays pass through the water, and you move further and further away from it. Your eyelids become more and more stretched.

Then you see beautiful blue eyes through the water. No fair. You can’t reach them but can’t stop staring at those ocean-blue eyes. Suddenly, you feel scared. Scared to leave those ocean eyes. You’re afraid, and you’re drowning under the waves of words you haven’t said to them, to you.

You try to fight back this peaceful state, but darkness is an easier path than light. Suddenly the silence suffocates you, and you miss the sound surrounding you.

Then comes the darkness.

When you leave the apartment, Sebastian watches Charles running after you. He can’t believe what has happened. He doesn’t want to consider it. How could he? He sees and goes to the door, and Charles is defeated on the ground. He passes by without a look and walk his way to the lobby.

You have always been a fragile child. Even when you were a child. You were always this little fragile and precious porcelain doll. You’ve never been afraid of anything growing up. Sebastian always loved to see you grow up with him. Despite your age difference, he always considered you his little sister. The little one who needs to be protected from everything and at any cost. Knowing that you are suffering so much hurts him.

In the hallway, the walk seems long and endless, his thoughts wandering toward your shared memories. He remembers many summers spent in the countryside. At your grandparents' meadow, there was a vast field with a few horses grazing on the fresh grass. He remembers that beautiful-eyed little girl running in his direction.

You had dirt all over your clothes. Your hair was braided, and he still remembers the grass sticking in it. He remembers your laughter, which lit up the prairie thousands of miles away. Hearing you laugh has always been his favourite thing about you. Lost, it’s only when the doors block his way out that he remembers he has to go looking for you. He runs through the night towards your apartment.

Charles is devastated. Everything he tried to build with you has just broken in a moment. He feels lonely and ashamed. He wants you to know how much he loves you. How much you mean to him. How much you have become the center of his universe.

Before you, there was racing, and that was it. When you became something more his life change. It was as if you had lit the dormant fire in him. You have extinguished the flame since the death of his best companion, his father. You have given meaning to this quest. The stakes are not won but won for you.

He still remembers the first time he took you to his garage. You were with Sebastian. He was showing you around the Ferrari factory, showing you the different facilities, different parts. You were so captivated by his words, and your eyes were shining like stars in the sky.

He remembers the moment when your eyes landed on him. The smile you had, and the dress you wore and the clip in your hair. He counts you. Unable to say anything. Captivated by your beauty.

“Hi, Charlie.” You said in your beautiful voice.

He stuttered and blushed heavily. You laughed gently before putting your lips on each of his cheeks. He likes a kiss, and no, he likes your kisses.

A hand falls on his shoulder, and he sees Pierre. Tears in his eyes prevent him from distinguishing himself perfectly, but he recognizes his friend.

“Don’t worry. She’ll come back.” He says softly. Taking him by the shoulders to lift him up and bring him back to the room.

The others are still there. Confused and shaken, no one speaks. Silence reigns in the room, and no one knows what to say. Charles opens the patio door and leaves the fresh night air in the room. The city slowly began to calm down, and he heard the waves regularly hitting the harbour.

Daniel gets up and gets rid of the table. Putting this party away may make us forget the events that occurred. Heidi and Kelly help him while the others put orders in the room. No one dares to go to see Charles.

The hour passes quickly, and some decide to leave. They quickly greet the last remaining. Pierre observes his friend, who has not moved, and still looks at the sea.

It’s only when Charles' phone starts ringing that he looks away. He calmly enters the room and answers.

“Hello?”

You always liked the fields. You always loved hiding in the big wheat fields surrounding your grandparents' house when you were little. This stretch of yellow was as far as the eye could see. You liked feeling the stems between your fingers, the seeds melting to your touch, and the particular smell of wheat.

You remember a hot summer day. Lying on a tablecloth after a picnic, nature calms by this overwhelming heat, especially the calm of this yellow and green nature. You remember the farmer who held the farm. You spent days watching him working. Helping him through the mould. Watching him turn wheat powder into cereal. You remember this great man, always with a grain of wheat in his mouth that was constantly chewing.

You remember the hum that bees made at work. From wheat to wheat, pollen is harvested. You remember the nests in the hives that you created one summer. Your grandfather, with his jumpsuit, would go every morning and inspect the nests, and you loved watching him do it. You also loved to taste honey with each harvest. Honey is good. It’s sweet. It’s sweet. It’s wild.

You remember Sebastian. His blond hair, his smile, the sound of his kart engine. Many hours passed in his company at the track with his dad. You remember your big brother, following him and Sebastian all day long, like the annoying little sister you were. You remember falling from a tree after the boys thought it was a great idea to climb it. You see your brother jumping down the tree to get to you and hear Sebastian running back to the house to get help. You spent the night at the hospital. You broke your arms that summer, and you had a commotion. Your parents were furious and punished your brother for the rest of the vacation.

You remember your first winter in the mountains. Mornings skiing, and afternoons making snowmen, eating maple syrup, drinking hot chocolate, just playing in the snow. See your happy brother’s face after he managed to get the last pancake.

You remember Sebastian’s victories. To see him move up from category to category. You remember his encounter with Hanna. You love Hanna. She is so sweet and kind. You remember your great jealousy towards her from the height of your twelve years. She who steals your Sebastian. She who steals your second brother. Oh yes, you were jealous, but she knew how to win your heart, and after all, she stayed.

You remember the Ferrari years. Everyone was in red. You saw the world with red glasses. Red like love. Red like anger. Red as the colour. Red as blood. It’s kind of at this time, when adolescence really starts that you start to change. Physically, mentally, and spiritually, you were no longer the wise little girl your parents admired and your brother despised. No, you grew up making mistakes, a lot of mistakes, until you met him.

Him. The golden boy. The one destined to be great.

You remember his perfume, his smell, his laughter, his mimics, his way of speaking, his way of being and his way of simply being. He intimidated you so much; this guy was destined for something big. Whereas you, we never expected much from you besides being pretty, lovely, not disturbing, quiet, and reserved.

Quiet.

Reserved.

Pretty.

In those words, your brain falls into the dark side of your life. The darkened side of time. Painful and unhappy memories. The memories of him, the one who once was your best friend. He who once was your confidant. He who once saw fit to r*pe you.

To find you after the Grand Prix, in your apartment, in your house, in your home. To be a little too drunk, surely. To hold you firmly. To put his lips on yours. To hold your wrists. To put all his weight on your body. To force you into bed. To beg him to stop. To cry in silence. To feel it in you. To feel dirty. To feel unloved.

To feel alone, so lonely, too lonely.

To find yourself curled up in a ball in a corner. To wait until morning for him to leave. To want to end your life. To end your nights. To seek help. To be abandoned. To be alone. To be dirty. To be silent. To be reserved. To be pretty.

To be pretty.

To be.

Silent is all you ask for.

It’s been a long night. The hours have been staggering. The noises of monitors, nurses, doctors, and ambulances invade their ears. No one speaks, and no one dares speak. It is as if a white veil covers the weighing atmosphere and borrows all those present.

The wait is long, too long. They wait patiently for the outcome of this atrocious night, something that does not happen. Sebastian holds his head in his hands, tears have finished flowing, but his eyes are still red. He feels bad. He feels immense guilt. This mixture of shame, sadness, contempt and anger is eating him increasingly as the hours pass and pass before his eyes. He blames himself for not coming sooner. He blames himself for not holding you back. He blames himself for not seeing. He blames himself.

Full of life and ardour, this little girl was smothered under this icy water. Frozen in time. Only the repetitive sound of drops escaping from the pipe disrupted this freezing scene. She hides all her problems behind her smile. Never in his life has he thought of having this vision of you. This pure horror vision of an act yet so courageous. Because it takes courage to think about yourself before thinking about others. It takes courage to put yourself forward and not others. It takes courage to achieve what others have likely failed to achieve.

The roar of the machines stifled Charles. He closed his ears in the hope of silencing them. To see you with your tubes hanging around you, in you. On this hospital bed, this white bed, this room that feels the end. Eyes wet, Charles looks at your pale, serene face. The doctor’s words are dry and not encouraging. Your parents arrive a few hours later, a flight later. They cry. Your brother has tears in his eyes. Sebastian collapses in a corner. Hanna is there; a veil of sadness covers his eyes. Heidi cries in the arms of Daniel, who looks again in the eyes of Charles. Charles holds your hand, your hand. Your hands are cold, frozen by the consequences. Lando doesn’t dare to come in. He feels guilty because he refused to believe you, to reach out to you, see you, and see your distress. He preferred to become blind rather than awake. It haunts him.

Charles, sitting next to you, is watching people walk by. To say goodbye to you, goodbye, forever. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. You’re still breathing. Your heart is still beating. So why do you have to leave? Why did you choose to go?

“Why?” He mumbles one more time, his head against your ear. “Why are you not fighting?”

“Cha... we have to go.”

“No... I-I-I can’t. I can’t leave her.” His voice breaks in a sob.

“Charles,” Pierre says, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder. “Let her go.”

“No...” Charles pushes him away, gripping your hand tighter. “She’s going to survive. She’s going to live. She has to live. You have to live.” He prays, kissing your cold skin.

Pierre sight and get out of the room. His family, her family, his friends, and her friends are here waiting for him. The visiting hours are almost over. Everyone wants to go back to their house and sleep a bit. They haven’t slept all night. Charles hasn’t slept all night. Pascale enters the room quietly. Staring at his son.

“Charles. We need to let her rest. Will come back in the morning, d’accord mon bébé?” She says, taking him in her arm.

He acquires at her request despite himself. Unable to fight anymore, fatigue slowly eats him away, and he knows that he is of no help if he is exhausted. He leaves the room not without a last kiss, a last look, a last goodbye.

On the following day, Charles came. Staying for hours next to you. Stroking your hair, mumbling your name, praying for you to wake up. He can't take you out of his brain. He can't take you out of him. You're haunting him. We realize how important it is in our life when we lose someone we take for granted. Charles looks at you as a friend until he realizes he loves you. Is it too late? Were you supposed to be?

Sebastian came a few times, only a few minutes. He can't unseen what he saw. He plays and plays the night in his head over and over again. Wondering what he could have done differently.

The doctors are not really optimistic about your recovery. Your body is tired. Your mind is exhausted. They did all they could do. All we have to do is wait. Wait for you to come back. Wait for you to fight for your life. How could you fight if you're not even awake? It's painful.

Strangely enough, he came. The rapist. The abomination of your life. You came late at night when everyone left. He felt bad. "It's too late to feel bad," you think when you feel his hand and you. You wanted to cry, to scream, but nothing. He left shortly after. Looking at you one last time. Looking at what he did to you. You hear from Lando a few days later that he got arrested. Other girls spoke, and there were enough accusations to start a trial. Even more strange, it did nothing to you. Well, how could you feel? When he toked everything you got and smashed it in a million pieces?

Sometimes, you can feel the warmth of the afterlife tingling your skin. You feel it right near you, calling you. Calling you to answer the call. You want to feel this feeling of peace, this quietness. You don't know how to feel. You just want to float. You forgot how to be happy. How to be. Why fight if you may never find yourself again? What were you made for? You wonder to yourself.

Time flies. A couple of weeks passed. You made some improvements for the doctors to feel optimistic for you to wake up eventually. You're stabilized by all those machines. Your parent finally arrived a few days after you were admitted. You can feel your mother's tears on your cold hands and the soft kisses of your father on your forehead. You can smell the sunflower Heidi brought you every time she comes to see you. Sometimes you want to react. To show her you listen. But you can't. Or you don't want?

The feeling of loneliness passed. You can see now how much you're loved. How they love you. You love to hear Arthur talking about your favourite series. You love to hear Sebastian remembering childhood moments whenever he found the courage to come. You love to listen to your mom singing your favourite songs. You love to hear Daniel telling dad jokes, hoping you'll smile in your sleep. You love hearing Lando talking about his latest Quadrant adventures or Twitch lives. You love to listen to Charles saying how much he loves you. How much his life is plain without you. You can't imagine somebody else cared so much about you.

That makes you cry. You can't show them you can hear. You can't show them you love them too. You can't show them how grateful you are or will be. More time passed, and the more you could slowly feel you were losing yourself. All you need to do is happen your eyes, but for some reason, it seems an impossible task to do.

"This is impossible," Alices says in disbelief at the creature rising upon her.

"Only if you believe it is." The hatter whispers, scared of the outcome of all this adventure. But wasn't this all the point of this madness?

"Sometimes, I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

"That is an excellent practice." The hatters says. "However, just now, you might want to focus on the Jabberwocky."

"Six impossible things. Count them, Alice. One, there's a potion that can make you shrink. Two, and a cake that can make you grow. Three, animals can talk. Four, Alice, cats can disappear. Five, there's a place called Wonderland. Six, I can slay the Jabberwocky."

You feel yourself falling into the rabbit hole, and you have been in Wonderland all this time. That's it! You can do it. Six impossible things before breakfast.

"One, you will get a major in architecture."

"Two, you can drive an F1 car."

"Three, you can be happy again."

"Four, Y/n, there's a place for you in this universe."

"Six, I will fight for my life."

At this, though, he feels darkness rising upon you. Everything fades away slowly. You can hear the constant beep of the machines around you. You can feel Charles's hands against yours. You can smell the hospital room you're in. You can see the light shutters again you close your eyes.

Then... you breathe.

Feeling the grass on your feet. The autumn breeze cools down your spine. For the first time, you appreciate being alive. To fill your lungs with air, to hear the water crash against the rocks, to feel the sun warm up your skin, and to taste food again.

You feel a hand around your waist, and Charles brings you closer to him. He sticks you to his bare chest. He holds you firmly for fear that you will disappear again. It makes you smile to see him so loving, so gentle, and so attentive. You turn your gaze from the blue horizon to meet his emerald eyes. He smiles tenderly. His eyes sparkle with a thousand lights when you return his smile. You hold these eyes a few moments before you look wandering towards his lips.

If only it could be true.

If only you could be with him.

______________________________________________________________

Hi! Hope you enjoy this final version of the story. It took me sometimes to get back to writing but I'm getting there. I know some of you really like it and it's fill my heart with joy <3

Tag List : tyna-19 dessxoxsworld ynbutbetter alexander-hamilhoe honethatty12 janeholt3 mloyer karmabyfernando omgsuperstarg laura-naruto-fan1998

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #charles #charles leclerc sad #charles leclerc x you

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yeetmeoffjueyunkarst · 6 months

Note

Follow up to the one where reader gives Lynette a glass flower, where reader so.ehow finds out about Lynettes being a part of the Fatui, and their initial heartbreak over not being trusted to be told.

The way you got me giggling like crazy in public…. dude you really live up to your username help i’m bursting with ideas

Why?

part 2 to this, angst, hurt no comfort, I am out to make you two even more sad, Archon Quest spoilers ahead!

Things were decidedly alright for a while.

Of course, the both of you remained friends, but there was the hint of something more.

Hidden glances when the other wasn't looking. Lynette's greater acceptance of physical affection around you. Her proactiveness in talking to you more. You paying more attention to every little trait of hers, and making more time and effort to be around her.

It's like there was a shift in the energy between the both of you, so painfully obvious to those who were observant enough, given that Lynette knew she is Fatui. She couldn't, cannot afford to let down her guard, lest she misses out something.

Then, it happened.

It was a blur, really. You were there that fateful performance, when everything came crashing down, literally.

Before you knew it, you were caught up in having to give quite a few statements to the guards present, with the Traveller assisting in the investigation as well.

Both you and Lynette didn't have time to talk. But you could feel her worry for Lyney when he was accused for murder.

"Lynette?"

She turns around, immediately walking towards you, like a moth drawn to a flame.

It catches you by surprise when she embraces you, gripping the back of your shirt oh so tightly.

"Hold me, please."

The lights fade as the both of you hold each other, words left unspoken, the both of you always dancing around each other.

As someone involved in the case, you were seated in the audience's box, watching as the Traveler defends Lyney and Lynette's case.

It's a beautiful battle, really. As someone who lived long enough in Fontaine, you couldn't help but admire the fight of the court, though still more serious given it does affect both your friends.

Furina: "And if may I ask, what did you hear while you were inside your box?"

Lyney: "The roaring countdown of the crowd, of course. That's how I kept track of the time and build anticipation of the finale."

Furina: "And you didn't hear anything else at all? Nothing that might leave any impression of any kind?"

Lyney: "No, nothing."

But there was a 'thud' in the middle of it all.

For a moment, no sound could be heard from your own ears. All there was was the pounding of your heart.

Furina: "Tell me. Aren't you and Lynette actually from the House of the Hearth?"

At the Hydro Archon's words, your eyes lock onto Lynette, praying, hoping that it was falsehoods. But deep down, it is an Archon's words. How could it be wrong?

Your heart shatters when Lyney admits it to Iudex Neuvillette.

For the rest of the court hearing, you sit there, grappling with the revelation that the person you have feelings for is part of the Fatui.

The Fatui. Based on the Steambird's news, the Fatui were responsible for a lot of things, including the almost destruction of the entire Liyue City, the Vision Hunt Decree and the war between Narukami and Watasumi, and for the machinery of the corruption among the Sumeru Akademiya... needless to say, as one of many raised to trust in the Archons, the Fatui were essentially the bad guys to you.

Has Lynette killed? How much of her words and actions to me is real? Just what of her is real? Has she been watching me? For what reason? Has she done unspeakable things for the sake of her allegiance? Why is she there? What is she doing with the Fatui? How long has she been doing this?

Even as the court hearing ended and they were proved to be innocent, the damage was done. You notice Lyney and Lynette following after the Traveler.

No doubt to thank them, I suppose. After all, they're the reason why they're still free, despite the longstanding clash between both the Traveler and the Fatui as a whole.

Deciding that you don't want to talk to Lynette, you decide to head out, taking the exit on the opposite side where the Traveler, Lynette and Lyney were talking.

You hear bits of the conversation, but you elect to ignore it, since it's only words of gratitude that you're hearing so far.

You don't notice Lynette's pained eyes on you. Or how Lyney and the Traveler are aware she's watching you as you leave Opera Epiclese.

You don't hear the next parts of the conversation, about why the twins are even in the Fatui in the first place.

And you don't want to admit this to yourself, but.

What now? What are you supposed to do when you have feelings for someone who's in an organisation that has literally started wars and is responsible for so much destruction?

Clenching your fists, you walk out of the hall, heading straight home.

"Lynette?"

Lyney pokes his head into his sister's room. Being the top brass among the children of the House of the Hearth has given the 3 of them some perks, including separate rooms. That's also because he's slated to take over Father when the time comes, but he's not going to tell Lynette or Freminet yet.

She doesn't hear him, fiddling with the glass flower you gave her a while back. Thinking of you. Longing for you. Missing you. Wanting to clear everything up and just have you back.

Father once told her that 'You needn't fret, nor should you feel like you have to change your own habits. But you should know that genuine understanding can only be found, not sought. A true companion is someone who can read your signals.'

She had that in Lyney, her twin brother who effortlessly managed to do so, because they've grown up together. Freminet, who also managed to, but albeit with some effort but it pulled through because the 3 of them had always been working together.

You were different. The both of you came from so different backgrounds. While her and her twin were left to fend for themselves on the streets, you had the support and love of your own parents.

You weren't as cunning as her or Lyney, but you made it up with your own sincerity for the people you care about. She could feel it in the way you always tried to understand her, tried to know her better.

You made her feel like it was okay to be in a spotlight, even as her role as a magician's assistant. A Fatui operative who was meant to stay in the shadows.

If Lyney is her truth in this world, then you are the light of this world, giving people like her, who belong in the darkness a sweet taste of sunshine, one that she had enjoyed only in between her little interactions with her parents when they were alive and with Lyney and Freminet.

But for all her logical mindset, she didn't know how to breach the issue of her being a Fatuus to you, and it's a rare moment of insecurity for her.

Y/N probably hates me. And they may probably never want to see me again. What should I do? I'm not sure if I should ask Lyney for help, he tends to be... too bold. I don't want to imagine him suggesting me to give Y/N a bunch of flowers when he's already rambling to me quite a few times on how much he likes the Traveller from earlier....

"Lynette." Lyney sighs as Lynette continues to absent-mindedly stroke the glass flower, aware that she's probably thinking about you and shaking his head at how dense his sister could be to her own thoughts and feelings when she's so observant in the first place.

Whatever Lyney wants to talk to Lynette about, it's definitely going to be a long night for them , considering the even longer day they had after the whole court case and having a stern talking to from their 'Father' for their identity exposed.

Oh god I'm finally done after procrastinating uwu requests are always open!!!!! ASK AWAY!!!!!!!

#j.writes #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin lynette #genshin lyney #genshin neuvillette #genshin furina #genshin focalors #genshin freminet #lynette x reader

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ghoststyles · 10 months

Text

Fairway to Heaven - Part 6

WC: 8.8K

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

_________________________________________________________________

Instead of hurt, betrayal or disgust, Briar feels heartbroken. Heartbroken Harry had to endure that. She moves closer, embracing him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he violently cries into her shoulder. She rubs circles on his back, letting him get out his upset and frustration.

“You didn’t deserve that. At all,” Briar says softly. Harry nods, just thankful she’s not upset at him. It took him years of therapy to be able to openly speak about his situation.

“Do you know his name?”

“Oliver,” Harry rasps.

“That’s beautiful. I bet he looks so much like you. I bet he has your kind eyes. Your charm. Your ability to make anyone feel special. I bet he’s clumsy like you. And I bet he’d like to meet you, too,” Briar says slowly.

Harry cries harder, the sobs wracking his body.

They sit there for over an hour before Harry finally calms down. He musters up the courage to look at her. His eyes are so puffy and red, and snot is dripping from his nose.

“I understand if you’re upset with me, and if you never want to see me again,” he sighs in defeat.

“Harry, look at me,” Briar grabs his face and runs her thumb along his cheek. “I’m absolutely not mad. I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. I want to help you deal with this, whatever way you need to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I think I want to sleep for a while.”

“Of course, let’s go up.”

“Harry, baby. Wake up,” Briar whispers, gently waking Harry from his sleep. It’s well past 11AM. She called Niall to let him know Harry isn’t feeling well.

Harry stirs, the memories of last night flooding his mind. He’s not even sure if he slept. Briar runs her finger nails along his back, gently soothing him.

“I called us both out of work today, so we’re going to spend it how you want to.”

Harry exhales. He can’t even think of the last time he took a day off. Or the last time he had a panic attack. The two probably coincide.

When Camille left him, he buried himself in work. He quickly rose to the top as an associate, eventually becoming a manager. Now that his predecessors are retiring, Harry sometimes works from 6AM until 8PM. Even on Christmas Day.

He takes some labored deep breaths.

“Can we go get breakfast?”

Briar scrunches her eyebrows, not expecting his answer.

“Of course. Take your time getting dressed.”

Briar leaves the room, already having been up and dressed for hours. She tossed and turned wondering how anyone could treat him that way. Harry loves so strongly and so deeply. She already knows he’d be an incredible father, based on his love for Gus. But, she didn’t know him in his 20’s and 30’s. Maybe he wasn’t as mature as he his now.

Her heart broke again watching him sleep. He looked sad, even when unconscious.

Harry eventually comes downstairs, slowly and solemnly. He pets Gus, reveling in his fluff. He is truly their emotional support dog.

“C-can we go to this place to get a full English? You’ve had it before, right?”

“Yes, when I went to London in high school. Will you eat my beans?”

Harry laughs softly, “Yes, I’ll eat your beans.”

She guides him out to her car, knowing he’s probably not in a state to drive. She’s too nervous to drive his nice car. It’s a beautiful day, so she took the top of her jeep off. She can’t wait to see his hair flying in the wind.

They pull up to his requested breakfast spot. The parking lot is a little deserted. She is relieved, because if he needs to cry a little he can do so without judgement.

The waitress greets them with a chipper tone, but quickly adjusts based on their sad demeanor. Briar orders them both a coffee and full English breakfasts.

They sit in silence for a while.

“I know I don’t know her, but, should you call your mom? Is this something you’d talk to her about?”

“I did in the beginning; my sister, too. But then it just became a cycle of discussing the same thing over and over. So I just stopped bringing it up.”

Briar nods, knowing the feeling. After her dad died, she was enrolled in therapy. As a 6 year old, she didn’t have much else to talk about.

“I saw a therapist for a while. I was a little unwilling to talk about any of my other issues, so after a while they just gave me a prescription and sent me on my way. I felt like I got kicked out.”

Briar grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it. “That’s the tough part of it; they give you the tools and you’re supposed to just figure out how to use them. There were so many times I just wished my therapist had told me what to do and what to say.”

Harry hums. The food arrives a few minutes later. He gently breaks his egg yolk, “I’d really like you to meet my mum and sister.”

She smiles, “Aw, yes, I’d love to. It didn’t even cross my mind since you met mine so early on. Well, not my mom, I guess.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks, happy to move onto a different topic.

Briar blows air out of her mouth as she tries to recall the last time she saw her mother.

“Christmas, I guess.”

“Can I meet her? Or do you just want to wait until it happens organically?”

“No, no. I should call her soon, anyway. I’ll try and set something up,” Briar says, pushing her food around. She supposes they're both facing their demons head-on today. “Do you mind if my brothers come? They usually need to be coerced into seeing her.”

“Of course not. Whatever is most comfortable for you guys.”

They eat in silence, only speaking up when the waitress returns to the table every so often.

“I send him birthday cards,” Harry says, staring at his hands.

Briar lifts her head, giving him a look to continue his thought.

“Every year around Christmas time. I’m not even really sure when his birthday is. I’ve never written a note, or anything. I just sign my name ‘Harry’. For all I know, she’s never even told him about me. Or even given him the cards.”

Briar’s sadness returns, evident in her facial expression.

“H-have you tried contacting your mutual friend? The one that introduced you?”

“I did, years ago. Everything was kind of fresh at that point, and I definitely think he took sides. I’m pretty sure they’re together now. His parents own an art gallery and are involved in high-society over there,” he coughs. “I just look like a schmuck in comparison. The craziest part of it all, I don’t know what I did to deserve no contact. I’m scared I’ll die never knowing.”

Briar closes her eyes, willing herself not to cry, “Did you ever fly to France to try and find her? Or her family?”

“I did. Once. I’d say about 6 months later. I drank whiskey the entire flight to Paris. I didn’t even have any luggage with me. I just marched off the plane and went to where I last knew she lived. I should’ve known her keeping her Paris apartment meant something.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Briar says softly.

“I knocked on the door. She opened it so quickly. I think she was expecting someone else. Her jaw dropped, and she tried to close the door on me. I was able to get inside, but she started throwing bottles at me. Then she threatened to get a restraining order against me. She was really showing at that point, so I didn’t want it the police to get involved.”

Briar is horrified the more he tells her.

“I went home to my mum’s for a while. Then flew back to the US and just went back to work. I can’t say I’ve done anything substantial since then.”

“Oh, stop. You renovated a gorgeous house. You started going back to Wynnewood. You’ve become your own boss,” Briar rattles off his accomplishments.

“I just thought I’d be married by now,” Harry chokes up a bit. She moves to his side of the table, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I know this is ironic coming from a 23 year old; but, there’s no timeline on life, baby. You faced adversity and are moving on from it. That takes a lot of courage.”

Harry chuckles, wiping away a stray tear. Briar is so emotionally intelligent for a 23 year old.

They leave the café, opting to go back to Harry’s house. They grab books from his shelf and read them outside on his comfy lounge chair under the cabana, hoping the sunshine heals them both. Harry eventually dozes off, finally achieving deep sleep after a rocky 24 hours.

Briar massages his head, twirling his curls in between her fingers. As much as she wants to comfort him, she can’t help her tendencies to meddle.

She visits Niall’s Instagram, immediately checking his following list. She scrolls, closely examining every profile to find even a tiny breadcrumb that could lead her to Camille. Harry never said her last name, so she’ll have to pull out the big guns of internet stalking.

Nothing stands out tremendously; He doesn’t follow many people. Just a few OnlyFans models, golf companies and Barstool Sports. She spots a familiar name, Lydia…Where does she know that name from?

Briar’s thumb gives one last ditch effort scroll, when she lands on an account: @Fingermonkey

She clicks on it, and her heart immediately stops. Camille. The woman who made her boyfriend lose sight of who he was. The account is public, so she cautiously proceeds.

She’s a striking woman; she can see why Harry fell for her. She exudes beauty and class. It’s almost palpable.

Briar shudders, unsure if she should continue. She’s on her page for selfish reasons; to see Harry’s son. Her curiosity gets the best of her. She scrolls some more, before stopping at a photo of a tiny hand. Briar bites her lip, staring back down at Harry.

“No going back,” she whispers to herself.

After another few scrolls, she finds what she’s looking for. It’s from around 5 years ago. Camille is holding a tiny boy with dark brown curls and green eyes, bright as day. They’re on the swings, bright smiles adorning their faces.

Briar feels like she’s been sucker punched in the stomach. He’s a beautiful little boy. A boy Harry never even got the chance to love and help raise. She takes several deep breaths and scrolls back even further to 8 years prior.

Another blow. The engagement photos.

Briar winces, zooming in. They seem to be taken in California, just as the sun is setting. Camille is holding Harry’s face as she kisses him, the ring being the main focal point. She reads the caption:

J'ai trouvé mon éternité.

I found my forever.

She clicks off Camille’s page, rolling her eyes. She clears the search history, knowing she’s been caught stalking in the past.

Briar has so many questions.

Does she want Harry to find her? Why is Niall still following her?

Briar is physically at Wynnewood, but mentally elsewhere. After her stalking session, Harry woke up feeling better, so they decided she should go home. As much as he loves her company, he always needs alone time to process things. She was happy to oblige, needing her own time to breathe.

Briar is taking inventory after her shift when she spots Niall on the practice green. A lump forms in her throat, but she knows she needs to confide in him. He smiles, waving her over.

“Hey, Briar. I heard about the other day. I was up in the clubhouse already when everything went down. How’re you doing?” He asks, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Everything was taken care of, so I just needed some time to shake it off.”

He nods, fiddling with his putter. Niall looks around, not really sure what else to say.

“Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?”

His eyes go wide, clearing his throat, “Listen, if it’s about Lydia and I…”

Finally, it clicks. Lydia from the party. Lydia who told her she’s also dating someone from the club. Briar gasps, “I, uh, what?”

“Fuck.”

Briar crosses her arms in front of herself, “Um, I was just going to tell you that Harry told me about Camille, and about the baby.”

“Fuuuuck,” Niall scratches the back of his head. “Can you ignore what I said before?”

Briar laughs, “For now. We can talk about that later. I just wanted to see if you had other insight. It was obviously a very emotionally charged conversation.”

“Yeah. Are you off now? Do you want to go inside for a drink?”

She nods and waits for him to clean up his stuff. They walk back to the clubhouse in silence, so Briar grabs a table outside while Niall changes in the locker room. The club is empty enough, so she’s not worried about members seeing them together.

He sits down, sighing, “I-I don’t really know how to proceed. Do you just want to tell me what he’s told you?”

“Sure,” she says quietly. Briar begins filling him in about their dinner at Ashmont and Jonathan revealing more than Harry was willing to share. Her heart races as she shares more details.

“That’s tough, darling. I know he was going to tell you eventually. The situation absolutely wrecked him. It took years to feel like I had my friend back.”

She nods, biting her lip, staring down at her shoes. Harry bought her a pair of lavender and white New Balances; her initials stitched in the tongue.

“You’re a very rational person, even at your age,” he smiles, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “So, I know you’ll both work through it. But, what are your feelings?”

Briar sucks in a breath. “I’m not angry, and I want to support him, of course. But, I can’t help but have this sinking feeling in my stomach. I did some Instagram stalking.”

“You found Camille on there?”

“Yeah, through your account,” she waits for Niall to look back up at her.

He meets her eyes, “I keep a distance. I don’t speak to her or our mutual friends from study abroad. But I like to keep tabs. He’s my mate and I want to protect him.”

Briar nods, picking the skin at her cuticles.

“He’s a cute kid, isn’t he?” Niall smiles.

“Yeah, he is. Harry didn’t deserve that. At all,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Should I meddle? Or just stay out of it?”

“I would hate to see this kid get any older without meeting his father. And, if you think you’ll be,” he trails off, smiling to himself. “Sticking around for a while, I think you have the influence on him to face it head on.”

“I hope I’ll be sticking around for a while,” she smiles.

Briar feels slightly better after talking to Niall. She has to remember to ask Harry if he knew about Lydia.

Briar was in need of some cathartic release. If Harry was willing to face this obstacle, she’s willing to face hers. She sits in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and scrolls her list of contacts before landing on Catherine Barlowe.

She dials, going through several cycles before finally being answered on the final ring.

“Hi, Bri. How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m so good, honey. I’m so happy to hear from you. Dean and I are actually getting ready to move in a few weeks.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” Briar scrunches her eyebrows. That means her mom is selling the house she bought with her dad. The house she lived her first 9 years in before her mother’s addiction led to the 5 of them being placed with her aunt and uncle.

“I thought your brother may have told you. We’re going to California, honey.”

“Who? I thought the last time we all saw you was at Christmas time? And why California?”

“Jasper. He comes to see me. A lot more recently. The other boys only contact me when you do. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from Welles on his own,” Catherine sighs. “Dean is from California. He has young daughters, so we’re moving there to be closer to them. You remember? I told you about them.”

Tears begin welling in Briar’s eyes. Her mother, now 4 years sober and remarried gets to go play house with Dean’s young children. Instead of tending to her own.

“Yeah, I remember. There’s three of them, right? But they weren’t at the wedding,” Briar says quietly, remembering the rushed ceremony that took place the week after they finished their program together. Welles was furious, Jasper and Callum didn’t say a word, and Cormac cried the entire time. Patrick couldn’t bear to go. Meredith went in support of the siblings.

“Yes, he didn’t have custody rights at the time. But, that’s all settled now. We’re so happy, Bri.”

“I’m glad, Mom. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out to lunch soon. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” she rasps out.

“That sounds great, honey. Just text me the details. Talk soon.”

“Bye,” Briar chokes, throwing her phone into the passenger seat. She takes a few deep breaths to regulate her breathing. The tears continue to fall as she pulls out of the parking lot of Wynnewood.

Her phone begins to buzz, seeing Harry’s contact photo pop up.

“Hi,” she says solemnly before placing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Hi, Birdie. Are you okay?” He asks, sensing her tone.

“Yeah, yep, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I figured you’re leaving Wynnewood. Was gonna see if you want to grab Gus and come over. I can make us dinner.”

“Um, I’m kind of tired. Think I’m just gonna go home, if that’s alright.”

“No, yeah, of course, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Bye.”

She hangs up, not even bothering to say bye. Briar knows she shouldn’t take it out on Harry, but she’s struggling to hold herself together. She hears a crack of thunder before feeling thick rain drops hit her face.

“Fuck!”

Briar never put her Wrangler’s roof back on the other day. The droplets get more intense as she nears her apartment. Pulling into her spot, she frantically runs to her storage area to grab her roof parts.

It’s down pouring now, but she charges forward with her parts, lining them against the car. Her biceps are burning trying to lift the piece on top of the car. Tears are starting to roll down her face, her hair beginning to stick to her neck.

Briar squeezes her eyes closed, defeated as she feels two arms wrap around her. She whips her head around, startled by her boyfriend.

“What’s going on, love? Let me help,” Harry says, pulling her down from the step of her Jeep. She steps to the side under her apartment’s overhang, watching him effortlessly put the roof of her Jeep back together. He’s absolutely soaked, his gray sweatpants now a charcoal color. She watches the way his back muscles move under his white t-shirt.

He fastens the parts from the inside of the car before grabbing her backpack in one hand, and her hand in the other. He guides her to her apartment while fumbling with her keys. Gus greets them at the door, unsure who to go to first.

Harry sits Briar down on her ottoman before grabbing the fuzzy blanket from her sofa.

“What’s going on? I’m a little scared,” Harry says, his eyes full of concern.

She takes a shaky breath before sobs take over her whole body. She folds in on herself, burrowing into the blanket.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she wails. Harry is stunned, unsure what she’s apologizing for.

“I should be supporting you and here I am getting so overwhelmed and then trying to deal with my own bullshit,” Briar cries. He places his hand gently on her back.

“Baby, I’m lost. Did something happen today?”

“I called my mom. She’s moving to California to raise her new husband’s kids,” Briar cries, snot pouring from her nose. “I should’ve fucking known. I don’t even know why I called.”

Harry can’t help but feel a little guilty. He mentioned it at their breakfast to get himself out of the hot seat. She took his bait.

“And because I can’t stop meddling, I looked up Camille online,” she confesses. “I even talked to Niall about it all.”

Harry freezes. He figured she would confide in Niall. But he didn’t think she’d look Camille up. He’s too afraid to ask what she found.

Harry guides her to sit up. He grabs her cheeks with one hand and makes her face him, “Hey. Hey. I need you to breathe, Briar.”

Briar cries harder at his use of her name. She can feel herself start to hyperventilate. He wraps himself around her tight. He holds her until she stops shaking. Gus has brought them 5 of his toys to try and lighten the mood.

“Gus, go to your bed,” Harry commands, voice deep. Briar flinches.

She lifts her head, taking in a deep breath.

“I hurt my own feelings today. I went looking for information I shouldn’t’ve,” she admits quietly.

“I think we all do that sometimes. Which part do you want to talk about first?”

Briar loves how diplomatic Harry is. Even when they have their spats, he always makes her feel like an equal partner. She also loves when he completely dominates her in the bed right after.

“W-we can talk about my mom,” she says, assuming that’s the easier of the two. “Her husband has 3 young daughters. So, now my mom gets a do-over. Poof. Our family is just out of the picture.”

Harry sighs. His father did something similar after his parents divorced. It stung for years, and took time to mend. Now they’re very close.

“That’s awful, Birdie. I’m so sorry. Are you going to see her before she leaves?”

She nods, wiping her nose on his chest, “Yeah, told her about you. Apparently my brother has been visiting her in secret. I’m so angry.”

He smiles lightly, “I’m happy to come along. Or not. Whichever makes you more comfortable. Don’t hold it against him. You all have to deal with things differently.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course, baby. Now, do you want to tell me about the other situation?”

“Only if you want to. I crossed a line,” she starts to cry again.

She wraps her hand within his, squeezing tightly. Comfortable silence is usually never an issue for them, but the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Well, social media is public information, baby. I could’ve done it years ago, but never did.”

“I saw him,” Briar blurts out. It was now or never.

Harry closes his eyes, feeling nauseous. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gorgeous, Harry. Really,” she sniffles. “You shouldn’t give up. She’s wrong for what she did. And I want to help you fight for this.”

He can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. His tough girl is ready to sit in the trenches with him. To fight the biggest demon holding him back from his happiness.

“I wrote a letter years ago,” Harry starts. “Let’s send it.”

Briar gasps, sitting up to face him, “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me.”

“I’m not. I’m not sure if this is too soon, but I already know I want to keep you around for a long, long time. This will help me get over my last hurdle.”

Briar cradles his face, kissing him gently.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

They huddle together.

Briar starts to snicker, “Did you have any idea that Niall and Lydia, the server from the club, are dating?”

Harry’s head shoots up, “Huh?”

“Okay, good. I would’ve been pissed if you hid that from me."

“How’d you find out?”

Briar laughs, “I said, ‘Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?’ And he confessed immediately.”

Harry throws his head back laughing.

Harry is in his study, silently reading his letter from years ago. His tears are falling onto the paper, dotting and blurring the ink. He was 32 when he wrote this. It sounds old, but he was a kid. It was hard to keep him at home. He had access to disposable income, so he used it to its fullest.

Camille lived a simple life, finding pleasure in gardening, reading and going to cafés. Her job always came first, which kept her busy traveling around the world. Harry was restless; always chasing the next big thing, and partying until his body physically shut down.

It didn’t help that he was a touchy person. Even though Camille had his whole heart, he shamelessly flirted with other women. He let them hang on him at bars, on yachts, and anywhere he could get attention. People in their circle talk; leaving Harry in the hot seat more than once.

He’d be naïve to blame it on Camille’s attachment style. She was generally cold, not showing him much affection. But, nonetheless he pursued her, absolutely enamored by her beauty and grace.

He was dumb enough to suggest an open relationship one time; about 6 years into the relationship. His needs in bed became too much for Camille. She didn’t understand his need to get off and dominate her. He slept at a hotel every night that week. She gave him an out, but he couldn’t take it.

When Camille left, he started hooking up with women more regularly. His heart hurt so bad, but he was finally getting his physical needs met. None of them lasted, until Briar.

Over the course of 8 years, his heart slowly healed. It’s not ideal that Briar is so much younger, and an employee of his country club. There’s a strange power dynamic there. He loved how flustered she got when he looked at her; she still does sometimes, but he can feel the difference.

They bring encourage each other’s confidence. They drive each other to be a better version of themselves. They feed each other’s deepest desires; scratching every itch that had been culminating over several years.

Harry begins rewriting the letter; changing the tone from blinding rage, to one of neutrality. He wishes her well. He hopes she’s healed.

From what? He’s not sure. He hopes she understands his point of view, and will consider letting Harry meet his child. He’d do anything at this point.

He seals up the letter, addressing it to Camille. Not even sure she still lives at this address, he walks it out to his mailbox anyway, lifting the red flag to signal the post man.

He feels weight lift from his chest that had been there since the day he met Camille.

Briar and Harry are sitting at a nice restaurant on the water. She sips gingerly at her mojito while they wait for her mother to arrive. Briar extended the invite to her brothers, but received radio silence from them all.

She’s anxiously bouncing her leg, to which Harry firmly grasps her thigh as he locks his jaw. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. After the emotional turmoil they’ve experienced over the last few weeks, their sex life has toned down immensely. She misses his hand around her neck and his dirty whispers.

“Relax. I’m right here,” Harry whispers in her ear lowly.

Briar gasps when three of her brothers appear from the restaurant’s entryway. Jasper must’ve picked up Callum and Cormac from Patrick’s.

Briar stands to hug her older brothers, while Harry pulls Cormac in for a hug.

“Where’s Welles?”

“Not sure. I haven’t heard from him,” Callum says simply.

She rolls her eyes. He’s 28, but he is the most immature out of all of them.

They sit, easing into a conversation with Harry. She’s grateful she can entertain them while she’s somewhere else in her head. He reaches over to lock pinkies.

Her mother walks in, looking stunning. That’s one thing that Briar has always been jealous of. It’s why her addiction flew under the radar for so long. She was always put together and exuding happiness. But in secret, she was struggling.

Her strawberry blonde hair is longer than when she saw her last, loose waves falling over her shoulders. She’s in a floor length floral gown, a sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill of the restaurant.

She spots them after speaking with the hostess, her smile lighting up the room.

“Hi, my babies!”

Jasper stands to greet her, while her other brothers hold in a groan. She walks around the circular table to press a kiss to Briar’s head, before turning her attention to Harry.

“And who’s this? Don’t think I popped him out,” she laughs, waiting for Harry to stand up.

“Mom, seriously?” Briar grimaces.

“Hi, I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry says smiling, pulling out the chair for her.

“Pleasure is all mine, Harry. I’m Catherine. Isn’t my daughter incredible?”

Harry smiles, nodding. He can sense Briar’s discomfort. He assumes this praise is just for show.

Her mother brings up every topic under the sun, effectively avoiding topics regarding Briar’s father, the move, and her new husband.

They eat, letting Cormac talk about school, Callum talk about grad school and his new girlfriend, and Jasper about his new job. Briar realizes she’s done a shit job at talking to her brothers lately. She doesn’t know any of this.

“Where’s Wellie, Briar? Didn’t you invite him?”

“I did. Didn’t hear from him.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to follow up with him,” Catherine snipes. “It’s not everyday I get to see all five of you.”

“Really? How about you? When was the last time you talked to him?” Briar crosses her arms at her mother.

“It doesn’t matter. This is family time,” Catherine raises her eyebrows, waiting for Briar to snap.

“You know all about that, don’t you mom? Just counting down the minutes until you can go play house with Dean’s kids in California.”

Callum and Cormac look between the two women, stunned. Jasper’s eyes widen.

“California?” Callum questions. “Mom, what is she talking about?”

Catherine looks around, “I thought Jasper would’ve filled you all in. I’m moving to California with Dean to be closer to his kids. They’re younger.”

Jasper looks down, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. Callum shakes his head, throwing his napkin on the table before storming off. Cormac starts to cry, to which Harry puts a hand on his back.

“Mom, how can you leave?” Cormac asks, his lip quivering.

“Baby, you’re all adults. You don’t need me anymore.”

“I’m only 17, Mom,” Cormac chokes.

Briar has tears streaking down her face. Briar hasn’t needed her mother since she was 12 years old, hoping and praying for her to come back. Cormac barely knew her; only fantasizing what their relationship could’ve been.

Harry pays the bill before suggesting Catherine leaves. She nods, standing to grab her purse. She silently looks each of her children in the eye before walking out of the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, Bri. I thought she changed,” Jasper says solemnly.

“It’s okay. You deserve to handle your relationship with her however you want.”

Harry and Briar walk out hand in hand after spending 20 minutes consoling her brothers.

They climb into Harry’s car, silently staring ahead. Harry grabs her hand again.

“That was rough, pup. I’m sorry,” Harry says softly.

“Can we just go home? I miss you, Daddy.”

Harry clears his throat as his cock twitches.

“You have me, Birdie. Let’s go home.”

“Be rough with me,” Briar pleads from the bed. “I want it so bad.”

Harry chuckles as he pulls his belt from the loops on his pants. She’s completely bare, her wrists fastened to each corner of the bed. He opts to leave her feet out of the restraints, hoping he can toss her around a bit.

“Daddy’s been taking it easy on his Birdie for the last couple weeks,” Harry says, trailing his knuckle along her rib cage. She keens, shivering from the light touch. “But don’t think I forgot about your stunt at Ashmont.”

Briar freezes, remembering their escapades. She taunted him, removing her panties in the stall, waiting for him to come after her. It’s a shame the night turned into a disaster soon after. She whines, not sure what else to do.

“Hm? Remember that, Birdie? Words,” he stares straight into her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. I was naughty,” she bites her lip.

He doesn’t like that. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into her mouth, choking her a little. “Leave that lip alone. I bite that.”

She purrs around his digits, goosebumps rising on her skin. He removes them from her mouth before sticking them at her core. He barely grazes her folds, seeing how she’ll react. She jerks around, slightly moving her pelvis to meet his hand.

“Ah, ah. No. You’ll be taken care of how I decide.”

She nods, swallowing thickly. She’s eating up everything he throws at her.

“Think I’m gonna take my time tonight,” Harry let’s out an exaggerated sigh. Briar whines, pushing her face into her shoulder. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

Harry pushes Briar’s legs in the air, holding her ankles together, so the lips of her vagina are peaking out between her thighs. He growls at the sight.

“This little pussy is so used to getting what she wants. What does she want tonight, Birdie?”

“Your mouth, Daddy! Please!” Briar balls her fists, wiggling slightly.

Harry spits, watching the liquid drip down her thighs and cunt, “Nah, I’m good.”

Briar’s jaw locks in frustration. She watches as he walks to his closet grabbing her plug and vibrator. He generously applies lube to the plug, gently circling her ass. Briar closes her eyes, laying her head back.

He gently pushes the plug in past the tight muscle, moving it in and out a little.

“Oh my godddd,” Briar exhales. Her chest is rising and dropping fast.

“I think tonight’s the night, baby.”

Briar whines, half out of horniness and the other out of nervousness. He flicks the vibrator on, pressing it firmly on her clit. She throws her head to the side.

“Look at me. Don’t look over there,” Harry threatens, increasing the speed.

She wills her eyes open, staring into his, her mouth opening slightly. The tension is building in her pelvis. She’s sure to come once he starts circling the vibrator on her clit; his signature move. Within seconds of him doing that, she’s crumbling.

Harry shuts off the vibrator and adjusts her leg position so her legs are open wide, one resting on his shoulder.

“Wanna see your pretty face when I fuck your ass,” He says, peppering kisses on her face and neck.

“Please,” Briar whispers.

Harry reaches between them and pulls the plug out and tosses it on the floor. He’ll clean it later. He extends his hand to rest in front of her face.

“Spit.”

She spits on his fingertips, a line of spit connecting them to her lips. He lowers his hand to lightly touch her hole before inserting his middle finger. Briar groans, pulling on her restraints. He quickly inserts another, rocking them in and out of her gently.

Harry’s cock is neglected, standing tall and proud, nearly touching the tip to his torso. Briar begins to panic, unsure if his girth will fit in there.

“Relax, baby. I got you. Do you remember your word?” He says, petting her cheek.

“Bogey,” she says softly.

“Good girl,” he kisses her again. Harry has never withheld kisses, even in her worst punishments. “One more and then we’ll go for it, okay?”

“Mhm,” she nods, a single tear escaping her eye. She trusts her boyfriend with her entire being, but her heart rate is skyrocketing.

The third digit enters her, eliciting a whine. Harry flexes his fingers, giving her a delicious stretch. A thick layer of sweat has formed behind her knees and on her forehead.

Harry kisses her forehead, licking the saltiness from his lips, “All good, Birdie. Doing so well for me.”

After a few more minutes of stretching her out, Harry pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to be eye level with her ass. He licks a long stripe over the now open hole. Briar shivers, pulling on the restraints.

Harry rises from his spot on the bed to pull his underwear all the way off, his cock bobbing as he moves. He grips his length firmly, giving himself a few generous pumps. He kneels over her, undoing her right hand’s restraint. She looks at him curiously, but understands when he entwines their hands.

He uses his right hand to line himself up at her delicate center. Briar sucks in a breath in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head of his dick in, groaning as he moves. His pace is painstaking, taking in every facial expression from the angel below him.

“Such a good girl. Letting Daddy be the only one to fuck this little hole,” he pants, nostrils flaring. His forehead is starting to drip with sweat.

“Only you,” she whines as he pushes in little by little.

“Let me know if you need me to stop and take a break, lovie.”

She furiously shakes her head, still holding in a breath. Harry is finally working his way up to full thrusts.

“Breathe with me,” Harry pleads. “1,2,3, exhale.”

Briar feels high. That breath sent her senses all the way to her pussy.

“Daddy,” Briar breathes heavily.

“What do you need, baby?”

“Fingers. I-In my pussy,” she cries. “Please.”

“Okay, baby. I know y’empty in there,” he smiles down at her lovingly as he untangles their fingers so he can stick them inside. “So wet f’me.”

The sensations are too much once he starts petting her g-spot with his fingers.

“Coming, Daddy,” she babbles.

“Go ahead, Birdie. So fucking proud of you.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, letting out a cry of relief as she hits her wall.

Harry chuckles at her babbling. She is fucked out to high heaven. He wants one more out of her before he comes. He alternates thrusting into her ass and fingering her pussy. He releases her other hand from the restraint. She’s too distracted, so her hand remains in the same spot.

“Rub your little clit, baby. One more f’me.”

“Ugggghnnnn,” Briar whines, drool coming out of her mouth. She circles her clit three more times before she’s clenching hard on his fingers and cock.

The squeeze of her ass pushes Harry into his own orgasm, a ringing forming in his ear. He gives two last lazy thrusts, emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and hangs his head low before slowly pulling out.

Briar squawks, so he shushes her gently. Harry could come again at the sight in front of him. His come is leaking out of her ass hole, dripping onto the sheets below. He picks some up with his finger, smearing it on her pussy. She mewls, her head lolling to the side.

“So fucking good for me. Gorgeous, baby.”

Harry takes a mental image before hustling to the bathroom. He starts the bath, making sure to throw some epsom salt and lavender oil in there. He wets a towel with warm water for Briar, and throws two towels into his towel warmer.

He reenters the bedroom to find his girl curled up, her back to him. He runs his knuckles down her protruding spine. Harry gently dabs the towel along her labias and ass to clean up.

“Birdie, I ran us a bath. Gonna lift you,” Harry coos. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at him with moony eyes.

Harry lifts her from her armpits and knees, and swiftly carries her to the tub. Her eyes are shut, but she rests her head on his chest. He’s become a pro at maneuvering themselves into the tub.

Harry positions Briar at the front of the tub, before finding his seat at the back. He leans forward to pull her body to his chest. Harry closes his eyes and rolls his neck along the edge of the porcelain tub, listening to their uneven breaths.

He plays with Briar’s hair; twirling the long pieces between his fingers. She hasn’t said a word, but he knows she’s elsewhere right now. He moves his fingertips to her scalp, gently scratching around the nape of her neck, hoping she’ll come back to him soon.

“Mmmmm,” Briar hums, smiling to herself.

Harry smiles, increasing the pressure and speed like he’s petting Gus.

“Stop,” Briar whines, her hair now in her face.

“Sorry, Birdie. How do you feel?”

“Good. Sleepy,” Briar yawns.

“Hungry? I can order us something,” Harry taps her sides.

“Can we have Caesar salads and Diet Cokes?” She cranes her neck to look back at him.

Harry laughs, “Sure, baby.”

“And french fries.”

“You got it,” Harry leans down and kisses her.

Briar is staying at Harry’s while he’s in the city for a few in-person meetings. It’s been nice; she does yoga outside in the mornings, takes Gus for walks around the picturesque neighborhood, and cooks using his expensive appliances.

🦊: Hi, Birdie.

🐥: Hi Daddy

🦊: Miss me yet?

🐥: I like being able to lay sideways in your bed

🦊: You can do that when I’m there.

🐥: You’re too hard

🦊: How’d you know? Send me a picture.

🐥: It’s 10AM. Pay attention to your meeting

🦊: I’m not asking.

Though Harry isn’t home, Briar still walks around his house scantily clad. An idea to terrorize her boyfriend pops into her head. Bolting up the stairs, Briar grabs her plug from Harry’s special area in his closet. She smirks to herself, feeling the cool metal in her hand. She walks outside, peering over Maureen’s fence to ensure no one will witness what she’s about to do.

She gathers spit in her mouth before lubricating the plug. She places one foot on the lounge chair for leverage, before nudging the plug past her entrance. Waddling around, she moves two lounge chairs to face one another. Propping her phone up on one, she shuffles to the other to get into position. She removes her sleep tank top and silk shorts, staring up into the sky to get some sun on her face.

She kneels, making sure to pop her ass out more. The phone is set to video so she can take screen shots of the poses she likes best. Or just send the whole damn video to him.

She makes sure to twist her body to fake some curves, looking over her shoulder and touching her hair. She fiddles with the plug, making her whine.

Yup, she’s sending the video.

After a few minutes, she gets up from the lounge chair, being sure to flash the camera. She grabs the phone, scanning it over her body before blowing a kiss.

Delivered

Looking around again, she quickly throws her clothes back on, opting to leave the plug in for the day. Gus joins her outside, laying on the chair opposite hers. She has an urge to shut her phone off completely, just to push Harry’s buttons a little more.

Her quiet morning is interrupted by her ringtone blaring. She picks up without saying anything.

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“Who is this?” Briar is holding back laughter.

“I am in a meeting, little girl. You sent that video when all I told you to send was a photo.”

“So are you jerking yourself in the bathroom?”

“What a fucking mouth on you, huh? And yeah, your little video is causing a problem,” Harry grits.

Briar whines, “Don’t you wish it was my little hand, Daddy? Or my mouth?”

Harry slams his fist against the bathroom stall. His neck vein is protruding as he growls.

Briar is full on smiling to herself. She’s not particularly horny right now, but she’s happy to aid Harry with his issue. She can hear his panting increase before a clattering of the phone.

“Harry?”

“Fuck, I dropped my phone,” he laughs incredulously.

“Oh my, well, maybe I should let you go,” Briar trails off.

“No, baby. Almost done. Just tell Daddy how much you love,” he groans. “Love him.”

“I love you, Daddy. So much. Come for me,” Briar says, leaning into her chair.

Harry releases into the toilet with a strangled moan. He prays to God the conference room walls are thick. He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe down his misfires before flushing.

“Thanks, Birdie. You’re in so much trouble when I’m home. Love you.”

“Okay, bye.”

She hangs up, shaking her head. She looks over her shoulder to see Maureen standing at the fence, watering her plants. Briar gives her a tight smile and wave, to which Maureen grimaces in response.

Briar lounges for a few hours before feeling intense boredom. She cleans a little bit, making sure to dust Harry’s various trinkets from his travels. She lightly wipes a ceramic elephant he got in Thailand, a Russian nesting doll from his time in St. Petersburg, and a clay shark from South Africa. While Harry has been all over the globe, the two share a desire to one day back back in South America. She hopes a llama trinket will one day sit on this shelf.

It’s been a few weeks since the lunch with Briar’s mom and since Harry sent the letter to Camille. While she’s happy Harry is attempting to get to know his son, Briar can’t help but feel extreme anxiety. Why hasn’t Camille responded?

The shrill sound of the doorbell and Gus’s subsequent bark breaks Briar’s train of thought. She can see a figure through the frosted glass of Harry’s front door, lingering at the table of snacks designated for delivery drivers.

Briar can see the UPS logo on the man’s shirt, so she lets him pick his goodies before opening the door. She waved to him as he drives away, looking down at the package at her feet. She wonders if Harry sent her something for when he returns.

Bending over, she’s surprised at the package’s weight. If it were new lingerie, it’d be light. She bends at the knees, inhaling when she lifts the package. Shooing Gus away, she manages to get the package to Harry’s long kitchen table.

She’s wracking her brain what it could be. The entire package is wrapped in brown paper. She flips it over to see the label. Harry’s name written in cursive letters using a Sharpie. Her eyes are drawn to the left hand side; the sender.

C. Rowe 4 Rue Dupetit-Thouars Paris, France 75003

A lump forms in Briar’s throat. It’s been a few hours since she talked to Harry this morning. Her fingers start to dial his number.

“If you’re calling for a follow-up to this morning, I have to let you know that Niall is right next to me.”

She hears Niall groan in the background. When she doesn’t laugh or respond, Harry tries again. “Birdie?”

“Hi, I-I wanted to tell you that a package came f-for you,” Briar chokes out.

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, “Okay, just leave it with the others. Anything else?”

He wants to be sweet with her, but she knows not to call about random things while he’s in meetings.

“I-it’s from Camille.”

Silence. Briar closes her eyes.

Harry sighs, “I see. Okay, thanks for letting me know, pup. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to be okay until then?”

“Y-yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s okay. This whole thing is a little odd. Just try to take your mind off it. Throw it in my office if you don’t feel like seeing it.”

“Okay, I will. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Harry sighs. Niall looks over at him empathetically.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating one of the servers?”

Niall’s eyes go wide before rubbing his temples, “She told you?”

“What? Why wouldn’t she? She’s my girlfriend.”

“We’re not dating. We hooked up once...twice.”

“Mhm,” Harry laughs. “Better nip that in the bud, then.”

Niall groans again just as their next meeting begins.

The anticipation is killing Briar. Harry is due home any minute, so she’s pacing between his kitchen and living room. Sitting on the sofa, sitting on the stool, sitting on the chair, standing by the window. She can’t keep still.

She joins Gus in his outburst of barking and running from window to window when they hear Harry’s car pull into the garage. She pokes her head into the garage to see Harry unloading his bags from the back.

She walks over to him, pressing her hands into his chest.

“Hi, Birdie. Missed you,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“Welcome home,” she smiles back at him.

She grabs the wheeled suitcase, lifting it over the threshold of the door.

“Let me change and we can open it,” Harry says simply. Briar’s stomach drops.

“Okay.”

Briar corrals Gus to the sofa, the two of them perching in the corner seat. Harry changed into colorful sweatpants and a t-shirt that says ‘vote vote vote’. He grabbed the package from his office on his way back into the main living room.

He places the package on the coffee table. The two of them stare at it silently.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this alone?”

“Mm, no, it’s okay. If there’s a letter, then I’ll read that on my own.”

Briar nods, waiting for him to open the box.

Harry peels the brown paper from the edges, tearing straight through his and Camille’s names.

He removes the paper in its entirety, examining the oversized shoe box before pulling the lid off. He places it off to the side while peering at the contents. From first glance, it looks like junk.

He scrunches his eyebrows when he spots one of his old shirts. Did Camille really use this as an opportunity to send his shit back?

He moves the shirt to reveal a few envelopes, a baby rattle, a small pair of vans, a stuffed dog, and drawings.

Harry opens one of the envelopes to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. He can feel his eyes start to sting. They’re in chronological order, showing his son grow from a tiny baby to an excited 7 year old. Briar has her head on his shoulder, silently viewing the photos. The birth photo has words scribbled in Sharpie at the bottom.

Oliver Styles Rowe 18-11-2016 3.3kgs | 53 cm

Harry is crying now. Briar rubs his back, trying to encourage him to keep going.

He flips through the photo, feeling vomit bubble up his throat. This kid looks like a lot of fun. Fun that’s killing him to not have been a part of. Camille keeps him well travelled; there are photos from Tokyo, Australia and Mexico.

Unlike most babies, Harry’s had his signature curls from the start. Briar gasps at the photos as they get closer to present day. Oliver is Harry’s twin.

Oliver receives great marks in school; he’s pictured with several certificates and trophies. He even seems to be a footballer.

Harry puts the stack on the coffee table, turning to face Briar.

“Wow,” Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“What’re you thinking?”

“Just heartbroken all over again.”

Harry went into his office to read the letter. He stops at his bar cart to pour himself some tequila.

It’s short, but gives Harry some closure. Over the last 8 years, Camille embraced motherhood by focusing less on work. She meditates, volunteers regularly, and is extremely involved at school activities.

She and Theo, their mutual friend from study abroad, have been together since she moved back. That sends a pang to Harry’s heart. They got married about 5 years ago, and have a little girl named Amélie. She only talks a little about Oliver, saying how much he reminds her of Harry.

Camille apologizes, which Harry didn’t expect. She recognizes cutting him off from his son was wrong. She also left her contact information, followed by the last line.

He would love to meet you. I think it’s time.

Tears are fully falling on Harry’s cheeks as the heaviness of the last 8 years hits him. His son has Styles in his name. He smiles to himself, feeling the butterflies in his stomach.

He shoves the letter in his desk drawer before wiping his eyes. He joins Briar and Gus back in the living room cozied up by the fire.

____________________________________________________________________

OHM YGOD. SOMEONE PLZ TALK TO ME AB BIRDIE AND HARRY I AM LIVINGGGGG

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