#but when they did reveal those parts they like added more to what we thought and blew our minds yeah....

[realboutfatalfury]

finally finished zero escape 999

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)

The three times you sense something strange when everyone pairs you with Spencer, and the one time you understand why.

Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencer’s educational background, it’s hard writing a genius Words: 5.6k (not proofread, I’ll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes) A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you don’t mind reading more😌

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

I. The Forced Partner

There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luck—or preferably yours.

It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you would’ve thought he’d keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room. 

The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand. 

“I’m Dr. Nina Patel, I’ll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.”

You nodded, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table. 

“Our Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.”

Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?" 

"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."

You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body. 

"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. It’s possible she was placed there post-mortem."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.”

You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."

Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. “It’s plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. We’re running some tests as we speak.”

Spencer chimed in quickly after that. “The Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,” he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, “They’d metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s impressive, Dr. Reid,” Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. “Did you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?”

“I actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.”

Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite a formidable educational background. No wonder you’re so thorough with your analyses.”

You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just so—it was a tone you recognized all too well.

She was flirting with him.

You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasn’t like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didn’t involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.

You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.

“Can we continue?” 

Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. “Of course.”

She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didn’t comment.

It wasn’t until you had all the information you needed—and after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at him—that Spencer finally spoke up.

“She seems nice,” he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.

You shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Am I missing something?” 

You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed. 

“It’s just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,” you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.

And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustration—it clicked. “Wait, are you... jealous?”

“No, I’m not!” You replied quickly, then softer, “I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

You scoffed. “No, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.”

“Oh, so now we’re friends?”

“I meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.”

“Right,” Spencer replied sarcastically. “I didn’t realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you snapped. “Stop making it into something it’s not.”

“Sure.”

“Reid.”

“Y/L/N,” he shot back in the same flat tone.

Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, brushing past him.

You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mystery—nothing more.

You were not jealous.

II. The Unavoidable Flight

“I’m telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. “It was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?”

“Why are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,” Penelope responded. “He’s not my type, but he clearly has admirers.”

Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I don’t understand what they see in him.”

“It might be that genius brain of his—totally irresistible to some.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.

Penelope responded with a sly grin. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“Like someone who’s maybe a little jealous.”

You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.”

“I’m focused on maintaining a professional work environment,” you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. “Not about… whatever you’re implying.”

“Fine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?”

“Hypothetically, oh my god,” Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?”

You paused at the entrance, processing her question. “I’d do nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yes, I’d do nothing because I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what any jealous person would say.”

You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To find a spot where my supposed jealousy isn’t your inflight entertainment,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew you were jealous!”

“Supposed jealousy!”

Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.

It was perfect.

“Garcia! That’s my usual spot,” Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.

“But it’s so comfortable,” Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. “Come on, Reid, I don’t travel as much as you do. Let me have it.”

Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelope’s exaggerated comfort. “Where would I sit?”

“You can sit…”

You quickly closed your eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t–

“Over there! There’s an empty spot in front of Y/N.”

You were going to kill her.

You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, he’d pick another chair—perhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, or—

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“I know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.

“Actually, yes, I do mind.”

He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.

"Reid,” you warned him. “I’m serious.”

"I know you are.” His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know that you snore when you sleep?”

You gasped. “I do not!”

“You do. You sound like a little chainsaw.”

You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.

“A chainsaw? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Well, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."

“Don’t make me throw you off the plane.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Just so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should try—ouch!”

You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.

“Consider that your first and only warning,” you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

“See, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate your—”

“Good night, Reid.”

There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard it—a slight, barely audible chuckle.

You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Maybe you were already dreaming.

III. The Lock-in Incident

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. “Can you take these down to the filing room? Spencer’s already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.”

You eyed the thick folder in JJ’s hands. When there wasn’t an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.

But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you going there?” She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.

Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.

“Maybe you should go down there instead.”

“I can’t,” she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. “I’ve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.”

Your eyes glanced over to Derek’s desk across from you. “Morgan?”

He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. “Sorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.”

“Oh, come on.” You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. “I’ll do you a favor—anything you want.”

Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but I really can’t. This report’s due in an hour.”

Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emily’s desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.

You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your options—or lack thereof—settle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.

With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I have more work for you,” you announced in a sing-song voice.

Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. “Nope. They’re yours, not mine.”

You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. “Are you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what you’ve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work got… scrambled.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he quickly warned. “Hand them over. I’ll do it myself.”

You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.

“Really?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. “You know, we could actually get this done much faster if you’re not acting like a child.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re the mature one.”

“At least I’m trying to get the job done, not make it harder.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight about every little detail, it wouldn’t be so hard,” you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.

“I’m not uptight. I’m precise. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.

“Did that just…?” He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. “Great, it’s locked.”

“What?” You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Who the hell locked it?”

“I don’t think anyone did. These old doors… they stick. It’s probably just jammed,” Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.

Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.

But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.

“Look, let’s just keep working,” he suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.”

You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. “Fine. But if we’re still stuck here by the time we’re done, you’re explaining this to Hotch.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. “How do I do this?”

“Sort them by case type first, then by date within each type.”

“So, this one would go under…?”

“Unsolved homicides,” Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. “And make sure it’s in chronological order with the others.”

You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. “Wait,” you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. “I think this was my first case.”

You read through the document and nodded.

“Yes, look, it’s the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,” you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. “That was such a hard case. Remember how I couldn’t stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?”

When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.

“Of course, you don’t remember,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you even remember?”

A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“October 19, 2011.”

You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The date you started working here,” Spencer said, still focused on his task. “You wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“The case was in St. Louis,” Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. “Your first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.

“You cried when you came back from talking with the victim’s family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.”

You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.

“You also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.”

He remembered.

The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.

“You…” The frown on your face deepened. “You remembered.”

There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. “It’s hard not to."

You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed he’d rather keep his distance?

You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. “I forgot you have an eidetic memory.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.

IV. The Table For Two

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You expect me to believe it was an accident?” Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. “That the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?”

“The doors are old,” she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. “You know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.”

Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. “Right, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?”

JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then somebody did.”

“Y/N,” she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. “Nobody did.”

You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. “You guys are so annoying.”

JJ laughed. “How did you get out of there anyway?”

You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.

"We had to call Garcia to let us out,” you said, your tone dry. “She found the whole thing hilarious."

JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."

“She’s already teasing us about it.”

Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. “Did anything happen while you two were in there?”

You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. “Not really,” you admitted. “We just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.”

“But did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?”

“Jennifer,” you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what had—or hadn’t—happened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.

“I know, I know, it’s complicated,” she conceded. “Just thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.”

“Well, you thought wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."

You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.

“…right now… sure… no, it’s fine… I can be there in ten… of course, honey...”

You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.

"I need to head home,” she said, a bit too casually. “Will got called into work unexpectedly.”

Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccable—a little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that ‘the kid needs to go out more’.

But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.

"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. “Is everything okay?”

JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.

“Well, if you really have to go…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.”

“Details? What details?” You called after her but she was already walking away. “JJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?”

She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.

Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I can’t make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)

Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.

“Morgan’s late,” he announced as a greeting.

“He’s not coming,” you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “And neither is JJ or Penny.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” you replied with a sigh. “But it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

"What is?"

“That we’ve been set up,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “They’re not coming, and I’m willing to bet they never planned to.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You think they did this on purpose? Why would they—”

“Come on, Reid,” you interrupted. “They’ve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?”

Spencer’s gaze hardened slightly. “I don’t need to be manipulated into having a conversation,” he said sharply.

“And you think I do?” You retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s not a date,” Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go home.”

There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. “You want to go home?”

“You don’t?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I mean, we’re already here. Might as well stay and eat. It’s not like I have any better plans.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.

It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argument—it all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option you’d choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.

“Fine,” you finally said, brushing past him. “But you’re paying.”

Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile. 

"A table for two?" 

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that's—um, that will be fine."

The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.”

You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. “I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme.”

You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. “They’re always meddling. They don’t know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And this—this is just so...” 

“Annoying?” He offered.

“Infuriating,” you emphasized, throwing your hands up. “It’s infuriating. And embarrassing. And—”

“And yet, here we are,” he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. “You know, maybe we should just give them what they want.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.”

“Reid,” you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. “They don’t want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.” 

Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.

“You’re right,” he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.

You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?

The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldn’t imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.

[smeddiemunson]

(part 1 here)

After they narrowly escape being fucked up by what Eddie had planned for them (a goblin ambush they were completely underprepared for), the Hellfire members took their sweet time in clearing up after themselves; an unspoken agreement between the older members to hang around long enough to see just how Eddie behaves around Steve.

Gareth didn’t think Dustin had figured it out. He just connected dots he doesn’t know are on the same playing board, Eddie’s mystery crush and Steve’s favourite song nothing more than a coincidence. Or at least Gareth hoped that’s how it’s playing out, he knew it took a lot, more than his posturing would ever imply, for Eddie to reveal his big secret to the band. He didn’t want Eddie to have to confront that again until he felt ready, even if it is just to some kids.

Jeff was kneeling on the floor, reaching under the table where he pretended to drop a bag of dice when Steve began to make his way down the stairs.

Over his shoulder he called out, “Thank you, Mrs Wheeler!”

Jeff didn’t see the way Eddie perked up just at the sound of his voice, but Gareth and Grant certainly did.

“Are you flirting with Mrs Wheeler again, Stevie?” Eddie teased, ignoring the way Mike retched and groaned about it being gross.

‘Stevie?’ Gareth mouthed to Grant, who just shrugged. Nicknames are a dime a dozen when Eddie decides he likes a person. Gareth had been Gare-Bear for as long as he’d known him, Jeff was Jeffy, and Grant got to be ad-Grant-age. Stevie was a bit different, Stevie was close, affectionate in a way that the nicknames that usually spilled from Eddie’s lips weren’t.

This was maybe worse than they thought.

The last crush Eddie had was there and gone almost in a blink of an eye. Connor from his home room who doodled stick figure drawings of their teachers to pass to Eddie every morning until the jocks got to him and Eddie was cast aside again. But for two precious weeks, Eddie was happy, nice, and didn’t freak when Grant snapped a guitar string that meant they couldn’t practise until he got his hands on a replacement.

This was wholly different. Steve didn’t even bat an eyelash at the affectionate tone, in fact, Gareth thought he saw a faint pinkness colour his cheeks; though he didn’t know if it was just the heat of the basement that did it.

“Convincing her you haven’t yet corrupted her children more like,” Steve laughed.

Jeff, who had now appeared from under the table, made a half aborted motion towards Mike that only Gareth and Grant could see from their side of the table. There was no question that Eddie had sunk his claws into Wheeler and the boy was fully corrupted. If they didn’t know better, they could’ve confused Mike for Eddie’s brother, the resemblance now so uncanny.

Eddie smiled. A real one that took up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle.

Definitely worse than they thought.

Steve turned to the kids. “Henderson, you’re with me. Byers you’re with Eddie. Sinclair, I trust you can walk next door without supervision?” He glanced at his watch while Lucas nodded as if this weren’t the first time he’d been questioned in such a way. “And we’ve got thirty minutes until curfew so get moving.”

The kids, naturally grumbled but they didn’t argue, which was yet another weird thing for the Corroded Coffin boys to experience. Those kids argued with everything.

“Oh hey, Ed, Argyle is getting in late Friday night so pool party at mine on Saturday. You in?” Steve dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, trying to act casual, as if he didn’t care about Eddie’s answer. But it was clear as day to Gareth, who didn’t even know him, that Steve really really cared.

Eddie’s face fell. “Sorry, band practice on Saturday. We’ve got a show coming up so…”

Gareth jumped in before he had to watch either of them start crying. “You can go after, Eddie. My mom’ll kill me if we spend all day in the garage anyway.”

Steve’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

Now Gareth couldn’t be certain, he wasn’t certain about anything in his life except for his love of Iron Maiden and the reality that he was never leaving Hawkins, but he was fairly sure Steve Harrington might just return Eddie’s feelings.

“Awesome! Hey, you guys should come too! It’s only gonna be a small thing: me, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and his friend Argyle.”

“Um, thanks, but—“ Jeff cut off in his refusal with a groan as Gareth and Grant not so subtly dug their elbows into his stomach.

They were going to have to spend more time in the orbit of Eddie-and-Steve if Gareth was going to be able to figure out if feelings were a two way street. He wasn’t super excited about the prospect of spending all afternoon playing nice with rich kids, but he’d done worse things for the sake of making Eddie happy. He could do this as well.

“We’d love to!” Grant filled in a little too excitedly. Gareth shot him a look that hopefully conveyed his need to calm down.

“Where do you live?”

Steve smiled. “Teddy knows, he’s been enough times. Oh and you’re welcome to crash after, if you want. There’s enough space.”

“Teddy,” Gareth echoed. They all knew about Eddie’s mom’s nickname for him. Eddie’s dead mom’s nickname for him, and the way he never wanted a reminder.

Steve laughed. “Yeah because he’s just so cuddle-able!”

Eddie, through clenched teeth and a bright red blush, hissed. “Shut up.”

Oh and his eyes pleaded with Gareth to let it go, that they wouldn’t talk about it later.

Clue 5. Eddie was completely aware of how smitten he was.

“We’ll be there, Harrington,” Gareth said, the finality on the matter that Jeff would be arguing with him about later.

Steve smiled so wide it was almost blinding. He left with a squeeze to Eddie’s shoulder, hand lingering longer than necessary, and Dustin moaning about why the kids hadn’t been invited to a pool party.

There were two things Gareth knew for sure. One: Eddie wasn’t just crushing on Steve Harrington, he was well on his way to being in love with him. Two: Steve was either just the chillest guy alive (unlikely) or he returned Eddie’s feelings.

Either way, Gareth had some meddling to do.

(part 3)

[mask131]

November is usually my Shining month, and so I want to bring forward again something I have been repeating for a long time now but that I don't see being picked up a lot by people. A detail that is well-hidden inside the Doctor Sleep movie, but that makes the piece even more infinitely appreciable and shows it was made by true Shining fans.

And this detail is... the ghosts of the Overlook Hotel.

Now, when this bunch appeared during the final scene some familiar faces could be spotted. Grady of course, the Injured Guest from the "Great party, isn't it?" scene, the Twins, and of course the Woman of Room 217 -sorry, 237. But there are other faces there - seemingly random people in fancy outfit just for the sake of it. People were confused as to who these people were...

But all you have to do is look at the end credits. And you have a big surprise.

The familiar faces are confirmed to be the ghosts we always thought we were, or to correspond to famous ghosts of the original novel. The twins are confirmed as Grady's two daughters, while the woman in the white dress (not on the picture above but you can her in the scene) is Mrs. Grady. Meaning we have the whole Grady family as ghosts. The woman of room 237 is confirmed to be indeed Mrs. Massey, just like in the book ; as for the Injured Guest (only referred to as "injured guest" in the original scripts of The Shining), the sequel decided to make him Horace Derwent. Meaning he likely can switch between a young/attractive and older/more gruesome form, just like Massey's ghost, since in the original movie Derwent was clearly seen though not named in the scene with the man wearing a dog-bear-like costume (the script confirms it is supposed to be a dog costume though).

Alright, but what of the others? Now this is where things get interesting! The bald man to the right of Grady? That's Vito the Chopper. Yes, the Vito the Chopper from the novel by King, the mafia boss who got his head blown off in the Presidential Suite - as for the two men near him, they are his two bodyguards, Victor T. Boorman and Roger Macassi. Also from the book. These three characters are actually an Easter egg for those who read the book (and we know from the original treatment of Kubrick's movie that the criminal paradise-era of the Overlook and the murders at the Presidential Suite were originally supposed to play a big role in the cinema version of the story too).

But things get even better with the last ghost of the group. He doesn't appear in the picture above either, like Mrs. Grady, but you can notice him during the scene, a large man right behind Mrs. Grady when the ghosts first appear (he is played by Marc Farley). And the ghost's name, as revealed in the credits is... James Parris.

Now, fans of the novel might wonder "Wait... Who's that? I don't recall reading about him". And indeed, you did not! At least if you just read the regular version of the novel! James Parris is however a true character of the Shining, a true victim of the Overlook Hotel, a character written about and invented by Stephen King... But he is part of the deleted prologue of the novel, "Before the Play". You know this prologue that was not part of the published novel but was released in various TV magazines several times, and then finally re-added to the main novel in the collector Cemetery Dance edition of "The Shining"? You must have heard of it - even before the Cemetery Dance release the prologue was going around the Internet, published on small fan websites and discreet literature blogs...

And James Parris was, according to the first part of this prologue (detailling the building and creation of the Overlook... and its first victims) the second owner of the Overlook Hotel. A man that was touched by the same obsession and madness for the hotel that had overtaken Watson's grandfather (the actual builder and first owner of the Hotel), and, if I recall well, ended up dying of a heart attack on the hotel's garden-grounds (near the topiary beasts if I recall well, but I am not too sure, I haven't read the prologue in a while).

So all of that to say - not only did they bother placing an Easter Egg for the fans of King who had read the original book ; but they also placed an Easter Egg for those that knew of or had read the Before the Play prologue, which most regular fans of the novel never even heard about! If this isn't commitment to researching your source material, I don't know what is!

[xuterboo]

Good time everyone!

The cutting and analysis of images continues, and today my hands finally reached the Lost Paradise.

Let's meet our beauties!

Let's start with the broken king. Lost Paradise has quite a motley crew. Also, everything on the clothes is very scattered. Lucifer is wearing a strict black suit and a white striped shirt. An interesting observation: for Luci, both when he was still an angel and when he fell, The chest is open, emphasizing the scar. And he did not appear because of a fall from heaven. The scar was probably received before these events. (Fight for Seraphim's place?)

As shown in Liouifer's stories, his snake is alive, or rather, can come to life and move on its own.

I just want to throw in one thought: the biblical seraphim were created only to fly next to God and sing into his ears that he is so wonderful. This means that all Seraphim, including Luci, have a beautiful voice)

Well first of all, gooooospaby, how I love this dragon!!

And secondly, doesn’t it seem strange to anyone that the staff of Gamigin (the dragon) are different from Gamigin (the demon)? As you know, Gamigin (dragon) devoured the demon who slept with him, and apparently the dragon's pearl greatly changed the staff.

The gamigin himself is dressed in formal attire. But the casual look of directional sleeves makes the look looser. And also sneakers. Sneakers, damn it. Okay, if he likes it, then I won't mind. Blue color evokes pleasant and gentle sensations, but also helps reduce the desire to sleep. Nice contrast between Gamigin's activity and tenderness

Marbas... His clothes are more like ordinary clothes in a mental hospital, but the factory did not have white fabric, and they took some kind of black one. I still don’t quite understand why he would chain himself in this during a fight. This is inconvenient and even dangerous. Either I don't understand something, or I don't understand something. But nevertheless, he has a very interesting design.

No shoes. My pants are constantly falling down (my friend: Was it too weak to lower my pants any lower?) I have a long-sleeve shirt that reveals my shoulders almost completely. Acts as a straitjacket, but looks good in everyday life. (I hope it doesn't hurt for him to walk😔)

My sunshine Morax!☺️ I love him so much, I just can’t 🥹

He already has a more strict form of someone like a general. It can be assumed that he is more responsible for the military part of Lost Paradise .

He is probably in the same position as Glasialabolas (I hope I wrote it correctly), but as we have already noticed, PL is a more modest country than in Hades. Origin unknown. Most likely born in LP

He's covered in bandages. God, please give him a rest. Tie him down, but let him recover.

Next up is Buer. One of two demons, behind which there is some kind of creature. You can guess from his clothes that he is from Tartarus. But with feet stained with the gold of the Tartarus River, his origins are confirmed.

Dressed in a kimono of gold, red and black. In China these colors mean wealth (who would doubt it), joy and prosperity. (Buer makes me feel like he is a Chinese healer living high in the mountains. Healing, only those who have a pure soul, hee hee hee)

Also, according to official data from the Belphegor event, I am adding Batin to this collection, since he was born in the Lost Paradise.

He is a laid back lover of travel. Like most of the demons of Paradise Lost, he is dressed in black. Apparently in Nifelheim, Batin is also something of a general. In every country, one way or another there is a demon responsible for the troops, but in Gehenna this is not visible, since everyone has the same uniform.

I'm not entirely sure what culture Paradise Lost represents, as there's a lot going on there. I think this is the people who came together piece by piece from other countries. They brought something of their own to the new lands, combining knowledge with others, and this is how they turned out to be a unique nation. Friendly and quiet by nature. But as soon as you get to know them better, you will immediately see the warmth,which they emit. Although there is another facet that is in the shadows - their cruelty and indifference. It is shown when Adu or their loved ones.

The text turned out longer than I thought. OK...Thank you for reading! Write your interesting observations or thoughts about Paradise Lost!

[morganski-19]

The One With the Chick and the Duck

When Steve opens the apartment door, Robin, very suspiciously, hides something behind her back. Music blaring through the apartment. Much louder than she normally likes to keep it.

“What did you do,” Steve sighs. Seeing right through whatever act she is trying to play right now.

Before she can even start to explain herself, Eddie opens the door. Forcing Steve off to the side. “Alright, so I was looking into supplies, and it looks like we need a heat lamp-. Oh, hey Steve.”

He quickly shuts his phone off and shoves it into his back pocket.

Steve nods, skeptically and a little pissed. He takes off his bag and sets it on the counter, crossing his arms to look at them. “What did you both do? Apparently.”

“Nothing,” Eddie tries to play off. Not successfully. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe because you came in saying you need a heat lamp, and now are acting weird. And the fact that Robin’s very clearly hiding something behind her back.” The song changes to something with a lot of bass, making the floor start to shake. “Could we turn down the music please, we’re going to get a noise complaint.”

Robin reaches out, very awkwardly, to grab her phone and turn down the music. One of her arms never leaving behind her, and her feet staying rigid in one spot.

With the music turned down, Steve can hear the gently chirping. “What the fuck is that?”

“Just must be part of the song or something,” Robin lies.

“Yeah, part of the song,” Eddie agrees.

Steve moves around the counter, coming closer to Robin. Slowly starting to walk around her. Robin spins in a circle, keeping her front to Steve’s. Steve jerks to the right, making Robin force to her left. The chirping getting slightly louder.

“Careful,” Eddie exclaims, concerned. “You’ll hurt them.”

“Them?” Steve says, surprised. “There’s more than one?”

Robin sighs, giving up. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Kinda late for that.”

She reveals what was hiding behind her back. A cardboard box filled with a small layer of straw. A small chick and a duckling sitting amongst it. Both of them now staring at Steve. Curious.

“Where’d you get those?”

“The pet store,” Robin fills in like it’s no question at all.

“A pet store that suddenly sells chickens and ducks,” Steve exclaims. “In the middle of the fucking city.”

Eddie is nervously rocking back and forth on his feet. “We might have gone a little out of our way. We saw an add on Instagram, and just went for it.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are worse than my students sometimes. Is there a return policy?”

Eddie gasps. “You would make us return these gentle creatures? How dare you?”

“We are not people that can take care of these kinds of animals. Not here! They need a coop, and grass, and places to walk around. Not an apartment with fake wood flooring.”

Robin looks down into the box, reaching a finger out to gently pet the chick’s head. “But we could try. And then when they get unhappy, we could find a nice farm for them to live on. We could give them a better home than where they were.”

“I thought you said you got them at the pet store.”

“The pet store,” Eddie draws out, “might have been a bit misleading. Technically, we found them outside of the pet store. In a much worse cardboard box.”

Robin looks at Steve with wide eyes, almost pleading. “They were calling out to us, Steve. They were so sad.”

“So sad,” Eddie adds.

“And helpless.”

Eddie moves behind Robin, adding to the pleading. “So helpless.”

“What did you want us to do, leave them there?”

“In the cold? The rain? The snow?” Eddie accentuates each question in rising volume and dramatics.

“It’s August,” Steve questions.

“Doesn’t matter. They were abandoned so we graciously took them in. Now you are being mean and want us to give them away.”

Before Steve can get another word in, the door opens again. Argyle coming through with a happier than normal expression. “Guys, I’ve been thinking. How about Cheese and Quakers for their names?”

Robin and Eddie both gasp excitedly at the suggestion. Looking down that the animals with bright smiles.

“Great, now they have names.” Steve opens his phone and types a quick message. Nancy coming through the door quickly after.

“What’s this about a chick and a duck?” She asks before noticing the box in Robin’s hands. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Steve says. Very annoyed.

Jonathan shuts the door behind him. “You brought in strays again?” he questions toward Argyle.

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“Saw you leave with that look in your eye, and thought it was no good. So I followed you.”

“Sometimes I hate the fact that you know me so well.”

Jonathan crosses his arms. “I’m guessing they have names already, too? You were always the best at those.”

Argyle, very dramatically, moves to stand next to Robin. Gesturing to the box with his arms. “Meet Cheese and Quakers.”

“Don’t get attached,” Steve interrupts. “We’re returning them.”

Robin, Eddie, and Argyle all snarl in disgust.

“There is no place to return them, Steve,” Robin snaps. “We found them on the side of the road, remember.”

“Who leaves a random chick and duck on the side of the road,” Nancy questions. Still catching up on the whole ridiculous story.

“And why were the three of you together,” Jonathan continues the questions. “Without us.”

Eddie crosses his arms, rolling his eyes. “What? Three friends can’t hang out with each other without the rest of the group?”

“Wait a second.” Steve pulls out his phone and looks up an add on Facebook. “Was this the road you found them on?”

He shows them a flyer for discounted chicks and ducks located at a house on the edge of the city. Something about more eggs hatching than was necessary.

“We’ve been made,” Eddie not so subtlety whispers toward Robin and Argyle.

“How’d you know about that?” Robin asks, still trying to stick to their story.

Steve puts his phone away. Getting the energy of someone who’s about to prove a point. “I saw you looking at it last night. Didn’t think you would actually go through with it though.”

Robin gives a sad shrug. “They just looked to cute, and they were really cheap.”

“And then she might have sent it to me, and I might have encouraged it,” Eddie adds.

“And then they both sent it to me, and the plan was formed,” Argyle finishes.

Nancy asks to see Steve’s phone again. Looking at the flyer. “They’re nonrefundable. What’s the real harm in letting them keep them?”

Steve looks at Nancy betrayed. “I thought you would be on my side about this.”

“Look at them right now.”

Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan look at the three surrounding the box with the small animals. All looking half in love with the birds and saddened by the fact that they might have to give them up. Jonathan lets out a big sigh before moving to go stand by Argyle.

“I don’t see a real reason why they would have to give up the birds.”

The three of them look toward Jonathan with excitement.

He holds up a hand to lower that. “As long as you get them the proper equipment, feed them the proper food, and deal with the angry neighbors if that chicken turns out to be a rooster. All that shit.”

Nancy thinks for a second before walking over and standing next to Eddie. “I think it would be easier for all of us if we just let them keep them. There’s much less moping involved.”

Steve crosses his arms, betrayed by his friends. But he looks at the ones now connected with these birds, and feels himself start to crumble. There’s not much he would reject when it came to Robin. And she’s looking at him with those puppy eyes that he hates because of how much they manipulate him.

“Fine,” he concedes. They let out a small victorious shout. “But, you have to decide what apartment they stay in, and if you want to move them around. And more importantly, keep the birds out of my bedroom.”

“Those,” Eddie points at Steve, “are reasonable conditions. Welcome to the family Cheese and Quakers.”

This whole thing ends with all of them actually going to the pet store. After Robin and Eddie convince Nancy to help them with their research about what supplied they need. A list is made, and they get everything. Setting up a little enclosure for the birds with a heat lamp and a small amount of food. And some things that were probably meant for hamsters, but they thought would be cute.

Robin gets the first rotation, setting up the birds on the kitchen counter. They squeak happily until they fall asleep well into the night. Robin is staring at them lovingly while Steve is getting glass of water before bed.

“You seriously can’t hate something that looks so adorable,” Robin says to him, gesturing to the birds.

He has to admit, they are pretty cute when they are quiet. “I really hope that chick isn’t a rooster.”

“Yeah,” Robin winces. “We did not think about that before buying them.”

Note: Sorry for not posting one of these in a while. I took a short break in posting all together but needed time to think of ideas that weren't pure angst (or ones I did before in another fic). So, if any of you have some funny ideas, feel free to throw them in my asks. Even if it's just a one line joke, it'll give me the inspiration for something.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot

[thelittleliars]

Valentine's day getaway

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: fluff

Words: 1.6K

Summary: A little roadtrip on Valentine's with your girlfriend.

A/N: a little one shot for valentine's day because I want Nat to be my Valentine 😭

The sun rays shone directly through the window of the car where you sat. You didn't mind feeling the warmth of the first few sun rays on your skin, you actually liked it. What you didn't like was the long sitting, you itched to stretch your legs and get that pain away that your butt got from sitting for nearly three hours. Those two little breaks you already had did not help a bit. You groaned in discomfort. "Tell me, why are we even driving again? We could have borrowed a quinjet." Natasha, your girlfriend quickly looked over to you with a grin before focusing on the street again. "Because I like driving and I love spending time with you." 

"I always love doing something with you Nat, but driving 3 1/2 hours just to a cabin up in Northville is not something I imagined when you say you want to spend time with me."

"Yeah well.. I wanted some alone time with you, away from everyone and it's a cabin nobody knows about." She told you softly. You nodded and then added your thoughts to it. "Nobody but your sister, you mean." 

"Only because she helped me with the final decision." Your girlfriend revealed as it made you even more excited to arrive there. "That's nice of her." Natasha snorted, knowing Yelena only did something nice if it benefitted her. "It's obvious she only did that for her own gains. It'd be another safe house."

"That or so that she could annoy her big sister." You teased but it kind of backfired when you heard more of an angry grumble. "Probably both." You instantly shifted the conversation back to the cabin alone. "I want a whole tour when we arrive." Natasha didn't say anything else, she only gave you a smirk that made you sigh in relief, she wasn't angry or mad. 

The rest of the drive was silent except for the punk-rock radio station that was playing in the background. You became giddy as your girlfriend pulled into the tiny driveway. The cabin looked small but also cozy from the outside. Natasha quickly hauled your duffel bags out the trunk and joined you at the front door. She unlocked it with the keys she had and let you in first. You were too amazed with how pretty it looked that Natasha had hushed past you to even close the door. Only after you heard her cursing further in the cabin, you put your admiration aside and rushed after her. Then there you saw the blond widow, Yelena Belova as she had made herself comfortable on the sofa. 

"I made plans Yelena." Natasha didn't shout or yell at her sister but her frustration was still very clear in her voice. The blonde girl ignored it and smiled at you two. "Great! Now you can include me in those plans." You didn't know if the little widow had the same idea as you, a weekend away from the Avengers or if she knew about the older woman's plans and simply were here to annoy her.

"No." She said it sternly and glared hard at her sister, hoping that the little widow would get a hint. But she did not or she ignores it and continued to fuck around with the older widow. "Why not?" You waved to her as a little hello, she greeted you back with a grin and a nod. "Because that would be fucking disgusting!" Yelena furrowed her eyebrows. "So you're calling me disgusting now?" You were holding yourself back from laughing. The sibling interaction was too funny for you. 

"Let me spell it out for you since you can't seem to get it." Natasha grunted. "I have planned romantic and sexualthings."

"Eww why'd tell me about that?! I didn't need to know it." Yelena made a gagging noise while she shows the disgust with a clear expression on her face.

"As if you would have stopped at the romantic part!" The redhead basically growled out in anger. The younger sister seemed to take it as a direct attack. "I would have!" She countered back with the same amount of passion in her voice as Natasha. "No you wouldn't and I know that for sure because you came along on so many of our date nights." You put a hand on Natasha's arm to calm her, you knew how deeply it affected her whenever her sister came to your dates. All Natasha wanted was to be the hopeless romantic she knew she could be but without getting teased for it and with Yelena in tow it was simply not possible.

Before it got out of hand you decided to speak up. "Yel, it's Valentine's day.. and we really need some time just for the two of us." The younger sibling looked at Natasha intensly. "My god." She groaned and sighed in annoyance. "If you're really that desperate then okay I'll be gone in an hour."

"You better be." Nat's voice was so cold that if you wouldn't drag her away something awful would happen. You took her hand in yours and dragged her outside. Once you were near the water, you sat down on a stump. It seemed like the tree that was once there got chopped off a while ago. "Don't let her get to you. She'll be gone within the hour and we'll be all alone and have a lot of me & you time." A small smile tugged at her lips when you pulled her towards you, hinting that you want her to sit on you. She willingly placed herself on your lap, exhaled loudly as she leaned against your front with her back, your arms wrapped around her waist.

This was heaven for her, being held by you  and hearing you hum soft melodies. "You know, if I knew you'd drag me out of bed early in the morning on Valentine's day then I'd have gone to a flower shop the day before to get you the most beautiful bouquet." She turned her head towards you. "I told you before that I don't need a physical gift for today. Being with you is all I want." She laid her warm hands on your arm, squeezed it gently before simply just holding onto it.

"Do you even realize how much my heart always melts whenever you say stuff like that and with that look in your eyes?" 

"Well now that I know I won't ever stop doing it." She teased you. 

"That is cruel my love." You joked back. 

"Being loved by me is cruel now? Weren't you the one who told me not to stay around toxic people?" Tilting her head to the side she gave you a pointed look. 

"You have way more green flags than red flags so I guess I'm good." You smiled happily at her. "And don't you even start with you being an ex-assassin is the biggest red flag of all time because you my dear black widow redeemed yourself a thousand of times."

"I don't know what to say." 

"Say you love me."

"I love you."

"And I.. love you more." You hugged her tighter. "You know.. I've been here for a hot minute and I can already see how we grow old and settle down in this humble abode."

"Hmm, that sounds amazing. Are we married in your vision?" She bit her lip. You shook your head. "No. I don't have anything against marrying you though." Nat raised an eyebrow. "So you'd want to be married to me?" She asked warily. 

"Oh c'mon Nat, you're an amazing woman. You have skillsets like no other, you're  very intelligent and funny, you're humble and a big soft heart and let's not forget you're beautiful like a goddess. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a wife." 

She turned away from you as she started to blush deeply. "Stop it or I slap you." She threatened as you nuzzled your nose back into her neck and though you couldn't see the redness in her face, you could feel the warmth radiating from her.

"I don't mind being slapped by you. Maybe you'd even do that thigh move of yours to stop be completely huh?" 

"I want you to be alive."

"I trust you to not crush me. Though I wouldn't min-" She cut you off. "Get those sick thoughts out of your head Y/N. I liked you better with a rather innocent mind."

"You definitely won't get that wife title if you stop me from trying to communicate my needs with you." You loosened your grip on her to poke a finger into her side. She turned her head towards you and mumble an 'I hate you' before she leaned in to kiss you. "If I hate you is the new I love you then okay I hate you too babe." You both continued sitting there in comfortable silence. 

A gust of wind blew from time to time, tossing Nat's kinda shortish hair right in your face but you didn't mind that, the birds chirped and the ducks that were on the lake quacked. The soft rustling of trees intruded your ears as if it was a soundtrack playing in the background of a movie. And then there was suddenly the noise of a bike starting and driving off. You guessed that it was Yelena leaving. But before you two got up you to go back inside, you watched some cute little ducks walking on the shore a few feet from you.

The rest of the day contained a lot of giggling, chasing each other around the house and making out. Towards the evening you had a very romantic candle light dinner that you both helped to get it done. To top it all off you two had a very intimate night with the promise of repeating everything at one point in the future.

[lifesizehysteria]

Counting Freckles | A Violet Bridgerton Fic

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: M Pairing: Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader Summary: No plot, just freckles and sex. An ode to Violet Bridgerton's freckles. Notes: First attempt at this POV. We can all thank @cptn-nash and @sleepyfireball for convincing me to give it a try. Also another thank you to @shmaptainwrites for permission to steal her formatting style because I fell in love with her visuals. 💜 AO3

When Violet Bridgerton took up residence in the estate next to yours, her two youngest children in tow, you had no idea what to expect, but you had been hopeful, at least, for a friendly neighbor with whom you shared some commonalities. It wasn’t often one came across another young dowager widow, after all. She was reserved but friendly, waving whenever she passed by, and her children were well-mannered, if rather lively. You had no idea that a chance meeting out in the garden on a particularly sunny spring day, when you invited her in for some lemonade, would forever change the course of your life, and your heart. 

What began as an easy friendship quickly turned into a passionate affair that took you both by surprise, but your mutual attraction was undeniable and refused to be ignored. At first you were quite discreet. Careful to never be caught, always locking doors, never spending the night, stifling moans with hands and pillows and mouths so as not to be overheard. Eventually, though, once Violet’s youngest children flew the nest and you found yourselves alone aside from the servants, both of your patience for playing pretend wore thin. Your houses were modest, minimally staffed, and rarely frequented by any of your adult children. There was little risk by then, and what risk remained was worth the comfort of waking up every morning with the one you loved. Who was really paying attention to a couple of old widows, anyway?

You woke to the misty blue light of a cloudy early morning, and the sound of rain pattering against the window. Turning onto your side, you could see Violet asleep on her stomach, her long hair sprawled, wild across her pillow and over her neck. Its rich brown was streaked with silver like veins of sparkling moonlight. She would have hated you for thinking it, but you would swear there was more gray in it every day, which you did not mind because it just added to her beauty. Smiling, you brushed it away from her back, twisting a lock between your fingers as you did so, revealing the freckles smattering the skin across her shoulders. You had them memorized by now, the way they were sprinkled down her back, over her chest and arms and face, like stars scattered across the night sky. You would never understand how anyone thought them an imperfection.

Her breathing was still deep and steady, so you ran your finger featherlight along a trail of them next to her spine. When you reached the neckline of her nightdress, unable to follow them down below, you dragged your finger back up, connecting freckles like constellations. She began to stir, her shoulder twitching as your fingernail traced along its top. Sleep continued to hold her, so you began to follow your finger with your lips, placing slow, delicate kisses along as much bare skin as you could find.

The warmth of your breath washed over Violet until it made her shiver. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, but her body was rousing quickly, each kiss from your lips drawing more tension into her muscles. A sleepy moan rumbled in her throat while she aimlessly sought out something, any part of you to touch. After several unsuccessful pats that landed on the blanket bundled between you, she found your waist. Gripping it, she used your body to help roll onto her back so you hovered over her, taking away all of those delicious freckles as she did so.

Her face was relaxed, her blue eyes half closed as she gazed up at you through her lashes. The flush in her cheeks matched the pink of her pouting lips, the sight of her irresistible. You brought your hand to her face, sweeping hair away from her forehead to reveal more freckles there. You traced your fingertips down her temple toward her cheek, and she turned her face into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. You bit your lower lip as you smiled down at her, marveling at how, after so many mornings together, she could still take your breath away. 

Violet inhaled deeply, arching her back to stretch the sleep from her spine, drawing your eye to the white cotton of her nightdress pulling tight across her chest. A current of arousal spread its way through your body and you had to swallow the pool that had formed in your mouth. 

“You are awake early, my love,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. 

You nodded your head, unable to clear the fogginess that had begun to settle. “I think it was the rain that woke me.”

Her eyebrows lifted, her face perking up. “Is it raining?” she asked, tilting her head to listen. Once it registered, she closed her eyes for a moment to take in the sound. “Do you not just love the sound of rain?” The serene smile that pulled across her mouth was too much for you to resist any longer. 

“Among other things…” you muttered with a devilish smirk before dipping your head to kiss her.

She gasped against your mouth, her grip on your waist tightening. After her surprise waned, her lips fell into your rhythm—slow, almost leisurely. This was not a morning for frenzied passion, but for tender lovemaking. You had awoken beside an angel and you intended to take her to heaven. 

A hazy desire built around you, swirling in both your bellies, your hearts beating gently like the rain against glass. You traipsed your fingers down her neck and around to cradle her head. Burying them in her hair, you encouraged her head to tip back, exposing her neck so you could drag your lips down its length. You dipped your tongue into the hollow at the base, the wet heat making Violet’s breath hitch as she pulled you closer.

You nipped at her collarbone before devouring your way down her chest, delighted to have found more of your favorite freckles. Violet let out a lilting laugh when you grunted upon reaching the fabric of her nightdress, only to start tugging at it unsuccessfully with your free hand. 

“Let me,” she said, maneuvering herself so she could help. Mischief shone in her eyes as she locked your gaze in hers, enjoying the frustration on your face as she slipped the sleeves off of her shoulders, then slowly slid her arms out through the wide neckline. 

You did not realize your mouth hung open, staring while she pushed both the dress and blanket down below her breasts to her navel, until her warm fingers brushed along your jawline. “You stare as though you have not seen them hundreds of times before,” she laughed again. 

“I stare because they are perfect. The eighth wonder of the world.”

“You mock me,” she playfully accused, running her thumb along the edge of your lower lip. Of course, she knew better, but how she loved when you worshiped her. 

“I have never meant anything more,” you promised in a throaty whisper. You pulled the tip of her thumb into your mouth, sucking gently. At the same time, your free hand slid up and over her belly and ribs to cup one of her breasts. The weight of it was blissfully familiar, the freckle-dusted flesh spilling over your hand slightly while her nipple tightened against your palm. You took it between your fingers, rolling and pinching until her eyebrows drew together, her lip clenched between her teeth. The two sensations at the same time threatened to overcome her. Desire seared through her body, making her whimper when the muscles between her legs tightened against the ever persistent pulse beating there. 

With a kiss, you released her thumb, which left a cool wet trail along your chin and neck as she dragged her fingers down to the base of your throat, fingernails lightly scraping your skin. Kissing her lips once more, you then marked a path with kisses, growing more open-mouthed, down her neck, over the freckles on her chest, and down the pillowy, stretch-lined flesh of her other breast. You let your breath rush over her nipple before taking it into your mouth, sucking and nipping, rolling your tongue over it in unison with your fingers on the other. Her hand pushed around to the back of your neck, her fingers plunging into your loosely braided hair and urging you closer.

It wasn’t long before Violet began to squirm. She pressed one hand against the headboard, arching her back and driving her hips down into the mattress. You knew her and her body fluently, and while you could have stayed right there forever, you recognized the quiet desperation for more. With one more tender kiss, you sat up on your knees, slipping her nightdress down the rest of her body, slowly revealing her deliciously soft belly. Your hands skimmed down her sides and over the flare of her hips, the fabric bunching around them until she lifted them away from the mattress. You shimmied the garment further down, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs as you tugged it off. For a moment, you sat admiring her. It didn’t matter how many times you saw her body in the flesh, nor the number of ways time had managed to carve itself into new details. Every time, you found yourself in awe. Your fingers brushed along her stomach. There were freckles here, too. Dark against the palest parts of her, they were larger and spread apart, but just as beautiful. You touched them as you went—beneath her breast, near her navel, atop her hip. You bit your lip as you admired them.  

“If you are going to continue to stare, you could at least afford me the same view.” She tugged at your nightdress. “Remove this. I want to see you.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Yes, my love.” You did as you were told, gathering the skirt in your hands and pulling it off over your head, tossing it to the floor beside hers. “Better?” you asked, sitting back, allowing her the view she so desired. Her eyes swept over your body, the intensity of the lust in her eyes making your breath catch.

“Perfect.” Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she slid her hand up the length of your arm and to your neck. She urged you closer, kissing you deeply, pouring her love directly into you. 

Her hand wandered, finding all the most sensitive spots she knew would drive you mad. She ghosted a finger along the edge of your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Her fingernails grazed over your pulse point, then continued down over your chest. She brushed her thumb over your nipple, teasing it as it hardened until you moaned into her mouth. The sound made her laugh against your lips; how easily she could turn you into a whimpering puddle. Satisfied, her hand continued down and around to the small of your back, pressing your hips down as she laid back, pulling you along with her, your kiss unbroken. 

You drank in every taste of her, every breath, because there would never be enough to fill your desire for her. She delighted in the familiar weight of your body, and the warmth of your skin against hers as she got lost in your embrace. She was gasping between kisses, little whimpers catching in her throat at every touch. You reached down to the outside of her thigh, your fingers pressing firmly into her petal-soft skin as you bent her knee so it was up against your hip. When Violet felt you against the apex of her legs, a wave of pulsing heat burned through her body. She thrusted her hips forward, trying to make more contact, but it wasn’t enough.

“Touch me,” she panted, your lips just a breath apart. 

Desire pooled in the pit of your stomach. There was nothing else you wanted to do more. You shifted so that you were draped over only half of her, hooking your leg over hers and drawing it towards you so she was open for you. She watched, her eyes darkening as you slid two of your fingers into your mouth, thoroughly wetting them in order to assist with the inconsistency she had experienced in the year since her courses had stopped. When you pressed them down into her folds and found her already slicker than usual, a wicked grin curled your lips. 

“Oh my,” you muttered against her ear, making her skin tingle. “Someone is certainly ready this morning.”

Your name slipped from her lips, her voice shaking, “Please.”

“Is there enough?” you asked. 

“Yes.” She blinked quickly, then added, “I think so.” 

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.” She was breathless with want. 

You kissed her parted lips, then whispered against them, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

She was nodding when you pulled back so you could see her face. You entered her gently, as you always did now, watching for any sign of discomfort. There was no resistance, and Violet let out a shuddering sigh, eyes closing as her head pushed back into the pillow. 

You worked her slowly, paying careful attention to everything—her face, the sounds she made, the ease with which your fingers moved inside her—diligent in ensuring every moment was one of pleasure. When you thought perhaps there was more friction than there should have been, you removed your fingers, causing Violet to whine in displeasure.

“It is only for a moment, sweetheart,” you assured her. She watched with bated breath as you took your fingers back into your mouth. The taste of her musky sweetness caused a tightening in your own core and your mouth to water, which aided in your effort. A quiet moan escaped as she watched you lick your lips. A louder moan followed when you pressed your fingers into her again. Her eyes rolled closed as you returned to your former pace, confident now that you would not hurt her. She clung to you, her fingers gripping your shoulders and your back, nails digging into your scalp, anywhere she could hold because you were the only thing anchoring her to Earth.

Sensing she was close but not quite able to make it over that edge, you pressed the heel of your hand against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a primal sound from deep in her chest while she rocked down to get more pressure. As her hips moved against your hand, you followed her pace, watching the tension build in her body until she could no longer hold on, finally crashing over the crest, straight into heaven.

You let her come down slowly, remaining inside her while her inner muscles grew still and her body relaxed into the mattress. The freckles on her chest and face now laid on a bed of pink and you couldn’t help but kiss a few of them. Violet’s eyes fluttered open and she placed her hand beneath your chin, drawing your face up to hers and kissing you with a satiated hum. 

“Come here,” she urged, touching your leg that was still wrapped around hers. You withdrew from inside her, taking her offered hand so you could reposition yourself over her, straddling her hips. You fingers laced with hers while you leaned on your other arm, hovering over her face. Violet captured your lips again, at the same time as her hand burned its way down the length of your body. She knew you well enough to know you would be so primed that delaying any longer would be torturous. But while you had taken her to heaven, she had decided to dance with the devil because instead of touching you where you so desperately needed, she grazed the backs of her fingernails from your navel to the edge of your curls. She continued, reaching between your bodies to take hold of the supple flesh of your inner thigh. It was one of her most favorite spots. She raked her fingers up, closer and closer while your muscles twitched beneath her fingers, and you sucked in a sharp breath between your teeth. 

“Violet,” you growled, dropping your head down to her shoulder when she cradled her hand against you, just close enough for you to sense it there, but not enough to feel it. 

“Oh, very well,” she chuckled, as if she were not holding your very sanity in her hand. She pressed her hand to your soaking curls, making you arch harder against her. Pulling three fingers through your dripping heat, she drew it up with her fingertips as they found the place that you ached for her to touch most. She moved her fingers in slow circles, each pass making your body jolt, forcing a shuddering sigh from your throat that spilled onto her shoulder over and over. 

She kissed the top of your shoulder, her lips and tongue mapping their way to your neck. Your body began to shake, your grip on her hand tightening. She quickened the pace of her circling, adding pressure until your body curled around her, caught in a vise of pleasure that radiated out to every nerve in your body. 

You collapsed down onto her, your breathing labored, your mind blank. She dislodged her arm from between you and wrapped it around your back, bringing your clasped hands to her lips to press kisses along the tops of your entwined fingers. 

Both of you were already spent and the sun had not even finished rising, so instead of facing the day and preparing yourselves for breakfast, you burrowed back underneath the blankets. Wrapped in each other's arms, you spent the morning counting freckles and tracing smile lines, laughing and dozing, surrounded by love and the gentle sound of rain. 

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 269 (spoilers)

(TCB still doesn't have their own translation but some parts of this need to be cross checked with more translations. I'll do that tomorrow.)

We start the chapter with an ominous flashback that brings Mei Mei to an old woman before we make a hard cut back to where we left off last chapter

To my pleased surprise Yuta managed to get his body back though truth be told I did NOT understand the minute details on how that happened. Need to read up on that.

Megumi still feels the aftereffects of Gojo's UV that had crippled Sukuna's DE. This could mean Megumi himself will have trouble expanding his domain but would that be a short term problem or possibly even a long term problem 👀

(Way back when, I had also made a speculative post that Gojo's UV that hit Megumi's soul might've left Megumi with Gojo's ultimate knowledge from all his life but that doesn't seem to be a thing in the end.)

The first years are told not to feel guilty about anything and to be teenagers again. This echoes what Gojo said in the beginning on how children should be able to enjoy the spring of their youth.

We learn then how Yuta survived: because of Rika who independently kept his body alive. When Kenjaku's CT burned out after Yuta used Gojo's DE, he should've died because he couldn't keep the connection to Gojo's body.

Kenjaku shouldve had the same problems but they speculate that he circumvented that with barrier techniques.

Now comes the part where I need better translations because what's said here is too confusing: which CT recovered and was Yuta now dead or unconscious when Kenjaku's CT burned out?

The next question is: how did his consciousness end up back in his body? All this time I thought Kenjaku transferred his entire brain from body to body but that's not the case apparently? 😄

Also, the biggest question right now: what happened to Gojo's body?

I made a speculative post on how this body hopping through Kenjaku's CT might actually end up reviving Gojo.

The main point for that theory is that Kenjaku revives the bodies he transfers into. Second and third points are that the revival is a one time thing and isn't bound to the continuous use of the CT (speculation) and that Yuta "dies" through the end of the CT and through other means

Say what you will but this about Miguel and Larue was extremely funny but also give Larue some respect, Sukuna was in love with him for a few seconds.

The part where everyone discusses their battle strategies is interesting. Gege does sth here I have done while writing fanfics as well: acknowledging how varied and complicated the choices in the plot where and have the characters discuss it.

This gives the chain of events that did end up happening in the end a grounded feel and here it also gives the characters room to interact with each other.

My complaint about these scenes are that they downplay Sukuna's threat and power

Talking about what they should've done differently and how they could've won more easily is ok, but for me this entire conversation was too couched in "we won because of course we did, this was easy but it could've been easier"

Higuruma is alive though but I had that on my bingo card already, his apparent death was pretty vague

It's a funny reveal how the watch room was Rika this entire time, and apparently Yuta/Maki is basically canon

We also learn that it was indeed Miwa who clung to Maki and used Simple Domain against Sukuna to stop his MS. Todo managed to get her and Maki out with his CT at the end.

Without Ui Ui the battle would've been lost, so he really is the MVP

Now comes the part about the New Shadow Style: Simple Domain that was interesting but also added unneeded elements into the story this late in the manga

Some parts of this was mentioned previously like how you made a Binding Vow to learn NSS. There was a woman in a wheelchair once that resembled Miwa in parts who was probably one of those people who's lifespan was sapped away by the Shadow Head.

But did we really need to give this so much panel time? I guess with the mention of Tengen (who was apparently the one who told the good guys who the Shadow Head was) we'll go back to what happened to her and the merger in the next chapter.

What we also got was commentary on how JJ society hindered itself from becoming better because of the greed of people who wanted more power.

Mei Mei speaks of sorcerers who could've survived with Simple Domain and she probably means Nanami. Their stories in Shibuya acted like foils to each other (without that or them being in conflict with each though) so it's relevant to Nanami what she said here.

Overall I think some parts of this chapter should've been cut so close to the finish, especially when this really is the end of the manga. I still have hope for Part 2 though, this chapter was (as I expected) ambiguous about that happening or not.

[seuonji]

night shift ★彡 xu minghao

xu minghao x yn ln

彡when yn’s juniors finds trouble with some fellow college mates, yn goes through mountains just to get them justice, even if it means needing to infiltrate and make friends with the most intimidating clique on campus.

masterlist

#12 an easy man! | #13 kuromi pic! | #14 white tee!

notes: there’s a writing part under the cut! (0.5k words)

minghao walked into the back. taking off his apron, he smiled at you. you had already gotten up and folded the blanket to which he stuffed into the bag he carried.

“ready to go?” he asked as he looked up to you. you stiffly stood by him, hands holding the strap of your bag awkwardly and you just nodded.

you closed up the store and went your way out.

you lead the way to the bus stop you usually go to as minghao treaded right beside you.

“crazy i didn’t see you yesterday,” you randomly brought up.

minghao slowly turned to you and squinted his eyes, “we did but like just for a few seconds.”

you immediately made an ‘o’ with your mouth as you recalled.

the bus arrived and you two got on, sitting by each other, your shoulders touched but non of you moved. perhaps you were too tired to?

“you were gonna go out with mingyu today?” he tilted his head. “ah well it wasn’t a set in stone plan, i didn’t even know if i’d wake up the next day,” you laughed. “and you didn’t,” he giggled and sighed. it’s true, you slept for most of the day.

“but that was the first time you hung out with mingyu right? you two seem so close.”

“i think i just adapt well,” you reasoned. notably, you had to adapt well because of how good it would’ve been for the mission.

“understandable. if i didn’t know how friendly you were i would’ve just guessed that you fell for mingyu and that’s what brought you to say yes to going out with him.”

“well isn’t mingyu that guy all of the people in school fall for?” you turned your body to face minghao, showing interest in the conversation.

“oh, are you one of those people yn?” minghao tapped on his chin to provoke you.

your eyes locked into minghao’s out of shock. you coughed out a chuckle and retracted your eyes to the floor. “no,” you sighed out and grinned. “not at all. my heart belongs to someone else,” you softly let out.

as minghao got silent, you swiftly turned your eyes to him but all you saw was a warm smile on his face.

“am i going to unlock the yn secret and find out who it is today?” he poked in more fun.

you sneered and rested your head on your hand, “don’t need to unlock it today when you’ve already guessed it before.”

shit, why are you the one revealing secrets to him? shouldn’t it be the other way around? that’s what you thought as you kept speaking. but minghao’s response cleared your cloudy head.

“well i hope that goes well for you. i’m sure it will.”

there it was again. the tinge of sweetness from minghao that somehow made your heart melt.

it was nice to have someone like this around but also, it wasn’t. he was gravely making you forget why you’re here in the first place.

and the lingering texture of he blanket on your skin made it all the more forgettable.

funfact: the manager wasn’t at work today which is why yn decided to nap straight away. yn thought falling asleep during work was going to be the end of their career however waking up to having a blanket over their shoulders made them realise, they’re glad to have met minghao and have him as a coworker.

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[ruh--roh-raggy]

Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Part 3

Hello hello! Welcome to part 3 of Home Sweet Home! Today we get a very special flashback into Reader and William's past. This one is tooth rottingly sweet so I hope you're prepared hehe. As always thank all of you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!!

WARNINGS: Reader gets grabbed by the wrist by the guy who she was supposed to go on a date with, some swearing, other than that just the fluffiest of fluff

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word count: 2,673

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I'm going to go grab some more things from the other room!” William exclaims over the pounding music. He had said he thought of a way to make unpacking more fun, but you never expected this. William had this old stereo system that since you had gotten together lived in a corner in his garage. You would always fuss over it, trying to get him to take it out. “The mice have probably chewed a bunch of the wires in it, it would be more of a hassle to fix than it’s worth.” He'd explain. “I'll probably just buy a new one if we ever decide we need it, bunny.” So, when he pushed a large blanket covered object into your room you were definitely a little confused. You shot him a curious look when he revealed that it was the sound system you had been begging him to pull out for ages. “She's good as new, ready for my pretty girl to listen to music whenever she wants!” He says proudly, patting the top. The system worked like a dream, even though it was a bit outdated. You flipped through records before finally deciding on what you wanted to listen to, your husband chuckling as the music blared and you began to dance around the room. The little distracting from your mundane activity helped you work a little faster, and before you knew it your bedroom was mostly finished. William re entered the room with the final few boxes that needed to be put away, setting them in the corner as he watched you twirled around the floor. He loved how his heart still raced whenever he looked at you, the steady thrumming in his chest bringing a smile to his face. He strides forward with the same shaky confidence he had when you first had gotten together. You paused as you noticed him approach, looking at him with those same bright eyes that always managed to make his breath catch in his throat. He gives you a slight bow, the soft static of the record trying to fill in the silence between songs. He holds out his hand to you, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you smile.

“Would you like to dance bunny?” The pure adoration that dripped from his voice threatened to make you tear up, and for just a moment a slightly younger version of you had flashed before his eyes. You had looked so pretty the first time he had asked you to dance with him, but he couldn't argue that the sight before him was even more beautiful. Your hair a complete mess from working all day, your baggy cleaning clothes seemed to hang perfectly off of your frame. He never stopped loving a single thing about you. But, your first dance together would always hold a special place in both your hearts.

“He’s taking me out dancing.” You squeal along with your co-worker, talking about the date you had planned later.

“Dancing, huh?” You jump slightly as a voice suddenly chimes in behind you. You noticed your coworker straighten up as her eyes landed on the man behind you. You turned to find Mr. Afton, a smirk on his lips, you could feel the anger swimming in his eyes. “Didn’t know guys your age still did that sort of thing.” As soon as it was there it was gone, his eyes softening as his smirk turned into his usual charming, lopsided smile. You felt your heartbeat quicken at the sight of it.

“Well, I told him I always wanted someone to take me dancing.” You admit bashfully, feeling a bit silly for admitting such a childish, romantic fantasy.

“A beautiful young woman like yourself deserves someone who takes them out.” He responds as his gaze flickers over your face. “Although, I wouldn’t get your hopes up, he might not be the right man for the job.” He adds with a slight tilt of his head, his eyes flash away from you before he clears his throat. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go, uh… elsewhere.” He nods politely before hurrying off. You exchange a look with your coworker.

“What in the Faz-Fuck was that all about?” You both break out into a fit of giggles at the “workplace appropriate” swear word before you just shrugged.

You stood outside of Freddy’s, you and your date agreeing to meet there because you didn’t want to give him your address. You watched car after car pass by but none of them ever turned into the lot. You checked your watch, it was about an hour after the time he was supposed to pick you up. You wrapped your jacket tighter around you, your teeth beginning to chatter as you waited in the night. You jumped as the door next to you suddenly pushed open. William stepped outside with his keys in hand, a tight black sweatshirt over his work shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. He glanced over at you, briefly turning back to the lock before his brow furrowed in confusion and his eyes snapped back to you. “You’re still here?” He straightens up, taking a few steps closer to you. Your eyes slowly trailed upwards in order to meet his as he walked forward. “I saw your car pull in an hour ago, is everything alright?”

“He was supposed to meet me here. I,uh, I think he might’ve stood me up.” Your throat grew tight as shame washed over your body. You couldn’t have felt more pathetic if you tried. A young eager girl with hearts in her eyes as she excitedly talked about her date all day just to get stood up.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your skin buzzed where his hand rested on your shoulder. “If he stood you up he’s a Faz-Fucking idiot.” He manages to get a small laugh out of you, making him smile softly. Before you had a chance to respond, a beat up car that’s front bumper was held on by duct tape came screeching to a halt in front of the restaurant. Your date's head pops out of the window.

“Get in.” He commands before disappearing back inside the car. You noticed William bite at the inside of his cheek.

“Bit rude to not open the door for her, isn't it, chief?” William calls in an antagonizing tone. You could tell how he tensed up before his hand fell away from your shoulder that he intended to teach this guy a lesson. The driver's side door flew open as your date climbed out.

“You got a problem, old man?” William cocks an eyebrow at his insult.

“I may be old you little punk,” he spits, “but I know that’s absolutely no way to treat a woman.” His voice was dangerously calm, not a single waiver of emotion in his tone.

“Oh be fucking forreal,” he rolls his eyes, “you’re just pissed that you can’t flirt with someone half your age, pervert.” He barged forward, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you in the direction of his car. Your eyes dart to William, the only thing that would make you feel safe in your moment of fear. You caught the sight of a snarl forming on his face.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” William growls, rushing up on him. He immediately dropped your wrist, stumbling backwards and falling straight onto his ass. William steps in front of you, half blocking your body with his towering form. “You were an hour late to pick her up, you’ve been acting like a jackass since you pulled up, and on top of that you’re grabbing her like she’s some piece of meat.” His voice boomed across the empty lot. His fists shook by his side, his shoulders heaving with his heavy breaths as he filled with rage. William points at the guy's car. “You better get the fuck off of this property, and if I ever see you around here again or see you anywhere near her, I will personally introduce that moronic face of yours to the fucking concrete. Do I make myself clear?” He scrambled for his car, peeling out of the lot before his door was even fully closed. The moment his car was out of sight his attention immediately shifted to you, ready to swoop in and save the day when you needed him most. “Are you okay? How’s your wrist?”

“William, I’m so sorry.” Your voice shook as you fought back the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“Oh, rabbit,” he coos at you, taking your hands in his, “you don’t have anything to apologize for. That guy was a jackass.” He places a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “He doesn’t deserve someone like you.” He brushes some stray hair from your cheek, his soft smile making your heart flutter. His thumb rubs languidly over your knuckles, “come inside for a bit, you’re frozen.” He opens up the door for you, motioning for you to head in before him. “Unlike that scumbag I plan on holding the door.” He winks at you, causing you to flush slightly. You reluctantly let your hand slip from his as you stepped inside, his calloused fingers warm against your much smaller, more delicate ones. He took your coat, hanging it up on the side of a booth you slid into. “I’m going to go make some coffee, even if you don’t drink it just hold it. Your hands are like ice.” You nod, watching as he disappears into the kitchen. You trace along the cracks in the old linoleum table, mentally berating yourself over how stupid you were. “Here you go, sweetheart.” You can’t help but smile when you’re met with the sight of his lopsided grin.

“Thank you.” You respond softly. He studies you, trying to gauge what you need from him at the moment. “I’m really embarrassed.” You admit with a dry chuckle. “Here I am getting myself all worked up for this date…” your voice cracks as the need to cry wells up in your throat. You try your best to clear it, not wanting to appear as weak as you felt in front of him. “It was stupid anyways.” You shrug, trying your best to force a smile despite the fact you felt a tear slowly rolling down your cheek.

“Honey, it’s not stupid for you to want someone to treat you the way you deserve.” He reaches out, cupping your cheek and wiping at the wet trail. He stood, holding out his hand to you, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “If it’s alright with you I’d like to give you that dance you were looking forward to.” You reached out for him, your fingers shaking with anticipation. He guided you gently from the booth, a stark contrast from how roughly you were grabbed before. He motioned for you to wait a moment, heading next to the stage to kick a jukebox to life. Instead of the usual stage show songs you were used to he had flipped to something a bit slower, more romantic. He spins you around before his arm slides around your waist, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he gazes down at you.

“Is this a bad time to admit I’ve never really danced before?” You ask with a nervous giggle. William breathes out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I’ll go slow, just let my body lead yours.” You flush as you feel the heat radiating off of his strong chest as he pulls you in closer. It felt effortless as he moved you across the floor, your steps quickly being able to fall into time with his. Before you knew it he was waltzing you around the open space. He spun you around a few times before expertly pulling you back into his embrace. Your heart raced, you could feel it all the way in the tips of your fingers. His striking silver eyes remained locked on yours as he moved you in a way he knew that little douchebag never would have been able to pull off, it made him well up with a sense of pride. Before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life, and she was captivated by him and him alone. The smile that spread across your face as he dipped you low with the conclusion of the song was enough to have a shiver run up his spine. “For someone who’s never danced before you did amazing.” He winks.

“I think it’s because I had such a good partner.” You mumble shyly, heat rising in your cheeks as you feel his thumb run across your waist. His eyes flash down to your lips, swallowing thickly before letting his gaze slowly trace up to meet yours again. “William, I, um…” you trail off as anxiety creeps forward in your mind. He was just being nice to you, that’s all this was.

“What is it, rabbit?” His voice comes out low and gravelly, words dripping with need like honey off of his tongue.

“That was really nice.” Your eyes dropped to the floor as you tried to push the thought of how badly you wanted to feel his lips on yours. “This is definitely better than the night I would've been having with that asshole.”

“I know I keep saying this but he doesn't deserve someone like you.” He brushes some hair from your face before holding both of your hands in his. “He wouldn't notice how your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about or how adorable you look when you're flustered. He doesn’t know what your favorite color is or your favorite pizza toppings or your favorite movie.” Your eyes widened slightly as you realized that he was listing off things he had proven he knew about you in the past. “You are beautiful and so unbelievably kind and if I wasn’t such a damn coward I would’ve done this sooner.” His hand drops yours, moving to cup your face as he presses into you. A broken whimper escapes your lips as your hands fist into the soft material of his sweatshirt. The hand that still rested on your hip slid around your waist as he pressed you flush against him, lifting you up onto the tips of your toes to make it easier to kiss you. You gasped as he pulled back from you, both of you staring at one another wide eyed and breathless.

“Can I take you out on a date sometime?” The question fell from his mouth hurriedly, as if he was afraid if he didn’t ask it then he would never be able to say it.

“Yes.” Your answer was immediate, giving him a firm nod. Your face felt hot and damp, the remnant of the tears you hadn’t realized you let flow freely stained your cheeks. William breathes out a relieved and almost triumphant chuckle before he pulls you back into him, your mind getting lost in the taste of the bitter coffee and his own undeniable sweetness as it dances across your tongue.

William smiles at the sight before him, he would never get tired of the way his beautiful wife looked at him so lovingly. Your hand slipped into his, allowing him to spin you around the floor, your laughter blending melodically with the music. He pulls you into his arms, mimicking the steps he first taught you all those years ago. You had become a lot better over time, William loved to dance with you rather frequently. Your once clumsy movements now seemed as natural to you as walking. You laughed loudly as he dropped you into a low dip, your vision fully getting flipped upside down. You caught the sight of a red pick up truck pulling up your driveway. William pulls you upright. “Looks like we got some company.” He says with a wink.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast (If I miss you or you would like to me added please let me know!)

[clare-with-no-i]

theogony part 1 behind the scenes

**SPOILERS ahead for theogony and mild spoilers for Outlander!**

this is just going to be a long infodump of all of the things I pondered while writing theog (specifically part 1, part 2 will come later) but never talked about! I'll try to go chapter by chapter, and maybe I'll end up adding more later on, but for now I just think it'd be fun to chitchat and reminisce on some of my favorite tidbits. this story is really my baby idk :")

Prologue - Alalá

one thing that I wanted to establish in the prologue, other than the obvious James-Sirius dynamic, is the presence of otherworldly or spiritual premonitions in this universe. it was always important to me that the first person who actually made any sort of prophetic declaration was James.

so much of the story relies on Lily's status as an oracle, but this little tidbit here helped build the world for me so much; we can't be sure if James's various dreams and premonitions are wishful thinking, or really the Gods speaking to him, or something else entirely. of course, this story deals with time travel, so there's an inherent supernatural element. but Lily and James's conflicting – and sometimes competing – conceptions of God felt like such a necessary tension for me to explore. it was such an incredible shorthand for the tension between modern and ancient sensibilities. and we never get a definitive answer to those looming questions, which I knew I wanted to do from the outset. did the Gods bring Lily back to the past? did James? did she do it herself? does God/the Gods even exist?

also: there are probably moments where I failed to do this, but I tried to capitalize Gods in all of the James chapters but not in Lily's, unless she was referring to the Abrahamic Capital G God. that is, until the last chapter, which I'll elaborate upon later :)

also: i wrote the prologue first, then the epilogue, and then i posted the prologue pretty immediately after. I had the entire story roughly outlined but I absolutely jumped the gun when it came to posting the prologue LMAO I didn't even really announce the story, I just joked about writing it and then posted the prologue, which you can see from the beginning note. i remember Suze was about to go to sleep and she started messaging me like wtf Clare what do you MEAN?

and the rest was history (pun completely intended)!

Chapter One: Ouroboros

the narrative brushes past the other statues in this section pretty quickly, but I always imagined that the first bust is Philoctetes, James's father. I think the consensus on this one tends to oscillate between Philoctetes and Aristides, which is another great interpretation.

The reason I wrote it this way and imagined it to be Philoctetes is because I thought it would have been nice to let Lily 'meet' James's father (in a sense), even before she 'meets' him. when I read this chapter back after I first finished the story, I had a very soft moment where I close-read my own fic (lol) and thought that maybe it was Philoctetes who sent Lily back to the past. maybe he sensed something about her and knew she'd be right for James and for antiquity.

sooo many people forgot about this! which i was hoping for!!!!! I was hoping everyone would forget about James's statue holding something until the Big Reveal. fun fact is I wrote the reveal right after this. I liked the idea that, no, he was never going to actually be holding anything. he'd be reaching for Lily. the choice to accept his hand was always going to be hers.

a fun fact about this chapter is that I had to pull from a bit more Outlander lore than I originally thought. and no I don't mean the 'Jesus H Roosevelt Christ' part lol. It was always hilarious to me how Outlander set up Claire to be the objectively perfect person to go back in time. she was a combat nurse who happened to develop an interest in medicinal botany and Scottish-English history. she also happened to spend her formative years with her adventurous archaeologist uncle after her only living relatives died. like girl. lol.

so I had to really toss up which traits I thought it would be appropriate for Lily to have as she traveled back in time. the biggest one, obviously, is her field of study, which was necessary given the language barrier and the completely foreign nature of social norms in Classical Athens. I toyed around with the idea of making her mum a nurse so as to give her some base medical knowledge, but that felt a) unnecessary given the circumstances of the story, and b) far-fetched that she would have gleaned enough transferable skills to apply in 479 BCE.

it was also fun to give her more reason to go back to the future; she has a sister who, while they aren't in contact, is a significant emotional attachment; she has academic goals; she has a best friend (however toxic we know him to be). it added a layer of conflict that I enjoyed playing up, even if I definitely could have explored her modern life more fully.

Chapter Two: Kinesis

soooo much exposition and worldbuilding in this chapter. oml. it was so much fun to play around with the reasons why James would be in Tatoi in the first place; I can't remember quite how I landed on the Persian auxiliary soldier thing, it might have been from my initial (admittedly extensive) research on the months leading up to Plataea; it may have just been the fact that I KID YOU NOT this story used to take up all of my fucking brainspace. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd be doing work for my research fellowship and just daydream about theogony. the initial idea came to me AS A JOKE!!!!! when i was idly pondering before going to sleep (as one does), and then it just wouldn't leave me alone. i kept imagining what it might look like. I thought about how the time travel might work. I thought about James's Greek equivalent. I ranted to my sister and her dog (he did not care) about what the statue might look like and mean (sorry bestie love u).

one narrative decision that has given me a bit of strife was the Dimitrios-James name change. I've had a number of people ask me if I'd ever try to pubilsh theog – and this is one of the (many) reasons why that would be pretty categorically impossible. using James's English name in his internal narration, instead of the name I give him as a Greek man, is something that only translates to fic. it makes pretty much no sense at all if you consider these original characters lol.

honestly putting the word 'practicum' in here caused me SO much pain. in James's chapters I tried really hard to use words which had Greek roots and not Latin roots, even if they're in modern English today. in most of his chapters, I'd try and find synonyms for big/complex words so I could use ones that came from Greek. it just helped me stick to his narrative voice a bit more.

I forgot how much STUFF went on in this chapter. oh my god SO much happens?? we get the lack of the Parthenon as the time marker (felt very clever doing that), Lily processing the fact that she's time traveled (lazy writing on my part to not have this happen in a Lily POV chapter but I'll take that on the chin), the Plataea reveal. OML. tired just thinking about it. lily sweetie i am so sorry

guys, the amount of time I spent wondering if I should Greek-ify Sirius's name is insane. For so long I thought about making him Seirios, which is the original Greek version of Sirius. But I felt like I had already messed with their names too much, and so I left it. but honestly I'm still torn. looking back, maybe it would have been the right move to make him Seirios and have Lily give him the name Sirius, but I guess we'll never know!

one of my favorite Sirius moments, and something that, essentially, sets up the rest of the story. but I wanted there to be a little ambiguity throughout the story about how much of this Sirius actually believes.

we know that James has just confessed to Sirius and Pétros that he was hoping they'd desert the Athenian army. we know that he thinks he's going to die, and he's adopted this sort of fatalist view of his future. and then here you have Sirius, who could never abide such a thing, pretty much leaning into the idea that Lily can tell the future – which would allow him to challenge James's prediction. I always wanted to leave it up to interpretation, and I know it comes up in later chapters (at the komos especially), Sirius's skepticism about Lily's origins. but it's such a fun question to ask: does he really believe that she's the Oracle that James prayed for, or does he just need that to be true so he can try and influence the future himself?

Chapter Three: Peribolos

omg. lol. the chapter three opening academic argument scene. this is a favorite of mine, and something I had so much fun writing. it's actually based on an argument/"spirited discussion" I had with my dad a few years ago about moral absolutism versus moral relativism which forced me to interrogate and expand my knowledge on the subject. I thought it was such a fun way to get into Lily's politics and her character without doing crazy exposition in the ancient world.

it also touches upon one of the touchstone themes of the story: that to study something is, in a way, to detach yourself from it. academia is routintely completely disconnected from its subject matter, and it creates this weird disdain for lived experience versus book knowledge. Lily has spent upwards of ten years studying (in some capacity) the ancient world, but she is so utterly out of her depth when she experiences it herself. as such, she espouses these very revolutionary politics when examining historical conflicts, but she has a blindness to what the real-world realities may have been for the people living in those conditions at the time.

alsooooo, The Return of Martin Guerre is one of my favorite books I read in college, and the easter egg here is that it's about a person of dubious origin entering a community and the politics of how the community might accept or reject them. ha ha!

^^based on something I said in an argument with a Poli Sci major in college and I have to say one of my better moments. was an absolute haymaker. this was very 'author gives main character a zinger' of me and I will not be ashamed of it

this! ladies and gentlemen! this was basically a declaration of love!!!! to be loved is to be remembered!!!

in a very romantic way, the study of history can be such an act of love to those who lived before us. i just adore the idea that, even before Lily developed real romantic feelings for James, she had this itching sort of feeling; AKA, when someone has made such an impression on you, and you know (or in her case, you think) that you'll be leaving them at some point, and you just want to be interesting enough, be impressive enough, that they remember you, that they think of you randomly as time goes on. that is such a giddy hallmark feeling of having a crush, in my book. I liken it to making eye contact with someone or having a brief conversation on a night out, maybe at 3am on your way back from a bar when things are sleepy and dizzy, and you just have this sense that you're being seen in that moment as anyone you want to be. i love this moment so much I feel like I could give it its own meta LMAO

Chapter Four: Hamartia

this chapter really put the pedal to to the metal lol. at the time of writing the story, I generally didn't (and still don't) love fake dating that much as a trope; I don't typically love plotlines predicated on (even harmless) deceptions, it's just a sensitivity of mine that I don't expect anyone to relate to or share. but when I was considering how to structure theog, it just made so much sense for James and Lily's arcs to have them get 'married.' there was no way that Lily was going to be able to navigate Classical Athens as an unsupervised woman alone, and even with the Oracle title offering her some protection, there was nothing really tying her to James. much like Outlander, it really did feel like the last possible resort, which softened me to the idea of using the trope.

fun fact, i got a snarky comment a few months ago complaining that i was trying to pass the story off as historically accurate (lol to the fifteen disclaimers I embedded throughout which addressed that) and one thing they took issue with was that lily wouldn't have been able to own property and the only thing that would have kept her from being a slave would have been marriage.

which! yknow! none of which contradict the story! but anyway I digress.

I was initially nervous about how early on the fake marriage happens; we don't really know the characters that well yet, we're not sure who James is as a potential partner to Lily, or how Lily's feelings for him are starting to bump up against her very rightful and justified desire to get the hell out of dodge. but – we only really see James in canon as a husband and as the father to the main character, so it felt pretty true to the source material to throw him into being a husband pretty early.

I loved writing this scene with Aristides. I've always been partial to his appearances throughout the story, and this one is just so special to me. I think of him as a driving force in humanizing the ancient world in theog, sometimes even more so than the main cast of characters. to elaborate a bit on that: with the Marauders and Lily and the other transplanted HP characters, I think there's this inherent sense that they are already fleshed out people (to some degree) even before they hit the page of the story, because they appear in canon and across Marauder fic verses. no matter how much I make James into Dimitrios and Peter into Pétros and Fleamont into Philoctetes, people know them and love them outside of theogony verse. but not Aristides. he doesn't have a one-to-one HP character. there is some version of him that really existed in 479 BCE (my complex and largely negative feelings on RPF are setting off alarms at this but we proceed) and that's it.

it would have been easy to just give him this very gruff and surly character, to make him a military general who didn't care about anything other than the war. I think that's how we conceptualize historical people sometimes, often without meaning to. but he was a person, and he had likes and dislikes, he probably had a family and maybe he'd fallen in love, and it was such an honor to give him such dimension. not to say that I'm putting that personality upon the actual historical person; but just to really take my time with a character outside of the Marauder canon. in this scene he has this human moment where he reminds James that, yes, love is a worthy pursuit, even to those in positions of incredible power. even when the discussion isn't about romantic love but about James's love for his closest friends. it's this permission that James didn't even know he was seeking but ultimately that changes the course of his and Lily's lives. Aristides is who James might become, in many ways. in the actual Plataea chapter this becomes more and more prevalent. (more on this later!)

overall, I am forever hoping that people come out of reading this story with an appreciation for the humanity of those that came before us. I did a poor job with other characters in this story, and I own that, but I'm proud of how I wrote Aristides.

oh my godddddd I fucking love this part. i am so fucking proud of it. LMAO. achieving wordplay in an ancient language that i have never studied should be on my fucking CV I swear. like this was just perfect I'm sorry I am BUZZING that I pulled this off.

also, a cute way to introduce a phrase to the narrative which will become very important: se filo!

I remember that I wrote this passage, which many people commented on and which I loved writing, in a coffee shop on a sunny day when my cousin was visiting me to introduce me to his girlfriend. there wasn't any wifi in the coffee shop so I was blessedly devoid of distractions and could only focus on the doc, and i was LOCKED IN let me tell you.

when my cousin and his girlfriend arrived I told them I was sending an important email and edited the last sentence of that paragraph about four different times while they sat in silence and waited for me to finish LMAOOO

Chapter Five: Ascesis

a profoundly insane moment in my personal history was reading excerpts from Eudemian Ethics, Nichomachean Ethics, and Memorabilia just to passively mention them in a flashback in a fic. relied heavily on Foucault for this, I will be so honest. why did i do that tho. like girl take a breath...

but in all seriousness this was just a joy to write. i miss being a history student and having these discussions – law school is great, but history classes will forever hold my heart ngl! also, this passage is in some ways an homage to my grandfather, who is one of my favorite people ever. he taught himself Classical Greek and Latin when he was in his 20s, before he went to medical school (and get his pilot's license for fun, he's seriously the most interesting guy alive). he gifted me his leatherbound Great Books printings of Aristotle's works and of the Iliad and the Odyssey shortly after I started theogony, and I cherish them so much. he spurred my interest in ancient greece when i was young. so this is for him :)

one of the hardest things for me to articulate (and maybe something I could have done better) was the war and the balance between James's inherent goodness and his growing feelings for Lily. i wanted her to have plausible reason to think that he doesn't at all feel romantically towards her, even as she's growing to admire him more and more. I hoped, as I wrote the story, that these little interactions where the reader clues into his feelings (this protective 'peninsula' moment being one of them) still walked that line. as in, i wanted lily to reasonably believe that he's just that good of a guy that he would take issue with anyone being taken advantage of, not just her. she's so destabilized in this moment as well, I think that worked to my advantage. or I hoped it did LOL.

from what I remember of writing this chapter, it just came really quickly and naturally. much more than the later ones. this early period of writing was just an outpouring of the ABSOLUTE BRAINROT I was going through after conjuring up the idea for the story. it just flew. the ending scene where they have their little almost-moment was probably about an hour's worth of writing. it's like I couldn't type fast enough to keep up with my thoughts. not sure i've experienced that since!

also, the now, here, alive line reappears in the last chapter, which is one of my favorite callbacks:

:) :) :)

Chapter Six: Kleos

one thing I used to worry about CONSTANTLY is that I was losing the classic (and necessary!) Marauder goofiness to the more somber setting. so it was a jaunt and a boon to write scenes like the opening one here, where it honestly could be copy-pasted into the Gryffindor Common Room and it'd look a lot like my canon stories.

he's just a dude being hungover and embarrassed about the previous night with his bros!

the first time we get a hint of Pétros disappearing to dubious locations!

this chapter was one of the most research-heavy. it was a new setting, filled with new characters, and predicated entirely upon planning the Greek front at Plataea. so if I couldn't nail that down (at least to some degree), I was going to have trouble. of course I took liberties, but I spent a lot longer combing through sources for this chapter than some other ones, I'll tell you that for free. it took ages to find any treatises on ancient athenian sword combat, sigh.

yeah I mean i remember thinking that the subtitle for this chapter could have been 'I am going to create an environment that is so toxically masculine' because that's pretty much the whole vibe. James is not immune to that, either, and that was intentional. he feeds off of the violence and the anger of the men surrounding him, and he exhibits some behaviors in this chapter (rushing off to kill Anaxagoras after he grabs Lily's arm, for instance) which are not ideal! but I do think that there's meaningful conversation to be had about Lily's cultural assimilation into an ancient, misogynistic society, and how there was absolutely no way I was going to get out of this story without giving James some sort of period-typical attitude. now again, I took the liberties I deem necessary, because I have no desire to make my main romantic lead into an asshole. that's not my James Potter. not that that's news [gets taken out by a sniper]

i got CLOWNEDDD for referring to this dude as Dion son of Dion but idk what to tell you!! that's how the old documents referred to him!!! i didn't make that shit up I swear to god!!!!

also - that's the actual text of the Oath of Plataea, except (as Lily points out) it should read Athena Areia. is it likey that she'd remember this off the dome? no. is it possible that she just recognized the missing descriptor from context clues? yes. did i care enough to explain this either way? no, no i did not.

the Big Ticket Item of this chapter, though, is the oh.

and it wasn't just an oh, it was an oh followed by this innocuous conclusion that isn't even about Lily. i made myself laugh so hard with that. he's just like 'oh god my friend is going to wave this over my head FOREVER' and you know what? he's right!

as for the previous paragraph in that passage, I pulled a bit of a bait and switch, but not as badly as you might think! it was a risk to even bring up the idea that James could leave Athens, because I know it spurred some people into thinking that he'd go to the future with Lily (sorry babies that was not on the table). but what I intended for this passage (however successful it may or may not have been) was to just…allow him a moment of real, visceral empathy for the sensation of displacement that Lily's experiencing, and as well, introduce the idea that he might leave the life he's cultivated in Athens. his entire upbringing has been himself, the consummate Athenian man, surrounding himself with people from outside of Athens and drawing from their experiences, but never venturing outside of his little realm. in so many ways, the story questions what Lily's relationship with 'home' is (especially later on), but it always felt necessary to me to reckon with how 'home' may change for James as well.

finally:

yeah honestly i just remember the exact moment i thought of this passage. i had been reading the secret history (shoutout Donna Tartt i idolize and fear you) and i was lying down in my local park in the summer. I just thought about the Greek myths I knew, and the kind of cosmic horror that it is to really admit you're falling in love with someone, that they have this power over you that you didn't anticipate. and that closing line of the scene really struck me out of nowhere – I wrote it down in my notebook and just stared at it for a good few minutes. it's still one of my favs of the story :)

ok! if you made it this far, you are just amazing. this has to be a few thousand words at least. TYSM!!!!

see you all later for the part 2 BTS ❤️

[oliversrarebooks]

Brainwashing Chair CYOA - Save Your Strength

Masterlist > Next

tw: pet whump, restraints, drugging, conditioning

you chose: save your strength

The handler is pushing an ominous black mask closer to your face, and you can't seem to think of a way that you're not entirely screwed. 

Perhaps it was a little too easy to confidently state that you're willing to risk your mind when you were safe and surrounded by your journalist group, eager to reveal the sordid secrets of pet processing. Now, confronted by the very real possibility that your mind is going to be permanently altered, you can't help but wonder if it's worth it.

You hope at the very least your group is getting good footage of this.

Overtly struggling seems pointless when you're restrained and surrounded, and they've threatened to do something worse to you if you fight them too much. You think that if you want to make it out of here intact, you're going to have to choose your battles. Still, you can't keep yourself from holding your breath as the mask seals firmly around your mouth and nose, not terribly eager to be drugged again.

"Just take a deep breath," the man says, as he straps the mask around the back of your head. "Count backwards from ten if you like. Soon, you won't be worrying about a thing."

"You can't hold your breath forever," says the woman, as your lungs start to burn. "Make it easy on yourself and breathe."

She is, unfortunately, right. You can't hold your breath forever. You eventually have to take a breath, choking down the artificial scent of flowers. Your head is spinning from it -- whatever they're drugging you with is potent, and there's no way you can avoid breathing for long. You're just going to have to try and keep yourself awake and aware as much as you can.

The handlers are hovering around the chair, their complete nonchalance adding to your humiliation. "Did you put in an order for lunch?" the woman says.

"Oh, I think I missed the group order. What was it?"

"Mexican. But I wish... cool local place..."

You realize that you're sinking into a kind of daze. It's hard to focus on their conversation. You try to shake off the feeling, but it's filling your head like cotton wool. The drugged gas is quickly getting to you -- you're starting to feel so drowsy and your eyelids are slowly drooping downwards.

But being sedated isn't really what's worrying you. The larger problem is that it's beginning to feel nice. There's a lovely warmth spreading all over your body, and a strange euphoria blossoming in your brain. It feels good. So good. 

Your terror at having your mind altered, your fear of being found out, your uncertainty about what you've gotten yourself into -- all of that is melting away, slipping through your grasp even as you try to hold onto it. It's becoming difficult to focus for long on any of those complex, scary thoughts. Not when you feel so amazing, like everything's going to be okay.

Maybe everything is going to be okay. You feel so warm and blissful and you're so sleepy. Maybe it's fine to just relax and let whatever's going to happen, happen.

...No! That's just the gas, not how you really feel about it. You can't stop yourself from being drugged, but you can fight against the effects.

...but it's a lot of effort compared to just laying back and breathing the nice gas that's making you feel so, so good...

"Looks like it's kicking in now." The woman is talking about you, startling you as you were starting to drift off. "I'll start the program."

"Great, then we can get lunch."

Lunch? How long are they going to leave you here under the effects of this gas? Isn't that dangerous? You're not sure what worries you more: the idea that they're going to be leaving you alone and drugged for god knows how long, or the fact that part of you is more than happy to melt into the chair and let the soothing sensations just wash over you.

The man dims the lights in the room as the woman slips a pair of headphones over your ears. You hear a sound that's like a cross between pouring rain and white noise, and beneath it, words that are difficult to make out. Subliminals? Those don't actually work, do they?

What are they saying? You strain to hear it.

At the sound of the door clicking, you shake yourself out of a daze once again. The handlers are gone. Maybe you can free yourself? Do... something...?

The darkened room is blurry and indistinct around you, and your limbs feel heavy. Your eyes are blinking slowly as you try to keep yourself awake. There has to be something you can do before you lose yourself completely...

Masterlist > Next

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: crimson red paint on my lips | part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Mean Smuggler!Joel Miller/Smuggler! Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel Miller is an asshole.

You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red.

Author’s Note: This is a considerably darker characterization than my other Joel fics. I’d be open to writing more like it, so let me know your thoughts! I’m also open to other requests 💕

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: explicit sexual content (18+), explicit language, mean mean mean Joel Miller, considerable age gap (25F and 56M), degradation, pet names (but mean), rough oral sex (m and f receiving), spitting, choking, crying, v fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, begging, did i mention MEAN???, alcohol use, no aftercare. Let me know if any are missing!

You’ve been searching for more pills in a drugstore that had been well picked over, a wall blown out with glass and rubble everywhere, when you saw the little gold tube on the ground. At first, you thought it was a bullet casing. You’d seen plenty of those before.

But picking it up and dusting it off revealed a seam on the tube and when you pulled it, the top popped off to reveal the creamy red makeup inside.

At twenty-five, you spent most of your life in a QZ, but there are some things you have a hazy memory of from better days. Your mom, sitting at her makeup vanity as a five-year-old version of you looked up at her in awe as she swiped lipstick across her lips. Glossy magazine ads where the women had their mouths painted in a rainbow of shades.

You pocket the tube and continue on, eyes scanning every crevice for missed treasure. You do manage to find one bottle of oxycodone, a pretty big score.

You hear your name being called from the front of the store and you make your way back to the exit.

Joel Miller stands amongst the rubble, arms crossed and face frozen in his permanent scowl. Just the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat, and you know it shouldn’t. He’s much too old for you and just thinks of you as some dumb kid. He told Tess as much when she argued that you should come with them.

When you’re within arms reach, he wraps his broad hand around your bicep in a punishing grip. “Been callin’ for you. You need to pay attention.”

“Was just in the back, sorry,” you reply, wincing at the pinch of his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“FEDRA agents, we gotta clear out.” He pokes his head around the corner of the building before slamming you back against the brick with his body, his hand slapping over your mouth to cut off your sound of surprise.

The front of his body is pressed tightly to yours and you stare up at him, eyes wide with fear. Heavy booted footsteps echo nearby, the tell tale sound of overconfident FEDRA agents that play gods amongst men. Joel brings a finger to his lips, a command to be quiet even though you can’t make a sound with his broad palm over your mouth.

His forehead tilts to yours as he reigns in his own labored breaths, his eyes falling shut. You shift against him, just slightly, surprised to feel a tell tale hardness pressing into your tummy. Your heart rate kicks up even higher, and it has nothing to do with your fear.

Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes snap open, piercing you with a stare so cold it sends a shiver down your spine.

When Joel deems the area safe again, he rips his hand from your mouth, eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he turns and stomps away without another word, not bothering to make sure you’re following.

When the two of you meet up with Tess, you hand her the bottle of oxycodone.

“Excellent job, kiddo,” she says with a smile. “See, Joel? Told you she’d be worth it.”

He only grunts in reply, eyes fixed on the ground, and you feel your shoulders drop. You don’t know why, but you’re desperate to prove to him that you’re worthy.

Of what, you’re not sure.

You decide to keep the lipstick for yourself.

________

Joel nearly wanted to strangle Tess when she showed up with you standing at her shoulder. He knew the older woman had a soft spot for taking care of you and making sure you knew how to fend for yourself, ever since you’d turned up at the QZ as a transfer from another city five years ago, twenty-years old with the same haunted stare he recognizes in himself.

But all he can think about when he sees you is getting you on your knees or pressed beneath his body, the scent of sex and sound of your moans drowning out the atrocities beyond the walls of his shitty apartment.

He breaks out the whiskey he keeps for quieting the noise in his head, slamming back two shots of it in quick succession. There’s a tentative knock at his door and he stands with a groan.

Nothing could have prepared him to find you on the other side of the door, a low cut shirt and tight ass jeans holding in your curves. But perhaps the worst part is the crimson red paint on your lips.

He reaches out and grabs you by the shoulder, yanking you inside the apartment and slamming the door. You stumble slightly, surprised at the sudden rough movement, but Joel can’t find it in him to care.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” He snaps.

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your eyes wide as you struggle to find words to reply. He steps closer.

“You do know there’s monsters out there, right? Worse than runners, worse than clickers,” he snaps. “And don’t think any low life FEDRA agent would come runnin’ for help if you were screamin’ for it.”

“I-I don’t…I didn’t—“

He’s toe to toe with you now, like he can’t help but be sucked into your orbit. Your eyes are watery as you blink up at him and, god help his soul, he’s dying to see those tears run down your cheeks so he can chase their salty taste with his tongue.

“You didn’t what, sweetheart? Use that fuckin’ brain in your head to make a better decision than showin’ up on my doorstep painted like a goddamn whore?”

Your hand shoots up, aiming to land a slap across his cheek, but he sees it coming. He grabs your wrist, yanking at your arm until he’s got it pinned behind your back. He forces you forward until your cheek is pressed against the discolored wallpaper.

“Let me go,” you growl, struggling beneath him. “You think I’m so goddamn stupid, then let me leave, I’ll never bother you again you fuckin’ asshole.”

Joel laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. Because you’ll still be out there, lookin’ at me with those big innocent eyes of yours, beggin’ for attention.”

Your breath hitches, and he knows he���s struck a chord. He’s not dumb, he knows you’re desperate for his attention. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop when he walks by you without acknowledging you, or doesn’t include you in the conversation he’s having with Tess.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you snap.

“Oh, honey, I’d love to,” he teases. You go still beneath you. Slowly, he releases the hold he has on you, stepping back. You turn to face him. “Get on your knees. You want my attention so goddamn bad? Show me how much.”

________

Joel Miller is an asshole. You knew this, it’s been obvious in every encounter you’ve had with the older man, but you still showed up at his door.

He’s right. You are a fucking idiot.

But like the strings holding you up have been cut, you drop heavily to your knees, staring up at him for instruction. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he stares down at you with disdain.

“Take my cock out,” he commands. You bring unsteady hands to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. Finally, you free the clasp and rush to open his fly, tugging his jeans low enough to reach in and free his length from its denim confines.

You’re surprised to find it already so hard, the thick length already an angry dark red.

“Don’t just stare at it, princess. Open your mouth,” he says, hand gripping your jaw with bruising fingers as he forces your mouth open. “Tongue out.”

You stick your tongue out and he slaps the head of his cock on it, the action so lewd your face heats with a blush. He laughs, the sound cruel but your thighs clench regardless.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he says, voice low. He slides further into your mouth and you open wider to accommodate him. “Look at those pretty red lips stretched tight around my cock.”

He begins to thrust, shallow at first, before he picks up the pace, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. He only pulls back slightly, barely enough for any relief before pressing forward again.

You can feel the tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. Joel withdraws from your mouth completely, allowing you the brief chance to heave in desperate gulps of air. He tilts your chin up and you look up at him from under tear filled lashes.

He drags a thumb from the corner of your eye, collecting the evidence of his harsh treatment and bringing it to his lips as his eyes stay locked with yours.

“You see that, baby?” He asks, nodding to his cock gripped in his hand. “See all that red on my cock? You did that with your little whore mouth.”

You can’t help the tiny whimper that claws its way out of your throat. He smiles, the visage wicked.

“Get on the couch.” You try to stand, but he halts your effort with a hand on your head. “I didn’t say you could stand.”

You blink at him, confused. He only lifts an eyebrow.

You shift forward, planting your hands in front of you, crawling slowly towards the couch. You can feel his eyes on your ass, the whole experience humiliating but you can feel the wetness soaking your panties.

You seat yourself on the couch, waiting for his next instruction. He kneels between your legs, hands finding the button of your jeans with a deftness you could never dream of having. He urges your hips off the cushions as he tears the denim and your panties down in one motion. Next, those confident fingers curl into the hem of your shirt and shove it up only enough to expose your breasts to his dark gaze.

He shifts closer, the broad expanse of his shoulders keeping your legs open as he uses his thumbs to spread your wet folds open to him. You can’t help but clench in anticipation.

“Look at your desperate little hole, clenchin’ around nothin’,” he teases. He purses his lips, spit landing on your heated core and making you arch in surprise, a moan leaving your lips. “Christ, you’re fuckin’ filthy.”

He drags a rough thumb over your clit in slow circles, the sensation all together too much and not enough. Then two of his fingers slide inside of you, a pinch of pain at the sudden intrusion making you whimper. He curls his fingers as he withdraws his hand.

“Joel,” you whisper, voice watery.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” he replies, repeating his motions, faster this time. Again and again his fingers slide into your body, skimming a part inside of you that turns you into a whimpering mess, writhing beneath him on the couch.

“Please, Joel,” you beg, voice louder with this plea.

“Please, what?”

“More,” you beg. A third finger, the stretch painful and glorious, slides into your heat. And as delicious as the filled feeling is, your clit is pulsing with need. “More,” you cry again.

“Don’t get greedy,” he snaps, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“Want your mouth, Joel, please?” You beg again.

“What makes you think a desperate little slut deserves my mouth?” He asks. God, he sounds so fucking mean but it just makes you tighten around him.

“I’ve been good, Joel,” you say, voice small. You whimper at another harsh thrust of his fingers. “Please.”

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks the sensitive nub roughly. Combined with the scratch of his stubble on your inner thighs and the dark look in his eyes as he gazes up your body, the taut thread of your release snaps, you pussy fluttering around his fingers as he keeps up his rough pace until your hips are writhing from your overstimulation.

“Thought you said you were bein’ good,” Joel says as he sits back on his heels. “But good girls ask permission to cum.”

You feel your lower lip tremble slightly, eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry.”

He stands, sitting down heavily on the couch, his cock slapping against his belly. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you like a rag doll until you’re in his lap, the warm heat of him sliding through your wetness making you shiver.

“Make me cum,” he says, smacking one of your ass cheeks roughly. “Now.”

You reach between your bodies, holding his cock steady as you position it at your entrance. You slide down with a gasp, the size of him still holding a bite of pain despite the way he’d worked your cunt.

“No more sittin’ still.”

________

Joel’s eyes are fixed where his body meets yours, watching the obscene slide of your tight cunt over his cock with rapt attention. You’re a goddamn mess all over, cheeks stained with tears and lipstick smudged across your lips and chin. Your slick skin slides against him when you grind down on him with a whimper.

“Faster,” he demands. Your hands grip his shoulders for stability as you pick up your pace, bouncing desperately on his dick. He slides a hand around your throat, squeezing the sides roughly. He can feel your pulse intensify against his fingers.

“That’s it, just like that,” he groans. “You sure make a pretty little toy, baby.”

He feels your moan against his hand, the sound music to his depraved mind as he begins to thrust up, meeting each of your downward movements with a harsh smack of his hips.

When he’s balancing on the edge of his release, he withdraws from your body, using that hold on your throat to keep you suspended over his lap, grabbing his cock in a punishing grip. He allows you to drop down onto his knees and you gasp, eyes wide as you look between your bodies and watch as he cums, hot and thick, across your lower belly.

You collapse against his chest, and Joel allows the brief contact while you catch your breath. After a moment, he taps your hip, urging you off of him.

When you’re sitting on the couch, he shoves himself back into his jeans before leaning down to grab your pants, tossing them to you. If you notice that your underwear is missing, you don’t say anything as you pull your pants on. He goes to the bathroom, coming back with a rag that you use to scrape his spend from your skin.

“Go fix yourself in the bathroom,” he says. Without a word, you do as he says, shutting the door with a quiet click.

While you’re in there, he finds a t-shirt of his and clutches it in a white knuckled grip while you do your business behind the closed door. When you emerge, face wiped clean and hair mostly in place, he shoves the shirt into your hands.

“Put that on.” You stare at the bundle in your hands, brow furrowed. “Now.”

You tug the large shirt over your head, slipping your arms through. It hits mid thigh and covers your tits.

Perfect.

“Get out. And don’t come back.”

________

The door shuts behind you, the click of the latch as loud as a gunshot in the hallway.

Joel Miller is an asshole.

And you shouldn’t have expected anything less.

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @liati2000 @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt

[geekgirles]

Aurora's Claim: a Chapter 3 Analysis

Okay, so I read the chapter and, as expected, I'm fuming. However, it does give me the perfect chance to mention how, no matter what the Osamodas said, it still doesn't contradict my thoughts on Armand and Aurora's relationship and her lack of agency outside her father's thrall. Thoughts I discussed in length here.

On the contrary, I'd say it actually proves my suspicions right. So let's dive in, shall we? (Spoilers for the chapter under the cut).

First of all, I still don't trust a word that leaves Aurora's mouth, so I refuse to believe Armand knew about the pregnancy and told her to flee until we get more tangible evidence. After all, what good would it have done? If the Sadida and Eliatrope fell, the rest of the world would follow soon. And even if he did, I maintain that he didn't want her to rule his kingdom alone, because he still told Amalia it was up to her to take up the mantle.

(I finally got to take that screenshot)

But see? Not once did Armand mention Aurora or tell Amalia to please help her rule or anything like that. He didn't even take advantage of those precious few seconds he had left to let his sister in on such major news, to tell her she was gonna be an aunt. Nothing. He instead makes it pretty clear his sister is the Sadidas' next queen, not his wife. Which I'm convinced is because he knew all along his in-laws couldn't be trusted.

See, not even after these frames did Armand mention Aurora's supposed state or what it would mean for the kingdom. Not even then did he think she should ascend to the throne if he wasn't there by her side. Armand never wanted Aurora to rule on her own, child or no child.

Again, because he most likely suspected what the Osamodas would try as soon as they got the chance. Their people might have been joined by marriage, but they were never allies.

Which is something that is immediately proven as soon as Aurora reveals she's pregnant. Her family has no intention of honouring Sadida traditions. They don't even mention the very real possibility that the child might end up being an Osamodas and, therefore, unfit to rule the tree people inhabiting the World of Twelve, in which case I'd say her claim on the throne would be void.

No, as soon as they arrive and drop the bomb, Aurora makes it clear she has no intention of allowing Amalia anywhere near power. Just like she makes it clear she is nothing but her father's pawn, seeing as in no point in time she intends to part from him, even if she were to ascend to the throne.

And the Osamodas intentions of controlling Sadida politics become crytal clear from that point forward. Because Aurora never tries to include Amalia in any of this, despite her being the last Sheran Sharm and, thefore, having received training on how to rule (as seen in season 2 when she was busy with her duties and kept sending Yugo and Ad to help) or sharing the strongest connection to the Tree of Life. You know, the very same thing Aurora and her child would be in charge of guarding with their lives should she become queen? With that in mind, it would only make sense to keep Amalia close in order to help her rule.

But what does Aurora do instead?

She insists her father will help her until the baby is born, and from that point onwards, he will still be around to raise the kid. In other words, that child has been doomed to become the Osamodas King's puppet even before they're even born! They intend to raise the next Sadida ruler to have their people's best interests in mind, not the Sadidas'.

And where does Amalia fit in all this?

She doesn't, because Aurora's very last line about how Amalia should do what she does best and travel the world could not be any more of an abvious way to tell her she doesn't want her anywhere near the kingdom, where she could get in the way of her family's scheming.

Before I finish this rant, I feel morally obligated to point out the sheer disrespect everyone seems to feel for Amalia. Yes, she's always been very free-spirited and spent long periods of time away, but if it weren't for her, her people and the World of Twelve would have died three times over (not counting the Nécromes attack because that was during the only time she remained in her kingdom).

Amalia's adventures have allowed her to grow and mature in ways no other ruler has had to go through. It's thanks to her and her friends that her kingdom and the rest of the world are still standing. And no one knows of the sacrifices required to save the world like she does.

She couldn't be there when her father died because she was saving the world from Oropo, for fuck's sake!

But sure, the Osamodas can keep calling her selfish and spoiled. After all, it takes one to know one. Because let's not forget how Aurora being pregnant or not is still no excuse for her father not sending help, meaning they're still very much a bunch of cowards and traitors insteads of the martyrs they're trying to present themselves as.

Literally the only way I can ever see myself coming to like Aurora is if she actually matured and developed beyond being her father's pawn and turned against him, realising Amalia is indeed the rightful ruler.

Until then, I'm going to be cheering for Amalia to wipe the floor with her.

@cocogum @vinillain @onyichii I hope you don't mind another analysis on the same topic.

[myfairstarlight]

Good day friend! I've been really enjoying your takes for bridgerton this season :D Would love to hear your thoughts about part 2, particularly Colin's character portrayal if you're at all inclined!

Well hello there dear, thank you!

And what a coincidence, because Colin's portrayal, always the polarising topic in this fandom it seems, has been on my mind ever since I finished watching part 2... I shall ramble here then! I hope you do not mind a long answer, dear reader, for my last analysis post was not a quick read indeed. And I will now also stop trying to sound like Whistledown.

So, overall thoughts? I think he was handled mostly brilliantly, actually. And thus still despite the pacing issues (but that's an overall issue I have with the show, not specific to this season). Controversial take, already, so let's break it down a bit.

I will try to organise my rambling, but this is pretty much my immediate thoughts after watching the season. Perhaps I'll make a more organised and proper post later, adding Penelope's side, like my friends to lovers love letter, but we'll see! So:

Colin's journey to self-love

Because just like Penelope, though we arguably see it less, Colin has his own journey to loving himself because the thing with Colin is that he's still so insecure. Yes, he's more himself in part 2 now that he realised he's in love, he no longer tries to pretend to be someone he's not, but he still struggles to prove himself, and we see it in those last two episodes, when the truth is truly out. People are harsh on him for being so caught up in what Whistledown wrote and constantly celebrating the idea that LW might meet her demise, almost like a child who just got some sweets, but as we've seen in his discussion with Eloise after the reveal, it's because Whistledown calling him out at the beginning of the season for his new persona poked at his biggest insecurity, and he's still stuck on that, even more so now that he learns Penelope was behind the words, the one person who always made him feel seen and in this case, made him feel too seen. To me, him bringing up Marina so insistently was him grasping at straws, clinging to the one thing he knows for sure was unfair so he does not have to face the fact that what Penelope wrote was the truth (sidenote, was a little disappointed they did not have Penelope say she did try to talk to him about Marina but he literally did not listen and did not care that Marina loved another). He is still trying to find who he is and for a moment, he thought he had it, thanks to the very person now making him question everything all over again.

And oh boy does he not cope well.

Hero complex and what it means to be the man of the house

Colin has a hero complex. That's news to absolutely no one, unless you have not paid attention, so I won't make a list of the instances in previous seasons again. But we see it right away in e5 as he stands up for Penelope in front of Portia, then constantly shielding Penelope as soon as Cressida is involved. Penelope even thanks him for it, telling her no one has ever stood up for her of the sort, which fuels his hero complex. In fact, it is Colin's protectiveness that leads him to learn Penelope is Whistledown since he followed her out of worry, and that leads him to the realisation that she may not need him as much as he thought she did (and in his mind, perhaps she even just pretended to need him, to love him). And that, along with discovering that secret, shatters him. His whole sense of purpose, the one thing he thought he could for sure provide? Gone, just like that.

Even more so later when he learns she may be richer than him lol

So he overcompensates. When Cressida's blackmail is revealed, he does not listen, he jumps on the opportunity to prove himself, to protect his wife even if he's still mad at her, no one can disrespect her and his family so blatantly. As the man of the house, he needs to do what he must. And then he fucking fails and makes things far worse. And you know what? How satisfying it was that for once he failed, arguably when it was the most important for him, to remind him that hey, don't get on your high horse, listen to your wife and your family, don't try to handle everything on your own! (A lesson that Penelope also has to learn at the same time! That's marriage baby!) I like that he gets humbled twice, by Penelope and Cressida, the person he loves most and the one he despises so, yet they both throw the truth at him - he's privileged, as a man, and as a Bridgerton. He gets to question himself, travel to his whim, be even reckless like he just was because he will always have unconditional love from his family, but Penelope had to hide a part of herself to be able to do something she likes, meanwhile Cressida has to resort to questionable means to avoid getting married off to an old man. They do not have the luxury that Colin has to just do things. And it pains him to face that.

I've seen the sentiment that part 2 has Penelope be more assertive than Colin, with the dynamic shifting again when it should not, and while it is true she is the one who seeks him out more, it makes sense, she is seeking his forgiveness all throughout the last two episodes. I love her, but you cannot argue she is not at fault here and Colin deserves to be upset and a bit withdrawn as he deals with the conflicting feelings suddenly assaulting him. Yes the entrapment accusation hurt especially since he was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself, but with his history after Marina, it makes sense that's what his hurt mind decides to focus on that, to justify the fact he's still so upset (It does bother me he never apologises for that comment though, at the same time Penelope doesn't hold it against him. They, or the writers, probably forgot about it.) But I would also argue that him being so troubled, is a proof of love, he even says so to Eloise "you are lucky you've never been in love" because if he wasn't, this would be much easier to deal with. Despite it all, he loves her, he chooses her, he will protect her, he must. He decides to sleep on the sofa to still stay close to Penelope despite the fact he could just sleep in one of the empty bedrooms. He still reassures her during their wedding, with one look encouraging her to walk more confidently down the aisle, and he holds her oh so tenderly when they dance at the wedding breakfast. He's so upset, but he's still so much in love. Of course, unlike part 1, there's no urgency or desperation on his part, there's no Debling threatening to take Penelope away, or him trying to earn back her favours so of course suddenly his displays of love feel less outward. But again, they're arguing, no he will not forgive her so easily, and that's a good thing, yet he's still here to support and protect her, and that says so much because again, he could just leave, that would have no consequence to him as a man. And in kind, Penelope makes an effort to do better as well, no longer witholding any secret from him, and he sees that.

And deep down, he understands Penelope, we see it when he confronts Cressida and perfectly described why Penelope became LW without her telling him in such words beforehand, because he's had similar struggles, he just needs to admit it, and be okay to show this vulnerability with her.

Colin's writer struggles and jealousy.

Now, I must admit, this was the weakest and a bit disappointing part of his arc to me, which is why I'm writing it last. I wish we could have had more time exploring that, and not just being told so (hopefully in s4? Assuming the writers won't pull a Kate and Anthony and constantly have them leave for no reason). This, however, adds to the previous part and Colin's struggle to provide, be the man of the house.

Here his wife is, an accomplished writer, even if under a pen name, who may be richer than he, oh how it must have deepened his insecurity. After all, if he cannot provide protection, or financial stability, then what good is he to her? What good are his silly journals when compared to that damn column that has all of Mayfair on a chokehold?

And yet.

Is it not telling and precious that he kept all of Penelope's letters? And that they're the catalyst of reminding him why he loves her so much, and how her love for writing and her cleverness shine through and that it is unfair of him to expect her to give it up when he himself aspires to be a writer? Writing is what brings them together truly, the same way writing letters to each other was the precursor for him realising his feelings as well. He is at peace then, Penelope is Whistledown, and she shines with her pen, and Colin fell in love with her quill, long ago, he was just overcome with grief to realise Whistledown held the same brilliance.

And sure, Penelope does not need him to provide, but she loves writing so much, and it inspires Colin in his own writing as well. And I also think it's super cute that he was going through a writer's block until Penelope told him she's loved him for years and suddenly the gates were opened (granted, this was before the reveal but now imagine post-reveal, as he struggles to edit and write, Penelope comes up beside him telling him he's doing well and boom, he's determined to write again).

But, back to the topic at hand, most importantly... he offers her love and support, even through all this battle, he unconsciously kept caring for her, and that's what Penelope craves, just someone there for her.

And that? That Colin can absolutely be, and he will proudly take on the role of her husband rather than "the man".

So I think this about wraps it up! Colin is the definition of a sensitive man trying his best to tough it up, a third son who struggles to find a place in this world. But he found a woman who does not need him to be what he is not, the one woman who will love him not for what he can provide, but for who he truly is, kind and incredibly empathetic. The one woman who fell in love with him because she made him fall off a horse and instead of yelling because of a bruised ego, he laughed at his own expense.

And I just think Colin Bridgerton is neat.

Also as I hit post it's 2AM for me so if some of this doesn't make sense, that's why, don't hold it against me, thank you dear one <3