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ckret2 · 11 months ago

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Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes.

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks."

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms.��But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk.

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #soos ramirez #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(Dec 12 edit: chapter has been renumbered)

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pyre-of-pages · 3 months ago

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TES Crushes

I'd really like to get to know people in the fandom space, so here's an open invite to discuss something fun!

Which NPCs in TES (all games included!) do you crush on, and why? They don't have to be marriage candidates (in vanilla), just people you find yourself blushing around. Hell, it could be a Deadric Prince if that's what you're into. Name them and say what about them you find appealing! Then feel free to tag a friend or two!

Don't be afraid to reiterate what someone else has said if you happen to like the same characters.

I'll start off by tagging some really cool-looking people I've seen around: @skyrim-forever @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @ladytanithia

Mine? Well, they'll go below so this intro page isn't all about me and mine. ;)

((So far I've only played Skyrim, so my NPC crushes are all from TES: V. And I haven't met every single NPC there is in the game so my list may expand with time, lol.))

Male Crushes:

Onmund - He's just a sweet, nerdy Nord doofus who tries his best at the College despite feeling like a fish out of water. As a spouse, he's always supportive and loving. As a follower, his AI immediately picks up on threats (usually before I do) and it gives the impression of his character being protective. First spouse I ever chose (also it just makes perfect sense for Elur, my first LDB, to fall for him as far as her character goes).

Enthir - Shady but undeniably charismatic in the fact he gives zero shits what anyone thinks of him. There was always an undertone of odd genuineness to his personality in the College quests that made him fun to be around -- and that came full circle when we realize just how much he genuinely cares for members of the Nightingales. I love characters who act shallow but think and feel deeply.

Female Crushes:

Niranye - I crushed on this merchant the second I saw her because I just thought she was beautiful (her eyes got me for some reason). I also find her voice type the most attractive. I have no idea why, but I usually end up enjoying the uppity tone her voice actress pulls off for everyone she voices. Such a fun and charming mix of pleasant and passive-aggresive, lol. Then Niranye reveals she's a fence and her appeal to me became stronger because now she's more than just a pretty merchant, she's got a cunning little personality. She's a smart businesswoman and she knows it well. Used a cheat code to marry her to my second LDB (who is a Thalmor sympathizer who would only fall for another Altmer, and Taarie is too old for her). Luckily she has voiced romance/marriage dialogue. Since I really like the sound of her voice, my sappy ass melted to bits hearing it when my Altmer LDB proposed.

Jenassa - Hired her randomly because I needed extra pockets and was shocked to discover that she has a personality (was not expecting that of the sell-swords in this game). Took her to a Dwemer ruin and girl laid out paragraphs of lore that I hadn't heard before -- which gives the impression that she's rather book smart for a mercenary. Helping this is that every time I make camp with her, the first thing she does is read a book -- which in my mind, is something she keeps with her at all times because she enjoys reading in her spare time. I enjoy how excited she gets when she sees a hidey-hole she could ambush someone from and how she'll comment on the DB's strong ability to fight. I like that she's a suave, confident, capable fighter that comes to enjoy your company beyond the fact you're paying her. I plan to have my third LDB marry her because she's won my heart as far as the mercenaries I've come across.

Astrid - She's a murder-happy bitch who loves what she does and I'd be happy to let her stab me. . . . Shut up. Also, she's the only member of the OG Dark Brotherhood to have a full-blown character arch and in this house we are SLUTS for good character development. Absolute SLUTS for it.

#elder scrolls #tes skyrim #tesblr #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim #tes #fictional crushes

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saurongorthaur9 · 9 months ago

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ROP S2E7 Spoilers

So...the stupid kiss did indeed happen, and as promised yesterday, I need to vent and get it out of my system. It was every bit as stupid and unnecessary as I feared it would be; somehow, I was hoping if that was what happened, that somehow it wouldn't be as bad as it sounded? But yeah...it was. This is probably going to be a pretty long post, as I've been thinking a lot about what bothers me so much about it as a concept and I have a lot of Thoughts.

A disclaimer to begin with: yeah, part of me is disappointed that it wasn't the kiss I hoped it would be, but I knew from the start that a Sauron kiss would be very, very unlikely. If it had happened, it would have been less about a ship for me, and more about the validation for me of getting an onscreen Sauron kiss in a huge, professional production as I've written about in other posts. I would have loved a Sauron kiss, but that's not what is really bothering me on more than a surface level. So with that disclaimer aside...

I think I can break what bothers me down into two basic categories.

The first is more straightforward: it was SO unnecessary. Yes, there needed to be some way for Galadriel to get free, but there are so many ways it could have been set up without a weird, incredibly uncomfortable kiss that came out of absolute nowhere being necessary. He could have gently stroked her hair and slipped it behind her ear or into her hair itself (I used to have very long hair, and a pin like that would definitely get stuck if you tucked it in.) If they wanted to go the humorous, cliché route, they could have had him sneak it to her in a pie (that's a joke, I'm also glad they didn't do that, but my point is, they had options).

They could have set up the scene with a different tone and gone the Frodo-and-Sam-as-orcs route and had them fake a fight. I actually would have loved this. It could have been a culmination of the resentment and tension that's been building between the two of them all season to let off some steam at each other. It could have been one of those "we're fake fighting, but we're also real fighting at the same time" sort of scenes (which are delicious when pulled off right) where we could have gotten some real interesting character development and relationship development between the two of them before the orcs pulled them apart (but not before Elrond slipped the pin into her hand or tunic while pretending to push her or something).

The kiss however did nothing. Per my last two paragraphs, it being a kiss wasn't necessary for the plot. It didn't do anything to reveal anything about Elrond and Galadriel's relationship or develop it in any way. It didn't develop either Elrond or Galadriel's character in any way. It was purely and utterly for shock value.

And that's the first big thing: I really hate things used for shock value. It's a personal pet peeve of mine. And to make it clear, there's a different between using something for shock value and doing something shocking. Mirdania's death was pretty shocking, but it served the purposes of both showing how utterly ruthless Sauron is and solidified the elven soldiers' doubt in Celebrimbor's sanity. But using something for mere cheap shock value is so disappointing of the show. The writing had been SO good, everything had been so deliberate and intentional, that it made the sudden breach of that even more jarring and unpleasant.

And it makes me super worried for the future of the show. This show isn't Game of Thrones; it doesn't need shock value. But now they've set the precedent that adding pure shock value is okay for this show. It makes me afraid what else down the road will be thrown in the audience faces just to illicit an unpleasant reaction.

The second major thing that is bugging me about that scene is a little more insidious and subtle. I've seen people saying "it wasn't romantic", but the thing is, whether or not it was intended, romantic tension has now been introduced to Elrond and Galadriel's dynamic. Let me explain.

That scene was a pretty clear example of the Forced Proximity Trope. For anyone who doesn't know what that means, it's the trope of forcing two characters into a circumstance where they share space or physical intimacy that they wouldn't otherwise share. The most infamous version of it is the There Was Only One Bed trope. And the thing is, it's an incredibly romantic-coded trope. It's almost always used between two characters who have suppressed feelings for one another as a way to force them to confront said suppressed feelings. Even if it's used in a not explicitly romantic way, it still sends a subconscious message of romantic tension because that is what that trope is almost exclusively used for.

So yes, there is now romantic tension between Elrond and Galadriel, and I have a feeling they don't plan on doing anything about it.

At this point, I'd almost feel better if they went all the way and went ahead with the subconscious romantic tension. Like, putting Elrond and Galadriel in a romantic relationship wouldn't be my thing personally, but at least it would provide a sense that the writers had a purpose for the scene and for creating that tension. Dropping that and then not going anywhere else with it, and letting that tension fester for the rest of the series without acknowledging it or doing anything about it would be so disappointing and insulting to the audience.

But again, I'll be very surprised if they ever bring it up again.

And I'm sure the writers knew what they were doing. The only two options are that they were oblivious to the connotations of using that trope or that they knew full well, and used it anyway. And I suspect it's the latter. As good as the overall writing for this season has been, I just can't imagine the writers aren't aware of what they were doing in using that trope. I mean, they've deliberately used a number of romantic-coded tropes to build up the Galadriel/Sauron tension. They aren't oblivious, which means they used the Forced Proximity Trope deliberately and fully aware of it's implications.

It just really seriously damaged my faith in the writing of the show, just when I'd been building it up after some big disappointments from Season 1. Again, they've set a precedent, and I'm really worried this isn't the last time they'll pull something ridiculous like this.

Maybe somehow they'll turn it around. Maybe they'll have Galadriel and Elrond bring it up again and deal with the tension, maybe they do plan to have a romantic subplot between the two of them, or maybe they have something planned down the road that will put that moment in a light that shows it as something other than shock value. But I'm currently pretty pessimistic about that happening.

And it's extra disappointing, because the rest of that episode was absolutely amazing. That one bad moment stands out like a wine stain on a white dress because the rest of the episode was so good.

Anyway, that's my rant. I just had to vent and get my thoughts out of my head where they've been swirling. If anyone is feeling the same way and wants to vent with me, my inbox and messages are open.

#rop #rings of power #rop s2 #rings of power season 2 #rop spoilers #rings of power spoilers #galadriel #rop galadriel #elrond #rop elrond #vent post

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manytoonepoet · 1 year ago

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Mysticism and Secrecy...

WE'RE BACK AT IT AGAIN, PEOPLE.

So to recap, in the second part of episode two, we learned about the Illusory SEEDS and Merold's true intentions, how while those stories that were told about Merold and his abilities were indeed a lie, he is still the strongest, not in terms of physical strength, but rather in terms of how he carries himself, his words, his wits his smarts. And it indeed worked because My Melody's kingdom grew to be one of the strongest within the Red Continent.

This is what chivalry means to him, what made him want to become a knight; do whatever he can to protect the ones who are dear to him despite having him to "Tell as many lies and use as many underhanded tricks as I need to. Go ahead and call me a fraud. That means nothing of me. Not if it means I can keep Melody and her kingdom out of danger with these unworthy hands of mine.". Sounds familiar?

Quote from Your Melody: "It's okay to deceive with an outright lie... because within it lingers a quiet love." — "If I were to stain your smile, then I would do away with this heart of mine." — "Even with this fragile heart, above all else, you are my dearest. (Tell me, tell me why.) These overwhelming feelings are a MELODY for you. (Tell me, tell me why.)"

Merold knows that what he's doing isn't the best, even going out to admit they were merely "lies" and "underhanded tricks", and that they would bring disdain, fear and anxiety across the world of Fragaria, but he doesn't care because he's doing all of this to protect Melody. That, and he's already too far within his own illusion.

You see, Merold and the SEEDS aren't too different, really.

Quote from episode 2, part 1 (Merold): "These SEEDS and the oh-so-terrible "greatest knight" might just have something in common."

Besides, have you noticed that both MELODY (representing Merold) and SEEDS are both in all caps?

This is because they have similar forms of attack; by spreading fear and anxiety through lies or "illusions". The SEEDS' lie being their illusions to cause harm, and Merold's lie being his facade to protect the ones who are dear to him.

You see, this is actually not the first time we talked about the SEEDS and illusions all in the same sentence, or, paragraph rather.

In all of my theories, me and my friend concluded that the SEEDS take on various forms to create illusions to trap the knights. (The ribbons in Ever Red. The mansion in Your Melody. And the neon lights in Charcoal White.)

We figured that if the SEEDS can take into various forms to create illusions, it'll be easier to lure the knights in unnoticed, especially when the forms they take are what the knights' wants, but always at a cost.

In Ever Red, the ribbons tie everyone together — symbolizing Hallritt's want for all of them to come and work together as one, in exchange, he's being held back, tied down, pulled into the abyss of those fragmented memories as if he's being tied on a leash. And is now stuck in this loop of anxious torment. — They overpower the knights.

In Your Melody, the mansion is beautiful, peaceful, safe — symbolizing Merold's want for a peaceful life, one where he can keep everyone who he holds dear safe. In exchange, he became so fixated on this illusion that he cannot see any other way other than this. He knows that this is safe, he knows that he can protect them like this, but in the long run he will fail. — They overpower the meadow, the knights.

In Charcoal White, the neon lights are the ones that "paint the city" — symbolizing Chaco's want to be seen, but in return, he lost sight of who he truly is, now struggling with the fact whether or not he is authentic. Is he true self even "true"? — They over power the graffiti, the knights.

Now, "Seeds correlating to missing cases where they can make people disappear aligns with anxiety. Our first perception of seeds were that they're anxiety. It aligns because when you're anxious, you'd just want the ground to swallow you whole and disappear forever, hence the missing cases? I'm thinking that when someone is anxious caused by the seeds, it would soon consume them and then they'll "disappear"." — @c h a m a l a m.

"I'd like to think of these as different stages. Stage/act I: Anxiety. Stage/act II: Vanish. I could say that there'd be a third stage/act because it could fit well with the Fragaria 3: bouquets and timelines." — @c h a m a l a m.

So you see here, like what my best friend said said, it aligns because when you're anxious, you'd just want the ground to swallow you whole and disappear, that is what Merold thought of and incorporated when he lied about being the "strongest knight", to cause fear and make people think twice about making an enemy of him.

But this is where he will meet his downfall because I believe his plan would backfire. Going with the Your Melody theme, we have this line:

Quote: "The signals from our talks that made my heart flutter... are now sinking down my ordinary wish to the bottom"

Back then, I wrote how this "ordinary wish" of his is the want to continue living this "peaceful life because this is where it is "safe", but the more Hallritt protests, the more they talk.. he slowly began to realize just how this can be incredibly crucial to the story, that's why he began listening to Hallritt.

Now, have you guys realized that during Merold's little speech about what chivalry means to him and the mirror scene from Your Melody resembles each other?

Well, I believe this is because this is where he began sinking and got sucked into the broken mirror, where he began to lose the important parts of himself for the sake of protecting Melody. His actions were a double edge sword, causing anxiety and fear to bring peace and security.

This is also why Hallritt was serious–looking in the album cover and during the majority of the mv. He didn't like how he was told he was unfitting for a knight, how, when he asked Merold about the fault in wanting to be idealistic, he was told "All I'm hearing is 'let's work together' this, 'let's learn from Red Bouquet' that, 'I want to be this kind of knight'... It's all about you and your ideals. But for all your pretty words, in reality you were fooled by a single SEEDS and you achieved nothing.".

He became tense and distant towards Merold because he still sees Merold as a fraud and he even declares how he hated people like Merold, he even attempted to fight him a couple of times already. Hallritt's purity and innocence mixed in with the love and passion he's feeling has caused the predicament they were once and currently in.

All this negative energy won't do them any good, especially if they want to go against the SEEDS who literally thrives off of negativity. So, what should they do? SUMMON THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP, BECAUSE FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC. (jk).

In my Charcoal White post, me and my bestfriend theorized how in the song, they realized that going in headfirst while desperately trying to eliminate every single SEED they encounter wouldn't work, so what they did is take a strategic form of attack and will infiltrate the SEEDS at it's source. And it seems like we was right because that was what Merold and Romarriche did in the episode.

But truly, it is indeed best if they were to stick together and actually get along with each other because only they, the knights, could dispell the SEEDS, and if they let their negative emotions get the best of them.. then.. well, let's just say that it would result to more angst, conflicts, and time loops (probably).

#fragaria memories #fragaria sanrio #fragmem #fragaria #fan analysis #fan theory #fan thoughts #red bouquet #your melody #Ever Red #Charcoal White #merold #hallritt #romarriche #chaco

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hazalyildizs · 8 months ago

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Self Paragraph—Aftermath

Timeline: Nov 04th, 2024 after work hours.

TW: Stalking, violence, drugging, strangulation, blood

@lincolnreid & @alcrayildiz

This situation was uncomfortable at best. Hazal was on Marcus' sofa, her foot tapping against the carpet while she waited for the rest to arrive. They were all supposed to meet up for a gathering at Marcus’ house, to celebrate a project wrap up. She glanced at her phone again, still puzzled as to why she was the only present?

"I just texted with Sarah, and she swears she thought it was tomorrow night," Marcus explained, settling into the armchair across from her. "Funny how everyone got the date wrong, isn't it?"

She shifted, something about this didn’t sit right by her. But she chalked it up to her paranoia. Having a stalker did that to her. "Maybe we should just reschedule for tomorrow when everyone can make it," she suggested, setting her barely-touched wine on the coffee table. "It feels weird with just us two."

"But you've barely touched your drink," he said, his eyes going down to the wine glass. "Just stay a little longer. At least finish your wine."

She didn’t want to be rude, so she grabbed the glass and gulped the content down. “There, I finished it. I really should get going. Linc and I-”

Her words died on her lips as soon as she started standing. The room spun, and she gripped the edge of the sofa, her vision blurring at the edges. "I don't feel so good," she mumbled, trying to stand but finding her legs wouldn't cooperate. The last thing she remembered was Marcus's face swimming before her eyes and then everything went black.

When she regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the biting cold against her wrists. Her eyes flew open to find herself secured to bedposts. Panic rose in her throat as she realized she was in an unfamiliar bedroom. “What the…” She pulled against the restraints, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

"Finally awake, beautiful," Marcus' voice came from the corner of the room, and she turned her head to see him watching her with an unsettling smile. "I've waited so long for this moment."

Terror gripped her as the pieces started falling into place. That voice. It was familiar because she knew it. "It was you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're the stalker."

“Bravo,” he said with a clap. Marcus approached the bed slowly, his face transformed into something unrecognizable. Far from the co-worker she thought she knew and was friends with. "You belong to me, not that son of a bitch," he stated matter-of-factly, reaching out to touch her face. She jerked away from his touch, bile rising in her throat. "I've watched you for months, waiting for the perfect moment. You're so beautiful when you work at your desk, when you get coffee with your sister, when you sleep…"

She struggled against the restraints, her mind racing to find a way out of this nightmare. The thought of him watching her all this time made her skin crawl, and now here she was, trapped with the very person who had been terrorizing her for months.

"You're wrong," she spat back, her fear turning into anger. "I don't belong to anyone, especially not to you." Her defiant words only seemed to amuse him as he circled the bed like a predator stalking its prey. She realized with growing horror that this had all been meticulously planned—the gathering that never was, the drugged wine, everyone's mysterious confusion about the date. She'd walked right into his trap, and now she was at the mercy of a man whose obsession had clearly driven him to madness.

Her thoughts drifted to Lincoln, wondering if he would realize something was wrong when she didn't come home tonight. She prayed someone would notice her absence soon, as Marcus's possessive gaze bore into her.

"You're mine now," he hissed, his fingers trailing down her arm. "No one else deserves you. You were always meant for me." She flinched at his touch, tears streaming down her face as she continued testing the bindings, looking for any weakness.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, hoping someone would overhear and come to her rescue. I’m not yours!”

"Who do you think you belong to, then? Lincoln Reid? That entitled bastard thinks he can have whatever he wants. But he doesn't know you like I do." His fingers traced along her jawline as she tried to pull away. "I've seen how he treats you at work. The way he acts like he owns the place, owns you."

"He’s a million times better than you are. You don't know anything," she said through gritted teeth, trying to mask her fear with anger.

He grabbed her face roughly, forcing her to look at him. "I know everything. I was there first. Watching you, protecting you. I saw how you used to hate him. How he made your life hell." His eyes had a wild, unfocused look. "But then he manipulated you, didn't he? Made you think you wanted him. Made you believe he loved you."

"He does love me! You're insane," she screamed, her voice shaking.

"No!" He slammed his hand against the headboard, making her jump. "I'm the only one who sees clearly. He is nothing but a spoiled rich boy playing games with people's lives. But you and me?" His voice softened to an unsettling gentleness. "We're meant to be together, sweetheart. I'll show you what real love is."

And just like that, he straightened up—smoothing down his shirt as if remembering himself. "I need to prepare for our new life together. Make things perfect for our wedding in Barcelona." He walked to the door, pausing to look back at her with an eerie smile. "Don't worry, beautiful. I'll be back soon. Then we can start our life together, the way it should have been all along."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone with nothing but the sound of her racing heart and the distant echo of his footsteps on the stairs.

Hours passed like days. Her wrists were raw from struggling, but by some miracle, she noticed one of the ropes had started to fray. Hearing silence, she worked harder at weakening the binding. When it finally gave way, she freed her other hand, her heart pounding as she untied her ankles.

Quietly, she crept toward the door on shaky legs, but a floorboard creaked beneath her weight, making her wince. His thundering footsteps on the stairs sent terror shooting through her body. She barely made it to the hallway when his hand seized her hair, yanking her backward.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarled, spinning her around. His fist connected with her face before she could react, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. She crashed against a hall table—sending all of the decorations to fall to the floor.

“You really think you can leave me?” His hands found her throat, squeezing as she gasped for air. “I was going to marry you! But since you think you’re better off without me, die bitch!” Her vision blurred as she frantically tried to swat his hands from her neck.

“Stop.” She yelped, gasping for air. Realizing it was fruitless, she reached around blindly as she flailed on the floor. Finally, her fingers closed around what felt like a heavy vase.

She swung with all her might, the vase connecting with his temple. He stumbled backward, blood streaming down his face, “you stupid bitch!” Angered, she swung again, and watched as more blood spurted out. This gave her the opening she needed. She ran, her bare feet slapping against the floor as she fled down the stairs and out the front door.

She fumbled with her phone, her hands trembling as she dialed 911. Crouched behind her car in the darkness, she gripped the tire iron she'd grabbed from her trunk.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Please," she sobbed. "I-I need help. My coworker, he drugged me, held me captive. I hit him with a vase to escape." The words tumbled out between gasps, her split lip stinging as she spoke.

"Can you tell me your location?"

She glanced around frantically, searching for a street sign and then realized she had it in her phone. "I'm at 4287 Oak Ridge Drive. Please hurry. He's bleeding but I don't know if he's following me."

"Stay on the line with me. Police are on their way. Are you somewhere safe?"

"I'm behind my car," she whispered, tightening her grip on the tire iron as a shadow moved across the house's upstairs window. "I have something to defend myself with if he comes out."

"Can you describe your attacker?"

"Marcus Davidson. He's my coworker at Wright Inc. He's about six feet tall, brown hair..." She choked back another sob. "There's blood on his face from where I hit him."

Red and blue lights finally illuminated the street, and she nearly collapsed with relief. "They're here," she breathed into the phone, tears streaming down her face. "The police are here."

#self para 02 #//this was too long. dead!

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cherokeegal1975 · 2 months ago

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I just took a quick listen to this...and ugh!

youtube

I'm only posting this audiobook because I want you to know what I'm writing about. That's it. I can't say I blame anyone for turning their noses up at it. Not because the story itself is terrible, but because my work as a reader sucks.

I can hear my voice and the sound needs editing. I really do read too fast. I can hear my perpetually stuffy nose in the tone of my voice. Allergies really are a bitch. I only listened to a few seconds after six years of deliberately avoiding it, I'm able to gain some perspective. Now I get it. Why people only listen to the first few minutes and then give up. I wince hearing it. It's not just the need for editing of the book itself, it's the reader too. Fully edited or not, will eventually try again just to improve on the overall quality of the audiobook and just submit it to YouTube as a matter of pride and for the challenge of it. Even if no one gives a shit.

I still want to very much try to read other people's works just for the challenge of it and wouldn't be surprised if they got more attention than my own writings...assuming I do a decent job as a reader. When and if I get to do my reading project, it'll be for the challenge of it, nothing more. I'll have no expectations of an audience. Posting the finished result just seems like the right thing to do once my work is done.

The rule is that the books I pick can't have an audio of it for sale already. There are two exceptions to this rule because both books I have in mind are severely abridged in their audio formats. Aside from those two, my rule will stand. This will cut down on the overwhelming choices and I just prefer it that way.

The only thing stopping me from trying on this project is the lack of time and privacy enough to pull it off. I need to at least have a closed door to my bedroom to cut down on the noise and hopefully prevent anyone from hearing me until I'm ready to post the final product. And I need at least two to three hours of uninterrupted personal time every day to work on it...which I don't have. Otherwise, I'd be all over it months ago. I'm bored and the one and only time I did a full audiobook it was hard to do because I had to do all the roles by myself. Editor, reader and even musician. I'd not bother with the music next time, but I want to do a better job as a reader and sound a little more professional. To mimic as closely as I can the work actual professional readers that get hired to do recorded books. A bit of trial and error will be required, but I think I can do it...if not for certain people in my life preventing me from trying. They don't know they are doing that, but the result is the same. I don't get to try my experiment.

Now that I've reviewed a few seconds of my book, I take even less offense to being ignored than I have been. Which granted wasn't very much by now, for I've become resigned to accepting my hard work being passed over.

When I can, I really will do my reading project, starting with someone else's book. I won't give up on it even though it might take a year or more before I can actually pull it off. On a positive note, I'm still equipped to make recordings. I don't know if I can't prevent the echo effect I was hearing in this recording because I don't have a recording studio set up, but I'll do the best I can. I'll definitely listen to any feedback and constructive criticism I get. In fact, I'll cherish it and take it seriously.

I'll let you know when I post an audiobook...if I get to anyway.

I did manage to do a short practice run by reading the first paragraphs of Enemy Mine and did okay, though I still couldn't do different voices. I did put emotion into it, so that's something. I also slowed down as more than one person mentioned that I should do. I liked what I heard so far. Just wish I could really try...ugh. Okay, no more bitching. Just...I get it. I really do; I sucked as a reader and it's a turn off.

#cherokeegal1975 #mpreg #mpreg story #discussion #project #audiobook #okay I get it now #Youtube

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happilyunlikelypeach · 4 months ago

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Ectoplasmic Hearts: A Trevor Spengler Romance

I MARKED AND ADDED LISTS OF PHARAGRAPH TO KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE DONE 😊👍😭

Paragraph 1

Summerville, Oklahoma, was not the kind of place where extraordinary things happened—at least, not at first glance. The dusty roads, the creaky farmhouses, and the tiny main street made it seem like just another forgotten town. But beneath its quiet surface lay secrets, remnants of a past filled with ghostly encounters and scientific marvels. You arrived with no grand expectations, hoping for a fresh start, unaware of the legacy you were about to step into. And you certainly never expected to meet someone like Trevor Spengler, whose presence would turn your life into something out of a storybook.

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You first saw him outside an old, weathered farmhouse on the outskirts of town, struggling with the hood of a car. Grease smeared across his cheek, his dark hair tousled from the summer heat, he muttered something under his breath about a carburetor. Curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself walking up to him, hands shoved into your pockets. "Need a hand?" you asked, surprising even yourself with the offer. Trevor looked up, blinking at you before grinning in a way that made your stomach flip.

Paragraph 3

"Unless you happen to be a carburetor expert, I think I'm doomed," he joked, stepping aside to let you peer at the engine. The old Cadillac looked like it had seen better days, and you vaguely recognized it from the stories the locals whispered about the infamous "dirt farmer." Something about it intrigued you—the way history clung to every inch of it, the way Trevor seemed determined to bring it back to life. "I don't know much about cars, but I can hold a wrench," you offered, and that was the start of everything. From that day forward, you and Trevor spent hours in the barn, fixing up the old vehicle, sharing stories, and discovering just how much you had in common.

Paragraph 4

Trevor was different from anyone you'd ever met—nerdy but charming, awkward but confident when it mattered. He had a way of making even the most ordinary moments feel special, whether it was sharing a milkshake at Spinners or racing down an empty road with music blasting from the newly restored speakers. There was something electric about being around him, a pull that neither of you wanted to fight. You hadn’t come to Summerville looking for love, but somehow, it had found you anyway. And as the days turned into weeks, you realized you never wanted to leave.

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But Summerville was far from an ordinary town, and Trevor's family carried a legacy unlike any other. His grandfather, Egon Spengler, had been a Ghostbuster, a scientist who had spent his final years preparing for a threat no one else believed in. It wasn't long before you found yourself pulled into the mystery—strange readings on an old PKE meter, odd tremors beneath the town, and whispers of something lurking beneath the Shandor Mining Company. Trevor, along with his sister Phoebe and their new friends, was determined to uncover the truth. And before you knew it, you were right there beside him, chasing ghosts and unraveling the past.

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The first time you saw a ghost, it was nothing like you expected. It wasn’t just some floating sheet or shadowy figure—it was a full-bodied, glowing, snarling specter with hollow eyes and a distorted mouth. You and Trevor had been investigating an abandoned barn just outside of town, following a spike in PKE readings, when it appeared. Your breath hitched as a cold chill ran down your spine, the air thick with the scent of ozone and something decayed. Trevor grabbed your hand instinctively, his grip tight, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

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The ghost let out an ear-splitting shriek, sending hay and dust swirling into the air. You stumbled back, your pulse pounding in your ears, as Trevor fumbled with the proton pack slung over his shoulder. "Okay, okay, we got this," he muttered, mostly to himself, as he powered it up. A bright beam of energy shot from the nozzle, crackling through the air as it hit the spirit. It twisted and recoiled, screeching in fury, and for a moment, you were frozen—completely mesmerized by the sight of something that should not exist.

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"Trap, we need a trap!" Trevor yelled, shaking you out of your daze. Your hands fumbled to grab the ghost trap he had given you earlier, your heart racing as you slid it onto the ground. With a swift kick, you activated it, and in an instant, the ghost was sucked into the device, its anguished cry fading into nothing. The barn fell into silence, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and Trevor’s relieved laugh. "Holy crap, we just caught a ghost," he said, grinning as he turned to you. "That was insane."

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Your hands were still shaking as you picked up the trap, feeling the vibrations of the captured spirit inside. "Yeah," you breathed, meeting Trevor’s eyes. "Insane is one way to put it." There was something in the way he looked at you then, something that made your heart race for an entirely different reason. The adrenaline of the moment, the thrill of surviving something so impossible, had created a spark between you that neither of you could ignore. And when he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, you knew your life had changed forever.

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From that night on, you and Trevor became inseparable. You weren’t just two people drawn together by circumstance anymore—you were a team, partners in something bigger than either of you had imagined. Every spare moment was spent learning the ins and outs of ghostbusting, training with Phoebe and Podcast, preparing for whatever came next. And through it all, your connection with Trevor deepened. Late nights in the barn turned into stolen glances, hands brushing against each other, whispered conversations under the stars. You had never felt so alive.

---

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The more time you spent together, the more you realized how much Trevor meant to you. He wasn’t just the boy with the easy smile and the sarcastic jokes—he was someone who made you feel safe, even when you were facing things that defied reality. When you trained with the proton packs, he always stood close, ready to catch you if something went wrong. When you researched old Ghostbusters files, he stayed up with you, even when his eyes grew heavy with sleep. He was becoming your constant, your anchor in a world that was starting to feel anything but normal.

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One evening, after a long day of fixing up Ecto-1 and reviewing Egon's notes, you and Trevor found yourselves sitting on the hood of the car, watching the sun set over the Oklahoma plains. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, and the air was warm with the last remnants of daylight. You leaned back on your hands, feeling the cool metal beneath your palms, and sighed. "Do you ever think about what life would be like if you hadn’t moved here?" you asked. Trevor turned to look at you, his brown eyes thoughtful.

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"All the time," he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. "But then I think about everything that’s happened since we got here. My sister discovering who she really is, my mom finally understanding my grandfather, and… meeting you." Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with ghosts. He reached for your hand then, his fingers brushing over yours, hesitant but hopeful. "I wouldn’t change any of it," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not if it meant losing this."

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You turned to face him fully, your hands still clasped together, your heart pounding against your ribs. The wind ruffled his hair, and the fading sunlight cast a golden glow over his face. "Me neither," you whispered, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you. The moment your lips met, everything else faded away. The ghosts, the danger, the uncertainty of the future—it all melted into the background, leaving only the warmth of Trevor’s touch and the way his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

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When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Trevor rested his forehead against yours, laughing softly. "That was… wow," he said, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. "Yeah," you agreed, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt. "Wow." Neither of you spoke for a while after that, content just to sit together under the twilight sky, your fingers intertwined. The world was changing around you, ghosts rising, mysteries unfolding, but in that moment, all that mattered was the way Trevor Spengler looked at you—like you were the best discovery he’d ever made.

---

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In the days that followed, nothing felt the same, yet everything felt right. Trevor still cracked dumb jokes and made sarcastic comments, but now his hand always found yours when no one was looking. You still spent your evenings fixing Ecto-1 and researching ghosts, but now there were stolen kisses between flipping through Egon’s notes. The world was still full of supernatural chaos, but somehow, in the middle of it all, you had found something real. Every moment together was electric, every touch a reminder that this—whatever it was—meant something more than either of you had expected.

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The ghost sightings in Summerville weren’t slowing down, and Phoebe was convinced something bigger was coming. You spent hours in the lab, going over the readings from the PKE meter, trying to make sense of the patterns. Trevor sat beside you, spinning a screwdriver between his fingers, watching you work with quiet admiration. "So, genius, what’s the verdict?" he teased, nudging your shoulder. You rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning closer to show him the numbers on the screen. "If I’m right," you said, voice turning serious, "something huge is about to happen beneath the Shandor Mine."

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Trevor’s smile faded as he studied the data, the reality of the situation settling in. "You think it’s another Gozer thing?" he asked, glancing at you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, but you nodded. "It’s possible. The energy spikes match what Phoebe found last time. If we don’t stop it now, who knows what could come through?" Trevor let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "Then I guess we better be ready," he said, determination in his voice. "Because there’s no way I’m letting some ancient ghost god ruin what we’ve got going here."

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The night before you planned to investigate the mine, Trevor took you to the abandoned drive-in theater just outside of town. The screen was cracked and faded, the seats long since overtaken by weeds, but it was quiet and secluded—your own little escape. You sat together on the hood of Ecto-1, wrapped in a blanket, watching the stars above. "You scared?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. You thought about lying, about pretending you weren’t terrified of what tomorrow might bring, but instead, you nodded. "Yeah," you admitted. "But not as scared as I would be if I had to do this alone."

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Trevor reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, his grip steady and warm. "You won’t be," he promised, squeezing gently. "We’ve got this. Together." The weight of his words settled over you like a protective shield, grounding you in the moment. He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world didn’t seem so scary. No matter what happened tomorrow, no matter what you faced in the mine, you knew one thing for certain—you and Trevor Spengler were in this together, and nothing, not even the ghosts of the past, could change that.

---

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Morning arrived too soon, bringing with it a sense of unease that settled deep in your bones. You stood outside the farmhouse, tightening the straps on your borrowed proton pack while Phoebe double-checked the ghost traps. Trevor leaned against Ecto-1, chewing his lip in thought, his usual carefree attitude dimmed by the weight of what was coming. "So, game plan," Podcast said, adjusting his goggles. "We go in, scan for any activity, and if anything tries to eat us, we blast first, ask questions later?" Phoebe shot him a look, but Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Pretty much," he muttered.

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The drive to the mine was quiet, the usual banter replaced by tense anticipation. The air grew thick with energy as you approached the entrance, the PKE meter in Phoebe’s hands crackling with intensity. You swallowed hard as Trevor reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We’ve done this before," he reminded you, his voice steady. "And we made it out alive." You nodded, but something about the air, the way the ground trembled beneath your feet, made you wonder if this time would be different. The ghosts lurking below felt stronger, more restless. Something was waiting for you.

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The tunnels were damp and cold, the darkness stretching endlessly ahead. Your flashlight flickered as you stepped carefully over loose rocks, your heart pounding in your ears. Phoebe led the way, her eyes scanning the readings, her grip tight on the PKE meter. "It’s getting stronger," she murmured. A sudden gust of icy wind blew through the cavern, and before you could react, a deep, guttural growl echoed through the tunnel. Trevor instinctively stepped in front of you, his proton pack humming to life as glowing red eyes appeared in the shadows ahead. The hunt had begun.

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The ghost lunged, its twisted form barely human, its mouth stretched into an unnatural snarl. Trevor fired first, the proton stream lighting up the cavern walls as the entity screeched in fury. You scrambled to unclip a trap from your belt, your hands shaking as you slid it into position. "Now!" Phoebe shouted, and you stomped on the pedal, activating the trap. A bright flash filled the space, the ghost screaming as it was pulled inside. Silence followed, broken only by your ragged breathing. Trevor turned to you, his face lit with exhilaration. "That," he gasped, "was awesome."

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You barely had a second to celebrate before the ground rumbled beneath you. Dust fell from the ceiling, cracks splintering along the stone walls. "That wasn’t the only one," Phoebe warned, adjusting her glasses. The PKE meter’s readings spiked wildly, and a deep, echoing voice filled the cavern. "They’re waking up," Podcast whispered, his voice laced with awe and fear. Trevor grabbed your hand, pulling you close. "No matter what happens," he said, his voice urgent, "we stick together. Got it?" You nodded, gripping his hand tightly, because deep down, you knew—this was just the beginning.

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More ghosts emerged from the darkness, their forms shifting and flickering like smoke. The air turned frigid, each breath visible in the dim light of your flashlights. Trevor fired another shot, the beam crackling as it struck a spectral figure, but there were too many of them. "We need a plan!" you shouted over the chaos. Phoebe’s eyes darted around the cavern, analyzing the scene. "We need to lure them to a choke point," she said quickly. "Somewhere we can contain them all at once!" Trevor nodded, his jaw set. "Then let’s make them chase us."

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You ran, dodging the clawing hands of spirits as they shrieked and howled behind you. The tunnel twisted and turned, the ground uneven beneath your feet. Trevor stayed close, his fingers brushing against yours as you sprinted toward a narrowing in the cavern. "Here!" Phoebe shouted, pointing to a large chamber with stone pillars. "This is it!" The ghosts swarmed closer, their hunger palpable, their glowing eyes filled with malice. Trevor turned to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Ready?" he asked, gripping his proton gun. You swallowed hard and nodded. "Let’s do this."

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The battle that followed was chaos. Beams of energy crisscrossed the chamber, illuminating the dust-filled air as ghosts twisted and shrieked, resisting capture. Trevor moved with a confidence that sent your heart racing—ducking, firing, dodging like he’d been doing this for years. Phoebe expertly tossed traps, each one snatching a spirit with a bright flash. Podcast whooped excitedly as he managed to contain a particularly nasty one. But it wasn’t enough. More kept coming, the cavern vibrating with supernatural energy. "We need to shut this down at the source!" Phoebe yelled, pointing toward an ancient-looking altar.

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The altar pulsed with eerie blue light, its symbols glowing faintly in the darkness. Trevor exchanged a look with you before tightening his grip on his weapon. "No way this thing is here by accident," he muttered. The closer you got, the heavier the air became, like something unseen was pressing down on you. You could feel the power radiating from it, the weight of centuries of dark energy trapped within the stone. "Destroy it?" you asked, glancing at Trevor. He grinned, cocking his proton gun. "Destroy it." With a synchronized blast, you and Trevor unleashed everything you had.

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The explosion of energy was blinding, sending shockwaves through the chamber as the altar cracked and crumbled. A deafening wail filled the cavern as the spirits wailed in unison, their forms flickering wildly before dissipating into nothing. You stumbled backward, shielding your face as the force of the blast sent dust and debris flying. When the light finally faded, silence followed. Your ears rang, your heartbeat wild in your chest. Then, a laugh—Trevor’s breathless, disbelieving laugh. "We actually did it," he said, turning to you with a grin. You exhaled sharply, relief washing over you. "Yeah," you agreed, smiling. "We did."

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Trevor wasted no time pulling you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of engine grease and warmth, grounding yourself in the reality that you were both still here, still alive. He pulled back just enough to press a quick, desperate kiss to your forehead, his hands framing your face. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, filled with something deeper than just concern. You nodded, your hands tightening in his jacket. "As long as I’m with you," you murmured, "I’m always okay."

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Phoebe and Podcast were already celebrating, inspecting the damage and securing the remaining ghost traps. Trevor’s fingers traced slow circles against your back, his forehead resting against yours. "You saved my ass back there," he admitted, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. You laughed, brushing some dirt from his cheek. "Yeah, well, you saved mine first," you teased. He grinned wider, leaning in until your lips were just a breath apart. "Guess that makes us even," he murmured. Then, without hesitation, he kissed you again, slow and deep, sealing the promise that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

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The drive back to the farmhouse was quieter than usual, exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. Trevor kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting against your knee, his thumb brushing absentminded circles against your skin. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only the weight of everything that had just happened. You leaned your head against the cool window, watching the dark Oklahoma fields pass by in a blur. "You still with me?" Trevor’s voice was soft, laced with exhaustion. You turned to him, offering a small smile. "Yeah," you whispered. "Just thinking about everything."

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Trevor nodded, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly. "That was… insane, right?" he said, glancing at you with wide eyes. "Like, even for us?" You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah. Definitely insane." A comfortable silence followed, filled only by the hum of Ecto-1’s engine and the occasional static from the radio. Phoebe and Podcast were asleep in the backseat, their heads lolling against each other. You reached for Trevor’s hand, lacing your fingers with his. "But we made it," you murmured, squeezing his hand. "And that’s what matters."

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By the time you got back, the sky was beginning to lighten, soft streaks of pink and orange bleeding into the horizon. Trevor parked Ecto-1 beside the barn and let out a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "I don’t know about you," he said, stretching his arms above his head, "but I am never crawling through another creepy mine ever again." You chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Please. We both know that’s a lie." He smirked, bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah, okay. But next time, I’m bringing snacks."

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Inside, the farmhouse was eerily quiet, the usual hum of ghost-detecting equipment reduced to a low buzz. Phoebe immediately went to update Callie and Gary, leaving you and Trevor standing in the dimly lit living room. You glanced at him, taking in the way his hair stuck up at odd angles, the smudges of dirt on his cheek, the exhaustion in his eyes. "You should get some sleep," you told him, though you weren’t sure you could sleep yourself. He shook his head, stepping closer. "Not yet," he murmured, reaching for your hand. "Not until I know you’re okay."

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You let him pull you toward the worn-out couch, sinking into the cushions beside him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. "You scared me back there," he admitted, his voice quiet. "When that thing almost got you, I—" He stopped, exhaling slowly, his fingers gripping your sleeve. You turned to face him, placing a hand over his. "I’m okay," you reassured him. "We’re okay." Trevor studied you for a moment before nodding, his expression softening. "Yeah," he whispered, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. "We are."

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The exhaustion finally caught up with you, and before you knew it, you were dozing off against Trevor’s shoulder. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing slow and even. He shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. "Sweet dreams," he murmured, barely audible. And for the first time in what felt like forever, with Trevor beside you, the world felt safe. The ghosts could wait. The future could wait. Because right now, in this quiet moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

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The morning sunlight filtered through the dusty farmhouse windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. You stirred first, feeling the warmth of Trevor’s arm still draped over you. His breathing was deep and even, his face peaceful in sleep. For a moment, you didn’t want to move, content to stay curled up against him, your fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his jacket. The events of the previous night felt like a fever dream—ghosts, explosions, the mine collapsing—but Trevor’s presence beside you was real. Safe. A reminder that, no matter how chaotic life became, you still had each other.

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Trevor shifted beside you, murmuring something incoherent before cracking one eye open. A slow, sleepy grin spread across his face as he realized you were watching him. "Morning," he said, his voice raspy from sleep. You smiled, brushing some of his messy hair out of his eyes. "Morning." He stretched lazily, his arm tightening around you for just a moment before he let out a long sigh. "So, what’s the plan?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes still heavy with exhaustion. You exhaled, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "Hopefully one that doesn’t involve nearly dying again."

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Before Trevor could respond, the sound of Phoebe’s voice carried through the house. "Guys, you’re gonna want to see this!" You both groaned, reluctant to leave the comfort of each other’s arms, but duty called. Trevor helped you up, his hand lingering on yours as you followed the sound of Phoebe’s voice to the kitchen. She was hunched over her laptop, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Podcast was beside her, still half-asleep, sipping a large cup of coffee. "What is it?" Trevor asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Phoebe turned the laptop toward you both, her expression serious. "The ghost activity isn’t over."

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Your stomach dropped as you stared at the readings on the screen. Energy spikes were still happening all over Summerville, smaller than before but still strong. "We destroyed the altar," Trevor said, frowning. "Shouldn’t that have stopped everything?" Phoebe adjusted her glasses, shaking her head. "It helped, but it didn’t fix everything. There’s still residual energy left behind. And if we don’t deal with it soon, we could be looking at another outbreak." You exchanged a glance with Trevor, the weight of responsibility settling over you once again. The battle might’ve been won, but the war wasn’t over.

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Callie and Gary walked into the kitchen then, their faces weary but relieved. "I heard what happened," Callie said, crossing her arms. "You kids are insane, but… thank you." Gary nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Yeah, I second that. That was some serious Ghostbusters-level stuff last night." Trevor smirked, nudging you playfully. "Guess that means we’re officially part of the family business." You rolled your eyes but smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. As much as this life was dangerous, unpredictable, and sometimes downright terrifying, there was no denying that it felt right. Like you belonged.

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Despite the lingering threat of more ghost activity, the rest of the day was slow, giving you all a much-needed chance to recover. Trevor spent most of the afternoon helping Podcast tinker with new ghost traps while you and Phoebe examined Egon’s old notes. The farmhouse felt peaceful for the first time in a while, the tension from the last few days finally easing. You found yourself watching Trevor more than usual, memorizing the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the way his nose scrunched when he was deep in thought. He caught you staring at one point and smirked. "Like what you see?" he teased.

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You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe," you admitted, crossing your arms. Trevor grinned, setting down the screwdriver in his hand. "Well, in that case…" He took a step closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. "I think you should be properly rewarded for all your hard work," he murmured, eyes twinkling with mischief. Before you could respond, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The world around you faded, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the steady beat of his heart against yours.

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When he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you let out a small laugh. "You’re such a dork," you whispered. "But you love it," he shot back, grinning. You sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately." He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before finally letting you go. The moment felt stolen, a brief reprieve from the supernatural chaos that had taken over your lives. But as you looked into Trevor’s eyes, full of warmth and unwavering devotion, you knew one thing for sure—you wouldn’t trade this life, or him, for anything.

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As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and violet, Trevor dragged you outside to the front porch. You sat together on the wooden steps, the cool evening air wrapping around you. "So," he said, nudging your knee with his. "Where do we go from here?" You thought about it for a moment, watching the horizon. "I guess we keep doing what we’re doing," you said softly. "Helping where we can. Protecting people. Figuring it all out together." Trevor smiled, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Together," he echoed, squeezing your hand. "I like the sound of that."

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The distant sound of crickets filled the silence between you, a comfortable sort of quiet settling over the porch. You leaned your head against Trevor’s shoulder, exhaling slowly. "You ever think about the future?" you asked after a moment. He was quiet for a beat before answering. "Yeah," he admitted. "More now than ever." You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued. "And?" He smiled, eyes softening. "And all I know is, as long as you’re in it, I don’t care what happens." Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth blooming deep in your chest. "Me too," you whispered.

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Trevor kissed you again, slow and sure, like he was sealing a promise. The world around you could change in an instant—ghosts could rise, new threats could emerge—but this? This was solid. Unshakable. When he pulled away, he rested his chin on top of your head, holding you close. "So, does this mean we’re officially Ghostbusters now?" he asked, grinning. You laughed, rolling your eyes. "I think we’ve earned it." He hummed in agreement, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Guess that means we better stick together, then." You smiled against his shoulder. "Always."

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The stars blinked to life above you, the wind carrying the faint hum of the PKE meter from inside. Life as a Ghostbuster wasn’t easy. There would always be another battle, another restless spirit to put to rest. But as you sat there in Trevor Spengler’s arms, wrapped in warmth and quiet certainty, you knew one thing for sure—no matter what came next, you would face it together. And that? That was all that mattered.

---

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The cool evening air settled over Summerville as you and Trevor stepped onto the farmhouse porch, the sky above painted in hues of deep violet and warm orange. The two of you had made it a habit to sit here after dinner, just enjoying each other’s company as the world quieted around you. Trevor stretched his long legs out in front of him, his hand naturally finding yours, fingers lacing together in a way that felt effortless. “Remember when we used to sit out here and talk about leaving this town?” he mused, a chuckle slipping from his lips. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, and yet here we are,” you murmured, glancing at him. His hazel eyes softened as he looked back at you. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

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There was a time when both of you thought this town was just a pit stop, a place to survive before moving on to something bigger. But now, it was home—because home wasn’t about where you were, but who you were with. Trevor squeezed your hand gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles in slow, thoughtful circles. “I think I just needed to stop looking for the next big thing,” he admitted, voice quiet against the backdrop of chirping crickets. “Because I already have everything I want right here.” Your heart swelled at his words, warmth spreading through your chest like a fire stoked by the wind. “Trevor Spengler, you’re getting all sentimental on me,” you teased, nudging him playfully. He smirked, leaning in close. “Guess you bring it out of me.”

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The porch light flickered slightly, a reminder that the house, despite all its repairs, still held its quirks. Trevor sighed, shaking his head. “I swear, this house is trying to keep us on our toes,” he muttered, standing up and stretching. You laughed, watching as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “That, or Egon’s making sure we don’t get too comfortable,” you joked, glancing at the sky as if to acknowledge the ghost of the man who had brought you both here in the first place. Trevor grinned, but there was a glint of something deeper in his eyes—respect, gratitude. “Well, if he is, I hope he knows we’re taking care of this place,” Trevor said softly. You reached for his hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I think he’d be proud.”

---

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The wind rustled through the trees as you and Trevor stood side by side, hands still intertwined. The sky had darkened into an endless stretch of navy blue, stars beginning to flicker into view like tiny beacons in the quiet night. The old wind chime Egon had left behind swayed gently, its metallic notes echoing softly in the stillness. Trevor glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “Do you ever think about what life would’ve been like if we never came here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You considered the question for a moment before shaking your head. “No,” you admitted. “Because I can’t imagine life without you. And if we hadn’t ended up in Summerville, who knows if we ever would have met?” Trevor’s lips quirked into a smile, his grip on your hand tightening. “Yeah. I guess fate had a plan for us after all.”

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You leaned into him, letting his warmth seep into your skin as the night air grew cooler. The distant hum of cicadas filled the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just peaceful. “You know,” Trevor started, his voice laced with amusement, “for a town that almost got destroyed by a god, it’s really quiet now.” You snorted, nudging him with your elbow. “I think we’ve earned the peace,” you replied. “Besides, I like it. No more proton packs, no more ancient temples, just… us.” Trevor hummed in agreement, his chin resting atop your head. “Yeah, I like that too,” he murmured. His heart beat steadily beneath your cheek, strong and reassuring, like a constant reminder that he was here—that he always would be.

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After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Trevor straightened up. “Alright, I should probably check the porch light before it decides to short-circuit completely,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. You smirked. “You just want an excuse to tinker with something.” He grinned at you, his signature playful gleam in his eyes. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But, hey, you married me knowing I can’t sit still.” You rolled your eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t electrocute yourself, Spengler.” He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before heading toward the door. As you watched him disappear inside, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. This was the life you had built together—simple, steady, and filled with love. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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You stayed outside for a few more moments, letting the breeze dance through your hair as you gazed up at the sky. The stars were endless, stretching far beyond the boundaries of what you could comprehend, yet here you were—rooted in this little town, in this life, with Trevor. The thought made you smile. You turned toward the house, stepping inside just as Trevor muttered a curse under his breath. “What did I just say about electrocuting yourself?” you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. He shot you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t that bad,” he defended. “Just a little jolt.” You sighed, walking over to him and tugging his hand toward you, inspecting his fingers. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Spengler,” you muttered, shaking your head. Trevor smirked, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. “You love it.”

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You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “Unfortunately,” you joked, only for Trevor to gasp dramatically. “Wow. Married for years, and this is how you talk to me?” He placed a hand over his heart as if wounded, but you just snorted. “Trevor, you nearly died fixing a porch light,” you reminded him. He scoffed. “That’s an exaggeration.” You raised an eyebrow, and he immediately backtracked. “Okay, maybe not, but still.” He pulled you into his arms, his familiar scent of motor oil and something undeniably him wrapping around you like a second skin. “You’d miss me too much,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed against him, letting the warmth of his embrace seep into your bones. “Yeah,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I really would.”

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Trevor held you a little tighter after that, as if he understood the weight of your words. And he did—because for all his teasing and playful antics, he knew you in a way no one else ever could. You had fought ghosts together, saved a town, rebuilt a home, and somehow, through it all, found an unshakable love. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now. “No more getting electrocuted. Promise.” You smirked. “Good. Because I’m not in the mood to call Phoebe and explain how her brother fried himself trying to fix a lightbulb.” Trevor groaned. “She’d never let me live it down.” You laughed, stepping back and taking his hand in yours. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep me warm.” You grinned, squeezing his fingers. “Always.”

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The farmhouse was quiet as you and Trevor made your way upstairs, the wooden floors creaking softly beneath your feet. The familiarity of it all—the dim lighting, the warmth of his hand in yours, the way he let you walk ahead only to pull you back into his arms halfway up the stairs—made your heart swell. “You ever get tired of this?” he murmured against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Of us?” You turned in his embrace, looping your arms around his neck. “Never,” you whispered, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. “You?” Trevor shook his head, his hazel eyes dark with something deeper than affection. “Not in a million years.”

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You smiled as he lifted you slightly, carrying you the rest of the way to your shared bedroom. The door clicked shut behind you, enclosing you both in the warmth of your little world. Trevor set you down gently, his hands settling on your waist as if he never wanted to let go. “You know,” he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin, “sometimes I think about the first time I saw you.” You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Yeah? What do you think about?” Trevor smirked, his expression turning almost boyish. “How I was such an awkward mess around you.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You weren’t that bad.” He groaned. “Oh, I was. But somehow, you still stuck around.” You leaned up, pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “Because I knew even then,” you whispered. “You were it for me, Trevor.”

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Trevor exhaled softly against your lips, his arms tightening around you. “You really mean that?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw. “I’ve always meant it,” you assured him. “Since the very beginning.” He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between your eyes like he was memorizing every word, every expression. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” you murmured, letting your forehead rest against his. Trevor’s grip on you tightened, his breath mixing with yours in the quiet intimacy of the moment. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Good thing.”

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The night stretched on in quiet comfort, the warmth of Trevor’s arms wrapped securely around you as you both lay tangled beneath the blankets. The old farmhouse groaned softly with the wind, but inside, everything was still, peaceful. Trevor traced slow circles on your back, his breathing even and steady. “You know,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, “I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” You lifted your head slightly, watching him through the dim light filtering through the curtains. “Yeah?” He nodded, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. And it’s because of you.” Your heart squeezed at his words, and you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I feel the same way.”

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Morning came far too soon, golden sunlight spilling through the windows, casting warm patterns across the sheets. You stirred first, blinking against the brightness, only to find Trevor still asleep, his face buried in the pillow. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and you had to bite back a laugh. Careful not to wake him, you ran your fingers lightly through the strands, smoothing them down. He made a small, content noise in response, his arms instinctively tightening around your waist. “Mmm, you’re not allowed to get up yet,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Trevor, the sun’s up.” He groaned. “Don’t care. Stay.” You laughed softly but didn’t argue. You could give him a few more minutes like this—wrapped up in each other, in the life you had built together.

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Eventually, you both made your way downstairs, the scent of coffee filling the kitchen as you worked together to make breakfast. Trevor leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy smile as you flipped pancakes. “You know,” he mused, “if you ever get tired of being the responsible one, I could take over.” You shot him a skeptical look. “Oh? You’re volunteering to cook?” He smirked, stepping closer. “I can cook.” You arched an eyebrow. “You burned ramen once.” Trevor groaned. “That was one time.” You laughed, shaking your head as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Face it, Spengler,” you teased. “You’re better at fixing ghost traps than you are at making breakfast.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Guess that’s why I have you.”

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Trevor stayed close as you finished cooking, his arms never fully leaving your waist, as if he was afraid to let you go. It was a small thing, but you noticed it—the way he always found a reason to touch you, to stay connected in any way he could. “Okay, breakfast is officially ready,” you announced, setting the plates down on the table. Trevor pulled out your chair before taking a seat across from you, his smile lazy but full of adoration. “I swear, if you weren’t here, I’d probably live off gas station snacks and coffee,” he admitted, stabbing a pancake with his fork. You smirked. “You did live off that when we first met.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I was half-dead from it.” He took a bite, humming in satisfaction. “You saved me in more ways than one, you know.”

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The sincerity in his voice made your heart clench, and you reached across the table, threading your fingers through his. “We saved each other,” you corrected softly. Trevor’s gaze held yours, something unspoken passing between you—gratitude, devotion, an unbreakable love. “Yeah,” he murmured, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “We really did.” The moment lingered, warm and full, before he cleared his throat and smirked. “But just so you know, if you ever get tired of me, I can survive on my own now. I’ve grown as a person.” You snorted. “Oh? And when was the last time you made something that didn’t come out of a vending machine?” Trevor paused, squinting. “Uh… I made toast last week.” You groaned, laughing as he grinned proudly. “See? Totally self-sufficient.”

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The rest of the morning passed in easy conversation and quiet moments, the kind of simplicity that made every day with Trevor feel special. After cleaning up, you both ended up outside, taking a walk through the fields behind the farmhouse. The wind was warm, carrying the scent of earth and summer, and Trevor’s fingers brushed against yours as you strolled side by side. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he admitted after a moment, glancing at you. “Oh?” You tilted your head. “What’s on that genius brain of yours?” He chuckled, but there was a hint of nervousness in his expression. “Just… how much life has changed since we got here. And how I don’t want to spend another day without you.” Your heart skipped a beat, and you stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “Trevor—” He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around yours. “I mean it,” he said softly. “I don’t ever want to lose this. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

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A breath caught in your throat as Trevor reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and hidden within his palm. The world around you seemed to slow as he took a deep breath, hazel eyes locked onto yours. “I was gonna wait,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. “Make some big plan, maybe even ask Phoebe for advice, but… I can’t. I don’t want to wait.” He slowly dropped to one knee, and your hands flew to your mouth, your heart slamming against your ribs. “I love you,” he said, voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I have since the second I met you. And I want to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you, laughing with you, fixing old cars and hunting ghosts and—just being with you.” He opened his hand, revealing a simple but stunning ring. “So… will you marry me?”

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Tears pricked your eyes, your breath shaky as you stared at the man who had become your entire world. For a moment, words escaped you, lost somewhere between overwhelming love and the sheer gravity of what was happening. Trevor, ever patient, simply watched you, waiting, his lips twitching into a nervous smile. And then, before you could even think, you were nodding—frantically, desperately—before throwing yourself into his arms. “Yes,” you whispered against his shoulder, voice thick with emotion. “Yes, Trevor. A million times, yes.” His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you so tightly it was as if he never planned to let go. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, fast and unsteady, but so full of happiness it nearly made you dizzy. “You just made me the happiest guy in the universe,” he breathed against your skin, pressing kisses to your hair, your cheek, your lips. And as you melted into him, into the warmth and love of the moment, you knew without a doubt—this was where you were always meant to be.

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Trevor pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world. His hazel eyes shone with something deeper than happiness—something unshakable, something forever. “You really mean it?” he asked, as if he still couldn’t believe this was real. You laughed through your tears, cupping his face in return. “Of course, I do, you idiot,” you teased, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “Did you really think I’d say no?” Trevor exhaled a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “No, but I guess a part of me thought this was too good to be true.” You kissed him then, slow and sweet, letting him feel just how much you meant every single word. “It’s real,” you murmured against his lips. “We’re real.”

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Trevor let out a deep, shuddering breath before slipping the ring onto your finger, his hands slightly unsteady but his smile unwavering. The band fit perfectly, simple yet beautiful, just like the love you shared. “Holy shit,” he muttered, staring at your hand as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. “You’re gonna be my wife.” The words sent a new wave of warmth through your chest, and you grinned, wiggling your fingers so the ring caught the sunlight. “Yeah, Spengler,” you teased, nudging him. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.” He laughed, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more certain. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmured against your lips, and you felt those words settle into your bones, true and everlasting.

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You spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped up in each other, lying in the tall grass behind the farmhouse, watching the sky shift from bright blue to soft orange. Trevor held your hand the entire time, his thumb absently tracing over the ring like he still needed to convince himself it was real. “You know Phoebe’s gonna have a field day with this,” he mused, glancing over at you with a smirk. You groaned, covering your face with your free hand. “She’s never gonna let us hear the end of it, is she?” Trevor chuckled. “Nope. She’ll probably analyze the ring, run some calculations on the statistical probability of our marriage lasting a lifetime.” He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Which, by the way, is a hundred percent.” You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at his words. “Damn right it is.”

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As the sky darkened and the first stars flickered into view, you and Trevor finally made your way back inside. The farmhouse felt different now, warmer, more alive—as if it somehow knew what had just happened. You curled up on the couch together, your head resting on Trevor’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “So,” he murmured, his fingers playing with yours, “when do we tell everyone?” You thought for a moment, letting the weight of the day settle into your bones. “Tomorrow,” you decided. “Tonight, I just want it to be ours.” Trevor smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I like the sound of that.” His arms tightened around you, and for the first time in your life, everything felt perfectly, undeniably right.

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The quiet hum of the night surrounded you both, the steady rise and fall of Trevor’s breathing lulling you into a peaceful daze. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, a mindless habit he’d picked up over the years, as if he needed to remind himself you were real. “You know,” he murmured, voice low and warm against your hair, “I never really believed in fate before. But then I met you.” You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Oh? And what do you believe in now?” Trevor chuckled, his hazel eyes glowing in the dim light. “I believe in us.” Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice, and without thinking, you reached up to kiss him, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of love into the moment. He sighed against your lips, his grip tightening around you. “Yeah,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Definitely fate.”

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The next morning, you woke to the smell of coffee and something vaguely resembling breakfast. You stretched, blinking against the golden morning light streaming through the curtains, only to realize Trevor was missing from the bed. Curious, you slipped out from under the covers, padding downstairs to find him in the kitchen. He stood at the stove, hair a complete mess, spatula in one hand and a look of deep concentration on his face. “Oh no,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re cooking again?” Trevor spun around, his expression caught between pride and mild panic. “I’m trying,” he defended, motioning to the slightly overcooked pancakes. “I figured, you know, since we’re engaged now, I should start pulling my weight in the kitchen.” You smirked, stepping closer to inspect the damage. “Spengler, this is adorable, but you’re still banned from cooking without supervision.” He groaned dramatically, but when you kissed his cheek, he grinned. “Fine, but I’m still making you coffee.”

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After a mostly edible breakfast, you and Trevor sat on the porch, sipping coffee and enjoying the crisp morning air. The golden fields stretched endlessly before you, the familiar sight filling you with a sense of home. Trevor glanced at you over his mug, his expression softer now. “So, today’s the day we tell everyone?” he asked. You nodded, taking another sip. “Yeah. Think they’ll be surprised?” Trevor snorted. “Phoebe? No. Lucky? Maybe a little. Mom? She’ll pretend she knew all along.” You laughed, knowing he was absolutely right. “Well, at least no one will try to talk us out of it.” Trevor reached over, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Like anyone could,” he murmured. “We’re in this forever, no matter what.” The certainty in his voice sent warmth spreading through your chest, and you squeezed his hand in return. “Forever,” you echoed.

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Later that afternoon, you and Trevor made your way into town, nerves buzzing under your skin despite the certainty in your heart. You had planned to meet everyone at the diner, the usual spot where late-night milkshakes and post-ghost-hunting debriefs had turned into a tradition. The moment you walked in, Lucky waved you both over, her sharp eyes instantly narrowing. “Alright,” she said, setting her drink down. “What’s with the look?” Phoebe, sitting beside her, barely glanced up from the gadget she was tinkering with. “They’re engaged,” she said matter-of-factly. The table went silent. Trevor choked on his soda. “Phoebe!” You gaped at her, but she simply adjusted her glasses, unfazed. “What? It was obvious. You’ve both been disgustingly in love for years.” Lucky burst into laughter while Trevor groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I wanted to tell you guys, not get called out like this,” he muttered.

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Despite the unceremonious reveal, the congratulations poured in quickly. Lucky grinned, clapping you both on the back. “Well, it’s about damn time,” she said, raising her milkshake in a toast. Callie and Gary, who had just arrived, blinked at you both before exchanging knowing smiles. “I knew it,” Callie said smugly, pulling you into a tight hug. “You two have been orbiting each other since day one.” Gary nodded. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t get engaged sooner.” Trevor groaned again, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Even Janine, who had stopped by for her usual coffee, gave Trevor a pointed look. “You better take care of them,” she warned, though there was warmth in her voice. He grinned, pulling you closer. “Always.”

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That night, after all the excitement had settled, you and Trevor returned to the farmhouse, exhausted but happy. You kicked off your shoes, sighing in relief as you flopped onto the couch. “Well,” you said, stretching your arms above your head, “that could’ve been worse.” Trevor smirked, sitting beside you. “Could’ve been better, too.” You laughed, leaning against him. “Yeah, but it’s us. Nothing ever goes as planned.” He wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “True. But as long as I’ve got you, I wouldn’t change a thing.” You sighed, nestling into his warmth, and as the night settled around you, you realized something. This was just the beginning—the start of forever with the man you loved. And nothing had ever felt more right.

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The days following your engagement passed in a whirlwind of excitement, congratulations, and the inevitable chaos that came with wedding planning. You and Trevor hadn’t even set a date yet, but that didn’t stop Lucky from immediately offering to be your maid of honor, Phoebe from analyzing the structural integrity of wedding venues, or Callie from getting misty-eyed at the thought of her son getting married. “I feel like I just got used to you two dating,” she admitted one evening over dinner. “And now you’re getting married. Time really does fly.” Trevor, ever the mama’s boy, squeezed her hand with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You watched the exchange with a warm heart, loving the way Trevor could balance humor with genuine love so effortlessly.

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Despite the excitement, you and Trevor quickly realized that wedding planning was... overwhelming. “Okay,” he sighed, dropping a massive binder onto the kitchen table. “We’ve got venues, catering, music, and—oh my God, do we have to pick flowers?” You stifled a laugh, flipping through the pages. “Unless you want our wedding to be in a completely sterile, flower-free environment.” Trevor groaned. “I don’t even know the difference between half these flowers. What is a ranunculus?” You smirked. “It’s pretty. That’s all you need to know.” He slumped forward dramatically. “This is so much work. Can’t we just elope?” You considered it for half a second before shaking your head. “No way. We fought ghosts together, Trevor. We can survive wedding planning.” He sighed but grinned. “Fine. But you get to deal with the flower people.”

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You spent one lazy afternoon sprawled across the couch, discussing wedding details in a much more relaxed fashion. “Alright,” Trevor mused, twirling a pen between his fingers. “If you could pick anywhere to get married, no restrictions, where would it be?” You thought for a moment, then smiled. “Somewhere meaningful. Somewhere that feels like us.” Trevor nodded, considering. “The farmhouse?” You shook your head. “Too small. But… what about outside? Somewhere with open fields and a beautiful sky?” Trevor’s eyes lit up. “Like where we got engaged?” The idea settled between you, perfect in its simplicity. “Yeah,” you murmured. “That’s the place.” He grinned, leaning in to kiss you. “Then that’s where we’ll do it.”

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Once the venue was decided, things started falling into place. Lucky took charge of organizing the reception (“You two are helpless, so just let me handle this”), Phoebe set up a sound system with way more technical specs than necessary, and Callie, of course, made sure everything was running smoothly. You and Trevor focused on the little things—like picking out rings together. “You’re gonna wear this forever,” he pointed out as you browsed. “No pressure or anything.” You rolled your eyes. “Gee, thanks, Spengler.” He chuckled before selecting a simple, elegant band. “This one,” he decided. “It reminds me of you.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Then that’s the one,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

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The closer the wedding got, the more real it all felt. One night, just a week before the big day, you found yourself sitting outside with Trevor, watching the stars. “You nervous?” he asked, his voice soft. You considered the question before shaking your head. “No. I’m excited.” Trevor exhaled, as if relieved. “Me too.” He shifted, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “I keep thinking about the first time I saw you. How everything in my life changed that day.” You smiled, leaning into him. “Changed for the better?” He laughed. “Obviously.” His lips ghosted over your temple. “I love you. And I can’t wait to spend forever proving it.” You sighed contentedly, already knowing—forever with Trevor was going to be the best adventure of all.

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The night before the wedding was a mix of nerves, excitement, and last-minute preparations. Lucky had dragged you away for what she dramatically called “one final night of freedom,” which really just meant watching movies and eating junk food. “So,” she mused, tossing a piece of popcorn at you. “No regrets?” You snorted. “Lucky, I’m marrying the love of my life tomorrow. No, I have zero regrets.” She grinned, raising her soda in a mock toast. “Good. Because if you did, I’d have to smack some sense into you.” You laughed, knowing that even if you had any doubts—not that you did—Lucky would never let you wallow in them. “So, what’s Trevor doing tonight?” she asked. You smiled at the thought. “Probably freaking out about his vows.”

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Meanwhile, Trevor was freaking out. “I know what I want to say,” he groaned, pacing around his childhood bedroom. “But every time I try to write it down, it sounds stupid.” Phoebe, lying on his bed with her nose buried in a book, didn’t look up. “You’re overthinking it.” He huffed. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to stand in front of everyone tomorrow and pour your heart out.” She flipped a page. “If it’s your heart, then it won’t be stupid.” Trevor paused, blinking. “That’s… actually really good advice.” She smirked. “Yeah, I’m kind of a genius.” He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Thanks, Pheebs.” She simply gave him a thumbs-up and went back to her book.

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Morning came faster than you expected. As you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the final touches of your outfit, you took a deep breath. This was it. The start of forever. Lucky appeared behind you, adjusting your veil (or lack thereof, since you opted for something simpler). “You ready?” she asked, her voice softer than usual. You met her gaze in the mirror and smiled. “More than ever.” She grinned. “Good. Because Trevor looks like he’s barely holding it together.” Your heart swelled at the thought. “Guess I better go save him, then.”

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Trevor stood at the altar—if you could call the beautifully decorated field an altar—fidgeting slightly but grinning like an idiot. When he finally saw you, all the nerves seemed to melt away. His breath hitched, his eyes softening as you walked toward him. “Wow,” he murmured under his breath, barely loud enough for only you to hear. “You look…” He shook his head, smiling in awe. “Perfect.” You laughed softly. “So do you.” The officiant cleared his throat, and Trevor snapped out of his daze, squeezing your hands as the ceremony began.

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Everything else faded as you stood there, exchanging vows that came straight from the heart. Trevor’s voice was steady, filled with so much love that you felt it settle deep in your bones. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I promise to spend every day making sure you never regret choosing me.” Tears pricked your eyes as you whispered your own promises, vowing to love him for all that he was and all that he would ever be. When the officiant finally said, “You may now kiss,” Trevor didn’t hesitate. He pulled you in, kissing you with every ounce of love he had, sealing your forever with a promise unspoken but deeply felt—you were his, and he was yours, always.

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As Trevor kissed you, the world around you disappeared. It was just the two of you, bound together by love, by time, by everything that had brought you here. When you finally pulled away, breathless and beaming, the sound of applause broke through the moment. Lucky was cheering the loudest, while Phoebe simply nodded in satisfaction, as if she had predicted this exact outcome. Callie wiped at her eyes, smiling proudly at her son, while Gary gave Trevor a thumbs-up. “Well,” Trevor murmured, his forehead resting against yours, “we did it.” You grinned, squeezing his hands. “Yeah, we did.” And as the sun shone down on you both, you knew—this was just the beginning.

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The reception was everything you had hoped for—warm, joyful, and filled with laughter. Lucky had outdone herself with the setup, stringing up lights that cast a golden glow over the field. Tables were set up with simple yet beautiful decorations, and the music—carefully curated by Phoebe—was the perfect mix of nostalgic and celebratory. Trevor refused to leave your side, always keeping a hand on your waist or fingers intertwined with yours. “You realize you’re stuck with me now, right?” he teased as you both swayed to the music. You smirked, resting your head against his chest. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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Dinner was filled with heartfelt toasts, some more emotional than others. Callie spoke first, reminiscing about the boy who had once rolled his eyes at responsibility but had grown into someone strong, kind, and capable of deep love. “I knew he’d find someone special,” she said, raising her glass. “But I never imagined he’d be this lucky.” Trevor, visibly touched, wiped at his eye before muttering, “Jeez, Mom, you’re gonna make me cry.” Lucky was up next, keeping things light. “Alright, let’s be real,” she began. “We all knew this was happening ages ago.” She grinned, throwing an arm around you. “But seriously, I’ve never seen two people more disgustingly perfect for each other.” Trevor groaned, but you just laughed, feeling the warmth of love from everyone around you.

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Phoebe’s toast, however, was what truly hit home. “Trevor’s always been my annoying older brother,” she started, adjusting her glasses. “But he’s also been someone I could count on. And when I met you,” she said, looking at you, “I realized that he had finally found someone he could count on, too.” The room fell quiet as she continued. “You make him better. And he makes you better. And that’s how I know this is real.” Trevor sniffed dramatically. “Damn it, Phoebe.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

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As the night stretched on, you found yourself standing under the stars with Trevor, away from the noise and celebration. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both soaked in the moment. “You happy?” he asked softly. You turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. “More than I ever thought possible.” He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good. Because I plan on keeping it that way. Forever.” The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with love. “Forever,” you echoed, pulling him in for another kiss, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you’d always have each other.

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The night air was crisp, wrapping around you both as you lingered beneath the glow of the string lights. The reception carried on behind you—laughter, music, the occasional clinking of glasses—but here, in Trevor’s arms, everything was quiet. “Kinda crazy, huh?” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “One minute, we’re awkwardly flirting over proton packs, and now…” You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Now we’re awkwardly married.” Trevor barked out a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Damn right we are.” He kissed you, slow and lingering, as if grounding himself in the reality of it all. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

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Eventually, the reception began winding down, guests slowly trickling out with hugs and well wishes. Callie pulled Trevor into one last tight embrace, whispering something into his ear that made him nod, his expression soft. “Take care of each other,” she said, her eyes warm as she looked between you both. “Always,” you promised, and she smiled before letting you go. Lucky, of course, refused to leave without making one last joke. “So, when do I get to make fun of Trevor for being a married man?” she teased. “Starting tomorrow, or do we give him a week?” Trevor groaned. “Can I have one day of peace?” Lucky just grinned. “Nope. That’s what you get for making me watch you be in love all these years.”

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As the final guests departed, you and Trevor remained, standing hand in hand in the empty field. The lights twinkled overhead, the remnants of your wedding day scattered around you like echoes of a dream. “Well,” Trevor mused, rocking back on his heels. “That was the best day of my life.” You squeezed his fingers. “Mine too.” He turned to you, eyes filled with something deep and unwavering. “Hey. We really did it.” You laughed softly. “Yeah, we did.” His arms wrapped around you, drawing you close, and in that moment, the weight of everything—the love, the years leading up to this, the forever stretching ahead—settled into place.

PH 99

The two of you didn’t rush home. Instead, you walked slowly, the night stretching long and quiet around you. The farmhouse stood in the distance, warm light glowing through the windows, welcoming you into the life you had built together. Trevor squeezed your hand as you approached the door. “You ready for this?” he asked, though the grin on his face showed he already knew the answer. You stepped inside, taking in the familiar space—the place that had held so many of your memories, and now, the beginning of your next chapter. Turning to Trevor, you smiled. “I’ve never been more ready.”

Ph100

Trevor pulled you into one last kiss, slow and tender, sealing the moment in time. “Welcome home, Mrs. Spengler,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?” He smirked. “Not a chance.” Laughter bubbled between you as he scooped you up, carrying you through the threshold like something out of a movie. “You know, I always figured love would be complicated,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But with you, it’s the easiest thing in the world.” You rested your forehead against his, heart full, future bright. “Then let’s make forever last.” And with that, the door closed behind you, the night whispering promises of everything yet to come.

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kg-clark-inthedark · 7 months ago

Note

About the asking game - I'd like to know the answers on 27 and 28! But also I'm curious about 5, if that's not too much 😅

27 - your favorite part of the writing process

Editing my beloved!! I feel like that’s the point at which my writing actually comes to life. Correcting and rewriting my own work feels effortless and fun, and it’s when my writers voice begins to take shape within my work.

28 - your least favorite part of the writing process

First draft. Uuughh. Writing my novel-length outlines is easy but once it comes time to translate that to story, it’s a huge mental labor. Really gotta lock in during that phase. This is when I often come to realize that certain ideas in my outline don’t work in practice, and then I’m left coming up with new ideas on the fly as I’m writing. Though they usually end up being the best parts of my fics though, so overall it’s a net positive, I just suffer in the process lmao.

For instance, in ch 14 of beyond the spheres that whole passage about Alastor reading in the library at Shindearey Peak and feeling empathy for the Outsider, I pulled that out of my ass bc something else I had planned for that ch wasn’t working. Turned out to be the fave part of that chapter for most commenters, and mine as well! So even though I hate this part of my writing process, I don’t plan on making any changes to how I go about it since I’m always happy with the end result.

5 - first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

Outside my window a blanket of dark clouds roars its way across the sky, and if not for the circumstances I’d likely give a damn that it’s my first time witnessing a storm.

(From the next ch of beyond the spheres. Don’t have any other fics in the works at this moment!)

#fic writer ask game #thatswhatido28 #thanks for the ask! <3

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thecoffeelorian · 1 year ago

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Okay, and hello there! *tentative waves*

Firstly, thank you for your detailed response to mine, as I've been a little afraid that fandom discussions are no longer allowed in the 21st century...but it's good to see this hasn't happened yet, so here I go.

Second, if I can expound on what I said before without rambling too much or making zero sense, I'd love to discuss this...if I end up failing miserably in this, though, you can go ahead and ignore me after this paragraph, and I'll just delete this conversation later today. 😅 Anyways, before I get too distracted...

"They have never, ever treated Crosshair as expendable."

If this is so, I'd like to know what made them all so enraged that they would start giving away his belongings to someone else in the beginning (the commlink being a great example) and pretty much seeming to forget all about him way before the midpoint of Season 1, complete with barely bringing him up for more than ten seconds, and even then, not until his weapons kit just happens to get knocked over...then, after hinting in the course of a few more limited interactions that Crosshair was the one thing keeping the rest of the title cast from an uninterrupted life of odd jobs from Cid and their Mantell Mix servings afterward, even to the point of being ready to open fire with something other than the stun setting after he saves Omega from drowning, thus very nearly confirming that underlying vibe I received from those first 16 episodes and that the first assassination of an Imperial officer was about to take place...did they do a confusing about-face ten seconds afterward on the platform, and start trying to get him to leave with them when...they still wanted him out of their lives ten seconds before the platform scene started, and were fully ready to use their blasters to make it happen.

This has been my main problem from the beginning, and since the show itself has just tried to gloss this part over with what looks like a few convenient sermons to the audience rather than have someone like Omega call the others back to that sequence in a conversation, and/or ask them why they had their blasters pointed at Crosshair right before she was pulled out of the water...yeah, I guess getting another fan's take on it would be great, because it sure left me in the dust out of confusion and frustration. Anyways, moving on.

"Remember that Hunter and the rest of his brothers have no idea when Crosshair's inhibitor chip was removed."

Yes, I do remember this...but even after three whole years of this show going on in real time and it taking place over the course of one year, nobody in the title cast or the audience still knows anything, other than a change in Crosshair's behavior (to quote the interviews, which seem to fill in the gaps for TBB even though they should be filled in during the actual episodes)...and the strange addition of him still getting headaches and having something poking out of the side of his head when, technically, neither should have been there after 1x12, after the procedure was taken care of. Instead, though, there's this image to talk about:

In other words, a weird gesture and animation style from somebody who supposedly has nothing in their heads, but anyways, moving on.

"And, even with Crosshair still being cagey, Hunter accepts the little Crosshair is willing to tell him and they move on."

Here's another difference of opinion I'm going to add to, if I may--Hunter's attempt at comfort was done in the context of, even if Crosshair was apologizing at that point, Mayday still being part of the enemy forces and therefore possibly becoming a taboo subject, since culturally, the Clone Troopers in general (to my knowledge) aren't supposed to have anything but zero sympathy for the other side, as proven by Echo's objections to helping a Separatist official evacuate his planet ahead of an Imperial takeover.

In less wordy terms, I think Hunter's response was more along the lines of "I know you're upset, but don't let your ties to this enemy soldier cloud your later judgment, especially if we end up fighting them in the end" rather than really accepting anything that Crosshair was trying to tell him.

I remember that Saw Gerrera himself foreshadowed a Clone Civil War in the pilot, too, so that just might be a future plot point in "Tales of the Empire" if all the clone guys don't suddenly disappear in the TBB finale of finales. They certainly had a wide open window to get this fight started in season 2, because all the animosity between the Batch and the regular Troopers/Crosshair was there...yet for some undisclosed reason, they never acted on their own obvious feelings. Nevertheless, my theories don't always come true if at all, though, so moving on again here.

"The only other time Crosshair is the recipient of a disapproving glare is when Omega is captured again and Hunter learns that Crosshair had been withholding critical information from them. And once Crosshair explains, the disapproval is gone."

...And this is going to be the third point I hope to make, because if the deal is that nobody allows anything bad to happen to Omega, even if it's supposedly her master plan to set a trap for the Empire...it's therefore my understanding that having physical reactions over returning to the scene of one's trauma is suggested to be forbidden, not just because of the death glare shown below, but also because I fear that Crosshair's about to be seen as little else than dead weight, and therefore a total liability, against getting Omega back from her latest kidnapping plot in a long line of kidnapping plots.

In this context, I myself see no change in Hunter, other than a mixture of "How dare you bring up your issues now" and "Aw, but I WANTED to punish you and now I can't" sort of expression...but let's agree to disagree.

"And any down time they had was never tied to the fact that Crosshair wasn't there."

Actually, since this is point #5 for me...it was, and is, my understanding that the Batch could not only do quite a lot of fun things now that Crosshair wasn't looking over their shoulder, but that all those games and snacks take up a huge focus of the first two seasons. For example, there was a huge emphasis on the Mantell Mix, especially in the episode "Battle Scars"...but where is it now that all the side quests/imaginary missions are gone, and the actual real work will be done at the last minute long after his supposed return...?

Also, it's my understanding that they could do a lot of board games without Crosshair being present, especially in the episodes "Common Ground" and "War Mantle". For example, when in any part of Seasons 2 or 3 did we see Wrecker or Hunter doing this...?

And third, 3 of the 6-member title cast got to attend the Riot Races during Crosshair's absence, but the moment he returned to Pabu, the only real activity shown was...meditation practice, and not any of the things that this crew has done in the past.

In other words, zero snacks, zero board games, and zero Riot Races have occurred after "The Return" episode...almost like he took those experiences away from everyone else in the beginning; they regained everything they were denied in the first two seasons without him; then, finally, when he barely gets out of a deadly situation with his life, once again the fun and games are gone and the narrative is now being silently bitter about the whole thing, but refuses to make a formal complaint even though it has the complete freedom to do so...or at least, that's the negative vibe I'm starting to get after watching the first season and observing the next two through transcripts and screencaps.

Anyways, there still is one more episode to go, don't get me wrong, and a part of me still hopes I'll be surprised somehow...but did any of my points make sense here? I'm asking this because I know I didn't do a very good job in public speaking class back in the day, and I have a feeling I'd be a lousy debater as well, so...if I don't end up getting any answers later on this week, I'll probably figure out that it's because of something I typed incorrectly, and I'll most likely end up deleting this if that's the case. ^^;

However, if anything I've written just now does make some sense after all, or if I did well on some points and lousy on others, I'll either go back and fix them or just plain wait to see your response. So again, thank you for your consideration, and I hope you have a great day no matter what. :)

It took 2 people to fully convince Crosshair to do a 180 on the Empire - but neither of those people were Bad Batch members.

They couldn't be. What would a squad of defective clones who had been disobeying orders since day 1 know about loyalty to an institution determined to establish order for the good of the galaxy? What would they know about finding purpose in being "good soldiers"?

Now, I DO think the seeds of Crosshair's eventual defection were planted by his brothers. Hunter pointing out that "Blind allegiance makes you a pawn" and then telling Crosshair "All you'll ever be to them is a number" are statements that are proven later to be true. But it takes Cody and Mayday to drive the lessons home.

Cody and Mayday share several characteristics that place them in unique positions to influence Crosshair:

Both are regs who accepted and befriended Crosshair - Cody says he specifically asked for Crosshair for the mission, and Mayday is upfront and friendly to Crosshair right from the start. (Contrast this to the other regs getting up to move tables when Crosshair sits to eat, or the other clone troopers who walk past Crosshair to get onto the shuttle without even sparing him a glance.)

Both are commanders. (I believe Crosshair ultimately respects authority for the most part: even when he was arguing with and challenging Hunter in "Aftermath," he still deferred to Hunter's orders until his inhibitor chip was intensified and he was then promoted to commander.)

Both are loyal soldiers who have served the Empire well - again, these regs are still commanders even under the new government. And we all know how important loyalty to the Empire is to Crosshair at this point.

Both save Crosshair's life during their missions.

In short, both are regs, but they are still soldiers Crosshair can quickly identify with and trust.

I think it's key that Crosshair encountered Cody before Mayday, though. And despite their similarities, both soldiers drive home different points.

CODY

Cody is one of the few regs we know Crosshair already respected - and still respects, given that Crosshair almost smiles when he recognizes him.

(Some proof in case it isn't apparent: Crosshair goes from frowny face...

...to relaxed almost-happy-if-you-squint-just-right face)

Anyway, while Cody does drop some hints early on that he has doubts about the Empire, he is willing to carry out the mission to rescue "Governor" Grotton, showing he will follow orders to a certain extent. However, he shows more restraint than Crosshair might have: he doesn't attack the civilians despite their obvious mistrust of the soldiers, he comes to an understanding with Tawni Ames, he's NOT willing to follow an order to execute her, and he is clearly dismayed and disappointed by her death.

And so, at the end of a "successful" mission, Cody more plainly reveals the depth of his dissatisfaction with following orders against one's own moral scruples:

Hunter had said "Blind allegiance makes you a pawn." And Cody, unwilling to blindly and unquestioningly be a pawn - or act like a battle droid - any longer, goes AWOL.

But that lesson alone isn't enough to make Crosshair turn on the Empire. Instead, he needs Mayday to give him the final push.

MAYDAY

First, Mayday indicates how appalled he is by the idea of anyone leaving their own behind - which we know is a sore spot for Crosshair. But most importantly, Mayday has demonstrated since he was first introduced that he strongly believes in soldiers being loyal to and looking out for each other (which is far different than just being loyal to the Empire).

Second, Mayday unknowingly challenges Crosshair's belief that serving the Empire provides meaningful purpose. (Remember that one of Crosshair's main arguments to his brothers about joining the Empire was so they could "find purpose again.")

Then, he unwittingly goes for the jugular and rips apart the motto Crosshair had adopted.

And then, in case Crosshair has any lingering doubts about the answer to Mayday's rhetorical question, Nolan decidedly answers the question for him.

Hunter had said "All you'll ever be to them is a number," and he is proven right in the most heartbreaking way.

Crosshair had accused his brothers of not being loyal to him; unfortunately, now he sees what true disloyalty looks like. And for Crosshair - severe and unyielding - realizing that he has misplaced his loyalty by giving it to an entity that mocks him and casts him aside for doing so... this is the final straw.

Thankfully, Crosshair has now rediscovered the people who are worthy of his loyalty.

#the bad batch #tbb: series analysis #tbb: coffee analyzes things #or...tbb: if crosshair's always the problem...why keep him around?

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theneighborhoodwatch · 2 years ago

Note

ramble about wally & home's codependent swag. do it. you know you want to /lh

sorry for sitting so long on this one, anon. it's good to let thoughts Ferment sometimes. anyway - [pulls up a chair to sit down on it backwards, facing you]

so, the way i see it: it all comes back to home, yeah? home is not just the house - home is also the name of the town, it is very likely the town itself, and that town may be (as far as we know) the entire world. the very Concept of the home been discussed by clown as a central theme of welcome home a few times on his blog. when i say that home is everything, i do mean everything, and i don't think there's anyone for whom that rings more true than wally.

i know i link back to my older posts a lot, but i swear this one is relevant bc i wanna elaborate on a point that i make in the first half of it: the way i see it (as of the time of this writing) home, in all senses of the word, is wally's top priority. which is not to say that his devotion towards home supersedes everything else, but that everything else sort of feeds back into it by design. the neighbors? they are there to inhabit home. we, the audience? we are there to perceive home and round out its population. the WHRP*? they said it themselves - they're there to make that fucking house a home. home is everything, and in turn, everything is for the sake of preserving home. wally cares for his neighbors, and he cares for Us, but would either of those still be the case if there was no home to preserve? i'm not sure.

there is a catch to this, though. of course there is. wally's identity already seems tied pretty heavily to other people; he learns from his neighbors, and he does so on the audience's behalf. given everything i've written in the above paragraph, this can arguably be an extension of his devotion to home, however genuine those relationships may be in their own right. in other words, home (more specifically the restoration/preservation of home) is not only wally's chief motivation, but as far as he's concerned, the reason he exists at all. i think a lot about these tags that @pretty-in-possible (hope you don't mind the tag) left on a post of mine describing their image of wally:

and i had something very similar in mind. if wally's goal truly is the restoration/preservation of home - in this context, his raison d'être, the basis for his entire sense of self - then i can imagine why he would be willing to follow his original role as closely as he could even 50 years after the end of the original show. i can imagine that outgrowing that role in any capacity would feel like a sin. i can imagine that watching his friends outgrow theirs, or at least express a desire to do so, would seem extremely reckless to him, if not an outright betrayal.

("wait," you might say. "doesn't tampering with the site technically count as him adapting/evolving past his original role as audience surrogate?" "yes 8]" i would say. i would not elaborate, and then we would move on.)

i've mostly been talking about wally's side of things, and the reason for that is mostly that wally is just easier to speculate about. home is such a mystery that some people aren't even sure if they're the same being that was on the original show; i've seen people posit that whatever home is now, it is Not what they were originally, either that they're undead or that they've since become a husk for Something Else to inhabit, or some third thing i'm forgetting. either way, i think it's interesting that as attached as wally is to home, even he doesn't seem to be able to assess whatever their needs are with 100% accuracy - if the duet audio is to be believed, there's at least Some guesswork involved. who's to say that wally isn't just hearing what he wants to hear, at least some of the time?

i wonder - how does home feel about being an Embodiment, not of just the town, but of the very word "home?" are they frustrated with the fact that even wally, their own inhabitant, can never fully understand them, and has become resentful? do they appreciate the effort regardless, but feel a growing impatience gnawing at them day by day? are they apathetic at best towards wally, but need him to fulfill some goal or another, since they're an inanimate building? either way, i can't help but feel that home also relies on wally in some way; perhaps not as heavily as he relies on them, perhaps not in the same way or for the same reasons. but there is something Mutual there, i think.

tl;dr: these two are hurtling towards disaster and i, for one, cannot wait to see every last bit of it. here are two songs that remind me of them every time i hear them, the realization of which is often accompanied by guttural wailing.

* wally doesn't seem to have any strong feelings towards the WHRP team outside of maybe sharing the same motivation as them (i.e. restoration) but this may be because he's either hiding from them and also doesn't seem like the kind of guy to Express negative emotions, or he because he is the WHRP team - we'll see how things shake out.

#anonymous #ask #welcome home #wh speculation #wally darling #home #finally. it's been a while since i've been publicly unwell on this blog

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 2 years ago

Text

I have never loved a fictional family more than I love them 💜💙🖤💚 and trying to express just how much I love them, my mind comes out blank. Because there's not enough words in any language to explain how important these characters had become to me in the past 4 years. But more about that tomorrow.

This is the first time in my life as a fangirl that I have been this involved and invested in a fandom. First time I've made such wonderful friends in the online space, first time I've felt like I've finally belonged somewhere. So, with less than a day until the end of this beautiful journey, I just want to say, thank you.

For the laughs. The inside jokes. The screaming and plotting and crying. For the art, the gifs, the fics, every bit of creative genius this show had pulled from us. For the late hours I've spent laughing at my phone so hard my cheeks hurt and for the days a paragraph in a fic made me scream into my pillow. For taking the time reading what I've written and all the biggest and the smallest reviews left under it. For the cheers and pettiness and genius minds thinking alike. For the good days and the bad days. For everything and more.

You've made my time in this fandom so special. I wouldn't trade it for anything else. Just like our beloved family, we found each other and created something incredible. Our own little family. We stayed strong through thick and thin. And I'm sobbing as I'm writing this but I feel so so so grateful. I wish I could gather you all in one room and hug you all.

@wonderbatwayne @ambeauty @escapism-through-imagination @meetmeunderthestarrynight - my Queens. My TBS. I don't have words to fully express what your friendship means to me. I haven't met such wonderful, incredible, amazing, beautiful ladies yet irl and unless we ever by some miracle see each other face to face, I don't think I ever will. Your passion for the things you love, your dedication and hearts so full of love and fire and genius are hard to come by. I've learned so much from each one of you. Thank you for your openness, your honesty, your compassion, everything. Let's celebrate this end of an era the way only we can do 🥂

@legendsofentity thank you for sharing your love for Dick&Rach with me, for making me smile with your cute headcanons and being excited with me over the littlest things. It might seem like nothing but it means absolutely everything to me.

@undertheknightwing my writing twin 😂 the Gar to my Rachel. We've always supported each other, sometimes up close, sometimes from afar. Thank you for being one of those who let me lean on you when things got tough. I got your back and you got mine.

And a few others absolutely worth mentioning. Maybe we haven't talked that much but you've supported me and seeing you pop up in my notifications always made me smile and I cherish every single interaction. @lady-stirling @kirjavasblade @graysonfamfan2021 @koryvndr @mejacinta you guys are the best!

If I forgot someone, know that you are in my heart forever, I'm just too much of an emotional wreck right now (seriously, not a pretty view) to get it out of the depths of my mind.

Titans forever. Let's do this one last time.

#personal #dc titans #I just love you all so fucking much #okay?#bear with me #I'm being sappy and nostalgic

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wheneclipsefalls · 1 year ago

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Girl know how to make me positively feral! I don't how much more of this my little heart can take! Fucking adrenaline rush!

okay okay

where to start

First, this is my favorite chase scene I have ever read! Simply put. the way you draw it out until I am hanging off my chair, heart thumping erratically...chefs kiss!!! It's all the tiny details too that make it feel so real. From mapping out the route to little obstacles that reader makes to keep Neteyam at bay. And then of course there is that pivotal moment where she finally has hope of making it out only to have that be the exact moment he rips it away! I live for that shit.

and now a moment for some of my favorite snippets

Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else.

I don't know why this image is so adorable to me! He so baby girl just standing there holding his tail....that is before he turns into a feral beast hahaha! I love it

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice. He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any.

Just the right amount of horror genre spice to keep it tasty! Chills! All the chills

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

It never gets old. Every damn time *whimsical happy sigh*

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears. Don’t move.

I simply would have whithered away. A happy way to go

He doesn’t give you time to react as his head bends down and latches onto the swell of your breast through your shirt, sharp teeth digging into it just enough for marks to surely be left even through the layers of shirt and bra. You yelp, back arching instinctively against the pain, and your body unfreezes as his teeth scrape against your breast before digging into the material of your shirt and ripping.

I didn't know I needed this until I read it. I don't understand what exactly it is about this paragraph that awakened something new in me but it did. And thats saying a lot because at this point I have read a lot of crazy shit. I don't know...something about the way he is too impatient to get her shirt off first. Or even rip it open then start biting. Then you pair it with this beautiful little visual later (see below)

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily.

uh yeah. Yep. yep. absolutely. that will do it. I had to take a five minute break after that combo. My brain can't handle this all at once. (honestly why it takes me an hour or more to read your work all the time. I take breaks every paragraph)

Your fingers graze along the hilt of the knife, fingertips brushing along the part that it can touch and curling in, trying to coax the knife just a bit closer so you can grab it. Neteyam growls into your cunt, and you let out a gasping curse when his foot lands on your wrist, pinning it to the tile before you can work your hand around the knife. “You son of a bitch!” You yell,

one of your special skills is find lines that will have me simultaenously aroued and laughing. Pretty sure every fic I have read of yours has that golden nugget in it and I don't know how you do it.

But there is something so hot about the way he is so unthreatened by her attempt to get that knife that he simply pins her wrist with his foot and carries on enjoying his meal. It's so insignificant to him that he doesn't bother even commenting on it.

I.....*coughs erratically*....mmm......yes....thank you sir

It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying.

me screaming at reader to pay attention so I can read those juicy pieces of dialogue: focus, bitch!!!

bahahahaha

Girly, you know how to tease

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure.

just enough to fuel my imagination

anyways I could ramble forever but I should stop before my brain turns to mush again. Once again I am faced with the fact that something is wrong with me but I don't care.

Once again, thank you for you for serving the dark fic avatar community

I love you!

Feral

Survive The Night Day 2: Predator/Prey

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Chasing, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Creampie, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, Restraining Holds (i.e pinning/holding reader down), Fear Kink (?), Alien Genitalia (not really the focus, but its there), Knotting, Belly Bulge

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: Based off a dream I had where Neteyam chased me through my house and I was running for my fucking life. Why didn't I let him catch me, you ask? Cause dream Talie is stupid.

Summary: You never understood why the Na'vi don't use this particular plant in their healing practices. It's a miracle plant for the humans - cutting healing times nearly in half when used as a topical paste. You would think it would have some similar benefits to the Na'vi. You would be wrong.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Kehe rikx - Don't move

Rutxe ftang - Please stop

Kehe - No

Even considering he’s a nine foot tall blue alien, Neteyam Sully still looks extremely out of place standing on the clean, white tiled floor of the lab.

His siblings don’t look so out of place when they visit - comfortable and familiar enough within the confines of the lab to make themselves at home among the multitude of beakers, whirling machines, and thick observation glass that make up your day-to-day workplace. Their large bodies twisting and contorting with ease when necessary to accommodate for the smaller space.

Neteyam isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t like the human facilities, opting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay as far away from the skypeople as he can. He’s only here because he was ordered to be, sent by his father to fix his broken throat comm before they head out with the hunting party on a three day hunting trip.

He looks uncomfortable as he stands behind you, back stiff and arms crossed across his broad chest as he watches you tinker with the comm. Repairing tech has never been your strong suit, so it’s taking you a bit longer to figure out than it probably should have, but since you're currently the only person left in this half of the base, the responsibility has unintentionally fallen to you.

You should be out there too. The thought forms bitterly in your head as you poke at the small opened compartment of the comm with your tweezers. Your favorite part of research is going out into the world and finding the specimens. The lab is great, a fine place for breaking ground and learning new things, gathering knowledge and data about a flora and fauna in a way that no other humans had ever had the opportunity to do before. Pandora is your home, where you grew up and lived your whole life - and yet, it’s still a mystery, and you learn something new and beautiful about it everyday.

But the real fun is outside the lab. It’s when you're out there, in the thick of it, stepping over breaching roots and feeling the moss of the ground between your toes when you take off your shoes during a rest break. It’s feeling the gentle breeze of air along your skin and hearing the trees rustle in the canopy above you as a result, and pretending that - just for a minute - you can feel the breeze of alien air brush against your face instead of your mask.

Usually one of the older scientists, Alice, offers to stay behind at the lab to run tests and be on call for the Omatikaya should human tech ever be needed. But she’s the most knowledgeable when it comes to locating the elusive and seasonally grown plant that’s come to be known as the Rust Plant.

So, that leaves you here, on your ass and pouting while everyone else gets to go off and have their fun.

As far as you know, the plant doesn’t have any special properties or spiritual significance to the Na’vi. But when the red dust-like powder is collected from the center and manipulated into a liquid, the result is a miracle paste that significantly reduces healing time with human injuries. You asked about it once - why the Na’vi don’t try to make the paste for themselves to see if it will work on them - but the only answer you got back was that it had some ‘unintended consequences’ when used by the clan, so they stay away from the plant altogether.

You don’t think about that when Neteyam walks in.

The plant mixture, once rust red, is now a beautiful glowing purple inside the beaker - a reaction from the solution added to the powder to form the liquid base. It’s been on the hot plate for a while now, but it’s only just starting to heat up enough to provide small spirals of smoke inside the clear glass.

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear Neteyam sniff slightly behind you. You don’t turn around, ignoring the little puffs of air that somehow sound like bullet shots in the silence, but a part of you is instantly insecure. What is he smelling? It can't be the mixture in the beaker. Despite the smoke, it doesn’t give off any kind of smell. Subtly, you press your chin to your chest, trying to see if you can smell yourself to find out if maybe it’s you giving off some kind of stench that his overly sensitive nose is picking up on, but you don’t smell anything off about you either.

The purple liquid is still thin inside the container, needing several more minutes of constant heat in order to bubble and thicken slightly before it can be considered a usable product, but you pause your tinkering on the comm to note the time for the smoke in a small notebook.

Neteyam lets out a loud sigh when you drop the tweezers to grab a pencil, the annoyed huff nearly ear piercing in the quiet of the lab. This time you can’t help but glance towards the harsh noise, a slight tilt of your head towards the large Na’vi and your eyes meet amber for just a second before they drop again to the paper as you scribble.

A part of you wants to be snobby, ask a prissy ‘can I help you?’ just because you feel like he’s being so unnecessarily rude when you're just trying to help, but you keep your mouth shut.

He doesn’t.

“Are you nearly done?” He grunts, accented tone pitched with agitation as his feet shuffle on the tile.

“Yes, just a few more minutes,” You say, picking the tweezers back up. “Be patient.”

You think you’ve almost got the comm fixed, just a minor replacement to the tiny inside panel, and you're thankful that’s all it is. It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve nearly got the replacement piece in place now, so all you should have to do is solder it in and it should be fine. Which is good because the sooner you can get this fixed, the sooner you can get the huffy, oversized, unfortunately very handsome despite being an incredible dick of a Na’vi out of the lab so you don’t have to feel him breathing down your neck anymore.

It only takes another couple minutes for the smoke to consume the rest of the empty space in the beaker, thick white wisps swirling inside of the glass and spiraling out of the top. You drop the tweezers again, cutting the power off to the hot plate and grab the pencil again to log the time.

Neteyam sniffs again, this time audibly louder and longer, before it sounds like his breath gets caught in his lungs.

Immediately, your head spins around to stare at him wide eyed, surprise and concern flooding your chest when you notice he’s backed up a few steps. He’s staring at the bubbling beaker, yellow eyes set with suspicion and what almost looks like distress.

“Are you o–”

“What is that?” He interrupts, voice gruff as his three fingered hand points to the beaker.

“It’s… the mixture for our healing paste,” You reply, confused.

“No! What is it?”

“The Rust Plant? The one that grows on the sides of river b–”

You’re cut off again by a sharp hiss, and you have just a second to register Neteyam’s dagger-like teeth as he stalks forward, spitting out a frustrated “You stupid–” before he’s jerking back, hand immediately covering his nose as if to stop himself from breathing.

He looks wild, eyes frantic as he stares at the beaker, and every muscle in his body looks tense, stung up tight like a bow ready to shoot. You’re a scientist, you’re meant to be observant, so you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. But it’s clear as anything now. The smoke doesn’t have any kind of smell to you, but to him - with the way he’s backing away and covering his nose to keep from breathing it in - it must be horrible.

His tail is trashing behind him, so upset that you think you can almost hear a swish from it cutting through the air like a whip.

“I need to leave,” He says suddenly. Instinctively, you back up into the desk at the sight of the large and angry Na’vi coming at you again, but he just grabs the still broken comm and turns around to storm out.

He’s big though, too much for the small space of the lab, and his frantic tail is still thrashing as he turns. The thin appendage accidentally snaps against the side of the still smoking beaker, sending it flying off the desk and onto the ground.

The glass shatters against the tile, glowing purple spreading across the white floor in a large puddle as the smoke spirals up into the air. Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else. But you watch, shocked and frozen in your spot as he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, tense back muscles shifting under his cobalt skin with each inhale and exhale of air.

“Neteyam?” You ask, timidly. Dread shoots through your chest and you have the feeling that something very serious just happened, but you don’t even know what.

He’s just standing there now, back towards you, but he’s not moving towards the door anymore. It’s like something is keeping him from moving, some unseen force that exploded out of the glass container when it burst and wrapped its tendrils around him before he could take another step.

Whatever he was smelling from the beaker wasn’t good for him, and now it's in the air, invisible signatures swirling through the small space of the lab, and it's affecting him - the ‘unintended consequences’ of the Rust Plant on the Na’vi.

Your every instinct is telling you to stay away from him, that he’s dangerous. But he’s one of the Omatikaya, and regardless of how he views humans, you know he would never hurt you and disobey his father like that.

“Hey,” You say, gently. You force yourself away from the desk, slowly moving around him to try to not startle him as you attempt to make your way to the airlock door. “Just relax, okay? Let’s try to air this pl–”

His deep growl has you frozen again, cold ice shoots through your veins at the predatory sound. It’s not a normal growl - not a low, quick sound made in anger or frustration. It sounds dark, a deep dangerous rumbling that came from his chest. A warning.

You watch in horror as he slowly tilts his head towards you, the pointed tips of his sharp teeth visible under the snarled curl of his lips, glittering in the bright fluorescent lights of the lab. Your brain screams at you to run - danger, danger, danger, it shouts, but you can’t move. The realization hits hard: he’s not Neteyam anymore. The Na’vi in front of you is not the same human-indifferent, scoffing, fearless warrior son of Toruk Makto.

He’s an animal. A predator.

Feral.

His golden eyes are now just a thin band of dark honey encircling two endless black holes. And in their reflection you see yourself - tiny and weak. Scared.

Prey.

His body shifts slightly, just the most minuscule movements as he angles himself towards you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had your survival instincts not been ringing alarm bells in your brain. Without thinking, you grab the hot plate, gripping it tightly at its base and holding it in front of you as your only form of weapon.

“Neteyam Sully!” You shout, and you can’t even believe how out of your mind you are to try to use his full name like an upset mother. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you stop it right now!”

There’s not even a second after the words leave your mouth, not a beat or breath or anything before he’s coming at you.

Your body registers his sudden movement before your brain does, the roaring snarl bouncing off the walls of the lab as he lunges at you. The hot plate is out of your hands in an instant, the hard base of the plate smacking into his face with a loud cuh-thunk. His snarl is interrupted with a grunt from the hit, body jerking back a step from the impact, and you don’t wait around to see the way his eyes zero in on your retreating form again in rage.

You can’t think - your body is moving without your brain telling it what to do. Pure panic mixed with raw survival instincts is what drives you through the door behind you, nearly smacking into the wall as you barrel down the main hallway. You hear Neteyam’s footsteps close behind, bare feet smacking against the tile.

It’s a sound you never thought you would find terrifying. You think of little Mae, the daughter of the staff nurse and one of the science guys, and how the sound of her tiny footsteps stomping on these same tiles floors always brought a smile to your face. You could always hear her coming before you saw her, just a few seconds before she rounded the corner with unsteady steps ready to cause havoc as she tries to run from her exhausted and overstimulated mother.

These ones are louder though. Heavier, but somehow more quiet as they rush at you from across the unobstructed hall. Your body doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up, and that’s probably a good thing considering you have no idea how the fuck you knew to take the split second turn to your right the exact moment Neteyam tried to pounce.

You hear his snarl of anger as he rights himself, loud and echoing through the hallway. You’ve managed to best him for a second, but he’s still on your ass - gaining ground on you with his long Na’vi legs despite the cramped human-sized halls.

Your heart is racing in your chest, pounding with fear, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing keeping you going. You can’t breathe - shallow, panicked, quick puffs of air rip from you as you run, your high pitched gasps sounding against the hall walls as a foil to Neteyam’s predatory growls.

“HELP!” You scream, voice cracking with how loud you're trying to scream. The desperation and pure terror are evident in your voice and you know if someone were around they would hear you for sure. Someone has to be around. They have to be. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!”

No one responds. No one steps in to intervene. No one even opens their door to try to take a little bit of a peek. No one to run to for help even though it feels like you're about to get mauled to death by a Thanator.

You’re truly alone. And that thought makes you somehow even more desperate.

Most people have a tendency to close the doors of their bedrooms, trying to keep as much privacy as they can in the small base. Norm has no such desires, often too excited or too focused on getting to his studies that he outright forgets to close his door.

It’s a god send now that you’re sprinting through the residency part of the outpost. Your room is one of the last down the hall. You won’t make it. Not with the way you’re shaking right now, body feeling like it's somehow both freezing over with ice and lighting on fire as the fear and adrenaline fight for dominance for your immediate attention. Neteyam’s right behind you, long stride more than twice the size of yours cutting any distance you gained through your miracle of a move back down to barely anything at all.

He’s going to catch you.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

Throwing yourself at a random door is dangerous. Just the extra second it takes to turn the knob and push the door open could almost certainly be the difference between life and death if you even still have a chance at life at all. And even then you run the risk of it being locked. Your eye catches on Norm’s door - open and shining like a beacon of hope amongst the fluorescently lit hallway.

You don’t have another choice.

You turn.

As soon as you make it through the threshold, you slam the door behind you as fast as you can.

You don’t know what you expected, naively hoping that the door would somehow succeed in protecting you and keeping Neteyam out. It’s not even locked.

You scream as the door explodes under Neteyam’s weight, the wood splintering as it bursts apart, smaller bits of fragmented wood spraying towards you as the feral Na’vi shoulders his way in. The bathroom to your left is the only option, and you lunge for it just as Neteyam lunges for you. The tears pouring down your cheeks burn your eyes and blur your vision, your loud hyperventilating cries make your throat raw. Another door just barely slammed in his face and your back presses against the opposite door, your panicked hand trying to jiggle the knob but your brain not reminding you how to twist it. This other door hasn’t been used in years - the bathroom that once connected these two rooms together is just used by Norm now since Mary had her baby and her and her husband moved into a larger room to accommodate the crib. It’s locked, and your fingers are struggling to twist the mechanism up to unlock it when Neteyam breaks through.

Even through your blurred vision, you see it clearly. His arm reaches through the hole his shoulder has made, and the bathroom is too small, too fucking small because that arm looks like its reaching across the entire length of it, fingers splayed out like if he can just get one of the tips to brush you, he’ll snatch you up.

“HELP!” You scream again. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re going to fucking die. “HELP ME!”

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice.

He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any.

“N-Neteyam,” You stutter. Your heart is pounding so fast, blood sounding like it’s rushing in your ears so fast you don’t know how you haven’t had a heart attack yet. “P-please s-stop. P-please.”

His eyes stay locked on yours through the hole in the door, dark and glaring but for some reason he’s paused his attacks. A part of you wonders if your begging is making it through to the non-animalistic part of his brain. Whatever the smoke from the mixture of the Rust Plant did to him, it has to be only temporary. He’s still Neteyam. Neteyam is still in there somewhere.

“Please,” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

He leans forward, one hand curling around the broken wood from the open hole in the door. When he speaks, you don’t know if you’re relieved to hear that he can despite the overwhelming feral actions, or if you’re horrified at how his voice comes out.

He doesn’t sound like himself at all. His words are clipped, short words made sentences that you don’t understand as both the gravely and growled way he says them as well as overall meaning.

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

“Wha— I-I don’t understand,”

You scream when he hisses at you, long canines and sharp teeth on display through the damaged opening and you have a front row seat to the show as your back presses harder against the door behind you. The hand wrapped around the edge of the hole pulls back suddenly, taking with it a huge chunk of the center and the loud crack and snap of wood snaps your body back into gear. You twist the small lock on the door behind you, unlocking it and wrenching it open when Neteyam throws his body against the opposite door again. You’re out the door and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind you just as you hear the telltale crash of the wild Na’vi breaking through the other barrier. Without thinking, you round the side of the bookshelf that stands on the side of the doorframe. You push with all your might, tipping the bookshelf on its side so that it falls diagonally across the door. A dresser sits just on the opposite side of the door, the bookshelf catching on the edge of the dresser so that it blocks a good portion of the bathroom door.

Any other time you’d be heartbroken to see the books that fall off the bookshelf in your mishandling scatter along the floor and at your feet like they were nothing more than trash. Today, though, you can’t give a shit about that.

Your hands grip your hair in frustration as you hear Neteyam’s body barrel into the door, hot tears racing down your face as you waste valuable seconds staring at the bending wood behind the tipped bookcase. It won’t keep him back for long. He could probably easily push it out of his way, but it's something. Your only hope now is that it keeps him long enough for you to get away and that his instinct driven brain doesn’t realize he can just go back the way he came to get around the obstacle.

Turning on your heel, you sprint out the bedroom door, heading back down the hallway towards the lab. The sound of the loud crash echoing through the empty hall makes you run impossibly faster. Was it the door finally giving way under his weight? Or was it the bookshelf being tossed to the side like it was nothing and he’s about to barrel down the hallway to finish the job that you’ve somehow managed to postpone until now?

You make it back to the lab, foot smacking against the forgotten hotplate still laying on the ground in your haste to get to the airlock. Your hand smacks against the button on the side wall, fingers practically choking the heavy handle as you go to yank it open. The oxygen masks lay forgotten on the shelf next to the door. You don’t care about them, don’t care about breathing right now because what’s good about breathing when Neteyam could end your need for it in just seconds if he catches you.

The airlock door hisses as the seal breaks and for a split second you think you’ve done it - have somehow managed to survive this deadly game of cat and mouse you’ve inadvertently been forced to play. You can grab a mask and slip inside the airlock. Keep Neteyam locked up here in the lab while you sit safely outside until the others get back or he comes to his senses enough to remember how to open the airlock door himself.

But no sooner than the thought crosses your mind, an arm wraps tightly around your waist and pulls you from your death grip on the thick metal door.

You scream as you’re tossed to the floor, body pressed against the cold tile as Neteyam straddles you. His hips pin your legs down, leaving them useless and unable to buck or kick under his massive weight. You beat at his chest with your fists as hard as you can, trying to ignore how they hurt from your balled up fists trying to hit against pure solid muscle.

Panic manifests in your desperate cries and you aim for his face too, trying to hit or slap or scratch - anything to get him off of you. You feel like an injured animal caught in a trap. And you suppose you are.

“Get off!” You cry. “Get off me, Neteyam!”

He snarls as one of your hits lands too close next to his eye and he grabs your hands tightly in one of his, pinning them above your head.

Your screams stop, catching in your throat when the bright fluorescent lights of the lab catch on the knife on his hip. The light caresses the blade as he pulls it from its sheath, the sharp tip sparkling as he brings it to press against the base of your throat.

His face is in front of yours in an instant, so close you feel like you can barely breathe in the wake of the knife resting at your throat and the way his huge eyes feel like twin black holes threatening to suck you into their depths if you move even a single centimeter.

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears.

Don’t move.

The point of the knife drags against your neck, scratching lightly as he draws it down your collarbone. It pulls at the fabric at the neck of your t-shirt as he moves it down your chest, stretching and bunching it down as he scrapes the tip through the valley of your breasts. Your heart pounds under the deadly tip of the weapon and your body wants to fight, keep fighting for your life that you know could be taken from you with just a quick movement of his hand, but your fear keeps you frozen.

Something hard presses against your trapped thighs and your eyes automatically rip themselves from the knife down to the space between your bodies, and your breathing catches in your throat again for a whole other reason.

Neteyam’s cock is hard in his loincloth, having escaped its sheath and filling out under the thin material enough to raise a sizable tent inside it.

The loud sound of tearing fabric rips through the room and Neteyam releases the torn fabric from his mouth just to grip it with his hands instead, pulling up and out and exposing your bra clad torso to his darkened crazed eyes. The knife is still in his hand, but the blade is pointed sideways now as he uses the fingers around it to rip your shirt apart. It’s not smart, not a smart idea at all to try your hand at smacking at him again, but you have to do something.

You don’t know what he wants anymore. What did that mixture do to him? He was chasing you through these halls, growling and snarling like a predator on the hunt for its next meal, and now he’s on top of you - hard and tearing your clothes off like he wants to fuck you.

You only get a couple smacks in before the knife is back at your chest and you’re forced still again. Neteyam’s eyes are locked onto your chest, following the tip of the knife as he slides it under the band of your bra directly between your breasts. It cuts easily under the pressure of the sharp knife and the covering falls on either side of your chest, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze.

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily.

“N-Netayam,” You say, slowly. He seems a little calmer now that he has you trapped under him. You need to talk him to his senses. He’s still in there somewhere. He has to be. He’s not all animal. He can be reasoned with. “You don’t wanna do this. Plea–”

Your plea is cut off as he rises off of you, crouching back just enough to give himself room to flip you roughly over on your stomach. You grunt as your bare chest hits the cold tile, arms splayed uselessly on either side of you as you try to get your bearings from the quick movement before he’s using his knife to cut through the denim of your shorts.

“Neteyam! Rutxe ftang! Kehe!”

You don’t know why you think pleading in Na’vi will be any different than English, but desperation punches the frantic words out of you before you can even think about deciding to say them. Your hands finally find purchase on the ground beneath you and you try to push yourself up in hopes of crawling away, but Neteyam’s dropping the knife and taking hold of your hips before you can.

High pitched squeaking sounds hit your ears as he drags your body across the tile. Your hands scramble frantically against the floor as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing to hold onto. They just slide uselessly, voicing their protest in the way the tile screams under your grasping fingertips as you’re hoisted up with your lower half in the air.

Your back arches against Neteyam’s hold, legs kicking in the air but doing no harm despite their efforts. The hole he’s created in your shorts is enough to have your pussy on display for him, and you can feel his breath on it - hot puffs are the only warning you get before his mouth is on you. Your voice is raw from all the screaming you’ve done, the sound crackling and almost pained as you shout again - shout for him to stop and to let you go as you kick and squirm and beg.

You want to cry more, any drying tears of fear you have still tracked on your cheeks are replaced with tears of humiliation. Your clit pulses under his relentless tongue, pussy subconsciously clenching around nothing as he licks and sucks over the puffy folds.

You’re wet.

You’re so wet already, body confusing the adrenaline caused by fear and desperation and flooding it with the adrenaline that comes with arousal instead. His textured tongue slips across your sticky cunt, licking up your wetness, and a reluctant moan escapes your lips at the rough feel on your sensitive parts.

A gleam to your right catches your attention and a flicker of hope rushes through you at the sight. Neteyam’s knife is laying on the ground next to you, scattered just far enough when he dropped it that it's a stretch for you to grab it, but not impossible. He’s distracted by your cunt, chest rumbling in what you can only describe as a more aggressive type of purr and your face contorts in unwanted pleasure as the vibrations pulse against your clit.

You reach for the knife, using one hand pressed against the tile to gain any kind of leverage you can while your other arm stretches out towards the forgotten blade. You're not even sure what you’re going to do with it when it’s in your hand. Would you just threaten him with it? Tell him to back off and that you’ll use it if he doesn’t? Would you cut him a little to show that you’re serious?

Would you stab him if it came to it?

“You son of a bitch!” You yell, anger burning through your desperation, but all Neteyam does is push his face deeper into your pussy. His large hands rip at the back of your shorts more, fingers digging into the exposed curves of your ass to spread you apart.

The pressure in your belly intensifies as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it in what feels like an almost pleasured punishment.

You’re going to cum. Fuck fuck you’re going to cum on the tongue of the practically feral Na’vi who just chased you through the halls of your own home and made you think he was going to rip you to shreds and leave you to die on the floor for your coworkers to find. It feels so good, so so good and you wail as your pussy spasms against his relentless tongue, contracting against the wet muscle as the coil in your belly bursts in an explosion of uncontrolled pleasure.

Neteyam groans against your core, lapping up everything you have to offer as you whine and shake. Your legs, still suspended in the air, are becoming numb - the tingling sensation of your limbs losing their life combining with the dramatic pulsing over your oversensitive cunt.

You grunt as he drops you to the ground, his foot lifting off your wrist as he crouches back up, and you pull it to your chest, cradling it there and quickly checking for any injury as your body automatically tries to curl up in a protective ball.

His hands are back on your hips in an instant, pulling you back again across the floor until your ass is pressed up against his front. Your blood runs cold when your bare ass meets bare skin. The bulge that was once blocked by the thin layer of his loincloth is now free - large, dominant, and demanding of attention as it presses tightly against you.

Demanding of your attention.

The hand on the back of your neck is uncaring as it pushes you down, forcing your face against the white tiled floor as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Neteyam, no! Please!” You beg, even as your back is forced to arch from the exposed position he has you in.

And maybe if this was a different situation, a different circumstance, he would have used this opportunity to tease you. Tell you to stop fussing and stay still. To be a good girl for him while he fucks your tight cunt and maybe if you’re good enough, he would let you cum again. You would let him. Neteyam is beautiful, more handsome than any other Na’vi you’ve ever seen. If he would have been kind to you and shown interest in you like that, you would have agreed to fuck him in a heartbeat.

But he’s not himself. Doesn’t even have his mind enough to acknowledge your pleas with anything more than agitated snarls and frustrated growls.

His cock feels monstrous as he rubs it between your soaked folds. Thick and hard as the wetness of his own slick mixes with the sticky mess you have already between your thighs. The head of his cock rubs against your tender clit and you can feel how the sheer size of it forces your pussy lips apart.

You can’t take it inside you. Fuck. You can’t. You can’t.

You whimper when the tip makes its way back to your entrance, nudging against it before the blunt tip presses forward. Your hands press into the tile on either side of your head, mouth falling open in a silent scream even as he presses your cheek further into the floor as he pushes his cock further into you. You feel every thick inch of it as it spears you open, and you expect it to hurt. It should hurt, especially with the way you’re clamping down around him, body automatically trying to keep it out even as it bullies its way deeper inside you.

There’s pressure, so much pressure. He’s too big, large alien cock way too much for your tiny human body to take, but somehow it is. Your brain is trying to tell you to panic, that the pressure is pain and you should scream and cry and try to wiggle away from it. But it's not. He’s stretching you so much, filling you up - but it doesn’t. hurt.

And that realization hurts you more than the cock currently rearranging your guts ever could.

You know it’s the slick. Despite never being with a Na’vi yourself, you know that the wetness that coats a male’s cock to aid it with slipping out of its protective sheath has something in it that eases the pain of penetration. It’s a good thing. Inherently helpful for any relationship, especially for those between a human and a Na’vi to curb the extra struggle of the size difference.

You always thought it was sweet. A way for Eywa to reward the loyalty of the good sky people who are lucky enough to find everlasting bonds with her own children.

Now, the idea of it leaves a bad taste in your mouth as the cock inside you pulls out only to thrust in harder. The texture on his cock scrapes against your slick walls as he starts to fuck you, the bumps and barbs rubbing and pressing against the sensitive spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had.

A waterfall of moans and whines rip from your throat as he moves faster, your higher pitched pathetic sounds a stark contrast to his deep guttural grunts. His hand is off the back of your neck now, instead finding a place at the side of your face as he keeps you pinned to the floor. It’s so big compared to your head that it spans the entirety of it, thumb hooking just under the edge of your jaw while his fingers curl around the top of your head as he holds you down.

Your thighs shake underneath you as he pounds into you, thick cock so far inside you that you know there has to be a bulge in your belly. There is, you can feel it. The way the head of his cock pushes against your lower abdomen roughly with each thrust and you know that if you could move your hands from the death grip press they have on the tile, you could feel it disappear and reappear under your palm.

He adjusts behind you, both feet planted on the ground as he crouches behind you to try to push in deeper. Pleasure soaks into your brain as you subconsciously push back against him, pussy clenching and squeezing around him trying to suck him in.

“N-Neteyam,” And you have more to say, you do. But you can’t form thoughts anymore. Nothing else will come out other than little punched out breathless gasps.

It takes you a long time to realize that he’s speaking, and even longer for your fucked up and fucked out raddled brain to register what he’s saying. It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying.

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure.

And then he’s leaning forward, body curving overtop yours as he covers you completely. It’s only then you feel what you’ve been too distracted to notice. The thick knot at the base of his cock, fully engorged now as it prods at your entrance.

Your hands finally leave their place pressed against the floor as you throw them behind you in newfound panic. One hand pushes against his abdomen as best as it can, trying to slow his thrusts while the other grabs at his wrist in an effort to pull his hand away from your face. The hand on his abdomen doesn’t do anything to slow his relentless pace, but the hand on the side of your head moves to tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist close to your scalp just hard enough to burn a little as he yanks your head back.

You gasp at the sharp sting and your gasp quickly turns into a whimper as his knot presses tighter against your soaking hole. He’s unforgiving as he digs it against you, holding your hair tight and forcing your back to arch as you stretch even further around it. You’re too wet, pussy too wet and almost greedy and it takes him in, determined despite the obscene size of the engorged ball of tissue.

“Please!” You squeal. Please stop. Please more. “Neteyam, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head when the knot slips inside you, sheathing itself within your heat with another solid push of Neteyam’s hips against your ass. His cock hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, your vision whiting out and there feels like there’s cotton in your ears as you cum around him, squeezing him tightly as you soak his length in your juices. Your breath catches in your lungs when you feel his cock pulse inside you, twitching and feeling like it’s expanding even bigger as his own orgasm hits him.

He holds you close, keeping you pinned and still underneath him with the savage hand in your hair and the firm grip he has on your hip - fierce and unmoving as if to keep you from running away.

As if you even could with the knot locked inside you.

His growl of pleasure reverberates off the walls as he paints yours. Long, thick ropes of release coating your insides and it's so much, so so much that you feel like you can’t fit anymore. Like if he cums anymore, you’ll burst. The knot is still lodged inside you, locked in and refusing to let you free, but there’s no space left inside you, no space, and you feel the excess cum seep out of your hole from around his knot to trail down the insides of your thighs.

You don’t remember blacking out, and you’re not sure when Neteyam was able to pull free from you or when he passed out next to you either. But when you wake up next, it’s to voices.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck happened?”

The bright florescent lights of the lab are blinding when you try to open your eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore of your body and fuck, you feel so sore.

Norm’s shocked face is looking down at you when your eyes finally adjust to the light, Max and a few of the other scientists are behind him, faces an equal mixture of shock and horror as they stare at you with wide eyes.

It takes you a moment to remember what happened - why you’re here, waking up on the cold floor of the lab. Naked. You scramble up, hands clutching at your chest as you desperately try to cover yourself. A deep groan to your right steals your attention from your group of onlookers, and your eyes fall on Neteyam, just waking up from his own sleep.

His eyes are back to their normal gold as they open, groggy at first and then alert in a heartbeat as it registers where he is. He’s up in a crouch in an instant, looking ready to fight but not really sure what he’s supposed to be fighting. Those golden eyes catch on the group, confusion twisting on his face and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

Then his eyes meet yours, taking in your torn clothes and near nakedness, and you sit in horror as it clicks for him what must have happened.

And you watch as the horror in your eyes becomes mirrored in his.

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

#dark neteyam #dark neteyam recs #neteyam x reader

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angstama · 4 years ago

Text

fire | 03

pairing: wakasa imaushi x reader

genre: angst

warnings: none!

✧. " i'd burn every soul i know for her if it's the fire that keeps her warm."

a/n: i never thought we'd reach part 3 but here we are... we're all here for the pain aren't we :")

[01] | [02] | [03]

you've always understood that life works in the most frustrating and annoying way.

you're always one step behind everything. a step behind happiness, a step away from being wakasa's.

and just when you think that you're finally taking a step forward to treating yourself right, wakasa confesses his biggest vulnerability to you.

it's almost as if the world is against you.

and you find that awfully comedic.

so comedic that you now find yourself sitting next to wakasa on the empty grass patch with nothing but a broken heart sitting by the edge of the thread, ready to take a fall again.

the two of you sat in silence under the seemingly calm night sky, neither of you knowing how to or where to start with the countless paragraphs of words swimming in your heads.

"i met this girl seven years ago." wakasa lowers his head. "at first she was just simply someone. somebody whom i didn't mind spending my precious time with. but the more time we spent together, the greedier i got." he chuckles softly to himself as he nervously fidgets with the corner of his white tee.

"i wanted her to only smile at me. i wanted to be the only guy she looks at with those beautiful eyes. i wanted her to only call my name with that soft voice she uses on the neighbourhood cats. i wanted..." he pauses, glancing over at you to only see your body trembling slightly under the cool air.

you felt a coat draped over your shoulders, the familiar mix of lavender and honey hitting your senses. Tugging the collar of the long white coat, you looked at wakasa who only shot you a soft smile before staring back at the city lights across the other side of the reservoir.

"...i wanted her to be mine." he whispers almost inaudibly. as if you weren't meant to hear that. that he still wasn't ready to admit his undying love for you, that he wasn't ready to commit to you.

wakasa really don't know where this is going. all he knew that he wants to hold onto you so badly that it hurts his very core. it burns his very soul to know that he's the one that painted your pretty face with dull colours.

it was all because of him.

because he was a coward and he wanted to run away from his feelings for you.

"fuck, i love her so much. i love her so fucking much that it scares me how strongly she makes me feel." wakasa suddenly buries his head in his hands, "she makes me feel this warmth that i never knew existed. and god, i'd burn every soul i knew for her if it's the fire that keeps her warm too."

you breath hitched, eyes widening upon hearing wakasa's sudden declaration of love for you as tears starts to form at the corner of your eyes.

wakasa imaushi loves you.

"but i know that she deserves someone better."

your lips parted immediately. you want to say something. anything. but not a single word was able to escape your lips. so you shook your head desperately, hoping to catch wakasa's attention.

"i was afraid that she will leave me when someone better comes along. so i tried to find someone else first. someone else to replace her but then i realised that i searched for her in every one of them." wakasa finally looks at you, eyes meeting with yours as he reaches out to carefully hold your face in his hand as if you were the most fragile thing he had ever held.

you place a hand over his, leaning into his warm touch. "you can't just say things like that after breaking my heart waka." you croaked, voice hoarse from choking on your tears. "that's so unfair."

it's truly unfair. you really really really want to break wakasa imaushi's heart too. you want him to feel the same pain as you did but you know that you probably wouldn't even bear to hurt him the slightest.

"i know," wakasa nods, pulling you into his arms and engulfing you into a tight hug as you finally allowed yourself to cry into arms from the mix of hurt and happiness stirring in your heart. "i'm sorry princess."

//end.

@aishyln @tiredbitchposts @hikkarins @haiq-trash @sacred-darkness77 @milicakukic @arosora @potatogirlsthings

hello! this is part 3 :") thank you for requesting for part 3! <3

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lavienjin · 4 years ago

Text

the proposal | a myg drabble

synopsis: Yoongi's nervous, pacing back and forth as he tries to focus on everything else but the weight of the box that's heavy in his slacks.

pairing: yoongi x reader

word count: 913

genre/rating/au: pg-15 | est. rel. au | fluff

warnings: swearing • mentions of sex

author's note: challenged myself to write something in under an hour! this is also for bcc's summer games. it's not technically a paragraph, but that's my fault for not reading. enjoy non-angst yoongi for once!

m.list | ao3

Sweating. Heart palpitating. Vision blurring… Panicking.

Yoongi glances at the clock on top of the mantle, cursing the second hand that ticks slowly as he waits for your arrival. He stands up from the couch only to sit back down.

“I can’t fucking do this,” he groans to himself, putting his head in his hands. His leg begins to bounce and he shoots up like an arrow, racing towards your shared kitchen as he rips the handles of the cupboard filled with various kinds of spirits.

Surveying the long bottles of alcohol in your shelf, it takes a second for him to find the narrow-necked glass bottle of Jameson. His hand lunges for the lable, ignoring the loud rattling of bottles before he pours the whiskey into a small shot glass, downing it all in one go. The fire burns as it makes its way down his throat, but it settles his nerves. Somewhat.

“Come on, come on,” he chants, returning to the living room as he begins to pace.

Yoongi’s eyes snap towards the door upon hearing the unlocking of keys and he curses quietly, rubbing his sweaty palms over his black slacks. There was no time to rehearse his speech, but he mutters a few key phrases under his breath anyway, trying not to think about the weight of the small, velvet box in his pocket.

When you enter the apartment, you’re all smiles, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek after placing your shoes in the rack. You’re still in your work clothes – hair slightly disheveled after another hectic work day in the office and lipstick smudging around the corners of your lips.

And yet… you’re radiant. The most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Yoongi? You okay? Why are you all dressed up?” you laugh, tilting your face in confusion.

“I—um…” His voice is hoarse. He should’ve drank water instead of whiskey. Fuck. No time to remedy that.

Clearing his throat, he tries again, intertwining your hand with his.

“I love you,” he begins slowly. “I love you so fucking much. I prepared a speech for tonight, but I can’t remember what I wrote. Not when you’re here; standing in front of me. But I’m going to try because you deserve to know how much I care.”

He takes a steadying breath, tries to smile even though his voice cracks and the tears blur his vision. He blinks them away quickly, wanting to memorise your features when you realise what’s happening. “You told me once that you believed in soulmates – someone that would always stick with you despite your shortcomings. I scoffed at the idea at first,” he pauses when you chuckle, still looking slightly confused. The grip he has on your hand tightens. “You’re right – you’re always right. Soulmates do exist and I’m so lucky to have met mine.”

It’s all wrong. The order is a mess; his mind short-circuiting constantly. But your hand feels warm in his and it gives him the courage to continue. Unable to remember the perfect cadence he had written hours prior, he chose to speak from the heart.

“I could write a billion songs and nothing could capture your essence. Nothing I produce will sound like your laughter or the feeling of comfort I get from your hugs.” Yoongi’s voice cracks and he has to bite his lip to avoid breaking down in the middle of his speech. “What I’m trying to say is… I love you. You’re more than just my partner, you’re my best friend. Thank you for coming into the studio that night and ruining my concentration.”

He smiles at the memory – of you and him and tangled limbs; at the tension finally breaking when you both stopped resisting the pull after longing for each other’s embrace.

And it’s the way your eyes widen in surprise and your hand covers your mouth as he sinks to one knee that the nervousness leaves him momentarily. Yoongi lets go of your hand to open the box, showcasing the ring he bought months before; the very same one he’s been trying to hide, praying that you wouldn’t find it prematurely and ruin the surprise. You inhale sharply, sobs wrecking your body as your hand covers your mouth, streaks of tears running down your face.

With a final inhale, and a smile only for you, he recites the final line. “I’ve been rambling all this time, but there’s still one more thing I want to say. I love you,” he declares. “Will you marry me?”

A loud sob tears through your throat as you nod furiously, chanting ‘Yes,’ over and over. Yoongi smiles wide, showing his perfect rows of teeth. He stands to slip the ring on your finger and he no longer could bear the weight of his own emotions – at the sense of relief when you agreed. You collide and bury your face into his chest, tears staining the front of his shirt.

“I love you,” he sniffles in your ear, tugging you away so he could claim your lips.

“I love you,” you repeat after you part from the kiss. “God, I must look like such a mess right now.” Chuckling, you wipe your face with the back of your hand, marveling at the ring that glints with the light.

Yoongi threads his fingers in the spaces between yours, playing with the ring absentmindedly as his empy hand cradles your face. “No, you look absolutely beautiful.”

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neesieiumz · 4 years ago

Text

6 Months {Izuku Midoriya x Reader}

(Pro-hero!Izuku Midoriya x Former Pro-hero!Reader)

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

L E A V E.

Summary: You were done. Done with everything. So what do you do? You move on. What's new? What's old? And who makes an even bigger space in your heart?

A/n: So this isn't based on another song, well technically it's still based on Sorry, but it's more like a part two to sorry than it being it's own separate part, you feel me? I know it took longer than expected, but there were so many paths I wanted to take and I didnt feel like rushing it. I really wanted to focus on flashbacks for this final part, your decision to leave the pro-hero scene, when Izuku and Melissa started to see each other... etc... I always made a gateway... in case I wanted to continue you and someone else's romance if I ever felt like it... So enjoy!

Support me on Kofi! Commissions are open!

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: Implied NFSW, but no deed is actually done, light drinking, (all in good fun)

___

Falling into your mother’s arms, you spilled everything from last night and this morning. On how you eavesdropped on his conversation, the confrontations from both this morning and at the brunch. Your father wasn’t home, left earlier this morning for his job. Both you and your brother moved out not too long after high school, him going on to college to become an engineer, and you moving into an apartment with Mina and Jirou while you worked for the same hero agency. Your mother was your closest confidant, she was the only one who could come to mind to tell her about what happened. She just held you, rocking you as you cried, cried about your broken marriage, and seeing the girl your husband abandoned you for. You cried about how both she, your dad, and your brother were right. How you should have never listened to him about giving up everything you worked so hard for. She held you in her loving arms, whispering sweet things in your ear.

“I should have listened to you,” you sobbed, holding one of the throw pillows close to you as you sat up on your couch, leaving her hold on you.

Your dress was bunched up to your knees so you pulled the wrinkled material out from under you as you shifted around on your mother’s leather couch. She pulled you into one last hug, the warm embrace making silent tears fall down your face. Your mom pushed the braids falling out of your now-loose bun from your tear-stricken face. Continuing to caress your face slowly, her slightly rough hands provided a familiar comfort from your childhood.

“This is not your fault, you can not blame yourself for his infidelity, nor can you blame yourself for sticking by your husband’s side and decisions. You did what you thought was right and absolutely no one can give you shit for believing in your marriage.” Her soft voice provides extra comfort to you.

“WHAT?!?”

You were in your family home, six years ago. You still had a couple of bandages around your face and arms. Recently, you just completed physical therapy, nearly regaining full control over your limbs. The fight you had was brutal, nearly leveled the entire city. However, you came out successful from it, even if it put you out of commission for over a year. However, since you’ve woken up, you and Izuku have been having intense conversations about the two of you and your futures together, which led you to the decision you’ve made today.

“YOU’RE RETIRING?!?!” Your brother yelled, standing up swiftly out of his chair.

You took a deep breath, keeping your head down as you nodded your head. It was just you, your parents, and your brother here, Izuku currently being in the top 25 heroes, had a lot of work to do so he could join you as you broke the news to them.

“Izuku and I have been talking and seeing how fast he’s going in the Hero Charts. This incident caused us to do some major thinking. The two of us worrying about each other on the job isn’t healthy. Having two heroes in a relationship, especially two who are going as high in the ranks as us as quickly as we are. Considering how there are a lot more people expecting Izuku to go higher since he’s All Might’s prodigy. So, I’ll be retiring and helping Izuku with his career from the sidelines.”

You let out another deep breath as you finished your monologue, your fingers twitching in your lap. You knew this was a decision your family wasn’t going to agree with, after all, it’s not like you don’t have your legacy to meet up with. Your mother, before Miruko, was the highest-ranked female pro hero in all of Japan. You had her legacy to go after since your brother decided to go into the family business with pro-hero gear.

“You can’t be serious!! After everything, you’ve worked for?!?! You’re just gonna give it up BECAUSE IZUKU SAID SO?!”

Your brother was the most pissed, after all, it was always both you and his plan that the two of you would live up to our parent’s legacy. He would become the best support gear inventor and you would become the best pro hero. So saying this puts a damper on the dreams you both had.

“You had one bad fight with a villain, but the doctors said you’re going to be cleared right?” You nodded your head at his question, “so why? Why would you need to retire after that one fight?!”

“Izuku proposed.”

Gasps of shock flew from heri mouths, you smiled sadly as you pulled your hand from under the other, revealing the small, silver ring with the pure cut diamond sitting perfectly in the middle of it.

“He’s the love of my life, and he’s the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with… to have kids with. We both understand how difficult this job is, and we both know how much I wanted to become a pro hero, but since he’s my endgame… something had to give. And so I did.”

Next was your father, having raised you since you were 3 years old. He saw how much you looked up to your mother, and to your grandmother as well. You come from a line from female pro heroes, and it was always your dream to continue that. He’s always supported you throughout the years, remembering all the times the two of you would work in his workshop on new hero gear, both with your brother and without as well.

“Y/n, don’t you think you’re rushing into this decision? This is everything you’ve been working for, and you’re gonna throw it away?”

“I know your concerns but this is for the best for me and him. I know being a pro hero was what I wanted, but…” you trailed off, looking away from your trembling hands.

Your mother, who was sitting beside you, could only stare at your trembling hands. Almost reminds her of the time she told her mother who she was marrying. How nervous she was, not because she was putting her career on the back burner, but because of what happened the last time she decided to pursue a romantic relationship with someone. She got you out of it, but it was still a painful journey. She took a deep breath, before shifting herself to where you were. She placed her hand on top of your own, making you look down at them before slowly turning your head to look at her.

“Are you happy?”

The question caught everyone off guard, their heads turning towards your mother. You slowly nodded your head, smiling at all the memories you’ve made with Izuku. When you first met as a transfer student, your first date and everything else.

“Yeah Mom, I’m happy.”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward as you shook the memory out of your head.

Meanwhile, your mom tried to lighten the mood, “Well, let’s hope your father doesn’t get to him… you know he doesn’t play about you… or your brother either.”

“He won’t be able to land a hit on him unless Izuku lets him.”

“Well, he better let him then!”

You laughed out loud at that, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. You could feel your mom get off the couch, leaning up as she headed to the dining table. Looking through the papers stacked on the wooden table, she pulled out a business card before walking back to where you were still seated on the couch. Your mom sat back down in her original seat, before handing you the same card of laminated cardboard paper.

Renai Miya, divorce attorney at law.

“Renai is a good friend of mine, she gave me that in case anyone I knew was getting advice soon. I’m sure she didn’t expect my daughter but I’m sure she’ll be able to help you out.”

You looked over at your mother, who just gave you another knowing smile. She just rubbed at your shoulders in comfort as you pulled out your phone.

---

Izuku was sitting at his office, ignoring the texts from both Shoto and Katsuki. After the argument and confrontation from this morning, he decided to stay in the office today and complete some overdue paperwork. Typing away on his computer, his mind began to shift from the email he was sent to the hero commission to the argument that happened between him, Kacchan, and Shoto.

“I’m sorry, YOUR WIFE JUST TRIED TO KILL YOU! We don’t know what would have happened if we hadn't come when we did!” Katsuki yelled, throwing his jacket off of his body.

“Izuku, this is a serious matter. We need to know what happened,” Shoto explained next, kneeling in front of Izuku’s crouching figure.

Izuku just shook his head, diving his head into the insides of his elbows. Shoto and Katsuki looked at each other, the concern shining in their eyes. They looked back at their trembling friend, who was now starting to rock back and forth while whispering “I fucked up.” over and over again.

“Izuku,” Katsuki started tentatively, “what did you do?”

Izuku stopped trembling and his rocking ceased as he raised his head slowly, locking eyes with his childhood friend. Katsuki’s leg began moving up and down in anticipation, waiting for him to say something.

“I don’t want to report this, trust me. So just pretend you never saw that.” That was all he said before standing up, pushing past them.

Izuku shook his head, focusing back on his emails. He sent the long paragraph he was typing, after making sure there were grammatical or spelling errors. He then leaned back against his office chair, throwing his head back. A gross, yet very familiar feeling was arising from his stomach, it was slimy, it was painful, it was guilt. He felt guilty, remembering how his wife looked at him at breakfast and right before she left. How the look in her eyes felt more painful than other villains could ever inflict on him.

Closing his eyes, his mind slowly drifted to a memory, a memory from three months ago.

It was dark, and Izuku was tired, so very tired from the shift he worked. However, he needed to do this. He needed to end whatever the hell he and Melissa had. The way they were conversing over private messages was getting too much. In a week would be his wedding Anniversary, and how his wife, Y/n, surprised him, reminded him about what he and Melissa had.

And how wrong it was.

He wore a black, sleeveless turtleneck, paired with a dark coat along with dark jeans. He had fake glasses on his face and his curly was positioned to cover his face so people wouldn’t recognize him. He kept his head forward as he approached the apartment complex Melissa mentioned she was moving into. After living on I-island for all of her life, she wanted a change of pace, especially since what happened with her father way back when. So she got a job as a top hero support inventor at the company where Izuku got his extra gear from. Since it’s also where Hatsume worked as well. He opened the door and walked into the lobby. He looked around the expensive-looking area, seeing the receptionist, and only one other person sitting on the complementary couch talking on the phone. He walked to the receptionist, who greeted him with a smile.

“Are you here to see someone?”

He nodded and gave his fake name, the one he told Melissa he’d be using, along with the apartment number that she gave him. The receptionist simply smiled before typing in her computer, before reaching over to the phone and pressing a couple of the buttons. Izuku could hear someone pick up, a muffled voice through the phone.

“Yes, Ms. Shield, A Iseada L/n is here to see you.”

Izuku took a deep breath, hearing the fake name he gave along with his wife’s maiden name. The receptionist gave off acknowledging hums to the person on the phone, who Izuku knew was Melissa. He rocked himself against his heels, feeling his fingers twitch around in his pockets.

“Alright, I’ll send him right up!” She ended the call, placing the phone back in its holder.

She then smiled at Izuku before pointing at the elevators behind him, “you can use an elevator. Ms. Shield lives on the fifth floor.”

Izuku nodded and thanked her before turning around to the elevators. He picked on towards the left and stepped inside of it, waiting for it to close before choosing the button that said “five.” The doors closed as generic elevator music played throughout the rising mechanical box. Izuku sighed, pulling off the fake glasses, before pushing his curls out of his face.

Third floor…

Fourth floor…

The elevator dinged as the door opened, revealing the fifth floor. Izuku stepped out of the elevator, using the signs on the walls to find his way to Melissa’s apartment. Walking past all the other doors, of the patrons of the apartment, who were currently sleeping to the world. Unaware that their number one hero was sneaking past them, claiming to be ending an illicit relationship.” Seeing the apartment number up ahead, Izuu could feel his heart beat faster. Taking another deep breath, he stopped right in front of the pitch-black door. Swallowing his spit, he closed his eyes before knocking on the door a couple of times. Almost immediately after he knocked, the door opened, causing Izuku’s eyes to shoot open, jumping back a little as Melissa stepped into the doorframe. Izuku was about to speak when his eyes drifted down to what she was wearing. It was a simple white t-shirt, ending right at her upper thigh. Izuku licked his dry lips, before looking back up at Melissa’s face who was giving him a knowing smile, that looked smug as well.

“Izuku,” her usually peachy tone came out a little subtle, silky and sultry, “I’m so happy to see you after so long. Come in.”

Izuku simply nodded as Messlia stepped to the side, allowing him to enter her expensive apartment, which could be classified as a penthouse. Izuku looked around, his eyes landing on all the decorations around her living room. He walked toward her wall, where she hung pictures. There were pictures of Melissa with her dad, her mom, All Might, and a couple of her friends from I-island. He continued looking around, before his eyes landing on a picture of the two of them, back when he was a first-year.

“You were so short back then,” Izuku heard Melissa say, as she came to stand next to him.

Izuku just nodded, continuing to look at the frames. He was enveloped in the nostalgia he was facing when he didn’t even notice Melissa coming up behind him. He only noticed her when he felt a hand coming up around his waist. He froze, his heart pounding away in his ears. She then stood right behind him, before pressing up against his back next, her hands now circling his waist.

“Melissa…” he started, feeling her fingers mess with his zipper and belt under his overcoat jacket.

God, was she wearing anything under that shirt? He could feel her breasts, her hardened nipples pressing against his back. He took another deep breath, licking his lips before moving his hands to where her own was and prying them off his belt, just as she was beginning to unbuckle it.

“Melissa, we can’t do this. I’m married. Happily married at that. I can’t keep doing this to her.”

Melissa only hummed, moving her body from behind his own, stepping in front of him. She was wet, her long wavy dripping down her face and body. The water from her wet hair dripped onto her shirt, her white, very thin shirt. Izuku’s breath hitched as he slowly glanced down her body, her nipples visibly being shown through the fabric.

“Yet, you can’t keep your eyes off me Izuku.” Hands grabbed at his jacket, pulling him closer to her.

Izuku gasped as Melissa brought her hand, cupping his face before bringing it down. Izuku gasped once again as he felt lips upon his own, feeling her other hand reach inside his jacket to pull him closer by the waist. Izuku was about to push her away, he needed to push her away. God, he was married for fucks sake, to someone who loved him dearly. But her lips, they felt so good to him. Glossed from the shower she took, they tasted of mint and strawberries. Izuku, taking a deep breath, went to push off his jacket, never letting go of the kiss. Mellissa, smirking into the kiss, helped him out of the jacket before squealing as Izuku scooped her up before slamming her on the wall.

“This is a one-time thing,” he mumbled against her lips, using his hips to hold her up against the wall as he took off his shirt next.

“Yeah…” Mellissa said with a skeptical tone, feeling his hands go under her wet shirt next.

“A one-time thing…”

Izuku groaned, throwing the papers in his hands across his desk. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself out of his desk. He stood up from out of his chair, walking over to the wall which was replaced with windows, looking down upon the city of Mustafa. He could hear the faint sounds of cars driving and honking, he could see the civilians, everyone he protects. Looking across the street, he could see a cafe. It was one that he frequents since it’s so close. The door opened, and it revealed a couple. A laughing couple. The man was holding a medium-sized bag, with the logo of the cafe plastered across the bag. He was wearing a dark brown suede jacket that was buttoned shut. The woman was wearing a matching jacket, wearing as a dress, her curly hair pulled up in a bun. She held their coffees as they walked along the sidewalk. Izuku smiled sadly, before looking over to the couch in his office.

Laughter rang out inside the office, the sun had already gone down a long time ago and the night shift heroes were all out patrolling, leaving Izuku, a couple of sidekicks, and a couple of more janitors. It was your anniversary, but unfortunately, a string of villain attacks happened today. This pulled Deku out of his day off and kept him away. So, you decided to surprise me with dinner at his office. You cooked shrimp alfredo, packing it in pretty containers, before stopping by a couple of stores, buying a fancy cake that said “Happy Anniversary.” The last thing you bought was some expensive alcohol, a bottle of wine and champagne just in case. She then dressed up, a dark green silk dress paired with a matching coat and heeled shoes. She brought a few decorations before carrying all of that, using your clouds. Izuku smiled once he walked into the office with everything, abandoning his work and helped you set up the table.

The two of you enjoyed dinner together, talking about your day, specifically on how Izuku was swamped with back-to-back villain attacks. To the point where he was the same police officer twice in two different scenes. After dinner, the two of you move to the couch, still holding your wine glasses now filled with champagne.

“I have a gift for you,” Izuku mentioned, pushing himself up off the couch before going behind his desk, going through the drawers.

You giggled, shifting around the couch to get a little more comfortable, your jacket long discarded. Izuku hissed out a “here it is!”, before pulling out a neatly wrapped box, closing the drawer with his foot. You took another sip of your bubbly alcohol as Izuku skipped over to you with the box in hand.

“Here you go, darling!”

You smiled, placing your glass on the small lamp table to the right of you before sitting up and taking the box from your husband. He smiled at you as he sat beside you, seeing you begging to open up the carefully placed wrapping paper. Once all the wrapping paper was removed from the box, you gasped, seeing the logo on the box. BVLGARI. A smile slowly appeared on your face as you untied the golden silk ribbon. Slowly lifting the top of the box, you pulled out of the pure white tissue paper. This revealed one of the most beautiful necklaces and earrings you’ve ever seen. It was an emerald necklace, it had two emeralds, and also was decorated with mini diamonds along the border, and considering the brand, you knew it was real. The earrings were dangly and matched the way the smaller emerald looked on the necklace.

“Izuku… it’s beautiful…”

He smiled, taking the box out of your hands before taking the necklace out of the box. He whispered at you to turn around. Following his instructions, you swept your goddess braids to the side as he placed the necklace around your neck, the cool feeling of the metal tingly against your warm skin. Izuku then connected the chain, letting the necklace fall against your nape before leaning over your shoulder and placing a light kiss on top of her almost-bare shoulder. You shuddered, leaning into his touch as his hands moved from your shoulders, trailing down your body to rest them on your hips. You let out a moan, feeling him give your neck a nip, reaching up to grab him by his messy curls. You smirked, before sighing into the neck kisses he was leaving on your neck.

“You smell,” he inhaled slowly, “really fucking good.”

Giggling at his words, you placed your own hands on top of his own before turning around. You lifted yourself off the chair. Izuku lifted an eyebrow as you placed your hands behind your back.

“I have a gift for you too, it’s not a material gift but…” you trialed off as you reached up the straps of your dress, before beginning to slowly pull them down, revealing the thin straps of your expensive lingerie.

Izuku’s eyes sparkled as your dress trailed down your body, revealing the expensive material cut and crafted to fit your body perfectly. The way the emerald green clashed perfectly with your deeper skin. Your manicured hands trailed down your body as your dress pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the sinful lingerie and the heels to match. Izuku licked his bottom lip as you slowly walked over to him, dragging your heels with each step. Lifting yourself, you slowly placed yourself on his lap, feeling Izuku’s hands immediately attach themselves to your hips. He gave you a sly smile, looking up at you.

“And you look so amazing,” he gave your body another glance, making you smirk and lean back, using your arms and hands to steady you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck before diving into a kiss. His lips tasted of mint and strawberries, it was a new taste but one you didn’t mind. Deepening the kiss, you gasped as you felt Izuku’s hard on all the way through his pants.

“I love you so much, Izuku Midoriya.”

A moment of silence went by.

“I love you too, Y/n Midoriya.”

Izuku took a deep breath and was about to open the next one when his phone, his personal one, started ringing. He reached in the drawer and pulled it out and looked at the screen. Sweetheart was calling, a picture of you and Izuku at your wedding anniversary plastered across the screen. Izuku was less blacked up back then, and you still had a crutch from your physical therapy from your incident. But god did you both look so beautiful and happy. Izuku was wearing his suit from the wedding but without the jacket and a couple of buttons unfastened. You, however, changed out of your wedding dress into a white velvet dress that was strapless and came with these long gloves in the similar fabric that you only wore for official pictures. Izuku was carrying you bridal style along with the rest of you and his family and his closest friends.

Izuku simply smiled sadly, before answering the call.

“Y/n?”

He heard nothing at first, nothing but the phone static so he called out your name again. This time he heard someone take a deep, trembling breath as if they had been crying for a long time.

“Izuku.” Your voice was scratchy, and hoars too. Izuku could feel his heartbreak and drop to his ass all at the same time. He did that.

God he was supposed to be a hero, save people and never let them down.

Now he may have just ruined his marriage.

“Y/n.” He said again, “how- how are you?”

“I’ve called a divorce lawyer.”

Oh. Straight to the bullet.

“We can’t- we can’t talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about? You did this to me. You did this to us. Now face the fucking consequences of your actions.” Your voice was scratchy, the rasp appearing with each word you say.

“I know what I did.”

“And yet, you still did it.”

Izuku took a deep breath, leaning back into his chair. He looked up at the ceiling of his office, looking at the dazzling, overhanging chandelier in the middle of it.

“So there’s nothing I can say or do to convince you to stay?”

“You can have the house, as long as you pay me alimony for the next two-three years, for a reasonable price of course.”

You completely ignored his question, going straight into what was going to happen next. Izuku took another deep breath, this time leaning against his hand as he placed his elbow, pointed up, against his desk.

“So this is it?”

“This is it, Izuku. I told myself I would never lessen myself for a man, and I already broke that when I quit my job. I’m not gonna keep doing that to myself.”

“I-I love you.”

You gave off an airy chuckle as if you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. And with that you ended the call, those being one of the last words you’ll be saying to him until the meetings between the two of you and your divorce lawyers.

---

“Y/n?” A muffled voice called out, pulling you out of your sleep along with knocks on your door

You pushed yourself off the bed, throwing the hotel blankets off your body. It was late at night, you went back home after your impromptu visit with your mother. You packed up what you could in one go before stuffing it in your car. You couldn’t see Izuku after that, so you tried your best to remove any trace of yourself from that house. You were just about to fall asleep, the tv playing a random 90s show for background noise. Digging through one of your suitcases, you found a robe to wrap around your body before moving towards the door.

You summoned lightning in one hand as you checked who was at the door. Seeing red-and-white hair, along with a bright blue eye and a dull grey eye, you took a deep sigh of relief before slowly opening the door. Standing there, wearing a raincoat and holding a closed umbrella was Shoto Todoroki. His hair that grew since high school was pulled back in a ponytail as he looked down upon with concerned eyes.

“Y/n…”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as he said your name. You then opened them back up before giving him a sad smile.

“Shoto… can I help you?” You leaned against the doorway, placing a hand in your waist.

“I heard from Izuku, the two of you are getting a divorce?”

You leaned into the hallway, looking to see if anyone saw him before pulling him into your hotel room. You closed the door and locked it behind you immediately before turning on the light. Shoto looked around the luxury rented room, seeing all of your suitcases and other items stacked up against a wall. Feeling your hands tremble, you sat on your bed, folding your hands underneath themselves.

“How did-“ your voice came out raspy and dry, so you cleared your throat before speaking again.

“How did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

Shoto simply smiled, “being the #3 hero has its perks. I figured you didn’t want a lot of people crowding around you so I said I’d talk to you.”

Hearing that, you lifted your head swiftly, “people already know about the divorce?”

Shot shrugged off his raincoat, revealing the long sleeve black turtleneck he was wearing. He placed his umbrella in a random corner before going to sit beside you on the bed.

“After what happened this morning, Izuku only told us that you’re leaving him… and wouldn’t tell us why. We called everyone, Uraraka, Iida, Kirishima, we even called his mom and All Might… all he said was that his marriage was over. No reason as to why…”

You let out a slight chuckle, your shoulders jumping slightly at the irony of the situation.

“So the only person you could come to was me, right?”

Shoto simply nodded his head, shifting his body closer to you.

“Y/n… I know you… you aren’t this rash person. You wouldn’t come to this decision on a whim. I thought you and Izuku were okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you spoke, “I thought we were okay too… Shoto I… he…”

Your body shuddered and shook as sobs flew out of your mouth. As tears fell, you covered your face and turned away from Shoto, hunching over yourself. That’s when you feel hands, one warm and the other cold, pull at you, grabbing at your waist before pulling you into a warm body. Shoto’s comforting hands and his placing you on the fireside of his body allowed him to let it all out once again. He didn’t say a word, only letting out soft shushes in your ear as you continued to cry.

You could hear nothing else other than the air conditioning and your cries echo throughout your room. It felt like an eternity before you slowly started to quiet down. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself out of Shoto’s hold before getting up to get a water bottle. Shoto, his eyes still shining with concern, said nothing as you twisted the cap open and drank half the bottle.

As the pudding of your head slowly went away, you placed the bottle on the desk before sitting back on the bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry my eyes out all over you,” you apologized, grabbing one of the pillows to hold closer to your body.

Shoto shook his head, waving off your concerns, “it’s okay, it’s black anyways.”

You just nodded your head and looked away.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Why are you and Izuku getting a divorce?”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing with everything you’ve been through… the day you met Izuku, the day you asked him out for the first time, the day he asked to be your girlfriend, the day he proposed… the day you two got married… everything.

“Izuku… he cheated on me…”

It was silent after that, the buzz of the air conditioning and the beeps of the cars below the two of you filling the tense air.

“He… he what?”

You bit your bottom lip as you spoke again, “he cheated on me, with Mellissa, you remember her right? Melissa Shield? All Might’s “niece”?”

Shoto nodded his head, shifting his body to face forward as he leaned forward, using his hands to steady himself. He lifted his head to the ceiling as he fully processed your words.

“Oh… oh wow… I never thought that he would do that.”

You scoffed, flopping back into the bed, “well me neither, and yet… here we are.”

You started to laugh, laugh at this situation, laugh at here you are now. God, everything was so fucked, wasn’t it? Feeling the bed shift, you could feel Shoto lay down on the bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you before pulling you into him once again, this time leaving you on his right side so you could cool down. The feeling left sighing, leaning into his touch even more.

“Izuku is an absolute idiot, and I’m glad that you’re leaving him at the first sight of disrespect.”

Coming from Todoroki and his background, those meant a lot to you. You smiled before lifting your head to look at him.

“Thanks, Shoto, that means a lot.”

He smiled, before slowly removing his hands from your waist.

“I should let you sleep, I just wanted to come to check up on you.” He bent over to grab at his umbrella before turning around to grab his raincoat.

Sniffling, you nodded your head, wiping away your tears before getting up to see him off, “thanks for coming to check up on me… even though the way you found me was a little creepy.”

—-

You officially divorced three months after that day, Izuku tried to hold out as long as he could but soon enough even the number one hero couldn't hold out that long. The number of times you had to tell him you weren't going to come back to him was astounding, his stubbornness knew no bounds. You allowed Izuku to keep the house and he was to pay you a hefty amount of alimony along with the money he was to pay you for spousal distress.

When news came out that the number one hero and his wife would be divorcing, the media went into a frenzy. Even bigger than the one about your wedding. You had to rely on your family to help you out until the news and paparazzi left you alone. It was even worse on Deku, being the top hero and not even able to save his marriage? Talk about a blow to his reputation, it almost cost him the #1 spot. If it wasn't for the Incident at the Kasona Mall, where a villain decided to blow up a mall, where he saved over 50 people in one swoop, Bakugo would have finally been able to claim that #1 spot.

Speaking of pro-heroes.

H/n is back on the scene! Officially signing with The Todoroki Agency!!

You were a pro-hero again, stepping back into the spotlight after over six years. After not much deliberation, and encouragement from friends alike, you decided to come out of retirement once more. You had to retake the licensing process and test of course, but you passed with ease. Being a hero was almost like riding a bike, it was ingrained within you. After The Hero Commission reinstated you, you got so many offers. From Fatgum to LeMillion, and Gang Orca. However, you already promised a certain person that you would join up with him.

“You sure you want me Shoto?” You were sitting in his penthouse, visiting him after he got hurt in the Incident at Kasona mall.

The two of you had gotten closer ever since that day he found you in your hotel room. He helped you get back on your feet, helped you pick out a new house to live in, (since you left the house to Izuku), and helped you study to retake the test. He nodded, shifting his position on his couch. The movement however, caused him to wince as he had to move his arm, which slung into a cast. You immediately got up and helped him move into a more comfortable position without straining himself. He thanked you for the help as you sat back down, grabbing your glass of wine.

“Yeah, you were an amazing hero when you were active years ago. I know this is a decision I’ll lose no sleep over.”

You chuckled, sipping on the wine he put out for the two of you. He smiled softly at you, his intense stare causing your body to heat up slightly, or that could be from the alcohol, you honestly didn't know. You licked your lips, shifting your legs to help lessen that heated throb between your thighs.

“Alright, I guess I’m joining your agency.”

You grew out of your old outfit, so with the help of Hatsume and other designers, you got a whole new outfit. Instead of the original leotard/bodysuit you had when you were younger, along with the thigh boots, it all connected into all one large jumpsuit. It was black with purple accents adorning all across the outfit along with a brand new cape. You turned around, summoning clouds to lift you as you twirled around. Hatsume, the designer who made your new hero costume, Hokkaido, and Mina, who you also told about the true reason you and Izuku got divorced, all smiled as you felt out your new outfit.

“Well?” Mina asked, smiling as you landed on your feet.

You turned around, trailing your hands down your body, feeling the aft fabric and metal accents clash together on your body before smiling at yourself in the mirror.

“I love it.”

Your office was on the same floor as Shoto’s, him constantly relying on your knowledge and wisdom on other matters. The two of you were the leaders in the recent missions the two of you had taken together. This whole process was a lot like riding a bike, coming back easily. You had missed this, you had missed this so much, and you could tell the world and missed you too.

The media accepted your return with open arms, jumping right back to the top 20s. You were a very powerful hero after all.

After three months of coming back, making it six months since your divorce, your parents decided to throw a party for you. To celebrate you coming back, and ranking high on the Billboard Chart in so little time. You tried to get yourself out of it but they took no excuses. So you decided to make the most of it, you felt like a whole new woman. Placing your braids in a bun, you wore a strapless black velvet dress with matching long-sleeved gloves. You slipped on some ankle-strap, black stilettos, and pearl jewelry set to complete the look. The party was small but it was filled with life, all of your old classmates and even your old co-workers from your old agency even came. Mina, Jirou, Tsu, and even Yaomomo, as busy as she is, came. Kirishima even got Bakugou to come. Everyone was so excited to see you come out of retirement and take to the streets again. Some did try to pry into your broken relationship with Izuku, but you just ignored them and told them to enjoy themselves at the party.

“Y/n.”

You turned around to see Shoto standing there with two champagne flutes in his hands. You smiled and walked up to him, hands extended out for a hug. He wrapped his arms around the best he could with the two drinks in his hands. You giggled at his struggle as he tried to step back without spilling the drinks.

“I see your hands are full, Boss.” You winked as you took one of the flutes of champagne out of his hands.

He just chuckled as you guys cheered, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. As the sweet liquid hit your tongue, your eyes trailed down his body at the suit he was wearing. All black suit with the jacket, with a white dress shirt, red tie and tailored to perfection. You licked your lips as he breathed in, seeing his chest press up against the white fabric. Clearing your throat, you pulled your eyes away from his chest as you looked up at him finishing his drink. You smiled at him and he returned it as he placed the glasses on an empty table.

“You seem so much happier.” You heard Shoto comment behind you.

You turned to face him and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Shoto walked up to you, the proximity between you two making your heart pound this a little faster. He leaned down, using his right hand to make you look in his eyes.

“When you first announced your retirement, and when I saw you after that… I do not doubt that you were happy but…” he trailed, his grip on your chin tightening slightly.

“But… but what?” You let out a whisper, feeling his thumb softly move against your skin.

“There was still this sadness in your eyes, that I could never pinpoint but now… I can’t see it at all.” He let go of you after that, taking a couple of steps back.

You took another deep breath, pressing a hand against your chest to feel your beating heart.

Smiling at Shoto, “thank you, that means a lot.”

The two of you continued to drink together, whether it be champagne or something stronger. The more the drinks came around you two, the two of you drank, and the more you two drank, the more handsy the two of you got. Shoto’s arms never left your waist and would find themselves trailing lower and lower down your body. You would find ways and excuses to slowly caress his face or his chest. The two of you would just get closer and closer. Luckily, most everyone around was drunk so even if they did notice, it was unlikely that they would notice. Soon enough, people began to leave, wishing you the best of luck and congratulations.

Then it was just the two of you. Shoto, despite being as drunk as you are, helped carry you to your bed upstairs. As he laid you in the bed, you reached out to him, pulling him down onto you and your bed. You giggled as he flopped on his back, allowing you to quickly straddle him.

“Y/n,” he giggled, he was more emotional, happy drunk, “Y/n why are you doing?”

You smiled, licking and biting at your lips as your hands trailed down his body. Feeling at his chest, before trailing down his abs, your hands and fingers going ever ripple and ridge on his body before landing right in the top of his pelvic area, feeling his hard-on poke out through his slacks. You hissed slowly as you began to rock into him, your dress riding up with every movement you made. Your movements caused him to whisper curses under his breath, his hips buck as he grabbed onto your waist tightly. You gripped at his shoulders as he guided you up and down his waist, his touch leaving your skin electrified, the opposite temperatures causing trembles throughout your body. You then leaned down to plant light kisses against his neck

“You’re so fucking handsome,” you whispered against his skin, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt.

He just smirked before flipping you on your back, using his knee to spread your legs.

——

It was a week after the party and you had just gotten back from your shift of patrol. It was early in the morning, say almost 4 am, and you were ready to go home and get some sleep. Saying goodbye to your sidekick, you walked towards your office to get some final papers before going home. As you opened the door, you could feel dull light entering your vision. So you turned and followed where it was coming from only to find yourself right outside of Shoto’s door. That’s where you could hear the argument.

“Izuku I—”

“NO— I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU, YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY EX-WIFE!”

“I think you’re the last person to be concerned about what she does now!”

“You’re one of my closest friends, I’ve known you the longest! And you just stab me in the back like this!?”

“I think that you should leave Izuku before I make you. What Y/n and I have, it’s none of your business.”

You could hear a slam, and hear something break before hearing heavy stomps echo throughout the room. You hoped it didn’t come to them full-on fighting, you knew Shoto could handle himself against, however, when Izuku was mad, Lord did he get mad. You hope you won't have to face him again, after all this time.

“I don’t want to hear a word you have to say!! I should have known, you’ve ALWAYS been chasing after her! Since our time at U.A!

You tilted your head at that, confused at what he meant. Shoto has been chasing after you since high school? You thought that Shoto always had a thing for Yaomomo, despite her and Jirou getting engaged recently. It was because of that, you believed Shoto had shifted his focus onto you…

“So what? I thought I left her in good hands, out of all my friends, you were the ONLY one that I thought could give her a good life. I thought you could love her and only be with her! Now I see that I couldn’t even trust you with that! So you don’t get to decide how she spends her time and who she spends it with! Not after what you did to her!”

It went quiet after that, but you could still see the heavy breathing out of both of them. You bit your lip, heart pounding as you grasped at the wall, staring to hear to see if they speak under their breath.

“What… what are you talking about?”

“She told me… she told me what you did... How you cheated on her with Melissa. Don’t give me that look, I’m not gonna tell anyone. She asked me not to, it’ll do no one any good if it got all. They’ll just hound her for months for this.”

You could feel your body begin to rock back and forth, you could feel the tension rising all the way from the place where you would stand.

“So I say again, you have no right to have any say about what she does in her own time. Even when she was married to you, she was never yours! She’s her own woman, and after being suffocated by you, she deserves to do whatever she wants. I’ll be here, no matter what, and I’ll stick by her because that’s what people who truly love someone do!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, you could feel tears swell in your waterline. Taking a deep breath, you stood up slowly, brushing off any dirt or dust collected on your lap before walking towards the door. You gave a knock on the door, before slowly turning the doorknob to reveal a trashed office. Plants turning upside down, smaller tables flipped around, and books spread all across the floor. Your eyes then landed on the two of them, standing behind the bigger office desk. Izuku was holding Shoto by his shirt, and the two of them had intense looks on their faces. You took another deep breath, seeing the way Izuku looks after so long. He grew out his beard, despite him hating it so much. His already scruffy, curly hair grew even more unruly. His eyes turned towards you, the shock after seeing you so long causing him to lose his grip on Shoto.

“Y/n…”

You closed your eyes and rolled your neck before closing the door behind you.

“Shoto is correct, what I do with my time is absolutely none of your business Izuku. We’re done, we’ve been done for six months. If I’m going, to be honest, we’ve been done for a year… since you had an affair with Melissa for six months as well,” you stated, slowly walking up towards the two of them.

“So what I do with him, what I do with anyone… is no longer your business. Now get out!”

Izuku stood there, shocked at your words, slowly turning his body to face you.

“Y/n I…” You made a motion with your hands, quieting him.

“Izuku Midoriya, get out now!”

He jumped back, before turning back to Shoto, giving him one last glare before walking past you towards the door. You kept your back towards him, and the door as well, as he opened it before walking out, shutting it behind him. With that, you then turned to the last man standing in the room. You gave him a soft smile, slowly shaking your head as you amble across to him. You placed your hands on his biceps as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He smiled down at you, before leaning in for a soft kiss. You chuckled and smiled into the kiss, tightening your grip on his arms. You could feel the grip you had on you tighten with every second of the kiss. Once you let go, you slowly reached up to caress the side of his face with the scar with your hand.

“You look stressed… is it because of your day? Or because of the walking trash that just walked out?”

He chuckled softly at your words, shaking his head. You smiled as you walked towards his desk, moving some of the papers off before sitting on top of his desk. Shoto gave you an up and down glance, before walking towards you and standing in between your legs.

“So… why was Izuku here?” You asked him, rubbing at his shoulders and arms.

Shoto took a deep breath before leaning forward and laying his head on top of your shoulders.

“He came up here, accusing me of different things. I never found out he found out that the two of us were seeing each other… I was more focused on other things…”

Izuku was always so stubborn, that could be a good or bad thing depending on who side you were on. You sighed, nodding your head as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Let’s go to your place? I’m really tired and I honestly just want to get as much sleep as I can.”

You could feel Shoto smile into your shoulder, before nodding. You were about to push him off of you, so you could both get what you need and walk out together, a sudden force whooshed you off your feet, arms grabbing at you and carrying you in a bridal position.

“Shoto!” You squealed, holding on to his shoulders.

He just softly chuckled once more, as he carried you out of the office, nothing but smiles on the two of you’s faces.

___

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