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the-lazy-cat-bakes-souffles · 4 months ago

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Who is the Antler Queen? A Theory Deep Dive

The identity of the Antler Queen has been a mystery at the heart of Yellowjackets since the pilot, and in the time since fans have speculated about many possible candidates. But there’s one in particular that’s been rapidly gaining traction in the fandom: that the Antler Queen is none other than everyone’s favourite lesbian ghost, Jackie Taylor. With the launch of Season 3 I wanted to delve deeper into the idea and why I think it would make perfect sense for the series, especially after the latest two episodes. Cork boards and post-its at the ready folks, this is gonna be a long one. And of course, spoilers.

I’ll start off by referring to this Vanity Fair article from 2023, which gives a succinct rundown of this theory. To summarise, it posits that the Antler Queen as an individual doesn’t exist, per se, and is instead a manifestation of the girls’ collective perception of ‘the Wilderness’. This would track with what’s been established in the show and how the Antler Queen has been framed thus far; as an esoteric, supernatural figure that haunts the narrative in a similar way to The Man with No Eyes in Tai’s storyline - or indeed, the figment of Jackie in Shauna’s. The Wilderness is already personified extensively by the girls owing to Lottie’s visions and the religion that sprouted around it, referred to as a sentient entity with a will of ‘its’ own.

This is where Jackie comes in. Jackie as a character, from the very beginning, is defined not by who she actually is or was, but by how she is perceived - by both herself and those around her. Jackie is the first character we’re formally introduced to in Yellowjackets, and the scene is centred on her performative pleasure for her boyfriend Jeff while looking utterly miserable. We immediately cut to her aggressively brushing her teeth before clutching her iconic heart necklace with a forlorn expression. Her reflection is split across several mirrors, symbolising her fractured self and the many roles she plays, none of which are a truly accurate representation of Jackie the person.

The smitten high school girlfriend (who can’t stand her boyfriend), the queen bee who has it all (who is unfulfilled and lost when nobody's looking), the charismatic soccer captain (who is constantly undermined by her team), the self-centred, stifling best friend (who loves Shauna more than anything). Later she’s the pariah (who was one of the few remaining voices of reason), the first sacrifice (who never believed), the dearly departed teenage girl who so loved rabbits (she was indifferent to them at best). In death, as in life, Jackie is forever condemned to be what others make of her. That’s the inherent tragedy of the character, to never be truly known, to be an idea more than an individual.

Secondly, Jackie is often described as the embodiment of civilisation’s values in Yellowjackets, but she is also the unwitting architect of the Wilderness’ new status quo. Out of everyone, it was Jackie who committed the first act of brutality after they crashed: leaving Van to burn alive to save Shauna. This was long before anyone had descended into savagery, and set a precedent for the Yellowjackets as a whole. Although her intention was to grasp onto some semblance of normality and bolster team morale, Jackie also sowed the seeds of the spiritual practices they would go on to adopt. It was Jackie who organised the séance, in doing so triggering everyone’s first exposure to forces beyond their understanding as Lottie is seemingly possessed by the spirit of Dead Cabin Guy. It was Jackie who came up with the idea of Doomcoming where, with the help of some hallucinogenic shrooms, the girls surrendered to their most primal selves and attempted to ritually sacrifice Travis. And of course, Jackie’s death is a paradigm shift where the old order crumbles to make way for a new one - and so passes the glory of the world.

After her death, Jackie continues to be a catalyst for the Wilderness’ machinations. She is the first person to be cannibalised, marking a point of no return for the Yellowjackets. Unlike the bleak horror of eating Javi, Jackie’s consumption is a heightened, ritualistic affair, presented as a bacchanal feast - a religious festival. In one of the rare cases of the camera assuming the perspective of the Wilderness, the wind rushes through the pines, blowing the snow perfectly onto Jackie’s funeral pyre and cooking her corpse. As the starving Yellowjackets congregate around her charred body later that night, Shauna says, “She wants us to.”

Jackie is portrayed posthumously in much the same way as the Wilderness itself: even though she has no voice, a will is ascribed to her. It’s important that Shauna is the one leading this. Although she doesn’t buy into the mysticism like Lottie and many of the other Yellowjackets, Shauna instead envisions Jackie as her personal saint (“They were all so tragic”) and tormentor. There is every possibility that this season, either spearheaded by Shauna or in spite of her, ‘Jackie’ will become the figure the Yellowjackets worship, too.

Lastly, there’s a heavy amount of foreshadowing and symbolism lending to Jackie as the Antler Queen. The obvious being that she was the Yellowjackets’ team captain. As the Vanity Fair article points out, Coach Martinez’ words to her in the pilot could well be more than dramatic irony: “You possess something no one else on this team has: influence. When things get tough out there, those girls are going to need someone to guide them.” We even see this called back to in ‘It Girl’ when Lottie says, “We call to Jackie, now with the Wilderness. Guide us.”

Then there’s the vision Jackie experiences before she dies, surrounded by doting teammates expressing their admiration, cloaked in a blanket beneath the antlers suspended above the cabin’s hearth. It’s all she ever truly wanted, to be loved and seen for who she was. How tragically poetic, then, would it be for her to finally receive the adoration she craved in death as a bastardised and diefied version of herself.

And of course, there’s the necklace. To Jackie it was a symbol of protection and her love for Shauna, but we know that it ultimately comes to be worn by those ‘chosen’ to be hunted by the Wilderness. Shauna initiated this with Nat, who continues to wear it after being crowned the first leader of the survivors. This practice of being marked for leadership or death by the necklace is an extension of Jackie becoming mythologised by Shauna and the rest of the Yellowjackets. Again, the line between ‘the Wilderness’ and ‘Jackie’ is blurred.

Let’s look at the show’s promotional material, a lot of which heavily features Jackie throughout the series. The main poster for the first season features a dirty and dishevelled Jackie sporting a bloody nose while a single yellowjacket wasp perches on her cheek. What’s often missed, however, is the reflection of the Antler Queen in her left eye. This symbolises Jackie as a victim h(a)unted by the Wilderness, but it could mean something even deeper than that: the living, real Jackie could be staring at a dark mirror of herself.

A poster for the second season again features Jackie’s face, only this time that of her frozen corpse. Here there are two yellowjackets perched on her lips, and she’s wearing her heart necklace.

Another poster for Season 2 depicts the Antler Queen standing ominously in the snow. She’s wearing a Yellowjackets varsity jacket, cuffed jeans, a sweater, and a pair of sneakers. While some details are different (the sweater being black instead of striped and the sneakers being pink instead of white), the basic outfit bears a striking resemblance to the clothes Jackie was wearing when she died.

A teaser video for the third season shows a dirty skull carved with the Wilderness symbol. Three yellowjackets buzz around it, and Jackie’s necklace hangs from its right eye socket. In this context, it’s safe to assume that this is Jackie’s skull, especially as we know that the girls retrieved and buried her bones offscreen between seasons. We’ve already seen Shauna tamper with and project onto Jackie’s remains, and it isn’t that far-fetched to see them repurposed in that way once again.

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Finally, let’s look at the recently released poster depicting the Yellowjackets dancing around a fire. Note how all of the main girls are here, including Nat, Lottie, and Shauna (the main living candidates). The implication here is that the Queen’s identity can’t be attributed to any single one of them. Maybe it’s a rotating role, but it also lends credence to this idea of the Queen being a construct. There are three skulls burning in the fire, representing those of the fallen - Javi, Jackie and Shauna’s child (Laura Lee and Crystal’s remains aren’t exactly accessible, after all). From the flames rises the figure of the Antler Queen: symbolically, she is born from the remains of the dead, and she’s burning just as Jackie burned on the pyre.

With all of this in mind, I think there’s plenty of solid evidence to suggest that Jackie’s bones could end up being repurposed into some sort of effigy, mounted on a stick, adorned with locks of hair and a veil fashioned from a soccer net, and crowned with a pair of antlers. Jackie would finally lead the Yellowjackets in a way she never could while alive.

In conclusion, despite her death relatively early in the series, Jackie’s presence looms large over Yellowjackets. She remains an integral part of its iconography, its themes, and Shauna’s character (the closest the show has to a de facto protagonist). After her agency, body, and legacy have been repeatedly consumed, appropriated, and warped throughout the series, it would be a natural evolution for the Yellowjackets to fully transform everything Jackie was in making her their idol for the Wilderness. It’s human nature to anthropomorphise what we don’t fully understand, to give it a face and a name. It’s also human nature to deflect the responsibility for monstrous acts to avoid looking at the monster within ourselves. For most of the characters, this is the Antler Queen. But Shauna will only ever be able to see the girl she loved, the embodiment of her guilt. Perhaps, somehow, the true Jackie will finally find a way to reclaim her agency and personhood through that. There is no ‘it’ there’s only ‘us’. But is there really a difference?

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers #yellowjackets season 3 #jackie taylor #antler queen #yellowjackets season 3 spoilers #antler queen jackie #shauna shipman #lottie matthews #jackieshauna #meta #yellowjackets theories #just posting my wild theory here as well #I have more to say but I’ll make a follow-up post because this is long enough already

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covenha · 7 months ago

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Synopsis: seonghwa harnesses the power of manifestation to get himself a girlfriend. Pairings: Simp!seonghwa x fem! reader Genre: crack, fluff, just seonghwa being a silly goofy guy Warnings: witchcraft technically? astrology is also mentioned WC: 1577 a/n: another self-indulgent fic is done! wrote this after i finished an exam so read at your own risk. i might right more bonus blurbs for this but who knows. this is a piece of fiction so it does not reflect who the characters are irl. please read the warnings carefully! and as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated 🫶

Simp!hwa had been content with silently pining over you. That is until one day he asked for a sign from the universe if he should confess. He was walking down the streets of his neighborhood while on his way to school with a little skip in his step, excited to see you. He was nearing Mrs. Nesbit’s house, an old lady with a splotchy memory but a kind heart. He stops to wave at her as she sways back and forth on the rocking chair on her porch. Then, as if she read his mind she goes, “Hurry up or you’ll miss it!”

Was this it? Was this the universe finally telling him to shoot his shot with you and confess his profound love for you?

Well, the answer was no. Mrs. Nesbit was referring to the bus two blocks away ready to leave Seonghwa’s delusional ass behind. But it’s fine. He didn’t really care. All he really cared about was figuring out how to get you to fall in love with him so that you guys grow old together and live out your best lives with your two cats and moss ball babies.

Now, Seonghwa knew that he had to approach this from a proactive standpoint. Sure, you and him have been friends since both of your awkward emo teen phases but he really wanted to cement in his chances with you. So he turned to the one place he knew he could get somewhat decent love advice from; Reddit. And with the wise words of Wefishyfishy98 he knew what he had to do. If he really wanted this he needed to use the power of manifestation.

Simp!hwa wore your hair tie on his hand with pride. He read somewhere on twitter that girls liked to “mark their territory” with things like this and he grew weak at the knees thinking about you staking your claim on him. (Of course, in a completely normal and non-a/b/o kind of way.) I mean isn’t this such a boyfriend thing to do? He was clearly using the power of manifestation or whatever that fish guy said on Reddit.

And this is why, when summer grew closer and the weather grew warmer, Seonghwa absolutely did not want to return it to you.

“Hwa, C’mon it’s hot and I don’t want my hair sticking to my neck.”

“Look, I can get you a new set of hair ties! Here, look at these cute ones I found on Etsy.” He tried to distract you with some cute kuromi hair ties he just found. Jongho is just silently observing the interaction between the both of you.

You found it weird that he refused to give it to you even after you pestered him to but you decided to just give up and tough it out. And those ties on Etsy were kinda cute.

“Fine. I guess the weather isn’t so bad today. What are you even doing on Etsy anyway?” you try to take a peak at whatever Seonghwa is looking up on his phone to which he quickly turns it off and puts it screen down on the table.

“Nothing!” You seem a little taken aback by this. “Just… looking for plants for my… aquarium.”

“You mean your aquarium filled with moss balls… a plant. You want to get plants for your plants?” you blink at him.

“Technically they’re algae.” Jongho butts in.

“Right…. Well, at least you’re passionate about your moss balls?” you trail off.

Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief as Jongho nods on to you changing the topic to something about your mother’s extensive cacti collection. He opens up his phone again and clicks the order on his Etsy cart.

“I hope this works.” He thinks to himself.

That same night, Seonghwa started wracking his brain trying to think of something else that he could do that was “boyfriend coded”. And after much deliberation while staring at the ceiling, it finally hits him. She should be my lock screen! I mean nothing screams boyfriend like a cute candid picture as my lock screen.

So, with this in mind, he scrounges through his gallery looking for a good photo of you to put as his lock screen. Then he spots the perfect candid of you in his living room sitting on the floor with lego pieces scattered all around the floor trying to assemble his lego death star with him. You aren’t looking at the camera, instead you look completely locked in on building the superweapon of the Empire with him. He stares at the image with a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Without even realizing it he’s smiling like an idiot at his screen and he buries his head on his pillow and screams into it while kicking his feet on his mattress.

That night he dreams of a distant future with you. One where he can call you his. Oh, and of course you can’t forget your two cats Lily and Bongo, and his ever growing collection of marimo balls.

A week and a half later, he’s checking his phone every few minutes and then looking at the front door waiting to see if the delivery truck has arrived. Today was your birthday and the gift that he had bought you was running dangerously late. Which is why when he hears a truck nearing the property he all but zooms off the living room couch and to the front door. He accepts the package from the delivery man and quickly unboxes it.

“It’s perfect.” he thought, smiling to himself as he delicately put it in a bag.

Later that day, as he walks you home just in time for you to have dinner with your family he surprises you with the gift.

“Wha- Hwa? I thought we weren’t doing gifts this year?” you say as you accept the small paper bag from him.

“Well, I saw this and I just couldn’t not get it for you.” he just smiles at you shyly as you look at him, surprised at the gesture.

“Now, I have to get you a gift worth two birthdays next year.” you joke.

“You’re the best gift life has to offer.” he thinks. But he shakes his head, a dumb smile on his face. “Open it.” he motions to the gift.

You open and find a couple kuromi hair ties, just as promised. But also, a jewelry box with a bracelet inside. It had a dainty gold chain and a baby pink stone in the middle.

“Hwa, I love it.” you smile at him. “It’s so pretty.” you inspect the bracelet.

“Here, let me put it on you.” he gets the bracelet from the box and clamps it around your wrist. He smiles at the sight of you wearing the bracelet.

He unfortunately had to leave because it was getting dark and he had to feed his cat at home. But, he swears he feels something in the air that night.

“Please work.” He mumbles to himself.

In hindsight, what Seonghwa felt that fateful night was probably just pollen, because the very next day Seonghwa finds Jongho coming down with a bad case of allergy sniffles. The cafeteria is filled with the sounds of chattering from hungry sleep-deprived college students and Jongho’s sneezes.

“So, did you finally give her that rose quartz bracelet you bought from that Etsy witch?” Seonghwa’s cheeks burn at his words.

“Yea. It was a good time too. Venus was in mercury gatorade or something.” he mumbles while picking at the skin on his thumb.

“Ahem.” You startle both boys with your presence. You raise your eyebrows at both of them and decide to end their misery of staring at you with their mouths open in shock. “What’s this about an Etsy witch?”

“I do not recall saying Etsy witch.” Jongho mumbles quickly then packs up his things, muttering some excuse about buying a gatorade from the vending machine. Seonghwa just sits there, mouth agape, trying to stutter out some excuse but nothing coherent falls from his mouth.

“Hwa, you know you didn’t have to summon the forces of magic and astrology to make me fall in love with you right? I kinda already am.” You blush as you admit your feelings for your best friend.

Simp!hwa’s brain malfunctions hearing this. Heart pounding, mind racing. Did she just... Did she just say that? She likes me? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. What now?! I didn’t actually think I would get this far. Shit what happens next. Do I shake her hand? No, that would be weird. Just say something, Seonghwa! Say something!

“Will you be my manifested girlfriend?” he asks in a dazed voice. This makes you giggle before you shake your head then decide to kiss him on the nose. “It’s about time.”

Seonghwa wastes no time in going in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off in the background (it was just Jongho having a massive sneezing fit). The moment was perfect. It was magical. You guys stare into each other’s eyes and it felt like all was right with the world. As the both of you pull away from the kiss, Jongho sits down at the table with a purple gatorade.

“You know it's actually mercury retrograde, right?”

#ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez hours #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez scenarios #ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa au #park seonghwa au #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa blurbs #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa hours

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glassrowboat · 7 months ago

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Lights! Camera! Headcanons! Reca.

SFW collection of silly HCs!

- Little Miss Frog is only ever oiled by Reca. He doesn't trust anyone else to be as thorough with her joints as he is.

- Reca has multiple hats for his favorite assistant director, it's just the one we see her wearing all the time is her favorite

- If for some reason you ever needed to switch shoes with Reca, he would gladly do so. After all, what kind of love interest would he be if he couldn't even do that much? The only problem is that he looks better in your heels than you ever have.

- He has a pair of shades with a print of old TV static on the lenses. They are not practical at all but he still uses them.

- This man does not know the meaning of the word subtlety

- You're getting atrocious petnames 24/7, to the point you even begin to think he's forgotten your actual name. It's always love muffin this, honey bear that- and if you ever jokingly refer to yourself as one of them it might as well become a part of Reca’s daily vocabulary.

- He has had multiple people in the past pointing a remote at him to see if they could pause the YouTube play button in his eyes. Now, whenever he sees someone holding one close to him, Reca just snatches it because he's that fed up.

- The button can change, but he's never telling you how it works.

- “The mystery only compels you further to my character, sweetie pie.”

- Please do not trust this man with cooking. He's more of an order in kind of guy and trust that that's preferable over letting him near a stove, oven, or even a microwave on some days. However, he will set the table and clean the dishes for you- it just might take a while because he's busy editing a script.

- Has picked up tons of little facts over the years from all the research he's put behind films. You could ask the most random questions and he'll undoubtedly have an answer- even if it concerns you how he knows how to dispose of a full body.

- On that note, Reca knows a good handful of the meanings behind names, so when someone introduces themselves to him, he usually ends up deciding if that “meaning” fits their character.

- Usually, it doesn't.

- Aka: Crew members

- It's easier that way.

- Those who are a regular part of his filming crew all carry earplugs with them now as a habit after having to listen to Reca's …excited shouting.

- He disapproves of relationships amongst the cast. There's always going to be issues working with people, but he doesn't need the entire film getting pushed aside because one couple had a fight! It’s utterly nonsensical to bring that onto his set. Save that for after everything has wrapped up.

- Anyone listen to Distractible and Markiplier’s entire stunt with lenses? Reca's worse. That's your only warning.

- After your first kiss, when Reca was walking back home, all self accomplished, he jumped up and cracked his feet together- completely unironically. He's not even ashamed about it, either.

- If Reca didn't start on Broadway as part of the crew, then he at least had some experience with it. (He was the theater kid in school). He knows a good couple of songs off the top of his head at this point, and when this one particular song comes on, he always has to stop himself from dancing.

- Owns a gramophone, but it only works half the time. Reca claims it's part of its charm….

- You've watched him mix redbull and coffee together only to drink it all down in a single sitting, then walk away without an explanation. That entire night he was yapping in your ear excitedly only to fall asleep on top of you as soon as it hit 4am.

- Reca tends to repeat the stories he's told you. He just loves them so much that he gets a little ahead of himself and forgets which ones he's shared, that's all. Plus, with his flair for the dramatic and tendency to add in a new line or two, it keeps things fresh.

- Reca affectionately pinches your nose using that baby voice of his. It’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture, in his own way, but it just comes across as annoying.

- Reca will pick you up and spin you around (just like the movies) but at the same time this man will happily let himself flop into your lap with a hand to his forehead so he can lament to you about his woes. Usually, this just means he wants attention.

- He gets busy with filming a lot, to the point you both can go up to a month without really getting anything more in than a one minute call. Usually, Reca is running around during these, or he's so close to passing out after a long day that you're left with the sound of him snoring on the other end of the line.

- Because he's famous, there are actually a good couple of edits and images of Reca made into memes you see when scrolling online.

- His handwriting is comically large. To the point it takes up so much space, Reca might as well be writing a signature instead of scrawling down notes to ensure he doesn't forget a fantastic idea.

- He writes his 7's with that little line crossing it.

- Reca is the type to grab your shoulder while he's laughing. And he does this whether you know him well or not.

#reca #mr reca #hoyoverse #x reader #banner by cafekitsune #fem reader #gn reader #mr reca x reader #reca x reader #reca x you #reca x y/n #honkai sr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #headcanons #/glasshc

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starsofang · 8 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Dove,” a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.

You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.

Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.

Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.

“The one who heals the ill and poor,” Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. “The one who has the 141 in knots. That’s you, isn’t it, dove?”

You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasn’t there physically, hell, you weren’t sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.

The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“Oh, this will be fun,” he cooed. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Stood frozen in place, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with — like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.

“What are ye doin’ down there, dove?” a voice called. “Looks like ye seen a ghost.”

The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crow’s nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.

“I am fine,” you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. “What are you doing up there?”

“She’s a crow’s nest for a reason. I’m watchin’ for the storm, seein’ if I can spot anythin’ out of the ordinary like I’m a bird, birdie” Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. “What are ye doin’ down there?”

You frowned at him, unamused. “I plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,” you replied. “I’m just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.”

Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. “If I have any more knowledge up in this noggin’ of mine, it might explode.” He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.

“I do not believe there is much in there at all,” you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t deny the way Soap put you at ease.

“Ach, yer a bird that bites. What happened to bein’ a sweet bird?” he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.

Your smile grew and you shook your head. “Where is Ghost?” you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.

“That lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weather’s makin’ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goin’ back, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.

It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.

You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didn’t have.

“I see,” you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. “I am… happy that he has someone like you.”

Soap’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. “Ah, c’mon, dove. Ye got us, too.”

Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.

You weren’t sure what you desired, anyway.

“Right,” you agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll be going now. Please, do not fall while I’m gone — or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.”

Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. “Mean li’l bird,” he teased.

With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.

Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadn’t quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.

“Hello, Gaz,” you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soap’s clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.

“Dove,” Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.

The resources you’d been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited for—yet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.

You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejection—it was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.

Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.

What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?

“Is someone hurt?”

You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. “No. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.”

So much for avoiding him.

“Is that so?” he asked. You weren’t sure why his tone seemed so… off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.

You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.

Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.

You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.

When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.

Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.

“Are you avoidin’ me?” he asked lowly.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldn’t take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else he’d know.

“No,” you stammered, frowning. “I am just— Price is waiting for me.”

Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your fault—you had never shared one.

“There is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,” he commented.

“I am looking at you right now,” you defended weakly.

“What you’re doin’ is actin’ different,” he said slyly, mirroring your frown. “What, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?”

“That—” You inhaled sharply. “That is not what is happening.”

“So, I have read them right, then.”

“I do not know what signs you are referring to.”

“Don’t be daft, dove.”

Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.

“It is improper to refer to a woman as daft,” you hissed in defense.

“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.

This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.

“You have never been kissed before?” he continued.

Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.

“That is inappropriate, Gaz,” you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. “I must return to Price. I—I cannot have this conversation.”

“You will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,” he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. “Do not make me the one to suffer.”

You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.

The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.

The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.

You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.

You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.

“I will not avoid you,” you muttered quietly. “I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.”

You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.

The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Price’s quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.

The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasn’t a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.

When you looked up at the crow’s nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.

“You took quite some time,” Price noted as you stepped inside. “Did you walk the plank along your way?”

You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. “I ran into Soap,” you explained.

“I see.” Price smiled in acknowledgment. “Alright, dove. Let’s begin, hm?”

“You are not very good at this.”

You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you weren’t looking.

“That’s why you’re the expert, dove,” he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. “I do not see how this will become a paste.”

“Did you mix in the drops of water like I told you?” you asked.

He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.

“Was I correct?” you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.

“Silence,” he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. “I pray this medicine proves to be useful.”

“It is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,” you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. “I am sure it will come in handy.”

Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snort—a Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.

“It is not bad,” you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. “Much better after the water.”

He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gaz’s room was feeling crowded.

“I am only teasing,” you said with a smile. “It’s almost as good as mine.”

Price snorted, smiling back. “Aye, I’m a Captain, not a medic. That’s your specialty,” he retorted.

“And will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?”

He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. “Are the boys not fun to room with?”

Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. “No, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not… suitable.”

Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.

“That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roomin’ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,” he replied thoughtfully.

“You forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,” you reminded him.

Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.

“Would you prefer to stay here, then?” he asked. “You may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.”

You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.

Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.

“You would not mind?” you asked wearily.

Price shrugged. “I may prefer it, actually.”

Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. He’d prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?

You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.

“You’d prefer it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why?”

The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.

The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.

You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadn’t noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.

“The storm’s brewin’ real fast, Cap,” Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He must’ve climbed down the nest in a haste. “We need to get her steady. It’s comin’ down faster than we thought.”

The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. “Go collect Gaz and Ghost,” he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. “Dove, you’re stayin’ here.”

“I must be of help—”

“Here,” he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. “That’s an order.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.

Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envy—it was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.

You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.

“Dove.”

The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.

You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.

You couldn’t sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.

The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.

Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.

Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.

The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.

“Isn’t this fun, dove?” Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.

You knew he was near. Before, you couldn’t feel his presence—now, it felt stronger than ever.

You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldn’t be able to see him from below.

Your eyes landed on the crow’s nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.

Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.

“Dove?” Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. “Dove! What are ye doin’?”

You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldn’t chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.

“What the hell is she doin’ out?” Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.

The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.

The pirate’s voices grew farther away as you approached the crow’s nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.

You needed to know if your thoughts were true—if Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.

You stood on the crow’s nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any sign—and there it was.

A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldn’t see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.

Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.

632 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 2 years ago

Note

Could you do a smau where she’s max’s sister and dominating MotoGP the way max is f1. Maybe they have the typical annoying younger sister/protective big brother relationship and he finds out she’s dating one of the f1 drivers? Xx

cherry lip balm | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x motogp!verstappen!reader

the verstappen siblings run motorsport, but the youngest's f1 allegiances may belong elsewhere

f1 and motogp

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1,405,466 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername

f1 and motogp: happy international siblings day to max and y/n verstappen, these two have 60 wins between them 🏆

view all comments

user1: my faves i love them

user2: the way jos wasn't gonna let them kids do anything else lol

yourusername: + victoria verstappen the patron saint who puts up with both of us love you 🥰

maxverstappen: you mean putting up with you ? i'm a mature man of the world now

yourusername: girl you are fussier than all of our nephews put together mature MY ASS

maxverstappen1: i am mature and i have BOUNDARIES

yourusername: yeah you have boundaries between all your food you bland man

victoriaverstappen: i think you just proved y/n right

user3: they are the most unhinged people ever i feel so bad for victoria lol

user4: patiently waiting for y/n's championship

marcmarquez93: no marquez representation?

yourusername: you need to serve more

maxverstappen1: you guys don't have the verstappen sass

user5: someone needs to stop them 😭

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 832,771 others

yourusername: the two sides of a race week

view all comments

user6: the way she won this race and was like yeah i need that 0.5 of me drinking coffee actually

yourusername: it's a hot chocolate cause i'm a child

user7: are we all collectively ignoring the whole ass man on the last slide?

maxverstappen1: no we're not Y/N Y/M/N VERSTAPPEN CALL ME THIS INSTANT

yourusername: calm it on the all caps and maybe i'll call you

maxverstappen1: MAYBE?

yourusername: well that's not making it any better maxie

user8: i can't loose this parasocial relationship y/n get that man's hands off of you now

landonorris: y/n please pick up max's call he's threatening to throw my monza trophy PLEASE PICK UP I DON'T HAVE THAT MANY TROPHIES

yourusername: please refer to my previous comment about all caps and then come back

landonorris: y/n may you please call your beloved brother back so my very limited trophy collection does not get destroyed

yourusername: sure just for you lando ❤️

maxverstappen1: STOP FLIRTING PLEASE

yourusername: i just picked up ... and ur still commenting (plus that's not lando in the pic btw he's too skinny to be him)

landonorris: why am i getting bullied by both verstappens today, i'm just trying to help :(

maxverstappen1

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,034,661 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: there's no party like a verstappen party and a verstappen-only party with no BOYFRIENDS because they don't exist :)

view all comments

user14: ahaha passive aggressive max is my fave

yourusername: just cause you're too much of a pussy to ask charles out so i can't have a boy friend?

maxverstappen1: what?

yourusername: what?

user15: max as overprotective brother is my new favourite thing

danielricciardo: i fear y/n is 22 years old and her own woman

yourusername: awwww thanks danny at least one man here has SENSE

maxverstappen1: how much did she pay you to comment that?

danielricciardo: she didn't pay me but my house plant currently at hers was being held at gun point

yourusername: i would never

danielricciardo: so i can delete my comment

yourusername: do that and sheila gets it

user16: i know we should be more concerned with max going insane, but daniel's choice of name for his house plant is the most pressing issue

user17: hear me out but for comedic purposes ... i need y/n's bf to be a driver

maxverstappen1: do not speak that into the universe

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 808,943 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: i like the taste of her cherry lip balm

view all comments

user22: what 😭 the 😭 fuck 😭

yourusername: you don't taste half bad either ;)

oscarpiastri: come back to bed

maxverstappen1: NO NO NO STOP RIGHT THERE OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING DON'T SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER

oscarpiastri: how do you know my middle name?

maxverstappen1: i called your mum, anyhow YOU ARE A DEAD MAN

oscarpiastri: how did you get my mum's number?

maxverstappen1: i'm trying to threaten you please stop asking questions

yourusername: maxy please stop trying to be scary i know you still wear footy pjamas at christmas

maxverstappen1: well i hope oscar is terrified by my christmas spirit

user23: i feel like i lose brain cells watching y/n and max talk to each other

user24: we ignoring the fact that max managed to get oscar's mum's number just to ask for his middle name PETTY KING

maxverstappen1: it was more than a middle name, i needed a character witness

yourusername: CHARACTER WITNESS? YOU WORK WITH HIM? YOUR BEST FRIEND IS HIS TEAMMATE?

maxverstappen1: i understand you are making points and no one has a bad word to say about him ... but i've got to stick to the bit now

oscarpiastri: so i'm not going to die in hungary?

maxverstappen1: no. but keep all your business to yourself, i don't need to know what lip balm my sister uses and that you own a bed

oscarpiastri: got it 🫡

user25: well that was dramatic

maxverstappen1

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,203,788 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

maxverstappen1: congrats on your first podium in f1 oscar, welcome to the family i guess ... don't take photos on my phone every again

view all comments

user28: so we can all say oscar has max's approval now?

user29: mans was like wow he challenged me in the race he has the stamp of approval now

yourusername: jokes on you we look great @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: and what the people don't know is that max was also doing face masks with us

maxverstappen1: not the serve you think it is i am very secure in my masculinity

yourusername: i'm glad you've gotten over your weird older brother act ... does this mean you'll both come to my next race?

oscarpiastri: i'll be there :)

maxverstappen1: i guess

yourusername: whooooooooop finally

user30: the way i am so happy for oscar i feel like i've been on this journey with him

user31: honestly rookie of the year and it's not even close

user30: i was talking about him and max... but yeah he's doing great !!!

landonorris: can i also get a pass for your next race y/n for keeping it a secret?

maxverstappen1: WHAT

yourusername: ur so dumb i actually can't

oscarpiastri: i'm not helping you here dude i just got approval

landonorris: well now i regret helping you guys

maxverstappen1: open your door lando

user32: is he dead?

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,348,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri

yourusername: fifth win of the season, my family and the love of my life, what could be better

view all comments

user33: i feel like the shit storm of max and oscar has defo distracted us from the fact that f1 and motogp fans are suffering through a verstappen winning nearly every race

maxverstappen1: i want everyone to appreciate my character growth as i took that gross ass last photo

yourusername: thank you maxy, what a sacrifice

oscarpiastri: thanks dude, you did push me in the water right after though

maxverstappen1: uh you snooze you lose, a verstappen rule of life, you had no phone on you so fair game, i thought you wanted to be part of this family

oscarpiastri: I DO ... does this mean i can push you in next time?

maxverstappen1: absolutely not.

yourusername: do it anyway osc i'll protect you babe

oscarpiastri: idk i'm scared

yourusername: he's ticklish he's so easy to beat

maxverstappen1: THAT WAS A SECRET Y/N

user34: if you told me last season that i'd see max go from wanting to kill piastri to being brothers with him and that i'd know he wears footy pjs and is ticklish i'd laugh in ur face

maxverstappen1: ONLY AT CHRISTMAS

oscarpiastri: don't worry mate i think it's cute

maxverstappen1: okay now i prefer you over y/n

yourusername: who? what? where? when? why?

oscarpiastri: soz babe you snooze you lose

note: ahhhhh i really enjoyed writing this so i hope you enjoy i love writing comment domestics if you couldn't tell lol xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

5K notes · View notes

wilwheaton · 11 months ago

Quote

This theory from investigators suggests not simply that Crooks profile matched the sociology and ideation of school/mass shooters but perhaps that he was quite literally planning a mass shooting and the Trump rally, which was announced ten days in advance, simply provided a ready venue for it. I confess even I have some difficulty quite getting my head around this idea. But there it is. And it suggests that rather than some climate of persecution by which “they” – some fuzzy reference to the vast collective of Trump opposition – tried to kill him, as Republicans are now universally claiming, Trump may have fallen victim to the mass shooting/school shooting culture gun rights activists have done so much to foster.

Mass Shooter/School Shooter Theory Gets Some New Proponents

This is what almost exactly what I’ve thought since we found out who the shooter was.

He’s a standard issue right wing stochastic terrorist.

He’s exactly the kind of person Trump and his cult quietly support and hope to create more of, to terrorize the rest of us into silence.

The right wing lunatics just never stopped to consider that one of these guys, who they have worked to hard to create, enable, and protect, would turn the gun back on them.

Violence is never okay. All violence does is create more violence. And there is one group of people in America who consistently call for, and celebrate violence.

They are, of course, very shocked Pikachu right now.

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starcurtain · 11 months ago

Text

Fact Checking Some Myths About Aventurine and the IPC

Especially in light of Jade's new myriad celestia trailer and the reveal of the other Stonehearts, I've seen a ton of wild claims about Aventurine--particularly how he's an unwilling member of the Stonehearts and needs to be saved from the IPC--that just aren't sitting right with me because they're based significantly more on the fanon take that Aventurine is an "innocent victim" than any actual evidence displayed in the game. So I wanted to take the time to collect some in-game evidence to see if we can sort out what Aventurine's actual relationship to the IPC is. Time to do some fact checking--this is a long one, buckle up!

Claim #1: Aventurine was sentenced to die by the IPC.

Verdict: There's no actual evidence that Aventurine was ever sentenced to anything.

This entire idea that Aventurine was actually successfully sentenced to die by the IPC comes from two pieces of "evidence" in the game. First, the scene with Dr. Ratio where those words are stated:

Leaving aside whether the IPC legally has the right to sentence anyone to anything by themselves (they're a corporation, not an actual governing body), this is the exact line that Dr. Ratio fans have been bending over backward to prove is "just an act" and that Ratio would never actually mean this (because if he actually meant this, it would make him pretty racist). So if we've already busted our asses to prove this line isn't true and was just Ratio and Aventurine acting... why would we be using this line as evidence that Aventurine was actually sentenced to anything?

We can't say "This entire scene was an act because Sunday/the Family was listening in!" and then go "Okay, but this one part is definitely true (despite there not being any other evidence in game to corroborate the statement)." Either this scene is acting, and this line isn't true--or the line is true, and Ratio's kind of a racist. Make up your minds, people. 😂

Actually, I can help make up your mind. We can prove that this line is likely a strong part of Aventurine and Ratio's deliberate act because Ratio's comment (which took place in 2.0) doesn't actually make any sense once Aventurine's story is fully revealed (in 2.1).

Ratio relates Aventurine's slave brand to the IPC, suggesting that the brand is proof that Aventurine is "doomed" and "sentenced to die by the IPC." Ratio even goes so far to say "Or was it from the Amber Lord himself?"

But from 2.1, we know that Aventurine's brand had nothing to do with the IPC, and his former slave owner was definitely not an IPC employee (as he refers to the IPC the same as Aventurine's sister did, "the guys in black").

Aventurine's brand came from being owned by a non-IPC-affiliated slaver--it had nothing to do with the Stonehearts or even Oswaldo Schneider.

So Ratio's entire comment linking the brand to the IPC makes no sense, and therefore his statement that the brand marks Aventurine as a "doomed Sigonian thrall sentenced to die by the IPC" also makes no sense.

Instead, I would argue that this line is a perfect example of the kind of exaggerated acting that Ratio and Aventurine were doing specifically to make the eavesdropping Family see Aventurine as an easy target. With this line, Ratio is emphasizing that Aventurine is a sitting duck without his Cornerstone, that he'll be weak and helpless--and that no one in the IPC will come help him, because they've already sentenced him to die. This is Ratio deliberately baiting Sunday into thinking that Aventurine will be easy, isolated prey without his Cornerstone--which is exactly what Aventurine wanted Sunday to think.

This line, which comes from a scene that we've already established is a deliberate act to mislead someone, cannot be used as evidence of Aventurine's real situation within the IPC.

"But then what about the trial scene with Jade?!" I already hear people saying. "Aventurine was definitely going to be sentenced to death!"

I'm not arguing that death wasn't a possible option for Kakavasha initially; it's clear that committing severe enough crimes can earn you the death penalty in Star Rail's universe. But I think we need to take another good look at this scene and see what really happened here.

First, we need to clarify that this scene with Jade was not an actual trial. The scene begins with a broadcast which clarifies that the suspect in the "Egyhazo-Aventurine Fraud Case" was just caught, and the IPC are conducting investigations into the "motive of the suspect."

So Jade's scene with Aventurine is not an actual trial (I mean... Jade's not even legally a judge!); it's an investigation with the goal of determining why Kakavasha would have tried to scam the Intelligentsia Guild and IPC at Egyhazo.

We can confirm that this scene with Jade is not an actual trial because she is even says "We haven't been able to find you any defense [lawyer], so you perhaps will have to defend yourself."

To which Aventurine responds that he easily could defend himself from the charges--but that it's pointless to do so. Why? Because he never intends to get to a trial in the first place.

He's there to gamble with Diamond (who he asks to see right on the spot, indicating that he's done his research in advance and knows who the head honcho he needs to talk to is). Instead, Jade says that he'll have to gamble with her, to which he agrees, and lays down his terms.

(He even says "I bet you won't send me to the gallows." We know that Kakavasha always wins his bets--he bet she won't send him off to a trial to be executed, and he once again won his bet!)

Jade, known for picking out "unpolished stones with great potential" and promoting them into positions of power to extract their value, agrees immediately, and literally tells Kakavasha to go change his clothes right then and there. She really said "I like your confidence; you're hired on the spot."

So... This was not a trial, Kakavasha never went on trial, and because he never went on trial, we have zero evidence in-game that he was ever sentenced to anything.

The IPC doesn't give a shit about the murder of some no-name slaver (I mean come on, think of how many other murders they've covered up at this point--do you really think they're holding one past murder of a no-name NPC over Aventurine's head years later?).

They might give a shit about the money they lost on Kakavasha's schemes, but Jade's entire schtick is one of equivalence--having Kakavasha join the IPC as a Stoneheart means he will ultimately generate infinitely more wealth for them than his schemes ever cost them in the first place, and that's the central piece of Jade's statement in this scene:

Is Aventurine's whole role in the Stonehearts exploitative, focused on his endless ability to win bets and generate profit? YUP. But that's ALL the Stonehearts' goal at this point--he's not unique in being "exploited" for his value. One look at Topaz confirms that.

So, ultimately, we have no evidence that Kakavasha was ever sentenced for his crimes, let alone that he was sentenced to die specifically by the IPC.

Claim #2: The Stonehearts will execute Aventurine if he tries to leave or fails his mission(s).

Verdict: There's no actual evidence for this either, beyond the obvious that most people in a powerful enough position in an evil corporation probably can't just up and quit their jobs without consequences.

I've seen this idea that the Stonehearts are planning to execute Aventurine--either for his past crimes, for failing a mission, or for trying to leave the IPC--many, many places, and unfortunately, I really think people are reaching this conclusion strictly on "The IPC is evil" vibes alone.

The IPC is evil; they coerce nice people like Topaz to buying into lifelong contracts; they're colonizers and exploitative capitalists, so of course they would threaten to execute poor innocent Aventurine!

Look, I won't defend the IPC. They are evil. But post hoc, ergo proctor hoc--just because one thing is true, doesn't mean the other statement naturally follows.

Just because the IPC is evil and exploitative (and probably does kill people to shut them up) does not automatically mean they're out to execute Aventurine for the slightest mishap.

I've seen many people say "He was going to be executed for his past crimes, so what do you think will happen if he tries to leave the Stonehearts?" But A) We just established he never went to trial for those past crimes in the first place, so we have no idea if he would have actually been sentenced to death anyway, and B) We have no evidence in-game that any of Kakavasha's past crimes would be back on the table if he were to try to quit the IPC. This is literally just fanon, based on the vibes of the IPC being evil alone. Probably informed by Topaz's "lifelong contract" situation giving people the impression that everyone who works for the IPC has to have a lifelong contract.

What evidence do we have that Aventurine is not at-risk of being executed for screwing up a mission? I mean, Aventurine himself says it. When Jade first states that Aventurine might be punished for destroying a Cornerstone, the only two possible punishments he states are:

If execution was on the table, wouldn't that have been the first punishment Aventurine listed?

And Jade's myriad celestia trailer also states that the only punishment on the table is whether Aventurine will be expelled from the Stonehearts:

And the biggest proof that execution isn't on the table?

The fact that Diamond himself agrees that Aventurine should not be punished even for the serious act of willingly breaking a Cornerstone. If Aventurine can do something as serious as breaking part of Qlipoth's will and body, something he was told to treasure more than his own life, and still get away with it... You can bet the IPC really does not give a shit about his old schemes anymore. Aventurine is way too valuable alive for them to be constantly threatening to kill him.

(But then what about Obsidian's statement that she wants a "bloodbath"? Surely that's evidence that he would have died if they voted against him?

First of all, "bloodbath" is a pretty common metaphorical term. I don't know about you, but any time people get into big drama at my work, this term comes up ["They were all talking shit; it was a total bloodbath"]. "Bloodbath" can mean any intense struggle; it's often not literal death.

However, I'm inclined in this case to say that the real reason Hoyo threw in this "bloodbath" line was just to double down on Obsidian's obvious vampire aesthetic. She's a "vampire." Duh, of course she needs to say something about blood. I think this line speaks more to establishing Obsidian's character as a violent, self-centered person than anything to do with Aventurine's actual situation.)

So, there is no actual evidence in the game that Aventurine is still being held accountable for his past crimes, or that the IPC is planning to execute him for messing up on a mission.

In fact, there are several pieces of evidence in the story suggesting the opposite, that multiple people, including the other Stonehearts, think he's kind of crazy for trying to get himself killed every mission he goes on.

When Aventurine was affected by the Harmony's power, the "future" Aventurine asks him this directly.

"Why does every one of your schemes put your own life at risk?" And players are told the answer to that isn't because of the IPC--it's not because the Stonehearts are out here forcing Aventurine to gamble with his life. When the "Future" Aventurine suggests Aventurine might be taking these risks because of the IPC, real Aventurine flat out says "You don't know me at all." He's not taking the risks for the IPC--he's taking them for himself.

Later, "Future" Aventurine even says that if Aventurine just used tactics like Opal's--which he claims Aventurine could easily do--then he would have been able to claim Penacony for the IPC without putting himself at risk at all. But Aventurine chose not to do that; he chose "death."

Because Aventurine is actually, at least slightly, suicidal. I don't personally think Aventurine would ever have turned a fully-loaded gun on himself and pulled the trigger, but he was actively seeking opportunities to die. Before Penacony ended, he was deliberately putting himself into situations where his life was at risk, taking unnecessary gambles with his life on the line--because then he would win either way. If he won the gamble, he would get whatever prize was promised, and if he lost the gamble, then he would have the "freedom" of death, to be reunited with his family. (It's important to note that the only time the word "freedom" is used in Aventurine's story through 2.1 is in direct reference to death--it is never used in reference to getting "free" from the IPC.)

Aventurine's plans were not self-destructive because of the IPC. They were self-destructive because he was self-destructive. And, in fact, multiple other members of the Stonehearts call out this behavior as a bad thing.

Jade describes Aventurine's ploy in Penacony as "overplaying his hand."

Topaz describes Aventurine's work habits as:

Then there's even Sugilite, who clocks Aventurine's suicidal tendency directly by stating that Aventurine's "death" scheme in Penacony wasn't for the IPC at all--it was entirely for himself.

If the Stonehearts were holding execution over Aventurine's head at all times, why would death be an "unnecessary [personal] extravagance"?

The takeaway from all the other Stonehearts' dialogue about Aventurine is that they actually think he goes too far and that his methods are more risky with his own life than they need to be.

Does that sound like a group of people who are planning to kill him on the drop of the hat?

Okay, okay, I can hear you saying "But that still doesn't mean he can leave the Stonehearts without consequences. They would kill him if he tried to leave."

To that I say: A) There's no actual in-game evidence for that statement; it's literally just "IPC is evil so they definitely would do this" vibes, but B) Is that statement really unique to Aventurine? Do you think Topaz could leave the Stonehearts without consequences? Do you think Jade could just fuck off and leave the IPC if she got the desire to?

It's pretty typical, I would think, that anyone who achieves a high-ranking in a stereotypical "evil capitalist mega-corporation" is not free to just abandon their high up position without consequences. The phrase "You know too much" comes to mind.

I'd argue that people are probably right--Aventurine probably could not leave the Stonehearts without something severe happening, at the very least a memory wipe--but that this is probably true of all the Stonehearts. They're too far up the chain. They know too much about the inner-workings of the literal planet-destroying world-domination company. They've had too much access to insider info to easily leave their positions.

Not being able to easily leave the position has nothing to do with Aventurine personally or his past crimes. It's just (at least likely) a basic fact of being too high up in the morally-grey-at-best super organization. (Well, then again, apparently no one even knows if Agate is dead or not, so maybe they actually don't even care lol.)

Claim #3: Aventurine didn't want to join the IPC; he's working with the IPC only because he's forced to.

Verdict: The game suggests in several places that Aventurine joined the IPC of his own free will. Whether he's still loyal to them is not 100% clear.

I think this is the biggest question mark I'm left with when reading other people's posts about Aventurine--this enduring idea that Aventurine never wanted to join the IPC and was only forced to do so because he was captured and death was his only other option.

But that is literally not what the game is telling us at all. The game tells us--in multiple places--that Aventurine orchestrated his own circumstances so that he could gain an audience with Diamond and win a position within the Stonehearts by his own gambles.

First, let's re-examine that scene with Jade. One of the first things Jade says is "What kind of person would come up with a scheme [the Egyhazo fraud] that doesn't benefit them in any way?"

The takeaway from this is that Kakavasha did not actually stand to gain anything from scamming the Intelligentsia Guild into digging for Tayzzyronth's remains in the desert at Egyhazo. All he achieved with this fraud was putting himself at risk of being caught by the IPC.

Does that sound like Aventurine to you? The guy whose mantra is literally:

So obviously, Aventurine stood to gain something from scamming the IPC at Egyhazo. What could he possibly have wanted to achieve by creating a scheme that seemingly didn't directly benefit him? Well, he says it himself:

Aventurine wanted to be brought before the IPC. He got caught on purpose. He once again gambled with his own life, betting that, instead of being put on trial for all his past crimes, he could convince Diamond (though it ended up being Jade) to invest in him. The game literally tells you, in multiple places, that Aventurine was taking another one of his stereotypically crazy, potentially self-destructive gambles to try to achieve something:

Aventurine wanted the IPC to invest in him. He wanted in on their power and wealth. No one in the IPC forced him to target their organization not once but twice with his "desert-digging schemes" when it is clear that Aventurine could easily make money elsewhere. No one forced him to suggest this gamble with Jade to convince the IPC to invest in him. No one forced him to, in the words of the game itself, "seek a Cornerstone."

Aventurine's character stories are the only indications we have (for now) about what his motivations for joining the IPC might have been:

They suggest he joined with the intention of gaining wealth and power to help his people and others who aided him in the past--only to find out that that was no longer possible, invalidating his original reason for joining and likely leaving him without motivation or will to really even stay in the powerful position he had worked to get into. Part of his suicidality is likely linked to this--that he set himself a massive, unbelievable goal in an attempt to gain power and wealth to finally help his people--only to be entirely too late. But in any case, these character stories make it clear that he did personally seek to join the IPC of his own free will.

(And I mean, hello? The whole point of Jade as a character is being the one who sees people's desires and then grants them--ergo, Aventurine's desire was, in fact, to join the IPC himself.)

If we needed any more corroborating evidence for this, just consider everything post-Penacony, when Aventurine has decided that he does actually value his life now and wants to live. Aventurine would have had so many chances to "escape" the IPC if he so chose. First, he could easily have pretended to actually die within the Nihility. He could have entirely fucked off with Argenti's help, created a new identity, and made himself a pile of independent wealth from gambles, all without the IPC ever knowing where he went. But he didn't.

Then, he had a second chance to betray the IPC and fuck off again with Boothill's help. Boothill had already knocked out Aventurine's bodyguards at the door--there was literally no one else around. A little blood on the floor and no one would have doubted that the IPC-hating, wanted vigilante Boothill had done away with Aventurine.

Hell, Aventurine knows the Trailblazer. One word to the Trailblazer, and Aventurine could board the Astral Express and be whisked off to the other side of the universe.

But none of those things happened. Aventurine made no effort to remove himself from the IPC--even though he knew he had broken a Cornerstone and would be facing possible punishment. He didn't even make a single mention of trying to "escape" the IPC at all.

Because he isn't trying to.

(And edit, an addendum, because I kept seeing this on Twitter too: A bunch of people were claiming that because Aventurine wasn't smiling when he got his Cornerstone back, that was evidence that he hates the IPC and doesn't want to be there:

Like... did they forget that every single time Aventurine makes his major gambles, he has such anxiety that he can never convince himself to believe he'll actually win, to the point that the "Future" Aventurine accuses him of clenching his trembling hand beneath the table? Is it really that surprising that someone who never actually believes he's going to win would have a shocked face when he does win here, especially after witnessing the literal power of an aeon restore something he thought was broken forever? Come on now...)

Would the guy who always wins his gambles bet that he would get a promotion if he absolutely didn't want his job?

People really, really seem to struggle with this aspect of Aventurine's character, going out of their way to ignore the game's text and suggest that he definitely absolutely would never, ever have joined the IPC of his own free will. People really hate the idea that Aventurine is a morally-grey character who makes choices that are actively harmful to himself, like willingly joining an organization that is exploiting him.

Knowing that the IPC played a part in the Avgin extinction, people literally cannot fathom that Aventurine would willingly join them.

But I think that denying this part of Aventurine's character is bad. There's no need to reduce Aventurine to an innocent, helpless victim who is being exploited against his will and who would never do a single evil thing himself. That's not who the game is telling us he is.

The game tells us, repeatedly, that Aventurine is a survivor who will do whatever it takes to succeed at whatever he sets his mind to--even up to murdering innocent people to survive himself. Up to willingly joining the IPC to seek wealth and power. He's not a 100% good person who is still being forced through an existence he has no control over.

He's a self-destructive gambler who makes terrible choices with his own life, and willingly joining the IPC to let the Stonehearts exploit his abilities is one of the most obvious indications of that in the game.

Please stop denying Aventurine his complex, three-dimensional character writing to make him your pure, innocent trauma woobie. I'm begging people.

Claim #4: Aventurine wants revenge on Oswaldo Schneider.

Verdict: There's no evidence in the game (yet) that Aventurine is even aware of Oswaldo Schneider's role in the Avgin extinction, let alone actively trying to seek revenge for it.

Personally, this one hurts me the most, because this is where I'd like to see the story going. I want it to be that Aventurine was partially motivated to join the IPC specifically to orchestrate an inside job and get the Avgins' revenge on Oswaldo Schneider.

But even I have to admit that there's currently no evidence for this at all in the story.

For one, we have no confirmation in-game that Aventurine actually knows Schneider's direct role in the Avgin extinction. Aventurine clearly knows that the IPC could have intervened (he was there; he saw they didn't do anything), but we have no actual confirmation in the game's text that Aventurine knows Schneider told his people not to get involved, leading to the massacre. The only reason we players know of this is relic text, which isn't available canonically to characters in the game.

It is very likely that Aventurine is smart enough to figure this out or do the research to learn it, but as of right now, we don't have that confirmation in game.

Similarly, we players are given no access to Aventurine's actual conversations with Boothill. We have no idea what they talked about other than this one statement:

It seems likely, based on this, that Aventurine did say something to Boothill about being willing to go after Oswaldo Schneider, but we won't know for sure until the game reveals more.

What we do know is that even if Aventurine does give Boothill information on Oswaldo, it might not really be because Aventurine wants personal revenge.

Oswaldo's Marketing Development Department is basically the sworn enemy of the Stonehearts' Strategic Investment Department. The two groups are in an internal cold war, vying for "votes" from the seven board members who are actually leading the IPC.

So even if we see Aventurine taking actions against Oswaldo, it might not be because of a personal grudge, but because literally Aventurine's entire department hates Oswaldo Schneider's guts on principle in the first place.

So it's very difficult to say what is going on with Aventurine and Oswaldo Schneider at this point, and in the end, we just need to wait for more information.

Phew, all right! That was definitely long enough. I've gotten it all off my chest. I hope I've managed to give people some more canon material to chew on for another look at Aventurine's character, which is rich and complex and definitely cannot be reduced to simply "pure innocent victim babygirl."

Maybe now I'll be a little less salty when I see misinformation spreading like a wildfire again on Twitter.

Maybe.

Ha ha, who am I kidding.

#honkai star rail #aventurine #interastral peace corporation #jade hsr #ten stonehearts #IPC #character analysis #fanon versus canon #who can I PAY to stop seeing terrible takes on twitter #this hot take almost got me cancelled on twitter #so I got so spicy I had to write a whole ass essay #please let Aventurine be the morally grey complicated character he is #I promise that is just as good as being babygirl #lol

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capuccinodoll · 3 months ago

Text

The boyfriend act, part 6: "The one with the late night talk" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: After spending a couple of weeks tormenting yourself over your argument with Frankie, you finally open up to Santi. He offers you a different perspective—one that hurts, but one you need to hear. WC: 6.8k

A/N: TW!!! This chapter touches on sensitive topics such as mental health and references to self-destructive behaviors. If these subjects are difficult for you, please proceed with caution. Thank you so much for reading and for your support! I truly appreciate it. Don’t forget to share your thoughts in the comments, love reading them!!! love you guys<3 If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications!

Tuesday, August 27th

August was dissolving, slipping through your fingers like the last ice cube in a too-warm drink. The days were heavy, pressing down on your skin, thick with the kind of heat that made everything feel slow and sticky. And the nights still belonged to it, summer—restless, humming, too warm to be comfortable but too familiar to resent. Inside, your apartment was quiet, the only real sound the steady, hypnotic whirl of the ceiling fan.

You kept busy. It was easier that way. There was always something to do: the new café down the street had changed the flow of foot traffic past the bookstore, drawing people in, pushing them through the doors in lazy waves. Customers wandered between the shelves, asking about novels they’d heard mentioned on a podcast, about poetry collections they’d been meaning to buy for months. You answered every question, made polite conversation, pretended you weren’t hyper-aware of how your own voice sounded when you used it too much.

Yesterday, a woman had lingered by the register, chatting about the café. She mentioned the owner—a charming man, she said, the kind of person who gave out free donuts on Friday mornings, which struck you as an objectively good and decent thing. You nodded along, made a mental note to stop by one of these days, even though you knew you probably wouldn’t.

But now it was tuesday night, and you were exhausted.

You collapsed onto the couch, grabbed the remote, pressed play. When Harry Met Sally. A movie you loved, though you weren’t really watching. Your legs stretched out along the cushions, arms folded against your chest, eyes on the screen but unfocused.

At the other end of the couch, Mr. Darcy curled into himself, his eyes dark and unblinking, watching you with something close to judgment. Because he knew. He knew that you were pretending. That you were acting like none of it had happened.

When Santi called, you told him you were fine. More than fine. And it wasn’t exactly a lie. You kept busy, your bank account was in better shape than last year. You knew how to work, how to keep your head down. If he asked about Frankie, you told him you hadn’t seen him—true. If he asked about Harry’s wedding, you lied, said you hadn’t decided yet.

Lying over the phone was easy. You’d always been good at it.

But then Santi showed up in person, unannounced, standing in your doorway with his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly, like he was already trying to figure you out.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice even, his gaze sharpening like he could see right through you.

“I’m just tired,” you said, and maybe that was true in a way, but not in the way he meant it. “Didn’t sleep well. Stayed up too late watching tv.”

He hesitated, like he was waiting for you to crack, to fill the silence with the thing you weren’t saying. But you didn’t. Instead, you pivoted—smooth, practiced—asked about Yov, about the wedding. He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

And you told yourself you wouldn’t think about Frankie.

Except that you did.

At night, when the house was still, when you were alone, his face surfaced in your mind with alarming clarity. The last thing you’d said to him. The way his expression had changed the second he heard you. The way it had made something deep inside you twist and ache.

You felt guilty. It hurt, a slow, deep kind of hurt, like pressing a bruise just to see how much you could stand. But then you reminded yourself—he had hurt you too, in ways you still carried with you. That should’ve made it easier. It didn’t.

Across the room, Mr. Darcy watched you, his gaze unmoving. Like he knew. Like he could see the way your thoughts kept circling, caught in a loop you didn’t know how to break.

The movie flickered on, a blur of motion, of dialogue you’d heard a hundred times before but suddenly couldn’t follow.

When the credits rolled, you stood, crossed the room, reached for your journal where it sat on the kitchen counter.

You flipped to the right page—the one where you kept your list. Little things. Big things. Things that made you feel like you were moving forward, even when you weren’t sure you were.

You uncapped a pen, pressed the tip to the page, and wrote:

Have a New Year’s kiss. Just like Harry and Sally. Less romantic, I guess.

You stared at the words, then exhaled sharply, almost a laugh.

Then you rolled your eyes at yourself, shut the journal, and left it there.

Thursday, August 29th

Yov was out of town, and Santi called that morning while you were at the bookstore, his voice warm but edged with something careful, like he was trying to keep things light. He asked if he could come over later, maybe stay for the night. You told him yes, of course. But you knew there was something beneath the surface of the invitation, an intention that had nothing to do with food. He was checking in on you.

It wasn’t unusual, the dinners. He loved coming over, eating something homemade, stretching out on your couch to watch a movie, half the time falling asleep before the credits rolled. Sometimes you’d drink wine and end up crying with laughter over Scary Movie, even though you could both quote it word for word. But this time, you could tell—he had noticed something. A shift in your mood, a dullness in your voice that you hadn’t managed to hide.

Still, you weren’t complaining. You loved spending time with him.

You closed the bookstore a little earlier than usual and walked the two blocks to the grocery store, the sun pressing against your skin. It was warm, but not suffocating, which felt strange for august. You slipped in your headphones, letting music filter in as you walked past the park. It was quiet today—only a few people scattered under the old trees, some walking, others sitting on benches, faces tilted toward the sky.

And then you crossed the street.

At the intersection, your eyes flicked up, catching the traffic light without thinking. It was green, glowing steadily above you. For some reason, it hit you in the chest like a second heartbeat. The last time you’d seen Frankie, it had been right here. You could still see it in your mind—the green light, the blur of the quiet night, the way your hands had felt too empty as you stepped out of the car, a weight forming somewhere deep in your ribs.

Pointless, thinking about it now. You exhaled, pulled out your phone, and skipped to the next song. The first few notes played, something familiar, something that made you smile despite yourself. Just Like Heaven.

Inside the store, the air conditioning wrapped around you like a cold, weightless hand. A relief. You grabbed a cart and started down the aisles, scrolling through your notes app for the grocery list you’d made after Santi had texted, asking if you could make that spaghetti—the one with the sauce he always raved about.

Ten minutes later, you had almost everything. A bottle of rosé sat nestled between vegetables and pasta, but now you hesitated in front of the wine section, eyeing the rows of deep reds and pale golds. You wanted something good. Something that would feel nice in your hands as you curled up on the couch later.

Merlot. You reached for a bottle, ran your fingers over the label before setting it gently in the cart.

Maybe you’d grab something sweet for later too—chocolates, gummies. Something with nuts and caramel.

Eyes without a face faded out, replaced by the sharp, unmistakable opening of Toxic. Without thinking, you smiled, mouthing the words as you steered the cart down the cereal aisle. Your eyes drifted over the shelves, barely registering the neon-colored boxes, the cartoon mascots grinning at you from their spots. You weren’t really looking for anything there, just moving through the motions.

At the end of the aisle, you turned left.

And then, you saw him.

Frankie.

He was crouched at the far end of the aisle, head tilted slightly, eyes scanning a label like he was deciphering something complicated. He hadn’t seen you.

Black T-shirt, dark gray cargo pants, messy hair. You weren’t sure why you noticed that, why your mind cataloged the details like they meant something. But it did.

For a second, you froze.

Your fingers tightened around the handle of the cart. A quick assessment: the space between you, the angle of his gaze, the seconds you had before he looked up.

You turned.

No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just a sharp turn on your heel, a swift retreat in the opposite direction before he could lift his head, before his eyes could meet yours.

You’d buy candy somewhere else.

Santi dropped onto the couch beside you with all the weight of a falling tree, the cushions sinking under him, a rush of air brushing past you.

"Hey!" you groaned, swatting his shoulder in mock protest.

He just grinned, unbothered, reaching past you to grab his wine glass from the coffee table. You watched as he took a sip, settling in like he had nowhere else to be.

You picked up the remote and resumed the movie, the screen flickering back to life after the pause you’d hit when he disappeared into the bathroom, grumbling about his bladder. You’d made a joke about him getting old, and he’d laughed, but then he muttered something about making an appointment with a urologist. You didn’t ask for details.

Tonight’s movie was his pick. As Above, So Below. A group of overconfident explorers descending into the parisian catacombs, searching for the philosopher’s stone. Things go wrong, as they always do. They end up in hell itself. Santi loved this kind of thing. Honestly, so did you.

It was something you’d shared since you were kids—sitting cross-legged on the floor with your dad, watching horror movies long past bedtime. He had a deep, unwavering love for them, and your mother always scolded him for scaring you senseless. But you loved it, even when you had to sleep with the hallway light on for weeks, even when the images stuck to the backs of your eyelids like aftershadows.

You still remembered the night you watched The Blair Witch Project. Your dad had told you, very seriously, that it was real. That the film had been pieced together from actual footage, that the people in it were still missing. You and Santi believed him completely. You spent days afterward peeking around corners, flinching at the sound of snapping twigs, avoiding the woods near your house like they held something waiting just beyond the trees.

For days, you couldn’t shake it. The idea that somewhere out there, in some dark, endless forest, they were still lost. And then, one day, Santi came home from school, eyes wide, voice low.

“They found something in the woods,” he whispered.

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Candles. Leftover wax, melted onto the ground. Bones. Like from some kind of ritual.” His eyes were wide, serious. “One of the guys at school told me. He said there’s probably a witch.”

You swallowed, trying to look unimpressed. “There’s no witch.”

“There must be,” he insisted. “That’s why I’m telling you—you cannot go near there, okay? Or you’ll get lost, and who knows when we’ll find you. I don’t know how to fight witches. Do you?”

You shook your head, lips pressed together, pretending to be indifferent. But during the next few years, you avoided that stretch of forest like your life depended on it. Even when you turned twelve and realized he had made the whole thing up, even when you knew, logically, that there was nothing out there in the trees, you still found yourself watching from a distance, something uneasy curling in your stomach whenever you passed by.

On the screen, one of the protagonists was panicking, struggling against the rope wrapped around his foot. His breathing grew ragged, his face contorted in fear. The music swelled, sharp and urgent. You squinted at the television.

Santi snorted next to you. “Come on, don’t be scared. Nothing’s happening yet.”

The living room was dark except for the glow of the TV, washing the room in flickering light. Even the small lamp beside you was off. Mr. Darcy, usually nestled against your leg during movie nights, was nowhere to be found—probably curled up in your bed, fast asleep.

“I know,” you murmured, shifting slightly, “but something’s going to happen.”

Santi let out a deep, satisfied sigh as he stretched out beside you, rotating his shoulder with a wince.

“God, I’m so full,” he groaned, then yawned. “But I won’t complain if you give me the leftovers.”

You turned to him with a smirk. The soft glow from the screen reflected in your eyes, and the slight haze of wine made the moment feel heavier, slower.

“You really have no bottom, do you?” you teased, reaching for the half-eaten chocolate on the coffee table. “Fine. You can take them. But only if you make me some of that stew you do later.”

Santi scoffed, sitting up a little. “What did you think of the last one I made? I changed the recipe—more cumin, extra celery. I was waiting for your opinion on it.” His expression was expectant, a little put out.

You frowned, trying to recall. “When?”

He blinked at you, then sat up straighter. “Are you serious?”

You shrugged.

“You couldn’t have missed it,” he insisted, narrowing his eyes. “I put so much more celery in. You didn’t taste it? And a little ginger. That was Yov’s idea.”

“Why are you so fixated on the stew?”

“Because it’s my thing,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest like he was deeply wounded. “I take your spaghetti seriously, right?”

You tilted your head. “I take your cooking seriously too. But I—wait, when? When we had dinner after going to the movies?”

“No, dumbass,” he scoffed. “When you and Frankie came over.”

Your mouth opened slightly. The realization hit you all at once.

Right. That night.

You had completely forgotten about Santi’s meal. If you were remembering correctly, you'd left the container in Frankie’s car.

Your gaze flickered back to the screen, where the protagonist was now screaming. You exhaled.

“Ah. Yeah. I forgot your stew in Frankie’s car.” Your voice was quieter, like the words had escaped before you fully thought them through. Then you turned back to Santi, offering a small, sheepish smile. “But I won’t complain if you make me more.”

Santi studied you for a beat, then tilted his head. “So, are you giving me the leftovers or not?”

“Yes. And some apple pie I made yesterday.” You lifted your eyebrows, watching the way his face lit up.

“Done.”

You settled back into the couch, shifting your gaze toward the screen. The movie was unfolding exactly as expected—each character trapped in their own personal hell, doomed by their own choices. You found a strange sense of relief in knowing this was something that could never happen to you. Not because you thought you were immune to disaster, but because you simply weren’t the kind of person who would put themselves in a situation like that.

The Paris catacombs? Sure, there were guided tours with clear paths and bright lighting—why would anyone willingly crawl through some secret, uncharted part of it, especially when history had already proven that people got lost down there?

You never understood that kind of thrill-seeking. Rock climbing? Fine. Trekking through forests, deserts? Sure. Skydiving, bungee jumping—adrenaline junkies, you got it. But willingly wedging yourself into a cavern, not knowing if you’d make it back out? That part never made sense.

Santi shifted beside you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Have you seen him?”

Your eyes remained on the screen. The only two survivors were finally making their way out, and you felt your body relax.

“Who?”

“Frankie.”

The name landed somewhere uncomfortable, somewhere in your chest. Your eyes flicked to Santi for just a second before returning to the television.

“Oh. No.”

“I thought you were supposed to have dinner at Helena’s weeks ago.”

“As it turned out, no.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, still watching the screen as if it required your full attention. “Been busy. I think he has too. It’s all good.”

Santi didn’t say anything at first, just watched you like he was waiting for something more. You ignored it, eyes trained on the credits rolling up the screen.

“That’s weird,” he said finally. “I talked to Helena this week. She asked about you.”

You nodded, fingers tightening slightly around the remote.

“She also said Frankie’s been dodging her questions. She’s a little worried.”

You exhaled through your nose, lips pressing together as you casually scrolled back in the movie.

"Do you want to watch something else, or are you already falling asleep?" you asked, scrolling absently through the app’s home screen, your thumb hovering over different titles without really seeing them.

Santi shifted beside you. "No, let’s watch something else if you want. Pick whatever."

You nodded, though you weren’t really listening. Your focus had already drifted, your eyes moving over rows of movies and shows, not settling on anything in particular. You were just going through the motions, waiting for something to click. The thought of anything too heavy, too thought-provoking, made your stomach clench. You needed something easy, something you didn’t have to engage with beyond letting the sounds fill the space.

Eventually, your finger landed on Family Guy, and you hit play without much thought. The opening chords of the theme song played like muscle memory, a familiar noise cutting through the low hum of tension in the room. Your head felt a little fuzzy from the alcohol, pleasantly weightless in a way that made it easier not to think too hard.

Next to you, Santi exhaled, long and deliberate, before tilting his head against your shoulder. A few beats of quiet passed before he spoke again.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?" His voice was careful, measured.

You blinked at the screen. "What?"

"With Frankie."

"Nothing happened with him," you said automatically, too quickly.

Santi made a small noise, like he didn’t believe you for a second. "Right. Sure."

You turned your head slightly but kept your gaze forward. "Why—why would that surprise you, anyway? It’s not like we’ve ever gotten along." You let out a dry, humorless laugh, the kind that barely reached your throat.

"Exactly," he said, sitting up straighter beside you. "That’s exactly why I’m asking. I know you well enough to know when something’s off. And I know him well enough to know the same thing. You add those two things together, plus the fact that Helena sounded concerned when she talked to me earlier, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out something must have happened." He turned to look at you fully now, voice shifting into something closer to amusement. "I mean, I knew this whole plan between you two wasn’t exactly solid, but I didn’t think you’d manage to mess it up this fast."

You turned to him then, incredulous. "Seriously? You, Santiago—the one who’s been saying from the beginning that this was a terrible idea, who’s been acting like a prophet of doom about the whole thing—you’re surprised?"

Santi’s lips quirked up, eyes glinting. He looked, irritatingly, pleased with himself.

"Knew it," he said. "So what happened?"

You let out a breath, shaking your head before turning back to the TV. The theme song was over now, the first scene of the episode already unfolding. You folded your arms, pressing them tightly against your chest, like maybe you could keep whatever you were feeling contained that way. But it was still there, that dull, unwelcome ache settling back in.

"We had an argument," you said finally.

Santi waited a second, then: "About what?"

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch between you, weighing your options. Santi was staring at you, waiting.

You’d already talked to Emma about this. She had listened carefully, nodding at the right moments, offering up her own quiet honesty in return. She hadn’t sugarcoated things, hadn’t let you off the hook. She had even agreed with you—that yes, you had been cruel, whether or not Frankie had deserved it.

So you had already said the words once, already unburdened yourself. But the weight of not telling Santi felt different, heavier in a way that had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with trust.

You wanted to tell him. Of course you did. He had been listening to you your whole life, letting you spill your secrets without fear of judgment. And he had never once betrayed you, never let anything slip where it wasn’t supposed to. Nothing you told him would reach Frankie. Nothing. You knew that.

But this—this was harder. It wasn’t just about Frankie. It was about you. About saying something out loud that you weren’t even sure you had fully admitted to yourself yet. It was one thing to talk about your insecurities with Emma. It was another thing entirely to lay them bare in front of your brother. To tell him that Frankie—of all people—had seen them before you’d even opened your mouth.

Still, what choice did you have? Santi wasn’t going to let this go. He never did.

"About Harry," you said finally, your voice flat, stripped of any real emotion.

Santi frowned. "Harry?"

You nodded.

"Why?"

You exhaled, suddenly hyperaware of the breath leaving your body, the way it felt too sharp, too deliberate.

"Because," you said, shifting against the couch, "I’m not as over him as I thought I was. And Francisco apparently decided that was his business. Thought it would be a great idea to ask me a million questions about it, maybe even offer up some unsolicited advice."

Santi folded his arms, his expression shifting from confusion to something more serious.

"What kind of advice?"

You turned to look at him then, and whatever was in your expression must have given him pause.

"Santi," you said carefully, "I’m going to tell you this, but you can’t say anything until I’m done. No opinions, no interruptions. You can ask questions, but don’t react until I finish. Okay?"

He straightened slightly, concern settling into the lines of his face. Then he nodded. "Okay."

You swallowed.

"The thing is…" Another breath. Another hesitation. "I haven’t been feeling okay. And it’s not just because of Harry, or Frankie, or any of that. It’s… more than that. It’s been going on for a long time. Years, even. It’s about me. It’s about the way I am, the way I live my life. Or, maybe, the way I don’t. I feel like I’m afraid all the time. And that fear—it limits me. It always has. You know that. You’ve seen it. Remember when we were kids, and you and Dad would invite me camping? And I’d always make up some excuse because the idea of sleeping in the middle of nowhere freaked me out? Or that weekend you wanted me to go rock climbing with you?"

He nodded, his expression unreadable now.

"And I hate that about myself," you admitted, voice quieter now. "Because fear holds me back. It keeps me from doing things that—who knows?—maybe I’d like. But how am I supposed to know that if I never try?"

Santi opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance.

"No," you said, holding up a finger. "No opinions yet. Remember?"

He lifted his hands in surrender, pressing his lips together like he was physically stopping himself from speaking.

You exhaled, pressing your palms against your thighs. “Well, that’s just it. That’s the thing that’s been bothering me for a long time. Longer than I want to admit. And it—it doesn’t feel good. I don’t feel good about it.” You paused, fingers twitching like they wanted to pick at something, to fidget with the hem of your shirt, the couch cushion, anything. “And then there’s Harry.” You let out a small laugh, barely more than an exhale. “I really thought I was over him, or at least I told myself I was. But I don’t think I am. And I don’t even think it’s about him, exactly.”

Santi tilted his head slightly, watching you closely. You waved a hand, dismissing whatever concern you saw creeping into his face.

“It’s not really about him,” you clarified. “It’s about what he did. How easy it was for him to let me go. How easy it was for me to let myself fall into something I knew wasn’t going to end well. I wasn’t stupid—I knew he didn’t want anything serious. He told me that. But I still didn’t leave when I started to feel more than I should have. And I guess—” you swallowed, your throat suddenly tight, “I guess some part of me really thought that if I just waited long enough, he’d start feeling the same way.”

You shook your head, eyes flicking back to the TV screen. The cartoon characters moved in exaggerated motions, their voices playing somewhere in the background of your thoughts. You weren’t really hearing them.

“But he didn’t,” you added, quieter now. “If anything, he did the opposite.”

Santi didn’t say anything, and you appreciated that. He just sat there, listening, waiting.

You rubbed your hand over the couch cushion beside you, letting the soft fabric ground you before you spoke again.

“And then, when we saw him that day,” you continued, “Francisco basically laughed in my face when I told him I was going to the wedding. He thought it was pathetic. Told me I was a masochist. And I got pissed off, obviously. But the thing is, I hadn’t actually thought about it that much before then. I mean, yeah, I knew Harry was oblivious, that he probably hadn’t even considered how it might feel for me to be there. But I hadn’t really let myself think about how ridiculous it was that I said yes in the first place.”

You swallowed, tracing the seam of the couch absentmindedly.

“Francisco, though—he was vocal about it from the start. He never held back. He called Harry an idiot, told me it was obvious he knew how I felt and just pretended he didn’t. And that night at your place—” you hesitated, glancing at Santi, “I’d had a bad day. Like, a really bad day. I was already in my own head, already torturing myself by checking Harry’s social media, going down the usual spiral. And Francisco, of course, noticed. And he asked me about it on the way home.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “But it was the way he did it. He was relentless. He just kept pushing and pushing, like he was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I—I just felt awful. Like he was doing it on purpose. Like he wanted me to crack. Because…” You trailed off, staring blankly at the screen again. “I don’t know. It’s like he knows exactly which buttons to press to tear me apart. He always has. He finds my weak spots and then just—shoves them in my face.”

Your voice wavered slightly, but you didn’t look at Santi until you were finished speaking. When you did, your eyes felt heavy, glazed over with something you didn’t want to name.

Santi’s expression was unreadable. His voice, careful. “What did he say to you?”

You felt your heartbeat pick up, steady but noticeable, like a pulse pressing against your ribs.

"That I needed to get over it." Your voice came out unsteady, something raw beneath the words. "That I had to stop making Harry into this tragic hero who unknowingly destroyed me." You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve. "But he wasn’t gentle about it. He wasn’t even neutral. He was the opposite. And I—" You hesitated, feeling the weight of it settle in your chest. "I know he’s probably right. I do. But that didn’t make it feel any less awful. It didn’t make me feel any less—"

You stopped. Your throat burned. Your vision blurred at the edges, a tear threatening to spill over. You blinked hard, forcing it back.

"He made me feel stupid," you admitted finally. "Like I was ridiculous for feeling this way in the first place. And that’s what really gets me—because I know he doesn’t actually care. It’s not like this was some act of concern, like he wanted to help me move on. He did it just to dig at me. To get a reaction. To remind me that I’m weak in ways he isn’t." Your breath came out unsteady. "What the fuck does he know about how I feel?"

Santi exhaled your name softly, the way he always did when you were teetering on the edge of something painful. Then, without a word, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in.

The warmth of it—his steady heartbeat, the way his chin rested lightly on the top of your head—worked like a balm. It didn’t erase the feeling completely, but it dulled it, took the sharpest edges away. You closed your eyes for a second, just breathing.

"I know your relationship with him is complicated," Santi murmured, "but, really… Frankie’s not that kind of person."

You pulled back, looking up at him in disbelief.

"He’s different with you," you said, shaking your head. "With me, it’s—something else."

"No, no, I get it," Santi said, his voice careful. "I’ve watched you two argue for years. But what I mean is… he wouldn’t ask you those kinds of questions just to be cruel. He wouldn’t push you about something painful just to see you suffer."

You scoffed, looking away. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know him." Santi’s tone was even, patient. "Better than anyone. I know he can be unbearable and insufferable, and I know he gets under your skin. But he doesn’t have an ounce of real cruelty in him. Whatever his reasons were, they weren’t to hurt you."

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "Doesn’t seem like it." You ran a hand through your hair, shaking your head. "Why would he care so much, then? Why does it even matter to him? He doesn’t know anything about what it’s like to regret something this much."

Santi didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Like he was deciding what to say, or maybe whether to say anything at all.

Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, his eyes flickering to the coffee table before landing back on you.

"What has he told you about Rachel?" he asked finally.

You blinked.

"Not much," you admitted. "That she dumped him. Maia didn’t like her. Helena mentioned something, but she never gave me details."

"Yeah," Santi nodded, exhaling through his nose. "Well, Frankie and Rachel were together for almost two years. Longer, if you count the months they spent circling each other before making it official. It wasn’t perfect—none of them are—but this was… different. He loved her. I mean, really loved her. The kind of love that makes you a little unrecognizable, you know? I’d never seen him like that before. But it wasn’t good for him."

He looked at you then, more serious now, like he was weighing his words before saying them out loud.

"I don’t know if it’s my place to tell you this," he said, "but you’re my sister, and I trust you."

You didn’t say anything, just kept your eyes on him, still reeling from everything you already knew—and everything you didn’t.

"A few years ago, Frankie left the CAG after one of his closest friends died in the middle of a mission." Santi paused, his jaw tightening for a brief second. "It hit him hard. Too hard. Took him a long time to find his footing again. He came back to Austin, took a year off before he even thought about working again. And, you know, he got better. Kind of. But never fully."

You blinked at him, stunned. You had no idea.

All those years ago, when Santi had mentioned a friend who had returned to Austin, a friend who needed help—you’d never really thought about it. He’d never given you details. He’d talked about Will and Benny often enough, but Frankie had been a more distant presence, like an acquaintance who existed on the fringes of your brother’s life. Someone he never really brought up.

"And then, a few years later, he met Rachel," Santi went on. "And at first, we thought—okay, maybe this is good. Maybe this will be good for him." He shook his head. "But it wasn’t. She was… possessive. Controlling. Not good to him at all. But Frankie was in love, and what were we supposed to do? He was happy—at least in the moments where she let him be—so we let it go, even though we didn’t approve."

You could hear the resentment in his voice. The hindsight.

"But he was still up and down. And then, his dad died."

Santi rubbed a hand over his face, and when he looked back at you, there was something deeply weary in his expression.

"He spiraled," he said. "It wrecked him, just like you’d expect it to. And then—two months later, Rachel left him."

You felt the words hit you square in the chest.

Santi exhaled sharply, shaking his head again, looking indignant in a way you rarely saw.

"She told him he wasn’t what she wanted anymore. That he wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t acting like the man she needed. That he spent too much time holed up, too much time in bed." Santi’s voice turned hard. "Frankie was fucking depressed, and she had the audacity to tell him he was being selfish. That he wasn’t stepping up."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Jesus," you whispered, closing your eyes. You could feel the sharp sting of tears, the words you had thrown at Frankie earlier coming back in painful flashes.

Santi let the silence settle for a second before continuing.

"Anyway," he said, his voice lower now, "she left. And two weeks later, Benny saw her at the mall, kissing another guy. He told us, asked if we should say something. If it was even worth it. And at first, we thought maybe we shouldn’t. But Frankie… he thought he could still win her back. He was talking about changing for her, about fighting for her. And I swear—" Santi let out a breath that sounded close to a laugh, but there was nothing amused about it. "I’ve never been so angry at someone in my life. And the worst part?" He glanced at you. "She had been seeing that guy for months."

You felt something tighten in your throat.

"You told him?"

"Yeah," Santi said. "We had to. Even though we knew it would wreck him."

"And what did he say?"

Santi’s expression turned unreadable for a moment. Then he furrowed his brows, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he said. "He just nodded, got up, and walked away."

You didn’t say anything. A moment passed, stretched and heavy, and you felt Santi tense beside you. Like he was bracing himself.

You turned to look at him, already knowing he wasn’t finished.

"Less than a month later," he said, his voice quieter now, like the words had to be handled with care. "Helena called me. Said Frankie was in the hospital. He’d taken something—pills, a lot of pills. And he’d been drinking."

Your stomach twisted, a deep, sinking feeling settling in your chest.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you saying he tried to—"

"I don’t know." Santi shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "I never asked. And none of us did. He didn't wanted us to, he was clear about it. And I think we were afraid to." He hesitated, like he was weighing his words again. "And to ask him now, after all this time… I don’t know, it feels... it feels out of place. Because I really think he's in a better place now, so."

You just stared at him, eyes wide, unmoving. Something inside you cracked, like a hairline fracture deep enough to make the whole structure feel unsteady.

Santi exhaled and looked down at his hands.

"What I’m trying to say," he went on, his voice softer now, "is that if anyone understands what it feels like to be abandoned, to feel like you’re not enough—it’s Frankie. That’s why I don’t think he was trying to hurt you. I think he was just… misguided. Trying to help in the only way he knows how."

Your lips trembled, the weight of everything pressing down on you, thick and unbearable. A sharp breath caught in your throat, half a gasp, half a sob. You turned to Santi, searching his face for something—understanding, reassurance, maybe a way out of the feeling that had settled, heavy, inside your ribs.

He furrowed his brows, watching you carefully, a crease of worry between his eyes.

“I…” You barely got the word out before tears blurred your vision. A thick, aching regret filled your chest. “I said horrible things to him.”

Santi didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, one hand resting against the back of your head.

You let yourself sink into the hug, but it didn’t make the feeling go away. If anything, it made it worse—because you couldn’t undo it. Because knowing the truth now didn’t erase the things you’d said, the sharp edges of your words still lodged somewhere deep in your memory, in Frankie’s memory.

And yes, he had been cruel to you for years. Yes, you had convinced yourself that whatever existed between you was just mutual disdain, nothing more, nothing less. But now, everything felt different. Everything had shifted, changed color. And you hated the way it looked now.

You weren’t this person. The kind who threw words like weapons, who dug into wounds just to make them deeper. You knew too well what it was like to feel that kind of hurt.

“What did you tell him?” Santi asked, his voice gentle, careful.

You swallowed hard, keeping your face pressed against his shirt, as if not looking at him would make it easier to admit.

“That he must have a lot of experience feeling like shit. That he was nothing but a failure, a loser. That he was drowning in his own misery.”

Santi let out a quiet curse under his breath, his fingers moving absently over your hair.

“I was awful, Santi,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

Santi exhaled. “I’m sure he knows you were angry—”

“Why?” You pulled away, looking up at him, your face tight with frustration. “Why would he believe that? We’ve never been kind to each other. Not once. Why would he think this time was any different?”

“Because you’re not cruel,” Santi said simply.

You shook your head. “I wanted to hurt him.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person.” He studied you, his gaze steady. “I think… Unfortunately, I think you’re both a little messed up in the same ways, and that’s exactly why he recognizes it in you so easily. But that doesn’t make you a bad person. And it doesn’t make him one either.”

Silence settled between you. You lowered your gaze, your fingers twisting the hem of your sleeve.

“Do you think I’m fucked up?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Santi snorted, shaking his head. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Not really. Not really, really fucked up. Just a little. Fixable.”

Despite yourself, you let out a weak, uneven breath—something that wasn’t quite a laugh, but close enough. You glanced up at him, the smallest trace of humor flickering in your eyes.

“What am I supposed to do, Santi?”

Your voice was so soft, so uncertain, that he visibly winced. He didn’t like hearing you like this. Santi sighed, his own exhaustion catching up with him, but there was something warm in his expression, something steady.

“Right now? You go to bed and get some sleep,” he said, nudging your arm. “Later? Maybe we figure out how to fix this. Talking to Frankie would probably be a good start, don’t you think?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll get back to you on that in the morning.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti @daybleedsintonightfa11 @mys2425 @pigeonmama @speaktothehandpeasants @pez3639 @stylesispunk @imaginecrushes @isla-finke-blog @smiithys @jokesonthem @brittmb115 @sukivenue @awkwardmebaby @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @suzysface @picketniffler

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earthlyangelbby · 5 months ago

Text

Say Anything ❄️

CW: virgin!Eddie, kissing, fingering, blow job, P+V, nervous!Eddie reader is referred to as Angel she/her

Summary: A typical hangout turns into an unexpected sleepover when a snow storm traps Eddie at her house. A first for Angel and Eddie's friendship. But that isn't Eddie's only first that night.

7.8k words

For two months now she and Eddie had been inseparable, ever since they first met at Family Video, where he worked. She’d just moved to town, and Eddie, with his wild hair and easy grin, had been the first person to make her feel welcome. Spending their afternoons together, grabbing coffee, or just hanging out at each other's places was a welcomed new normal. Eddie insisted that in comparison to him, she was an Angel. So that's what he called her. Well most of the time anyway, Sweetheart and Darling still found a way to his list of names for her.

Tonight, Angel had invited Eddie over again, knowing her dad was out of town. Her bedroom was its usual cozy mess, books, and clothes scattered across the floor. Eddie was sprawled on the bed, thumbing through her records.

The credits rolled across the screen as Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes played softly in the background. Eddie stretched his arms behind his head, his lips curling into a sly grin.

“Alright, I’ll admit it—that was pretty solid. But the boombox scene? Total cheese.”

She hugged a pillow to her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “Cheese? Eddie, that’s one of the most iconic romantic gestures of all time!”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on. What kind of guy actually does that in real life? Stands outside someone’s window blasting music like a one-man concert?” He paused, his grin turning playful. “If I liked a girl, I’d at least write her a song or something, not just steal a track off the radio.”

“Wow, how original,” she shot back with a smirk. “A whole song? That’s so much cooler than Lloyd Dobler holding up a boombox.”

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Admit it, Angel—you’d totally swoon if a guy did that for you. The letter-writing, the boombox, the whole deal.”

She sighed dramatically, pressing the pillow to her chest. “Lloyd Dobler is the perfect guy. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and knows exactly what he wants. Who wouldn’t want someone like that?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Perfect guy. Sure. But you’d be bored stiff after two weeks with him.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“Admit it,” Eddie teased. “You’d miss the fun of someone who actually knows how to keep you on your toes. Lloyd’s all grand gestures and deep talks, but where’s the chaos? The unpredictability?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean the kind of chaos you bring? Let me guess you’re more of a Fast Times at Ridgemont High guy.”

“That’s harsh,” Eddie said, catching the pillow she threw at him. “But accurate.” He grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Give me Spicoli over Lloyd Dobler any day. At least he knows how to have a good time.”

Shaking her head, she stood up and started gathering the empty snack bowls. “Yeah, that tracks. You’d be too busy making fun of everything to appreciate a real romantic gesture.”

Eddie wandered over to her record collection, his attention snagged by the neatly stacked vinyl. “Alright, now let’s see if your taste in music makes up for your questionable taste in movies.”

“Questionable?” she called over her shoulder, shooting him a look. “Says the guy who probably listens to nothing but screaming guitars.”

“Not just screaming guitars,” Eddie shot back, flipping through the records. He pulled one out, holding it up with a raised eyebrow. “Ah, ABBA. Dancing Queen. A true masterpiece.”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Mock it all you want, but ABBA’s timeless.”

Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I can get down to ABBA.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously?”

“Sure,” he admitted, smirking. “I just like seeing how mad I can make you.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

Before she could respond further, the crackle of the radio interrupted them, followed by a stern announcement from the weather service.

"Weather alert: A severe snowstorm is expected to hit the area tonight. Please Stay indoors and avoid unnecessary travel until further notice."

She raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Looks like you’re stuck here, Eddie.”

Eddie straightened up, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Stuck? What do you mean? You invited me over on purpose, knowing this would happen. You wanted me to sleep over!”

Oh god, is he actually onto me? I mean, I didn’t plan for a snowstorm, but I’m not exactly upset it’s keeping him here longer. I can’t even deny that I might have... hoped for this. He’s probably just messing around.

She laughed, feeling the flush creep onto her cheeks. “It’s not like I planned for a snowstorm. Do you really think I can control the weather?”

Eddie leaned in, his grin widening. “So, you’ve got me stuck here with a snowstorm raging outside. I think that was your plan all along, sweetheart?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What? Do you think I invited you over just for the snow? Maybe I just like your company,” she teased, trying to sound casual.

Eddie's smile softened “You know I like your company too. I’m glad to be stuck here with you. Better than being by myself in my tin can.”

She chuckled, glancing at the window where snowflakes were already swirling around. “As long as you don't hog all the covers we’ll be good Eds”

Wait, what? Did she just—? Eddie’s thoughts raced. Did she really just say that? Does she want me to—sleep in her bed? Does she mean it? Or am I overthinking it? This is it. This is the moment. Don’t freak out, just stay cool, Munson. It’s just a bed.

Eddie’s grin faded for a moment, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Wait, so… do you want me to sleep in your bed with you?” he asked, a little taken aback by the suggestion. You have never crossed that line before, and the thought seemed to catch him off guard.

Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she shrugged it off, doing her best to play it cool. “I didn’t say anything about that,” she said, trying to sound casual, but there was a spark of something in her eyes. “I just meant, don’t hog the blankets if you’re sticking around.”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Oh, she definitely wants me in that bed. It’s in her eyes—she’s trying to act like she’s not into it, but I can tell. His pulse quickened as his mind raced. Okay, play it cool, Munson. Don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how much I want this.

He leaned back slightly, glancing from her to the bed, pretending to give it a second thought. “Oh, I’m staying. No way am I braving that snowstorm just to freeze in my van.” His voice was smooth, but his thoughts were anything but. She’s giving me an opening. She’s letting me stay in her bed. I mean, she has to know how badly I want this. It’s all there, right? The way she said it, the way she looked at me…

She tried to hide the smirk tugging at her lips, but the playful gleam in her eyes didn’t quite match the nonchalance in her tone. “Relax, Eddie. It’s not like I’m asking you to stay forever.” She paused for a beat, her voice dropping into something just a little quieter, more teasing. “I’m just saying… share the blankets.”

Eddie’s grin widened, a thrill running through him. She’s giving me a chance here. She’s being coy, but I know what she’s doing. His mind spun with the possibility of what might come next. This is it. No turning back now.

“Well, in that case,” Eddie said, his voice low and teasing, “I guess I can handle a little blanket sharing. Not like I’ve got a choice now.”

Her lips fought a smile curving up slightly, “It's getting late, are you almost ready for bed?”

Eddie let out a dramatic sigh as he tugged at the waistband of his jeans, giving her a playful look. God, this feels ridiculous. But seriously, I can't stop thinking about how she’s letting me stay here. In her bed. With her. This is actually happening, right?

He glanced over at her as she laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Guess I didn’t plan for the full-on ‘cozy night in,” Eddie said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he stood up, rolling his shoulders before making a dramatic show of pulling at the jeans again. Come on, play it cool. He caught her eye and winked, trying to act like it was all just casual fun, but inside, he was definitely feeling more than just the weight of the jeans.

She shot him a teasing look. "What? You think those are uncomfortable? You really picked the tightest pair of jeans for a cozy snowed-in night?" she laughed, trying to hold back her smile. "You’re not gonna survive the storm in those."

Eddie glanced down at his jeans in exaggerated dismay. "You think these are the pants of misery?" He sighed dramatically. "Alright, you’ve got me. It’s either freedom of movement or... well, whatever this is."

She couldn’t help but laugh. "Exactly. You need something comfier if you’re planning to sleep." She casually walked over to her closet, pulling it open with a little shrug. "I don’t exactly have a ton of comfy options, though."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, half in jest, half in anticipation. "No sweatpants? Really?"

She turned back toward him with a smirk. "Sorry, not my style. But..." She paused, eyes glinting mischievously. "You could always just sleep in your underwear. No judgment."

Eddie froze for a second. His heart raced. Did she—? Did she just say that? He quickly suppressed the thought, but his mind couldn’t help but wander. "Oh, really? I’m free to just—" He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "Well, guess I don’t have much choice, huh?"

What if she’s serious? Eddie thought, his mind working overtime. She definitely wouldn’t suggest it unless she wanted me to, right?

She chuckled softly, glancing at him over her shoulder, amused by his reaction. She continued rummaging through her clothes, her heart skipping just a little bit at the thought of him actually following through. Does he know how hot he’d look in just his underwear? she thought, trying to focus on her task and not the fact that her imagination was already running wild. This is normal. I’m being normal about this. He’s not making a big deal of it. Neither should I.

"Guess that’s the only option," Eddie said, trying to play it off with a smirk, but inwardly, his excitement was building. Holy shit, she just gave me the green light...

She pulled a soft, cotton nightgown from the closet, holding it up to show Eddie. "This is what I’ll wear," she said, casually tossing it on the bed. It was simple, yet elegant—a soft blue nightgown that looked like it could almost flow if she twirled.

Eddie’s breath hitched. His eyes flickered to her, then quickly down to the nightgown, his mind a little too distracted by the thought of seeing her in it. Oh my god, she looks amazing, even holding that thing up like it’s no big deal... He quickly pushed the thought aside, but his heart skipped a beat. "Nice," he said, a little too quickly. "That’s definitely fancier than my—well, my underwear."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Fancier? I’m just trying to be comfortable… but wow, he actually noticed. "Yeah, well, you’ll be fine in your own boxers," she said with a teasing smile. "Just get comfortable, Munson."

Eddie, still a little distracted by the sight of her in the nightgown, smiled and gave her a nod. God, I can’t wait to see her wear that.

"Alright, alright," Eddie said, his voice a little huskier than usual. "I’m gonna go change. Don’t worry, I’m making myself comfortable." As he walked off toward the bathroom, Eddie’s heart still pounded in his chest, anticipation hanging in the air like a sweet tension neither of them fully acknowledged—yet both could feel.

Her mind was already drifting, imagining him in just his boxers, stretching out on her bed, and her pulse quickened. This is gonna be a very interesting night.

As Eddie stepped into the bathroom, he quickly closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment to steady himself. His heart was still racing, a nervous excitement buzzing under his skin. Okay, Munson, you’ve got this. Just wash your face, get your shit together, and don’t act like a total idiot when you get back. He splashed some of her fancy cleanser onto his hands, massaging it into his face as he stared at himself in the mirror. Is this really happening?

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts swirling in his mind. Of course, it’s happening. She’s not gonna make me sleep in a freezing room. She offered it. Don’t freak out. Just play it cool. Don’t act like this is the first time a pretty girl has said you can crash in her bed, even though it is.

In her room, She stood in front of her mirror, gently brushing out her hair, the rhythmic motion soothing her nerves. Her thoughts, however, were anything but calm. I can’t believe I just said that. Did I really just casually suggest he could sleep in his underwear?

She paused, catching her reflection in the mirror and giving herself a brief, amused glance. He’s here. I want him here. And this feels like... well, like something I’ve been hoping would happen.

She glanced down at the nightgown she’d slipped into, a soft cotton fabric that barely brushed her knees, the cool blue color feeling delicate against her skin. It’s just a nightgown, she reminded herself, but the flutter in her chest said otherwise. No big deal, right?

She tugged at the short frilly sleeves, smoothing them down, feeling her pulse quicken just thinking about Eddie returning.

Eddie stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hands on a towel, but the moment he saw her, he stopped cold. She stood by the mirror, brushing her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, and the sight of her hit him like a truck.

God, she’s gorgeous. Like something out of a dream. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me right now.

She glanced over at him, catching his reflection in the mirror before turning to face him fully. “Hey,” she said, her voice light but carrying an undertone of something... softer.

Eddie cleared his throat, trying not to visibly gawk. He leaned casually against the doorframe, forcing a grin that he hoped didn’t look as shaky as he felt. “Well,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “looks like your pajamas win. Just my boxers can’t compete with... that.”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she held his gaze, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Guess I have better taste than you, Munson,” she teased, her confidence surprising even herself. But inside she was static. She looked him up and down

Eddie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to steady himself. “Yeah, well, if I’d known the competition was gonna be this stiff, I might’ve brought backup.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror to set down her brush, but her smile lingered. Meanwhile, Eddie hesitated in the doorway, the playful smirk on his face betraying the nervous energy coursing through him. He rubbed his palms against the sides of his thighs and glanced at her, casually—but not really—trying to figure out his next move. He hadn’t been this nervous in ages.

“Alright, Angel,” he started, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “what side of the bed am I claiming? Or are we flipping a coin for it?”

She laughed softly, turning from the mirror to face him fully. Her heart skipped at the sight of him standing there in just his boxers, his usual confidence somehow making the simple gesture of leaning against the frame look ridiculously attractive.

“The left,” she said, gesturing toward the bed. “That’s usually my side, but I’ll let you have it tonight.”

Eddie arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re giving up your side? That’s a big deal, Angel. I hope you know I don’t take this responsibility lightly.”

She rolled her eyes, climbing onto the bed and sliding under the covers. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, fluffing her pillow. “But seriously, the left side is all yours.”

Eddie crossed the room and plopped onto the mattress, testing it out with exaggerated bounces. “Alright, not bad. Better than my van. You’ve got some luxury here.” He turned his head, flashing her a grin. “You sure about this, though? Sharing a bed with a wild card like me? I toss, turn, and talk in my sleep this could be dangerous.”

She smirked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. “I think I can handle it. Just don’t hog all the covers, and we’ll be fine.” He grinned, settling in as he tugged the blanket over himself. His bare arm brushed hers, and she couldn’t help but notice how warm his skin felt. A human furnace, for sure. The thought made her heart flutter.

As she lay there, Angel felt a rush of excited nerves spiraling through her. Eddie settled in beside her, and the small space between them felt charged with an energy she’d never experienced before. She glanced sideways, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes landed on his bare chest, perfectly defined and adorned in tattoos.

Holy hell, he looks good. She couldn’t help the warmth flooding her cheeks at the thought.

Her heart raced as she shifted slightly, the sheets brushing against her skin. Seeing him in just his boxers made her pulse quicken in a way that had heat pooling low in her belly.

This is Eddie. My friend Eddie. And here we are, sharing a bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Her mind raced with sudden images of what it would be like to lean in closer, to wrap her arms around him and feel every taut muscle under her touch. Just the idea made her core dampen in excitement.

Is this really happening? Am I really lying here with him?

Eddie, on the other hand, was fighting his own wave of exhilaration. Being this close to her felt electric; her warmth, the soft scent of her hair, the way the sheets curled around her body. Everything was overwhelming in the best way. The moment he’d seen her in that nightgown, he felt a jolt of something primal, something he couldn’t quite place. She looks so beautiful, so inviting. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as they sat in the dim light, the soft shadows playing across her features.

“Hey, you cold?” he asked. He could feel the way she shivered slightly, her skin just brushing against his arm. He had to suppress the warmth crawling through him at the thought of pulling her closer. “You know, if you need to, I could always offer my cuddling services,” he said, smirking as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. “I can be a professional snuggler. Consider it my personal mission to keep you warm tonight.”

Her pulse quickened at the suggestion. “Oh, really?” she replied, trying to sound casual. But inside, she was a flurry of thoughts, battling between wanting to take him up on it and pretending she was completely unaffected. “You think you can handle my cold touch?”

Eddie laughed, the sound making her heart flutter again. “Trust me, Angel, by the end of the night, you’ll be the one begging for my warmth. Just you wait,” he said confidently. But his heart raced at the thought. This is it. She wants my warmth. She wants me to hold her. “Come on let me hold you, it’s a snowstorm out there; how can I let you freeze while I’m all toasty over here?”

Angel could feel her cheeks heat at his words, excitement rushing through her like electricity. The way he said ‘hold you’ sent her mind spinning, and she wrestled with the desire to lay her head against his chest and feel his arms wrapped around her. Why does he have to make this so tantalizing?

With a soft grin, she placed her head on the pillow directly next to him, inching closer. “Alright, snuggler, show me just how good you are at this.” Her voice came out a whisper, playful but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity that made Eddie's breath hitch.

He grinned, moving slightly closer, daring to let his bare skin make contact with hers. The warmth radiating from her felt amazing, and he could feel how beautifully soft she was against him. “Brace yourself,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It’s about to get extra cozy in here.” He shifted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her gently nearer, feeling her warmth seep into him.

Angel melted into him, the softness of his body against hers sending a thrill through her. His heartbeat was steady and comforting, a rapid drum against hers. As his arm encircled her, she felt the tension slip from her body, replaced by the undeniable warmth of being so close to someone she’d grown attached to in ways she could never have anticipated.

Eddie’s heart raced as he pulled her snugly against him, the heat radiating off her making his insides swirl. This is better than I ever could’ve imagined. The way she fit against him felt so right. He could hear the slight hitch in her breath, and it made the adrenaline rush through him even more. She’s here. Holding me, feeling this. “See?” he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. “Told you I’d keep you warm.” But inside, he was screaming in delight. The way her body felt against his was overwhelming, and he tried to focus on holding it together. Don’t screw this up, Munson. Just enjoy this moment.

Her heart raced as she heard the thud of his laying so close in the dark. “Mmm Eddie you’re so warm. You feel so strong.”

Eddie felt a rush of warmth flood through him at her words, a grin spreading across his face. The way she nestled against him, gripping onto his arm like he was her lifeline, sent a thrill racing straight to his core. He could feel her breath tickle against his skin, and it was like he was on fire, mesmerized by how close they were. “Yeah, well,” he said, his voice playful, yet laced with a newfound vulnerability, “I’ve got to keep you warm somehow.” As she snuggled closer, her cheek brushing against his, he fought to keep it together, even as butterflies erupted in his stomach. “Strong, huh?” he continued, tilting his head slightly to look at her, the proximity making it impossible for him to hold back the urge to lean in. “You sure you’re not just saying that to get me to flex or something?”

“Mmm, I might just need a demonstration,” she teased, giving his arm a playful squeeze. Her voice was light, but it belied the undercurrent of affection she felt for him. Being this close felt so natural, so electric, and she reveled in the warmth of his body. Something about the intimacy of the moment made her heart race; it was as if every inch of her was hyper-aware of his presence.

Eddie couldn't help but chuckle. “Oh, trust me, if it were flexing you wanted, I could definitely show you that,” he said, a hint of sarcasm dancing in his tone. “But for now, I think I’ll just let my warmth do the talking.” He shifted slightly, turning to face her more fully, allowing her to press against him as he wrapped his other arm around her. As he pulled her closer, he marveled at how it felt to hold her. Her body molded perfectly against his, the curve of her shoulder snug against his chest. She fit as if she were meant to be there.

“Better?” he asked softly, letting his cheek rest against her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo that was sweet with coconut and cherries—something that felt both invigorating and calming at once.

“Much better,” she murmured, a smile playing on her lips. “You really are the best at this, Eddie.”

Eddie’s heart swelled. The way she spoke made it sound like he was achieving some kind of monumental feat, like being a master cuddler was a serious accomplishment. He tightened his grip around her, letting his fingers caress her shoulder lightly, the intimacy of it making him feel both bold and protective.

“Glad I could impress you,” he joked softly, trying to maintain a light tone while the weight of the moment pressed in around them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was changing in that instant, their friendship evolving into something deeper, something undeniably thrilling. “You know, after this, I might get a bigger ego,” he added with a laugh, but his eyes held a sincerity that belied the humor.

As she snuggled closer, burying her face against his neck, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated. “You’re too humble for your own good, Eddie,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin, igniting a spark of something unnameable within him. It was a simple gesture, yet it unraveled him in ways he could never have anticipated.

For him, the boundaries they’d once tiptoed around began to blur, and as he held her tightly, he realized that he never wanted to let her go. “Just don’t forget it”

“How could I ever forget you Eddie? You're all I think about.”

Eddie’s heart hammered against his ribcage, a rapid tempo that mirrored the storm brewing outside. She was right in front of him, a vision of confidence and desire, and he wanted her more than he could articulate. But even as he leaned in to kiss her, there was a subtle tremor in his hands, a physical manifestation of the anxiety swirling in his chest.

“Are you serious?” he asked, the words escaping his lips with a breathless urgency. Doubts flickered in his mind, but her gaze was unwavering, fiery, and absolute.

“Dead serious,” she replied, her voice sultry and sure.

Eddie's heart was still racing as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers in surprise. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled and replied, "I'm kissing you," before leaning in again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intimate. Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine as her lips met his once more. He kissed her back, his lips moving tentatively at first, but as the moment deepened, he found himself getting lost in the sensation.

As they kissed, Eddie's initial uncertainty gave way to a growing sense of desire. His touches became bolder, exploring the curves of her body. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer as their lips moved together in perfect sync. The fears and doubts that had plagued him just moments before began to melt away, replaced by a sense of excitement and anticipation.

As they devoured each other's lips, their hands began to wander, seeking out the curves and contours of each other's bodies. She reached for him, her fingers tracing around his hips, teasing the hem of his boxers with a tantalizing slowness. Meanwhile, his hands glided up her thigh, slowly inching her nightgown upward, exposing the silky smooth skin beneath.

His fingers danced across her butt, tracing the rounded shape with a gentle reverence. The touch sent shivers down her spine, and she responded by tightening her grip on his hips, her thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to tease the sensitive skin beneath. Eddie's hands continued their exploration, slowly creeping up under her nightgown to tease at her sides. His fingertips grazed her skin, sending sparks of desire through her body. Finally, he found what he was searching for - her breasts - and he squeezed them gently, feeling their softness and weight in his palms. Her nipples hardened beneath his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he caressed her. His thumbs began to circle her nipples, teasing them into tight buds as he squeezed and released her breasts in a gentle rhythm. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and she felt herself melting into his touch, her body arching into his hands as she begged for more. Just as it seemed like they were going to combust from the intensity of their passion, Eddie broke away from the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers with a hungry gaze. "Can I take this off?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he tugged gently on the hem of her nightgown. The question hung in the air like a challenge, waiting for her response as they both stood there panting with anticipation.

As she spoke the words, her voice was a sultry whisper, dripping with desire and submission. "You can do whatever you want to me, Eddie," she breathed, her eyes locked on him with a fierce intensity. The phrase was a dare, a challenge, and a promise all rolled into one, and it sent a shiver of excitement down Eddie's spine.

"I want you," he growled, his voice low and husky with need. "I want all of you." The fabric whispered against her skin as it rose higher and higher, exposing her curves and contours to Eddie's hungry gaze. He watched, mesmerized, as her breasts were revealed, followed by the gentle slope of her stomach and the curve of her hips. Finally, the nightgown was pulled over her head and discarded.

Eddie's eyes drinking in the beauty of her body. He felt his desire surge to new heights as he gazed at her, his hands itching to touch and explore every inch of her skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his words barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing.

As Eddie's eyes continued to drink in the beauty of her body, she began to squirm with anticipation, her skin tingling with desire. "Touch me," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Eddie, touch me."

Eddie's hands hovered over her skin, his fingers twitching with restraint. He wanted to touch her, to explore every inch of her body, but he was hesitant to take the next step. He didn't want to do anything that might make her uncomfortable.

"Touch me," she begged again, her voice growing more urgent. "I want to feel your hands on me."

Eddie's eyes met hers, searching for guidance. "How?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, a sly smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Pull my panties down," she whispered.

Eddie's hands trembled as he reached for the waistband of her panties. He slowly pulled them down, exposing the soft skin beneath. She lifted, allowing him to slide the panties down her leg and discard them.

As soon as she was naked before him, she reached out and took his hand in hers. She guided it between her legs, placing his fingers against the soft folds of her skin. "Rub me here," she whispered, showing him how to gently circle his fingers around her clit.

Eddie watched in awe as she demonstrated how much pressure to apply, how fast or slow to move his fingers. She gasped with pleasure as he followed her instructions, his fingers dancing across her skin in a gentle rhythm.

As they laid there together, lost in the sensation of their bodies touching, she reached out and took Eddie's other hand in hers. She guided it between her legs once again, this time taking two of his fingers and placing them at the entrance of her opening.

"You can put them inside me," she whispered, looking up at him with eyes that were dark with desire.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before gently pushing his fingers into her body. As they slid inside of her warm flesh ,she let out a moan of pleasure and wrapped herself tightly around him . As Eddie's fingers slid deeper into her, she began to rock her hips back and forth, her body trembling with pleasure. He watched in awe as she moved against him, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

"More," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. "I want more."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide with wonder. His fingers are still figuring out a rhythm "You like that?" he asked breathlessly.

Angel nodded, her hips moving against his hand. “Yes Eddie, feels good, keep going," she urged, her voice husky with need. But then she saw the confusion in his eyes and realized he wasn't sure what to do next. So she took matters into her own hands, reaching down and guiding him inside her.

Eddie groaned at the feeling of his fingers being enveloped by her warmth. God it's so tight. I hope I'm not hurting her. I'm gonna try curling my fingers.

He started to move, slow at first, not wanting to hurt her. But as she began to respond, her moans growing louder, he found his rhythm. “You sound so pretty for me sweetheart”

Hearing how desperate and hot Eddie sounded was almost too much. “Eddie please... feels good”

"So wet," he murmured. His fingers curled slightly, mimicking the action he'd take once inside her. "You're so tight and warm."

Angel whimpered, already aching for his touch. She wanted him to make her feel even better than her own hand could. "Faster," she begged breathlessly. "I need it."

"Mmm you’re so hot," Eddie replied, his words filled with desire. He sped up sliding two fingers between her folds, eliciting a gasp from her lips. "So slippery and soft," he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. His finger began to pump in and out of her, the friction causing her clit to pulse. Her hips started to move on their own, seeking more pressure.

Angel reached down and wrapped her hand around his wrist, slowing him down. Grinding down on his fingers. “Focus on my clit and just tease my opening eds. Please. It feels so good”

Eddie listened, quickly pumping his fingers inside her and using the other to rub her clit, “Like that?” he huffed out.

Angel’s head fell back and her moans filled the room. “Oh! Eddie Yes! Just like that. Please. Please. I’m gonna cum.” Angel’s body arched off the bed as Eddie's thumb rubbed hard circles her clit while his fingers continued to tease her swollen entrance. The sensation was enough to send a powerful wave of pleasure through her entire being. She could feel her orgasm building, growing stronger with each flick and slide of his fingers. "Yes! Oh god, yes!" she cried out, her voice thick with desire.

Eddie smiled, watching her reaction, and continued to pleasure her exactly how she asked. He followed into her reactions learning just how to push her to the edge, making her writhe beneath him. His thumb danced across her sensitive nub, while his fingers played at her opening, torturously not giving her what she craved, but driving her wild with need all the same.

"Cum on my fingers, Angel," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

She let out a strangled moan, her hips bucking against his hand. "I... I'm so close," she panted, her nails digging into his arm. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"That's it, baby, don't hold back," he encouraged, increasing the pressure on her clit. "Let go. I've got you."

With a final flick, he sent her over the edge. Her back arched a silent scream leaving her lips as pure bliss exploded through her. Her walls fluttered around his fingers, pulsing in rhythmic waves as she rode out her climax.

As Eddie watched Angel's face contort in ecstasy, he couldn't help but get lost in the sight of her. She looked like a beautiful goddess, her body writhing and shaking as her internal muscles gripped his fingers. The feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, completely addictive.

Angel finally fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. Eddie could see how worked up she still was, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. He couldn't take his eyes off her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin and messy hair.

"Wow, that was something else," he said softly, still lost in thought.

Angel smiled at him, a warm and inviting expression that seemed to light up her entire face.

"It was incredible," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You have some skills, Eddie."

He winked at her playfully. "I'm glad my technique is improving."

Angel let out a soft laugh and reached for him, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Their tongues danced together, tasting and exploring each other's mouths. Eddie could feel his arousal growing with each passing second, his cock hardening and pressing against her thigh.

When they finally broke apart, Angel looked down between them, her eyes widening as she took in the sizable bulge straining against Eddie's boxers. She licked her lips hungrily, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I think it's time I returned the favor," she purred, her hand sliding over to palm his erection through the thin fabric. "I want to make sure you feel good to Eds. I want to feel your cock in mouth."

Eddie gasped in surprise at her bold words, his eyes widening as he took in the sultry look on her face. He'd never heard Angel talk so dirty before, and it sent a shiver down his spine. The combination of her sweet, innocent demeanor and these naughty, filthy words falling from her lips was intoxicating.

"God, Angel," he panted, his voice strained with desire. "You keep talking like that and I might just explode before you even get started."

She smirked up at him, enjoying the effect she was having. "Is that a challenge?" she teased, her fingers tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers.

Eddie shuddered, feeling himself throb under her touch. "It might be," he admitted, his breathing growing heavier by the second.

Angel didn't waste any more time. She tugged his boxers down, his aching cock springing free. It was thick with a pink tip glistening from all the precum.

Eddie watched, mesmerized, as Angel wrapped her hand around his length, her hands made him look so big he thought.

She gave him a gentle squeeze, then stroked him upward, her palm gliding over the smooth skin. The sensation was incredible, sending ripples of pleasure through his entire body.

"Ah, yes," she whispered, her voice husky and full of promise. "This is what I'm talking about."

With that, she leaned forward, her mouth opening to take him in. Eddie felt a jolt of electricity run through him as her lips closed around the head of his cock, the warmth and wetness enveloping him like a dream. He was lost in the sensation, his hips bucking reflexively into her mouth.

Angel moaned softly, the vibrations running up his shaft and making his balls tingle. She began to move her head in a slow, sensual rhythm, her tongue darting out to taste him.

"Holy fuck, Angel," Eddie groaned, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. "Your mouth feels amazing." He could hardly believe this was happening, that the sweet girl he'd known was now on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock like a pro. The sight alone was almost enough to make him cum right then and there.

"Look at you," he panted, his voice rough with lust. "You’re so fucking sexy, taking my dick like that. You like it, don't you? Like having me in your pretty little mouth." he whimpered out desperately.It was obvious he was losing himself in the pleasure and babbling nonsense.

Angel hummed in response, the sound sending shivers down his spine. She picked up the pace, her head bobbing faster as she took him deeper. Her cheeks hollowed with the effort, creating a delicious suction that made Eddie's toes curl.

"Damn, sweetheart, you're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," he warned, his breath hitching. "But I don't want it to end yet."

She pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his cock. "Then maybe we should try something different," she suggested, a sly smile playing on her lips. "

Angel laid down on the mattress, “C’mere Eds”

Eddie was excited but also nervous, some of his confidence from just a second ago leaving him, he placed himself between her legs, hovering over her and leaned down to kiss her on the head. “Tell me if it hurts or if I do something wrong.” she nodded.

He reached between their bodies and grasped himself, pumping it in his hand a few times, lining it up with her opening. He rubbed circles around her opening with his tip. This made her moan, then with a gentle push he inched into her slowly wet heat. She felt tight and silky smooth around him, her inner muscles clutching at him as he filled her completely. Angel’s breath quickened as Eddie’s movements intensified. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, stoking the fire within her. "Faster," she gasped, arching her hips to meet his. "Don't hold back."

Eddie growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Sweat glistened on their bodies as they writhed together, lost in the throes of passion.

Angel wrapped her legs around Eddie’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. She could feel every ridge and vein of his hard length stretching her, filling her completely. The pressure was delicious, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"Eddie!" she cried out, feeling herself nearly there. With one final thrust, she exploded in a powerful orgasm, her body shuddering beneath him.

"Oh my God, Angel," he panted, his eyes closing briefly as pleasure washed over him. "You feel so fucking good."

Eddie groaned deeply, the sound muffled by her neck where he buried his face. His body tensed and shuddered as he followed her over the edge, he pulled out, spilling himself onto her stomach.

Both panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath. Slowly, reality seeped back in - the feeling of sweat cooling on their skin, the scent of sex thick in the air. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then laid beside her. As their bodies slowly relaxed after the moment they had just shared, Eddie's body trembled unexpectedly. It started with a slight shiver, then gradually grew more pronounced, his muscles involuntarily twitching. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, but something about the vulnerability of the moment made his whole body shake.

Angel noticed immediately, her brows furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong Eddie, you're shaking?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a tenderness that matched the care in her eyes.

Eddie didn’t respond at first, his body still shivering, his fingers curling against the bed. He tried to hide it with a forced laugh, but it came out shaky. "I….I don’t know ."

Without hesitation, Angel pulled him closer, her hand gently rubbing his back in soothing circles. She kissed his shoulder lightly, her voice full of reassurance. "You don’t have to be tough with me, Eddie. It's okay to feel... whatever you're feeling."

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his body still trembling in her arms. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words, but his voice was a little off like he couldn't quite gather his thoughts. "I don’t know what’s happening. It's like... my body’s just freaking out."

Angel continued to hold him, her hands tracing his skin with a comforting rhythm. "It's okay," she whispered again, her voice soft as she pulled him even closer, her warmth radiating against his. "It’s normal, you’re safe. I’m here."

He clung to her, the tremors beginning to slow, his breathing finding some steadiness as she whispered words of comfort. Eventually, the shaking stopped, and he exhaled deeply, the weight of everything finally sinking in.

"I just like you so much," he murmured again, but this time, there was a deeper sincerity in his tone. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Angel smiled softly, her hand brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. "You don’t have to know," she said gently. "I’m right here, I’m with you Eddie."

As Eddie’s breathing finally steadied, a crooked grin crept onto his face, though his cheeks still carried a faint flush. He looked at Angel, his eyes warm and glinting with mischief.

"You know," he said, his voice still a little shaky but laced with humor, "when the snow clears, I think I need to head to the post office."

Angel blinked, confused for only a split second before realization dawned on her. She narrowed her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re not seriously talking about sending me a letter like Lloyd Dobler, are you?"

Eddie chuckled, the grin spreading wider as he tilted his head back against the pillow. "Busted," he admitted, the laughter in his voice easing the last bit of tension lingering in the room. "But hey, if it worked for Lloyd..."

Angel rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smile that followed. "You’re ridiculous," she teased, nudging him lightly. "Do you even know what you’d write in that letter?"

He shrugged, a mock-serious expression crossing his face. "Something profound. Like, ‘You’re amazing, and I’ll stand outside your window with a boombox any day.’"

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine as she leaned into him. "Oh, you’re full of it," she said, shaking her head fondly. "But you know what? I wouldn’t mind getting a letter like that."

Eddie’s grin softened into something more tender as he looked at her, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Noted," he said, his voice low. "But I think I’ll stick to telling you in person. Feels more... us."

Angel’s smile widened, and she rested her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "That’s perfect," she whispered, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his skin. "Just don’t expect me to buy you a boombox."

Eddie laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Deal," he said, holding her tighter.

Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments/tags

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #virgin!Eddie Munson #virgin!Eddie #Earthlyangelbbywrites #dividers by adornedwithlight

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tubborucho · 1 month ago

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Hey guys!

I have a request for my international friends that I hope some of you can help with🙏

I am currently working with kids aged 6-12 at a Montessori system school, and I recently had an idea for a new material for our language zone: a collection of small books for different languages in the world, so kids can look at them and maybe take interest in learning any of them!

I want those books to include basic words and phrases that you might need when visiting the country, numbers, colours, all that stuff.

And that's where I need help! I can, obviously, use google translator and I probably will for some languages, but it would be so nice to have actual native speakers input on how they would say this stuff in their language! So after Read More there will be a list of everything I want to include, and if any of you feel like doing it, I would love if you translated it all into your languages :)

Any language works! Other than russian and english because they already speak those

Language:

Hello -

Bye -

Thank you -

Please -

Sorry -

What is your name? -

My name is... -

How old are you? -

I am ... years old -

Help me -

I want... -

I need... -

I like... -

How are you? -

I am good/bad/neutral -

Where are you from? -

I am from Russia -

I speak russian and english -

Where is... -

I am lost -

Mister/Miss <- as in a way how to refer to people in your country -

1 -

2 -

3 -

4 -

5 -

6 -

7 -

8 -

9 -

10 -

11 -

12 -

red -

orange -

yellow -

green -

blue -

purple -

pink -

black -

white -

gray -

brown -

cat -

dog -

bird -

fish -

bunny -

snail -

parrot -

hotel -

house -

park -

grocery store -

museum -

theatre -

train station -

bus stop -

airport -

tea -

juice -

water -

hot chocolate -

cocoa -

sugar -

passport -

luggage -

wallet -

phone -

bag -

waiter -

doctor -

policeman -

mom -

dad -

brother -

sister -

grandma -

grandpa -

man -

woman -

girl -

boy -

I will tag some people I for sure know speak a language that is not english or russian, but don't feel pressured to respond!

Tags: @mikaikaika @routeriver @moomoorare

#liss writes posts

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ohmyitsfaith · 10 months ago

Text

The sunshine and the grump / Part 2

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sudden visitors show up on a calm day and chaos ensues. Who are they and where did they come from? But most importantly why are they here? You, your husband and his family are ready to find some answers.

Warnings: fighting, Sparrow!Ben being sparrow!Ben

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: Hi everyone, I know, it's been a while. But here is something that should have been done sooner. The second part to The sunshine and the grump. Please forgive me for this, but in this part Viktor is refered to as "Vanya" and using she/her pronouns. This is solely for the reason that this story is from the reader's point of view and she doesn't know that he's Viktor. If there's an interest in a new part, then obviously I will incorporate him coming out as Viktor. Anyway, long a/n to the side, I hope you guys will enjoy it!

“Shit” broke out of the six people standing in front of you collectively.

Ben guided you behind him gently, sheltering you from the strangers.

“Ben?”

A soft sigh is all that could be heard from the guy wearing a cowboy hat. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and you couldn’t even guess who he was and where he came from. You never saw him before and your husband wasn’t the type to make friends so easily. So why did this man know his name? Why did he look at him as if he saw a ghost?

“Is that really you?” the biggest guy walked forward, also looking distraught and his face twisted in confusion and grief.

“And who are those weirdos,” the walmart-batman guy yelled and you followed his line of sight, “on the balcony?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight anger, but before you could answer at all, Reginald spoke up.

“They are the Sparrows, my children.”

You felt, more than saw Ben standing up straighter and could only imagine the rest of the Hargreeves doing the same, up on the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” the small boy spoke up after the initial shock passed through his group. “What do you mean your children? That’s not possible, old man.”

“Of course it is!” Reginald exclaimed as your sibling-in-laws joined you downstairs. “I think I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

While most of the group looked at Reginald with untrusting gazes (which you could understand, he was your father-in-law and yet you didn’t trust the man fully), the cowboy hat guy was still looking at your husband with misty eyes.

“Everybody else can see Ben, right?” he asked, which made you even more confused. Why wouldn’t they be able to see your husband?

“Cute hat, Sundance” Ben said sarcastically, still keeping you behind him. You grabbed onto his arm lightly, to keep him grounded. But that’s exactly when the man noticed you and his eyes went even wider.

“Jennifer?” he asked louder, seemingly in shock and it prompted the rest of the group to look toward you, Ben’s arm curling around you protectively.

“Do not talk to my wife, asshole” he growled.

“Oh my gosh, it’s you! You- you guys are married!” cowboy hat guy gushed.

“Okay, that is it!” Ben moved to lash out against the guy, but Marcus stopped him.

“Enough” he said in his calming voice. “Who are you and why are you in our home?”

“They call themselves the Umbrella Academy,” Reginald answered instead. “A group of scheming, perfidious malcontents, who accosted me in the fall of 1963, when I was away on business in Dallas” he explained. “Be warned,“ he added, “they claim to be my spawn.”

That caught the attention of the woman with the very stylish cloak as she stepped forward.

“Claim?!” she then turned to her brother(?) in confusion. “Five, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, but it’s concerning,” the little guy, Five, sighed.

“Is he telling the truth?” Marcus spoke up, looking at the so-called Umbrella Academy.

“Well, not the part about us being perfidious-” the other woman started, just to be immediately interrupted by the cowboy-hat guy.

“No, we’re amateur-fidious, at best” he said, which just confused you and, seemingly, the rest of the Sparrows as well.

“But we are his children. This is our house” the woman confirmed.

“Yeah, yeah, we, uh… We grew up here” the big guy jumped in.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we grew up here” Alphonso mocked the guy, which made Fei and Jayme chuckle.

“I-” Sloane started. “Kinda think we would’ve noticed you.”

You could see the moment that the big guy realized who talked and just what kind of person she was. You saw his eyes light up and a dumb smile graced his features.

“Hi. I’m Luther” he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Monkey-brain” you whispered and Ben scoffed.

“Okay” the stylish woman walked towards you. “None of you belong here.”

“What?” you asked at the same time Fei said sarcastically: “Oh, well then! I guess we’ll just pack our bags and move out.”

“Yeah and while we’re at it, how about we also give you our jobs. Clearly, you are so good at it” Christopher garbled. “Seriously, these idiots can’t even understand the fact that we are the ones living here, imagine what kind of heroes they are.”

This caused the Sparrows to laugh and even you let out a chuckle. He had a point.

“You slay me, Chris,” Ben shook his head.

The next moment Grace arrived with a plate filled with cookies. At her legs was your chonky cat C/n. He meowed lowly and hissed at the new people before darting across the space, toward Ben and you.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Grace sighed as you leaned down to pick up C/n. “This is the best I could do on short-” she glitched and repeated the word again, “short… short notice.”

You winced as you stood up with C/n in your arms.

“It’s okay, darling boy” you whispered and started stroking his back. “They won’t hurt you. Daddy won’t let them.”

“Mom…” you heard wallmart-batman’s wistful voice, which immediately weirded you out.

And not just you, because Jayme spoke up as well.

“Mom? She’s a robot you perv” she scoffed.

“She’s not a robot!” wallmart-batman turned toward her defensively.

“Hey, don’t you call him that!” the big guy, Luther, snapped at Jayme.

“Or what?” Ben asked in defense of Jayme.

“Come closer and find out!” Luther stepped toward Ben as he started approaching the big guy as well.

“Luther! Guys, chill!” the smaller woman tried to stop Luther, while you reached out to stop Ben.

“Think I’m afraid?” Ben asked and you could feel his hostility roll off of him.

“Ben! Please” you asked him timidly, but your voice didn’t even reach him.

“Ben, stand down!” Marcus commanded, but Luther was speaking over him already and chaos started to form.

“Look at that, she’s got a voice!” he pointed at you.

“How about I hide that big Rubik’s Cube up your ass?” wallmart-batman asked, annoyed with Marcus.

“Enough!” Marcus finally shouted. “I don’t know what circus you escaped from,” Marcus started and you could see wallmart-batman touch his cheek, where something black just disappeared, “or how you got past our security, but we’re done here. You got 30 seconds to get out of our house” he said in a no-nonsense voice.

“And if we don’t?” the stylish woman asked just as you realized what was happening with wallmart-batman. You looked back at Jayme, who just shrugged.

“Then we’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way” Marcus stepped forward, ever the leader.

You zeroed in on wallmart-batman, who looked totally out of it, sweat on his forehead and tears in his eyes.

“What did he hallucinate?” you whispered to Jayme.

“I’ll tell you later” she smirked.

“Look, we just fought a literal army. Okay?” the short woman tried to diffuse the situation. “This doesn’t need to get ugly. Let’s all just calm down and let’s talk.”

And honestly, you were on her side. You didn’t want to risk the house or your sibling-in-laws or C/n for that matter. This could definitely be…

“Psst. Ben-er-ino” cowboy hat guy sing-songed as he looked at your husband. You could see his shoulders tense even more and an exasperated sigh left him. “You look so much better alive than you do dead.”

Oh no…

“Am I right?” cowboy hat guy asked from the Umbrellas and the only thing you could do is wince. From this point onward you wished that he shut up because even you wouldn’t be able to stop your husband if he was angered by the guy. “Except the haircut” he waved his hands.

“Oh no” you winced as Alphonso reached out and pushed you even further from the Umbrellas to keep you safe. He knew just as well as any of the Sparrows: this is where it gets ugly.

“What the hell did you just say?” Ben stepped forward.

“Come on, come on!” cowboy hat guy walked toward Ben. “Stop with all the hostility, Mr. Grumpy Pants” he stopped in front of your husband and leaned forward. “Oh, nice scar! Muy macho.”

“Oof” you commented and you could hear Jayme scoff as well.

“Shut. Your. Mouth!” Ben snarled and you knew, only a string held his anger.

“You shut your mouth and hug your brother!” cowboy hat guy exclaimed and opened his arms for a hug. And that’s exactly when Ben struck.

It was truly a beautiful hook that Ben delivered, you had to admit. But you wished that cowboy hat would’ve just stopped before it got ugly. You watched as he fell across the coffee table and it caused Luther to snap at Ben.

“Hey! What the hell?” he snapped. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I did!” Ben snapped back.

“That’s right, he did!” Alphonso backed him up.

“Hey, get back! Back off!” Marcus shouted as Luther stepped closer.

“Luther!” you heard the short woman yell out as Jayme grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the counter, just as Marcus pushed Luther.

And all hell broke loose. Marcus and Luther started fighting and the Sparrows and Umbrellas paired up as well.

“Jayme, get Y/n out of here!” Ben yelled as the small Umbrella teleported toward him and started fighting with him.

You could hear yelling from both the Sparrows and the Umbrellas as they fought and you could only try to stay calm as Jayme pulled you toward the exit. But you didn’t get far as the stylish woman intercepted you and Jayme, along with the short woman. You ducked just in time as one of Fei’s ravens dived in to try and attack the stylish woman, who immediately took up the fight.

“Sloane!” Jayme yelled out and pushed you toward the woman. “Take care of her! I have a shorter problem.”

This, C/n didn’t like and he jumped out of your hands, scratching them in the process.

“Ouch!” you hissed, holding it.

“C’mon Y/n, let’s get you out of here!”

“Alright” you nodded, frantic now that the chaos started to get to you.

You could hear Jayme knock the short woman down as Sloane tried to lead you toward the stairs. But that’s exactly where Fei and the stylish lady were fighting.

“Uh… okay, plan B” Sloane stepped back and looked up at the balcony.

“Oh, please, no” you tried to plead with her. “You know I don’t…”

“Just get to your room, we’ll get you, when we’re done here” she promised and you felt her powers wrap you up and lift you toward the balcony.

You landed behind the railing and stood up. That’s when you heard the short woman say: “My turn.”

You could see her turning… white? And you knew you had to flee. Before much else could happen though, Sloane used her powers on her as well, though less gentler than she did on you.

“Shit!” you yelled out as the short woman slammed into the pictures behind you as you ducked, afraid.

But just as you stumbled through the short hallway to be able to turn right, a knife whizzed by you and you soon heard Chris’s garbled yelling.

“Y/n, be careful!”

You looked back and saw him getting chased by wallmart-batman. You quickly fell to the left, where you could turn down the corner. Just in time, because in the next moment, Chris also turned that way, knives shooting toward him. You held your head for a second, trying to gather all your courage to move. You’ve never been this close to a fight, Ben always made sure that you were in a safe distance.

“Okay, Y/n, you have to move” you told yourself, gripping your hair. You screwed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then you stood up and sneaked toward the walkway.

But just as you reached the main staircase that led down, you bumped into the boy. Quite literally.

“Oh, you…” he narrowed his eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me” you put your arms up, in front of your face.

“You’re harmless?” the boy arched an eyebrow, suspicious of your surrender.

“I swear! I’m just Ben’s wife, a normal human!” you pleaded.

The next moment he flashed away. You flinched, but the punch never came. Instead you heard the swooshing sound three more times and he was back at the portraits. You peered over the railing to see Jayme approach him and the stylish lady. Before you could be spotted by stylish lady, you ducked back down and continued sneaking away from the scene.

“Hey!” you were almost at the end of the hall, when you heard her yell. You tried moving forward, but she was faster. She grabbed the back of your shirt, lifting you up.

“Please, please, please, don’t hurt me” you whimpered. “I’m no one, I’m just a simple girl!”

“Yeah I don’t believe that, Jennifer!” she accused you.

“That’s the second time you called me that, but I don’t…” you breathed as you felt her grip tighten on you. “I swear I don’t know who she is! I’m just Y/n!”

“Well…”

But stylish lady couldn’t say much more as Fei appeared on the stairs.

“Y/n!” she yelled for you. “Leave her alone, you bitch!”

“That’s not a nice thing to say!” stylish lady let go of you. “I heard a rumor you couldn’t move” she whispered over you and instantly, you froze.

You couldn’t move, only watch as Fei approached her and her ravens started multiplying. Stylish lady saw this and her eyes widened.

“Actually, on second thought, screw this” she said, turning around and making a run for it.

You were left there by her, still unable to move.

“Y/n, I’ll deal with her and take care of you” Fei leaned down to you as she reached you. “I promise I’ll avenge this.”

You could only look forward as Fei left you once again. You could hear the commotion behind you as Fei’s ravens started destroying a door somewhere close to you. Not much later you actually heard the familiar swooshing sound of the boy teleporting and his frantic muttering.

Suddenly whatever spell was placed on you was broken and you fell forward.

“Oh God” you sighed out, grabbing at your elbow which you hit as you fell. You also saw the dried blood on the back of your hand where C/n scratched you. Poor kitten was probably scared out of his mind.

“Vanya, get out of there!” you suddenly heard the boy shout and you slowly stood up to peer over the railing, into the living room.

There lay the short woman on the broken table and the Sparrows slowly surrounded him. You saw her breathing hard and groaning, trying to get back up. Suddenly she started glowing white. You couldn’t make sense of it, but knew it couldn’t be any good.

“Ben, be careful!” you shouted just before she… exploded? Her energy exploded, which threw you back to the railing behind you.

It was over before you knew it and could hear the others groaning and getting up from the debris.

“Oh god…” you heard Chris garble. “What the hell was that?”

Marcus appeared in your vision and offered a hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Never better” you groaned, accepting his hand. He pulled you up and led you to the balcony, where he looked down at the destruction.

“It’s over” he started. “Go. Don’t come back.”

You could only focus on Ben, who stood in front of the fireplace, clutching his side. Marcus sighed next to you as him and the rest of the Sparrows watched the woman, Vanya, exit.

“Y/n” Marcus turned to you. “C’mon, I’ll take you to Grace, she’ll fix you up.”

You nodded silently, sparing another look at your husband and his family standing in the debris.

You sighed as you exited the bathroom. It’s been about an hour since you got stitched by Grace (when you hit the railing it split the skin on your head open) and then you went to take a shower to freshen up. Meanwhile though, your husband was nowhere to be found around you.

You could only guess that they got a dressing down from Marcus, blaming them for the destruction. So you headed to the only place where you knew they could be: the training room.

“Y/n!” you heard Grace’s voice call out as you headed toward the room. “Do you need a smoothie too?”

“No thanks, Grace” you smiled at the robot. “I’m fine. Is that for the guys?”

“Of course, they need their greens for their training” she said as she caught up with you.

You nodded silently and opened the door in front of you.

“The skinny one is their weak link” you heard Fei say as you entered.

“Unless hiding behind couches shouting, ‘Where’s my daddy?’ is his superpower” Ben replied sarcastically.

Grace put the tray down on the table and you leaned against the wall to watch your husband stop the treadmill and slow to a walk before getting off of it.

“Enough post-gaming. They hurt Y/n and disrespected us!” he said as he walked toward you. “We need to be out there finding these freaks and taking ‘em out!”

He reached you and put an arm around you, kissing your forehead gently, which contrasted so much from his harsh words.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Marcus asked and switched whatever video was playing to the surveillance footage of the last moment of the fight. The others sighed and stopped their treadmills as well. Marcus walked in front of them and shook his head. “Can someone explain to me how you got your asses handed to you in 30 seconds?”

You sighed, massaging Ben’s back as he stiffened at Marcus’s admonishments.

“Do you have any idea what would happen to our reputation if anyone had seen that?!” he yelled at the end, pointing to the TV screen. “I mean we hadn’t faced any decent enemies for years. This could be good for us. Good for business. But only if we’re smart with our next moves.”

“Is that all you care about?” you spoke up suddenly, annoyed to see that the version of him that only cared about missions and being famous came out.

“I’m sorry?” he turned toward you.

“Did you even try to think about what these people could be here for? That what they were saying is true?”

“Y/n…” Ben shushed you. “Don’t make things worse, darling.”

“I’m not trying to. But did you even notice their faces? When they were talking, when they looked at you?” you looked at him. “The way they fought? I mean tell me if their style doesn’t seem familiar…”

“Y/n, this discussion is not for you. Our next move is not for you to decide” Marcus spoke up sternly. “You are not a Sparrow. You are not part of the team.”

“Fine” you gritted your teeth, then pulled out of Ben’s arms and turned around, just as Reginald came in.

“Nice one dipshit” Ben snarled at Marcus.

“You summoned, Number One?” Reginald asked Marcus.

Marcus regarded Ben and you for a second, before looking at Reginald.

“Sit” he said and you walked out.

You leaned against the wall as the door closed behind you and took a deep breath. You thought about all that the Umbrellas said before the fight ensued. And one thing stuck out.

It looked like they recognised you. But not all of them. And they called you… someone. Some other name… what was it?

Oh yeah, Jennifer. But who was this Jennifer?

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Taglist: @divergentnewt23, @evie2407, @snixx2088, @inkedeye2345

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x you #ben hargreeves x y/n #ben hargreeves #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x y/n #tua x reader #tua x you #tua x y/n #the umbrella academy ben #tua ben #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben x you #sparrow!ben x y/n #sparrow!ben

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