#anyway that’s friend number 2 who will be married

[wheresmulder]

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[honey-flustered]

Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)

MDNI +18 Only!!

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader

Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)

A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.

CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants

You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.

“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.

“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”

You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.

“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.

“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”

“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”

“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.

“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”

“I’m in!” Essie beams.

“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.

“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”

“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”

You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”

——————

The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.

With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”

“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”

“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.

“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”

Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”

Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”

“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”

“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.

“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.

“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.

“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.

“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.

You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.

Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.

A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.

“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”

You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.

“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”

“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.

You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.

Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.

“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.

“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.

————-

“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.

“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.

“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”

“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to

Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.

“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.

“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”

“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.

“Exactly.” Your father confirms.

You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”

You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”

You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.

————

Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.

Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”

“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”

“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.

“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”

“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”

“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.

“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”

—————

Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.

“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!

“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”

He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”

You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.

He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.

“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”

“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.

“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.

“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”

You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.

“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.

——————

You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.

“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”

“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”

“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.

“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.

“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.”

“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.

“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”

“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.

He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.

But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.

————

The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.

Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Wilbur. His name’s—”

“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”

The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.

It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.

Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.

You raise the paper to your eyes and read:

If I Were A Hobbit

If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free

I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees

With furry feet and a merry heart

From adventure’s call, I’d never depart

With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.

In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme

I’d wander the fields beneath the sun

I’d travel it world cause it’s all in good fun

If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid

But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid

You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.

“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”

You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”

“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”

“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”

He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.

“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.

You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.

“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”

“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”

He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.

It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.

“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.

“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They are like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”

Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.

His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.

You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.

He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.

Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.

————————-

Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.

You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”

“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”

“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from his grasp and into your arms. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.

“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”

“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”

“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.

You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”

“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”

“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.

Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.

You sat on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returned with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.

He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You eish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.

Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?

You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.

“I-I s-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”

You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.

“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.

“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”

“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”

He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”

—————

You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.

“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.

“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

“You know D’N’D?”

“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.

“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”

“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”

“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”

“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.

“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”

“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”

“Yeah right. I seemed like the bad boy type who falls for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”

He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.

“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”

“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.

“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.

“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”

Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.

“What do you want?”

You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—-“

“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.

“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit made me feel stupid and like I needed him as if he created me. And back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. It felt good to give him a piece of my mind although I wish I could have said more.”

“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.

“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.

“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson”

“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”

“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”

“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”

“I could. Considering I am one.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”

“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.

“We’re friends?”

“Us, geeks, stick together?”

“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”

He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.

“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”

“And what about my car?”

“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.

If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.

————

Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.

“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.

Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.

You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”

“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”

“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”

“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped small dick.”

“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She singssongs the last statement.

“I can’t remember. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble or I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”

“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.

Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.

Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.

“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.

“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”

“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”

“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.

“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.

“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.

“Payback’s a bitch, love.”

—————

“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.

“Tana!”

“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.

“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”

“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”

“I’m not!” You insist.

“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.

“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”

“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”

“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.

An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.

You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.

“What the hell is this?” You sneer.

“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.

“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.

“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.

“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.

“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.

Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”

With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.

“If I could just explain...” You begin.

“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”

You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.

“I was just having fun.”

“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”

“Well, I’m not that anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.

Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”

You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”

Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.

“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”

Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.

————-

You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.

A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.

“What do you want, twerp?” You say.

“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.

“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”

“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”

“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak incoherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.

“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.

————

The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.

The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.

However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thought letter long abandoned to the ground.

His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”

He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”

“Understand?” You ask.

“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”

“Accept?”

“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.

“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”

“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”

“Now you could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.

“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.

For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.

“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll be all smug about.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”

You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”

“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.

You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”

Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ears. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”

“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.

“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”

“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”

“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”

“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.

He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”

“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”

“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”

“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”

“You wanted it badly so I let you take it first.”

“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.

“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”

He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.

“You jerk, I just pick all that out of my hair.”

“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.

He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it until he lets out a puff of smoke in the air then looks back down at you once again. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.

Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fullg by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.

The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often growls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.

“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.

“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.

And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.

He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.

Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”

And once again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.

[beom-pyu]

truth or drink! (engaged edition): choi soobin

part 3 of the truth or drink series! <3

other parts: beomgyu & taehyun "my ex + my boyfriend edition" yeonjun "couples edition" kai "blind date edition"

slightly nsfw! (minors dni.)

welcome to truth or drink! engaged couples will ask each other a set of random questions. they can either answer the question or take a shot.

“i’m soobin and this is my fiance...”

“y/n!”

how long have you guys been together?

YOU: "4 and a half years."

how long have you guys been engaged?

SB: “going on 2 months now.”

who talked about marriage first?

SB: “y/n.”

YOU: “me.”

and how did that go?

SB: “they actually said it the first time we met at a mutual friend’s birthday party.”

YOU: “i was shitfaced and he had really cute dimples, so i told him we should get married. and he said okay!”

did you get engaged on the spot?

SB: “they completely forgot who i was by the next day, so i had to do all of the courting and work to even get them to go on a date with me.”

YOU: “it was worth it though.”

SB: “of course it was.”

SOOBIN: what was your first impression of me?

YOU: “other than the birthday incident, i thought you were way cooler than you actually are.”

SB: “am i not cool???”

YOU: “you are like… pitifully cute?”

SB: “that makes me sound like a charity case.”

YOU: “the cutest charity case ever.”

YOU: is there anything about getting married that scares you—something you haven’t shared with me?

SB: “hm… rationally, i know it probably won’t happen, but i feel like you’ll get bored of me at some point?”

YOU: “i could never get bored of you, baby. well… only your league of legends talk, but i love everything else.”

SB: “what’s wrong with my league of legends talk?”

you gently place your hand on top of his.

YOU: “everything.”

SOOBIN: what is something you want to try in the bedroom that we’ve never done before?

YOU: “bottoms up.”

SB: “hey, no! this is a safe space.”

YOU: “i think my mom is watching this, soobin.”

SB: “hi, y/n’s mom. now tell me.”

YOU: “if i say mine, you have to say yours.”

SB: “deal.”

YOU: “i want to like… tie you up.”

SB: “wait, i was gonna say that!”

YOU: “no way.”

SB: “yes way.”

YOU: “see, we’re a match made in heaven.”

YOU: on the count of three, both of us say the number of children we would ideally have.

YOU: “one, two, three. two!”

SB: “five!”

YOU: “five?”

SB: “i was going to say six, but i lowered it just for you.”

you give soobin an incredulous stare.

YOU: “i need a shot.”

SOOBIN: if you had one hall pass, who would you sleep with?

YOU: “people we know or…?”

the producer gives you a thumbs up.

YOU: “i’m gonna drink.”

SB: “wait, now i’m curious.”

YOU: “what about you?”

…

SB: “...pour me one, too.”

YOU: who proposed to who, and how did they propose?

SB: “i proposed. but it was really messy.”

YOU: “really cute actually. he had just gotten home from a month-long business trip and, if you didn’t know, he’s a really emotional person—”

SB: “i’m not that emotional.”

YOU: “you cried watching shrek, honey.”

SB: “that was one time.”

YOU: “you also cried during our first ti—”

SB: “continue on with the proposal, please.”

soobin pours another shot, just because, and you laugh under your breath.

YOU: “i was already in bed when he got home and he just got into bed and started bawling.”

SB: “i wasn’t ‘bawling’, i was sniffling.”

YOU: “you were bawling. anyways, he pulled me into his arms and was just like ‘please, please marry me, the love of my life, my entire universe, i can’t live without you, i need you forever—’”

SB: “okay, now you’re just making stuff up.”

YOU: “so you admit you were bawling?”

...

SB: “next question.”

SOOBIN: have you ever seriously considered breaking up with me?

YOU: “i wouldn’t say seriously…”

SB: “so you actually have considered it?”

the pout on soobin’s lips is prominent.

YOU: “you know work takes up a lot of your time, and i didn’t really understand where you were coming from in the beginning. so i guess i’ve thought about it once or twice, but i never really wanted to go through with it. i can’t see myself with anyone else but you.”

SB: “i think i’m the only one that can handle you, anyways.”

YOU: “woah, what does that mean?”

soobin just laughs and kisses the back of your hand.

SB: “take it as you will, baby.”

YOU: how often do we have sex, and how often should we have sex?

SB: “every other day…? i feel like that's more than average.”

YOU: “yeah, you’re very needy.”

SB: “i’m not needy. i’m just obsessed with you.”

YOU: “see, look, you’re trying to get into my pants right now!”

SB: “...is it working?”

YOU: “yes.”

SOOBIN: when was the last time you masturbated, and where was i?

YOU: “like, two days ago? and you were out with one of your friends.”

SB: “i still don’t know if he accidentally saw the videos you sent me or not...”

YOU: “doesn’t sound like you’re complaining.”

SB: “i’m the only one who can fuck you right, so i’m not worried.”

YOU: “mom, if you’re watching this. i’ve never had sex. i don’t even know what sex is.”

YOU: who or what do you picture when masturbating?

SB: “your ass. and your lips.”

YOU: “that was quick, woah.”

SB: “sorry y/n’s mom.”

SOOBIN: what’s your favorite and least favorite sex position?

YOU: “i think i like spooning the most? only because i don’t have to do a lot of work.”

SB: “i can’t believe you tried to convince me you’re not a pillow princess.”

YOU: “i’m not! i can be on top if i want to!”

SB: “isn’t that your least favorite though?”

YOU: “yes, but anything is good if it involves your dick so…”

SB: “and you say i’m the needy one.”

YOU: “it’s mutual!”

YOU: the average duration of sex for most couples is 10 minutes. how long do you think we last?

SB: “honestly, hours.”

YOU: “he has an inhuman libido. please pray for me.”

SB: “okay, ‘inhuman’ is an exaggeration.”

YOU: “no, you are like superman. i’m serious.”

SOOBIN: what is my biggest flaw?

YOU: “you only dress up if it’s for special occasions.”

SB: “i try my best!”

YOU: “will you let me reform your closet?”

SB: “as long as you’re paying.”

YOU: “...nevermind. you look sexy in sweatpants anyways.”

SOOBIN: about 40 to 60% of married couples divorce. do you think we will last?

YOU: “check back in after a year.”

SB: “woah, i thought we were going to grow old and wrinkly and brittle together? you don’t want to bump canes?”

YOU: “i don’t like the way you worded that.”

SB: “so i’m going to take that as a yes.”

you roll your eyes, but a smile forms on your face nonetheless.

YOU: “in all seriousness, you know i’m in love with you and i don’t think there’s anyone else out there that i’d even consider marrying. i’d love to grow wrinkly and old with you.”

SB: “awe, my little prune.”

YOU: “you’re so weird.”

SB: “and now you’re stuck with me forever~”

you look towards the camera.

YOU: “save me, please.”

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[novalpha]

𝘑𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘢 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut) || ✹ Humor

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Virgin killer ♡★ -> @wonusite Part 2

Synopsis: You can’t stand the clear line the cute nerd in your calculus class always draws between you two. However, you’re determined to show him that there’s a fine line between love and hate. And if you happen to get him to cross that line, even better.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Anonymously Yours ♡୨୧✹ -> @joonsytip

Synopsis: After an accidental text message turns into a digital friendship, you and Joshua start crushing on each other without realizing you both see each other frequently in real life. Notable Mention: You both hate each other's guts....

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Pretty when you cry ★ -> @cheolhub

summary. joshua just loves how pretty you look when you’re in tears.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Say it back ♡ -> @diamondyjh

Synopsis: A tipsy Joshua is a clingy Joshua.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Vanilla ★♡ -> @milfgyuu

Summary: Joshua has a secret but perhaps it’s not really a secret at all. Maybe you’ve just refused to see it in an effort to keep your feelings at bay.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Wildest dreams ♡✹ -> @viastro

synopsis: it’s your last year of school forever, and you’re about to meet the most horrifying chapter of life: the real world. now worrying about your life’s lack of spontaneity, you decide to get married to your best friend in vegas for 24 hours.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Beautiful day Sunday morning ★♡ -> @sluttywoozi

Summary: Joshua’s tried everything, but he just can’t stop being in love with his best friend

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Steamy ★ -> @duhnova

next door neighbor!joshua - unfortunately in the middle of your shower your hot water breaks so you have to go next door and ask your unnaturally hot neighbor if you can use his

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Domino ♡✹★ -> @universecorp

Summary: After a one night stand on your birthday, you never expected to meet the stranger again. You also never expected him to enter your life permanently.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Under the rose ♡★ -> @just-come-baek

Summary: You’ve known Joshua your entire life, and it has always irked you when he got praised for the same things you were scolded for. You hate these societal double standards thrown upon you almost as much as people who judge you for it. Thankfully, you have Joshua, who just gets you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Late to the party ★ -> @sluttywoozi Part 2 , Sundress Szn

Summary: You try to convince Joshua to go to Cheol's birthday party. Joshua tries to convince you to have a party for two | husband!joshua, husband joshua is horny and in love with you

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Your gentleman ★ -> @wonwussy

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Leaning on the everlasting arms ♡୨୧★ -> @onlyhuis

synopsis | as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Best friend's brother ♡୨୧★ -> @chocosvt

synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ To you ♡୨୧★ -> @onlymingyus

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Fine line ♡୨୧★ -> @heartkyeom

synopsis: as a joshua fangirl, getting the chance to interview him as a teenager was an absolute dream. 10 years later with a flourishing career as a writer and a strained relationship with him, he wants to do a 10 year reunion interview about his path to the upcoming Olympics. there’s only one problem: you’re staying at his house and trying not to address your old feelings for him.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Untitled ♡୨୧ -> @gyu-effect

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Paint by numbers ♡୨୧ -> @chocosvt

synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong. 

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Golden Hour ♡ -> @dkfile

summer ends in less than a month, leaving you with a limited amount of time to build up the courage to profess your undying love for your best friend before he leaves again for college. alternatively the summer of pining, featuring a group of annoyed bystanders.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Cranberry concoctions ♡୨୧★ -> @onlyhuis

synopsis | you came to the infamous diamond glass looking for a good cocktail. instead, you found love in a hot bartender who also makes the best cosmos you’ve ever had.

[ More joshua recs will be updated ]

Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click here

[gold-rhine]

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible. 

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine. 

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame. 

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters. 

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether. 

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block. 

Wriothesley made the arrangements. 

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner. 

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head. 

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.” 

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded. 

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world. 

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid. 

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs. 

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position. 

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance. 

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather. 

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting. 

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding. 

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words. 

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head. 

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued. 

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink. 

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate. 

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity.  Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this. 

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses. 

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.” 

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.” 

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned. 

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully. 

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. “This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.” 

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens. 

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long. 

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Where Do We Go From Here - Part 2

Summary: Two funerals. Two couples. A tragedy like no other. And one big secret.

A/N: Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here’s something different, I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment, heart and reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, F! Reader x Rhodey, Tony Stark x Reader (eventually)

Warning: 18+ angst, minors DNI, death, infidelity, smoking, mentions of self-harm and suicide. Hurt comfort.

Word count: 2721

Square filled: We deserve much better than we’ve had

Read Part 1 here

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

.

“I love you, Mr. Rhodes.”

“I love you more, Mrs. Rhodes.”

Content.

That was a primary feeling among others, contentment and giddiness. It was the happiest day of your life. You had married your love, James Rhodes. The ceremony was everything you had wished for and more, all of your friends and family watched happily as you exchanged vows and rings, grinning ear to ear as you were declared man and wife.

The day you met him, or rather evening at Tony Stark’s party, hadn’t been the most perfect. Hell, you were too wasted to even remember but Rhodey had dropped you home - more like carried you, tucked you in bed, and left some Advil along with a note like a gentleman, a tiny smiley face with his number that had you giggling like a teenager. And that was the beginning of your relationship.

And exactly six months later you were dancing to your favorite song with your new husband who had a firm arm around your back, the other holding your hand while you lay your cheek against his chest, loving every minute of the moment. The song ended and you broke apart, reluctantly letting him go, you pecked him on his lips a couple times before excusing yourself to use the ladies room.

The door seemed to be locked so you gave a soft knock, frowning when you heard muffled voices of what sounded like two people arguing. Twisting the knob, you entered anyway because you couldn’t wait and stumbled on Tony and Pepper. They had been squabbling.

“I’m really sorry guys, I–I couldn’t wait.” you hurried into a stall, gathering your wedding gown as best as you could. You heard Pepper storm off, the clicking of her heels wasn’t exactly silent, before Tony’s footsteps receded soon after. As you headed out, Tony had been leaning against the opposite wall, looking tired and mildly irritated.

“All okay?” you asked, genuinely concerned for two of your closest friends. He waved his hand in dismissal and shrugged, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

“Was that payback for me accidentally walking in on you in your bridal gown?” Tony jested, making you giggle as well as recalled the moment that happened just a few hours ago. Someone incorrectly told Tony about Rhodey’s room and he had barged in on you with two of your bridesmaids after you had just put on your wedding dress. He could’ve sworn his heart had stopped at that moment. You were stunning, so beautiful he actually struggled to form words. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Tony had left, not before giving you a once over, the image of you had been stuck in his mind for posterity. He couldn’t help but feel how lucky his best friend was.

“Oh God no! That was um, I just really had to go. I didn’t know you guys would be in there, arguing.” you blinked, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“While women’s bathrooms are at the top of my list for quarreling, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Tony had a knack for making a joke out of serious situations, you knew that, you wondered if that was one of the reasons for him and Pepper arguing. Pepper, as far as you knew, was a no-nonsense person. As the two of you walked back towards the hall, you saw your new husband deep in conversation with her. Thinking nothing of it, you turned to Tony.

“I should probably–”

“Good luck with–”

You spoke at the same time, chuckling as Tony scratched the back of his neck, looking back up at you with a sincere smile on his face.

“Good luck with your marriage, Y/N. I hope you two are happy, and not just for the pictures.”

The sun had risen a few hours ago, heavy curtains blocked most of the light where you lay in the guest bed, working up the courage to face the day. Pepper’s funeral had been another painful reminder of your new reality. People kept offering their condolences to Tony who had his stoic facade on, occasionally looking out for you to check if you were still around. You had made it a point to be there for him, he wasn’t exactly volatile but the man needed you to ground him, probably more than you needed him. Or maybe it was the same. Who knew?

All you knew was if there was anybody in the world who could get what you were going through, it was Tony. And it was the same for him. It was the strangest and the most tragic connection you two had now.

You stood outside your house and stared at it, a house that held so many memories, happy memories with you and James. It was now just walls and bricks. Tony had been reluctant to leave you alone but after much assurance, he dropped you here and left for work.

You went on a cleaning spree once you stepped in, the kitchen had been dirty, your bed was unkempt. Blasting on some loud music that you knew James would’ve hated if he were alive, you cleaned the house. And you actually felt better once you were finished. It was exhausting but therapeutic. Your mood had been lifted enough for you to make a batch of mini blueberry pies to take back to Tony’s. The only thing that you dreaded was opening the closet, conflicted between never wanting to find out what he had been hiding in there and wanting to know everything and be done with it.

.

He was smiling. Not believing this was his reality now, everything was perfect, everything felt right. The way it was supposed to be. A comfortable peace settled in his chest as he watched you from afar, laughing with your friend, Pepper as you cooked. A glass of wine in one hand while you stirred a pot with the other, lips curved into the most gorgeous smiles that always set his heart racing, Tony could feel the love radiating off of him.

Catching his eye, you winked, causing him to chuckle before making your way over, your beautiful face forming a frown as you saw the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Coffee? Really, Tony?” you placed your hands on your hips, giving him a stern look.

“And then you wonder why you can’t sleep at night.”

“I mean, I plan on keeping you awake with me…” he trailed off, smirking as he pulled you close by your waist.

“Oh? I didn’t know we had those kinda plans tonight, Mr. Stark.” your fingers had found their way into his hair while he placed soft kisses along your neck, feeling your body mold perfectly against him.

“Now you’ve got your reminder, haven’t you Mrs. Sta–”

Tony jolted awake, the sound of the buzzer outside broke the little dream into a sad reality. Once again, he had fallen asleep on the couch. A habit that Pepper hated, one that had led to several arguments in the past. The small screen by the door revealed your face, Tony’s previous dream flooding his mind once more, making him shake his head as if it could be brushed off.

“Hey!” you gave Tony a small smile, stepping inside the house and immediately noticing the blanket on his couch.

“Were you asleep? Shit! I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged and waved it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal, narrowing his eyes as he noticed something on the blouse you wore.

“I cleaned the house, it felt great! Which I don’t think I’ve said in what feels like forever. I also made those mini blueberry pies you like. Here.” you handed them to him, watching his face light up genuinely after weeks. It made all of the efforts worth it.

“You ate some too, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

Tony chuckled and reached out to pick up a tiny piece of fruit from your collar, his fingers linger over your skin. Looking down, you noticed the purple-red stain in a couple other spots too, mentally cursing yourself for being so sloppy.

“The stain is gonna set..” you murmured, trying to rub it off with your nails and failing.

“Um, you could wear one of my t-shirts, if you want. I’ll get one for you.” Tony suggested, promptly heading upstairs when you nodded in agreement.

Deciding on taking a shower while you were at it, you turned on the faucet and let the hot water cascade down your body, your weary muscles relaxing under it. Your mind went about this arrangement you had come to, you were living with your best friend’s husband for weeks now, sleeping in the guest bed, dealing with the deaths of your significant others who happened to be in an affair. It was all the makings of a drama movie.

Tony had been your support system, a shoulder to cry on and quite frankly the only person you could tolerate. He didn’t look at you with sympathy, nor did he offer unsolicited advice, he was just there, to hold your hand when you needed, to wipe your tears when you had bouts of anxiety and broke down, Tony was there and that was enough.

Slipping on his t-shirt felt oddly comforting, it smelt of something that was distinctly Tony Stark - a mix of coffee, cigarettes and cologne. Heading downstairs, you noticed him nursing a cup of coffee in his hands as he sat on the kitchen counter.

“Coffee? Seriously? It’s time for dinner, Tony Stark.” you shook your head, your voice breaking him out of his reverie.

His heart definitely skipped a beat. You sounded eerily similar to the dream he just had, two, you wore his clothes which made something bloom in his chest, something that was probably inappropriate. He found his restraint slipping by the minute.

Raising his hands in defeat, he placed the mug away and held out a bottle of wine for you.

“I had this one saved, I know it’s your favorite. What do you say?”

You could use a drink, you thought. Or ten. And the fact that he had your favorite bottle saved made you smile at his thoughtfulness. You had dinner in silence, a comfortable one though before Tony dug into one of the small pies you had made.

“I swear to God, I would’ve married you just for these.” he realized what he’d said the next second, quickly apologizing and cursing himself under his breath.

“I found Pepper’s clothes on his closet, Tony.”

You didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to cause him more pain but it slipped out.

“I burned them.” you added quickly, watching him give you a small nod, as if to say it was the right thing to do.

“Fuck them.” you whispered.

“Yeah, fuck them.” Tony agreed, clearing out your plates. You watched him clean them, noticing he wasn’t wearing his wedding band anymore.

“Are we bad people, Tony?” you asked a few breaths later, staring out the window with your wine glass. Tony sighed, making his way over next to you, shoulders almost brushing.

“You know we’re not, Y/N. We deserve much better than we’ve had. Cheating is a choice, a choice they both made and broke vows. It doesn’t reflect our character, it reflects theirs.”

He was right. Somehow he always said the right things.

“Did you read this in a bad self-help book somewhere?” you jested, angling your body towards him after hearing him chuckle.

“Oh yeah. I’ve got about nine hundred quotes just ready to roll out whenever.”

You felt yourself laugh, a version of yourself that was earlier buried so deep down, you thought she’d never come out. Tony placed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers caressing your cheek softly as he stepped closer.

You swore your heart was beating loudly enough for him to hear, your eyes glancing down at his lips. Now just inches away, you placed your hands on top of his and took in a deep breath.

“We can’t, Tony.”

“Why not?” he hadn’t moved away, he touched his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, his breath mingling with yours.

“We’re not those bad people, remember?” you breathed, not really wanting him to go away but you had to do the right thing. You didn’t want him or you to regret what would happen in the spur of the moment. He kissed you on your forehead, his soft lips still lingering against your skin as he spoke.

“We are people who repressed our feelings for far too long though. I know I am.” he murmured, leaving you confused.

What did he mean? Repressed feelings?

Opening your eyes, you found his brown orbs imploring yours, saying everything that was left unsaid between you over the years. Cupping his face, he leaned into your touch instinctively, still not moving from his place.

“I’ve had feelings for you way before any of this happened, Y/N. I thought you knew.” he whispered.

You did. You just never found the courage to confront him about it or even act on your own. You were married to his best friend, for God’s sake. And now…

“Would you regret this if I told you how much I’ve wanted you, Y/N?”

Tony had been holding himself back for a long time, he couldn’t any more. He would stop if you told him to, no questions asked, but something inside him said you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

“Answer me, Y/N. Would you regret it?”

Tears filled in your eyes and spilled over, down your cheeks where they met Tony’s gentle fingers that wiped them off. You were waiting for the voice inside your head to tell you this would be a mistake. That voice never spoke up.

“No.”

That simple word was a sentence in itself. It was all Tony needed to hear before closing the distance. He kissed you softly at first, melding his lips against yours as he pulled you against his chest. Kissing him was like coming home after a long, tiring day. It was new and yet familiar, like you were doing something right for once. He coaxed your mouth open to deepen the kiss, a mix of blueberries and wine that felt so right to him too.

Everything else felt like a beautiful blur to you. He carried you up the stairs, never breaking the kiss, laid you on the mattress, peeling his t-shirt off your body and admired your flushed skin. Nudging you with his nose, your eyes fluttered open to reflect zero traces of regret, giving him a signal to go ahead. You could think about the million other things running through your mind later, right now all that mattered was you and Tony.

His clothed shaft made its presence known as his hips drove forward, his head now dipped low between your breasts as he caressed your body. A needy moan left your lips as he peeled your shorts off, fingers teasing your moist entrance.

You undressed him quickly, wanting and needing him to make you feel good. Caging you with his arms on either side of your head, Tony pushed inside your heat, welcoming the warmth that enveloped his cock so well. His name fell from your lips in a soft sigh, urging him closer as you wrapped your legs around him.

Everything fell into oblivion as Tony fucked you, drove you to a point of ecstacy and held you as you fell apart. Kissed you like there was no tomorrow and yet all of his kisses felt like promises, promises of a better tomorrow. A future that would be better than your past, and your present.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

ELINOR SOS

I am the student anon from a while ago who was concerned because my prof made an oblique comment about "knowing when people use AI on their assignments"

I often collaborate with a friend in the course on homework assignments (something that is encouraged so long as you name your collaborators when you turn in) and i found out recently that she DOES use chatgpt sometimes. we'll each work on papers separately and then compare ideas and make edits if either of us included something the other missed. i never copy her words but i'll incorporate her ideas if i feel they're useful.

this brings me to 3 questions:

1) does the prof know she uses AI, and does the prof by extension believe that i do, since i name her as a collaborator?

2) is there a way for me to kindly tell my friend i think this is ludicrous behavior and cut it the fuck out

3) is there a way for me to distance myself from my friend in the eyes of the prof without seeming like a total snitch or hardass or what have you

thanks in advance !!!!!!

prev anon:: I MISSPELLED YOUR NAME I AM SORRY elanor elanor elanor so sorry

LMAO you're fine, no worries!

Hmm, okay, so some of this is outside my wheelhouse as a lecturer the other side of the world - this is not to say I'm not going to share my opinions regardless, but just a reminder that I am not, for example, an authority on taking friends to task for using ChatGPT

Anyway the easiest (and most advisable) answer to all of this is to stop collaborating. Up until this point, you're fine, because you simply didn't know - if you get accused of anything you have plausible deniability, because you literally didn't know. It's worth pointing out, though, that you would probably already have been given a formal warning or taken to an academic misconduct board by now if you were suspected on past work - at least, that would be the case over here. We don't hang about if we have suspicions.

Whereas, from this point onwards, if you turn in a collaborated piece and she then gets accused of plagiarism, you are now in a position of having willingly collaborated with a known plagiarist, which opens you up to questions like "So you knew there was a chance that her inputs could have been Chat-generated and you used them in your own work anyway?" and that's a lot harder to defend against.

As to the rest of it, though:

No, probably not. She'd likely have been called on it by now, as would you.

Hmm. I think I personally would approach this with "I'm so sorry, my anxiety is through the roof and I just don't feel comfortable collaborating with you because you use ChatGPT. My brain is now irrationally terrified that it's somehow obvious to the professor and imploding from the pressure." And then if she wants to get into it further, you can discuss the issues with it. HOWEVER mileage can and will vary on that strategy - that's how I would phrase it to avoid her feeling judged, see, but depending on how good a friend she is and a whole bunch of other factors, you might prefer to go BITCH WHY DON'T YOU JUST MARRY THE FUCKING ROBOT IF YOU LOVE IT SO MUCH and block her number. Or, you know. Something along the scale.

Just stop collaborating. Nothing more needed.

The other thing I will say is that I think you're probably assuming more surveillance and oversight from your professor than actually exists. It IS obvious when you find a Chat-generated section, but I can't help but wonder if telling a class "We know that some of you are using it, btw. We won't say who but we can tell. So stop doing that." is actually a lie designed to scare compliance before it becomes a problem. Like. That feels like a lie to me. That feels like "Say it now and then they won't try it." Because if they actually knew, there would be formal proceedings, not oblique little warnings.

Anyway! I hope this is useful.

[pocketramblr]

Absolutely love your writing for all the AU/5 headcanons asks. Can I ask: AU where Rei cheats on Endeavor with All Might? It happens after AM's injury, so she doesn't recognize him, and he ofc doesn't know that she's married in the first place, much less to whom

you make this very difficult for me by giving me a window of 6 and half years for them to have an affair and for every single moment of that window, Rei is institutionalized. how am i supposed to get them to meet, much less take their clothes off. ok. think. there are other fic writers who specialize in this kind of thing, surely. what would they do....

1- ok so. The fire alarm at the hospital goes off. Rei doesn't know if it's a drill or not, but she's been there for seven years and generally does not need a lot of support during something like this like other patients do, so the nurses wave her out and she stands around outside a bit waiting for the fire alarm to stop and them to go back in. (It isn't a drill, they wouldn't have evacuated everyone if it was, but Rei is on the other side of the building and facing away from seeing any smoke) (This smoke is from a villain attack that All Might is taking care of, though he's only got seconds left of his power to use that day. he quickly rushes off, deflating and stumbling out on the other side of the hospital. Where Rei is.)

2- Rei is like "huh that guy doesnt seem to be in good shape" and kinda waves attention at him, and a nurse who's passing out water to patients and keeping an eye on the road gives Toshinori some too, getting more concerned when he dazedly answers that he's All Might and coughs up blood, but the nurse figures he's concussed since he smells of smoke and must have been closer to the fight, and is just reeling from being able to see the number one hero in person. Then they get distracted and wave Toshi to wait nearby, where Rei offers to chill his water and asks if he's alright, if he breathed in any smoke.

3- They chat and then go back into the hospital as it's un-evacuated together, Rei hanging out in the lobby where he sits as the hospital staff focus on getting everyone else back to their rooms. It pays to be low priority sometimes. Eventually she tells him her name is Rei and that she's in room K18, if he ever wants to visit or call. She doesn't get to talk to anyone except doctors, family visitors, or other paitients, and most of them don't stay nearly as long as she does. It's been seven years, and she's very lonely. Toshinori is lonely too, and when he's out of time for a day and feeling useless with nothing to do, he likes to talk to a friend.

4- Rei has been in the hospital for eight years when it gets physical. At that point, Toshinori knows a bit about her family. She has kids, mentions visits from a son and daughter, and then quietly mentioned when her son turned seventeen- her daughter's already twenty. She's been there for so much of their lives. He asks if she's married, and she admits she isn't sure how to file for divorce in a hospital like she is, if she even can, if she wants to because she'd lose custody, if it matters when she's not raising them anyway. He doesn't ask much more, knows there is a dead child and a baby she says isn't safe with her there. Toshinori never called Nana 'mom' to her face while she was alive, and had a reason for it, and has a similar reason for not asking more, not asking for the other names when he gets Fuyumi and Natsuo's. Yes, the doctors and nurses all know Rei has a boyfriend who visits. they don't say anything. who would they even tell, anyway. I debated the humor of reusing the bit from candlelight shoto that Toshi and Rei could have a kid with a fire quirk, but yeah here? Rei ain't getting pregnant, absolutely not.

5- When Natsuo turns eighteen, Rei does actually file for divorce, or at least tries to get the ball rolling on that. Toshinori's trusted her that her marriage is over in all but name, but he's more at ease with it ended fully. Fuyumi is crushed but burying it all deep inside. Natsuo is like 'what are you talking about. divorce is the most normal possible outcome here.' But anyway, Rei also begins to bring up being discharged- something she never bothered with earlier, when it seemed like she'd never be able to go home while Shoto was there, and never would want to go back anyway. (Her parents are absolutely not an option either so where would she go once discharged? the hospital was her only security.) Toshinori then tells her at this point about his diagnosis, that he's supposed to be terminal, in a way. He doesn't have a lot of time he can give her. Rei says that's ok, she'll take what she can get. She moves in. Fuyumi still goes out to eat with her once a week, though Rei doesn't say she's moved in with a boyfriend, just says she's in a safe place and it's not Fuyumi's job to worry about it, please, let her do that, relax, be her daughter instead of a mother. Natsuo adds her to his cellphone plan and gets her one. Rei doesn't tell Toshinori her ex's identity. Toshinori doesn't tell her about OfA, though she does know he's mentoring a student for heroics and is very proud of him. (Toshinori is a secretary at Might Tower, he's a great mentor. Oh huh, he got a job position at UA at the same time as All Might, she wonders if they carpool.)

+1- OK THE REVEAL so the reveal is. Toshinori gets home from the SF. And Rei almost knocks him out by the door, eyes wide and panicked, asking if he's ok, if Shoto's ok. Toshinori is like "... young todoroki? yeah he's alright? i know his fight with young bakugo looked bad but- Rei???" And that's when it all clicks for him, he's having dozens of horrible realizations at once, all while Rei weeps over her youngest. Toshinori's been a hero for a very, very long time. He's felt hopeless, before. But even then, he's known what needs to be done, he just isn't able to do it. But now? he's at a complete loss with no idea what he should do.

[lurafita]

Mundane AU with supportive Maryse

If talking mundane au where Maryse wasn't the worst more accepting of her son's sexuality

Maryse: "You know, my friend Ethel, you know Ethel, right? She used to come over every sunday and play a round of cards with me while your father taught you how to throw a ball." Alec: "Yes, I remember Ethel. How is she?" Maryse: "Oh, she is just splendid! Her daughter is coming to visit her soon. Cynthia. You remember Cynthia, right?" Alec: "Yes, I remember Cynthia. Look, mom, the reason I came to visit today,-" Maryse: "Ethel is so excited! And Cynthia has grown into a lovely woman. I saw some pictures. Did you know she just finished her doctorate?" Alec: "No. That's really good for her. But, uhm, you see, what I was gonna talk to you about-" Maryse: "And, according to Ethel, Cynthia had a bit of a shine on you back when you were both teens." Alec: "Well, it's a small town, not like she had a lot to choose from. But what I was trying-" Maryse: "Oh pish posh! You were such a sweet and smart and nice boy! Cynthia clearly knew a good catch when she saw one, so don't sell yourself short. Maybe you two could reconnect a bit when she comes to visit. She is single, too." Alec: "Mom, I'm gay." Maryse: "… Well, why didn't you say so sooner? Just last week I met with Janine. You remember Janine, right? She used to babysit you when you were young. She has a brother who is gay. I could have gotten his number for you" Alec: "Mom-" Maryse: "Oh, and then there is this couple who moved in the old Byers house across the street. You remember the Byers, right dear? Old man Byers would always shout about stray dogs on his lawn, even though there were never any stray dogs anywhere!" Alec: "Mom-" Maryse: "Anyway, this new couple? Lovely people. Two gay men, married for 2 years now. They surely have some friends they could introduce you to."

Alec: "Mom, I'm not looking to meet anyone right now." Maryse: "Oh, that's fine, too. But you know, it doesn't hurt to look. You aren't getting any younger. And weddings take such a long time to plan." Alec: "Mom, I'm not even in a relationship yet. There is no wedding." Maryse: "And adoption takes some time too, you know? You still want kids, right?" Alec: "Of course I do, but-" Maryse: "Oh, I know! Old Dale, you remember Dale, right? He runs the local autoshop. He just hired a few new mechanics. And they like working shirtless when it's hot. We could go have a look. Make it a Mother Son outing." Alec: "MOM!" Maryse: "What? I'm old, not dead. I appreciate the sight of some big, muscly men from time to time." Alec: "Oh my god!" Maryse: "A mechanic actually would be a nice match for you. They are bound to be handy with their… tools." Alec: "… I'm gonna forget this conversation ever happened."

[galesdevoteewife]

#bg3weddingseason Masterlist

Tag a friend and challenge them to answer some (or all) of the prompts on this list. There are 31 prompts, so you can also use the prompts as a daily headcanon/art/fic challenge. Use the prompts however you like! If you want to share your stuff with a shared tag, you can use the tag #bg3weddingseason Original post from @mumms-the-word

♡ I am making this ASK GAME too!! Please feel free to drop any number in my ask box !! Additional questions are most welcome too !! ♡ Or I will just slowly fill up the unpicked numbers anyway muahhaha!!

✨Details✨

1. Wedding, or something else? - What do the characters think about weddings or marriages? If not a wedding, would they acknowledge their relationship in a different kind of ceremony?

2. Proposal - Who proposed to whom? Were there rings or other gifts involved?

3. Bachlor/Bachelorette parties? - Do the characters get a bachelor(ette) party before the big day? Does anything crazy happen?

4. Pre-Ceremony Events - Are there any special events, ceremonies, rituals, or preparations the couple must do before the wedding day? Ritual cleansing, asking a parent for the character's hand, mehndi/henna painting, little pre-ceremony games or challenges, etc?

5. Formal or informal affair? - Is the wedding elaborate and grand, or simple and sweet? Is it a tenday-long series of parties or is it a quick vow exchange in front of Withers?

6. Venue - Where is the ceremony and/or reception? Inside? Outside?

7. Timing - What time of year are they getting married? What time of day?

8. Traditions - What traditions are involved in the ceremony/reception? Is there a mix of traditions from either partner?

9. Decor - What kind of notable decor is there at the venue? Do they have something like an arch, a carpet aisle, fairy lights in the trees, or other elaborate decorations? Did they choose to decorate at all?

10. Flowers - What flowers or other natural elements do they have as part of their decoration, if any? Are these flowers significant?

11. Bouquet or no bouquet? - Does someone carry a bouquet, or do they choose to carry something else? Or do they walk down the aisle with nothing at all?

12. Music - Is there music at the ceremony or the reception? What kind of music? Do they hire an orchestra, band, or half-decent bard to serenade them?

13. Outfits - What is the married couple going to wear? Is there special significance in the outfit choices, colors, jewelry, etc?

14. Rings - What do their rings look like, if they choose to exchange any?

15. Vows and Unity Ceremonies - Does the couple exchange vows? Do they complete any kind of "unity" ceremony, like handfasting, planting a tree together, etc?

16. Wedding Party - Are there bridesmaids, groomsmen, attendants, special witnesses? Are they dressed a certain way or positioned in a special spot?

17. Going Down the Aisle - Does anyone escort the character walking down the aisle? Do they go alone?

18. I Now Pronounce You... - Do your characters change their last names, keep their last names, arrange for a specific kind of name? For example, "Mr. and Mr. Dekarios" or "Lord and Lady Ravengard-Cliffgate"?

19. Guests - Who else is there? Are there any special details about how the guests are arranged, what they are wearing, or what they are doing?

20. Food - What kind of food and drink is being served at the reception? Is there a lush feast or simple fare? Is there a wedding cake or some other kind of traditional wedding food?

21. Dancing - Is there any dancing? Elegant waltzes or all-out party-hard tavern music dance parties?

22. Ending the Night - How does the reception end? Is there a big send-off, or does everyone quietly fade out as the night turns into dawn?

23. Honeymoon - Does the couple take a honeymoon anywhere?

✨Specific Moments✨

24. The Night Before - Write about the night before the wedding. Are your characters nervous? Excited? Do they see their partner or keep away?

25. Getting Ready - Who helps your characters get ready? Are there any sweet, funny, bittersweet, or adorable moments that happen?

26. The First Look - Write about the moment when your married couple sees each other in their wedding outfits for the first time.

27. Ceremony - Write the scene where they exchange vows, complete a unity ceremony, exchange rings, or etc.

28. First Dance - Does your couple have a first dance? What is that like for them?

29. Private Moments - Every couple needs a private moment away from the big day. When does your couple escape the festivities, before, during, or after the ceremony/reception, to have a private, quiet (or perhaps not so quiet) moment?

30. Reception - Does anything specific happen at the reception? Drama, a sweet moment with a parent or other companions, cake-smashing, games, a surprise?

31. First Night, Morning After - Write a specific moment or detail about their first night together as a wedded couple, and/or what it is like for them to wake up the next morning as a wedded couple.

Ahhhh sweeeet summer time project!! I am so exciteeeddd!!! Thank you @fantasyfictionfables for tagging me and @mumms-the-word for creating the wonderful detail prompts!!! Also, open tag, as always! please consider yourself tagged by me if you'd like to play!! ♡♡♡♡

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Past Life Triggers"

[TW FILLED READING]

take a breath and choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read a brief description of what may be some triggers (or the main trigger) that you carry with you possibly from a past life. the description will be accompanied by suggestion on how to deal with them/it and start the healing process. I believe that we may undergo similar events, or events that may trigger those feelings we experienced in our past lives, while in this life. so to be able to heal those traumas too.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4

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pile 1 [main tw: childhood/emotional/physical abuse]

Your past life may have been revolving around being a worker child or not being able to actually have a free life. You either were a slave or indeed at the service of your family or a boss. Something prevented you to be able to actually decide for yourself. Maybe you have seen your dreams crashing down (for some it may have happened later on in your life: you were probably sold to someone rich kinda suddenly, either to work for them or to marry them or you had to work in some "pleasure house" for example) or you had to stay hidden (like mining or working somewhere underground), but anyway your life depended on someone else's decisions. It wasn't yours. And the realization of this fact hit you greatly.

I am totally getting Oliver Twist vibes. You were a pure soul that only wanted to enjoy their life but never really could, and for sure not on their own terms. All you did that you may not be proud of was for a reason and was to save yourself and live another day. You probably had to steal food or something like that. I think this character a bit introverted, shy, closed off, not fully able to trust others, and always on alert, is what you brought from that life in this.

You had friends, younger siblings or at least a few companions, but most of the times (and most of you) had to find ways to survive on your own and think about yourself first. You very likely tried to take care of them, when you could though, but you couldn't always save them. You're probably still a bit closed off though, shying away from connections even unconsciously. Maybe you had to work for your family and couldn't really get away from that/had no choice. Maybe your whole family was working as slaves somewhere. Or any of the other situations I mentioned above... the message here is kinda straight forward. And it involves you not being free or having the ability to be in control of your life in whatever way. Maybe at first you had to obey your father and then you got sold to another rich man when your family got poorer? Something like that too.

Whatever that was, the suggestion is to try and listen to your inner guidance. Not everyone is out to control you or take advantage of you, and you need to take control of your life as well. And you can. You're free. Even if it seems scary and uncomfortable (it's supposed to be so: you aren't used to that, your soul is still in that fearful place). Take baby steps, learn who to trust, and do it fully for once. Let go and live your present life, at any cost. You're here for that, remember. Others have their lives to enjoy already. Respect others, thank them for their interest in you if necessary but do what you want of your own life, you owe no explanation to anyone. And you can be seen and listened to. Don't hide away.

song: street | doja cat

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pile 2 [main tw: blood/d3ath, gaslighting]

I think it may be something related with blood. Maybe a tragic death or a death of any type. Something you feel has dirtied you, or changed you and your life. I keep hearing "stain". You probably now may fear about being imperfect, flawed, not good enough or "staining" your imagine in any type of way, not looking so perfect and deserving as you'd like to be.

You probably still fear your inner darker parts, you see them as mistakes, as things that shouldn't be there. You may try obsessively or compulsively to clean yourself (I'm seeing someone trying hard to clean white clothes from blood stains), by trying to avoid considering those parts, or hiding them, fearing being judged. I feel in your past life you may have been considered guilty of something, like ending or ruining something. Could be a marriage, or even a life. Maybe you were considered a witch/sorcerer too, accused of bringing plagues or bad luck in your village.

I feel you bring within you this pain, this fear of being accused (which may have actually happened irl) also of things you have no control or power on, that don't depend (solely or at all) on you. And that you cannot make better cause again they do not depend on you. You may also have some control issues. You probably were lied to a lot (but mostly in this life). You are also probably scared of being wrong or making mistakes of any type and again not been considered as perfect/right all the times. You may also have problems with criticism and tend to take it personally, even when that's not the intention behind it. You may occasionally project on others too, to defend yourself in particular (or to ask for help, but in an indirect or unconscious way). You were probably gaslighted in your past too and learned to self gaslighting, and may have learned to be ligthly manipulative to defend yourself.

I think you are supposed to heal this trauma by stopping causing yourself this pain, hiding yourself or parts of yourself in fear of not being accepted or accused of things that you cannot control (people judge or project on you from their own trauma, it's not your fault and it won't be like this with everyone). Be you, learn to embrace also the darkest parts within, as we all are made of dark and light. And there's no shame in that. Bring love to yourself. Accept yourself first, so to allow yourself to be accepted by the people that you really deserve in your life (and not by those you may want but don't actually need). Take a breath and listen to the intentions behind others' words too. Again, not everyone is here to come after you and accuse you or make you feel any less of who you are. See your worth despite any stain you may want to wash away: to actually do that, you need to accept them first. To actually see those parts not as a problem as you were probably taught to, but as a part of your self solution. There's nothing wrong in you.

song: the worst | jhené aiko

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pile 3 [main tw: bullying, loneliness, suic*de]

There's sadness and loneliness in your past. A sense of never fitting in, of never being right or good enough. Of feeling oppressed, somehow. You were probably a studious or a researcher, a scientist, a nerd of any type (for some you probably were into healing herbs or something like that, but it's only a few tbh check pile 2 if you feel this resonates more), and you were never really able to be understood by "normal" people. Your quirks were not easy to be understood by everyone, but maybe you had a few friends (even if you weren't too aware of them). Some people may have bullied you though. It feels very heavy tbh. I'm sorry... Maybe you decided for the worst too in that life. Not sure if it happened when you were a child/teen or more as a grown up, it could be either.

Ofc this is what you're bringing in this life too, as if the present life wasn't enough complicated and relationships not hard enough for everyone. May it be your karma? Who knows (we prolly deserve, if so). You (your soul) may be taking revenge and rejoyce in people searching for you now, needing you and your knowledge, your help. I am seeing a smirk. I understand this comes from a lot of pain also in your past life, but remember that this is only effimeral, and not what you need nor are searching for. Don't let pain make you bitter, don't give people the power to let you down again: you don't need that type of people; focus on the few, even the only one, that value you for who you are. Be real with yourself: what do you want? Real deep relationships, I am sure. So try and create yours. I know it's not easy, but... give it a try?

Okay, you will probably still fail sometimes, you won't meet the right people right away and you will make mistakes at first, but it's fine. Just go out and try. Give yourself the chance to try and also to be wrong, to not finding your people yet. Rome wasn't buildt in a day. Take time, get accostumed. The more you try, the more you know yourself, who you are and what you can give (and deserve to get), the more the people that are willing to balance that part of you will be attracted in your life. Believe in this. Take control of your emotions and your mind. You are better than those who hurt you in any of your lives. Show them that.

Take control over your pain, and allow this internal change. It will probably pain you as well, but it is just the last step before things will get better. You're a very sensible soul, and that's so impressive seeing how harsh and hateful we're becoming as humans. Try to not let these emotions take you over though. Find your space, your place to distress. We need you here with us, even if sometimes things seem so unbearable... I know you can bear with them still, I can feel it. Find your own reasons to convince yourself. Ask for help, reach out for people (I'm here if you want, just don't be afraid that I or anyone else won't understand you or think you're a burden cause that's not true), talk, write or search for your personal signs to stay. Just take a look around, they're there. Take this reading as your sign that something better is ahead and it's gonna happen for sure. Try, okay?

song: stay alive (prod. suga) | jungkook

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pile 4 [main tw: abandonment issues, people pleasing]

You probably weren't able to express yourself freely in your past life. You had to shut up, to bring respect to your father and elders, to obey, to behave. You couldn't really rebel despite your mind, heart, soul and ideas were telling you differently. You were different from the rest. Kind of a rebel. And for this reason, you had to be taken care of, to be controlled, to be held back. Cause your words would have only brought you (and your family in particular) problems, and others (your community) would have judged you. Some type of bohemian hero/ine?

You were energetic, not afraid of the different and the new or to be perceived as a libertine, up to try anything, and didn't care about what others were thinking of you. The energy reminds me a bit of Jeanne D'Arc, but even more of Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, Francis Scott Fitzgerald's wife (the guy who wrote "Tender is the night" and "The great Gatsby", eg. Not sure if you have seen the serie about her and how they met, but if so you may get what I mean). As her, you probably were interested in writing too. And you were good. You liked doing something that was new, or not seen as "good/standard" for your gender (if you even recognized yourself in any). Ofc you didn't care and just did whatever that was. But you also lost a lot in the process (probably people from your family or environment left you aside, and you pretended you didn't care), and got burned many times (I swear I don't mean this as a pun, also cause tbh Jeanne D'Arc came up on a second thought after I had already written this).

I think you're bringing this energy in your life as well. The will to take control of your life and dreams is still very strong, as the will to not stress too much but simply trying to enjoy and do your best. It feels like you already have a clear call. But there's this void still in you. This need to not be left out, to be appreciated, to not be left alone. To be supported. To feel love, any type of love, at no cost. To give love and receive love, unconditionally. Something inside still feels scared that if you really let it all out, if you let this energy take over and followed your call, you may end up being seen as someone that needs to be left aside, to be let down, as a bad influence... or crazy. Not understood. Especially from the people you want and need to be loved by the most. You fear being abandoned by your family, friends, lovers... on different levels. For different reasons. For not being enough, for not being as others, for not obeying some weird rules. But tbh, this should be the main reason why they shouldn't lose you. Still, you probably started people pleasing and do as they asked you without blinkin' an eye, so to not give others the chance to leave (spoiler, but you prob. know already: they leave anyway) and to feel loved, so to not feel their anger and disdain on you.

Whatever is the reason/trigger behind your actual fear of abandonment and reaction, the only suggestion is to try and remember your worth in any given moment; to work from a loving place (towards yourself too), to talk with them openly, to show them how much you want whatever you want and believe you can make it, to maybe find compromises with them (if you need to), to go slower than you probably did in your past life (you wanted it all and "now", very likely. You never really considered the possible consequences of your actions/decisions beforehands. Take time to enjoy each step, be steady but do not rush. Get accostumed, let others do the same). Don't be scared to stand up for yourself and disappoint others. Communicate your feelings, all of them. These fears in particular. Ask clearly to be supported instead of being criticized. And talk with yourself about this too. How much do you want that? "You have the key to it all".

song: sweet virginia | the rolling stones

[sneckoil]

ok so i haven't watched housemd since i was a kid and just finished s1 and i am just. why is cameron written like that. genuinely her thing with house had me so completely lost this season. feels like a waste of a great actress but?? maybe I'm wrong?? she just feels so. empty as a character to me. regardless i would love to know what your opinion is on the character bc from what i remember it doesn't get better from here

I dont blame you ban-joey and I really appreciate your courage to send this off anon. We probably have the same experience. I watched house as a kid too (when I was 14, like 10 yrs ago) and hated her for being contrarian and inconsistent and in the way. But since then i’ve looked inward and found i was imposing double standards wrought by internalized misogyny. Anyway.

My opinions on cameron:

Number 1, if i were her i would shoot my shot with house too. excuse me. as if most of us on here are not just twenny… thirty somethings pining after old men. happily going on a monster truck date? getting a date in return for the old man to have me back on my team? Yeah. I respect the hustle. fuck that old man or whatever. marry him when he’s sick. phantom thread him

Number 2, liking Cameron is easy once you accept. That she is really really really not normal. I know this may be something you already know. But internalize it. She says something righteous but it doesnt mean that that is her defining trait. There is something so deeply wrong with her. I know you’re still on season 1 and Yes she Gets Worse but if you are working with the same lens as i am (that there’s something WRONG with her) then everything that happens makes sense. [spoilers] Of course youre only attracted to people when they’re sick and dying. Of course your reaction to being told youre boring is getting high on your patient’s drugs a few weeks away from your HIV test results. Of course you wanted to cheat on your dying husband with his best friend who comforted you while your husband was dying but you didn’t and you still haven’t after the fact he died. Of course you kept your dead husband’s sperm. Of course you wanted to kill a dictator but didnt, and then got pissed at your husband who Did kill him, a husband you actually felt nothing for and was hesitant to even let propose to you [/end spoilers] she’s so funny. If she were a guy they’d call her a messy bitch and love her for it. she has uncategorizable mental illnesses masking as a savior complex.

Number 3, you’re right about the emptiness on some level though. They wanted to write her out of the show and they did her so bad. And I’d say yeah she’s inconsistent as a character, but that goes for Everyone in this show. House isn’t consistent. Wilson isn’t consistent. None of them are consistent. Cameron is only as well-written as the writer who knows how to write her. I’ve suspected the only reason i hated her when I was 14 was she got in the way of hilson. But nowadays that stuff is so unserious to me. All i care about now is messy people being messy about other people

Number 4, she compels me. I like that she’s interesting. I don’t like most of her decisions, I disagree with her the most, but it’s interesting. She’s fun to Watch. She’s no Foreman (that guy is a case study in layers of character depth but that’s for another ramble) but that’s more than i can say for her than someone like, say, Chase LMAO

That being said if you dont like cameron then that’s fine 👍 we live in a society etc etc

I end with this (thank you jackie for putting this image on my feed)

[wildemaven]

The Secrets We Keep…

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

WC: 5284

Warnings: 18+; self doubt, asshole friend, cheating, divorce, failed engagement, food and alcohol, hotel hookups, hot and heavy make out session, a little angst I think, secretly in love with friend’s husband, I think that’s it.

A/N: This has been sitting for so long! I’m glad to finally get this off my WIP list! I struggled through some parts of this so I hope it flows well!! I feel like Dave is misunderstood and just wants to be loved, so this is me trying to give him that… Anyways hope you enjoy! Likes, Comments and Reblogs are appreciated, helps me know you enjoy and helps me to stay motivated so I can write more.

Shout out to @gnpwdrnwhiskey getting me in my Dave feels and talking through this with me!!

Masterlist / Main

“I’m going to tell him tonight!” You told the reflection looking back at you.

You give yourself a once over in the mirror, admiring the way the black dress drapes over your body, the way it hugged every inch of you. This slip dress was outside your realm of comfort, especially for tonight. You lived in well-worn jeans and buttery soft t-shirts outside of your 9-5 work attire, sandals or sneakers depending on the weather-- You chose comfort over dressing up 90% of the time.

But tonight you decided to throw caution to the wind, opting for something on the sexier side in hopes for a little confidence boost. The dress, simple jewelry and strappy heels were definitely doing it for you in this very moment. Taking one last spin, your phone vibrates on our dresser. Noting the time, you already know who it is—your longtime friend Carol.

*Ding*

Carol: Are you on your way yet?? The sooner I can get out of here the better!!

*Ding*

Carol: Dave is hovering and it’s pathetic

You were already dreading tonight and it hadn’t even begun.

*Ding*

Carol: I need a drink! The sooner the better!

You: Hi! Sorry!! I got sidetracked picking an outfit, but settled on the 5th option I tried on! Just grabbing my purse and heading out the door. Be there in 15!!

Carol. Carol York.

Your longtime friend of many years. You’d met when you both attended the same college in this very town. Both graduating at the same time and starting your careers together. You considered her one of your closest friends. You’d both had gotten engaged around the same time too. Her to Dave, who you always found to be very reserved but polite—could be his government job. And you to Jason… Jason who worked in accounting and loved to crunch numbers at all hours of the day— thrilling.

But as the years went on it was apparent that Carol didn’t value the friendship you shared as much as you had.

The digs were what you first started to pick up on throughout the years— the backhanded compliments, at your expense. Always pointing out things she thought you could fix about yourself— “You shouldn’t wear your hair like that, it’s not flattering” “I don’t know why you keep wearing that color, it horrible” “Why do you always just stand there when we go out? You would probably have more friends if you actually talked to other people”

You always brushed them off as Carol’s way of being a “good friend”, and as years went on you found yourself believing most of what she said too. She wouldn’t say them if they weren’t true… right??

When your engagement to Jason ended, Carol was there for you— sort of.

She and Dave had been married for a year when you and Jason had called it quits, deciding you were better off as friends and not romantically.

While you weren’t that heartbroken over the break-up, you still wanted your friend to lean on as you began to navigate through this new chapter of your life. Carol let you sulk for about 2 days before she was letting you know everything you could have done better and why Jason was better off. And once again, you took her harshness as just being a good friend—because that’s what good friends do… right??

It wasn’t until the affair began did you start to look at Carol differently.

Her and Dave had always seemed rock solid in their marriage. You never heard about fights or disagreements. Carol never complained about him outside of the normal annoyances. Dave was always the outstanding husband everyone adored. And while he was ever the dutiful husband, he was equally handsome. Carol knew women looked at him too. But that wasn’t enough for her. He wasn’t enough for her.

She met Glenn through work, you assumed some young intern wanting work his way up in the ranks. Carol kept it hidden as much as she could. But as they got more serious, the quick fucks in the office weren’t sufficient for them. So Carol had to think quick on her feet, come up with something that could get her more time with Glen.

In comes Girl’s Night.

Who would suspect anyone would be cheating, if they were meeting with their dear friend every Wednesday for a regular Girl’s Night? That’s how you found yourself getting thrown into this mess of a situation. Carol confided in you about the affair, said she was bored to death with Dave and needed something more exciting in her life— a complete shock to you. You had tried to tell her to just explain to Dave where she was coming from, maybe they could seek counseling to try and mend whatever Carol thought was lacking.

But Carol wouldn’t budge.

You became third wheel to her extra-curricular marital activities. Picking her up every Wednesday and driving to the fancy hotel across town where she would meet up with Glenn at the room he booked for them weekly. You would sit at the bar in the lobby for close to an hour by yourself, wishing you were literally anywhere else but there.

You felt icky letting this carry on for as long as it did—almost as if you were the one doing the cheating too. You didn’t deserve to be put in this position.

Dave doesn’t deserve this! I have to say something. I can’t be a part of this anymore! You thought to yourself as you drove the few blocks it took to get to their lovely two-story home. He deserved to know who his wife was and how she was when he wasn’t around.

Dave was a great guy. Always attentive to Carol and her lavish ways. Her wanting to look the part of the successful wife. Top name brand clothes and accessories, top of the line cars and dinners at the fanciest restaurants for no special occasion other than to just be seen. Dave just let her be, never complaining or showing any sort of annoyance at her ridiculous behavior.

Dave was the perfect husband if you were being brutally honest. And perfectly handsome. His dark locks were always brushed just right, never out of place. His eyes, while dark in color, held so much lightness to them—especially when he smiled that gorgeous smile of his. Your gaze instinctually would gravitate towards him without even realizing it sometimes. Imagining what it would be like to have someone as dreamy as Dave was.

You had even imagined what it would be like if it was you who Dave came home to every night. How you would take care of him—preparing his favorite meals, making sure he had a few snacks tucked away in his briefcase just in case there wasn’t time for lunch. Dave was worthy of being taken care of everyday. But this wasn’t reality.

Reality was Dave is married to your friend who doesn’t love him the way that you could—the way that you deeply wanted to.

You pushed those thoughts aside as you pulled up to their home. Checking yourself in the mirror once more before making your way up to their front door.

You knocked several times, waiting on the front step, hoping it would be Carol to open the door. You weren’t sure you could see Dave in this very moment. You wanted to wait until after you dropped Carol off at home, knowing she would be indulging in a few drinks too many and wouldn’t be up for conversation once she was safely home for the evening.

The creak of the door opening pulls you from your thoughts, and staring back at you is Dave. Dave in his grey fitted work slacks, baby blue dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up exposing his beautiful taut forearms. Your breath hitches in surprise, trying your best to conceal any sort of desire you have for this man.

“Hi..” His voice trailed off as his eyes scanned your body from head to toe, no words needed to convey the look of desire he tried so hard to make look less than obvious.

“Hi Dave. I.. umm.. Is Carol ready??” The words manage to fumble from your mouth. The look he’s giving you is hard to read but it’s enough to send a yearning want through your body.

“Yes…Yeah! She said she would be down in just a second. Just finishing up. Would you like to come in and wait? I can get you a drink??” Pulling the door open and motioning for you to come in. He seems nervous too.

“Thank you, but I’m good. I don’t plan on drinking tonight but I appreciate the offer.” Stepping through the door and planting yourself in their entryway.

There’s a heaviness in the air as you both stand there in silence.

You avert your eyes as much as possible but you can’t help but look at the man standing before you, they way you’re so drawn to him as he stands there with his head down and hip out, hands resting on his narrow waist line.

The sound of Carol bounding down the stairs has you standing taller, hoping your awkwardness isn’t noticeable.

“Alright don’t wait up for me Dave. I’m sure we’ll be late like always.” Grabbing her purse off the stair railing and shoving her phone and wallet in to it.

“You’re wearing that?!” She points at you. Her expression shows distaste and a sense of jealousy if you had to guess.

You look down at yourself, embarrassment ticking the back of your neck. Looking up you see Dave staring at you, his face hard to read, he must agree with her and you wish you could crawl in a hole and hide away forever.

“Do I look bad?”

“Well it’s not the worst thing you’ve worn. But maybe this will the thing that catches someone’s attention finally.”

“Carol..” Dave’s eyebrows arch up at her comment, his jaw ticking to the side as Carol continues her onslaught of badgering, shifting his stance in the uncomfortableness that now surrounds the three of you.

“We’re late. Let’s go.” Clapping her hands together to announce her departure. Dave goes in for a kiss or a hug but is met with Carols retreating back as she makes her way to the car.

“Have a good night Dave. I’ll make sure she comes back in one piece.” You smile at him sweetly as you begin your journey to the car.

“Just so you know she was wrong. You look nice.”

You stop just before you’ve made it outside, turning to see Dave staring at you, his gaze has softened bit with Carol now out of earshot.

You can’t help but feel giddy at his comment, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at him.

“Thanks, Dave.”

*

You can feel your palms begin to sweat as you try to think of how to bring up the subject to Carol, knowing it won’t be received well.

You turn the volume of the radio down so you’re not competing for her attention.

“Carol, we need to talk. When are you going to tell Dave about the affair? You can’t keep this up forever. Just tell him you’re unhappy and I’m sure he’ll understand or something.”

“Ugh! Can we talk about anything but Dave.” Rolling her eyes and avoiding the topic all together.

“Carol I’m serious.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightening as you continue to question her. “This needs to end. And whether that’s you telling Dave you’re done and want a divorce or you stop this secrecy thing you’re doing and fix your marriage.”

You’re adrenaline is peaking and you can feel yourself questioning whether or not you’re doing the right thing.

“You couldn’t even keep a man long enough to get married, let alone keep an actual relationship— you think I’m going to take advice from you? Ha! That’s real fuckin’ rich coming from you.”

“This is the last time Carol. No more girls night out. No more me covering for you. I’m done— I don’t want to be a part of your lies any more.” Putting your car in park, finality dripping from your voice.

“What are you going to do, tell him yourself.” Swallowing the last bit of confidence you had as she continues. “You don’t think I see the way you look at Dave? That I don’t see the way you make eyes at my husband? You sound like a hypocrite.”

You can feel the heat as it spreads across your face. Are you as horrible as she is? You’d never act on your feelings towards Dave— he’s married, and he loves Carol. You would never involve yourself in someone’s marriage.

“Here, get yourself a drink or two, loosen up a bit. And while you’re at it, take out that stick you have lodge up your ass— might help you get laid.” Venom pouring from her mouth as she exits the car, tossing a few $20 bills on the seat before slamming the door shut.

*

The bartender keeps the drinks coming, Diet Coke on the rocks is as good as it’s going to get. You’ll pour yourself something stronger the minute you get home. You’re going to need it after tonight’s disastrous argument with Carol.

You’ve been sitting here nearing two hours now, an hour longer than normal and turning down several unwanted advances from inebriated hotel guests who clearly thought they were being slick as they slurred their words.

The bartender silently places another glass in front of you, a pity nod to your pathetic singleness. You’ll be sure to leave him a decent tip for the somewhat non-judgmental service.

A staggering figure heading your direction catches your attention. Carol being helped by who can only assume is Glen— you’d never met him prior to this evening, only been told of him by Carol.

You’re taken aback by him, he’s not what you expected at all. He’s short in stature, pointed features and what you can only assume is a poorly glued on hair piece.

Your brain trying to figure out the how and the what behind his appeal. He is everything Dave is not by appearance standards— you have to stop yourself from comparing this guy to Dave, he’s not yours.

Glen, who’s one bum hip away from an AARP subscription, is edging exhaustion as he tries his best to keep Carol upright as he tries to prop her up once they get to the bar.

Carol attempts to say something, but she is too far gone to make any sense.

“She finished two bottles of champagne, barely touched dinner so she’s a little drunk.” You’re already annoyed by his voice and you’d just met him.

He asks for your help and you both all but carry Carols half limp body to the passenger seat of your car.

Buckling her in, cause you still care for her safety, he mumbles some gross lovey nonsense to her and kisses her with his chapped crinkled lips. Thankfully they’re both unaware of how confused and semi-grossed out you are at their whole interaction.

“I’m Glen by the way.” Leaning further into the car extending his crepey hand over Carol to you in the driver’s seat.

You can smell the champagne on Carol’s breath, definitely smells expensive and nauseating, as she slurs through tries her best to introduce him to you, telling you how Glen is the CEO of her firm and how much money he has— it all making sense now.

You look at his hand then back up to his face. “So I’ve heard. Please close the door.”

He slinks out and closes the door as you start the car, promptly backing out of the space to set out on your drive back to the York’s home.

You were looking forward to washing this night off of you. Hoping a hot shower would strip away the guilt and shame of being an accomplice to Carol’s affair, as well as the what you can only assume the ending of your friendship.

*

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting in Dave and Carol’s driveway. Carol’s snoring the soundtrack to you weighing the pros and cons of telling Dave.

Pros:

He wouldn’t have to suffer Carol’s charade of being the perfect couple to keep up with the Jones’

He wouldn’t have to deal with Carol being insufferable when she doesn’t get her way

He would be happy

Cons:

He might think you’re making things up to break up their marriage

He might tell you you’re meddling

He might hate you

The odds seem pretty even as your brain continues its spiral trying to convince yourself to just tell Dave the truth. The possibility of never seeing him again weighing heavily on your heart.

There’s a knock on your window and you nearly have a heart attack. Dave is bent down trying to get your attention, you’re not sure if he’d been standing there awhile or not.

You roll down your window, the cool air hitting your face, a slight chill creeping over your skin.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You melt at the sight of his smile, he looks so happy when he does.

“She might have gotten a little carried away tonight.” Looking over at Carol still completely passed out, trying to decide what you should share about your evening.

“That’s okay. I can go ahead get her out.” He’s still looking at you, his gaze is enveloping and sincere. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

“Umm, yeah— sure. I’ll grab her purse for you.”

Some how Dave makes into the house with cradling her sleeping body, you following on his heels. Even in her drunken state, he’s still an attentive husband.

You set her purse down on the entry table and shuffle about, not really sure what to do with yourself. You’ve been here plenty of times but you all of a sudden feel like a stranger within these walls.

“Go ahead and help yourself to water or snacks if you’re hungry, just going to put Carol to bed and then I’ll be right down.” Looking down at you from the top of the stairs.

You admire his broad shoulders, his T-shirt pulled tight across them and his flexed biceps bulging as he carries his cheating wife to bed.

A drink of cold water was just what you needed to calm yourself down, now the glass sits heavy in your hand as you stand in the kitchen, trying to not let your mind wander off too much.

“Sorry about that. Got her all tucked in for the night. She’s going to hurt tomorrow.” Dave says as he enters the kitchen.

“Mhmmm..” Taking one last sip of water, your throat suddenly dry at the sight of him— a comfy relaxed t-shirt and a pair of dark wash jeans.

“Yeah…So, you ladies must have had a fun night then??”

You watch him move about the kitchen, grabbing dishes from varied spots on the counters and placing them in the sink.

“Yeah… W-we always have a great time.”

You place your now empty glass on the kitchen island in front of you, trying your best to sound as convincing as possible, but you’re not really sure he’s buying it when he only hums in response.

“I have some of that wine you love in the fridge if you want a glass?” He says pointing over to the fridge behind you as he settles up against the island counter next to you, actively trying to keep some distance between the two of you.

“I didn’t realize you like it too?”

“I— actually I don’t.” A nervous laugh huffs out of his chest, his hands settling in his pockets as he looks down at his feet for a few seconds, then back over to you. “You always bring it over and seemed to really enjoy drinking it. I keep a bottle, you just in case.”

“Oh..” His admission has you reeling.

Why would he go out of his way to do that for you? Carol doesn’t even like the wine, and you know this because she makes a point to tell you how cheap it is compared to the vintage Cabernet any chance she gets, which is usually in front of her other friends and colleagues.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks out of no where, Dave has been more of a friend to you over the years than Carol ever has been. Always making sure you feel comfortable when he’s around and doing these small little things for you, like a normal friend would.

“Dave… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?” His brows furrowed as he looks at you with concern.

“Umm, these Girl’s Nights aren’t really that…” You take a deep breath before you continue to share your truth. “Carol…” The words seem to get caught in your throat, but you decide it’s now or never. “Carol’s been having an affair with her boss. She came up with this weekly night out thing so she could meet up with him and I some how got caught up in it. I told her she needed to tell—“

“I know.” You think you hear him laugh as he says it.

“What? You know about the affair?!”

“Yeah. Known for awhile actually.”

“And you never said anything?!”

“I work for the government and she’s really not as subtle as she think she is. Plus I needed to quietly collect all the information to help my case when we go to court. Knowing Carol, she’ll try to twist everything.”

Your hands planted firmly on the countertop to hold yourself up as you process what he just told you. You don’t know if this is a relief that Dave knows, or makes you look even worse that you hadn’t said something sooner, your head spinning in circles.

“Wait! What do you mean when you go to court?” Your attention snapping back over to where he’s still standing.

“I filed for divorce last week. The paperwork is waiting for her on the nightstand next to the Advil and water she’ll need when she wakes up.”

You can’t help feel relieved and happy Dave knows but also a little sad that he now has to deal with this. Divorces can be messy and knowing Carol, she isn’t going to go down without a fight.

“I’m so sorry Dave. I should have told you sooner. I can’t believe I just let her think she could use me for her own gain.” Your head hangs down a bit, you wish you had stood up for yourself all those times Carol was anything but kind to you— but hindsight is always 20/20 as they say.

Dave must sense your emotions as he slowly places his hand on yours, his thumb drawing small delicate circles over your wrist.

Your eyes are glued to where his hand is, it’s warm and tender. The tiny movements have your heart pounding, you’re not sure if he realizes the effect it’s having on you.

“Hey..” He leans back a bit to get your attention back to him. “You have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault at all. Even with out the affair, I think this would still be our outcome.”

“What do you mean? You seemed so in love with her.”

“I mean, yeah, I do love her— did?” His jaw ticks to the side a bit, trying to gather his thoughts. “We’ve both been distant for awhile now. I’ve been sleeping in the guest room for a month— we’ve essentially been separated under the same roof.”

“Carol never said anything.���

“I’m sure she wanted everyone to still think she had this perfect life outside of these walls.”

“Doesn’t really seem fair to you.”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking at you with a slight grin. “I could say the same about how she treats you.” And he’s right.

“You look really beautiful tonight.” His voice is shaky, his smile soft as he takes you in again. Pushing himself off the counter he inches closer until he’s standing directly behind you.

“Th-thank you.”

His fingers toying with yours as his firm chest meets your back, heat radiating from him as he cages you in.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, always wanted to tell you how beautiful you are.” His breath fanning hot against your ear. Your breathing heavy and rapid as he confesses his thoughts to you.

“Tell me to stop and I will…”

You turn so you’re facing him, your body giving in to what it has so desperately been craving, your hands seeking out more of him as they slide up his chest to his broad shoulders.

His eyes flitting up and down, your lips and eyes his main focus as he waits for a response.

“Don’t stop…please.” Ever.

It’s magnetic the way his lips collide into yours, a moment you’d only ever dreamed about in private, never thinking it would ever become your reality.

His strong hands work over your body, grabbing, pushing, pulling—taking advantage of having you this close to him.

Dave is a force, a heady mix of carnal desire and affection— a man starved of love.

The minute your lips part, his tongue is seeking out yours, heavy but sweet as he devours your mouth— you try your best to give him the same energy he’s pouring into you.

Your hips will themselves towards his, a slow deliberate grind against him, your fingers accentuating your need for more— and more he’s willing to give.

He pats your hip, signaling for you to hop on the counter, his hands grabbing the backs of your thighs helping you up.

A wet sensation has you nipples perking, Dave taking the weight of your breast in his mouth while he gently pinches and rolls your other nipple. The feeling of his warm mouth and the cool fabric of the dress against you sensitive skin elicits a small whimper, your head falling back and back arching into his touch.

“Dave..” You’re not even sure what you were going to say, your chest heaving and head clouded by lust. You’re putty at the hands of this man.

“Yeah, tell me—tell me what you want.” Kissing his every open space available to him— the top of your exposed chest all the way up your neck. His hands pushing your dress higher as he pushes your legs apart, prompting you to wrap them around him and pulling him in close.

“You. Always wanted you!”

A moan rips from his throat and he kissing you like he’s not sure if he’s ever going to again, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. Your own hands moving about, gripping his hair and caressing his face as your mouths work together.

Arousal thick and swarming, fueling the sexual fire that’s about to burn this fucking kitchen down.

At some point the reality of what is happening cracks through your brain and your body goes rigid— guilt washing over you like an ice cold bath.

Dave senses the shift in your demeanor and pulls away, brows pinched in concern as he tries to read your expression.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay— did I hurt you?” He’s breathless, his hair a mess from your doing, his lips full and he looks so beautiful in this post lustrous haze.

“N-no. I’m fine, I promise. I just— I can’t do this. I mean I want to, trust me I do. But it feels wrong.” You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to rest your forehead on Dave’s. “You’re still technically married and I’m no better than Carol if we let this continue with where this was headed.”

You can feel Dave nod in agreement before he pulls away, a brief kiss to your temple before he’s helping you off the counter and righting your clothes.

Your heart sinks at how quiet he is when he walks you to your car, you’re not sure what to say or how to feel.

You want to kiss him one last time, fearing this is it for the both of you, but you opt for a hug instead. His arms holding you close, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in one last time.

“Good night Dave.” Emotions high but you do your best to keep them hidden until you’re in the safety of your car.

“Night.” A subtle nod to you as you approach your car.

The drive home is bleak, ending a long time friendship and then turning down the man you’ve been in love with can conjure up a lot of emotions.

Time will tell whether you made the right decision.

*

Several Months Later…

Your work life has been hectic to say the least. But it’s kept your mind busy following that evening at the York’s house.

You hadn’t heard from Carol since that night, and you can only assume she thinks you told Dave which prompted his filing for divorce.

You wish you could say you were sad to lose your friend, but the truth is you feel lighter with out her in your life. You didn’t realize how miserable you were and how much she had made you feel unworthy of so many things in your life.

It felt like a blessing in disguise.

Then there was Dave. You hadn’t seen him either since leaving his home. You’d replayed that evening in the kitchen over and over again, which made you long for more than you should have. You’d both let feelings get in the way of what was right, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t wish things were different.

You think of him often as you go about your days and hope he’s doing well.

“Hi, what can I get you.” The sweet barista asks as you walk up to the counter in your neighborhood coffee shop.

“I’ll take a Latte with an extra shot and an everything bagel, to go please.” You have a few meetings today, so you need as much energy as possible.

“That’ll be $10.50.”

You begin to dig out your wallet to pay, only to realize you’d forgotten your wallet at home on the counter where you were paying bills last night.

“Shit! I—I forgot my wallet at home. I’m sorry, you can cancel—“

“Here. You can add it to my order.” A stranger with an oddly familiar voice steps up and hands the barista his credit card. “I’ll take an Americano and the same bagel order.”

As you go to thank the man for the kind gesture, you realize that this stranger is not in fact a stranger.

“Dave?”

“Hey!” His smile seems brighter and more relaxed. “How are you?”

“I’m— I’ve been good. How have you been?” You stammer over your words a bit, he was the last person you were expecting to see this morning.

“Can’t complain really. Work is, work and being a single divorcee isn’t all that bad.”

“Hmm. Single?” You try to contain yourself, but you’re just slightly giddy at his singleness.

“Yeah. Officially for about a month.”

“Congratulations— I think.” That makes him laugh.

“Thanks. Hey, do you want to sit for a bit.” Pointing over to an open table. “If you have time, I don’t want to interrupt your day.”

You glance down at your watch, your first meeting isn’t for 2 hours. You smile, grateful for your scheduling for the day.

“Yeah. I have plenty of time.”

[sakasakiii]

Hi!

I love your work!! Your art is very pretty. Do you have a specific idea of how old everyone is ? Do you lean more towards canon or do you have your own dates in mind ? If don’t wanna a answer it’s ok!

Hope u have a nice day

(Remember to drink water!)

hiiii nonnie!!! thank you for checking in, and im happy u like the stuff i put out!! when it comes to ages, it's difficult to answer sometimes bc of the way professor tolkien's timeline is-- it makes gauging one singular place where most of the cast can be compared something that makes my tired brain go 😵🤧🤕 but i love the prompt youve given! and thus heres my attempt at it

with most of my tolkien stuff, i always try to stick to canon wherever possible emphasis is on try lmao and the topic of ages is one such place. i do make exceptions to the Professor's canon sometimes for a few reasons: 1) i like some of the scrapped ideas in his drafts, or 2) i just prefer other options. with ages, i think the only charas with canon-established ages i deviated from are fingolfin, finrod, turgon, and aredhel. i try to keep cases like these minimal tho, so i hope it doesn't bother anyone too much... 👉👈

anyways i figured just dropping a list of numbers would be kinda boring to look at so heres an illustrated guide to what the ~rough~ ages of the finweans are in my head whenever i write or draw. Y.T. 1495 (the year Finwe dies) is the controlled medium ive used to enable a fair comparison of the Finweans

note: "born Y.T. xxx" means this is the canon date of birth listed on Tolkien Gateway. "est. born [xxx]" means this is a noncanon estimate:

the First Age gets a lot more muddled from there due to the hullaballoo of everything going on, so ill only be including the doriathrim and a few other denizens of nargothrond:

it's mostly the older elves that are more undefined/vague with their ages (i.o.w. others like elwing, earendil, the peredhil twins, and most Men all have set dates of birth), so they're all i'll be doing for now. but it's that vagueness which makes hcing all the more enjoyable, isn't it! plus since we’re on this subject, under the cut are just a few headcanons and musings ive had that i wanted to put somewhere 😙

Finarfin and Earwen were born within months of each other! Finwe and Olwe made a Really Big Deal out of when they found out their wives were pregnant at the same time. As a result, the two were often sent on many playdates with each other to “bolster healthy relations” between the Noldor and the Teleri. It wasn’t an arranged marriage situation, but I like to think they were goofy for each other from the start… Resulting in the two eventually getting married as soon as they came of age, the fastest out of all of Finwe’s kids to do so. 

The reason the Ambarussa are significantly younger than the other Finweans (especially the Feanorians-- there’s a 100 Valian year gap between them and Curufin alone!) is because I imagine they were accidental babies that even Feanor didn’t expect to conceive. too bad morgoth said "its morgin time!" and started Messing Things Up shortly afterwards.....

Anaire was Lalwen's good friend long before she married Fingolfin; they met through Lalwen who wingmanned Fingolfin the whole time. i like think Anaire'd be the best out of all the wives at keeping good, healthy bonds with all the women of her family :DD

luthien's potential 姐姐/big sis dynamic with all the younger doriathrim elves is something i daydream about a lot 😌 but sometimes the fact that she's older than finarfin keeps me up at night

this has been really fun, so thanks again for asking-- annnd yessir, i am chugging water as i write this so you better be doing the same ❤️ have a great start to your week!

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 2 of the losers bracket

Propaganda:

For John and Jack:

So, they both are literal murders. One of them is a little bit more insane than the other. Okay, the little bit part is not right, totally insane that is John, yes. But gonna love him though. He had been in rehab for alcohol, drugs, sex and murder. Don't kiss him, he might be wearing poisoning lipstick. They are canon mlm. They had been stuck in a two week time loop for five years, which was like leading a married life for them. They didn't actually marry, but they were partners, both in business and sexually. They worked together for an time agency. Then Jack's memories of two years were erased and he left. He went into  independent self deployment, doing scams using his knowledge of future events. After that he build an alien hunting institute in Cardiff, Wales. When John and Jack see eachother again after years, you don't know whether they will they kiss or fight. They do both. Did I tell you that along this story Jack became an inmortal who can't stay dead? No matter how or how often he dies or is killed, he keeps coming back to life. This is all very scraping on the surface, but oh boy, would it be at least a novella to describe them.

They worked together in the Time Agency where they did horrible things to the extent where Jack had two years of his memory stolen so that he couldn’t know what he’d done. They were also in a time loop together for five years where they canonically thought of each other as the wife (John was a good wife :3), and were basically married. Then they had a divorce arc and they both separately went rogue from the Agency to become conmen, although they still worked together/clashed on occasions, always still with that spark of passion. “Frenemies with benefits” Jack called them once, although John preferred “my lover, my rival, my nemesis and destiny. And bane of my bloody life.” Canon finds us where Jack has tried to reform and be a better person, but John is still chasing cons, and all he wants to do is bring Jack back to the stars with him, back to the crime and the glitter of the galaxies (it doesn’t work and he shoves Jack off a building but Jack got himself immortal so he’s fine <3) anyway I am very normal about them xoxo

In John's introduction to the series he shows up on a roof where some guy is mugging someone, grabs him by the throat and dangles him over the edge of the building while this guy begs for his life before dropping him just because he felt like it. When John and Jack interact for the first time in the show there's a super cool guitar riff, very evil western vibes, they walk up to each other, look deeply into each other's eyes, make out, then start throwing punches to Blur's Song 2. In one of the audio dramas we're told about various times where these two conned people, stole a bunch of money and gold and gems and stuff, then had sex with whoever it is they conned before (sometimes) killing them. When Jack devided he was done and left John to die John escaped and married the queen of England (Victoria) then locked Jack up somewhere to take his life force and live forever, destroying the timeline in the process. John has tried to kill all of Jack's friends at least twice to have him all to himself. He found Jack's long lost brother and when the brother turned out to be a terrible person with a vendetta against Jack John did everything he could to save Jack. Their relationship is canon but very one-sided most of the time

just this video

For the Doctor and the Master:

Immortal genderfluid war criminals <333

So we all know the Master has killed plenty of people, but, despite their reputation, the Doctor has killed a more than average number too. Sure they undid the whole destroying their own planet thing, but that's still something the Doctor did. Also there's apparently a novelization out there where, when they were children, the Doctor killed one of their childhood bullies but then made a deal with Death so that the Master had the memory of it and became Death's champion, which is pretty messed up and murder husbandish. There are plenty more war crimes on the Doctor's hands, and the Master has killed countless people in a variety of creative ways. Also, I'm having trouble finding the quote, but I swear the Master once said something to the lines of "trying to kill the Doctor is just my flirting" or something similar. But I do know Missy (also the Master but female at the time) described their relationship as "older than your civilization and infinitely more complex". They love each other, they're constantly trying to destroy each other, they are the only friends they each have who can even begin to understand everything they've been through; they've known each other since childhood and they've watched (and helped) civilizations rise and fall together. They may not be who you first think of for murder spouses but they really are a beautiful example.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 2

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the reaction to chapter 1 <3

AU's in general are always nerve wracking, but this one feels even more so because I am aware it's a little bit of an out-there idea. I really appreciate the support on this unhinged little fic, and I really hope you like this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She seeks him out on the train. 

He’d left the dining carriage not long after they left the district, and at first, she leaves him to it, giving him the space she remembers needing herself. It was strange to leave home, the only place you’d ever been, and not know if you’d be coming alive or in a body bag. Not everyone even got that, the brutality that the tributes sometimes showed each other beyond imagination, as if the Capitol had truly won in convincing them all that they were each other's enemies. Their gaze and anger turned inwards, instead of all of them looking out to see who was using them like chess pieces. 

She goes looking for him for a couple of hours, Kate’s crying eventually getting to her, too many memories of other tributes who hadn’t come home haunting her. The ghosts of children whose faces she’d never forget in every reflective surface she walked past. 

She finds him at the back of the train looking out of the large window, scenery they’d otherwise never get to see speeding past them, hints of life and freedom in the birds that flew between the trees. She clears her throat as she steps into the carriage and he looks up at her, his smile tight as their eyes meet. 

“Want me to leave you alone?” She asks, not stepping any closer to him and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he replies, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She nods and walks towards him, revealing that she has two glasses of scotch behind her back, smiling wryly as she tries to hand him one, “Here, I brought you this.”

He frowns, the smell from the glass familiar, the scent of alcohol something he thinks he might always associate with his father, “We’re not ol-”

“We’re old enough to die for a TV show,” she says, pressing the drink into his hand before she sits next to him, “I think we’re old enough to have a drink.”

He pauses for a moment and considers arguing with her. He thinks about putting the drink down, ignoring that she’d brought it to him, but he doesn’t. There was something about it pulling him in, the chance to break the rules, to do something he’d never done before, tempting as he thinks about the fact his days are numbered. He nods and takes a sip, something simmering in his gut when she smiles widely at him. 

He’d never been able to say no to her anyway. 

She laughs at him when he grimaces at the taste, at the burn in the back of his throat, and for a moment they are children again, playing in her mother’s house with no regard for anything other than the fun they were having. The train jolts and pulls them out of it, bringing them back to the harsh reality they were in. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods in response, “What happened with you and Haley?” 

He smiles sadly, scratching the back of his head as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he thought he’d one day marry, “We talked about the future. She wanted kids. I don’t,” he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world and then potentially sending them into this.” 

Emily nods even though he’s not looking at her, blowing out a steady breath, “I know what you mean. Especially now I’m a victor.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together with curiosity. He’s so close she could reach out and touch the line it creates between his eyebrows, press her thumb into the ravine that she’s sure would get so much deeper as he got older. 

If he ever got older. 

“Why?” 

She smiles sadly, “The kid of a victor would almost be guaranteed to go in the games,” she says her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “It makes good TV. It would show even the strongest of us aren’t protected.” 

There’s a pause, and it stretches out between them. Tied together with threads of their separate histories, tattered edges knotting together to create a morbid tapestry. 

“What about you and that guy from District One?” He asks, breaking the silence, his voice soft, as if he was afraid to ask. 

She smiles wryly, “Ian?” She says and he nods, making her chuckle, “Don’t believe everything you read, Aaron. He’s just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.” 

He isn’t sure what to say to that, how to feel about the wave of protectiveness that washes over him, so he clenches his teeth and decides to move the conversation on. 

“Where’s Kate?” He asks, looking at the amber liquid in his glass before he takes another sip, this one going down easier than the first. 

“Dave’s comforting her,” she replies, looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the trees, “She’s upset,” she says, even though it’s obvious. She looks at him and takes a moment to study him as he continues to look at his drink. He was handsome, he always had been, but the boyishness that had once been in his features had faded away. Sharp features had replaced once rounder ones as if they’d cut through from underneath, pushing away innocence and childhood with the harsh realities of life. He looks up at her and she clears her throat, pushing down the embarrassment that she feels at being caught staring at him, “What you did was really brave.” 

He laughs wryly and nods, blowing out a slow breath before he finishes his drink. It was objectively brave, he knew that, if he’d seen anyone else do it he’d think the same thing, but he didn’t feel brave. He couldn’t have let his brother do this, couldn’t let him march towards certain death when he could help. 

He wasn’t sure it counted as bravery when it was his only option. 

“He’s my brother,” he says simply, “I only did what was right,” he says as he puts down his empty glass. He can see her start to argue with him, the pinch between her brows something he’d seen countless times before, so he cuts her off before she can, “So, how does this work? Do you and Dave train us both? Do we have a mentor each?” 

She sighs at the change of subject but lets it slide, well aware that he needed to deal with this in the way he needed to, that her feelings weren’t important in any of this, “One each - I’ll be working with you, Dave will be with Kate.” 

He frowns, “I saw you with Tara last year,” he says, feeling momentarily regretful when she flinches for a second, a brief reaction she can’t control at the mention of the female tribute from the year before. She’d almost made it, survived until the final three, and then was killed by a career tribute from District One, “Don’t you usually work with the female tribute?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together to gather herself, “Yes but, because we’re friends Dave suggested I work with you,” she says, the lie slipping past her lips easily. 

She used to hate lying, used to think the truth was always the better option no matter what, but one thing she’d learnt since leaving the arena was that lying was the way to keep everyone she cared about safe. She’d asked Dave if she could work with Aaron and had ignored his concern. Selfishly, she wanted to spend as much time with Aaron as she could, so if she did lose him, if she had to watch him die helplessly and keep a straight face, she would be able to tell herself that she’d done her very best to help him. 

He chuckles wryly, “Friends? Em, we’ve barely spoken since I started to date…” he drifts off and shakes his head, cut off by the look of hurt that flashes across her face, guilt sparking in his gut, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend, her name turning to ash on his tongue at the thought of how she must be feeling about all of this. He sighs, “Look, that wasn’t fair. I’m-”

“No,” she says, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “You’re right. I haven’t…” she sighs and a humourless laugh escapes her, “It’s not been an easy few years.” 

The guilt in his belly catches fire, spreading through his blood as he reaches out and places his hand on her arm. It’s only when he does it that he realises it’s been years since he’d touched her, and he feels like an addict, the desire to never let go forcing him to do just that, his hand springing back like he’d been burned. 

“I am sorry, Em,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “I can’t imagine how you’ve felt since you came back.” 

She looks down at her arm where he touched her, his warmth lingering where his palm had been. She knows she’ll inspect her skin later, that she’ll check to see if he’d left a mark behind, if he’d somehow branded her with a simple touch because she can almost feel it burn. She looks up at him and smiles, and she shrugs half-heartedly. 

“Well, in a few weeks when we’re back on this train, you’ll know.” 

It’s false optimism neither of them buy into, but he can’t help but smile back at her, “Yeah,” he replies, “I will.”

___

She’s running. 

Her lugs hurt, her feet her almost numb with pain, a dampness in her shoes she knows is blood and not water, but she can’t stop running.

Her life depends on it. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide pretty. The things I’ll do to you when I catch you.” 

She’s only forced further forward by Karl’s words, by the foul implication dripping from them. She’d seen what he’d done to some of the other girls, and had seen the joy he’d derived from it. Emily wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of killing her, she was going to outlive him or she was going out on her own terms.

She curses as she realises she’s run into a dead end, her feet just touching the cliff edge as she comes to a stop. She can hear him gaining on her, his thundering footsteps getting louder, and she closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one final moment of peace, but when she opens her eyes she sees a shimmer in the sky. It’s almost discernible from the blue of the fake sky in above her but she sees it. She chuckles as she remembers what Dave had told her about the forcefield, about the edge of the arena, and she pulls her knife out of her pocket. She looks over her shoulder and sees that Karl is right behind her, a smirk on his face as if he had won already. She looks straight ahead and she throws the knife, immediately ducking as it hits the forcefield and bounces back. She’s knocked to the ground by the force of the soundwaves that echo around her, her hand automatically covering her ears as she tries to protect them. 

Everything goes eerily silent, everything overwhelmingly quiet after so much nose, and her hands shake as she removes them from her ears. Her arms are unsteady as she pushes herself up off the ground. She walks over to where Karl is lying, the same smirk still painted on his face, a grim flash burn of the last moment of his life, and her knife planted firmly in the centre of his chest. 

She jumps when the canon goes off, half convinced until that moment she’d lost her hearing, and she looks up at the sky, Karl’s face briefly emblazoned on it, before the disembodied voice of the game maker fills the arena. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this year's Hunger Games - Emily Prentiss.”

___

Aaron was exhausted. 

No matter how much training they did, how much preparation Emily had put him through the last few days, he couldn’t sleep. It alluded him, forever out of reach as he slept in a bedroom bigger than his childhood home. 

He’s walking around the apartment they’d been assigned when he hears her scream, the sound of it pulling him towards her room immediately. When he walks in she’s wrapped up in the bed sheets, twisting in the bed as if she’s trying to escape from something he can’t see. He runs over and sits on the edge of Emily’s bed, placing his hand on her sheet-covered knee and squeezing as he says her name.

“Em,” he says, quietly at first, not wanting to startle her, “Em, you need to wake up,” he says, shifting closer, his hand skating up her side as it lands on her shoulder. He turns her towards him and the look on her face, the devastation she couldn’t escape even in her sleep, makes him ache, “Sweetheart, please,” he says, the nickname slipping out of nowhere as he begs her to come back to him, “Wake up.” 

She sits up so fast that their foreheads would have collided if he hadn’t moved, a gasp loud enough to shake the walls escaping her as she looks at him, her eyes wide. She tries to shift away, as if she doesn’t recognise him, still half asleep as she tries to shake the rest of the nightmare off. 

“Emily, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She breathes heavily, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she frowns at him, recognition finally seeping into her eyes, “Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling encouragingly as he rests his hand on her shoulder again, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “It’s me. I was walking past and I heard you.” 

She frowns, “Heard me what?” 

He presses his lips together briefly as he weighs up his options, but he knows she needs the truth, “I heard you scream.” 

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, smiling softly at her. His gaze drifts to his hand on her shoulder and he lets it drop to the mattress, “Were you dreaming about the games?”

She nods, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart still hammers at her rib cage, the beat of it so hard she thinks her ribs might crack, that the places the Capitol doctors had put her back together would slowly unravel.

“Yeah,” she says, her nerves too shot from the nightmare to deny it, “It’s always the same moment.” 

He’d watched her games, and had felt relief when she’d won. It was the only one he remembers all the details of, the names of the other tributes forever burned into his memory.

They were people he’d prayed would die so the girl he loved would win. 

“What moment?” He asks without thinking, his eyes going wide as he realises what he’s said, “You don’t have to-”

“When I won,” she says, cutting over him, feeling a strange sense of relief in finally saying this to someone. She was under no illusion that her mother hadn’t heard her screams. Elizabeth made her coffee on the mornings after the worst nights, or sent for her favourite bread from the bakery. A silent apology that would have to do, because Emily knew if her mother asked about it, if she acknowledged what her daughter had gone through, the house of cards they’d built around themselves stuck together with half-truths and platitudes would come crumbling down, “It’s always the moment when I won.”

He nods, “The knife and the forcefield,” he says, “I didn’t know what you were doing at first.” 

She hums sadly, shaking her head she repeats the words she’d heard again and again anytime she saw footage of any of the games - hers included.

“The moment a tribute becomes a Victor,” she says, doing an impersonation of Penelope that gets a smile out of him that she matches, “Not that there are any Victors,” she says, her smile fading, “Just survivors.” 

Her words are heavy in the air, laying like a cloying blanket over them, an acknowledgement that even if he won that he’d never be free trapping them in place. He eventually clears his throat and starts to stand up.

“Well, I should go back-”

“Please stay,” she says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before she can stop herself, her basic instinct to keep him close winning out over everything else, “I…please stay.” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, he simply nods and climbs into bed next to her, careful to make sure he’s on the other side of the mattress from her, their bodies not touching as they lay next to each other. For a moment it’s awkward but he turns his head to look at her, a half smile on his face as her eyes meet his.

“I think this bed is bigger than my bedroom at home.” 

She chuckles and rests her head back on her pillow, “I will give the Capitol one thing,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “They sure know how to make a mattress.” 

When they wake up in the morning they are tangled together on his side of the bed, wrapped up like vines that had grown side by side, destined to become indistinguishable from one another.

___

“He needs to smile more.” 

Emily doesn’t look at Dave, doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen as she slaps his chest with one hand, the other by her mouth as she bites her cuticles, “He’s doing fine.” 

“He’s lucky he has the whole volunteering for his brother thing on his side,” Dave says as he steps closer to the TV, Aaron’s one-on-one interview with Jason Gideon, the host of the games, happening live in front of them, “Let’s be honest, not a lot of star power on that screen right now.”

“Shut up Dave,” she says, finally turning from the screen and looking at him, “He’s doing his best. I didn’t do great either.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “True. I think that was the first time they’d ever had to censor a 15-year-old on the show before.” 

She chuckles and looks back at the screen, blowing out a slow breath as she looks at the other tributes sitting behind Aaron as he speaks to Gideon, her gaze fixed on one of them in particular, “I don’t like the look of him.” 

Dave frowns as he leans in and gets a closer look, “Oh, that intense guy from four? What was his name…”

“George Foyet,” she says, turning to look at him, “He reminds me of Karl. I think he’ll get a kick out of it all.” 

“He does have that look about him,” Dave replies, watching her carefully, concern washing over him. She was clearly close to Aaron, or had been at some point, and he was worried she was setting herself up to get hurt. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Aaron’s room had been untouched for days and that Emily wasn’t screaming in the middle of the night anymore. “Bella, are you-”

“Shh,” she says, tuning back into what was being said, aware that the conversation was wrapping up. 

“So, do you have a special lady waiting back home?” Gideon asks and Aaron looks down at his hands before he looks at the camera and he shakes his head. 

“No, I used to but…” he trails off and shakes his head, “We broke up.”

“That’s a shame,” Gideon replies, leaning forward in his chair towards Aaron, “There must be someone else though, someone else you’ve had your eye on.” 

Aaron sighs and Emily swears she can see his thought process, can see him physically weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to say, “Well, there is someone. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember” he says, his smile tight, “But it won’t ever work.” 

“Why not?”

Aaron looks down the camera, an intensity in his eyes that, for a moment, makes Emily feel like he’s talking directly to her, “Because I came here with her.” 

She feels her breath catch in her chest as she flicks her gaze to where Kate is sitting on the stage, any vague hope she’d felt the last few days, waking up in his arms even when they fell asleep on separate parts of the bed, gone in an instant. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dave says, shaking his head, “Maybe he does have it in him.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, swallowing thickly, “Maybe he does.”

___

She avoids him after the interviews, purposely changing the habits she’d formed in the time they’d been in the Capitol, and it takes him a while to find her using the tactics she’d taught him on how to track someone against her.

He finds her on the roof of the building, her elbows resting on the edge as she looks out over the city. The fireworks going off in the distance make him feel sick, the celebratory feeling in the air more akin to that of a festival rather than marking the start of the death match between children that would begin in the morning. 

“Emily?”

She turns to look at him, her smile fake, the one she always wore in front of her mother or the cameras, as their eyes meet, “Aaron, what are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you,” he replies, walking over to join her, “You disappeared.” 

“I don’t have the privilege of being able to disappear,” she says, her grip on the wall in front of her tightening as the smell of him washes over her. He smelt different here, clean and fresh in a way that wasn’t always possible at home, the Capitol’s array of soaps something that had surprised even her and her relative privilege when she first came here. He smelt different, but there was something that was still him sneaking out from underneath, “Don’t you want to spend the evening with Kate?” 

She regrets it as soon as she asks it, pettiness winning out for a second. It could be his last night in some sense of normality before he died and she was upset because her feelings had been hurt, her unrequited love for him that had followed her everywhere her whole life making itself known at the worst possible time. She looks up at him, expecting to see the sting of her words on his face, but she’s only met with confusion.

“Kate?” He asks, and then it clicks into place, the assumption she must have made when he was speaking to Gideon, trying to win some kind of favour with the audience. He’d thought about his literature class at school, how the teacher had always told them that a love story pulled people in, and he’d thought of Emily. Thought of how her seat had been empty during that class because she’d been here in the Capitol, ready to fight for her life. He’d loved her for so long that it had felt good to admit it, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, “Oh, no. Em-”

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning to walk away, “I think I’m just tired-” she’s stopped as he grabs her shoulders and turns her to look at him, his expression intense, a hint of fierceness to it that makes her breath catch in her throat, “What-”

He cuts her off, his words falling free before he can even think about stopping them. He could be brave now. 

He might not have many chances left, 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, both of them frozen in place, “I was talking about you.” 

It’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear at the worst possible time, and her chest shudders as she lets out a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about Dave,” he says, offering her a half smile that fades as she doesn’t respond to the joke, “Em-”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“You stopped talking to me,” he says, no malice in his voice, only confusion that somehow made him seem younger. 

“I was protecting you,” she says quietly, “President Barnes, she…well let's just say, the people close to Victor’s don’t always have the longest life expectancy. The entire time I was in that arena I told myself if I lived I’d tell you. I’d admit what I’d always been too scared to…but I wanted you to live and be happy,” she laughs bitterly, “Even if it was with someone else.” 

He knows her well enough to read between the lines and he steps closer, the space between them so small now he can feel her breath skip across his face, “Are you saying…”

She nods, her eyes boring straight into his, an intensity in the darkness of them he’d never seen before, “I love you too.” 

Everything shifts, everything he thought he knew suddenly different, and the lingering fear he’d felt for days about what he was about to do disappears. For a moment he feels nothing but love for her. He leans in to kiss her, drawn in by the way she’s looking at him, but she stops him, her fingers pressed against his lips as she shakes her head desperately. It physically hurts to stop him but she can’t let herself have this, can’t have a taste of him when he might die tomorrow. 

“No,” she says, the word catching in her throat, “I can’t. You’re…I’ve dreamt of this for years and I don’t think one kiss, one evening would ever be enough,” she says, her thumb still resting against his lower lip, her entire body aching to lean forward to kiss him, “I can’t spend the rest of my life desperately trying to remember what it was like to kiss you.” 

He wishes he could pretend that he didn’t understand, but he does. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. Whether it was one night or a lifetime, and if he was her, if he was the one sending her off to what could end up being her death, he knew he couldn’t do it either. That the unknown was better, that it would allow her imagination to live on after him. He tightens his hold on her, pulling her into a fierce hug so he doesn’t go against her wishes, settling for kissing the top of her head instead, for smelling her hair and the shampoo that had always been too nice for where they came from.

“How about,” he says, a hand on either side of her face as he pulls back to look at her, his thumbs catching tears as they land on her cheeks, “ If I live, I’ll take you on a date when I get back?” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head as she presses her forehead against his, “Aaron…” 

He cups the back of her head and encourages her backwards again, the same smile she’d fallen in love with when she was too young to understand what it meant painted across his face, “Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Give a man going off to his death something to live for.” 

She has to bite back the tears, not wanting his last memory of her to be one full of sorrow. She blows out a shaky breath before she nods. She smiles shakily at him and wipes a tear from his face as she does so, pushing it away trying to commit the feel of his skin against hers to her memory.   

“Okay,” she says, nodding, an edge of desperation to it, “It’s a date.” 

-x-

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