#thinking about how i can ruin his life with pain and heartbreak

[roe-and-memory]

lightning and his struggle with emotions save me….

those feelings of inadequacy that suffocate his every thought, that fear that if he messes up — acts in a way that nobody wants him to — then he’ll lose everything.. and how, for a little while, all those feelings carry over to radiator springs (maybe they even stick around for the rest of his life)

i cant see lightning as much of a crier, he doesnt seem like the type to want to express those emotions, especially in front of people, and thinking about this concept in the context of radiator springs is sooo…

hes finally got those people that love him and hes so terrified that if he makes one wrong move, says one wrong word, then they’ll kick him to the curb and he’ll be alone again that he just. Stiffles. these feelings.

for a while no one really notices, but flo is the first one to realize she’s never seen him in any negative mood aside from anger like.. ever? she tries to brush it off, make an excuse in her mind for him, but the more she tries to neglect it the more obvious it becomes that he’s purposely hiding his feelings from them and she cant figure out, for the life of her, why. she mentions it to doc, asks him quietly if hes ever seen or heard lightning cry, and the silent pondering from the man is enough to tell her that he Hasnt.

she doesnt wanna be nosy, but shes so concerned because she KNOWS there has to have been something thats upset him in his time here, he just hasnt expressed it to anyone…

but imagine her shock, three months into lightnings life in the town, he comes into the cafe on the brink of tears with scraped shins, blood staining his now torn jeans, and a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

he apologizes to her, sits down in a booth — seemingly not realizing hes wiping blood everywhere — and buries his face in his crossed arms that are resting on the tabletop. its the first time flo has seen him look this scared, and it brings up those thoughts of how long he’s been hiding these emotions from everyone. she watches from behind the counter, a half dried bowl in her hand as she finally catches the slight trembling of his shoulders and her heart just Breaks.

lightning had nowhere else to go for this — docs clinic was closed and doc himself was at home, sally was at home, Everyone was at Home — so the best idea he could come up with was hiding at flos in an attempt to get away from everyone else because when the string of events that went wrong occurred, he Knew then it was that final straw that was gonna rip the carpet out from underneath him and bring him to exhausted, overstimulated tears.

i think at some point flo stops what shes doing, studies the empty cafe, and abandons her dishes to sit down at the table with him. she scooches into the booth beside him and rubs gentle circles on his back like a mom would, and, unbeknownst to her, that just makes him sob harder.

part of her is happy that hes feeling this, but oh Boy, that mom part of her is genuinely heartbroken for him. she doesnt know what happened but she can safely assume hes in pain and startled, and she knows shes willing to sit here for as long as she needs to make sure he feels safe and comfortable again, even if it means keeping these tears a secret from people like doc and sally at lightnings request.

#cars 2006 #cars fandom #lightning mcqueen #pixar cars #cars headcanons #memory’s headcanons #cars 3 (2017) #doc hudson #sally carrera #flo cars #cars writing #2 posts in one night is crazy #who is this #i miss lightning soo bad #thinking about how i can ruin his life with pain and heartbreak #love that stupid little idiot

[peachesofteal]

I keep thinking about Simon having to come home and telling Darling that Johnny is gone.

Not canon for Dead Disco. MW3 spoilers.

The little vial weighs a thousand pounds in his pocket. It holds the weight of his entire life, his love, one half of the only good thing about his entire existence. His future, turned to ash. Stolen. Vanished in a blink of an eye, like he was never even here to begin with. One light of his life, bright blue eyes that shone in the darkest moments of Simon's life, ripped away. His Johnny, now his angel.

His Johnny. His future. Yours. The life he shared, with him, with you. Gone now, forever.

It should have been him. He should have been there. He should have caught that bullet in his skull. Not Johnny. Not the one who had so much more, so much promise, so much to live for. All Simon had was him, and you. Johnny had the whole world.

He rubs his face, blinking his eyes wide to stare at the front door of the flat. He tries to force himself to take a step, put his key in the lock and cross the threshold, but his legs won't work, body rebelling against the logic of his brain.

If he doesn't go inside, then his family can't be ruined yet. He can still live in this in-between, daydreaming about Johnny just lagging behind him, coming up the stairs from the car, complaining about how tired he is, or going on and on about how he can't wait to see you, and he doesn't care if you're asleep, he's waking you up this time because he knows you'd want him to.

If he doesn't go inside, he can save you too. He can still safeguard your heart, still protect you, still keep you whole. He can save you from the pain, the heartbreak. Succeed where he's failed.

How can he face you? How can he open this door and tell you Johnny is gone? That he failed, failed to protect him, and in turn, failed to protect you. Failed to keep the love of his life safe from harm, like he always promised.

His hands tremble, sob cresting in his throat that he covers his mouth for, pressing his palm tight enough to cut off the flow of oxygen. How is he supposed to live, without Johnny? How are you supposed to? How can the two of you exist in a world where he does not exist?

He doesn't know. He thinks, most likely, he was never supposed to know.

You're freshly showered. Hair still wet, little droplets of water on your legs, absolutely beaming in one of Johnny's t shirts. You're happy to see him, no doubt expecting Johnny to be just behind him, and you've already got your arms extended, half skipping, half running towards where he stands, silent and shell shocked, just inside the door.

"You're home!" You breathe in his neck when you jump into his arms, and like a robot, he holds you tight, hands closing around you, entire body curling over you, squeezing you so tight he's sure it must hurt. If he can just, swallow you whole. Burrow you into his skin, hide you, shield you, keep you safe, then you'll never have to know hurt again. You'll never be faced with this pain, again. Not like him. "Where's Johnny?" you mumble, mouth full of sweatshirt and skin, his muscles turning to stone without his say so. You push off, trying to peek around him to the hallway, standing on your tip toes. "He still coming up?" The lump in his throat scorches his skin like lava.

"Darling."

"Hmm?" You look up at him, really looking, searching, and a small frown tugs your lips downward. "You look tired, Si." He can't answer, can't even speak, so he takes you by the hand and walks you gently over to the couch. As you sit, your face twists into something more confused, and finally... wary. "What's... going on?"

"There's been-" He can't. His heart screams in his chest, fire burning through his veins, mind shattering pain ripping through his skin.

"What is it?" You whisper, and when you look at him, he sees the fear in your eyes, the worry. They dart from him to the front door, waiting. Watching. Looking for the man who's not coming home. "Where is Johnny." He takes your hands, folding lithe fingers into his palms and anchors them there as he tries to take a deep breath.

"He's gone." They're barely words. Barely anything. And he realizes, in the back of his mind, that it's the first he's said them. First time he's told anyone, that Johnny is gone. First time that he's needed to. It's agony.

"Where did he go?" You rear back, confused.

"He-"

"He's gone where?" You try to pull back, legs shifting restlessly under you, but he strengthens his grip. He cannot let you out of his sight now, not ever. "Simon." Panic tinges his name, and he closes his eyes, trying to stave off the tears that are trying to spill over. "Simon, you're scaring me."

"He's gone. He- he died, darling. We lost him." He's not sure if he's even in his body anymore. He can feel his face growing wet, his sight distorted by his tears, hands clutching onto yours so fiercely, like someone is trying to rip you away.

"No." You tell him, like it's that simple. A denial. Refusal. "No, stop. No he can't be. He-"

"Please." Simon begs, pulling you into his chest. "Please, I know-“

"No- nononono. Simon. No." You're cracking now, crumbling under the truth, twisting in his grip, trying to pull away.

He lets you. Lets you jerk backwards, look at him head on with those wide, horrified eyes.

You stare him like he’s a stranger. Like you’ve never known him a day in your life, like you’re trying to peer into his brain, see the truth for yourself. He watches you, sees how your mind works to process it, sees how your eyes fill with tears, how your face crumples.

And then you scream.

You scream like you're being torn to pieces. You scream like you're watching it happen, all over again. Scream like a third of your heart is being ripped from your chest, your entire body shaking, fingers fisting in your hair and yanking. Ripping it out from the roots, fingernails digging into your scalp until they draw blood, chest splitting open with awful, terrible sobs. Sobs he never wanted to hear. Sobs he'll hear for the rest of his life, every time he closes his eyes, played with the sound of that single gunshot.

"Darling." He grabs back onto you, holding your hands in his, detangling them from your hair, and you don't even realize, don't even respond, breaths coming in short, frantic gasps that make him feel scared.

"He said... he promised, y-you promised." You cry, broken, and it buries him beneath a mountain of despair. "He can't b-be gone, he can't be gone, he can't." He holds you tight, tucks your face under his chin, into his neck. You shake in his arms, matching the trembling in his own body as his tears fall, and he lowers the two of you to the floor, rocking back and forth, murmuring nonsense into your hair above the sound of your moans.

Time passes slowly. You cling to him, almost like a child, refusing to move your face from his neck, pressing so hard into his skin he thinks you may be hurting yourself, until you fall asleep, exhausted from stress, heartbreak, grief. Your body worn out from crying, crying so hard you were coughing and gagging, screaming so loud your throat grew hoarse. For hours, he holds you, soothing you back to sleep whenever you startle awake, telling you that he's here, that he's got you, all while keeping his eyes fixed on the wall, where a framed photograph looks on with memories frozen inside it’s glass.

#ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #Simon Riley #female reader #mw3 spoilers #mwiii spoilers #dead disco #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader x soap

[thedevilssinner]

Elven soulmates - Astarion x Elf!Tav - Headcanon

I listened to one song and for some reason it screamed Astarion x Tav at me. This man is really ruining my life 😅

Anyway… the song was ‘IDK you yet’ and I just thought about the two of them being soulmates or something like that and then I found a thread on https://www.enworld.org about elven relationships and someone mentioned soulmates which got me searching and I found this page https://www.realmshelps.net/charbuild/races/elf/leaf.shtml where is mentioned that elves can find someone they call their thiramin which should mean soulmate in elvish language. 

Here’s the part from the https://www.realmshelps.net :

Upon reaching adulthood, elves continue their sexual explorations. Eventually, though, each discovers that his heart has developed a capacity for lasting and exclusive love. Like most other important things in their lives, elves describe this in mystical terms. They believe that a person's spiritual progress is unknowingly intertwined with that of another. This soulmate is called a thiramin. Upon meeting his thiramin, an elf's heart fills with passion and certainty. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the other party is felled by the same feeling of immediate and eternal devotion. (Though rare, an unrequited feeling of thiramin is always disastrous, bringing centuries of wrenching heartbreak. Sufferers often commit suicide or succumb to the temptations of evil.) Elves almost always feel thiramin for people they meet for the first time: In other words, visitors from other communities. Intermarriage between communities strengthens the bonds of communication between settlements, allowing them to quickly band together against the armies of evil that march across the land.

Now… You can imagine what that did to me, when I thought about the idea of Elf Tav knowing Astarion before he was turned into a vampire so… here’s some headcanons. Suffer with me.

Tav and Astarion met in Baldur's gate. Tav being new to the city. Young elf exploring the world outside their home.

Maybe they met in an art gallery or a tavern or some other place… that’s up to you, but when their eyes met, they immediately knew the other one was their thiramin. Heart beating wildly as they smile at each other.

They start dating, of course. Trying to get to know each other and spend as much time together as possible. 

I think that Tav would call Astarion their star… or maybe even ‘my starry night’

Astarion would call them ‘my moon’ (idk, I just love the idea of them using moon and stars as pet names)

Or… inspired by Game of Thrones - Astarion would call Tav ‘my sun and stars' while Tav would call him ‘the moon of my life’

Maybe they dated for a year or two, thinking about buying a house together.

But then Astarion was beaten ‘to death’ by the Gurs.

Tav could immediately tell that something was terribly wrong. The connection they felt with Astarion severing and sharp pain piercing through their heart. Panicked, they tried to find Astarion, going to his home but they already came too late.

Their blood turned into ice when they saw the mercenaries from the Flaming Fist already around his home. Seeing them carrying an awfully pale and beaten body of Astarion. (I don't remember if it was mentioned if Astarion lived in a Lower or Upper city before he was turned, so I chose a Lower city 🤷🏻‍♀️) (Also, not sure how and where exactly were he turned so I hope this is fine)

After a few days, Tav still couldn’t comprehend what truly happened. They felt just… empty. As if every color, every piece of happiness was ripped away from their soul. Not even able to visit Astarion’s grave because of that.

When Tav's family found out, they came to them, taking them to their homeland, because they knew how bad losing your soulmate could end for an elf. Tav fell into a deep grief and depression that lasted almost 100 years, doing some questionable things here and there until they started to function again.

On the other side - Astarion was beaten by Gurs but his final death came from Cazador, the change itself working just like if he truly died. His connection to Tav is severed and the shock of his change into a vampire erases all memory of them from his mind.

And then the 200 years of torture begin. Astarion doing anything he could and needed to do for survival. Flirting and luring victims to Cazador. He was good at it, great even, but something always felt wrong. 

Well, everything he did for Cazador was wrong, but touching another person, sleeping with them, and whispering words of love to them seemed wrong for another reason he couldn't understand. It was as if his subconscious was always trying to tell him something, but he couldn't say what.

There was just always something wrong with the victims. Wrong eye color, wrong tone of voice or even their pet names they sometimes used for him. 

Is he missing something? Someone? Longing for the embrace of a specific person that is unknown to him.

He always blamed his vampirism for this feeling. Thinking that’s just how it is. The feeling of wrongness and emptiness residing in him for the 200 years of his unlife.

Until the Mind Flayers and Nautiloid.

But back to Tav:

After a hundred years of grief, Tav finally started to get better. Diving into learning the profession/class they have chosen. Trying to enjoy life as much as they could, but the emptiness never fully disappeared. As if part of their soul was still gone.

They even tried to date, pressured by their family to at least try, but when their new partner tried to kiss them… they just couldn’t do it, dull pain spreading through their body and guilt flooding their mind. They immediately break up with the person and decide never to find a partner again.

But apart from that, they were relatively happy. Another 100 years slowly drifting away, the memories of Astarion remaining, if a little faded.

Until the Mind Flayers and Nautiloid.

Game plot:

Tav was walking with Shadowheart and Gale when they heard someone call for help.

Of course, they immediately headed for the voice, trying to help all the survivors of the crashed ship.

But when they finally came to the person they heard, the blood ran cold in their veins, the weapon they held falling from their grasp. It was like seeing him for the first time in their life but at the same time not… Astarion.

They notice that he looks different. His eyes are the wrong color and he’s so pale… but it’s him. They know it is because their soul sang when their eyes locked… but how? 

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those bran things…” Astarion's voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on Tav and gasped as an unfamiliar sensation filled his body. It was as if everything finally clicked and his mind was flooded with memories he didn't know he had.

That's how far I've come with this idea. I'm not sure how it would have gone on, but I imagine it would have taken a while for Tav and Astarion to become partners again. Both mourning the years they could have spent together if it weren't for Cazador. Tav learning to love the new Astarion he has become, because he was different from the elf they knew before and Astarion learning to love again overall.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x elf!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #headcannons #astarion fanfic idea #fanfic idea #astarion headcanons #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn reader #elf tav #Spotify

[lovingrosewho]

Framed

Hello there! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything but I recently began watching Criminal Minds again and fell in love with Aaron Hotchner all over again as well, so I just had to write this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) This is my first Criminal Minds (published) fanfic, and the first Hotch x Reader I’ve written ever! (also the first nsfw)

ONE SHOT (but who knows, it may even have a part 2 on a future maybe not-so-near but not-so-far-away either)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Cis!fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3467

Summary: reader has been accused of murdering her older, rich ex-fiancé (of course I took my inspo for this piece of fanfiction from Brooke Whyndam, of the movie “Legally blonde”, also, the line “then show them a picture of his dick” is from that movie).

Warnings: NSFW content (innuendo, sex, curse words, age gap - reader is in her mid twenties, Hotch is in his early/mid forties)

“I didn’t do it!” you scream one last time slamming your fist on the table, on the edge of tears.

It had passed around 8 hours already with you in custody, accused of the murder of your ex-fiancé, a (quite older) man, CEO of a big company in town, and as if that wasn’t enough, the best friend of the sheriff.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rubs his face, tired, after observing Prentiss and Morgan’s attempts to get you to confess. It’s almost 3am.

“Sheriff, with all due respect, I think she’s telling the truth” he tells him with a soft voice after a deep sigh.

“And with all due respect, you profiled that the suspect would be a female in her mid twenties, who we’d have to get the information out of her”.

“And we also profiled she’d be seeking for attention and validation which we don’t see it happening do we?” Aaron retorts rolling his eyes discreetly.

The sheriff gives SSA Aaron Hotchner one last glance before grabbing the doorknob of the interrogation room and storming in, Hotch follows close behind, seeing how the sheriff turns off the videocamera recording what happens inside the interrogation room, knowing no good can come from asking the same questions over and over again when everybody is also tired and fed up with trying to get a false confession out of you, which, from your behavior, Hotch knows it’s impossible.

“That’s it!” the sheriff yells “You killed my best friend! Either you confess or I’ll let you rot in here the rest of the 72 hours we can have you legally detained!”

“For the last time, I. Didn’t. Do it!” you yell back.

The BAU team exchanges glances between each other.

“What judge is going to believe you huh? You were engaged to a successful man in his mid fifties! And then he goes and marries someone even younger than you!”

“That was over two years ago!” you talk back.

“You had motive and opportunity, no judge nor jury is going to understand any other reason for you to be with him that is not for the money”.

“Then show them a picture of his dick! That might clear a few things up” you finally bark at him. The sheriff looks at you in astonishment. Morgan disguises a snicker as a cough, Prentiss bites down her lower lip to suppress a laugh, and Hotchner… Hotchner just stands impassive at you.

The sheriff leaves the room enraged, and everyone else follows, not before giving you an apologetic look. Hotchner is the last one to stay. You see the slightest doubt on his eyes and the subtle twist his lips make. You know he’s thinking about letting you go, but he then lowers his stare and gets out of the room, just like everybody else.

You sigh, drained out of energy after all the interrogations. This can’t be happening to you.

You knew since the moment you met John, that just his pure acquaintance could ruin your life. He had many enemies, and even more groupies who belonged to social circles that if you hadn’t met him, you would have never even imagined they existed, but what you had never imagined either, was that after all the heartbreak, loss and pain of what you thought in that moment to be the love of your life, you’d be reliving all those feelings, cause of some stupid cop negligence.

You lay your head slowly on the table, feeling the coldness of the metal surface on your cheek, and close your eyes for just a couple of minutes. You can’t sleep, not until this nightmare is all over, but at least, you get to have a few moments of peace and quiet before some other agent enters the room and begins yet another interrogation, demanding new information. Information you don’t have.

Outside the gray room, where you can’t hear nor see anything, the BAU team argues with the sheriff about your freedom.

“We’ve gotten out of her everything we’re going to get, I’m telling you, she didn’t do it” Morgan tries to reason with him.

“An unsub who planned a homicide this calculated would be equally calculated both on his answers and his behavior, this girl was in shock when we started showing her the case photos and couldn’t get a single cohesive phrase out. You can’t pin this murder on her” Emily backs up Morgan.

The sheriff looks at both of them, puffs a sigh and places his hands on his hips before discussing.

“Look, I get it, you profilers or whatever think you’re better than all of us, but this is still my county, and while I can have her in custody, I will. Who knows? She might even give up a confession or at least some new information. Goodnight gentlemen. And lady” he starts to walk to the exit without giving any of them any chance to convince him “I suggest you too get some rest. It’s been a long day and there’s one even longer ahead of us. Lock up when you get out”.

With that last statement, the sheriff ends the discussion and exits the precinct. Morgan and Prentiss move their heads in disagreement, proceeding to look back at Hotch, who is frowning at the door the sheriff just left through.

“What now?” both the BAU members look at the unit chief.

“Sheriff is right in one thing: you should get some rest. I’ll stay here with (Y/N), keep her company and see if there’s something we missed” he declares “Call Reid, Rossi and JJ, head back to the hotel, I’ll catch up with you in a few hours”.

“Hotch she’s not our unsub” Morgan defends you again “I mean we could, let her go right?”

“I’m afraid not. If we step ahead of the local officers, we might make things worse by getting ourselves kicked out of the investigation. It’ll be of more use the sooner we find something, anything, that might help (Y/N) clear her name and get her out of here” Hotch answers, he’s looking at Morgan but directs his orders to both of them, he knows his team too well to not know for a fact that Emily is the one who’s more inclined to let you go. They both nod silently.

“All right” Emily surrenders, not just because she’s too tired to continue arguing, but because she also knows that perhaps getting back to the hotel and going over some of the facts and scenes with Reid or JJ, might be more useful “Do you want me to stay with you? I mean the precinct is completely empty. You’ll be here all by yourself”.

“It’s okay. You and Morgan. Hotel. Rest. We’ll gather first thing in the morning and go through everything we have so far” he assures and doesn’t wait for a reply, beginning to walk back to the interrogation room, hearing the exit door of the precinct close behind him and the key turning.

When he enters again, he finds you on the same position you were trying to rest, your cheek against the now warm table, your hair falling on it and covering parts of your face.

“I’m not asleep” you mutter softly “I just needed to clear my head, breath and relax for a bit”.

Hotch lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, but everything is so quiet, that you get to hear it.

“(Y/N) I know you didn’t do it” he pronounces just as softly as you.

“Really?” you frown and shift your position, sitting back on the chair, looking at him “Then… can I go?”

He presses his lips into a straight line, and lets out a firm, but still tender “no”. A single tear escapes your right eye and you wipe it off quickly, not quite giving in to the emotions just yet. Hotch notices and comes to stand right next to you, laying on the edge of the table.

“If I’d let you go, the local authorities would not let us continue the investigation and they’d pin that murder on you. Trust me, the best we can do right now is wait a few hours until everyone has cooled down and come back with fresh eyes” he guarantees you, his features relaxing as he tells you this “Everything’s gonna be fine”.

“Everything’s gonna be fine” you repeat his words slowly, then look up at him. Damn it. He’s handsome. It’s no secret to anyone you have a thing for older men, but did that trait really have to emerge right now? You can’t help but to laugh out loud at the thought, it’s absurd to you that you could be thinking of that when you’re being accused of murder.

“What’s so funny?” he asks confused, and distances himself ever so slightly from you, without leaving his place on the table.

“Nothing, just…” you start, in an attempt to explain yourself and don’t end up looking crazy “God, if I had met you under any other circumstances, I’d probably be all over you right now”.

SSA Aaron Hotchner does not move, nor his face changes towards you, but you can see the most subtle blush on his cheeks, and his fists tightening. His lips finally crack up a light smile, finding the situation absurd as well, he quickly remembers the videocamera is off.

“You do realize you could be facing murder charges, right?” he asks playfully, kinda mocking you, keeping the volume of his voice down.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry” you apologize “It’s just so late, I’m tired, and well, you’re smoking hot” you confess with an apologetic, but also mischievous, look. Hotch finally lets out a laugh. Get a hold of yourself, Hotchner, he thinks to himself, takes a deep breath and goes back to his serious stare.

“(Y/N), I understand it’s been a long day in which you’ve been under a lot of pressure, but for me to keep up this game would be not only unprofessional, but also unethical. Your mind is probably just making up this crush for you to pass the time and distract yourself from what is happening. You’ll get over me” he explains sweetly.

“I wish I could get under you instead…” your witty retort catches him off guard, he swallows hard and starts coughing. He’s not used to women flirting with him anymore, not for a long time, let alone women almost half his age.

“I’ll see you in a few hours” he says standing up and reaching towards the door, not really uncomfortable by your approaches, but more by his increasing boner.

“No, okay I’m sorry, please stay with me” you beg him, standing up as well “I was just joking. Well, not really, but just… please keep me company, stay?”

He turns back at you not realizing how close you are, less than a couple steps behind him and he almost crashes into you, but he prevents the two of you from tripping by stabilizing himself grabbing your hips, but his hands can’t get to let go afterwards. You breath heavily, feeling the arousal and heat from the proximity suffocating you.

“Please fuck me” you half ask, half beg, admitting to yourself that what you need right now is precisely what agent Hotchner said: relieving some stress and distraction.

SSA Aaron Hotchner can’t help himself.

Ugh, fuck it, he thinks. It’s the sheriff’s fault for turning off the videocamera in an attempt to scare you and try and trick you into making a confession.

Without any further notice, he grabs your ass and the highest part of the back of your thighs to lift you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his back and your arms around his neck, not breaking eye contact as you let him carry you to the table. He places you on the table with tenderness, caressing your back as he does so. You bring your dominant hand to grab his tie and pull him in for a long, wet, controlled kiss, running your other hand along his arm and chest, ending the trace on his cheek, allowing your thumb to move back and forth on his skin.

Quite to be honest, Aaron doesn’t know how well he’ll be able to perform. It’s been a while since he’s last had sex, and his mind is always either on his job, or his family. He’ll probably won’t last more than a few minutes. But he can try and make it up to you.

He begins to deviate his trace of wet kisses from your mouth, to you jaw, your neck, and slowly your chest, discovering little by little the skin under your clothes, while his hands drop by the side of your waist, hips and legs, exploring you under the midi skirt you’re wearing. His right hand finds the slit between your legs, covered by your panties, and starts caressing it through the fabric. He listens to you moan and brings his other hand to cover your mouth with endearment, letting you know you’ve got to keep quiet.

He moves your panties to the side and traces one finger along your slick, inserting it inside of you. You have to suppress an even louder moan. He moves that one finger up and down, hitting your G spot, inserting another finger when you’re ready.

“Please” you beg once again. Aaron chuckles, grabbing you and getting you closer to the edge of the table, proceeding to get down on his knees and sucking all your juices without any type of heads up. You can’t but let out a loud moan. He looks up at you, and even though his eyes demand silence, you can tell there’s the slightest grin on his lips, before he continues sucking and licking your folds and clit. Your back drops to the table, unable to keep yourself steady so you can watch him. You’re trembling with desire and lust “Agent Hotchner, please” you beg once again. Hearing you call him ‘agent Hotchner’ does something to him. He stands up, wiping a little bit of your juices off his mouth and kissing you afterwards, his hands resting on either side of you on the table, one of them coming to grab each of your nipples one at a time.

“How much do you want this?” he asks softly.

“I need you” you answer “Please, fill me”.

His eyes meet yours and he nods slowly. His mouth comes to encircle one of your nipples as he pulls down your underwear and hides it in his suit pocket, and undoes his belt and trousers, without taking any clothes off. You come up from your laying position to support yourself with your elbows on the table, not wanting to miss how the special agent from the FBI takes his cock out to give it to you.

When he’s got it out and ready for you, he pumps it up and down a couple of times before lifting entirely your skirt and positioning himself in your entrance. He enters slowly, letting you take him all in, allowing you to accustom to his size, and for the love of him, he feels like he could explode any second. He breathes deeply and clears his mind, his ego not letting him end up looking like a teenager having his first time.

“Let me ride you” you ask after a few slow thrusts, needing more of him. He looks at you and nods.

God, what is he doing? At least you’re innocent. Are you? Right? You’ve gotta be. The profile doesn’t fit. But they’ve been wrong before haven’t they?

You exchange positions so he’s laying on the table, you get on top of him and guide his cock back into you again. You part your lips in a moan when you come down on him and begin moving your hips, his hands moving alongside them. You lower yourself without stopping so you can kiss him, rubbing your whole torso on his, your sweat making your skin slip on his skin. He grabs your breasts so he can bring them to his mouth, nibbling them.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if this might just be another trick for you to let your guard down. But what could you say that might incriminate you? You know you’re innocent. What if he’s not even a real agent?

You’re so close that you can’t give yourself permission to sink into those thoughts, instead, you start riding Hotch faster and stronger, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you do so.

“Aaron, Aaron…” you moan lowly. You don’t know if it’s okay that you’re on a first name basis already, but it just seems weird to you if you call him ‘Hotch’ like his colleagues.

It seems like he’s perfectly fine with it, as he digs his fingertips on your hips, encouraging you to keep going, feeling how your walls tense around him as your orgasm hits you.

You moan uncontrollably as you come, not being able to keep those in, digging your nails in Aaron’s shoulder suit sleeves. Afterwards, you lay slowly on his chest, until you start feeling like he’s pulling himself out.

“Wait” you gather and pull yourself up again, with him still inside of you “What are you doing? Don’t you wanna finish too?”

He looks at you in disbelief.

“Well I thought you may wanna rest or…” he begins explaining. You laugh and look fondly at him, lowering yourself again to murmur “don’t stop” in his ear.

Of course, he remembers. Twenties.

That’s everything he needs to start thrusting into you with everything he’s got left.

“(Y/N) I’m not-“ he tries to phrase “I’m not going to last longer, I’m- is it okay if I…?”

“Come inside me” you order “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m on contraceptives”.

He decides to believe you, for his sake, and fastens his pace until it becomes sloppy, spilling inside of you just like you asked for, his cum filling you and showing between your folds as he brings himself out.

“Oh my god” he breathes out as he brings you down to his chest, securing his arms around your back, bringing you even closer to him “I’ll put you in handcuffs myself if it turns out you’re not innocent”.

You chuckle, tracing circles on his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

“I am. But still, you can put me in handcuffs any time you want”. He laughs alongside you, still feeling a bit like a teenager. A teenager who just did something very very wrong and that nobody should find out about. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds before his cellphone starts ringing, he answers almost immediately.

“Hotchner” he says calmly “Yes I’m still here. No, everything’s fine, she’s… behaved. Prints don’t match? Well of course they don’t, was García able to tell whose are they then? Right. Well, tell her to keep digging. I’ll see you in a bit”.

After he hangs up he turns to you with a playful look.

“You never touched the gun that was in your purse, did you?” you shake your head.

“Guns and, weapons of any type really, give me the creeps, I just left it there thinking it was someone’s idea of pranking me or something”.

“Well that may have just made your case. You’re free to go. Whoever was trying to frame you did a lousy job not guessing you weren’t going to grab the gun” he tells you arching his brows at you. You stare perplexed at him.

“You’re serious? Oh my god Aaron! Thank you!” you exclaim kissing him.

“Yes, and we should get dressed and get out of here before anything else happens” he affirms gently, helping you stand up so you both can fix your clothes.

“Well, agent Hotchner, it’s been a pleasure. Truly” you tell him when the two of you are walking out of the interrogation room towards the exit.

“Pleasure is all mine, (Y/N)” he says, winking an eye at you “I’d like you to know… I don’t usually do this. I don’t…”

“Aaron” you interrupt sweetly, one of your hands coming to grab his forearm to stop him “I know. I can tell. It’s okay. I know that if I hadn’t initiated it or followed up you would have never even considered it, I get it… but now, can we please do it again?”

He chuckles.

“You know where we’re staying and the number of my hotel room, sweetheart. And I also recall reading on some case file that you’re from Virginia and were just visiting your home town?”

You smile widely at him as you nod, pulling him in from his tie for one last kiss. Or who knows, it might not even be the last one.

MASTERLIST

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fic #hotch fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team fanfiction

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift is giving fans more insight into her new album “The Tortured Poets Department,” thanks to a track-by-track experience with Amazon Music.

Fans can now listen to the album — which shattered streaming records after its release on April 19 — along with commentary from Swift breaking down the meaning of each track. To listen to “The Tortured Poets Department” with Swift’s commentary, fans can simply say to Alexa, “I’m a member of ‘The Tortured Poets Department.'”

Through the experience, Swift has revealed the inspiration behind songs including “Fortnight” with Post Malone, “Clara Bow,” “Florida!!!” with Florence + the Machine, “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” and “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys.”

“‘Fortnight’ is a song that exhibits a lot of the common themes that run throughout this album. One of which being fatalism — longing, pining away, lost dreams,” Swift said of the album’s opening song. “I think that it’s a very fatalistic album in that there are lots of very dramatic lines about life or death. ‘I love you, it’s ruining my life.’ These are very hyperbolic, dramatic things to say. It’s that kind of album.”

Of “Clara Bow,” named after the silent film actress, Swift said the track is “a commentary on what I’ve seen in the industry that I’ve been in over time.”

“I used to sit in record labels trying to get a record deal when I was a little kid. And they’d say, ‘you know, you remind us of’ and then they’d name an artist, and then they’d kind of say something disparaging about her, ‘but you’re this, you’re so much better in this way or that way.’ And that’s how we teach women to see themselves, as like you could be the new replacement for this woman who’s done something great before you,” she said. “I picked women who have done great things in the past and have been these architypes of greatness in the entertainment industry. Clara Bow was the first ‘it girl.’ Stevie Nicks is an icon and an incredible example for anyone who wants to write songs and make music.”

“Florida!!!” featuring Florence + the Machine is one of the rare songs on the album that doesn’t see Swift directly speaking of a former lover. Swift said the inspiration for this track actually came from “always watching ‘Dateline.'”

“People have these crimes that they commit; where do they immediately skip town and go to? They go to Florida,” the singer added. “They try to reinvent themselves, have a new identity, blend in. I think when you go through a heartbreak, there’s a part of you that thinks, ‘I want a new name. I want a new life. I don’t want anyone to know where I’ve been or know me at all.’ And so that was the jumping off point. Where would you go to reinvent yourself and blend in? Florida!”

As for “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me,” Swift revealed that she wrote the tune “alone, sitting at the piano in one of those moments when I felt bitter about just all the things we do to our artists as a society and as a culture.”

“There’s a lot about this particular concept on ‘The Tortured Poets Department,'” she added. “What do we do to our writers, and our artists, and our creatives? We put them through hell. We watch what they create, then we judge it. We love to watch artists in pain, often to the point where I think sometimes as a society we provoke that pain and we just watch what happens.”

Lastly, Swift broke down the metaphor within “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys.”

The song is about “being somebody’s favorite toy until they break you and then don’t want to play with you anymore,” she said. “Which is how a lot of us are in relationships where we are so valued by a person in the beginning, and then all of the sudden, they break us or they devalue us in their mind. We’re still clinging on to ‘No no, no. You should’ve seen them the first time they saw me. They’ll come back to that. They’ll get back to that.’”

#taylor swift #ttpd

[gabessquishytum]

Human au/Immortal throuple idea!

Hob and Dream are best friends but Hob has a secret. He has been in love with Dream his whole life. But as far as he knows, Dream is only interested in women.

In fact, when Hob meets Calliope in a college course, develops a crush and invites her out for drinks, he sees the exact moment Dream falls in love with her. He watches it happen and feels his heart break again. Because Calliope is amazing. hob already knows it. But what can he offer either of them?

So Hob encourages Dream and Calliope to date, and pretends it’s fine. Dream has had flings before but this time, Hob knows it is serious. Still he hangs out with them all the time. More than he should, but Hob can’t ever turn them down when they invite him out. Their other friends joke about Hob being their constant third wheel.

After a year, Dream proposes and Hob helps throw them an engagement party. And Dream and Calliope both jokingly fight over who gets Hob as their best man. They share.

But Hob is at his limit. He had tried to quiet his heart but it’s just too painful to be so in love. And as long as he is in their lives, he knows he will never get over them. So quietly, Hob puts in an application for a grad program in the states, as far away as he can get. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them, not when they’re so excited for their future. He doesn’t want to ruin their happiness.

The day of the wedding, hob is heartbroken but so happy to see them happy. He means every word of his speech, where he tells the crowd how well matched they are, and how they are his best friends. He hugs them goodbye. Even if they don’t know it’s goodbye forever, he tries to memorize those last moments. And then as Dream and Calliope depart for their honeymoon in Greece, Hob shuts the door in his packed up apartment and hops on a plane.

Dream and Calliope don’t hear from Hob on their trip—but they assume he wants to give him space. But when they get back, they find a letter from Hob waiting. Hob tells them he has loved Dream for years but he knows his feelings aren’t returned. He tells them that he is not angry and that he knows Calliope will make Dream so happy. He admits that he loves Calliope too. He tells them to take care of each other but that he needs to move on and he is sorry but this is the only way he could think to do it. If he saw them he knows they would have been able to talk him out of it.

Dream falls to pieces. He calls Hob over and over but Hob has changed his number. He has deleted his social media. Hob doesn’t want to be found. Calliope is stunned by her own heartbreak. And she’s never seen Dream like this.

Their first year of marriage is rocky. Without Hob’s joyfulness Dream drags Calliope into depressive spirals. Without his gentleness, they grate on each other’s nerves. They realize how much Hob had been the glue that helped them work. Their sex feels more like fighting for dominance than making love. Calliope is sure Dream resents her for Hob’s leaving. And sometimes he spits at her that she is right, he does. It’s clear something is missing. Now they realize not only have they lost Hob, they’re on the verge of losing each other.

Calliope, because she is a queen, finally sits Dream down to talk about Hob. He tends to fly into a rage or collapse into sadness at the mention of Hob’s name these days. But she makes him talk to her about him. About their friendship. And slowly they realize that not only did they depend on Hob, but they might have been in love with him too.

So there is only one thing to do. They have to track Hob down and convince him to give them a chance. But how will they find him when he is determined not to be found? And if they find him, what if he has already moved on?

Oh I love it!!! 3 dumbasses is the only thing better than 2 dumbasses.

I'm imagining that they rally all their friends and family to try and track Hob down. Calliope's sisters put out feelers around Europe, Death contacts all of her colleagues in the medical field, and Delirium has the amazing idea to get in touch with their brother Destruction (now know as Ollie) who also disappeared at one point and knows the best places to go to track Hob down. With a plan of action and hope in their hearts, Dream and Calliope's relationship actually settles into something more like it used to be. They feel united and they finally start to comfort each other instead of fighting.

Ollie's work pays off and he tracks Hob down studying for his PhD and living in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere. He's changed his name and even altered his appearance slightly - long hair tied back in a ponytail, beard sleek and neat around his jaw. Ollie sends the information to Dream and he and Calliope are on the first flight out to the nearest airport.

Hob is... not mad that they tracked him down. He's fucking lonely and he misses his two best friends, and he's not sure if he made the right decision. Never getting to see them hurts even more than seeing them in love. When they show up on the doorstep on his trailer he's so relieved he could cry.

Calliope smacks him on the chest, hard enough to make him stumble, and she says a lot of thing that mainly boil down to "I'm so mad that you didn't even give us a CHANCE to love you." And Dream is all teary eyes and trembling lips, holding onto Hob’s sleeve like he's going to just disappear into thin air. Eventually they all go inside, and Hob makes tea. Just like he always used to.

Dream and Calliope get on either side of Hob and twine themselves around him like vines on a trellis. They need his support and strength to allow them to grow. And they feel awful that they never even realised just how important he was. He should have been an equal partner in their relationship from the very beginning. And now they have him back, they're both practically trembling with want. They need to show him that they want him to come back and be with them always!

Meanwhile Hob is just trying to work out if this is just a wonderful dream come true... or if his two loves are really crowding him up against the wall and kissing every inch of him they can reach?!

#the sandman #immortal throuple #dream x hob x calliope

[beanghostprincess]

Can you elaborate on shanks being rightfully blamed for shuggy break up? I’m genuine

Okay, so it's not that he's "rightfully blamed". When people say Shanks did nothing wrong, they're completely right. He did absolutely nothing wrong. He's an angel. Shanks, if you're reading this, I love you. In fact, his POV when it comes to his relationship with Buggy is equally heartbreaking if not even more painful and confusing. What I mean when I constantly say Buggy is rightfully angry and resentful, is not that Shanks deserves to be hated, I'm just saying that I understand Buggy perfectly. And even if Shanks doesn't deserve to be treated this way, Buggy's feelings are perfectly understandable.

Buggy has lived as Shanks' shadow his whole life. He had to give up on his dream because Shanks was the chosen one to keep Roger's legacy alive. He gave Shanks the straw hat, and not Buggy. As we can see in the flashback in chapter 1082, it's noticeable that it was not a one time thing. Shanks was constantly seen as brighter, smarter, braver, etc. Buggy was just in the background. And you know what? He was okay with that as long as he followed Shanks, because they were best friends and if Shanks achieved his dream, Buggy would too. He gave up on his dream to follow Shanks instead because he accepted he would never be seen as somebody like him. And you can blame Buggy and say "It's not Shanks' fault that he felt inferior! He could've fought for his dream instead!" but dude, sometimes people are fucking tired of fighting when nobody else is supporting them. It's just... Understandable. And he was a kid. You know how fucking painful it is to be neglected and see how much love your best friend received? From your dad of all people.

And then Buggy thinks "Fuck it, gonna go the easy way. I'll just follow this map and sell this devil fruit". But then Shanks' appears and he makes him eat the devil fruit and lose the map. "But it wasn't Shanks' fault! He literally did nothing and it was Buggy who got scared and ate the thin-" it's a metaphor. It's not hard to understand. It's- It's symbolism turned into a literal plot. Shanks' mere existence (appearing right behind Buggy when he was about to go follow his dream) made Buggy lose his independence as a pirate (made him eat a devil fruit, making him unable to swim an d be on his own. He's literally now hated by the sea, a pirate's home) and lose the path to his dream (quite literally, lose the map). Shanks did absolutely nothing to hurt Buggy, but Buggy's feelings toward him are understandable. It's the way envy and jealousy affect people. Mostly kids/teens. And this literally ruined Buggy's life forever. He can't even go to Laugh Tale, and even if Shanks stays with him, he can't go because of his Devil Fruit (I mean, not canon yet, but quite obviously real already, c'mon). And that's just gonna give Buggy more reasons to be resentful.

Then Roger (their captain. Their dad) dies. Gets executed in front of them. Buggy sees this as an opportunity to be his legacy, so of course he trusts Shanks to do it. It's obvious in the way he talks about it that he was going to follow Shanks, or at least trust him in his journey. But then Shanks hesitates. We don't know exactly why (maybe he knew something back then. Maybe he knew they weren't ready yet. Maybe he was scared. Whatever) but he hesitates. He doubts. And Buggy, who sees Shanks as this powerful force and as the brightest pirate of all (because he has lived in his shadow for so long), of course gets angry. It isn't fair that everyone sees Shanks as the brightest when he's the one hesitating about following their dream. It isn't fair that Buggy, the one who believes in Shanks and their dream, is the one looked down upon.

Idk, I don't think Buggy hates Shanks either. It's just that his mere existence hurts too much to be with him. And tbh I find leaving somebody for that extremely valid.

#basically: you go buggy i love you you're so real you're the realest #he's so relatable #i haven't reread this tbh if there are typos i am sorry #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #shuggy #< target audience #but i'm seeing this as romantic all the time anyway they're canon to me already

[illumismaid]

any kind of guy

gojo is so any kind of guy - BTR coded

wc: 1.3k hurt/comfort you guys are teenagers

synopsis: gojo lies to you bc he's dumb :(

It was a typical late afternoon after school, and I found myself hanging out with the one and only Gojo Satoru. We had become friends over the years, and I couldn't deny that there was something more between us – something that had me blushing every time he smiled that charming smile of his. 

Gojo had been acting a little differently lately. He was normally confident and charismatic, but I'd noticed that he'd become a bit more reserved and, well, lovesick. Though he'd never admitted it, it was obvious to me that he had a crush, and I was dying to know who it was. Little did I know, he had something he needed to get off his chest. 

"Hey," Gojo said as he bumped his shoulder into mine playfully, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You've been pretty quiet lately. What's going on in that head of yours?" 

I smiled and replied, "Just lost in thought, Gojo. So, is there someone special in your life these days?" 

Gojo's face flushed slightly, and he tried to play it cool. "Special? Nah, not really. I mean, not that it's any of your business." 

My heart skipped a beat, but I couldn't help but push a little further. "Come on, Gojo, you can tell me. I won't tell a soul." 

He sighed and finally admitted, "Okay, fine. There's this one person who's been on my mind, but I don't know if they feel the same way." 

I leaned in, eager to hear more, and asked, "And who might this lucky person be?" 

Gojo scratched the back of his neck, looking adorable in his moment of vulnerability. "Well, you see, it's… it's someone I've known for a long time. Someone who's always been there for me, and I can't imagine my life without them." 

My heart raced as I realized what he was saying. Could it be me? Was he talking about me? 

Gojo's voice became even softer as he continued, "I want to tell them how I feel, but I'm afraid it might ruin our friendship. What should I do?" 

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. "Gojo, you should go for it. Life's too short to hold back your feelings. If this person means that much to you, they deserve to know how you feel." 

He looked into my eyes, and there was a mixture of relief and hope in his gaze. "You think so?" 

I nodded and smiled warmly. "Absolutely. You never know, they might feel the same way." 

With newfound determination, Gojo stood up, his face lighting up with a renewed sense of confidence. "You're right, cutie. Thanks for the advice. I think I'm going to tell Shoko how I feel tomorrow." 

I was shocked. “The person you like is Shoko?” I say disheartened. “Well yeah, who did you think it was silly!” Gojo says casually while beginning standing up. 

As he walked away, I couldn't help but wonder if I was somebody, he could ever have feelings for. 

So, after four long days, Gojo and I hadn't exchanged a word. It felt like an eternity. The air was thick with tension, and I couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. We used to spend every moment together, but now we were like strangers. 

I had been so sure he was talking about me, but to hear him talk about another girl, especially one of our mutual friends, had left me devastated. I couldn't bear the thought of being around him, knowing he had feelings for someone else. 

I had retreated into my own world, trying to keep my distance, hoping that the pain in my heart would subside. I couldn't handle the thought of seeing him with Shoko, so I chose silence instead. But it had been a painful, lonely silence. 

On the fourth day, I found myself sitting alone in our usual spot by the river, skipping stones across the water, and replaying those heartbreaking words he had spoken. 

Then, out of nowhere, I heard his voice. "Hey. Can we talk?" 

I looked up to see Gojo standing there, looking unsure and regretful. My heart ached at the sight of him. I didn't want to keep ignoring him, but the pain was still too fresh. 

Reluctantly, I nodded, and he sat down beside me, his gaze fixed on the water. "I've missed you," he admitted, his voice tinged with sadness. 

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. "Gojo, you said you had a crush on Shoko. What's there to talk about?" 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That... that was a lie." 

My head snapped in his direction, my heart racing. "A lie? But why?"

Gojo finally turned to face me, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Because I was afraid, (y/n). I was scared that if I told you how I really felt, it would ruin our friendship. But these past four days have been torture, and I can't take it anymore. I want to be any kind of guy you want me to be. I mean, I've noticed that I can be a bit... over the top sometimes. I know I can be arrogant and a show-off, and I want you to know that I'm willing to change. If there's something you don't like about me or if there's a certain kind of person you'd rather be with, I'm willing to become that person for you.” 

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check. "Gojo, what are you trying to say?" 

He took a deep breath and finally confessed, "I don't have a crush on Shoko. It's you, (y/n). I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I was too scared to admit it, but I can't keep lying to myself or to you. I love you." 

My heart swelled with a mix of emotions – relief, joy, and love. The pain of the past few days seemed to melt away, replaced by a warmth that I had longed for. 

"You don't have to change for me, Gojo," I said softly. "I care about you just the way you are.” 

With tears streaming down my face, I turned to Gojo and said, "You really had me fooled, didn't you?" 

He smiled, a mixture of relief and happiness in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have been honest from the beginning." 

I leaned in and gently kissed him, my heart finally at ease. "It's okay, Satoru. I love you too." 

thank you for reading ♡

#gojo drabbles #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #hurt/comfort #imagines #gojo satoru x you

[ellewritesandrants]

I don’t know why but the idea of a soulmate AU between Billy, Steve and Eddie captivates me, especially with the idea that Billy unknowingly gets Steve and Eddie to find out that they’re soulmates. Either in a modern AU where Billy’s a big fan of Corroded Coffin and Steve just managed to get a free ticket or something or in a canon AU where Billy and Steve are friends who want to smoke a little something so they buy from Eddie or Steve picks up the kids from Hellfire and one of them notices the marks match, I don’t really care how but I just want to explore the hurt and comfort of that.

Can you imagine Billy pining away, forever in love with the idea of his soulmate being the one who’ll save him from his situation given that’s what happened to his mom and he finds out that his crush is his soulmate but doesn’t want to tell him yet until he’s made something out of himself, until he’s deserving of love and all of a sudden, he finds out that his soulmate found his soulmate and it wasn’t Billy?

Imagine Steve happily dragging Eddie with him who already looks besotted with Steve and they show Billy the mark that he’s memorized from seeing it in the mirror thousands of times and as soon as he sees the smiles on their faces and the look of wonder in their eyes, he knows for a fact he can’t ruin their happiness. He isn’t selfish enough to do it even others would say he was and all he could do was pretend to be happy and smile at the happy couple.

Imagine Billy pulling away, either out of fear he’d inadvertently ruin their relationship or because he couldn’t stand being surrounded by what he couldn’t have and the kids weirdly enough noticing and trying to figure out what’s wrong. It doesn’t help that Neil’s always been bitter about soulmates and he loved rubbing it in Billy’s face how worthless everything regarding soulmates and soulmarks was. Billy used to be able to ignore it in the hopes of finding his soulmate but now, he knew the truth.

The kids come to a different conclusion, not realizing it was something regarding soulmates but instead, about Neil’s treatment of Billy. If canon, it would be El spying on Billy and seeing him being beaten into a pulp by his dad but in a modern AU, it would the aftermath wherein Max would ask Steve to come visit Billy and he drags Eddie along with him.

Either way, Steve and Eddie find out about the abuse that Billy’s been suffering through and the guilt that Steve felt was immeasurable for not seeing what his best friend was going through, too busy with being in love with his soulmate. With Hopper’s help, they get Neil behind bars but Billy’s a wreck and he needs people to take care of him.

Steve refused to leave Billy alone in the trailer while Max went to school and Susan went to work so he offered to have Billy move in with him and Eddie so they could take care of him. Since Steve only worked part-time and Eddie was in the same year as Billy and could drive them to and from school, it made a lot more sense than leaving him to his own devices.

Billy thinks he’s in a new level of hell as time goes by because getting to know Eddie and seeing everything he can’t have was absolutely painful and heartbreaking on another level. Being surrounded by their care and affection when he’s barely known it his entire life hurts on another level he can’t exactly describe but it’s a pain that hurts so good that he can’t exactly say no to it. His only saving grace is that his mark was casted over due to Neil’s last temper tantrum and there was no way that the boys would get to see it.

Months pass of Billy falling more and more in love with his soulmates who are already in love with each other and it hurts so good. Steve and Eddie never make him feel like an outsider the entire time he’s there but sometimes, his touch starvation reminds him of just how much he’d love to be squeezed in between them in any way possible.

Graduation comes and goes and Billy refused to let his father take his achievements away so he graduated valedictorian, dragging Eddie kicking and screaming past the finish line to graduate. Billy gets to make his speech, loudly supported by everyone and he makes sure to thank his newfound family for all of the support they’ve given him.

Of course, graduation wouldn’t be complete without a graduation party so they all get drunk and party in Steve’s house to celebrate six graduations especially Billy and Nancy who graduated valedictorian and salutatorian respectively. Both Jonathan and Nancy planned to go to the same college in Chicago while Robin and her girlfriend, Heather were heading to California soon. Billy had also gotten into the same college but he wasn’t sure about going because he’d be leaving so much behind, including his soulmates.

By now, Billy was in love with both of his soulmates and unbeknownst to him, they were both plently enamored with him and they’d been trying to build up the courage to ask him out. The party had been slightly delayed because Billy was getting his casts off about a week after graduation and they wanted to do shots, something that really wasn’t advisable with a cast.

Billy had planned to initially conceal his mark using makeup but a large part of him knew that it didn’t matter since Steve and Eddie were happy anyway so he didn’t bother. After all, both Steve and Eddie loved to show off their marks at every opportunity and no one gave a shit about Billy. Somehow, Billy had managed to keep his mark a secret from everyone but he knew Heather had some suspicions.

After some time, the drinking games start and somehow, Billy’s mark is revealed either in a dared striptease or by accident during a dare and it quickly sobers him up. He doesn’t notice at first but then Robin drunkenly pointed out that they had matching marks and the sober gaze of Eddie was too sharp for Billy to meet, instead choosing to run away, stumble to his car and hit the gas to the quarry.

It’s only there that he allows himself to breakdown and to mourn the end of what was a good friendship he had going on with his soulmates because he was sure they would want nothing to do with him now. He’s only just begun to run out of tears when he hears the telltale sound of Eddie’s van, meant to drive Nancy, Jonathan, Heather and Robin home later but was most likely currenly holding the last people Billy wanted to see.

For a moment, he considers running again but his Mama didn’t raise no coward, so he wipes his tears and stands his ground. Steve was a lot drunker than Billy was when Billy had left but it seemed he’d sobered up during the ride because he was clear-eyed when he was grabbing Billy and making sure that the blond wouldn’t run away.

Steve and Eddie trapped Billy in between them, in what seemed like a mockery of his fantasies only to have them play out right in front of him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that his soulmates would tell him that they wanted him, that they loved him and wanted to take care of him and love him. Sure, it was after an argument about why Billy felt the need to hide but he had expected rejection or at the very least a mutual ignorance of his mark. He’d never considered it a possibility but the two were convinced to try and convince him to give them a chance.

After more than a few tears and attempts to get them to realize they were better off without Billy and his baggage, Steve and Eddie stubbornly managed to convince Billy to try with them. A few kisses convinced Billy to leave his car behind so that they could get it in the morning but for now, Steve and Eddie wanted him in Eddie’s van so they were sure he wouldn’t run.

The entire ride, Billy’s mind was trying to convince him that Steve and Eddie were better off without him, that he didn’t deserve this and that he was a fraud ruining a perfectly happy couple but Steve instinctively knew something was up and he’d had Billy laid across his lap with his hair being stroked to keep the bad thoughts away while Steve affirmed Billy of all of their feelings towards him.

Halfway through the ride home, Billy was asleep and Steve had no problem carrying the younger boy into their bed so that they could finally hold him the way they wanted to. Billy had long since told them of how lonely he felt in his room but as much as they had wanted to invite Billy to literally sleep with them, they hadn’t wanted to cross any boundaries.

Tonight though, all Steve and Eddie wanted to do was to fall asleep holding their newly found soulmate. Billy awoke to Steve’s warmth cocooning him and Eddie coming in to wake him with breakfast in bed. After a hearty meal, Steve and Eddie asked if they could court Billy to show him how serious they were about their feelings for him and Billy found that much like before, he couldn’t say no to his soulmates.

Months passed with Steve and Eddie constantly trying to prove their love of Billy who eventually concedes and moves in with them in the master bedroom. It isn’t long until having Billy in between Steve and Eddie is a norm and no longer a fantasy for Billy and he realizes just how much he didn’t let himself have when he hated himself. With Steve and Eddie’s love, they helped Billy realize he was always worthy of love, care and devotion and that they were ready to spend the rest of their lives together reminding him of that fact.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove au #billy deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #ellewritesandrants #billy hargrove angst #metalsandwich #metal sandwich #harringroveson #steddilly #stilldie #harringrove #mungrove #some steddie but endgame is harringroveson #billy x eddie #billy x steve #steve harrington #eddie munson

[ahgasegotarmy116]

the 'do it for him' mini series was insanely good, it's illegal. i wish that we could have more of it. 😔

what would oc do if jungkook decides that he wants her as his wife and not his son's wife anymore, what would she do? like, would she play house with him when her husband is on a work trip because his dad keeps on sending him?

Oh my gosh thank you so much 😭 I'm so so happy you liked it! Hopefully this will help answer your questions <3

Do it for... Mini Masterlist < read for context :)

~~~~

"You told me as soon as we found out I was pregnant with my son yo-" "Our son" he taunts and I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down a bit before continuing, not wanting to raise my voice too much as the children are in the other room. "Our son, that you would leave me alone" I say and he raises a brow at me, wanting me to continue my argument. "Yet you keep coming back to me. Why can't you just leave me alone?" I say, walking over to sit down at my husband's desk. The same place where Jungkook had propositioned me several years ago. 

"Darling it's your fault, you've ruined sex for me with other women. Nothing about them compares to you" he says caressing my face leaving me flinching a bit but he holds onto my chin to keep me in place. "What about me is so special to you?" I say looking up at him with a heated gaze, full of disgust for everything about him.

"Your body and how it calls out to me even though your mind wants you to think differently. How you keep on letting me have you when my son is out of town even when you try to tell me no. How you cry every time from the guilt that is consuming you from the inside out yet you lay there and take it. That is what makes you special love" he says looking down at me with an expression that is somehow readable but not at the same time.

"You're disgusting" I say and stand up to leave but he places a hand on my shoulder and my body moves to sit back down without any resistance. "You call me disgusting yet with just a touch you're already giving into me" says with a cocky smile.

"You're just as disgraceful if not more for letting me do this to you" he says while cradling my face again and running his thumb along my bottom lip, somehow with that simple motion and his heated gaze he's put me in a trance.

He tugs on my bottom lip softly making me open my mouth as he slowly inserts his thumbs and pressed it on my tongue leaving me on impulse suckling on it and watching as his eye darken, full of pure lust.

I'm broken out of the headspace that he is always able to get me in so easily when I hear my son crying. I bite on his thumb a bit leaving him pulling it out of my mouth, giving me a chance to leave. "The nanny will tend to him" he says not even bothering to turn and watch me as I go.

"I don't care, I want to go take care of my son " I say and he turns around after that with his phone facing me, showing me my husband's contact information. "Just one call love and your entire world crumbles. Now run off and go take care of our son, we can continue this conversation later" he finishes and turns his back to me. 

I'm doing this so I can save my husband from the heartbreak of knowing that our marriage and the family that we've built together is all a lie. So if that means entertaining his father to keep this a secret then I'll do it. I could never bare seeing the pain I've caused him come to life as I already have two living reminders with me everyday. 

I've backed myself into a corner, and there really is no one else to blame but myself. Jungkook might've pressured me into this but the choice was ultimately mine, and I chose wrong.  

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#fanfic #kpop #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook and reader #jungkook and you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook yandere #tw yandere #ask #do it for him

[moonsorchid]

Rewatching ep.28 of Love Between Fairy and Devil and having some *cough* strong emotions

Part 1 (because I have a lot to talk about)

(spoilers ahead)

Um, what does that butterfly do to Shangque?

Shangque, baby, no, no, no, no, don't do this to yourself

I can never get tired of Canglan sea visuals

So Jieli has to keep taking an antidote every three days? I had totally forgotten about that. I try to find reasons to justify Ronghao’s actions – apart from him being a total snack – and I am sorry but I fail

Oh, my baby is at the bridge. She is so happy! I was so happy too when I first watched this scene. If only I knew

Look how happy he is too! He is finally smiling naturally. So excited that he will meet Xiao Lanhua at the bridge

But hey, will his brother let him be happy? Noooooooo. Little brat

Btw, if I was Dongfang Qingcang and people were outside my palace messing with my personal life, I wouldn’t have kept my cool

This whole scene of people asking him to kill Xiao Lanhua, is causing me nausea, and I wish I was kidding

But I have to pause and admire DFQC’s costume and the light. He looks majestic and there has never been a scene where he looks more a King than this one – I think

For a moment there I thought he was going to burn them all and I got excited. But he just used like one of the last three remaining blasts of hellfire to half destroy a pillar

Xunfeng, seriously, please get a hobby, do something else with your life other than trying to ruin your brother’s life – yes, I am angry, very angry

DFQC is way calmer than I could ever be. He explains eloquently why Xiao Lanhua is the best and how he has helped him. He has come such a long way

I hate though that the kingdom learns first that he loves her and wants to marry her before she does

Awwwweeee, he wanted to prepare the greatest wedding for her. Now I am sad. We never got to see that wedding. Petition for a season 2 to see the wedding

Question: DFQC realized in Lucheng that Xiao Lanhua is the goddess of Xishan. Why doesn’t he reveal this information now to stop them from b*tching about her being a fairy?

Xiao Lanhua is waiting at the bridge

Awwwwe

Oh now, you are all “Please think twice” and you act like you care for your brother. You exhaust me, Xunfeng

Xiao Lanhua is still waiting and it’s night now

Oh no, not the scene with the spikes. Not my baby. I am not emotionally ready. Nooooooooo

I had not prepared any tissues – I am keeping them for ep. 31 – but I feel like I will need them. Damn, it's so much harder to watch this scene for the second time. I don’t want anyone hurting them, I can’t!

And they keep on hitting the spike over and over and over again. *trying not to cry*

Xiao Lanhua is still waiting. I mean they could have done that with the spikes the next day. Let them have a romantic night for crying out loud

Aaaawe, he arrived. My heart.

This should have been the most romantic scene of the show, not one of the most heartbreaking scenes *pouting*

Their first kiss as a couple *melting*

Love how she pulls away and he still wants to kiss. Not sure if that was in the script *wink wink*

Why did her bracelet do that sparkle thingy? What did that mean? Why now?

Poor DFQC and poor Xiao Lanhua

I hadn’t realized on my first watch that he created thunder. So, Xiao Lanhua knew exactly how he felt

He went through all this excruciating pain and he still thinks of keeping her warm

Awe the marriage proposal. Finally something cheerful. I love that he had planned to have the proposal the day after they would hang the locks at the bridge. Who knew he would be so romantic *heart shaped eyes*

Xiao Lanhua is all like I don’t care about the treasures and stuff, but look, I made you this grass bracelet, will you marry me? She always has a way to subvert his expectations, right?

Oh come on, Xunfeng, let them kiss! I wanted to end this part on a good note, but you just had to show up like a fart during a date

Stopping here and pretending Xunfeng never happened. They just got engaged, grass bracelet and all, they are happy and ready to kiss.

Part 2 coming soonish (depending on my blood pressure I guess)

#i apologize about the language and the ranting #i am usually polite and kind and a lady #but not when i watch this show #it has my emotions running wild #it's just a show #i keep reminding myself #however don't let this fool you #i adore every second of it hehe #exactly because it evokes such strong emotion #love between fairy and devil #lbfad #rewatching #mine #orchid's reactions

[sunofpandora]

Virago: Chapter 3 part 2

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father, deceased, a warrior and hunter of the 

omaticaya clan. A teacher to young warriors undergoing iknimaya.

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother, a strong hunter and the best singer in the omaticaya clan, and a teacher to young hunters.

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

Popiti-(tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

(Also idk how many of you know this but Jake’s ikran’s name is canonically ‘Bob’.)

(WARNINGS!

Sharing a sleeping hammock with the opposite gender (non-romantically)-

Neytiri hating on spider/ mentions of insecurities, heartbreak, war,/ fluff/ angst/ mentions of hunting, killing animals, mentions of therapy, military, ptsd, romance, pining, use of military terms/codewords/  Let me know if I missed anything.

Authors note:

This is part two of the chapter 3 trilogy. ‘Aim your arrow at his heart as he holds it out for you to ruin.’ I wonder what happens next?

                                                                   V I R A G O         

Chapter 3;

Aim your arrow at his heart as he holds it out for you to ruin.

Part 2

Y/n’s pov-

Word count: 28k (split)

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Y/n’s pov (still hunting with jake)

“Killer shot, kiddo. Two for one.”

Jake chuckles as he ruffles your hair, carrying the yerik meat in the sack thrown over his shoulder.

Before he can pull his hand away, it gets caught on one of the stray hairs in your braids. You wince, squeezing your eyes shut. You were always a bit tenderheaded.

“Ow-”

“Oh shit. Hold on, kid.”

Jake quickly untangles his bracelet with your hair, smoothing down your braids for good measure.

He chuckles as you keep walking, matching his pace.

“Sorry about that, kiddo.” You shrug, your eyes now focusing on the culprit that laid on Jake’s wrist.

Its a bracelet, but not like any kind you’ve seen before.

It was woven with a leather string that looks like it was falling apart at the seams, and the small, braided fronds that held some sharp looking crystal chips. Worthy of impaling someone. Especially the extra long, jagged, one that stuck out on the left side of his wrist.

You weren’t at the thought of just wearing something like that the thought of the poking and pushing of the sharp edges into your skin, almost seemed unimaginable. 

You would think, after being in his life for the last 18 years, you’d by now have a complete understanding of the inner workings of Jake Sully. 

That would include his wardrobe choices. 

To your knowledge, Jake didn’t usually wear some thing unless it had a functional purpose. So why on pandora would he wear this death trap on his wrist?

“Where did you get that?” you ask, attempting to make your burning curiosity not sound interrogating.

Jake Glances down at his wrist before looking at you.

“ oh, this? Tuk gave it to me. Just a few days ago.”

Well that explains it.

It slips out of your mouth before you can actually stop yourself. One thing about you that not many knew is that you were quite impulsive at times. It’s faded throughout the years. Disappearing under where age drew some extra lines and scars on your skin. But mostly? You got better at hiding it.

“That looks painful.”

You slap yourself mentally before you can even apologize, Jake laughs.

“It is, but I promised her I wouldn’t take it off.”

You figured, and you admire that about Jake. His ability to keep his promises.

Being a dad meant sacrifices. Alas, what kind of love didn’t?

You don’t think it’s a real love unless it has you scrambling to reach your redemption. 

Love is envious of the granted calmed magnitude of simple pleasures.

You hopped over a rock as you kept pace with Jake.

“Well, you aren’t the only one wearing Tuks threads.”

You show off your wrist and the bracelet Tuk made for you, when you first moved in the high camp, and started living with the sully family.

The patterns clearly juvenile, evident in the mismatched colors and diversely shaped beads. Vibrant and loud.

Jake feigns a scoff, a smug smile drawing it’s place on his lips.

“Oh, I think I win this time. I have her latest piece.”

He mocked your movements, showing off his own wrist as he placed the sack on the ground next to him, retiring to sit on a ledge as he refilled his water flask by the small creek. The sounds of water trickling down the stream make your wears twitch with the familiar symphony.

You take a seat next to him, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t think you’re special. the poor child is probably just taking pity on you. A mighty war hero, such as yourself should be given newer things to make up for his old age.”

Jake splashes water on you, and you lean back into the tree. Your laughter refreshes the air, disrupting the once quiet aura.

Jake can’t help but crack a smile. He fidgets with the monstrosity of a thing. It truly was painful to wear. The way it poked and prodded at his skin he even had a small cut on the back of his hand from where the extra large crystalline bead had abnormally stuck out of its place. 

He looks back at the sky as your laughter dies down the air, regaining its quiet wholesomeness.

“one of the things I love most about the Navi, is their appreciation for one another.”

You blindly scooted forward. Your peaked interest is now obvious. Thrashing like a freshly hunted fish in the hollower corridors of your brain.

The blazing white raw rays of the sunlight now hued itself a muted golden through the canopy of the rainforest, as the cerulean of the sky darkened ever so slightly with the fast approaching afternoon.

 “Back on earth, humans don’t wear jewelry made by their children. Hell, they don’t care much about things like that at all.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, before speaking once again.

“What were your parents like?”

Jake’s eyes widen a bit, as his gaze focuses on you.

Something or someone made of old memories and coppered flesh awakens in Jake.

Ruins of something, perhaps someone crippled and crinkled in the cramped corners of Jake’s mind.

Like the skin of a shadow. A story with a silenced narration. Transparency and uncertainty.

Jake Sully sometimes swore he saw ghosts.

It kept him up at night.

The lingering smells of smoke and ash, blood and sweat, the once radiant green of the short plains surrounding hometree withered in a gray dressing gown of grief.

Before he learned to see.

He grasped the essence of life: the  immunology of pandora. The power, the secret to growth, a true appreciation for the relative importance of things, order, and balance. For Jake, time was dwelling itself on a melting clock. Things change when your sent light years away from your home planet. You realize you're living the very days your younger self once dreamed of, or you're still waiting for that fabled, future time.

Not too late to forget the sins of his past.

Some say ‘to sin is to be a human’

Well. I guess that doesn’t really apply to poor Jake. Does it now?

With the corpse of a culture now forgotten, the fallen hometree rots.

Jake prayed to eywa his memories could rot with it.

Ghosts aren’t real. Are they? 

If they are, they certainly aren’t a figure under a white sheet that make spooky noises and only appears on Halloween, no. 

Ghosts are lingering souls who cling to the youth of their nostalgic memories.

Ghosts don’t belong in the light because they can reminisce in the past far easier in the darkness. 

Ghosts don’t like the day time. 

The daytime is filled with the vexatious luminescence we call sunlight. 

Sunlight provides close to no sanctuary from the world.

No shadows are cast, no contingent comfort in the darkness.

The stars that scatter across the sky carry memories.

The rain travels throughout the dreary dark skies. Scorched with mist.

Jake still wakes up in a cold sweat, after memories of hometree’s destruction haunts his dreams. He could still hear Mo’at’s low wails ring in his ears, Grace cursing under her breath as each breath drew out like a shaky pencil line drawn on a concrete surface.

Besides seeing them, Jake might as well have been a ghost.

A shell of something he once was.

Jake swallows before leaning back a bit more.

“I don’t remember much about them.

My father’s name is Damin. My mother’s name is Camille.”

You nodded. trying to visualize a human family. Ones who walked, talked, breathed and looked like spider.

“Didn’t you have a brother?”

Jake nodded.

“Thomas. Well, we called him Tommy.”

You leaned back with him. Taking a swig out of the water flask he offered you.

“You’re younger sibling. Just like me.”

Jake nodded, raising his flask in a celebratory manner.

“Cheers to that.”

You gazed up at the trees, your fingers tracing the patterns in the foliage above.each leaf, each ray of light that slithered past the cracks in the quilted hues of green.

“Do you ever miss him?”

It comes out as a whisper. it’s soft spoken.

There’s a displaced sense of comfort that swallows Jake. Like a sheen of a cold Summer Sun encompassed the air.

“Sometimes I think I see him. When I see Neteyam, and Lo’ak.”

Brothers are interesting creatures.

Like a plant forever tangled at the roots. Siblings can be soulmates. Not the romantic kind.

Someone to forever reminisce in ‘remember when’ stories and sun bursting fresh patches of grass, trampled by a children’s feet.

Invisible strings unsevered. 

“Guess I’ll always carry a piece of him with me.”

Jake awkwardly chuckles as he gestures to his body. The body that was meant for his brother.

“Seems to be a common theme with you.” You reiterate. Gesturing to Jake’s uncomfortable bracelet.

He nods, pointing to his beaded leather necklace. Much neater than Tuk’s handiwork.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jake take it off. Ever since you were a child.

You knew the small green beads were from when Jake was training for his Iknimiya, gifted to him by Neytiri.

You couldn’t help but think how sweet it was that he wore some thing of hers. Even after all these years, the beads must’ve been worn out, lost a bit of shape. And yet, he wore them with pride.

You start to remember kiri’s words from earlier. How she said you reminded her of the stories she would hear about her adopted mother in her youth. The stories of her bravery. Her courage, her defiance, her days of battle and heroism during the war.

You had always idolized Neytiri. When you were a small child, your favorite stories were the ones of her, your mother, and Sylwanin causing trouble around the clan’s hometree as a child. Your mother told you that you were just like Neytiri during her childhood. Always the wild child who came back from playing with sticks in your hair and mud on your elbows.

It wasn’t just her rebelliousness you mirrored, apparently.

She carried herself with constant bouts of compassion. For her people, her home, the forest. She was made of a fire that could never truly be extinguished. 

Violence was never a delight, but for you and neytiri, it was a familiar sentiment. The substances of your souls were intertwined with grief-ridden impulses that were strengthened by agony.

War was no excuse for turning people into weapons. But in all it’s horror and fire hazard, something as beautiful as you was forged from the flames.

You and neytiri were stories woven by the same threads. Both of you Losing the people you love most, then seeking vengeance with no bounds.

“What was she like?”

You whisper, leaning towards Jake a bit more.

“Neytiri. What was she like when she was younger?”

Jake scoffed. Putting his hands to rest behind his head, his elbows stretched on either side of his head.

“Oh boy. Where do I start, kiddo?”

You shrugged, getting comfortable in your spot.

“Wherever you see best.”

He thought for a moment.

“What was your very first impression of her?”

You prompted.

Jake was silent before blinking.

“Uh….oh.

Intimidating.”

Your face went blank. Expecting something similar to a story or a thousand words of her beauty and strength.

“Really? That’s it?”

Jake shrugged.

“For lack of a better word. Yes, she was intimidating. She scared the shit out of me.”

You huffed. Crossing your arms.

“C’mon. I want the details.”

He chuckled.

“Well, she made quite the impression. she tried to kill me.”

  You raised an eyebrow.

“And that was attractive?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

You thought of a younger neytiri. Trying to place yourself in the shadow of a once looming star.

Jake cleared his throat, speaking again.

“You know, I think I really found out what love meant when I met her.”

His words sink in for a moment. An unfamiliar shudder that’s not quite discomforting travels up your spine.

“How so?”

You ask. Jake thinks for a moment.

“I never wanted kids back on earth. I never wanted a wife, or a white picket fence life.

Well, I did at one point. Then I met war. And war wasn’t friendly. Because war showed me that some people fall in love, get hitched, have kids, and fight to protect for the people they love when they end up dying in a war anyways. And somewhere on the other end of that spectrum is an enemy staring at you through the scope of his sniper. And when he kills you, he kills a father, or a mother, or a sister or a brother. And then it just repeats.”

War was no unfamiliarity. War made you who you were now.

And you didn’t like who you were now. Something trapped in a shell of a static shade of white. Convulsing with hunger. Thrashing with anger and agitation.

The worst thing about war is that once you live through it, you never really live past it. You can survive war. That doesn’t mean the war ends. All your potential was bred from destruction and the absence of stability in your life. Everything being ripped away burned or killed. You start to purge yourself with thoughts of violence that is sickeningly soothing. Gutted in the lament light of a scorching moonlight, forever aching for the tethered tenderness of the sun.

“No one wins in a war.”

You mutter, leaning back, your head resting on Jake’s forearm.

He nods, patting the side of your waist.

“A was a marine. A dumb grunt who thought the na’vi were just talking to trees and praying their own damn brain cells away.”

You fidgeted with your bracelet, and stared up at the clouds,

Jake spoke again.

“Your a warrior. I’m a soldier. But we both have blood on our hands.”

You stared at your palms. Much smaller, slimmer, lithe hands compared to Jake. Yet, scars still littered your skin.

“I don’t see it. The blood.”

You whispered.

Jake gently rubbed your back.

“Sometimes it doesn’t what to be seen.”

You blink up at him. Gazing at the taller man.

“I thought love was my greatest enemy. Because I was afraid I saw too much shit to love anyone properly. Why do that to them? Why waste their time?”

That hit harder than you wanted it too.

Love was your greatest weakness.

But was it, really?

War had made you unloveable. Because you watched people love each other only to loose one another in war.

Because you loved before a war, and he weakened you.

And then he stopped loving you before the war, and that weakened you.

Because your parents died when the war returned, and that weakened you.

And weakened, afraid, angry, broken, and sprawled and stretched bones far too thin to be soothed. Cussing, growling, a primal cry of violence and grief with shocking fluidity.

Unclenched and hinged on arrowheads and bowstrings.

You found yourself unloveable.

Because who would ever love something broken?

Something made of stone?

Unclenched and hinged on arrowheads and bowstrings 

Jake chuckled to himself his eyes fluttering shut. It’s not a happy sound. It’s hollow and thin. 

But there’s a small sliver of silvered-sunlight under the heavy hued grey.

“ I will never forget. One day we were training, she was making me practice my archery targets. The clan was out and about, doing their chores, weaving foraging all that jazz.

She was giving me instructions, and then suddenly her voice just…Trailed off. I looked where she was staring and her eyes were locked on these two little girls. Two sisters playing in the Stream chasing each other, laughing and splashing and wrestling around.

And for the first time ever, I saw this…this woman..

This beautiful, blue, powerful, stoic- alien of a woman who I thought was just..perfection in every single aspect of the word, looked so…

Fragile.”

It’s the last word you would ever use to describe Neytiri. But when he utters it, a certain string of a an unfamiliar note melodically tugs in place of your heart you didn’t know existed.

“Fragile?”

The words come out soft and surreal, hoarse as you whisper it.

“Like, the entire time I had known her, she had been wearing this…mask. A disguise. And when she looked at those little girls…the mask fell.”

He continued without an ounce of hesitance.

“And I realized that this woman was once a girl. A child. A child who had been through war and war was the one who forced that mask on her in the first place. Really, she wanted to protect what she had left before anyone dared to take it away. That beneath all that anger and resentment was someone who was shy, and laughed loudly and deep down beneath her confidence and attitude she was still that child, really just a girl who missed her older sister. Her favorite smell is rain and she especially loves it when you can see the small cracks of sunlight through the trees, and she had this game with her sister where they would see who could walk the farthest in the forest by only stepping into the patches of light. She loves it when the flowers bloom a shade of yellow, and she’s kinda insecure about herself sometimes and fuck I really don’t know how she could ever be, she’s just so perfect-“

Jake stops himself, realizing he’s rambling, a moment of silence goes by and he rubs the back of his head..

“I guess it’s that I always thought war made me so ugly. And that no one could love me romantically. And then I met her, and she had lived through something so terrible and traumatic, and even after the war she was beautiful and worth loving..maybe I was worth loving too.”

It was more than you ever bargained for. War didn’t always ruin. Sometimes it rearranged.

Somewhere in Jake you saw someone else. Someone besides yourself. Burdened by war and suffering.

You saw a man. A man who loved a woman so much he gave up everything he ever knew to be with her.

Something erased into nothingness and replaced by shifting shadows embedded in an unfamiliar idealism that frightened you because it didn’t feel safe.

Eternally devastating. A tormented romance of a man who holds a woman by the hips and trails a line of grievances on her skin with his lips while she holds a knife to his throat.

A woman who only held that knife because she had seen so many things shaded in a blood stained red, any other color seemed unfamiliar to her.

A woman who abuses herself by endlessly denying herself any ounce of affection because she believes with her whole heart she will never be worthy of his love. Even more so, because she was afraid of it.

Or worse, she’ll ruin it.

Afraid of how badly his touch stung her the first time to ever love again.

Afraid loving because what good was love if war would just take it away from her?

Bred to fight.

Born to protect everyone but herself.

But it’s never satisfied. Is it? The thoughts that thirsted the back of her mind. Thoughts of him. 

Fears. Thoughts. Lust. Love.

This wall around you was a survival mechanism.

To protect others from coming in. To protect yourself from coming out. From loving again.

In this story you saw a man who unraveled every shade of rarely rested red that sensed her suffering and entrapped her in this self loathing pattern.

You saw a man that said he loved her even as she threatened to end his life.

Because he knows the only reason she would end his life is because she feared he would end hers first.

Not by killing her. By worshipping her every breath. By begging her to love herself the way he does. And what happens then? When she loves herself? 

Who will judge her? Who will keep her in line? Who will call out her every hitched breath? Her every fumble and stutter? Who does it better than her?

What will she be if she loves herself? His? No. No she belongs to herself and her own loathing.

But would her fire refuse its reign of radiance in the confined cage of his love?

Maybe some enemies are only enemies because one of them thinks that they’re enemies.

Maybe lovers are only lovers because love is a sacrificial abstraction.

You could never find love if you never knew loss.

All of this was really just a coincidence of meaningless metaphors that cluttered your brain but why did you keep coming back to thinking about that man.

That man who was one his knees for you. That man who said the same thing over and over as you held a knife to his throat.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Why? Why does he love you? What is there to love?

Deprivation, burdened accountability, self hatred and inadequacy, all of deaths favored methods.

You turn to Jake, detaching your thoughts for a moment.

“How did she ever forgive you? For how you hurt her?”

Your words are rushed and spoken in a hitch of a breath.

Jake shakes his head, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, can I give you some cold, hard truth?”

You nod.

He speaks softly.

“Love ain’t easy. It’s not real love unless you fight for it. And sometimes loving someone who feels unloved and broken isn’t easy. Its especially not easy when you screwed up so badly you lost their trust once. Because trust is a fragile thing.

It’s delicate. And once someone gives it to you, you never, ever do a damn thing to harm it.

But we’re flawed creatures sometimes.

We make mistakes that sometimes seem unforgivable, and walls are built to keep us out.

But you wanna know a secret?”

You nod, waiting.

“Loving someone who feels like no one could ever love them takes time. And protecting someone who protects everyone but themselves isn’t easy.

Sometimes it’s all about letting them climb your walls until you decide it’s safe again.”

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Neteyam’s Pov:

Lo’ak is stacking up the now empty baskets to the side corner, while placing his and spider’s finished arrows for y/n in a new basket.

Spider went home a few hours ago, and y/n and my father have not returned yet.

Tuk jumps up and down twice, tugging on my arm, a slight whine in her voice.

“Where’s mom?”

“She’s in the hut with Grandmother, she will return soon.”

I try to gently push her to the other side of the tent.

“Go play with your toys. Or, go have Lo’ak sharpen your knife. It’s probably in need of it anyways.”

Lo’ak shoots me a glare. Clearly not very pleased with the fact that I’m putting him on babysitting duty for once.

Tuck grabs her hexapede toy y/n had carved for her a few months back, shoving the infamous Toruk toy in Lo’aks hands.

That old toy has seen better days, I’ll be honest.

“Here Lo’ak. You be the Toruk.”

She huffs, still not very satisfied with her lack of people to play with at the moment.

“No way. Go play with Neteyam.”

Lo’ak swats Tuk away, glaring at me.

I glare back, gesturing to the new basket I was busy weaving.

“I’m busy right now. C’mon Lo’ak just play a quick game with her. Kiri will return soon.”

Lo’ak rolls his eyes before turning to Tuk.

“How about a story time?”

Tuk clap’s excitedly and jumps up once. 

“Yes please!”

Lo’ak clears his throat, crossing his legs.

“Did you know, that looong before your time, mom found you in an egg in a nest and stole you from a bird?”

“Lo’ak! Don’t tell her that!”

 Tuk gasps, a whimper that’s barely audible following the sound.

I smack Lo’ak on the back of his head.

“Mama did not find me in a nest!”

“Uh yeah. She actually did.”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did NOT!”

Lo’ak shrugs, casually checking his nails and shifting on his feet.

“Oh yeah? Where do you think mom and dad found Kiri?”

Tuk crosse her smaller arms, 

“From Grace Aju-Ages-Agun-Agis-“

“Augustine.”   

I pat her back, correcting her gently.

She nods, proud of herself for trying.

Lo’ak shakes his head.

“Nope. Mom found you in a nest and she found Kiri too. 

And, 7 years ago you came out of the woods, and they’ve been trying to domesticate you ever since.”

It’s a moment later when a familiar presence enters the ensuing chaos between the two youngest of my siblings. 

“Grandmother!”

Tuk runs to our grandmother, who stands wearing her usual beaded red and yellow shawl that drapes over her elbows and falls to her waist, the long detailed interweaved maroon colored loincloth falling to her shins.

She embraces Tuktirey, patting her on the head with her other hand gently placed on her back.

I’ve always had a close relationship with my grandmother.

I am her first born grandson. The first child she watched her daughter love.

When I was small, I loved watching my grandmother work in the Tsahik tent while I sat with her, eagerly listening to her stories.

I loved my parents' stories of moving forward with our clans pain, and the moral compass they provided. 

But truth be told, I always preferred older stories. The ones my grandmother told me, quietly as she worked.

Times before the humans interacted with our clan. Stories of the powerful past generations of olo’eyktans before my father and grandfather, stories of hometree before it’s annihilation. Stories of great na’vi warriors and ancient battlements.

My grandmother and I had one, very particular trait in common.

We loved gossip every now and then, alas very shamefully.

It’s frowned upon for respectable clan leaders to partake in such things indistinguishable to gossip and rumors that flutter around the clan on feather-like whispers.

It’s easier to hide something when you hide it with someone.

Every now and then I get ‘scraped up’ on one of my hunts. Usually an arm or a skinned knee, and I end up having to visit the Tsahik of our clan, and I may or may not take the time to exchange little fragments of ‘scandals’ that I hear around, sometimes even in other clans.

Is it a good habit? No.

But my grandmother often finds ways to make up for the both of us. Everyone needs to indulge a bit once in a full moon.

“Grandmother, Lo’ak told me mama found me in a nest!”

My grandmother gasps dramatically.

“Lo’ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan! You know better than that.”

The whole tent is silent for a moment, all except for the gentle thuds of Turk’s tail flicking against the ground triumphantly as she sticks her tongue out at Lo’ak, and the ever so quiet mumble of ‘snitch’ leaving Lo’aks lips, until my grandmother speaks.

“You know we were saving the news for when she turns 12.”

Lo’ak rolls on the ground laughing and Tuk races out of the tent, screaming for our mother in distress.

Lo’ak stumbles over to our grandmother, swinging an arm around her, slightly off balance due to all of his laughing.

“Eywa, grams. Did I mention that your my favorite grandmother.”

“I am your only grandmother, boy.”

“And you’re still my favorite.”

Mo’at swats him away and hands him the basket on her hip of freshly grinded herbs for him to tend to.

“Put this in the back, on your mother’s spread of salves for me.”

Lo’ak nods, still snickering to himself, taking the basket and quickly turning to complete her request. 

She stretched out her arms, getting ready to sit down, a small wince appearing on her face.

“nìktungzup, (careful) grandmother, let me help you.”

I gently hold her arm, assisting her to sit cross legged on the ground.

She scoffs. 

“I do not need assistance. I survived raising your mother.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, and she eventually thanks me. 

My mother enters shortly after, carrying a distressed Tuk in her arms.

“Lo’ak. Did you tell your sister she came from an egg?”

Lo’ak shakes his head, shrugging.

“No. I told her you found her in a nest.”

My ears perk flicker when I notice Kiri emerging from behind my mother, tucking under the tent flap wearing a blank expression. 

My mother places Tuk down, who jogs over to my grandmother. Mother then freezes for a moment, sniffing the air, her tail flicking.

“Lo’ak-

Did you bring that sky demon in the marui!?”

“He was helping me make arrows for y/n’s hut tonight!”

Lo’ak throws his hands up in defense, still evading my mother’s mercy.

“For eywa’s sake! Have you no respect for the rules I have in place!?”

She hisses in annoyance, and as the bickering starts to simmer into background noise, I find myself watching Kiri. The one I’ve been looking for all day.

She clears her throat, shifting on her feet.

“I’m gonna go for a walk..”

She trails off, her eyes flickering between Lo’ak and my mother, neither of them sparing her even a blink of attention.

Grandmother calls for her, but she’s already escaped out of view from any of us.

As she walks away, I see my opportunity to speak to her about y/n’s words last night trail behind her.

My grandmother looks up from where her and Tuk sat, her eyes following where Kiri once stood.

She sighs.

“Neteyam. Can you accompany her please-“

She doesn’t even finish before I grab my knife off the small table and jog after Kiri. 

 Kiri turns a few corners, weaving around the now settling down high camp as sunset teased its way onto the forest of Pandora. Unleashing its blanket of warmth and violent colors with its army of clouds and weapons forged from a painted sky attacked the world above. The warm afternoon set onto my shoulders as I skipped over a few rocks unevenly coating the ground of the stronghold. The light cowers just shy of the tops of the mountains as I follow her outside, onto on of the small outstretches of a grassy valley, side by side with the back of high camp’s inner cave.

With the noise and exerted liveliness now sinking into the mere substratosphere of my senses, my attention is now on Kiri.

She finally takes notice of my presence, turning around to face me.

Her eyebrow raised as she stared at me, a bit puzzled.

I clear my throat.

“Mind if I join you?”

She shrugs,

“Not at all.”

Kiri gently brushes her fingertips across the petals of some stemless flowers, peaking through the vines that now forged themselves to grow on a natural stone boulder. 

Watching Kiri interact with the world around her was fascinating.

Sometimes she touched the plants so gently, so attentively and fragile as if they were speaking to her, and she never dared to interrupt.

I shifted on my feet, trying to figure out a way to start this conversation that was probably not going to end in my favor.

She notices the flick of my tail, side glancing at me before turning her back towards me. I smile sheepishly.

“Is that a new anklet? It’s beautifully-“

“What do you want, Neteyam?”

I frown when she catches onto me faster than I predicted.

“I’m just complimenting you. I compliment all my siblings.”

She gave me a blank stare, clearly unimpressed.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

I sigh, leaning on the boulder closest to me.

“Okay, I give up.”

Kiri scoffs.

“Before you’ve even tried? That’s not very mighty warrior behavior.”

She rubs my shoulder playfully, now stepping forward to occupy the place next to me.

“C’mon. You can talk to me.”

I’m quiet for a moment, as I finally make eye contact.

“It’s about Y/n.”

Kiri stiffens for a moment. Something invisible taking the shape of armor climbing her skin. Some urge to keep your heart out of reach from me, I assume.

She internally mediates on my words for a moment before groaning softly.

“Neteyam. I’m not speaking to you about this-“

She starts to walk away, before she’s stop at my almost frantic movements.

“Wait- please. Kiri. You’re the only one I can speak to. It’s been killing me inside all damn day.”

She takes a breath before turning around, facing me once again.

“Okay. Fine. But don’t waste me time. On with it, then.”

She gestures for me to talk. it’s very rare occasion that I talk before I even register the words leaving my mouth. Maybe it’s because I’m panicking.

“I heard you and Y/n speak last night-“

She cuts me off right there. A hand smacking my chest as her eyes widened.

“You. Did. What?”

I gulp, looking down.

“Kiri, listen please.”

“Eywa begone with this bullshit-! You stalker! What are you, watching her now while she sleeps!?”

I wave my hands around to try and regain the more rationalized attention.

“No! I’m not stalking her. Just listen, please-“

There’s a rather common misconception that Kiri doesn’t take after either of my parents simply because she was not born of either my mother or my fathers love. But damn, if she didn’t have my mother's protectiveness.

She crossed her arms, glaring up at me.

“I’m not letting you hurt her again, Neteyam”

I wince, taking a step back.

“Kiri, please. Just listen. I want to fix things-

No. I want to fix everything. I’ve been hating myself for what I’ve done to her. I don’t deserve anything less than everything you are saying to me right now, I know better than anyone. I never, ever meant to hurt her..”

Kiri paused for a moment. Her eyes softened ever so slightly as I mentioned how much self-loathing this has inflicted on me.

She sighed, rubbing her palms down her face.

“Then what happened, exactly. Because the way I saw it, you acted as if she didn’t exist for months and then all the sudden her parents die and you feel bad about it.”

I shook my head, my shoulders slumping as I defeatedly sat down on a rock.

She hesitantly sat next to me, her voice softer now. Absent of the anger she once expressed.

“What happened, Neteyam?”

I sigh, thinking about where to begin.

“I loved her. I loved her so much, Kiri. I still do. My entire world has been spiraling around with her as its center. It swallowed me whole, it drowned me-“

I paused, gazing up at the now darkening sky.

“I was 15. I was stupid, afraid, and anxious.

Because for my entire life everything has always been one step ahead of me. I’ve known what to say, how to act, how to think, how to feel..when to sit, stand, talk, stay silent..

when I was with her, nothing was foreseeable. It felt almost destructive and unfamiliar…not having control of something when you feel like your entire existence has been under control just the same.”

Kiri looks at me with an emotion I can’t quite place. A distant memory that decomposed under external complexities.

“I was afraid. Afraid of what she would do to me, to my heart, to the heart of the future olo’eyktan of this clan. What If the son of Toruk Makto could do everything when it came to training, preparing, learning and studying the ways of being a leader, but couldn’t keep his mate happy? I can’t live with that, Kiri.

More importantly, why would I make her live like that?”

There’s a silence that draws between us. Neither of us speak. 

Sometimes redemption is just a false hope. The spectacle of contemplating interchangeable acts of the past is a waste of time.

Emptiness, ecstasy, addiction, love, it all falls under a hollow shell of someone you hate. Someone you used to be.

Finally, Kiri speaks.

“You’re a stupid, Stupid man, Neteyam. And I’m probably even more stupid for trusting you to try again.”

My tail flicks, my ears upturn towards her, my entire face falling for a moment in pure shock.

I go to speak, but she cuts me off.

“You cannot start all that romance shit with her again. Our family can’t afford another one of your little spiels. It’s not about just you and her anymore. She’s dad’s right hand woman. His best student. Definitely better than the other warriors I’ve seen and that includes you. I won’t let you take that away from her. She has a future in this clan. But it’s not in your bed.”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to openly be in love with Y/n. 

But I am no stranger to sacrifices.

Love is nothing without sacrifice. My mother’s words spoke the truth. Love is sometimes loud, impatient and hungry. Thrashing with convulsion. 

The sun disappears every night so the moon can thrive in the darkness.

I would forget my entire existence If it was convenient for her.

I sacrificed for my parents. For my brother. For my sisters. For my home. For my morals. For my wants. My desires. My pain and my happiness.

There is always an atonement of sacrifice.

I shake my head.

“It wasn’t about that, Kiri. I just don’t us bad terms anymore. She’s like a sister to you, Lo’ak, and Tuk. She’s apart of our home now too.”

She nods, staring off for a moment.

“What about Lo’ak? 

I shake my head.

“I’m not going to court Y/n. I just want her back in my life, normal again.”

She pays my back, standing to her feet once again.

“You have my blessing. And my advice if you need it for later.”

I can’t help it when I hug her, so tightly her feet hover above the ground for a moment.

“Ugh! Neteyam! You’re getting your male germs all over me!”

Kiri huffs when I finally put her down.

”you’re my favorite sibling, you know that, sis?”

She waves me off, and I can’t help but laugh at this new warmth that blooms in my chest at having another chance.

Before I start walking back to highcamp, I’m grabbed roughly by my armband by my sister once again, her voice dark and low as she speaks.

“If you fuck this up, so help me Eywa-

If you so much as become the cause for her even dropping a smile, I will make dad summon Toruk again just so I can feed it your remains and than wear you as a new shawl. Are we understood?”

I nod, before hurriedly running back to camp as we both hear the horn, alerting my father and Y/n have arrived.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

authors note:

I hate tumblr. But hopefully the chapter 3 trilogy will post smoothly.

taglist:

Taglist

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

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@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

#avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #jake avatar #neytiri #neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar fanfiction #neteyam x you #kiri sully #lo’ak x reader

[smytherines]

Overly long staircase scene acting analysis because I'm autistic

Watched the staircase scene again, because this is my life now. But I just cannot get over how incredible Joey Richter is in this scene. Every beat is absolutely heartbreaking. The anger and hurt in his voice as he yells "I'm going to single-handedly dismantle everything you've ever believed in," the way his voice breaks.

During the reprise he does a stunning job of "guy trying to be cold and intimidating but is actually incredibly sad and unbelievably angry." The way Owen says "a world without agencies, a world without spies, a world without secrets" with so much quiet contempt for the thing that ruined his life.

Maybe the best piece of acting in the entire show is when Curt steps up into Owen's gun and says "the feelings we had for each other." And Owen looks pained, he looks wistful for a second. His gun lowers to Curt's heart and his hand repositions like he's really struggling with what he believes he has to do. The thing he's been wanting to do for four years. But he just can't manage to pull the trigger, despite having ample opportunity to do so.

When Curt finally shoots his gun out of his hand and aims the gun at his head, the way Joey Richter plays Owen just feels incredibly sad. To me it reads as Owen, not being able to kill Curt, thinking Curt wouldn't be able to kill him either, and realizing too late that he was wrong about that. There's a kind of incredulous disappointment in his voice as he says "so what are you doing?"

I know I get ridiculous with my Owen Carvour headcanon, but this one scene just gives SO much insight into his character and motivations, without outright telling you pretty much anything. That's partially clever writing, but its also just Joey Richter absolutely killing this role, making Owen feel like a real person with real anguish and doubt and anger. Its spectacular.

And it's wild because Curt Mega is also really fucking good in this scene, but kind of in different ways? His delivery doesn't subvert what we know about Agent Mega, it reinforces it. Curt has been grieving for four years. He fell apart after Owen's "death," his alcohol use turning into a full-on disorder, making him incapable of doing the one thing he loves, the thing he feels he does best. And actor Curt Mega does an incredible job at conveying all of that without even saying a word. Curt's stance, the way he braces against the staircase just kind of numb with the realization that Owen is alive, the anger and resentment that he mourned Owen for so long only for him to be out there doing evil schemes. It's all played perfectly.

As an Owen Carvour defender I have issues with what agent Mega does here that are mostly subtextual, so I'm gonna stick to the acting choices within the actual text of the show:

The thing that stands out the most about Joey Richter's performance to me is the little vocal breaks and how raw the line deliveries are, but what stands out to me about Curt Mega's performance is his body language and facial expressions, which are just pitch perfect from start to finish.

Our guy is speedrunning the five stages of grief on that staircase.

First is denial and anger, kinda wrapped up in one package- denying that Owen has the upper hand, there's something about the stance here that feels like he's planting himself with a false confidence, like he doesn't want Owen to know how scared and overwhelmed and sad he is about this. How angry he is that his life fell apart mourning someone who isn't even dead.

Then bargaining- when Curt is pleading with Owen, telling him that he's sure the agencies can pull some strings and get him pardoned if he agrees to give up Chimera. It's hard to describe the expressions & body language in a way that doesn't sound kinda weird, but there's a flash on Curt's face that reads to me like "if you give up Chimera maybe there's a chance for us," which is of course cut off by Owen's anger. There's a desperation, and even a little hint of optimism- it isn't too late to fix this.

Then depression- the expressions here are just heartbreaking, as Owen pontificates Curt is just slowly unraveling, leaning back into the staircase his face just crumbles. Like every word Owen says is physically hurting him. Like he's realizing slowly that there is no going back, that the time they shared & the feelings they had aren't going to be enough. Actor Curt Mega makes so many interesting acting choices here that say so much more than you could say through dialogue alone. The way Curt steps into the gun very much feels like he is accepting that baring his heart to Owen could get him killed, and that it's worth the risk to try (damn, just gave myself more empathy for agent mega here)

And then- acceptance. After Curt has his big moment of vulnerability, appealing to Owen's memories of their time together, and Owen rejects him by telling him to move on, Curt accepts that he has to kill Owen. It reads to me like he isn't doing it to save the world (or at least not exclusively for that) he's doing it to save himself. To remove the spectre of Owen that has been haunting him for the last four years. That as long as Owen is alive he will be haunting Curt.

(As an Owen Carvour defender I have to point out that Owen is *disarmed* at this point, so I personally have a whole big rant I could make but this shit is too long already)

Again it's weird to describe someone's facial expressions and body language, but all of the emotions you can infer from this scene are down to just great acting. Two really good actors doing a well-written scene spectacularly. As good as the rest of the show is- and its very good- this scene is why there's still an active fanbase for a comedy spy parody musical, still making art and writing fanfiction and doing edits and memes about the relationship between Owen Carvour and Agent Curt Mega nearly eight years later.

#spies are forever #tin can bros #agent curt mega #owen carvour #curtwen #joey richter #curt mega #staircase scene #SAFtistic

[sirianasims]

Classic mom and Conrad. It felt like everyone else were having more fun than I did. I thought about what she had said. What did I really want?

I wanted what both of my parents had, separately. But without the absolute dumpster fire of a relationship that resulted in me. Dad and Cecilia seemed blissfully in love, and mom and Conrad could never keep their hands off each other, even in their late fifties.

Of course I wanted a boyfriend. Rather desperately, if I was being honest. I wanted to experience the same things that everyone else did, the excitement and the kissing and the touching. But I also wanted a family that wasn’t broken.

Ideally, I’d find a really solid husband who never drank alcohol, never talked to other women, loved me, and never left. And then we’d have a couple of perfect, well-behaved kids, I’d be a famous football player and the best mother ever and we’d live happily ever after.

I rolled over and sighed. It actually sounded a little dull when I spelled it out like that. But I didn’t want the pain and heartbreak that my parents had been suffering through – or causing.

Most of all, I never wanted any of my children to feel like an accident.

Maybe I was foolish for thinking that I’d get to control everything. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t relax.

Then I heard it.

I could just make out voices, quietly talking and laughing in the hallway outside my door, before moving to the other side of the wall. Samuels’ room. It got very quiet for a while. And then, the faint moans of a girl.

I sat up. Oh no. Anything but this.

The moans got slightly louder. I wasn’t sure what to do. If I went downstairs, they’d know I could hear them. I felt paralysed by the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

The moaning was now accompanied by a faint, rhythmic knocking of wooden bed against the wall. Shit. I wondered if I’d be able to get my headphones without making any noise, but for some reason I couldn’t move.

The girl giggled. “Oh, Sammy!“

I was seething. His name is Samuel. I didn’t have time to seethe for long, however, because a much deeper groan now joined in.

I had never heard him sound like that. I got chills. I wanted to hear more of that voice, wanted it to be moaning in my ear, whispering my name. I needed to drown myself in that voice.

On the other side of the wall, Samuel groaned again as the girl babbled on inanely.

I wanted to make it stop, to run in and rip Samuel away from her. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to do unmentionable things to him, to have him do unmentionable things to me.

I had to get away, immediately.

I leapt out of bed, stomped across my room and loudly slammed my door before stomping into the bathroom, slamming that door as well. As I passed Samuel’s room, it was quiet. Good. Hopefully the mood was spoiled.

I waited anxiously by the bathroom door, straining to hear what was happening outside. A minute or so later, I heard Samuel’s door open, quiet voices, and someone going down the stairs.

Yes! She was leaving!

I exited the bathroom, relief washing over me.

Only to immediately find myself face to face with Samuel, waiting for me outside. He looked about as displeased as could be expected.

“Freya, what the actual fuck was that about?”

“What, did I ruin something? Maybe if you’d tone it down a bit, I would be sleeping by now!”

“Well, if you… Never mind.”

As he turned his back on me, he paused briefly, shaking his head.

“You can be such a piece of work, Freya, did you know that?”

Then he shut the door behind him.

I sat on my bed, feeling like I’d somehow won a battle but lost the war.

I hated him. I wanted him. Fuck, when did he get so hot? The sound of his groans still rang in my ears, his naked torso seared into my memory. My entire body felt like it was on fire.

My hands moved down, almost on their own, and for the first time in my life, I made no efforts to be quiet. 

I’d show him exactly how much of a piece of work I could be.

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#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen4 #freya duchelli #samuel ward #stupid sexy samuel too

[kittievampire]

Kin of the Demon Prince (pt. 2)

Warnings : Cursing, Childhood Trauma, Mention of drugs, Mention of alcohol, Mention of violence, Mention of getting jumped, Angst, Thoughts of Abortion (IT DOESN'T HAPPEN THO), MC is a fuckin unit, Female MC, Pregnant MC, Single Mom MC, MC x Diavolo

Link to part 1

Link to part 3

Link to part 4

Link to part 5

Link to part 6

Link to part 7

Link to part 8

Link to part 9

Enjoy.

You felt like you could hear your heartbreak. Like a glass window slowly beginning to crack, little pieces falling out and hitting the floor with tiny clanks. Diavolo, your beloved King, he didn't want you anymore?

"W... What?" You asked softly as tears welled up in your eyes.

Solomon furrowed his brows and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... I told him... About the baby and he said that he didn't want a child with you... He said that the future king of the Devildom couldn't have some half-breed child," He said softly, not meeting your eyes. "He asked that you keep this a secret and never try to contact him again."

Your heart shattered as tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. You were frozen in your spot, to the point where you didn't even sob or cry loudly. No, there were just tears. An endless stream of them pouring from your eyes.

Solomon sat down beside you and placed his hand on your shoulder, biting his lip as he thought of what he would say next. "If... You want... I could place a cloaking spell on you and your child..." He offered quietly.

You looked over at him. "Why... Would we need that? I-If he wants n-nothing to do with me... Why would he come looking for us?" You asked, your hand being placed on your hand on your stomach, almost as if defending your baby from someone who wasn't even here.

Solomon placed his hands on his lap. "Security purposes. Now that you're someone who has... Something that could ruin his reputation—" He shifted in his seat- "He may send people to get rid of you. Of course, I may just be overthinking. I could also cast a spell that lets you know if his people are nearby. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

Your bottom lip quivered as you looked down at your stomach. You didn't want to put the baby in danger. After all, you were planning on keeping it. Hesitantly, you nodded your head.

After Solomon cast the spells and left your home, you finally buried your head in your hands and wept.

Your body racked with sobs, letting out the occasional scream as a result of the anger and sadness you felt. You ended up gripping your hair at the base and pulling at it, almost as if trying to rip your locks from your scalp as you tried to think of what you'd possibly done wrong.

Were you wrong in thinking he wanted a child?

Were the two of you supposed to break up once you left?

Were you only temporary?

"Diavolo!" You screamed, earning the sound of silence in response. Your sobbing calmed and you went silent. Sinking into the couch, you looked down at your stomach as your mind wandered.

What was the point of it then?

If your child looked like him, wouldn't that only bring you pain?

Why, then, should you be forced to live with that kind of suffering? You couldn't give up a demon child for adoption, but you could abort it.

Then, you thought about yourself when you were younger. Your living situation. That time your mother almost killed you by smashing a glass bottle over your head. How she'd abandoned you as soon as you were born, instead devoting her time and life to drugs and alcohol.

No.

You wrapped your arms around your stomach.

You can't give up your baby so easily.

You're better than that bitch who gave birth to you. You wouldn't abandon your child as she did hers. Even if Diavolo didn't want it, he didn't have a say anymore. Now, it was only you.

"Baby..." You whimpered out. "I'm so sorry," You apologized, a soft smile forming on your face. "Mama's going to do everything she can to make sure you have the best life, okay?" Your trembling hand caressed your stomach. Leaning your head back, you let out a sigh. "Even if Papa won't be a part of it."

_

Time had passed by so quickly. You didn't even realize when you were in your third trimester. Carrying the child of the Demon Prince was definitely no easy feat. You sometimes craved those weird foods that could only be found in the Devildom, like Super Spicy Newt Chips or Barbatos' tea. And, for whatever reason, you always gagged at the sight or smell of pickles. Your energy depleted twice as fast as the average pregnant woman. While Solomon was there to help every now and then, you accepted that this was the pain you had to go through for your baby's sake.

The day of her arrival, though, was probably the most pain you've ever felt in your entire life.

Solomon had managed to somehow get doctors to your house to help with the delivery of your daughter. He used magic to ease the pain a little, but this was the offspring of a powerful demonic bloodline you were pushing out of you! Screams filled the room as you pushed, the sides of her horns scraping your insides slightly. You thanked the heavens that her horns were curved inward, or else you'd practically bleed to death then and there. Your wails of pain were silenced as you heard the cries of your child. With blurry vision, you looked at one of the doctors who was holding your baby. They cleaned her up, tucked in her wings comfortably, swaddled her up in a red blanket, and handed her over to you.

They said something to you that you couldn't be bothered to make out. You were too busy staring in awe at your baby.

She was beautiful.

Black and gold horns with a red shading sprouted out of either side of her head, curving inward a little, a few tiny sprouts of red hair were present on the top of her head, and her golden eyes stared into yours.

Gently, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, cradling her as gently as humanly possible in your arms. "My baby... My sweet child..."

_

You and Diavolo had discussed the topic of baby names before. This was a pre-relationship question that came up during a game of Twenty Questions. Of course, you had to explain the game to him, as it was a human game.

Which was funny, because he had heard of the game, pitched the idea, and had no clue how to play.

So, you looked up some questions on your D.D.D., hoping to find some funny questions to ask while also being respectful to the future king of the Devildom.

"Let's see... What would the perfect day look like to you?" You ask, causing him to look up for a moment, pursing his lips as he pondered for a moment.

"Perhaps a calm and quiet day. Barbatos would make tea, there wouldn't be too many documents for myself and Lucifer to fill out, and perhaps a long bath." He looked down at you and smiled warmly. "Of course, it would be better if you were there to spend the day with me," He said, hand reaching over and gently grasping yours. "If you would allow it, a day of privacy with you would be perfect."

Your face flushed a bright shade of pink and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "Yeah... Maybe... U-Uh, anyways, it's your turn." You quickly move your hand away from his and place it on your cheek to feel just how hot they'd gotten.

Diavolo chuckled softly. "Hm—" He thought for a moment— "What makes you feel the most loved, MC?"

You blinked, cursing under your breath. Of course, he'd ask something like that. Honestly, you didn't quite know what you expected from him.

You took a moment to think carefully about your answer.

"Probably just being there," You answered quietly, making his ears perk up a bit.

"Oh? How so?"

Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip as your body tried to stop itself from answering. Thanks to the life you'd lived, you had grown quite accustomed to hiding things from people. Specifically, personal details about your feelings and your past. However, when you looked into Diavolo's eyes, you saw that you could tell him anything. He wouldn't judge you, mock you, or claim that you're overreacting. He would be there for you. That was part of what drew you closer to him.

"My family practically abandoned me when I was born. Since I had no one else to rely on, I started relying so much on myself that I just kind of... closed myself off from everyone else. I had friends, but they were never there for me when I needed them to be. One time, I got jumped just outside of school when a few friends and I were headed to the arcade. Instead of helping me, they ran. When I got home, my mother berated me for being so weak and 'putting myself in the position to be jumped.' The next day, when I confronted my friends about it, they just shrugged off my feelings and continued about their day—" You started rubbing your shoulder in an effort to comfort yourself while you remembered that day— "No one was ever there for me when I was alone... So, if someone would just be there for me, in any way, shape, or form, I would probably appreciate that more than anything."

The silence that fell upon the two of you was blatantly awkward, mainly to you. You didn't want to look up at him, worrying about his reaction.

"MC..." You heard him say softly. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that... It's infuriating to hear, I wish I could be more helpful to you."

You shook your head. "The past is the past, it won't change. Besides, I don't think I would want it to. Everything I've been through made me who I am today. That's the only thing I'm thankful for," You said, looking up at him to see a sweet smile form on his face.

"I agree wholeheartedly. Had you been a different person, I may not have fallen so hard for you, MC," He said, smiling growing only slightly wider, causing you to blush. Fumbling, you quickly grab a hold of your D.D.D. and scrolled through the questions on the screen, picking a random one in your desperation to change the topic.

"What is your favorite baby name?" You asked him, placing your D.D.D. down on the table in front of you. Immediately, you ask yourself why the fuck you would choose a question like that. Damn these awkward and slightly intimate 20-question pages. Diavolo leaned back, looking up at the ceiling while crossing his arms.

"My favorite baby name..." He repeated with a small sigh. "Well, for a boy, it'd have to either be Andras or Damien. For a girl... Hmm, that's a tough one... I do love the name, Selene." You smiled at him as you leaned forward against the table. "Any special reason?"

Diavolo laughed a little at your response. "Not really, no, I just like the names. Especially Selene."

Tag list; @lavynne , @jessiegerl , @romaissa , @krispsprite , @unlikelysublimekryptonite

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[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Four: "Macchiat- Oh No..." ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, the time has come for Reader to break the news to her boyfriend… only, he doesn't take it as well as she'd hoped. — (Now) When Steve stops by for his daily coffee, things take a sour turn when his ex-girlfriend walks in.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader (Reader x Jason Carver and Steve x Brenda are both featured as well)

Word Count: 2,401

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of vomit, adoption/abortion talk, mild swearing, Reader slaps and hits Jason, food consumption (Reader and Steve share a cookie), Jason is sorta out of character, lmk if i missed anything lol!

Extra Notes: so sorry this chapter was late, life is crazy rn lol but i hope y'all enjoy!

Originally Written: 11/28/2023 through 12/19/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, August of 1987 ]

You knew it was impossible, but you were sure you'd just witnessed your boyfriend's eyes double in size. "Y-You're what?" he stuttered, his hands grabbing hold of the wooden bedpost beside him.

You couldn't say you blamed him. After all, you were nearly thirteen weeks along and still having trouble believing the news yourself. "I'm pregnant," you repeated. "We're gonna have a baby, Jay."

His normally glowy and tanned skin turned snow white. "No," he said, the word coated with disbelief and something close to anger. "I can't- We can't have a baby."

Rather than the excitement you'd hoped to feel when finally telling him your news, your heart felt like it was being crushed into a million tiny pieces. Pain and guilt and confusion stung in your stomach, and while you hadn't experienced morning sickness in almost two weeks, you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. "What do you mean?" you asked in confusion and shock.

"I leave next week for college. I'm gonna be in California. I can't…"

Your hand met his shoulder softly, the pad of your thumb rubbing soft lines along his covered skin. "I know it's scary, but I know we can make this work, Jay. I'm-"

"No," he repeated, his voice stern this time. "I cannot have a kid. We have to get rid of it."

Confusion soon melted into betrayal as you realized what he'd meant by his earlier statement. Anger burned in your veins, your fists clenching. "Excuse me?"

"Y/N, imagine what that would do to my reputation. I mean, I'm about to join one of the most renowned basketball teams in America."

An aggravated scoff left your lips as you moved away from him, suddenly unsure if you could contain your anger if you continued to sit beside him on the bed. "Well, I'm sorry this puts such a damper in your plans."

The room, which once felt so full of love and lust, was now spinning in a storm of betrayal and fury. The bed, where your child had been conceived, was now the place where you'd experienced your first true heartbreak. You stumbled backward a few steps, gripping his dresser for dear life as you processed the scene in front of you.

"Y/N, you know it's not me," he argued. "You know what my parents would do if I ruined my full ride like this."

You truly wanted to believe this wasn't his idea, knowing Jason's dad wasn't much better than your own father—before he left anyway. But you knew him better than anyone, and you knew for a fact that when Jason had an idea in his head, he was going to go through with it.

He stood, walking toward you. Tears brimmed in his eyes, blue and heavy and beautiful, like two oceans you could get lost swimming in. A hand raised up to your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen from your own eyes. "It'll be okay. We can fix this. You can give it up for adoption or-"

You cursed yourself for even beginning to think he was starting to come over to your side. Your palms lay flat on his hard chest, pushing him away. "I love how you assume that I'm on your side, Jason. I mean, did you ever stop to consider maybe I want to keep this baby?"

He faltered, stepping back toward the bed. "Why? You've got your whole-"

"My whole life ahead of me?" you finished his sentence, the words filled with disbelief. "Jason, your dad makes more in one month than my mom and I make in a year combined. I can't afford to move to California for college like you can."

"So what, you're just gonna do like all the other women in Hawkins? Get pregnant and have four kids and live out in the suburbs?"

You really and truthfully couldn't believe what you were hearing. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

His next sentence was like a viper bite, so venomous that it stung down to your bones. "It is when it's not what either of us wants."

Tears that previously pricked your eyes began to fall like rain storms as your hands met his chest, slapping and shoving as his words of duplicity repeated like skipping records in your head. You knew it wasn't right to treat him this way, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Incoherent sobs and screams flew from your lips, hitting his chest with smack after smack.

"You selfish bastard!" you cried, striking his polo-clad skin. "How dare you tell me what I do or don't want?"

He just stood there and took the blows like nothing was happening, passive and composed. You hated that he acted like this was just a casual Friday, yet you envied him for being so in control of his emotions, his placid expression not allowing you to see any kind of hidden feeling behind those blue eyes you once called home.

Teardrops fell as your chest heaved, a thousand different emotions swirling like a tornado inside you. The man who'd once picked up your broken pieces had now left you shattered, a million tiny splinters of grief scattered across his bedroom floor.

As if flipping a light switch, you forced yourself to calm down, removing your flying fists from his chest and drying up your crocodile tears. You grabbed your coat, backing toward the exit. You took one last look around the room, knowing this was exactly how you'd remember it when his name was mentioned or when your baby opened its eyes to reveal the same ocean blue shade its father had all those years ago.

[ Now, December of 1991 ]

"If you decide you want to grow a set of balls and learn how to grow the hell up," you practically spat at him, gripping the doorknob much tighter than necessary, "you know where to find me, Jason Carver."

"Here is that-"

Your sentence was quickly cut off by Steve grabbing your arm and pulling you into the booth beside him. His cold palm sent goosebumps running up your arm where your sweater sleeve had slid up, his fingertips juxtaposingly shooting hot sparks through you.

Still, you cleared your throat, confused by his sudden, out-of-character action. "You that desperate for a date, Harrington?"

"Actually, yes," he whispered, not making eye contact with you and instead staring toward the door.

Brows furrowing, you turned to see what exactly had stolen the man's attention. When your eyes landed on it, or rather her, you could've sworn you felt bile rising in your throat.

Her long and tanned legs sported what looked to be the most beautiful and most expensive skirt you'd ever seen, despite the forty degree weather outside. The baby pink sweater that flowed around her top half only complemented her skin tone and her gorgeous blonde hair, curled to perfection. Her makeup was perfect, but she didn't even need it because when she smiled, it lit up the whole room. Jealousy and hurt flowed through you as you realized she was everything you weren't.

"You see that girl sitting down in the booth by the door?" Steve asked. You suddenly had the urge to smack him for even mentioning her.

Still, you pushed your feelings down and turned back toward him, meeting him once again with pinched brows. "Yes…" your voice trailed. "I'm sorry. What do I have to do with-"

"That's my ex-girlfriend," he whispered, still keeping a wary eye on the woman.

Your mouth flew open as you realized your mistake, your previous jealousy quickly melting into embarrassment. Though, you did still feel a slight tinge of envy at the prospect of any girl holding Steve's hand or kissing his lips when you couldn't, but that was a story for another time.

Your eyes twinkled mischievously at his unspoken proposition. "Steve Harrington, are you asking me on a playdate?"

He moved uncomfortably in his seat as he continued to watch the blonde across the shop. "When you put it like that, it seems more childish than it should."

"Oh, it's definitely as childish as it seems," you grinned. "But I suppose I can play along since the most popular boy on the playground invited me to his little game."

You stood, walking quickly to the counter. After making sure the blonde wasn't looking—she was instead looking at a handsome brunet who'd just sat down across from her—you quickly grabbed a cookie from the display counter and sprinted back to Steve's table.

This time his brows furrowed, but you just answered him with, "If we're gonna play, we need toys and props."

He let out an exasperated sigh, and you reveled in his defeat. "You're eating this up, aren't you?"

"The same way we're about to eat this cookie."

Before you could process what was happening, he was tossing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. Your breath caught in your throat, and your skin was boiling hot where his fingers touched you through your cardigan.

"Oh, my God," the brightest and cheeriest voice you'd ever heard greeted you. "Steve Harrington?"

Steve feigned surprise as he made eye contact with the woman he'd been watching. "Brenda? Wow, you look…"

"I know!" she smiled, her cheeks rosy. You wanted to throw up just watching their interaction. "You don't look so bad yourself. I mean, how long has it been? Four-"

"Five years," he corrected her. You could've sworn he grimaced at the memory. "So, what are you up to now?"

She showed off her engagement ring happily, and both Steve's and your eyes nearly popped out of your eye sockets at the size of the diamond in the middle. "Matt and I were actually on our way up to Boston for a cake tasting but he wanted to stop for some coffee first."

"Huh, who would've thought?" Something flashed in Steve's eyes that you'd never seen from him: hurt. You weren't sure what had happened between them, but your heart stung as you watched that brief surge of painful nostalgia wash over him. Had it not been for you watching Steve all those months and learning all his reactions, you might've missed it.

A brief moment of silence overtook your table, so you decided to carry on to the next topic, thankful that your job had somewhat taught you how to think fast. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Y/N, Steve's girlfriend," you said, holding out your hand toward the blonde.

Girlfriend. It'd been so long since you'd been one of those, you'd forgotten how nice it was to say. But with Steve… the word left you feeling a satisfaction you'd never felt before.

Brenda took your hand, shaking it curtly. "Pleased to meet you. It's nice to see Steve finally found someone who'll settle him down."

The man muttered something under his breath, so quiet Brenda didn't notice and you couldn't tell what it was. At full volume, he said, "Who would've thought that one up either?"

She let out a laugh, one almost as sickeningly sweet as the frappuccino in Steve's hand. A quick smile flashed across her lips before she said, "I guess I have to get going if Matt and I are going to make our appointment with the baker but it was good to see you, Steve. And nice to meet you, Y/N."

You and Steve both chirped out a response before she headed toward the door, a string of laughs leaving her lips as her fiancé wrapped an arm around her from behind. You'd never been one to hate love, but suddenly you wished this was the seventeenth century, where public displays of affection were outlawed.

Steve took a piece of the cookie, the feeling of his hand brushing yours bringing you out of your slightly maniacal thoughts. He threw it into his mouth, and you realized just how much you wanted to feel it touch your own mouth. What is with me today? you wondered silently.

"So that was Brenda," he said, a chuckle nearly falling behind his sentence.

You snickered, taking a bite of the cookie yourself. "So it was," you snickered before tossing back the sugar cookie's goodness. "She always been drop dead gorgeous or is it just that post-grad, pre-wedding glow?"

A low laugh rumbled from his chest, and the sound made tingles shoot up your spine. "She's always been something." Sarcasm coated the words.

"You wanna talk about it?"

His arm was still around your shoulders, and both of you were extremely aware of it. The tips of his fingers touching your sweater clad skin, your body practically flush against his side, both your faces close enough to feel the warmth of the other person's breath. As if realizing it at the same time, you scooted closer to the edge of the seat and he removed his arm, placing his hands in his lap.

"Not much to talk about," he answered, nonchalantly ignoring the arm-around-the-shoulders business. "I was a bit of a party boy in my first year at Aster."

Your mouth fell open in fake shock. "I never would've guessed! A handsome guy like you? No way you got invited to parties every weekend."

"I take it back," he quipped, and you had to resist a laugh, "I don't want your number anymore. And I sure as hell don't wanna tell you about my ex-girlfriend drama."

"Okay, okay, I'll behave." Another laugh fought to escape your lips.

"I was a bit of a party boy. But I met her and things changed." That hurt from before flashed across Steve's face again, causing your heart to sting once more. "I thought she'd be the one. But nothing I ever did was good enough. One day I found out she'd cheated on me three different times, trying to find someone better and I dipped. Haven't really dated since."

You thought about someone you hadn't thought of in years, how you were convinced he was the one. How he left you feeling like a crumpled up piece of garbage on the ground afterward. How he hadn't apologized or reached out since.

Suddenly, you realized, maybe you and Steve weren't so different after all. Maybe, just maybe, if you gave him the chance, the two of you could be more similar than you ever imagined.

Y'all, I am so so sorry this chapter is so late 😭

I feel like those posts about the AO3 authors that are like "A/N: sorry this is late, i got hit by a train" but that's truly what it feels like happened these past two weeks LOL. I have had so much happening in my personal life between work and sickness and ending up in the ER and now Christmas. It was... insane lol

Regardless of all that, I hope this was worth the wait and I'm so happy to be posting for you guys again! Chapter five will be up in just a little bit so I hope you guys enjoyed this one for now! Happy holidays from me and the B&M crew! 🤎

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair

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