#i just have been feeling a lot if anxiety about this

[stevie-petey]

chapter six: e pluribus unum

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?” Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!”  “Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Summary: things get hot and heavy in the face of death, mean russians kidnap your hot almost-boyfriend, you have a philosophical discussion about nerdiness with the kids, acid becomes your new favorite weapon, and steve and robin try drugs together. yippee !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence, cursing, blood and mentions of death, use of weapons

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: oh BOY do i have a lot to say about this chapter ,,, but for now i will hold off. pls, enjoy her. youve all waited so very patiently for this moment, and im SO excited to see what yall have to say <333

-

“The gate,” you, Steve, and Dustin breathe out at the same time. You stare at the machine before you; the gravity of the situation settles upon all of you as the machine continues to send pulses of light into the entrance of the Upside Down. 

The lights flash, the blue flickers across your face as countless men in lab coats marvel at their creation, and your hands tighten into fists. What they have created will only undo the endless hours you have spent trying to protect everyone, it diminishes every sacrifice that has been made, it taunts the blood that has been spilled. 

You hate them, you hate what they have brought back into your life. 

“We have to get out of here.” No one argues with you, and quickly you guide everyone downstairs.

“What’s going on?” Robin asks as you gently push her down the stairs, quickening her pace. The urgence of your actions, however, only alert her that something is wrong. “Why do you guys look so scared?”

Days of hiding the truth from her have finally caught up to you, you can feel it, and yet there isn’t anything you can really tell her. Not yet, at least; there isn’t enough time. Hurrying down the stairs, you shake your head at Robin. “It’s a lot to explain.”

“I don’t understand, you’ve seen this before?”

She’s always been too perceptive.

You hate her genius mind. 

“Not exactly.” Steve takes over now, trying to help.

Robin’s voice raises, she’s becoming inpatient. “Then what, exactly?”

Two of them argue and Dustin joins in, though you ignore them and reach the last step to start looking for any possible weapons in the room. If you guys have even the slightest chance of making it out of here alive, then you’ll need more than your switchblade and Steve’s surprising new combat skills. 

As your eyes scan the room, you realize, too late, that the Russian guard Steve had knocked out only minutes ago is now gone. Horrified, you frantically whip your head to find him, but the man is gone. 

Wonderful. 

Erica notices this too. “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?”

With impeccable comedic timing, lights begin to flicker above you as an alarm sounds. Seems the Russian guard snitched, then. 

“Oh, shit!” Your switchblade finds its way into your hand. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

Steve curses as well and sprints to the door to open it, trying to find another way out, but instead he finds a swarm of guards all staring back at him. Cursing again, he slams the door shut. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know by the look on his face that you’re in deep shit. “Go, go, go!”

Blindly you shove Dustin and Erica into the nearest door, tugging at Robin, and Steve takes the rear as the group starts to run. Your senses are in overdrive, your head swims with anxiety and your eyes flicker to any possible way out. Your legs ache with exertion, but you have no fucking idea where you are. 

You make a sharp right and open a random door, but almost immediately you stumble to a halt when you see that it’s the room to the goddamn machine opening the Upside Down. Of course this is the room you chose. The scientists all stare at you, and you really wish you had stayed in bed yesterday. “Fuck!”

“Go, Y/N!” Dustin yanks on your arm and goes left, finding stairs to run down.

You risk a quick look over your shoulder and your heart drops when you see that the Russian guards are close behind. “We got company!” You’re on the landing platform now, too close to the machine and the gate for your own comfort. Dustin screeches as he shoves a Russian against the railing. You wince, feeling bad despite the horrible circumstances. “Sorry!”

“Why are you apologizing to the Russians–holy shit–” Gripping the back of your brother’s shirt, you save him from face planting into the giant laser beam. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

Steve and the others have joined now, and you realize how helplessly cornered the five of you are. You’re standing on the edge of the platform and the laser’s heat can be felt even six feet away while twenty armed Russian soldiers approach from behind. 

Defeated, helpless, terrified, you turn to the person whose hand rests gently on the small of your back; the only person who gives you solace. “Steve.” 

It’s all you can say, your knees feel weak and your body turns to his, helpless. You don’t know what else to do. Steve’s eyes find yours, he can feel Dustin looking to him for help as well. Robin, Erica. Everyone is looking to him, and yet he’s just as terrified. 

“This way!” He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to protect you. Running back down the stairs, he shoves a guard that blocks the path and you’re right behind him, pushing barrels at more guards that round the corner so that no one else can follow. 

“Go!” You wave the others ahead, now taking the rear with Steve. The two of you do whatever you can to slow the Russians down as Robin leads the kids towards another door. You’re all blindly running through the endless walls of the facility.

The door flies open and everyone rushes into the room. 

Everything happens quickly after that.

Steve slams the door while you hold the kids behind you, away from the door and fearful of the bullets that may rain through it. Steve braces his back against the door. The Russians pound the frame from the other side. 

Madly looking around for any sign of an exit, your body fills with unbearable dread when you realize that you’ve locked yourselves in a room without any way out. 

Dustin’s scared hand grips at your arm. He seems to realize what you already have. “Shit!”

“Robin!” Steve calls out to her, desperate. He’s rapidly losing his footing to hold his position as the guards’ fists rage a relentless war. “Help me, come on!”

She runs to him and throws her back against the door as well, and the distress in Steve’s voice only hastens you as you run around the room. There has to be a way out. You refuse to die like this, far below Hawkins and the sunlight you’ve come to love within the small town. 

Breath quickening, you rush up the steps within the room and drag Dustin along with you. Robin’s face is red now, Steve’s feet keep slipping, and from the force of which the door they hold thuds, you know the guards have started to throw their own bodies against it. 

Something creeks below your foot. You look down and inexplicably hope jumps into your chest. There’s a vent grate, this entire underground facility is full of air ducts, it’s how you got into this entire fucking mess in the first place. “Here! I found something!”

Erica joins you and Dustin and quickly the three of you pry the vent open. You help Erica lower herself inside, instructing her to start crawling, now, when Dustin shouts down to Robin and Steve. “Come on!”

“Go! Just get out of here!” Steve screams back, groaning as the pounding on the door becomes more and more violent. 

Your hand, which had been on your brother’s back, ready to help him inside the air duct next, stills. Your entire body freezes as you look over at Steve, ice cold fear crawls up your neck; doubt creeps in as you realize, far too late, that there isn’t enough time for them to escape into the vent. 

There never seems to be enough time. 

But you have to try anyway. All you ever do is try, you will die trying, you just can’t let it be in vain. “Steve, Robin, let’s go!”

Steve clenches his teeth as another body throws itself against the door. Through his exertion he can see how pale you are now, the realization that dawns on you that you will have to leave him behind, and Steve wishes he could kiss the despair off of your pretty face. “No! Just go and get some help, okay?”

“I–I can’t–” Dustin tugs at your shirt to come with him, but your body is unmoving. You can’t, you won’t leave them behind, Steve’s biceps strain against the doorframe and Robin groans in pain, and yet your brother’s fearful grip on you reminds you of your responsibility to him as well. To protect him, to get Erica home, be with them.

But Steve is in danger. He needs you.

You don’t know what to do. 

“Y/N!” Dustin calls after you as you tear yourself away from him.

Blindly, as your vision darkens and the terror in your body threatens to consume you, you stumble down the steps towards Steve. You need to be close to him, it’s all your mind and body can register as the roaring in your head nearly deafens you.

As soon as you’re in front of him, grasping at his shoulders to try and take him with you, Steve pushes you away. “Y/N, you need to leave–”

“I’m not leaving you!” The shrillness scares even yourself, the sheer desperation to stay with Steve comes deep from within your chest as you scream at him. You’re panicking now, angry at him for even considering the idea that you’d ever leave him. As if you haven’t just gotten him back.

You’re never letting go of him now that you have him. 

Not again. 

Robin tries to reason with you herself, distantly you think she pleads with you, but your vision tunnels and all you can see is Steve. Your body hums with the need for his.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Another thud against the door, Robin’s foot slips, and Steve has to throw his head back and brace for yet another impact. He’s angry at you, too. For not listening to him. For how you’ve always blindly sacrificed yourself, harmed yourself to protect others.

Steve won’t let you hurt yourself anymore, not when he can save you.

Not again.

“The kids need you–”

“I need you!” Tears wet your face now, you’re clutching at Steve’s shirt as Dustin continues to scream at you to run, to not abandon him, and it feels as if you can’t breathe as words begin to tumble from your mouth with hysteria. “We–we can run, right now! You’re fast, and–and Robin can jump and–”

Steve’s lips crash against yours. 

He’s weak and scared and helpless; this is the only way he knows how to get you to listen. 

You breathe in sharply as his lips move against yours, you melt into him. He pours everything into the kiss, your teeth knock against his and your hands find his hair, tugging at it as Steve tries to convey everything that time won’t allow him to. 

The kiss is rushed, it’s messy and it’s aching, and through it Steve begs you. To love him despite the fact that he has to leave you, that he’s doing this for you, he begs you to remember him, and selfishly he kisses you because he doesn’t want to die knowing he’s wasted half the damn summer without ever knowing how your lips felt against his. 

It isn’t death that terrifies Steve, it’s the idea that he almost died without knowing how you tasted. 

When Steve finally pulls away, you’re too shocked to move. His lips are tinged pink and his brown eyes are dark in the lighting and you’re both breathless. Your hands remain in his hair, all you can register is how the strands feel between your fingers and that Dustin is now at your side, yanking at your arm to follow him back towards the vent. 

Numbly you allow Steve’s hands to help Dustin move your limp body, your feet rise to reach the steps. The warmth of Steve’s body is gone now. Faintly you feel your brother’s firm, but gentle, hands as he shoves you inside the vent.

There’s a tugging within your chest suddenly, an overwhelming sensation to turn around, and abruptly you come back to yourself. The roaring in your head quiets for only a moment, the lights are bright and Dustin’s fingers dig into your skin, yet still your eyes find Steve.

He’s far below you now, the Russians have almost broken through the door, and his kiss still sears your lips. Urgently, viciously, you scream the only thing you can think of that encompasses all the love and terror within you, “Come home to me!”

Steve opens his mouth to promise you that he will, he always will. You can hear the promise even before he’s said it, but the doors burst open and Dustin slams the vent’s grate down. 

You ran out of time. 

The echo of the grate’s slam rings in your ears. 

– 

Erica is the one that guides you through the air ducts. 

You haven’t said anything since leaving Steve and Robin behind; it’s been hours now, and yet still you do not speak.

Dustin crawls behind you, worried. He watches your body shake slightly as you crawl through the narrow space. His stomach lurches when he notices how white your knuckles have become from how tightly you clench your fists. 

You’re clinging onto what little resolve you have left, it’s evident to Dustin, and he worries about when, not if, you’ll finally snap. He knows that now isn’t the right time to initiate a code blue, but he’s concerned seeing you so broken. He hates that he can’t do anything, that he dragged you away from the others. 

The air inside the ducts is warm, almost nauseatingly so, and the ringing in your ears has yet to fade. Steve’s kiss still burns your lips. His promise to you, that he would return and come back home to you, the promise that he couldn’t make, drowns out all of your other thoughts. 

Come home to me.

He hadn’t had time to answer you. 

The thought nauseates you more than the sickening heat that surrounds you. You left him. Robin, too. 

You left them both behind, just like you left Will behind the night the Demogorgon got him. And the kids, that night when you abandoned them at the middle school and left them vulnerable to that fucking monster. And Jonathan, when he thought his brother had died and you were too lost in your self pity when he needed you the most. 

Now, after promising Steve you’d stay, sworn in the passenger seat of his car as the snow fell around you both, you’ve left him once more. 

Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.

The promises you’ve made burn so deeply that a wince escapes your lips, and Dustin quietly asks if you’re okay. 

“‘M fine,” you manage to rasp out, crawling forward despite the tormented tugging that begs you to turn around.

You hear Dustin’s lips part, he doesn’t believe you and wants to argue, but you keep your head turned away from him and he instead settles on sighing. You’re not ready to talk about it, not yet. Not now, not when you feel as if you’ve lost a piece of yourself. 

Erica turns a corner and starts to slow down. “Fans up ahead.”

“Great,” Dustin groans when he sees the giant blades spinning, blocking the way forward. “Think we could time it right and jump through them?”

“If you wanna lose a head, sure.” Erica snorts, unpleased with the risky idea. “Don’t you have tools in those lame ass cargo shorts you’re wearing?”

“My cargo shorts aren’t lame…”

You sit quietly as Dustin and Erica try and figure out what to do. You’re still in shock, you can’t gather the energy to try and help them. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside of you, deactivating your ability to do anything other than be plagued with the crippling sensation of loss. 

Eventually Erica convinces Dustin to try and break into the control panel next to the fans and shut them down manually. He pulls a screwdriver from one of his pockets (to Erica’s utter amusement), and starts unscrewing the bolts. Through it all, you remain quiet, and when Dustin looks over at you, he finds you staring blankly at the walls with an almost lifeless gaze.

He sighs. Needing to distract himself, Dustin figures now is as good a time as any to explain everything to Erica. The Russians, why they’re here, why you’ve almost lost your mind trying to protect everyone. “It all started the night Will disappeared, two years ago.”

Dustin explains the Upside Down, the Demogorgon and how it was able to travel to their world through a gate El had accidentally opened with her powers, and now how the Russians have somehow found this gate and are attempting to reopen it.

Erica, to her credit, listens. She doesn’t question a thing, and Dustin is surprised by her lack of sarcastic input, but when he finishes explaining everything, the girl only has doubts about one thing: Lucas being involved. 

“Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement?” Dustin asks the girl, in disbelief of how her mind works. 

“That’s correct.”

Then, surprising them both, you finally speak. “Lucas is brave, Erica. He’s done a lot for the party.”

Erica’s stony expression softens slightly, her usual argumentative demeanor backs down. “Yeah, well. Whatever. You’re damn lucky it’s your birthday and I feel bad for you.”

It’s not much, but you know that she’s spared you her malice. For once you accept the sympathy, even if your luck has run out hours ago when Steve kissed you and then tore you apart. “Lucky,” you snort. “Yeah.”

Dustin and Erica look at one another wearily, though you pretend you don’t see it. After a few heartbeats, your brother clears his throat and goes back to unscrewing the control panel.

“Um, you need help with that?” Erica asks the boy, doubtful of his capabilities. When Dustin tells her no, she doubles down. “I mean, it’s taking a while, so–”

Dustin huffs at her. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Don’t cuss at her.” You butt in, but Erica has already started back with her arguing. 

She claims that at the slow pace you’re going, Steve and Robin stand no chance, and her words make the nausea claw up your throat. Dustin notices the way you clutch at your stomach and he quickly tries to reason with Erica, maybe say that she’s wrong, but the girl only continues to talk. 

“I mean, we’ve made it about point-three miles in nine hours.” Erica looks down at her watch as she speaks, but her eyes almost swim with the numbers you assume she invisions in her mind. “Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I’d estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately twelve and a half days.”

You and Dustin look at each other, baffled. No way Erica managed to come up with those numbers all on her own. Sure, you’ve always secretly suspected that she was more intelligent than she let on, but Jesus. You can hardly remember the multiples of seven on a good day. 

“Did you just do all of that in your head?” Dustin asks her, eyes wide with astonishment.

Erica shrugs. “I’m good with numbers.”

“That’s an understatement,” you mumble under your breath, though you’re starting to feel more like yourself again. Dustin calls Erica a nerd, which she adamantly denies, and the light hearted conversation almost seems to draw you out of your state of shock, albeit slowly. 

Your brother lists off all the proof he has of Erica’s “nerdiness” and you listen, chuckling. The genuine offense on the girl’s face is hard not to laugh at, and when Dustin sees that it seems to be cheering you up, he doubles down on his efforts. 

“Fact number three: you love My Little Pony.” He holds up Erica’s backpack that has two ponies printed across it, which you snort at.

Erica crosses her arms defensively. “And what does My Little Pony have to do with this?”

“Let’s recall the ponies’ latest adventure, shall we?” Dustin clears his throat and begins retelling the tales of the ponies, and you cannot believe that your fourteen year old brother still watches the show and pays enough attention to understand its themes and narrative. “Ergo, My Little Pony is nerdy. Ergo, you, Erica, are a nerd.”

“Not to take sides,” you poke your head between the two kids. “But why do you know so much about the show, Dustin?”

“Because I’m a nerd.” He manages to get the control panel open and rips the wires out of it. Electric sparks fly as they disconnect and the fans behind you slowly come to a stop. “Now, let’s go, nerds.”

Erica glares at him before turning to you. “Do you watch My Little Pony, Y/N?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not that pathetic. I read comics instead, like the mature seventeen year old I am.”

The girl rolls her eyes at you, entirely over you and your brother, and starts crawling through the air ducts once more. As she leaves, Dustin stays behind. “Hey,”

His hand wraps around your arm and stops you from following Erica. You pause, confused as to what he may want. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” In the lighting, for just a moment, Dustin looks up at you and he’s the nine year old little boy who once feared you would get lost in your mother’s grief and father’s anger.

The last icy tendrils of shock melt, you come back to yourself when you hear your little brother’s fear for his sister. Taking Dustin’s hand into yours, you squeeze it. “Of course I’m okay. I have you.” 

Dustin laughs softly, relief evident within his exhale, and you yank his hat off of his head to break the remaining tension away. He lunges for it, betrayed, though he laughs again anyways, and for a few seconds it’s just the two of you giggling to yourselves as you fight over the hat. 

“Are you two shitbirds coming, or do I gotta kill those Commies on my own?” Erica shouts, now on the other side of the air duct.

With one last tug, Dustin tears the hat from your grasp and sticks his tongue out at you. “Last one to Erica owes the other $5!” He starts speed crawling towards the girl, giving you absolutely no chance of winning, and you hang your head in defeat and sigh.

The fucker owes you so much money already.

–

It takes hours.

Back aching and knees bruised, you crawl behind the kids in the seemingly endless maze that resides in the facility’s air ducts. It’s similar to the tunnels you walked through what feels like years ago originally, with Steve holding your hand through it all, though you know it couldn’t have been less than a day ago now.

The entire time, your mind doesn’t once quiet its concern for Steve and Robin. Just when the pounding in your head becomes splitting, Dustin stops you and Erica.

“Y/N, help me remove the vent.”

“Why, what’s up there?” You’re next to him, squinting through the grate’s small holes. All you see are what appear to be a line of vaults, though it’s hard to tell. “I don’t see anyone.”

Dustin starts prying at the vent. “Exactly, there’s no one up there and look, can’t you see it?”

You squint again, getting even closer to the holes to peer inside. Something glows bright green on one of the vault’s shelfs. “Is that…?”

“Uh huh. Now help me, will you?”

It takes a minute or so before you’re able to pry the vent open. Together, the two of you slowly lift your heads through the opening and look around. The room you’ve ended up in is empty. Along its walls are rows of vaults with multiple vials of the green chemicals you found in the elevator. 

You’re not entirely sure what your brother has in mind, but you know it can’t be anything good.

“Jackpot!” Dustin breathes out with newfound exhilaration. He climbs out of the air duct first and eagerly starts looking around while you help Erica out. 

The two kids look around in amazement, but you survey the area out of habit. It’s too quiet within the room. Being so close to the chemicals again leaves you on edge. “Stay close to me, we don’t know who could be nearby–”

“Oh!” Dustin abandons your caution in a heartbeat. He starts running down the steps, and when you see what’s gotten him so excited, you follow after him. There’s a cart right at the bottom of the stairs, parked to the side without anyone in it. 

It could be your ticket out of here, if you’re lucky.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica teases Dustin, but you step past her and join him to inspect the vehicle. 

He waves an indifferent hand at her. “How hard can it be? Max did it.”

“That was the worst car ride of my life” You shiver at the memory. The taste of blood fills your mouth and you can almost feel the bruises again. Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus. “Think you could hotwire this?”

Dustin furrows his brows and ducks his head under the wheel. He shuffles around, mumbling to himself, before he curses. “No, it’s one of those fancy, expensive carts. Which is goddamn ironic for people who hate wealth. We need a key.”

“Okay, that’s not how Communism necessarily works–”

“Did you two seriously think they’d leave keys in there?” Erica interrupts you, cutting straight to the point as she always does. 

Dustin starts digging around the cart now. He checks the mirror compartment, under the seat, wherever his hands can reach. “There’s gotta be a spare…” When he comes up with nothing, he shoves you out of the cart. “Go and look inside the vault room.”

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt.” Though you do as you’re told, trusting that the room is secure enough to leave him and Erica alone for a few minutes as you look.

There are vials everywhere, but no signs of a spare key. You wander the rows, the green liquid glows ominously. Drawing your face closer to one of the vials, the liquid bubbles in its glass container. This small, inconspicuous vial is what melted cement back at the elevator.

An idea comes to you. 

“Dustin,” you call over your shoulder, eyes still on the chemical. “What if we grabbed some of these vials and used them as some kind of weapon? I mean, it’s some pretty powerful stuff.” No one responds, which you frown at. It’s then that you realize it’s become suspiciously quiet, and with your heartbeat in your throat, you run back towards the kids. 

You find Dustin with spare keys in his hand, a proud smile on his face. “Found ‘em.”

“I’m going to start making you pay me every time you give me a goddamn heart attack.” A hand rests against your chest as you try to lower your heart rate. “I mean, this just can’t be good for me–”

A loud, spine tingling crack of electricity zaps behind you.

Screaming, you jump at the noise and into Dustin’s side. You both turn around, coming face to face with a giant electric prod held by a smiling Erica. 

“What the hell is that?” Dustin shouts at her, fear still in his voice. 

“A deadly weapon.” She zaps it again and the sound is deafening. “Could be useful.”

Both hands on your chest now, you hunch over and try to not to have a heart attack right then and there. “You kids are going to kill me one day.” You swallow, take a deep breath. “God, why can’t we stick with knives? They’re quiet, quaint. Not at all terrifying.”

“Knives against Commies? I thought you wanted to save your boyfriend, Y/N.” Erica swings the prod as she speaks and you hold your hands up.

“Let’s not swing that around, okay? The last thing I need today is to be electrocuted by that thing.” When she lowers the prod, you continue. “But…  you should keep it. It’ll be useful for saving Steve and Robin.”

Dustin steps in front of you. “Wait a minute, aren’t you always lecturing me about being realistic? We don’t even know where they are.”

“And aren’t you always lecturing me about putting the party first?” You can’t believe that Dustin isn’t tearing the place apart to find Steve. “We can’t just leave them here. No way you think I’d let you do that.”

“But there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that!” He points at Erica’s electric prod. He starts walking towards the cart, keys in hand, and beckons you to get inside it as well. “Admit it, the best thing we can do for them is get out of here and find help. Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially.”

“No.” You don’t step foot in the cart.

“Just trust me on this.” Dustin tries to get you into the cart, but you plant your feet on the ground and refuse to move. “Y/N, please don’t be difficult right now.”

“I said no.” Your voice hardens. Dustin has never been one to back away from a challenge, and yet here he is. Accepting defeat and leaving Steve and Robin to suffer the consequences of it. You’ve always been the first to stand behind realism, to denounce insane ideas and stunts that the party always manages to get itself into, but this time it’s different. 

Somewhere within these walls, your friends are facing unimaginable terrors. They sacrificed themselves to save you and the kids. Once again, Steve Harrington has saved your life.

And you’ve always evened out your debts to him. 

“We’re going to look for them.” You walk back into the vault room and start grabbing vial after vial of chemicals. There’s an air of authority in your demeanor, daring the kids to argue with you. You’re taking control now after being numb for so long. Dustin follows you, tries to argue, but you continue grabbing vials from the shelves as a plan forms in your head. “We are going to grab as many of these as we can, load them up into the cart, and then drive around this shithole until we find our friends.”

You shove the vials into Dustin’s arms. He blinks at you, this is the most clear headed he’s seen you since descending down in the elevator. Marching back towards the cart, you place your own vials down. “Then, we are going to use whatever chemical this is to cause a distraction. We’ll melt something, maybe cause a fire. I don’t give a shit what we do. All I know is that we are going to then save our friends and get the fuck out of this hellscape. Do I make myself clear?”

Dustin and Erica stare at you, jaws slacked, both now sitting in the cart. Taking their silence as a yes, you nod, pleased. “Fantastic. Now, my dear brother, start driving or I will. Either way: we’re leaving.”

He gulps and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. When you’ve settled into the back of the vehicle, he starts the cart. “Let’s go, then.”

As Dustin drives, Erica twists in her seat to look at you. She’s impressed, albeit still slightly terrified. “Have you always been so scary?”

“Yes. I just hide it well. Makes it more useful when I need it.” 

– 

You’ve just finished counting the vials when Erica seems to decide now is an appropriate time to ask invasive questions. 

“So what do you see in that hair guy?”

“You mean Steve?” Although, you suppose that hair guy is a pretty good indicator for him.

Erica nods. “Yeah, I just don’t understand how someone like him could impress you. He wears a sailor’s uniform and flings ice cream all day long.”

You’re oddly touched by this, though her description of Steve makes you sad. He’s so much more than just some guy who scoops ice cream. He’s brave, selfless, sensitive, and kind. “Don’t give me too much credit. There’s a lot you don’t know about Steve.”

She makes a disgusted face. “Yuck. It sounds like you love the guy.”

Dustin cringes and looks disgusted as well. He doesn’t want to hear his sister waxing and waning about his friend. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

Erica pinches his side, causing him to nearly crash the cart into the wall. “I’m an inquisitive person and clearly they’re in love. Y/N almost bit your head off when you suggested abandoning him.”

“Okay, I didn’t suggest abandoning him.”

“It’s just the facts!”

They argue, forgetting that you’re there. However, you need the distraction, and talking about Steve has always made you feel braver than you really are. A smile spreads across your face when you think about him. The words spill from your mouth without any effort. “I do love Steve.”

Dustin’s arguing fades away. His eyes meet yours in the cart’s rearview mirror. He already knew that you loved Steve, but to hear you say it, to see the blush that invades your face whenever you talk about him, it makes everything more real. Guilt washes over him. He wanted you to leave the boy you love behind. 

“Look,” Dustin sighs. He needs to get this off of his chest. “I’m sorry about telling you to leave Steve and–”

A scream echoes within the hall. It’s feminine, familiar. 

“Robin,” your stomach twists. She’s alive. And close. She has to be close if you can hear her screams. You grab Dustin’s shoulder. “Go!” 

He slams on the gas and the cart picks up speed. Rounding the corner, he brakes harshly and you’re in yet another hallways. It’s silent, there isn’t anyone there. You close your eyes, you’re close. You can feel it, but you can’t locate them if you don’t know where they are. 

“C’mon, Robin, “ you plead. “Help us find you.”

Another scream, this time it sounds even closer.

“That way!” Erica points left, and there’s no time to doubt if she’s right. The three of you jump out the cart and grab the chemicals. Dustin also grabs the electric prod, and then you all start running. 

Robin screams again, and this time you can place which door it comes from. Adrenaline rushes through you. You have to work fast. At the end of the hall you see what looks to be an alarm switch on the wall. It wasn’t a part of your plan earlier, but it’ll have to do.

“Erica, go to the switch down there. When I say go, you press it. Alright?” She nods at you, quickening her pace. You turn to Dustin next, grabbing the vials from him. “Get the prod ready. I’ll throw the vials.”

When you get to the door that separates you from Robin, you press your ear against it. Voices are muffled, but still Steve's voice comes through as well. Your heart jumps. He’s with her. He’s alive as well. 

Erica stands at the end of the hall and you hold your palm up, signaling her to wait. Looking at Dustin, he nods at you and holds the prod to his chest. Taking a deep breath, you start throwing the vials harshly against the floor.

You use all the anger within you to guide what little strength you have left. The anger drives you, it propels the vials, it shatters them. The chemicals spill everywhere. The cement floor begins to erode away, sizzling. After you’ve thrown your last one, you shout to Erica, “Now!”

Alarms sound overhead. Erica runs back towards you and you shove the kids behind a barrel. Within seconds the hallway fills with Russian guards and they swarm around the melted floor, but you keep your eyes on the door. Silently you beg for your plan to work. The door has to open, whoever is inside has to come and investigate the damage you’ve caused. 

An agonizing three seconds pass. Sweat drips down your face. Then, a man comes crashing out of the door. He marches down the hallway and disappears when he turns the corner. As soon as he’s gone, Dustin slams through the door. There’s a man dressed in doctor’s scrubs within the room, but your brother attacks him with the prod and knocks him out quickly.

Erica and Dustin stand over the unconscious man. They’re surprised the plan has worked. Yet all you see is Steve. 

Everything else fades away. He’s tied to a chair, his face is bleeding. You run towards him, uncaring about whatever else may be in the room. A whole fucking army of Russians could be standing next to you right now and you still wouldn’t spare them a single glance. 

“Oh, honey.” The sentiment drips from your lips as your knife cuts through the rope that binds him. You’re so fucking relieved that he’s okay, that Robin is as well. But there’s so much blood. In your periphery you see a tray with a bone saw on it. 

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?”

Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!” 

“Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Dustin starts to help you untie Steve. “Get ready to run.” He instructs them with a firm voice. However, Robin and Steve continue to laugh. As if this is all one big joke to them. 

They almost seem… drunk. 

But there isn’t time to ask any questions. Any minute now the guards will return. You cut the last rope that’s tied around Robin and ask Erica if she can carry her. They’re too loopy to walk straight, you’ll need to help Dustin carry Steve back to the cart.

It takes a lot of yelling, slapping Steve’s hand away from your face as you struggle to drag his limp body to the cart, more bribes for Robin than you ever would’ve imagined, but miraculously you get the two idiots into the cart parked outside. 

As soon as they’re secured in the back with you, Dustin steps on the gas and you leave the Russians behind.

“Tried promising you I’d come home, angel.” Steve is sprawled on your lap. His eyes are cloudy, he isn’t quite here with you. 

“You didn’t have to say anything. I knew you’d promise me.” You reassure him. Carefully, you brush hair out of his face and you inspect his wounds. The cuts don’t look too deep, but you’re worried he might have yet another concussion. Thankfully, however, the blood has already started to scab over. The worst of it is over, and yet your heart still constricts when you remember that he’s injured because of you. “My poor, sweet honey.”

Steve closes his eyes and hums with content. “I love it when you call me honey.” He rolls onto his side now and nuzzles his bloodied face into your stomach. “Makes me feel special.”

Your fingers find his hair, careful to avoid any bumps and heart swelling at what he’s said. Clearing your throat, you look to Robin who is on your other side. You start checking her over as well. She isn’t as battered as Steve is, though a bruise is forming on her cheek. 

When she sees you looking at her, she winks. “I lived!”

“You did,” you squeeze her hand and her head falls against your shoulder. She lets out her own content sigh, and you play with her hair as well. They’re still with you. Still whole and alive.

With Steve and Robin safely wrapped around you, you can finally rest.

-

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[vivwritesfics]

hiii!!! if you can can you please make a fanfic like (sorry for my bad explaining) basically a fluff fic with oscar piastri and y/n where they meet at like the streets of paris or something romantic like that? (you can give it any ending you want lols)

one of my best friends is from paris and we talk about how it's not the romantic place we all fantasize it to be. but i got you boo

Paris, France:

The hotel was awful, just awful. But that was what she got she got for booking her holiday on a budget.

The bed must have had bedbugs. She saw one review online (after she had checked in) that suggested it. And, ever since, she could feel the little fuckers crawling all over her skin.

If the bathroom wasn't down the hall, she would have been throwing up from anxiety. But, instead, she shut her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

And then her neighbours started shagging. Like, bed hitting the wall behind her kind of shagging. Holy shit, she needed to get out of here.

Grabbing her jacket and placing her valuables into her pockets, she headed out of the hotel.

The streets of Paris were a little bit terrifying in the dark. If one of her friends had just done with her, they could have gotten a nicer hotel and she wouldn't have been terrified to walk the streets in the dark. She shouldn't have been out there, she knew, but it was either have a panic attack on the disgusting floor of the hotel room or get out for some fresh air.

It was like there were eyes on her all the time she was walking. She pulled her jacket closer to her body and walked a little faster. Her eyes were trained on the floor as she pretty much marched down the streets of Paris.

Her body collided with somebody else. "Shit," she cried as this persons arms wrapped around her, stopping her from falling.

"Are you okay?" He asked, voice not accompanied by a French accent. "Sorry, I should have been looking at where I was going." He shook his head, floppy, Prince-Charming-from-Shrek hair falling in front of his face.

"It's okay," she said, tightening her grip on the things in her pocket.

He released her. "I'm Oscar," he said, holding out his hand.

She didn't take it, but she did smile at him. "Nice to meet you, Oscar," she replied, not giving her own name.

It was almost like a game, on the streets of Paris. Oscar twisted his wrist and looked at his watch. "Where are you headed? Do you need me to walk you there?"

The red flag in the back of her head was taking a long ass time to raise. "I'm good," she said, because he was still a stranger on the streets of Paris. She began to walk past him. "It really was nice to meet you, Oscar," she said and began walking again.

Santorini, Greece:

The view from her balcony was so fucking pretty. The glittering ocean, the pale sand, the gorgeous architecture. It was a far cry from Paris.

Even on a budget she'd managed somewhere nice. A lot nicer than that hotel room in Paris. Here she felt safe. She left her valuable things in her hotel room (in the safe) and went out to dinner.

It was so damn peaceful. This was the getaway she needed, not those few nights in Paris. This was fucking bliss.

But then he showed up. She was in a little beach front restaurant, having a drink when he came walking past. What did he say his name was? Oscar? What the hell was he doing in Greece?

Her initial reaction was to think he had been followed. But the way he was looking at her, all confused before that look of familiarity crossed his face, it was all so genuine.

"Are you following me?" He asked it in such a teasing way, she immediately knew he wasn't serious.

She kicked out the chair in front of her. "Come have a drink with me, Oscar."

He obeyed and sat himself in the seat opposite her. Almost immediately a waiter came over to take his drink order. As soon as the waiter was gone, she was staring at him. "So, tell me about yourself, Oscar."

"Aren't you gonna tell me your name?" He asked as she sipped her drink.

She thought about it for a moment. "Tell you what, tell me about yourself, and I'll tell you my name."

He held out his hand, and this time she took it. "Deal."

Italy:

Italy had never been on her list of destinations. She didn't understand why not, because it was gorgeous.

But seeing the sights was such a small part of it. She walked behind Oscar, Oscar Piastri the Formula One driver, as he led her through the paddock.

"This can't be real," she said for the fourteenth time since they'd climbed out of the car.

Oscar laughed at her. "It's real," he assured her as he took her to the McLaren garage. He stopped for a second and gave her a minute to step closer and take his hand.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were a race car driver," she said as she squeezed his hand. It wasn't a comforting squeeze, but it had Oscar laughing, again.

"I did," he insisted.

"Yeah, after we'd had four cocktails!"

He led her through the garage, to his drivers room. "Okay, okay. How can I make it up to you?"

He shut the door behind him and she stepped closer. "Hmm," she said and pushed his hair out of his face. "Take me back to Paris?"

"Paris?"

She hummed.

"Okay," he answered, still holding her hand. "I'll take you back to Paris."

[minhosbxtch]

Snap (pt. 2)

Eris x reader

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, suggestiveness but no smut... yet ;)

2 weeks.

It'd been 2 fucking weeks since you'd seen your mate.

2 weeks too long.

You would've thought he'd forgotten about you if he hadn't sent tugs on the bond ever so often, to which you returned with 2 tugs of your own.

The first time you had thought you were having a heart attack because it was so strong you had to sit down. And good thing you did. As soon as you did wave after wave of emotion came down the bond. Anger, regret, self-disgust, and the most surprising, anxiety.

In response you sent waves of calm and appreciation back. Responses that you had needed before and Eris had given you.

These days you were just filled with excitement and longing despite how much you wanted to admit it.

Just like you had helped him, he did the same for you.

One night your thoughts had gotten particularly bad and had you almost reaching for your candle once again before an urgent tug stopped you.

This time, it wasn't necessarily emotions he sent to you, but nostalgic comforting memories. A hug, being bundled in blankets, laying out in the sun, wave after wave until you fell asleep.

You had asked Rhys to give you extra work to get your mind off and he obliged thankfully, but that didn't stop your mind from drifting off.

Your work had led Eris to get panicked before and tug in the middle of a job to which you had dropped everything to respond, letting the man get away.

You also spent your free time in the library, trying to figure out how to close your side of the tether on command so poor Eris wouldn't have to feel your emotions 24/7.

Today, you returned to Velaris after being away for the past 2 days hunting a former Illyrian commander and his men who defected and tried rebel against the High Lord.

It was exhausting work but it kept your mind busy.

Arriving home too late for dinner, you went to your room, showered, and changed before collapsing in your bed and letting sleep drag you under accompanied by waves of calm.

You woke up to dim sunlight shining through the gaps in your curtains. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes and sat up.

Swinging your legs over the bed you grabbed a pair of pants that you tugged on under your sleep shirt.

Not bothering to look in the mirror, you trudged downstairs to get breakfast only to see the Inner Circle having dinner.

Feyre looked up at you and smiled, gesturing to your empty seat, already prepped with a plate.

Giving her a grateful smile you sat down and began loading your plate.

"I think that's the most I seen you ever sleep," Cassian remarked turning to you.

"I don't know why but I think that's the best I've ever slept in my life," you said, voice hoarse.

At Feyre's knowing glance you suddenly became very focused with your food.

Only her and Rhysand knew Eris was your mate due to the simple fact that everyone hated him. You wouldn't be able to stand their sympathetic glances and their shit talking about a male you were destined to spend your life with and who was the only one that helped you.

Rhys gave you a small smile before clearing his throat and saying, "As common courtesy, we will attend the celebration of the Autumn Equinox and the start of Eris' reign next week."

Mor and Cassian groaned while Az, Nesta, and Elain simply frowned. Amren would probably not attend. Other Courts found her creepy.

Rhysand ignored their unenthusiastic response and continued, "It will take place in 6 days time at the Forest House. I expect everyone to attend and look presentable. They are our allies and we will treat them as such," he said with a strict tone.

You didn't say anything, didn't react, just stared at your food.

The idea of seeing your mate was nice, but actually facing him and the whole prospect was a lot more daunting. Especially with the rest of the Inner Circle.

The rest of the dinner passed without any other events. The silence was mostly filled with Mor trying to decide on what dresses would look best on everyone and Cassian joining in, joking to try to lighten the mood how he should wear a dress as well.

Feyre and Rhysand were clearly communicating telepathically for a couple minutes before you felt a light tap on your mental walls.

You already knew what this would be about but Feyre's soft voice saying, You don't have to come if you don't want to, confirmed your suspicions.

Yes I do. If I don't show up that'll just make it all worse, you shot back.

Rhysand didn't comment, but you could feel his relief and agreement. He wouldn't have forced you to do it but he would've definitely pushed you.

Feyre on the other hand would've gladly gone to war against the Autumn Court if it meant that you would not have to do something you were uncomfortable with.

And you adored her for that.

You knew she would argue with you but respected your decision so she just sighed and left your mind.

Rhysand did as well but his sounded more like a sigh of relief.

6 days later, Mor was pulling on the strings on the back of your dress tighter than you had thought possible.

"If you tie this dress any tighter than I won't be able to eat," you complained between her tugs. That was one of the only reasons you ever went to these things. The food was immaculate.

Rolling her eyes she sighed and said, "Well when you're in dresses you aren't meant to. And besides, you look like a goddess."

At her words, you had a small flashback to when Eris called you the same thing.

He was going to be there. But, he couldn't show you any affection, you knew since there would be an audience.

Honestly, you would kill him yourself if you had the opportunity. Somehow, his very existence pissed you off.

"Ta-da!" Mor exclaimed, turning you around to see the mirror.

Your hair was elegantly styled similar to Nesta's braid crown but had pieces that resembled horns over your temple in a way that made your face look regal and imposing. Mor had also weaved small strings of silver around the horns and throughout the remaining hair, giving a aura of silver glow around you.

Your eyes were accentuated by silver eyeshadow and sliver brushed along your cheekbones, making them look a whole lot sharper that they really are. Silver jewelry adorned your ears and neck.

Your dress was black had a flowy skirt that started right at your waist and a slit that went up to mid thigh but if you wanted to, you could clasp the small, nearly invisible hooks to hide it. The bodice looked like it was painted on, with black vines climbing from your waist up to your collarbone, forming a sweetheart neckline. They flowed down your arms. Under them, there was a sheer fabric that gave the illusion that they were really part of your skin. Small crystals were dotted all along the skirt, giving the appearance of stars.

Mor squealed and grabbed your arm.

Before she could speak a knock sounded at your door and Cassian's voice said, "Rhys said you both look fine and need to hurry up and get out here."

Both of you turned to glare at the door as you heard the footsteps retreat.

Mor bent down and picked a pair of relatively simple silver heels and shoved them into your hands before giving you a thumbs up and rushing through the doorway, probably to down a few drinks before the party.

Now that you thought about it, that wasn't to bad of an idea.

Slipping the shoes on you went after her and caught her in the kitchen, drinking straight out of the bottle.

Voices were approaching from down the hallway and Mor motioned for you to keep quiet and you mouthed to her, Sure but save me some. She grinned and nodded before shoving the half full wine bottle in the cabinet.

Rhysand led the group with Feyre on his arm. They looked devastatingly beautiful with their matching black attire.

He gave you a nod of acknowledgement and turned to the rest who were trickling in through the halls.

Rhys clapped his hands loudly, getting everyone's attention before he spoke. "Don't get too drunk, don't start a war, don't mess anything up,'' he said as he glared at Cassian.

Cassian gave him a lopsided grin and shrugged while saying, "I have not a single inkling of thought of why you'd be looking at me."

"That's because you've never had an inkling of thought in the first place," you muttered.

He turned to you with an offended look as Nesta beside him snorted with agreement.

Rhysand just rolled his eyes and ushered everyone together, acting like the mother hen he was.

You ended up between Mor and Feyre, who gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled warmly before turning to Elain and saying, "You'll take care of Nyx right?"

She nodded but she wasn't looking at Feyre. No, she was staring straight at Azriel.

You rolled your eyes and turned away. You weren't jealous, no not anymore, but it just pissed you off.

Feyre clearly mistook your frustration as impatience and gave you a teasing smile before the world fell beneath you.

The outside of the Forest House appeared gradually. Blinking at the change in lighting, your mouth fell open at the sight. There was autumn in the Night Court but it was nothing compared to this.

It seemed like each leaf was a different color. Every shade of red, orange, and yellow were on the trees. The castle itself was also gorgeous and was made of grey stone and wood, with large trees arching over entryways. Adjacent to the building was a stream that led around the castle. Fallen leaves from the trees flowed slowly along the current. The scent of earth and growth was in the air.

You felt like you and the Inner Circle was incredibly out of placed dressed in black and silver among the warm golden colors.

It was almost funny how this land could be so beautiful and the people so cold.

Several guards lined the stone pathway into the castle, their faces blank staring straight ahead as if they were merely created by the stone that surrounds them.

Everyone took their designated "places" among themselves. Rhys and Feyre obviously led the group, with Mor and Nesta directly behind them. You were in the last row between Cassian and Azriel who were dressed in their "formal" leathers.

They both obviously had to leave most of their larger weapons at home but had several knives hidden, as did the rest of the Inner Circle.

You had two in your hair and another two hidden beneath your bodice along with one along your thigh and another on the bottom of your heel.

Your role here was the same as Azriel's and Cassian's, to protect the High Lord and Lady.

As if they needed protection.

That was what you were told but you knew that it was also for Eris to know that they held you and if he wanted to try anything, he couldn't, not without risking you.

As you approached the entryway, you entered a small garden that had an assortment of bright flowers and flowy trees.

Another arched doorway led you inside where you were met with yet another doorway that led to stairs which led upwards to the ballroom.

The ballroom was somehow more gorgeous than you could have imagined. The walls were a light orange and had intricate golden details. The floor was a white stone the seemed to shimmer when you stepped on it. Tendrils of ivy and other assorted plants curled over the walls and the tables and tables of food.

Food.

You sighed in discomfort as you knew you couldn't make a beeline to the food as you still had a job to do, despite how pointless it was.

Straight ahead from the doorway you came in, was a golden throne that seemed to be carved out of a large tree. Each one of the branches was bigger than Cassian's torso and reached across the ceiling of the ballroom. Occasionally leaves would fall down but before they could reach the floor they dissolved.

Apparently that rule only worked if it was the floor as many of the guests had leaves either on their outfits or in their hair.

The branches curved around the centerpiece of lighting which seemed like a big ball of fire. Tendrils of in dangled down, occasionally sparks flying off before disappearing before reaching the guests.

It appeared that your Court was not the only one that showed up. No, you were just last.

Of course Rhysand had to have his dramatic late entrance.

Before Rhys could dismiss you Eris walked in and sat down with an older Fae women who stood solemnly next to the throne.

The ballroom went quiet at his entrance as did any doubtful thoughts of yours.

He looked ethereal wearing a long sleeve red tunic with a high collar and gold detailing and a dark brown coat with tan fur around the top. Gold earrings dangled from his pointed ears and a golden laurel wreath sat upon his head. There was a faint but definitive glow around him that radiated power.

His hair was a bit longer than when you had last seen him, it was almost like each time you saw him he got hotter.

You remembered what he had said last time and your cheeks burned.

"Your hair looked better long."

To be honest his hair didn't matter. He looked beautiful either way, but the short hair gave him a cold, sharp, godly look.

He chuckled before saying, "If you liked it better then I'll grow it back out for you. But not as messy as that brute."

He arched an eyebrow as everything at the silence and waved a hand, simply saying, "Continue."

At once the music started playing again and people resumed to dance as well as chatter started.

A light brush against your arm caused you to jerk out of your trance and look around to see Feyre smiling at you. She leaned in closer and whispered, "You're drooling it's a tad bit obvious."

"I am not," you bit back, embarrassed.

She only gave you a knowing look and walked back to Rhysand's side to dance.

Only then did you notice Mor, Azriel, and Cassian glaring daggers at the new High Lord.

Currently, you stood to the side, nursing a drink while watching your High Lord and Lady dance.

Since they had dismissed you, Cassian and Nesta were also dancing, perhaps less gracefully but happy nonetheless.

Mor was somewhere else on her fourth cup of wine and Azriel was standing in the corner, brooding.

You looked up at the dais which held the throne and saw Eris sitting alone staring into space with a glass in his hand.

At your spot next to the tables, the Fae lady that stood up there earlier stood next to you and stared at the dancers as you were doing.

"Can I be of assistance, my lady?" You asked, not unkindly.

"I would only like to know my son's mate," she said simply.

At her words, your gaze snapped to her in disbelief, "Your son?"

She turned at met your gaze slowly and said with a gentle smile, "Yes my son, the High Lord and your mate."

You quickly grabbed your skirts and attempted a curtsy before she waved you off.

Over her shoulder you could see Eris' piercing gaze focus on you and his mother.

"I would love if you could join me and my son for dinner sometime," she proposed gently.

You blinked in astonishment before saying, "I would love to if my Lord and Lady will allow it."

She grinned, "I'll talk to them during the feast," she said giving your shoulder a light touch and walked away, almost floating.

Immediately Mor came up and stared with you and asked, "What did she want?"

Feeling slightly defensive, you said, "Oh she was just talking to me about strengthening the relationship between courts."

Technically no lying done.

"Huh, I figured she would've talked about that to Feyre and Rhysand or me," she said giving you a suspicious glance.

''Yeah I think she didn't want to disturb them," you said, gesturing to the High Lord and Lady dancing joyfully.

"Yes but I could tell them just as well as you can."

Clenching your teeth you just said, "I don't know why she just approached me."

You walked away to the food tables. You knew Mor didn't entirely mean what she said, she was partially intoxicated so granted somethings would slip out. But if she knew the Lady came over to talk to you about her son, your mate, she would flip.

And to be honest you didn't have that kind of patience tonight.

The next hour or so was spent exchanging pleasantries with people from other courts. The only High Lord you had talked to directly was Helion who had unfortunately left soon after.

After suffering for an hour, a stuffy important man announced it was time for dinner.

Several servants ushered the guests into the dining hall where table among table was placed in a line. The dining room was decorated similar to the ballroom and there was yet another large tree that housed another throne that was at the end of the large table.

The table was made of a giant slab of wood and all the chairs were made of a darker wood with deep red cushions. In the center of the table was assortments of yellow, red, and orange flowers in sage green vases.

In front of each chair was a placemat with a large green plate and a smaller one adjacent to it. There was also three different glasses along with a teacup and four forks, two spoons, and three knives.

On top of the big plate sat a creme napkin with a ruby napkin holder and a orange card with the persons name on it.

You walked past what seemed an infinite amount of seats, scanning the names as you walked past.

Keefe, Kaz, Jacks, Regulus, Five, Minho, Klaus, Stu, Rafe, Maven.

Five? What type of name is Five?

Eventually you found your seat. It was just two chairs away from the end.

On your right was the Lady of Autumn and your right was Azriel who was seated next to a farmer from the Autumn Court who talked his ear off about his fields.

Luckily, you were across from Feyre who would ever so often give you a reassuring nudge with her foot.

After everyone had been seated, servants brought out the food. Your mouth watered at the sight. Several glazed hams, chicken, and plenty of turkey were spread out. There were smaller dishes of sweet potatoes, corn, and brussels sprouts. There was also several casseroles that you couldn't name.

There was also bread. So much of it. Garlic bread, cheesy bread, sourdough, monkey bread, toasted bread, and so many more that had unknown toppings.

Several unnamed fish were also passed around along with sauces to dip meats in. There was one particular dish that looked interesting. It had small noodles in it with a bright yellow sauce.

You could see Eris in the corner of your eye as you hesitantly eyed the dish. Turning your head he nodded to it and gave you a small smile before mouthing, 'Try it. It's good.'

Deciding to trust him for once you got a small scoop and added it to the quickly growing pile of food on your plate.

Why isn't anyone eating? Mother I'm starving.

Then you realized what everyone was waiting on- for Eris to eat the first bite.

You gave him a nasty glare to which he gave you a questioning look.

Mouthing back, you said, 'Hurry up and take a bite so I can eat.'

Eris raised his eyebrows and smirked, saying, 'You're my mate and therefore will be equal to me. You may eat whatever, and whenever you'd like.'

Without your permission, his words kicked up a storm of butterflies. Your glare faltered before returning as you gave him an obscene gesture to which he laughed before winking and taking an annoyingly slow bite of ham.

As soon has he swallowed, the clinking of forks sounded and servants brought a cart of drinks into the room.

Thank the Mother.

Instantly you dove in. After about 30 seconds of eating, you felt a gentle nudge on you shin. Looking up your High Lady gave you a glance to which you straightened your posture, adjusted the napkin on your lap and starting eating in much smaller portions.

A quiet chuckle sounded from the obnoxious male to which you gave your best glare. Eris gestured with his fork to the yellow substance you still haven't touched.

Rolling your eyes, you speared a couple noodles with your fork and brought them up to your mouth to taste.

Holy shit.

Your eyes must have betrayed your surprise and delight at whatever this holy concoction this was. It was cheesy but with the perfect balance of creamy and smooth.

You quickly devoured what little was left and cursed yourself for how little you took. Scanning the table told you that just as you had expected, there was none left.

A hand reached over your shoulder which jarred you from your loathing of the people around you that took the rest of whatever food that was.

It was a servant. You gave them a smile that they ignored as they didn't look anywhere else besides your glass and the floor.

One glass they filled with water, another with red wine, and another with white white. The teacup was left unfilled.

After half an hour, the servants went around to collect the empty serving dishes and plates and to refill and empty glasses.

A couple minutes later they brought out desserts. There were cakes of all kinds, brownies, fruits, puddings, pastries, pies, and crazy confections.

That was it, you had definitely died and gone to whatever life existed beyond this one.

After dessert, most of the guests started, but Rhysand and Feyre were talking to the Lady of Autumn.

Well it was mostly Feyre and the Lady talking. Rhys was just standing there, a dangerous look in his eyes.

He just looked pissed.

Suddenly he nodded once and walked over where the Inner Circle was standing.

You started towards them as you were sitting on one of the couches in the corner of the room, next to the window.

But as you stood up, a hand grabbed your wrist and spun you around.

"Hello Eris."

"Hello love."

"Can I help you?"

"Your very presence does just that."

"Well my presence will be exiting shortly," you said, turning around.

"Wait,'' you stopped, "I also just wanted to give you this."

Sighing, you turned back around to see Eris holding out a dish covered in a lid.

"What is is? Are you trying to poison me?" You said, arching a brow.

"It's called macaroni and cheese," he said unveiling the food that you had been so entranced in earlier. He cleared his throat, "I saw how much you had enjoyed it earlier."

Smiling softly, you took the food and said, "Thank you."

He let out a breath and put on his usual smirk and took your free hand and kissed it before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "See you tomorrow princess. Oh, and wear something colorful for once," before walking away.

As soon as he left, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Rhysand. No wonder he left.

If he saw Eris' and yours encounter, he didn't speak of it, only choosing to say, "Come on we're leaving."

The next day, you sat in Rhysand's office, smoothing down your skirts of your light green dress. It was rather simple, more of a long sundress style.

Rhys had eyed the odd choice of wardrobe but hadn't said anything about it.

Clearing his throat he said, "We will pick you up a couple hours after dinner, if you would like the leave earlier, that just try to reach out to me of Feyre. Both of us will be on the lookout for anything."

Nodding you stood up to leave, barely able to contain your nerves and excitement.

"Oh," Rhysand started again, "don't forget where your loyalties lie."

Rage and annoyance flared up and you opened your mouth to respond but the door opened, revealing a smiling Feyre.

You turned to her and put on a nice smile.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

Ready to get away from your mate yes.

"Yep," you said, matching her cheerful energy.

She motioned you to follow her out of the office. Once you got out of her mate's earshot she looked at you seriously and said, "He probably told you to remember what we did for you but here, listen to me. Eris is your mate in your life. Preferably don't just abandon us, but I won't tell you not to pursue him. Also, don't listen to us. Find what you want to do more. I won't try to stop you."

There were no words to express your overwhelming gratitude to her so you just hugged her.

As you pulled away she said, "Green really suits you," taking your hand.

Before you could thank her you were falling.

The Forest House was just as beautiful as you remembered it. Except this time, there were only two guards stationed. Instead of a servant greeting you, Eris was standing there, hands clasped.

He was wearing a simple red tunic with a long coat with fur around the hood. There was a simple brown scabbard attached to his belt. The sword inside looked simple for a Fae sword. It had a plain gold pommel and cross guard and had a worn leather grip.

Gold rings adorned his fingers as well as a couple gold earrings complimented the laurel crown.

Him and Feyre nodded at each other once before he turned to you and pointed to his mother and said, "You can follow her and she'll show you to the table."

Swallowing, you nodded and went to the Lady of Autumn.

As you turned around you could see Eris and Feyre talking.

Completely civil.

Calm.

"Hey Y/N, just let me know if you need me to bring anything,'' Feyre called back.

"Don't worry it'd definitely be you that I'd call," you yelled back with a smile.

Her laughter echoed before she vanished back into the Night Court.

This time you didn't go to the large dining hall that you'd been in last night.

As you walked Eris leaned down to say, "The hall you were in last night, we only use for large events."

Your head snapped to him and you narrowed your eyes, "Stop leaning down."

"Terribly sorry, let me just get on your level," he said crouching down so that he was shorter than you. "Is that better, your Highness?"

You raised an eyebrow before pushing his head down further so that you could rest an elbow on his flawlessly styled hair, mussing it up. "Ah, now it is much better pheasant," you said in a snooty accent.

"My apologies your Grace."

"Hmph, completely unacceptable."

"You know, you aren't High Lady yet, love."

Immediately the playful vibe vanished and a heavy silence settled. Looking ahead, you saw that the Lady of Autumn had vanished.

Eris cleared his throat and pushed open the set of double doors, "Here we are."

The room was spacious and was decorated in shades of light green and orange. The back wall was completely open and led to a patio overlooking a garden. Spread throughout the room were couches and paintings, as well as an easel. A large marble fireplace took up most of the right wall.

Eris led you to the table and chairs on the patio and pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit down.

He sat down across from you, leaving the chair next to you open. Almost immediately, two servants started to bring out food. These dishes weren't nearly as fancy as the previous ones, but there was more that enough food.

Most importantly, macaroni and cheese.

Two bottles of wine were set out along with a water pitcher and a teapot.

With less than a minute after, your plate was completely piled up with various foods and you waited impatiently for Eris to finish getting his food.

He noticed you weren't eating, but looking at him expectantly and chuckled before saying, "Sweetheart you don't have to worry about me. As I said you can eat whenever you'd like."

Instead of giving a response you dug in.

Mother, if I died right now I'd be happy.

The food was just as good as you remembered it.

Soon enough the Lady of Autumn came back and sat down and started eating as well.

Easy and light conversation flowed between the three of you, onnly pausing once dessert came out. After your meal all three of you fell into silence as you all watched the sun set over the garden, giving the appearance that the trees were on fire.

Strangely enough, you weren't cold at all. But, that may be due to the steady heat that came off of Eris.

Too soon, you felt the familiar tap on the outer walls of your mind. Feyre.

Hey Y/N, I'll be there in a few minutes to come pick you up.

She must've sensed your hesitation because after the first message she followed up softly, with, 'If you want to stay a bit longer than let me know. I can cover for you if you need.'

Slowly, you stood up and said stiffly, "Feyre said she will be here in a few minutes to come get me."

Eris also stood up and offered you his arm, saying, "I'll escort you the the front."

You and the Lady exchanged your goodbyes and you let Eris direct you through the winding hallways.

As you reached the front, you could see Feyre waiting at the end of the walkway.

Before you could leave, Eris grasped you by the wrist and pulled you in for a kiss. It lasted for only a few seconds before he pulled away. Holding on to his coat lapels, you yanked him back down for your lips to meet again. This time much longer and filled with much more enthusiasm.

When you finally pulled away, you both were panting.

"Stay. Stay with me," Eris pleaded, staring into your eyes.

Pressing your lips together you thought about what Feyre said. "Okay," you said slowly, "Just let me run and tell Feyre."

Before waiting for his response, you ran out and met Feyre. She gave you a slight alarmed look due to the fact you were flushed and panting.

Grasping her hands, "You said you could cover for me, right?" You blurted out quickly.

She beamed back at you. "Yes, I'll just tell them that I sent you on a job or you're staying at an old friend's house."

"Thank you so much, Fey. If there's anyth-"

"Shh. Now go. You're mate is waiting," she teased before vanishing.

Turning around, you met Eris' eyes and nodded. Walking back up to him you yanked him down again.

He was smiling against your lips and he tapped the back of your thighs. Getting his message, you jumped. He threaded your legs around his waist and started walking back to the house.

Oh Mother. It was gonna be a long night.

@minaethrym, @glitterypirateduck, @lady-targaryens-world, @annieeees, @mybestfriendmademe, @inloveallthetime, @b0xerdancer, @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris, @acphengene

[luvlyhyunjin]

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

fourteen - Why didn't you take me? warning: detailed description of anxiety, mentions of death, angst, and smut.

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(a/n: special thanks to @stargirl-gigi for giving me strength when i lacked it. i know you're not the biggest fan of enhypen but i still hope you'll like this cus if it weren't for you my brain wouldn't have been able to form this many words <3)

Jake learns that the world is unjust early on in his life. Even supposing for the preponderance of his few first moons he’s adjudged lucky not to be on the receiving end. Nevertheless, he finds himself appertained to an all-familiar watching crowd. With impertinent eyes and forged pity, they’ll watch as lives fall apart in front of them. They’ll never help but prate about how bad they feel.

Jake wasn’t on the receiving end for a long time, but he recalls being a perpetrator.

He is seven years old. It was a warm summer afternoon; he was running around with fellow students in the classroom. Despite being apprised a little more over four times to not do that. Jake was born obdurate; it wasn’t something that came with time. Conceivably it might have grown, became something that is unwillingly part of his skin. Nonetheless it was always there, and it is still the reason his hip ends up colliding with the teacher’s table, knocking over her vase of flowers and he watches with wide eyes as it tumbles to the ground and shatters into diminutive bits.

When his favorite teacher with disenchantment imprinted on her features asked who did it. His heart trembled with the trepidation of getting reprimand and so he ends up blaming someone else. throwing the guilt of his wrongdoings upon someone else’s shoulders to carry. He watches as his superiority sides with his luck. Being the most liked kid in his class aids his lie and every student lies with him, for him.

Jake ruminates on the situation a lot more than he would like. It comes to him on random days of his life, and it comes to him when his supply of luck runs out. The day he ends up on the receiving margin of life. He’s on his knees. Agony sneaks its way onto every atom of his being and before he could even breathe – it draped itself over him.

More often than not Jake feels like he had lived four lives, yet he bides not even past his mid-twenties. His first ends with him starry eyed, floating in a pipe dream. That despite his insidious mind he could still make it work in Paranoia. It only lasts for fleeting moments before it all crumbles. Anxiety is a searing ache, it’s in perpetuity coursing through his veins. No matter how hard Jake locks the door, with indomitable force it breaks it down, it travels through the window until he’s tied together by threads of unpreventable dread.

His second life passes by in a colorful daze, an emptiness in his chest that’s scarcely filled with pills on his tongue and poison in his blood. It’s all blurry fragments of him on stage, staying in the studio until every bone in his body ached and him trying to find meaning in pages of his lyrics.

With his third life he’s watching his mother’s dead body being lowered into her grave. His heart is now nothing, but a gaping scar and it pulsates with agonizing affliction every time he breathes. The flashes of cameras feel like knives being stabbed repeatedly into his body. In a fugitive breath he recalls that day when he was seven years old, and he ponders on if this was his punishment.

Why didn’t you take me?

In another world, one where life is impartial, his mother lives and Jake dies, with no blood on his hands.

By his fourth try he no longer feels human. Rather a floating revenant watching down upon the creature who’s etched with misery and a colossal amount of anxiety. He’s constantly overtaken by calamitous emotions. There’s no time for his wounds to mend when he’s so busy trying to control his thoughts, to keep them at bay. Placate them with rehearsed fortitude just so he could have room to exhale. However, his questions remain. They plague his mind; it beleaguers him and then at night it all interposes into questions he can’t seem to find a remedy to.

Why didn’t you take me?

What’s the point of anything?

“Jake?” He hears you calling him, disquiet lacing your voice. He blinks, his eyes that have been zeroed in on a random spot in the mirror finally move, landing on yours instead.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, do you mind repeating that once again?” he sighs, rubbing his temples warily. Missing the way, yours linger on his face with worry etched on them.

“Okay.”  He’s met with a few moments of silence as you scroll up through your ipad “The Vogue team reached out again and they’re hoping to redo the interview you never got to finish a while ago,” your eyes flick to his for mere seconds, ephemeral although more than enough to skim across his features, perusing his scrunched brows “do you want that?”

“If they’re actually gonna show up on time then sure.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure to tell them that.”

“You want me to tell Vogue they better show up on time?”

“Yes bunny,” despite his raised brow and the look in his eyes that straight up calls you stupid. You grow somewhat relieved that bits of his usual self are back on the surface.

A pout draws on your lips as you type away on the screen of your ipad and his eyes fleet to them a tad too long to be deemed appropriate. He is apt to be swayed by deviant desires, yours seem to feed his ardour.

“Can I get you anything?” You speak suddenly and it takes him back to his reality, gaze shifting away and you, too busy to notice.

“An energy drink would be nice.”

“What kind?”

“Whatever is available.” With a nod sent in his direction you leave with a brush of your hand on his shoulder blade. It’s delicately discreet. In the same way your lashes flutter whenever he looks at you and the warmth of your palm doesn’t stay long but it has him trifling.

Not inordinately scalding but rather a soothing touch that eases the thorns picking at his heart.

With a sigh he leans back in his seat and checks his phone. The tightness pulling at his ribs comes back, intensifies by his messages to Soojin being left unanswered. And it all makes itself discernible once he starts bouncing his leg on the floor. His demons swarm by his feet and inchmeal, they creep upwards, almost as if they’re melting onto his flesh.

“Is Soojin still coming?” he asks Jay – who is sitting on the couch not too far away - with concealed fret. The latter looks up from his stack of papers, glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose.

“As far as I know yes. Why?”

“She’s not answering my texts, so I was wondering.” regardless of his inefficacious attempts to remain composed Jay has spent what feels like a lifetime by his side, every moment was more than enough for him to commit every mannerism of Jake into his memory. Seeing through his façade is a practice he mastered.

“I’m sure she’s okay man. She probably has it on do not disturb or something.”

“Yeah,” Jake replies absentminded. A fraught silence settles and despite Jay’s words that portray themselves as a touch of gentleness on his being. His striving to calm down the storms that are threatening to take over him.

It starts off palliate with slight tugging at his chest, puncture just to be annoying. The logical wheels in his mind turn, giving meaning to Jay’s words to him and finding solace in between the letters. He busies himself with turning all of Sunoo’s makeup products with the label upfront. It earns him a slap on his hand and a glare.

“Can you fuck off Jake? I have other clients to work on.” Sunoo spits and he only huffs in response, sinking in his seat and checking his phone once again.

No Notifications. He never hated anything more than those two words. The tugging grows relentless and before he gets to think he’s already picking at the skin around his nails.

Jake’s anxiety is too fickle of a creature to ever just leave him in seclusion for far too long.

It already seeped into him and clung itself on his bones. It is more than just a part of him but rather who he is. Like A winding coil that finally snaps. his head is bombarded with frightful images and every bad thing that could have happened to Soojin flashes in a moment. His heart skips three beats at once and panic travels through his veins.

The logical wheels come to a halt so abruptly.

What if something really bad happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if she got into an accident on her way here to see him? It’s his fault, isn’t it?

“Are you okay Jake?” His head swivels towards Jay who somehow has made it to his side without making much noise or getting his attention.

“Yeah um- “he clears his throat “do you think you could call Soojin? See where she is?” The worry that starts filling Jay’s eyes is what he was hoping to avoid seeing. He knows it’s nowhere close to pity, knows no matter how much blood his heart spills, Jay will never look at him with ruth.

And yet Jake has grown an immense hatred for every possible way that people look at him, somewhere between sleepless nights, how vacant his chest remains and his constant reminder to breathe- he yearns for normality and if it’s something he isn’t meant for, his unyielding covet to be invisible overtakes his will to live.

“Of course.” Jay like always doesn’t question him, a tender smile settles on his face “I’m sure she’s okay, alright?” he assures, and Jake could only nod mutely in response, his throat is tightening and an all too familiar knot is forming.

With Jay walking away from to make a call, you’re back. His promised drink between your hands.

“Here.” You place it in front of him and when Jake doesn’t even look at it, his peculiar silence is enough for you to take notice of the shift in the air. Your words hanging heavy, and Jake’s agitation is avidly pellucid, as crystal as running water.

Your eyes shift when Jay walks back to you two, with downcast eyes.

“She’s not picking up. Should I call her manager?”

“I guess?” Although Jake’s voice is unmodulated edged with an imperturbable expression, your eyes remain on the way he keeps picking at his skin. With a mute nod Jay leaves you two alone once again

He glances at you when your fingers wrap around his wrist to halt his movement, with imbedded delicacy. Even your touch plea rather than order and if Jake’s mind wasn’t already clouded with webs of consternation. He would notice it.

“Is this about Soojin?” You purse your lips right after the question slips from your mouth, as if you didn’t mean to ask and really if Jake wasn’t so busy worrying about the wellbeing of his friend right now, he’d be snorting at you.

Alternatively, his state remains stoic.

“Yeah.”

“You seem to care about her a lot.”

“Because she’s my friend?” He side-eyes you, sharp enough to again call out the lack of your intelligence with a glance and it renders you mute. Walking away from him just in time for him to roll his eyes, checking his phone for the third time.

Your absence doesn’t last long, in fact it doesn’t last long enough for him to click his phone shut before you’re shoving a stack of papers in his face with a minacious lustre in the flickers of color in your eyes.

“Can you help me count these folded pages?” you smile at him, imbued with inimitable docile that only seem to find home in you, and in between his sheets.

He prances between you and the papers in almost suspicion yet stays quiet and despite the way he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you he still takes them from you, only because it is welcome enough of a hindrance to combat against his fatalistic mind.

“Sure.”

As a tranquil silence descends upon the two of you. It takes mere moments for comprehension to swim its way to his head, amidst the crashing waves of overbearing disquietude, he finds your kindness. Like a shore he finally gets to rest on after swimming for so long, he’s choking on the water clogging his throat pipe, yet you manage to exist as a stroke of color amongst his grays.

He remembers it so well. Seeing you this morning counting these same papers.

Were you trying to distract him?

He pauses, and you catch his eyes promptly. You don’t make him wait and his brain fizzles out for a second, a silence he doesn’t get to linger in enough to appreciate, as his eyes rake over your features, your eyes manage to exist in screaming color while the rest withers away, uncompromising. And then ever so slightly, the corners of your lips turn upwards in a smile that isn’t inundated with sympathy for him. Instead, you’re everything that you ever are, sugary sweet and nothing like his forget me nots. You’re akin to cherry blossoms that sprout throughout spring.

So scintillating, too exorbitant he’s obligated to tear his gaze away from you.

Jake had long discarded his deficient organ - so called heart. It is nothing more than meritless and it died the day his mother left this world. It only ever subsists to awaken him once it slips his mind that he is alive, he is present if not that, it’s here to remind him he is made of his anxiety.

Right now, an interval of many years that feels closer to decades than anything, his heart skips a beat, not out of trepidation.

However, it being so unwonted does not give it any more sprinkle of an eminence, it persists in being counterfeit. It disintegrates the moment your own heart picks up speed, the moment a blush starts to bloom high on your cheeks because the softness glazing his features is never directed at you.

It is completely foolish, how hope remains an adherent wavering spirit, and it crumbles in the blink of an eyes, right when his eyes shift to somewhere behind you.

“Soojin..” he mutters and your expression falls.

Jake never gets to see it cause he’s out of your sight as soon as her name leaves his mouth. Getting up from his seat and abandoning the papers he had between his hands and you with them, as you look down at them, it’s ironic how your blush subsides, instead you feel as inconsequential as a piece of paper. Trifle.

“Soojin! Fuck are you okay?” He asks once he’s in front of her, hands on her shoulders and his eyes etched with concern as they dart over her figure in a rapid search for any visible wounds, any evidence to pack up his growing anxious feelings but he finds nothing but puffy eyes and a breathy yawn.

“Gosh I was so tired I ended up falling asleep in the car. Sorry for being so late.” She chuckles sheepishly and despite the smile clinging to her ravishing face it isn’t enough to estrange his ghosts, they stay like foreboding shackles tightened around his ankles, dragging him down.

He almost stumbles, shoulders slumping as his overwhelming feelings transform themselves into pure enervation, it is enough for Soojin to take notice of his all-knowing telltale signs of his anxiety and this time she’s the one who holds him, as if she’s ever able to keep pieces of him together.

“Hey, hey I’m okay Jake.” Despite the nod he gives her, his unfocused eyes are an indication of how he’s not actually listening. His worry only starts to melt when she brings his palm right atop her pulse, pressing his fingers right where life beats “I’m okay,” she whispers softly.

“you’re okay.” He repeats, more to himself yet she nods incessantly.

“I’m here. I’m okay.” Her fingers intertwine with his, laced with a pledge to bring ease into his jumbled-up mind and when she squeezes, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he needed to release.

He is constantly overshadowed by exhaustion. And you sit in a corner, gaze locked on their hands, it only irks your uncertainties -akin to his monsters- to raise to the surface. A feeling you’re so inured to stirs in the middle of your chest, it’s not pleasant and it feels like callous hands have made their way inside, clutching it until you feel like you can’t breathe. Not when she’s here.

You pack your papers and leave the room with an unyielding grip, a heavy emotion sits in the Indeterminate territory between you two, your body is colliding against these walls and it’s all too familiar jealousy.

why why why

Jake only notices when he’s calmed down enough, with furrowed eyebrows his eyes scanned the room looking for glimpses of you.

“Good job everyone! That’s all for today!” one of the staff members yells, a cluster of ‘Good job’s is being thrown around, staff walking around to pack a mess the photoshoot had left behind.

Jake slumps in his chair with a sigh, an ache is starting to spread throughout his body, specifically his shoulders. Despite not having a long day of work unlike his usual days he just feels so exhausted. Soojin stands close by munching on a mini croissant, his mini croissant to be specific.

“You could have asked,” he remarks and Soojin only snorts in response.

“I could have,” she shrugs with a smirk tugging at her lips and Jake’s eyes are already rolling “but I didn’t feel like it.”

He finds nothing to say back, instead his eyes are lolling to you, who’s a few steps away from him, writing something down with enormous potency it’s almost comical. You’ve been a little off ever since his little episode earlier today. Avoiding his eyes and only talking when you’re talked to. Truthfully, it’s how Jake wished you to be, but he knows your proclivity for chatter, for loud laughter to know that you’re not okay.

“Bunny.” He doesn’t get a respond.

“yn.” this time you look up, glancing at him with an empty expression.

Ah so you are upset.

With a raised brow and his index finger beckons you to come over, you sigh, making a show of dragging your feet to him.

“Yes?” you ask when you’re in front of him, looking down at him with faux emptiness clinging to the tips of your lashes.

“Could you get me my phone? I left it in my dressing room right on the vanity.” You nod mutely and just as you’re about to leave Soojin speaks up “Oh! I left my phone there too could you grab it please? It’s the one with the red phone case!” she claps her hands together in a plea, a sweet smile spreading across her face and yet an almost eerie silence fills the air as you turn your head to face her.

“You’re talking to me?” there’s an edge to your tone that makes Soojin’s expression fall, her mouth opening and closing a couple of time.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” She trails off, bewildered.

Your lips separates, ready to spit a response and Jake knows the look in your eyes cannot be anything good and so he stands up, walking past you with a demanding “Follow me.” voice laced with enough venom for your words to dissolve on your tongue and you saunter behind him.

Once you’re in his dressing room, the door is locked, and he faces you with crossed arms. The room is leaden with stillness that has your heart picking up speed, your eye contact falls into a familiar dance, lead by tension, vexation and then something that tastes akin to abhor.

“Are you okay?” he asks and despite the shaking of your soul you stay as frigid as stone. The way your eyes flit behind him in avoidance starts to annoy him right away but he pulls on his composure.

“I’m perfect,” sarcasm drips from your voice and his own teeth sink into his bottom lip, thinking of the right words to say.

“You seem pretty upset.”

“It’s your imagination.” The sneer on your face is cruel enough to expose your lousy acting and he only sighs, his hand falling to rest at his hip.

“If you’re tired you can take the rest of the day off, bunny.”

“I’m perfectly fine Jake.”

“Are you sure? I’m just asking because I assume you’re still worried about your brother so you can leave, or you can take the next few days off.” He attempts to lean down, closer to your height in grappling tries to catch your eyes, his words dripping with odd tenderness, it feels foreign in his mouth.

“Oh!” an extravagant widened gaze takes over your face, your feigned coldness is washed away by the heat of your emotions , profoundly.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your little reunion,” this time you’re not running away, this time your hardened stare melts his softness right off him “you’re trying to get rid of me now?”

“What’s with this attitude? Huh? I'm only trying to help." His benevolent demeanor is already fleeing, replaced with stoicism.

“I don’t have an attitude.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re acting like a fucking brat yn.” you breathe out through your nose, you feel your bones shake from within with licks of anger, it matches the fire setting his eyes ablaze.

“How am I acting like a brat?”

“Do I have to spill everything out for you every single time?” he spits, indignation seeping into every word.

“So, when I treat you the same way you treat me, I’m being a brat?”

“So, you do know what you’re doing.” He raises his eyebrow at you in mocking provocation while your eyes start to escape his anew.

“If you’re gonna ignore me then don’t be mad when I do the same.” You mutter in a much smaller voice, and maybe because you sound frangible, curling into yourself as if that will help you appear smaller, shrinking under his gaze that his annoyance subsides for a moment.

He sighs, demolishing his aggravation for a moment.

“I’m sorry bunny I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just relieved to see Soojin.”

You don’t foresee an apology tumbling out his lips and when it happens it leaves you foundering, not sure how to deal with this mess between you two now. You fall into a discomfiting silence, with callow stubbornness you rake your brain to find something to throw at him, something to blame him for, something that will help quiet down the voice inside of you. yet you come back empty handed.

“Are we good now?” he asks, and you swallow, eyes darting between him and the wall behind him, a yes nor a no wants to find place on your tongue. At the lack of response from you he turns to leave.

You feel foolish as a misplaced proprietorial desire drapes over you when you mutter your next words; “of course you’re going back to her.” A part of you wishes he didn’t hear you, it’s too hideous of a truth for you to admit yet when Jake turns to face you with a twisted expression. Fulfilment engulfs you, knowing you aren’t the only person who cares enough to be drowning in anger.

“Are you jealous?” he jeers.

“I’m not jealous.” Your glare is a flimsy barrier against your veracity.

“You better not be. You and I both know exactly what this is.” He says, pointing at the space between you and him and when your eyebrows scrunch together, he is only grows confused at your anger, doesn’t quite understand what triggered it.

“With the way you keep treating me it’s hard to fucking forget.”

Jake was never really an angry person; he did get annoyed about a lot of things, and many might have considered him sensitive towards a lot of things as well. The list of adjectives to describe him is long and angry isn’t even in his top ten. Yet you, with a flame-like personality and piercing eyes as deep as oceans he only ever sees in his dream, manage to make rage his utmost emotion. You have it rushing through his veins and it’s moments like these when he’s standing in front of you, he feels like nothing but a hurricane of rage and every dark emotion in between.

In an inhale of harsh anger, he has you against the wall, caging your body with a palm flat next to your head, he tilts his head to regard you with a narrowed gaze, doused with wrath that has your knees buckling.

“I’m so sick of having this fucking conversation with you.”

“We don’t have to talk.” You sneer.

“I’m not doing this with you.” he scoffs in disbelief at your words and your eyes only grow harsher with disdain.

“what’s wrong? You can’t fuck me when your dear Soojin is outside?” you mutter atop his lips, your eyes fliting between his mouth and eyes, and the scowl that crawls over his face looks delicious “no. I’m not fucking you because you’re feeling insecure and you don’t know how to deal with your emotions.”

One thing about you, is you’re always as translucent as glass, despite your futile attempts at standing your ground, the way you try to keep your stare as bitter, it all crumbles in front of him and he sees past it all. It’s in the way your eyebrows drop ever so slightly, the way your lips separate with a slight breath as if you felt his words grazing the surface of your heart.

“Keep lying to yourself Jake.”

How do you manage to still get on his nerves? He’s not sure anymore. Even when he cups your face with one hand, denting your cheeks with his fingers.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re pissing me the fuck off.” He spits through gritted teeth, eyes flashing in warning, yet you don’t relent.

“Make me.” you whisper, a smirk curling your lips upwards.

He doesn’t kiss you like he knows you want him to, it’s so evident in the way your eyes fall lidded with hunger, your lips falling open with breaths as you involuntary lean forward with a want for a taste of him. The glint in your eyes, resembles the moon is enough for him to snap, igniting the flame of desire within him and he groans, flipping your body and pressing your chest to the wall, with your wrist between his grip and pressing them into your lower back, a gasp shooting from your lips as you attempt to look back at him.

“Jake what the fu-“

“Shut up.” He growls in your ear, laced by displeasure and overtaken by lust.

Your short skirt gives facile access to his thigh when he nudges it between your legs and against your clothed cunt, an inadvertent shiver courses through your body, every comeback you had conjured up flees your mind and instead a barely audible whimper escapes your lips.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he presses his chest against your back “like the fucking brat you are, so you better take it.” He tells you darkly, his words looming over you and your silence lingers, hanging your head pathetically and he wants to scoff.

For someone who talks so much you fall apart easily every single time.

With a glare set on the back of your head, as if his eyes are bullets that can break through your skull, you shiver when you feel his cold hands remove your underwear. His fingers brush against your folds and wetness meet his hands, a breath of belittlement escapes him, burning the entirety of your face bright red.

“Does pissing me off really turn you on that much?”

You force a swallow, your head lolling into a haze of arousal and your vigour for a quarrel dissolve becoming one with the floor.

“that’s not  it-.” You attempt to reply, your words are cut off by a gasp forcing its way out of you when he presses you further against the wall, your cheek centimeters away from it “didn’t I fucking tell you to shut up?” your sanity collapses along with your common sense, intoxicated by his voice “why the fuck are you talking huh?” he taunts and this time you don’t answer, your chest heaving with the proximity.

His fingers loosen from around your wrists, but you keep them where they are, daunted by retribution. They throb, matching the beating of your heart against your ribcage. He leaves behind reddening marks, residue of a rage that only you are able to inflict on him. He moves quickly to remove himself from the confines of his pants.

You turn your head to the side slightly, stealing a glance at him with an idiotic hope that it’s unobtrusive yet they stumble upon his frighteningly nimble.

“Face the wall I don’t want to fucking look at you.” with a scowl plastered across his face, his voice doused enmity has you whimpering, melting the metal of malignant insults right off your brain as you turn to face the wall again.

your body tenses at the feeling of him lining his cock up with your entrance, his hands rough against the skin of your body and when he sinks into you, he doesn’t give you much time to linger for breathing, setting a pace that is nothing less than brutal, one of his hands inches upwards and wraps around your throat driving you to the brink of insanity, you’re constantly fighting against a losing battle and your moans spill endlessly.

“J-jake slow down.” You cry out, your hand reaching for his hips to somehow impede them.

“Quiet.” He hisses, his tone shaking with a groan and you’re even more turned on by his gravel voice “if you make another sound, I’m gonna stop and leave you like this, do you understand?” you could only whimper in response, a piteous sound that feels revolting as it falls upon your ears, you wish to block it yet a prodigious wish takes over, you hope he takes it as enough of affirmative.

He picks up speed, grows harsher with every thrust, not caring if this whole thing is turning vengeful more than anything else, your teeth sink in your bottom lip, banishing your sounds of pleasure and your eyes roll back, you hang your head, exhilaration taking your mind through a whirlwind, your pain and ecstasy tangling together into a song of nothing but sin and loathing.

At a particular harsh thrust you’re launched forward, your cheek pressing against the cold surface and you’re falling apart, eyes falling open lined with tears, and you lock gazes with him unintended. He is not sure if it’s the whine you let out, or your rapture soaked expression, it’s probably your tears shining like specks of glitter on still water. Whatever it is, it has him by his throat, within reach and his anger is lost in between your arousal as he leans forward and takes your lips for his.

Imprisoning you in a curse of passion with his kiss and you let out a wanton moan against his mouth, as if you were dying to feel his lips upon yours.

He fucks you through your orgasm and his.

As soon as the smoke of lust clears up, a contrasting tension fills the heavy breaths between you two. He moves away from you in silence, his limbs filling with aversion towards you and himself for giving in to you. More than anything he’s congested with disenchantment that he hopes his eyes covey when he looks at you.

“you’re acting the same way you acted the first time this happened.” You ridicule, hurt creases your glance and he lets out a humorless laugh that has you frowning.

“I’m still fucking pissed at you.” he’s flooded with disbelief “did you think I was gonna fuck you and then everything was going to be fine?”

You fall silent, lips pressing together and really there you go again, igniting the flame of prickling rage within him. It has him wanting to pull at his hair, he doesn’t understand you, constantly confused by the way your mind works, the emotions swimming in your eyes aren’t close to aiding anything and it only waters his disappointment. Plunges it further into dirt the more he recalls the events of the day.

You blend with everyone else, everyone who sees him as a shiny toy to play with, to ease their inquisitiveness. After that he is nothing.

“Jake-” You start and your words are once again snatched away from you, a knock on the door purloins his attention away from you.

“Jake? Are you still coming to the store opening with me?” Soojin’s voice reverberates from behind the door, like a blade flung at your chest, your fist clenched.

“I’m coming.” He replies, moving to tidy himself and you splutter, hands going through your hair nervously “y-you’re leaving? Just give me a few minutes to sort out myself-“

“You’re not coming with me.”

“What? But I always go everywhere with you.”

“Not this time.”

You mouth opens and closes a couple of times, suddenly your resentment flees your body like a breath of air, nerves taking their place just as quickly, building all the way to your throat.

“I understand you’re mad at me but at least let me do my job.”

“Your job is to listen to me,” his icy eyes flit to your convoluted ones “I’m telling you I don’t need you so you’re not coming.”

He doesn’t give room for your answer to exist, he leaves the room with despondency clinging to his ankles, a headache is already starting to form and his heart is loaded heavy with conflicting emotions that only ever exist because of you. Disappointment slithers its path throughout his being and he’s growing frustrated for letting himself kneel into hope in the first place. How stupid. The feeling lingers even when he’s in the car with Soojin next to him, her concerned eyes glued to him.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her palm envelopes his with warmth and he doesn't have courage to tell her about the emotions that are breaking him down.

He can't tell her.

You’re just like everyone else.

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[quin-ns]

The blue VIII (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: the final chapter. I had a lot of fun not only writing but sharing my first series with you guys 🫶

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

You hadn’t planned on JJ following you inside, but a part of you knew he would anyway.

You were glad he did, because when JJ took you into his arms, you felt a wave of comfort that you desperately needed. You had so many days to prepare for this, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Thinking and talking about how to tell your friends versus actually telling them was very different.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

You tilted your head up and found JJ looking down at you. You wondered if he could see your guilt as the thought of backing out crossed your mind.

JJ leaned in after a moment. His lips ghosted yours as he muttered, “It’s okay.”

Someone cleared their throat, and it wasn’t JJ. The sound that filled the room came from near the doorway. You tensed and even though anxiety made you want to bury your face into JJ’s shirt, you turned your head.

John B stood a few feet in the doorway, a look of sheer embarrassment on his face. He scratched the back of his head, eyes not meeting yours or JJ’s directly.

“Was just coming to check on you guys…” he said awkwardly, gesturing to you and JJ. You swallowed and parted from JJ, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do. You failed to speak and so did JJ. “So is this a thing, or…?”

“We can explain,” you said, not even knowing how to begin.

“Yeah, we were gonna tell you guys, we just”—JJ shrugged and looked at you—“we just didn’t know how.”

Kiara and Pope picked that moment to come into the house. A spotlight might as well have been shining down on you. You’d probably be sweating in a minute.

“What’s going on?” Kiara questioned, looking between the three of you. “If you’re back to arguing—“

“Kie, stop,” JJ interjected, lifting a hand. “No one is arguing, okay?”

Kiara pouted at being interrupted. “Well what is it then?”

You locked eyes with John B. Your heart stammered in your chest, even as he deferred to you. You looked up to JJ and found him looking at you as well. They’d follow your lead, you could see it in their eyes. They had different tells, but you knew them well enough to figure this out. It was up to you.

You gave JJ a light nod. No backing down now.

“We have something to tell you guys,” you blurted out, facing the group.

JJ reached for your hand, and you saw the moment it clicked for Kie and Pope. Confusion set in, Kie with wide eyes and Pope with furrowed brows. John B’s smile was tight lipped as he attempted an assuring look.

“You… you um…” Pope began, like he wasn’t sure how the sentence ended.

“Yeah,” JJ said. “We’re together.”

You weren’t sure what was worse, the dead silence or the stares you were receiving. Time passed so slowly in those quiet seconds.

“How long…?” Kiara wondered cautiously.

“About a month,” you admitted. “We weren’t sure how to bring it up.”

“I can see why,” Kiara muttered. You heard JJ suck in a breath. “Sorry,” she apologized, actually sounding guilty.

John B shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders slouching. “Well it explains a lot,” he decided. His brows raised in JJ’s direction. “That's why you got so mad at me, isn’t it?”

“I was jealous,” JJ confessed. “I didn’t handle it well ‘cause she didn’t know and I didn’t think I could ever tell her how I felt.”

“I had no idea,” you added, hoping it was the right thing to say. You were at a loss for what the right thing was, truthfully. There couldn’t be a right thing to say in a situation like this. There wasn’t exactly a blueprint for how to explain your step brother was no longer that in your eyes, and that even more than that he was also your boyfriend. “This just sort of happened, but it’s working.”

There was a sense of relief that intertwined with your anxiety. At least you got the words out. They left your mind and now existed in open space. It wasn’t a secret anymore.

“I still have a lot of questions,” Pope commented awkwardly.

It was fair, you would too. So whatever they asked, you and JJ answered. Eventually the nervous energy in the room wore off and you were all able to move back out to the porch, where you continued the little Q and A. You and JJ told them everything. It was uncomfortable at first, especially when JJ started talking about the fact he’d struggled for so long with his feelings before you knew. You held his hand and couldn’t fight your frown as he voiced his former anxiety. It seemed like such a long time ago. You couldn’t imagine a world where JJ looked at you full of love and desire and you didn’t meet his gaze with the same emotions.

They finally got the truth about the night John B and JJ argued, about the movie, about the party—although, the detail about you and JJ sleeping together was one you consciously left out. The two of you were often on the same wavelength and silently agreed they didn’t need to know that much. The fact you both admitted feelings was information enough. Your friends could only digest so much in one night. Eventually JJ would tell John B and Pope on a guys day, and you’d have to tell Kie on a girls night, and they’d all talk to each other, and it would be a thing… but then it wouldn’t. That was usually how things went with this group. Everyone always found out everything eventually.

You and JJ took turns talking. It was the most you’d seen him open up in a while when it wasn’t just the two of you. Even though the looks on your friends' faces read like they were still unsure of how to react, your confidence grew. With every word of admiration JJ said with your name to follow, and how easily amazing moments with him appeared in your mind, you were certain you’d made the right decision. Your friends could understand that with enough time.

“I know—we know—it’s gonna take time to get used to,” you began, fiddling with your hands. They’d have to. They loved you, and they loved JJ. They’d have to accept the way you loved each other. “But do you think you can?” Wouldn’t they?

You looked between John B, Kiara, and Pope, and they exchanged glances between one another. You were sure JJ was doing the same as you.

“Yeah,” John B finally said. “You guys are our friends and if you're happy, then we’re happy for you.”

He sounded like he meant it, and as Pope and Kie nodded along, you could only hope they really did.

Your head hit the pillow with a giggle. JJ was all over you, pressing kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your chest… He slid down your body, lips leaving a trail down your stomach. His hands bunched in the dress you’d worn to dinner—your first official date out in the open—and pushed it up around your waist.

“You’re such a tease,” you said, face feeling warm as he pressed a kiss to your navel.

JJ looked up at you through his lashes and you just about passed out right there.

The day had been perfect. You needed a perfect day after telling your friends about the nature of your relationship.

You woke up with JJ’s arms around you and stayed in bed until you felt like getting up. Making breakfast wasn’t something you usually did, but Luke was absent from the house so you seized the opportunity to enjoy it. After that you and JJ went to an old movie theater you loved. He actually paid for your tickets to the first movie and the popcorn, but then you each got a thrill out of hopping between screening rooms, trying to see as many movies as you could before you got caught (which you didn’t, maybe they didn’t care enough to watch the cameras).

After, JJ took you to the house and you both changed into something nice. You didn’t even know he owned a pair of pants that went down to his ankles, and you laughed when he emphasized what a big deal it was that he was putting them on for you after you commented on it. You found a white sundress you’d been meaning to wear for the longest time but hadn’t had the opportunity to.

“It’s the perfect time,” he had said, voice full of admiration. “You look amazing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you had tossed back, taking his arm as he led you out to his bike.

There was something about being dressed all fancy on JJ’s motorbike that felt as if you were in a scene from a film. Fear didn’t dare to creep in as you held onto his waist from behind—it knew it would be crushed by your joy.

The place you went was still on the Cut, but it was one of the nicest restaurants that your side of the island had. You would’ve gone to The Wreck, but today was just for you and JJ. Kiara wouldn’t have interfered, but you two wanted to be alone. Besides, you didn’t need Mr. or Mrs. Carerra giving you questioning looks when you and JJ ordered one slice of pie and two forks.

You weren’t even sure they had pie on the menu at The Wreck honestly, but the nice place you went did. Key Lime became a new favorite.

You talked, and laughed together, and flirted of course, and forgot the rest of the world existed. You’d never had a real boyfriend, but you could get used to this. That fact that it was JJ made it a hundred times more special. He was the one for you, you never could’ve sat across from anyone else and enjoyed yourself as much as you did with him.

You could hardly keep your hands off of one another when you got back to the house—which you still had to yourself. JJ guided you back to your room, eyes full of hunger and hands moving with intent. The fond recent memories collided with the sensations he inflicted upon you now.

You gasped when his fingers tugged at your underwear. You let him remove them without a hint of protest, and your lungs contracted when he dove between your legs without a word.

His mouth was heavenly, his tongue skilled as he ran it between your folds. You finally caught your breath when his nose rubbed against your clit.

“JJ, please,” you whined.

You felt him grin against you as he lifted his head just long enough to ask, “What is it, baby?”

Truthfully you didn’t know. Words failed you and that seemed to amuse him as he returned to eating you out like it was his favorite thing to do. It might’ve been, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging a little when the pressure began to build. He gripped your thighs in his strong, rough hands to keep them from squeezing around his head. JJ still needed to breathe, but you forgot that sometimes. He was so fucking good you didn’t even have to guide him. You just needed something to hold onto as he devoured you like a man starved.

His tongue worked magic between your legs, lapping at you in a way that had you tensing and shivering.

When your orgasm finally hit, you let out a moan of his name, thighs quivering around his head as he suckled at your clit. He didn’t even need to use his hands.

“I love it when you do that,” he complimented, voice heavy with arousal. Coming down from your high you couldn’t place him for a moment, only trying to catch your breath, but then he was above you. You smiled when you saw blue eyes and pink lips grinning down at you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you managed, pressing up on your elbows to capture his lips. JJ sunk into you, giving you enough leverage to get him beneath you. You straddled him, your lips leaving his to say, “Your turn.”

Your legs laid across JJ’s lap as you laughed along with your friends. It was early in the morning, and you’d all decided to meet up at the Chateau to hang out for the day.

A couple weeks had passed since you and JJ told them all about your relationship. It was going better than you had hoped, which was an immense relief.

Not too long ago they couldn’t control their expressions—you’d catch the curious gazes and side eyes between them. Now, though? They hardly bat an eye when JJ reached for your hand or when you leaned on his shoulder. You tried to keep the PDA to a minimum, but it was easier said than done when JJ looked at you the way he did.

You honestly didn’t understand how you never noticed before.

Right now his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb gliding across your skin as you tried to keep up with what was being said.

“We’re still down to go to the beach, right?” Kiara looked around at everyone.

It wasn’t a particularly sunny day, but the plan had already been made and a few clouds weren’t going to hurt anyone.

“I've been needing a beach day,” you agreed, to which everyone nodded along.

John B clapped his hands onto his knees. “I’ll pack the cooler.”

Once that was done, you all loaded up in John B’s van and headed for the beach. He took the front and Kie took the passenger side, while you, JJ, and Pope hung out in the back.

JJ sat on the ground, his back against the wall. You sat between his bent legs, leaning your back against his chest. His arms locked around you, just holding you as you chatted to Kiara and John B up front.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Pope watching you and JJ. When you looked at his face, a hint of old nervousness threatened to appear. Then you noticed the smile. Just the slightest half smile with the corner of his lip tugged up.

“You good, Pope?” you wondered.

“Yeah, just…” He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ve said it, but I’m happy for you guys.”

His sweet words almost brought tears to your eyes, which surprised you a bit. It was the first time any one of your friends had said something like that. The verbal acceptance made your heart skip as you tilted your head back to meet JJ’s eyes. Sure enough he was looking down at you, a smile on his face.

“Thanks, man,” JJ said to the boy across from you both.

“You guys are good together,” Kiara added from the front. She turned her body in her seat to face the two of you. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you this happy.”

As she said this, you noticed the way Pope watched her, while she seemed none the wiser. Had that been what you and JJ looked like from an outside perspective? The fact that no one suspected anything was nothing short of a miracle on his part. Things could’ve been a lot different if he had been asked too many questions at the wrong time.

You decided at that moment you wouldn’t mention anything until Pope or Kie mentioned it. It would likely be the former, it really seemed like Kiara had no clue. The thought crossed your mind that he could’ve talked to JJ, or if he hadn’t, that he should. JJ wasn’t someone anyone would think to go to for well thought out advice—he was a bit of a wildcard—but in this scenario he had been successful. It couldn’t hurt.

Although that could be saved for another time, another place. Right now you focused on what John B was saying, his head turning between the road and the back.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re not as handsome as me, but”—John B’s teasing was cut off when Kie swatted at his arm. “Hey! I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he assured quickly. You laughed while Kie shot you a wink and sat back right. JJ’s chest shook as he chuckled behind you, but his arms still tightened around your body. “Seriously though, what they said. You guys make a good couple.”

“Thank you, guys. That’s so sweet. It means a lot,” you said to the three of your friends.

“Of course.” John B threw a glance back towards JJ. “You got lucky, don’t let her go. ‘Cause she could do better.”

JJ took the taunt with a laugh. “I don’t know how she settled for me,” JJ joined in at his own expense. “But you’re not getting rid of me now.” That last part was directed at you. He rested his head on your shoulder and despite the odd angle, you managed to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Good,” you said. “‘Cause I’m not letting you go.”

The beach was in sight in a matter of moments out the window. Since it was a random weekday where the sun wasn’t all that clear, John B found a place to park his van with no problem.

You hummed in content as you and JJ walked hand in hand into the sand. You managed to lay down a towel for yourself before the light breeze kicked it up. You laid out on it with a content hum. A lazy smile spread across your face as bits of sunlight managed to beam down onto you from behind the clouds. Nothing was going to keep you from enjoying the beach. JJ took his place beside you while the others made a mad dash for the water. It was probably colder than usual, but you knew you’d get in eventually.

Comfortable silence hung in the air for a while until out of the blue JJ asked, “You remember the last time we were here?”

“It’s been a while.” You tried to recall the last time you were on this beach, but nothing specific came to mind.

The clouds moved a bit, so you shielded your eyes from the sun as you looked up at JJ. He had his knees up and leaned on them. His thoughtful expression nearly had you sitting up, but you just got comfortable, and the look in his eyes was one you came to recognize. It told you not to worry.

“You and John B were chicken fighting with Pope and Kie. And I...” JJ chuckled in spite of himself. “I was so jealous.”

You turned to lay on your back. Memories that felt like ages ago resurfaced, but they really weren’t all that distant. You recalled the chicken fight, and how you’d all gone back to that Chateau. You fell asleep on the couch talking to John B and woke up to JJ in the chair across from you. That morning filled you with just enough suspicion that you guessed something was up.

“What made you think of that?” you wondered. “‘Cause we’re back here?”

JJ shrugged. He looked out at the water, then cast his eyes down to meet yours. A light smile appeared on his lips

“I just didn’t think this was ever gonna happen. Us, I mean.” JJ let his legs fall flat and you pulled yourself to lay your head in his lap. God, you loved his smile. “But I’m really fucking happy it did.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself. “I’m really fucking happy too.”

End.

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[cupidvisions]

𝔭𝔞𝔠-𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

—>about this reading: this reading is going to tell you the lie being told, why the truth is being held from you, and when or if you’ll find out! sounds interesting? then continue reading !

—> how to choose? close your eyes, clear your mind, and open your intuition. the about the numbers, the images, the feeling they gives you. then choose🖤

the banners used are by @cafekitsune !!

1->3

pile 1

signs that this is your pile: pisces, cancer, taurus, capricorn, 5, 8, 15, lots of emotions recently, a feeling of needing help but not knowing how to get it, uncomfortable, back pain 

8 of cups, queen of cups reverse, hierophant, the devil 

the lie

the lie that’s being told to you is that you are a disappointment. this could be a lie your telling yourself, but if there is an outside influence, i’m seeing that the person who may be telling you this is insecure or dependent on you, so they try to keep you down in a low vibration too. i also have a feeling that you may not want to leave this situation or person that is causing you these feelings. this can trigger a sense of abandonment for you. another lie i can see being told is “you can’t leave” or “you can’t escape” maybe you feel stuck on the situation or person you are with. this could also be from yourself. i’m seeing that this lie could make you very emotional. interestingly enough, before i started this reading i felt stuck, like i didn’t know what to say. so i read something that reassured me that i can do this reading. maybe that’s a sign for you to look for someone close to seek help from, or find health coping mechanisms 

why is the truth being held from you?

(i actually feel like the lie may be coming from within so that’s how i typed that part)

it’s being held from you possibly because of the situation your in causes you to conform to the rules of that environment. this can mean that the community your apart of may not be open to hearing what you have to say. it could be brushed off as “a little anxiety” or “not that big of a deal”. i’m having a feeling this lie is coming from within, so there’s a chance that your scared that if you tell someone, you’ll be shamed, ridiculed, or pushed away. this is what’s keeping you away from the truth

when or if you will find out 

(when or if you will tell others)

i’m seeing that you will likely keep this to yourself. maybe the inner voice is plaguing you to keep this in. but there are consequences to keeping this in. it can lead to self destructive behaviors, and you will continue to feel like your stuck or restricted. you may have a toxic relationship with these negative thoughts , like when you try to show yourself some compassion, you may feel uncomfortable or like it’s not right. it may be awhile before you finally open up about how your feeling

pile 2

signs this is your pile: capricorn, virgo, 0, 1, 2, 9, feelings of confusion, optimism

the fool, 2 of pentacles, the hermit, ace of wands

the lie 

i have a feeling that the lie being told to you is that this risk, or new beginning will be worth it. maybe it puts a lot of things at risk or you are blindness going with the flow. i have a feeling that you were convinced by someone or yourself that this “new possibility” will be worth the 50/50 risk. i’m seeing that you don’t wanna miss out on this opportunity, or you’ve been trying to put your trust into going with the flow, instead of being practical and planning. on this card this man is looking in the air blissfully with what seems to be him dancing at the edge of a cliff, and that’s somewhat the vibes i get from this. you really wanna try to be positive about this, but i’m getting a sense that it isn’t like you to just “trust the process”. and i have a feeling you may have been coerced into thinking or feeling like it was a good idea

why is the truth being held from you?

the truth is being held because someone or yourself is trying to get you out of your comfort zone. being told the truth may make you realize that the risk isn’t worth it, or that you could be making a bad decision. i’m also seeing that you are having an internal conflict choosing which side of you to believe. “do i want to take the risk or not?” “new start or comfort zone?” these are the questions you may be asking yourself. taking this opportunity could also put a lot of your priorities at jeopardy or make you lose sense of what your priorities are. in the hermit card, the man is holding a lantern but he’s looking away from it, i feel like this you you looking away from the truth, someone withholding it, or the truth being right in front of you but you can’t see it

when or if you will find out 

you will be told the truth eventually or shown  the right decision. i’m seeing that once you bet out of this limbo of “should i or should i not” it will open more doors for yourself. in fact, a new and even better opportunity can come along. going through this lesson will help you grow, and and gain power from it (could be metaphorical). this also strikes an inspiration in you. if you paint, draw , write, this could inspire you to make a piece from this situation. i’m seeing that you’ll be quite satisfied with the outcome 

pile 3

signs this is your pile: 8, 88, 2, sagittarius, gemini, cancer, the moon, needing a break, tired, relaxing, scared, timid, paranoia, waiting, impatience, listening 

8 of wands reversed, 8 of sword reversed, the high priestess 

the lie

i’m seeing that you are being told to wait, or to be patient about whatever is coming. “you just need to wait” “your being so impatient” is what i’m hearing. i feel like waiting is giving you a sense of panic and fear. this is causing frustration, more panic, tiredness, and paranoia. people around you, or yourself could be telling you to hold off doing something. you feel stuck, and confused. your not sure what to do, and this can be feeding into your anxiety. while typing this i feel a sense of anxiety, and also feeling like i don’t know what to do, i have a feeling you also don’t know what to do 

why is the truth being held from you?

i feel like the truth is being held from you because you may not want to accept it. you have beliefs that are limiting you from your fullest potential. you beat yourself up over this situation, or thing that is causing you this stress. you may cuss or whisper negative things to yourself when your upset. you don’t want to accept the truth. maybe your inner thoughts are telling you it’s too good to be true, or that you not ready to open yourself up to that perspective. although you may be scared, i have a feeling the truth will free you from all this worry 

when or if you’ll be told the truth

i’m seeing that this is a maybe. i feel like it’s really up to you wether you want to accept it or not. i’m seeing that you should trust your gut feeling about this. use your instincts and intuition to guide you to your answer. i’m also seeing a feminine figure, maybe one you look up to, will help with this. i’m finding that this information will be something you hold onto dearly and you will gain a sense of purity, and trust yourself again 

[octopus-punching-union]

Subaru Kagami headcanons

(some spoilers for Hotarubi chapter)

kind of a foodie

Has never thought of himself like that and would deny it if you ever pointed it out

"But of course I spend hours thinking about what snacks and tea my friends would like. It's just part of being a gracious host"

He doesn't really cook, though. If he tried, he could follow a recipe competently, but he would never serve a guest anything less than perfect. And cooking just for himself is a lot of effort and he's not very good at doing nice things for himself. (He has just hot water for breakfast??! Not even tea or coffee??)

He remembers his friends' favorites and makes sure he always has something they like on hand

(don't think about him being alone after the Clash and trying to figure out what to do with his stash of Zenji's favorite things)

On a lighter note. He was checking out Sho's food truck the instant it appeared on campus — he totally went to the mystery diner exactly once when it first opened. Like, even before Ren got hired, when it was just the anomalies working there. It was extremely awkward (he had so many questions and the anomalies can't talk), but he was polite and has never gone back. He doesn't even like to walk past the diner anymore because he feels so awkward about it.

sensory issues

Since he picks up residual memories from just about everything he touches, Subaru is very intentional about everything he buys — especially clothes that are touching his skin all day

Given all the issues with working conditions in the production of clothing, he has a hard time buying clothes and needs to touch everything. There are probably a few students in Hotarubi who are really passionate about sewing, knitting, or other textile crafts, and he goes to them whenever possible.

He puts so much work into helping you pick out a yukata for the summer festivals. He's anxious about taking up too much of your time, so he'll go beforehand so that he can take his time touching everything. He wants it to be perfect and to suit you in every way.

childhood / "rebellion"

Gifted kid burnout x 1000. Subaru has been working since he was four years old and his family is a big deal — he's been in the public eye since he was very young and always had to be on his best behavior because someone was always watching. (No wonder he has anxiety...)

So like, a lot of people who had a strict upbringing kinda go off the rails as soon as they get a little bit of freedom. But to (formal, reserved, self-conscious) Subaru, "subversive" means things like: 1) being a normal student at a normal school (not actually normal at all), 2) lying about the true nature of his stigma so that he won't be ostracized by his peers, and 3) advocating, through the proper channels, for his werewolf bff to be released from prison.

He feels like he's in his rebellious phase right now though, and that's what matters. Plenty of ordinary things feel thrilling just because he was never allowed to do them. Just being around people his own age is exciting! He's never had friends before.

(Ever since he was little, school always took backseat to his kabuki career. Now he's at the top of his class! He's so good at rebelling, guys 🥲)

He is (very slowly) learning to relax and be less formal. Zenji's death really affected him, and he doesn't seem totally comfortable around Haku. I'm really hoping Sho will help him to feel more confident and free!Lyca will cause problems and help him loosen up a little.

I really want him to go on a motorcycle ride with Sho at some point. I ship it think it would be cute. He would over-apologize for being nervous and clingy and Sho wouldn't even clock it as a big deal.

as your boyfriend

No matter what you do, your relationship will be a really slow burn. He's hesitant, afraid of doing something wrong, and genuinely doesn't understand why you would want him. You'll have to be the one pursuing him. (But, if you're patient, your relationship completely changes as he becomes more comfortable and confident.)

He loathes his stigma. It means you'll never have privacy from him, and at first he thinks you haven't considered the extent of it. Of course you'll change your mind, he thinks, once you realize it's constant and unending. He thinks of his affection and desire as an imposition that you'll find offputting, at best.

(Besides, there are plenty of people who would be better suited to being your partner, he thinks. Haku is so relaxed and has no problem joking around with you. Zenji is passionate and unafraid to express his admiration for you. In comparison, Subaru feels quiet and awkward and unable to talk about how he truly feels.)

He can't control what he sees with his stigma. It's frequently innocuous, but when he sees something painful or heavy, he feels that he's betraying you. Because you didn't choose to entrust him with those memories.

So when he accidentally sees something heavier, he'll share one of his secrets in return. He wants you to feel safe being vulnerable with him in this way.

(but sometimes, when you're asleep next to him and he's feeling particularly anxious or insecure, he might touch you hoping to see any reassurance that you're happy with him. He trusts you, he really does, but what if he's not good enough? What if you're only pretending to be happy to spare his feelings? He always feels like shit afterwards.)

Because of all this, he's really uncomfortable with physical affection at first. He feels a lot of guilt for wanting to be closer and wanting to touch you, and he worries that you'll think he's creepy or trying to dig through your past. His affection is sporadic, as he spends a lot of time worrying and mentally preparing.

Also, like. He sends a two paragraph text message full of pre-emptive apologies just to ask you to get lunch. He's going to be that stressed about all of your firsts.

Before asking you to be intimate for the first time, he'll wait until he's so pent up that he can't stand it, then he'll feel really awkward about asking. Because what if you don't want him? What if he's pressuring you just by asking? It's ok if you don't want to, he assures you, and he's so relieved when you say yes.

Not at all a fan of PDA. He'll sit closer to you when you're hanging out with the other ghouls. He might hold your hand if he thinks no one's paying attention. I think he would be clingy when really drunk, but then upon sobering up would be so embarrassed if anyone else witnessed it. (Haku would like gently tease him about it and he would be dying inside.)

He expresses his affection more often with food and gifts — nothing extravagant, just little things to show that he's thinking of you. He wants to spend a lot of time with you, even if he seems distant. Some of his more formal mannerisms with always be there, not because he's uncomfortable or trying to distance himself, but as a way of showing how much he respects and cares for you.

Over time, you become someone he can relax with, someone he feels secure around. He'll always hesitate for a moment before touching you, giving you a chance to move away, but he doesn't feel the crushing guilt anymore.

(he still doesn't eat breakfast, but it's because he would rather stay in bed with you in the quiet of the early morning. It helps him calm and center himself before getting up for the day.)

He wants a peaceful life with you, unremarkable except for the love that you share.

[scullysflannel]

hiiii apologies if i'm sending you too many asks lol, don't feel pressured to reply right away or at all tbh, but there's this thing ive been turning over in my head about the x files that's like... so in many ways it has these conservative ideas kind of baked into the premise and format of the show. these fears of monsters and monstrous others that have to be investigated and neutralized by our heroes who are these beautiful professional looking white people. and then there's the looming fear of alien invasion that comes up in the myth episodes. so theres a lot that could and should and does feel reactionary and conservative about it. but theres also such a palpable love for the strange and unknown? the "i want to believe" poster represents this so beautifully. i think this love tends to be expressed visually rather than in words so it's kind of hard to concretely describe but i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. and then the show also relies on us the audience having an interest in the paranormal and unexplainable, not because we want to see it defeated, but for its own sake. so i guess i want to ask how you square those two ideas, that the x files has all these anxieties about weirdness but also loves and yearns for weirdness? as i said ive been kind of ruminating on this for a while and having trouble reconciling the two ideas so i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Ooh I kind of just want to give you a reading list. Have you read “In the Dark” by Brian Phillips?? It’s a Grantland essay written for the 20th anniversary in 2013. It’s my favorite piece of X-Files journalism (actually my favorite piece of entertainment journalism in general) — kind of an essential text to me. It gets into all of this. But for me I don’t feel like reconciling the tension is the goal, or that it’s even possible. The tension is the show.

Likely thing for me to say, but I think the structure of The X-Files as a procedural is a big part of how and why it moves between fear and love. Phillips describes Mulder and Scully as representatives of a doomed but still operational status quo, “figures of a weird reactionary beauty, struggling to understand and then prevent the profound transformation breaking out across their world.” I’d say that last part (prevention) is especially true of the mythology, with the monster-of-the-week episodes giving space to sometimes complicate that. 

The X-Files is traditional in its basic formula; it makes assumptions about who gets to be the hero and what kind of job they should have. There are some assumptions it doesn’t interrogate, like its default whiteness. But its critique of the government can be shockingly pointed, even if it holds itself back in later seasons by keeping Mulder and Scully in the Bureau well past the point where they should go rogue. (Not that I think the show actually could have done that.)

Does The X-Files love its boundaries or want to blow them up? Both. The appeal of a procedural is typically that it gives neat answers, so being a procedural that denies easy answers is the point, which is to say that both sides of the show are dependent on each other. The whole show is sort of an experiment in fitting some of the strangeness of Twin Peaks into a procedural. I think it’s meant to be a go-between, the same way Mulder and Scully are. 

Phillips also writes, “In this show about not knowing, the agents confronted two distinct sets of frightening unknowns. On one side was the shadow government represented by the Cigarette-Smoking Man. On the other was the evil that lurked beneath the surface of every American hamlet. Often, Mulder and Scully’s role was simply to act as interpreters between their own antagonists, rendering chaotic eruptions of small-town horror comprehensible to men in marble corridors in D.C.” I think The X-Files works like that too — interpreting between what’s regimented and what’s odd — and in that sense it has to yearn for the same things it’s afraid of. And really, I prefer the honesty of that to something more ideologically consistent. 

I always think about “Home” as an episode that sums up a lot of The X-Files’ attitude toward progress (more on this here): It isn’t immune to the romance of the myth of Mayberry, even as it’s aware that it’s a grotesque lie built on violence, and that people are committing perverse acts to hold on to it. The show allows for progress to be scary but insists that it’s not as scary as what people will do when they fear it. Weirdness on The X-Files isn’t perfectly analogous for righteous deviance only. I believe the show sees what is weird coming from all sides, past (like the Peacocks) and future, so what’s weird isn’t inherently good or meant to signify inherent goodness; it only can be good. 

One of my favorite things about The X-Files is the way it respects the integrity of doubt. (I’ve written about this! But hold off on reading if you don’t want any spoilers.) I don’t think the show could be about the bravery of questioning your beliefs without letting those old beliefs be a little bit comforting to Mulder and Scully, even the ones that turn out to be lies. There’s a great New Yorker essay by James Wolcott written in 1994, near the end of the first season. He writes that in The X-Files, the Cold War-era obsession with UFOs and alien invasion gives way to the more inward-looking fear of alien abduction: “The X-Files is the product of yuppie morbidity, a creeping sense of personal mortality.” Later on, the mythology incorporates shapeshifters and alien colonization plans, but it never commits. That’s never the emotional core of the show in the way abduction is. The core of the show is personal annihilation: the fear of death and losing loved ones, and the fear of tearing yourself apart to get to the truth.

But some of the most affecting episodes are the ones that love and yearn for the weirdness in spite of it all. Like you said, it’s always in the atmosphere and the visuals (the poster, or Mulder looking up at the stars), but I think the show puts words to it pretty often, too, like “I guess I see hope in such a possibility” in “Quagmire” and especially all of “Humbug”: “Imagine going through your whole life looking like that.” There’s so much affection for peculiarity in that episode. Still, I love that ultimately it’s just a fact: “Nature abhors normality.” It doesn’t actually matter whether you like what’s “freakish” or not; it’s just nature. I think all of The X-Files kind of evens out into a neutral judgment like that, which is nice and even kind of radical in its own way. What is weird doesn’t have to be beautiful and desirable; it just has to be seen and accepted.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Endure

This is just deeply self indulgent, inspired by @mumms-the-word's fic featuring chronically ill Tav (forgive me please; I want to read it but I have to be mentally strong to do so I think.) So this is just... a little bit of truth from my own life. The diseases are from the setting, but that's it. So this is a little bit of me, fictionalised. Be kind, please.

'I must become a lionhearted girl, ready for a fight.' - Rabbit Heart, Florence & the Machine

Taglist:

@alpydk @boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries

Tav stared into the campfire, walking cane across her lap. I’ll be alright, she thought. A tadpole is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. I’ve got this. Still, she felt the familiar sneak of anxiety in her gut. Now they were in the shadow cursed lands, and death loomed over their shoulders. Astarion was pretending to read a book, but she could feel his feline gaze on the back of her head. Gale was really reading, but she noticed he would glance up at her every few pages, as though checking she was alright.  Shadowheart was eavesdropping on Wyll and Karlach’s conversation, Lae’zel apparently uninterested in socialising, engrossed as she was in a githyanki slate. So Tav sat alone, thinking.

Why did you bring me back? She closed her eyes, furrowing her brow. I never asked for any of this. I’ve been so strong for you my entire life and you let this happen to me. Why? Without warning, tears slid silently down her cheeks. She heard the soft thud of books closing and felt Gale and Astarion settle on either side of her. Astarion’s cool fingers stroked her back soothingly as Gale reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles, both of them comforting in the ways they could. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, not even opening her eyes to look at them.

‘Pish posh,’ said Gale softly, nudging her shoulder. ‘You don’t need to lie.’

‘Just having a crisis of faith, I suppose,’ she said, sniffing and opening her eyes. She wiped fiercely at them with her free hand. ‘Hating my lot in life a little bit tonight.’ She sighed, deep and tired. ‘I thought you could choose your deity. Not me. I was plucked from the brink of death, and I’ve been fucked ever since.’

‘The gods are bastards and wretches,’ said Astarion bitterly.

Tav shrugged. ‘Without him I’d be dead. Still, it’s not like he’s offered me a bounty of beauty or particular skill or-’ she gestured vaguely, ‘-magic. It’s just been a litany of hurts. I’m tired.’

‘I never asked,’ said Gale. ‘About…’ He gestured to the cane.

‘Don’t you dare pity me,’ she said through her teeth. ‘I hate it.’

‘I wasn’t. I just want to know what you’ve been through. And not from some kind of morbid curiosity either. You’ll forgive my bleeding heart if I hate seeing my friends in pain.’

‘It’s not good form to ask these things,’ said Astarion tersely. ‘But then you always were incredibly intelligent and breathtakingly stupid, Gale.’

Tav almost laughed, a single huff of air from her mouth. ‘Sure, I’ll tell you. But remember you asked.’ Dimly aware the camp had quieted, and her audience was beyond the wizard and the elf, she spoke to the flames. ‘I was born too early for anyone to expect me to survive. My lungs didn’t function, there was a stutter in my heartbeat, internal bleeding on the brain, all that. I had some necrosis and blacklung and even spotted plague, all at once could you believe it? I should’ve been dead five times over. I was put through my paces. I don’t know how or why I made it and sometimes I wish I hadn’t. But I did. And I got to grow up.’ A bitter edge crept into her voice. ‘And then something happened to me later, some people happened to me, and now I’m in pain all the time. It never goes away. I can manage it, on a good day, with rest and the odd spell. Potions don't work for me at all. I can’t do too much though, you see.’ Her face hardened. ‘Because the god who refused to let me die was Ilmater. My suffering is divine. I can’t even walk away because I owe him my very existence. How does a baby bargain with a god like that? So I push on. I endure, because I must.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gale. ‘I empathise, believe me.’

‘Right,’ Tav said, voice softening a little bit. ‘The orb.’

He nodded. ‘Still. Self inflicted. It’s different.’

‘Yeah.’

‘If I’d known…’ he continued.

‘You wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it and you can’t now,’ she snapped. ‘I appreciate it Gale, I really do, but this is just my life. And now we have these things.’ Jabbing her finger at her forehead she set her jaw in determination. ‘I’ve been through worse. Doubtless we all have. We’re going to win this fight. We don’t have a choice.’

‘Hear hear,’ said Karlach softly.

‘You deserve more credit,’ said Astarion. ‘You’re strong.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t want to be though. I want to be soft. I want to rest.’

‘You don’t have to do this alone,’ said Wyll, sitting across the fire from her. ‘You have us now.’ His smile was so gentle it broke her heart.

‘Your endurance is admirable,’ said Lae’zel, sitting on Astarion’s other side.

‘For once I agree with you, Lae’zel.’ Shadowheart stayed back from the fire until Karlach grabbed her wrist and plonked her down next to her.

‘Any spells or potions you need, I’ve got you,’ said Gale. ‘It’s the least I can do given you helped me with my condition.’

‘Sweet as that is Gale, perhaps you could start with dinner? Karlach’s stomach is snarling like an angry bugbear,’ said Astarion lightly.

‘I saw that archdruid whittling in the grove earlier,’ said Shadowheart. ‘Maybe he could make you a new cane.’

Tav looked down at the cane in her lap. It was crudely hewn and splintered; she’d done it herself. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, maybe I should ask him.’

[dairymistress05]

My thoughts on the Luke and gf situation. It’s long so bear with me. Also, I want to preface this by saying that this is my opinion, because I don’t know them personally my opinion and many others that have been posting about it doesn’t actually matter in the end.

With everything that has happened in the last several days, I wanted to reflect and discuss my thoughts. First, 2 things that are baffling to me.

1. Why is it so difficult for people to separate the art from the artist?

2. Why do people think their opinion is important to the discussion?

Believe it or not the only people that are allowed to have an opinion in Luke’s relationship, are those who are directly involved

I honestly can’t believe the amount of people that I am seeing saying things like this ruined the show or makes you not believe anything. They’ve been telling us all along, he and Nicola that they were just friends. Do I have an opinion as to why I may not believe that that’s completely true? Sure. Does my opinion matter matter at all? No. This is the thing, it’s unbelievable that people think they can go on the Internet and bash this person because they decided to live a life different from what they projected in their head. Para social relationships with celebrities are fascinating. Also, the internet is forever.

Tom Holland once said “if you have a problem with me, text me, and if you don’t have my number, you don’t know me well enough to have a problem with me.” And I think that’s a perfect example of why this is getting so out of hand. No one on the Internet posting their icks now knows Luke well enough to have a problem with him.

As a 38-year-old married woman myself, I haven’t been convinced there wasn’t anything going on as they are extremely touchy-feely friends. However, there were rumours about a girlfriend and then when the photos came out well then I guess that confirms it. Do I think that’s the end of it, No, but again my opinion doesn’t matter. But there are also several factors why even if Luke and Nicola were interested in each other why they would hold off. Their work relationship being paramount among those reasons.

As for the photos, as an outside observer who has seen Nicola help him through his anxiety this press tour I don’t feel that was a hard launch. He seems extremely uncomfortable in those photos. His body language is off if it was an intentional launch on his part. He’s walking ahead, even the handholding seems awkward. However, the girlfriend unfortunately looks extremely smug, smiling directly into the cameras. I am personally inclined to believe that it was her or a friend of hers who called it in because he doesn’t seem prepared to be photographed. I’m not sure what to think about their relationship as of yet but these photos don’t portray a lot of confidence. Also, the age difference seems like it could become an issue but the thing I would worry about becoming an issue is the social media presence mismatch that is pretty obvious. Sorry, even if I was a dancer I would not want to be posting some of those videos, as I said, the internet is forever.

Lastly, the only other person whose opinion maybe matters is Nicola herself and she has come out to post several times all in defence of him and his character. She is obviously seeing all of the hate online and saying hey guys stop it. I like him. He’s nice. He’s my friend. Quit being mean. And I’ve seen some people say that it’s all Nicola and he doesn’t reciprocate when she’s posting about him and blah blah blah I disagree and here’s why the other day on his IG stories, and I can’t believe no one is talking about this, he posted a photo of a scene from episode 6 to remind people that it’s now streaming and maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the photo he posted he is exactly when Colin is telling Penelope “I won’t let her ruin our night“. (Photo attached) Who is her? I don’t know. But I also don’t think that things on social media are coincidence, especially if you’re a celebrity posting because they know that everybody over everything. And then I also found it quite interesting that he posted on his stories the speech he gives Portia about proposing out of love nothing less and that’s where the real cut off. So again, I think it’s intentional to show appreciation for his friend.

Some final thoughts, I definitely feel like there is a strong connection there whether it’s just friendship or not. I think a lot of people posting online are putting a lot of the owners on him, but what if Nicola didn’t want to date someone that is so much younger than her? What if she doesn’t wanna date at all right now? What if they agreed that? Although there’s a strong connection work relationship is more important right now because of future seasons of the show? We don’t know them. We don’t know the situation and act like you’re devastated about two people that you don’t know not in a relationship seems rather silly.

The only thing I would worry about in this whole situation, is if this relationship with the girlfriend will sour the friendship. Like if it was her who called the paparazzi will she still be comfortable with her boyfriend being in this type of public friendship with Nicola? I sincerely hope so because they seem to have something special even if it is just platonic best friends. Their close friendship is part of the reason Polin works so well on screen.

Anyway, agree or disagree, just my two cents.

I would love to know your thoughts.

[zivazivc]

im too scared to ask because of the answer but is Hed and Les relationship ok?

(you should be scared)

They love each other unconditionally and are closer than most siblings, and I want to answer with a definite yes, but it’s more of a soft yes.

They’d die for each other and would never want to cause each other any harm, but they both hold very deep-rooted and painful resentment toward each other. This anger, while valid on its own, feels unjustifiable and selfish to both brothers, and is why they have a hard time addressing it. It only starts to get resolved later (for now I’m aiming at the time frame after Floyd leaves the band and before Les runs into him again, which is Hed’s late twenties and Les’s early thirties) when Les finally opens up to Hed about things that happened during their early childhood in the Rock Kingdom, which Hed was too young to comprehend or remember, and this revelation puts a lot of things into perspective for Hed and is extremely cathartic for both of them.

Like I’ve mentioned, Les didn’t talk to Hed about his trauma, (they are four years apart which is a big gap when you’re a kid), and Hed could never fully understand why Les had taken him with him to the Funk Kingdom. It’s a question he never receives an honest answer to, and it’s something he (although unwillingly/with doubt) resents him for since he had a difficult childhood in Vibe City as the only tiny Rock Troll who always got othered and excluded, even bullied.

There is also the related issue where Hed doesn’t understand why his brother is so troubled and disconnected, because he’s under the impression that they’ve more or less been in the same boat all their lives. That it’s always been them against the world. He even thinks Les had it better than him since he is half Funk and sticks out less like a sore thumb among a Funk society than Hed does…

I realize I’ve never addressed this directly, even though I figure some of you probably assume it already, but Les is a deeply depressed character and has been like this since he was very young (similar to Branch, although it’s expressed differently), and he has occasional episodes where he spirals and even becomes suicidal. The first time it happened and he tried to go through with it, Hed was only 8-10 years old, and the fact that his big brother was willing to end it all and leave him alone shook Hed’s entire world. The incident filled him with such intense fear and hurt that he cannot find it in him to forgive his brother for it no matter how much he wants to. He also developed anxiety surrounding Les’s mental state and is terrified of letting him out of his sight for longer periods for fear of losing him.

Les’s resentment towards Hed stems mostly from jealousy and not knowing where to direct his own hurt, and he hates himself for these feelings because none of it is Hed’s fault. — Hed is/was both of their dads’ favorite son, and as far as Les is convinced, he was their mom’s favorite too. He dodged all the worst abuse Les experienced under Butch, Butch even flaunted Hed as his son just to put Les down, and as a little kid Les pretty much hated his baby brother for it. Hed was always seen as the “better” brother even though Hed was a loud brat compared to Les. But it didn’t take long for him to grow on Ish and his roommates while there was always tension between Les and his dad (due to Les already being deeply messed up by the time they got to Ish). Hed in general is a charismatic social butterfly who knows how to get on trolls’ good side. He vibes with both Rock and Funk Trolls, and clicks with most music and trolls in general, while Les struggles with social interactions that aren’t work related and often comes off awkward, especially as a teenager, he’s more casual in his twenties and onward, though still very much closed off.

Hed is also very smart (academically, in regards to reading the room he is a dumbass), he always kept up with school, which he was allowed to attend without question, there was even early talk about uni, while Les never even got to finish elementary school because of his poor performance and him getting expelled over an incident, and was forced to start working early.

Hed also (because of his small size) was often let off the hook when he’d get into trouble/do something stupid. He was babied (word used loosely) by Ish and their uncles a lot in general. If Hed broke something, he’d get yelled at while Les would have to fix it or pay for it out of his pocket. 

They lived under two completely different sets of rules all their lives and Les festered a lot of hurt from the unfairness of it.

Les’s resentment wanes over time. Floyd is the one who helps him find release for a lot of his bottled up pain during their time together. Floyd is basically the first person Les confides in about nearly everything he was put through, and he encourages Les to talk to Hed about it. Which he does after a few years, and Hed learning about what his brother was put through as a little kid is what allows him to finally understand and forgive his brother…

[dozing-marshmallow]

When I finish my TDI requests, I’ll open requests and take character requests for That’s Not My Neighbour. With this game, I might make character x character an option, but we’ll see!

ANASTACHA HEADCANONS

Was a girl scout cookie in the past.

Has a friend group that has their own unique filler words such as “and stuff”, “like”, “kinda”.

So distinct that if a friend said a filler word that wasn’t theirs, the group would immediately conclude it was a doppelgänger.

This should be scary, always potentially around a doppelgänger who just wants to devour you, but Anastacha isn’t all that outwardly scared of doppelgängers, especially when she’s picked up that a doppelgänger can only really be harmful if they are let into a building.

Not a lot can scare her.

She adores cats, but doesn’t like dogs since she thinks they’re harder to take care of and they’re “more smelly or whatever”.

Would have really been fixated on Hello Kitty if it was a thing twenty years earlier.

She wants to go to either fashion school or beauty school.

Anastacha is smart, but lacks the motivation to study so she’s a C+ student at best.

Her mother tries to offer encouragement like “Aim to be an A+ student! A for Anastacha!”

Needless to say it never works, but Natasha isn’t all that worked up on Anastacha’s academics anyway.

Besides, it’s not like she goes out of her way to bunk any lessons or start drama.

Though, she and her friend group do go to the bathroom to do their makeup more than they actually need to use it.

Regardless, Anastacha appreciates her mother and enjoys spending time with her.

As for her dad, she and him have a good relationship too.

She’s often curious about his job and would go to his apartment whenever she feels paranoid about the doppelgängers, only if her mother hadn’t come back yet.

They would draw together to make her feel better.

The bags under her eyes mainly come from her staying up to draw new designs, trying new hairstyles on herself or having a spa session.

And then of course, it comes to bite her in the morning when she has to wake up for school.

However, these activities are kinda more of a distraction from the internal anxiety she bears of the day of losing her mother, father or her own life to a doppelgänger that keeps her up in night.

Either way, she’s still pretty relaxed in the face of danger.

She has bunny plushies on her bed and pink flower print wallpaper.

Wants to get pink or purple highlights, but she can’t since the school is strict.

So she might get an ombré, but it wouldn’t look as cool if she kept it in those twin ponytails.

[crowleysgirl56]

Concerning the reactions to the comment David made to a young woman about the ending of Good Omens season 3 (including mine).

Firstly let me start by saying that most of my posts are to be taken a jokes. They are written to be mostly tongue in cheek, sarcastic and (what I think) are hilarious. So even though my previous post about freaking out about what David said might seem like I was legitimately panicking I just want to say that it was a joke and please don’t take it too seriously. Honestly I hope it just made you laugh, and you continued scrolling. If my post caused anyone to further their own anxiety or freak out, I apologise. If my post contributed to the fandom as a whole slightly losing their minds, I also apologise.

For those of you who took your reactions to David’s comment a step further and threatened that poor girl, insulted her, or were just generally mean to her, stop it! Don’t do that! Don’t be awful. Please be kind. Go and apologise!

With that out of the way, I did want to do a quick* analysis of the comment and perhaps address why people (and to a little extend myself) are feeling nervous.

To begin with, Neil has previously said (and this is a really good point), David was speaking directly to a fan, and was unaware he was being filmed. So when he says “maybe it’s not the ending you want”, he’s speaking directly to the person who asked him. We don’t know the context of their interaction beforehand and maybe she (or anyone else) had already expressed what their desire for the ending is, so this was his response. However taken out of context, the fandom has put themselves in the shoes of the person asking the question and therefore inserted themselves into the you part. The ending might not be want we want or expect. And considering the number of discussions the fandom participates in, the number of headcanons the fandom throw around, and the number of fanfics being written and read, whatever ending Neil has written is not going to satisfy everyone. It’s impossible to. But that is the same of any fandom really.

Speaking of fandoms, yes we are collectively nervous for a few reasons. One, for a good month there, we were convinced that the ending of season 2 was what the end of that story was going to be. Then when it was announced there’s still one more story to tell, there was another four months before it was finally confirmed that we were going to get that story. Two, case in point Game of Thrones. I don’t think I need to explain anymore than that. We have been burned before and now we’re worried it could happen again (though I will point out here, Neil has a better handle of storytelling and the love, devotion, and desire to finish a story that is beloved to him and is effectively a love letter to his best friend, compared to two TV producers who got bored and wanted to move onto other projects…). Three, filming is still 6 months away, and the premiere likely another year after that. A lot can happen in that time. So after these experiences, I can appreciate why people get nervous and a little in their heads about things.

In terms of the immediate reaction to what this could mean for the ending itself, I honestly cannot fathom how some people have managed to draw a straight line from “It might not be the ending you want” to “Terry would absolutely hate it”. Like, that just boggles my mind. HOW do you extrapolate that? David then immediately said “It’s a good ending”. So I think it’s safe to say that it will be good.

So let’s talk about endings and what people are mostly worried about.

1) Crowley and Aziraphale become human. This isn’t going to happen. Mainly because Neil has joked multiple times that this is the ending. Therefore if he says “this is what will happen” I’m pretty confident that this is what definitely won’t happen. You know after season 2, I ended up writing my own little fan fiction about them becoming human. I thought it was sweet and cute. Then I saw a lot of people absolutely hate that idea, so I never published it anywhere. Oh well.

2) Either one or both of them will die. Also not going to happen. Something tells me that Neil would not participate in the “bury your gays” trope. I do think that maybe there might be a non-permanent death or near death in the climax. But both will live, I’m positive of this.

3) Sex. I’ve spoken about this before. We’re not getting hardcore sexual activity. This is not the show for that. Neil has said before he’s not into writing that kind of thing. Do I think we’ll get more kissing? Yes. Do I think there will be implied sex? Maybe, hopefully, I’m wishing for it. But there is not going to be actual sex folks. Please make your way to AO3 for your reading pleasure.

4) The South Downs. And now we get to what I’m most worried about. That we won’t get what everyone assumes the ending will actually be. Crowley and Aziraphale retired and living in the South Downs. Will I be disappointed if this doesn’t happen? Absolutely. Will I lament here about it? Sure, probably. Will I send Neil abusive messages about how he destroyed and ruined the ending? NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! AND DON’T ANYONE ELSE DO THAT EITHER!

So, will the ending be what we want? There is every chance that it will be, but always a possibility that it won’t be. This is the nature of storytelling. You will never satisfy everyone. Will the ending be good? I have no doubt in my mind that it will be. David says it’s a good. I trust him. Neil says it will be good. I very much trust him.

This is a comedy, first and foremost. Comedies have happy endings. Let’s just take a collective breath and believe it to be so.

*by “quick” I actually meant “really long”. Sorry about that.

[biochem-in-training]

This is going to be an extremely long thread of my opinion about Bridgerton S3, especially Polin (and comparing Polin to a certain ATLA ship). So, good luck reading it.

I knew there are a lot of mixed opinions about Bridgerton S3; I have too. Around 50-60% from the book, Romancing Mr Bridgerton, has adapted to the show, which I, as a book reader, am happy to see. I also love the changes from the book that showcases Penelope (and Nicola Coughlan) to shine with awesomeness and deserves a lot of love and recognition after what she's been through.

I can understand why Netflix split into two parts. Part 1 is entertaining, pining and rom-com. While Part 2 is anxiety, emotional and romantic drama. Probably to let viewers breathe. But please don't do that again; I like to binge the whole thing without waiting.

There are:

- Great scenes -> Portia reconciling to Pen and being supportive (thanks Colin!) and Pen having the confidence to reveal herself as Lady Whistledown (LW), instead of letting Colin steal the spotlight for her. Also the Francesca/John romance as they "match their freak". There's actually a lot of great scenes actually, from Keeping Up With The Featheringtons to Peneloise reconciliation.

- Revenge scenes I like -> Penelope telling off Colin for being an asshole. Also, Lord Debling courting Penelope, making Colin jealous. The Vindication™ for Pen because that's how she feels.

- Some I groaned -> a threesome? Like really? I find it funny, but cringy.

- Some I am suspicious -> Michael Stirling [man] is gender-swapped to Michaela Stirling [woman], but I'm more cautious than angry about the change. The woman is so goddamn pretty though, heh. I don't mind inclusivity, but it should be addressed with care if it's done for a main Bridgerton character. Besides, I like Francesca's story from the book, When He Was Wicked, and how it explains about infertility. My opinion is that the showrunner should just keep the characters and important parts of the storyline as it is. But I'll see how it goes and hope for the best.

- And others that make no sense -> the lack of Kanthony, like where are they!? And why do they disappear all the time!? This is not them as they are always attentive. They were excellent in managing the Bridgertons and their mess. I love Kanthony so bring them back!!!

What I will analyse and defend is show!Polin.

When I read negative reviews about them, I shake my head in disappointment because the fans didn't understand it. I also read an article where Luke Newton explains why Colin is Jelly, as shown below. His insight justifies my point.

Since I read RMB, this gave me first-hand insight on the up-and-down relationship between Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington-Bridgerton. I also included a favourite ship of mine from ATLA for comparison and how Polin's dynamics makes sense to me. (There's no need to have knowledge of ATLA as I will explain it).

So here's my opinion about Polin:

To be honest, I was expecting k/a tropes in Polin, as they are both friends-to-lovers ships obviously. What I don't expect is that show!Polin is more related to Zutara instead, which is awesome (as an unfortunate Zutara shipper)!

I find Polin's love story to be as realistic as possible, knowing that a love story is not all sunshines, lollipops and rainbows. There will be disputes, doubts and secrets; I'm satisfied that they are all displayed, like in the books! However, there are some scenes from Polin that I am mad about.

Also, I DON'T CARE that Polin does not have THE chemistry similar to Kanthony or Saphne(?) (Simon/Daphne). They have THE connection with each other. Friends-to-lovers don't need chemistry; it rarely exists in real life. Friends-to-lovers stories are messy, awkward and full of disagreements, but the connection and their romance for each other is always there between them. They are there since Season 1 and are always seeking each other. That's as real as it gets.

Themes I like from Polin and how it compares to Zutara:

1. Hiding their true self: Colin having some swag, being impassive, nonchalant mood, and goes to brothels; I find it weird. However, someone analysed that it's a facade because Penelope doesn't write to him, so he went on a teen girl phase and lost his damn mind, heh. Eloise, Pen and Violet know that that is not the Real Colin, who is a soft boi. He mentions that he is yearning for home and wants to feel like he belongs somewhere and to be seen for who he truly is.

This is similar to Zuko when he was sad/mad that he was banished and his father didn't love him, so his personality became antagonistic. Iroh knew that's not the Real Zuko, who was a gentle boi. Therefore, Iroh planned to nudge Zuko to a different side rather than following Ozai's goals.

Additionally, Penelope disguises herself as Lady Whistledown, Katara as The Painted Lady, Zuko as The Blue Spirit, and Colin as The Travelling Englishman/Pirate.

2. BETRAYAL: (I can't emphasise this enough because this theme let's me understand and love Polin). Penelope is anguished about Colin's comments that he don't give a 💩 about her and will never court her (Le Asshole 101 😒). Colin is heartbroken that Pen is LW*. Katara and Iroh were shattered that Zuko joined Azula to fight against Aang in Ba Sing Se. All of these events are unforgivable.

*(The fact that Luke Newton cried in the LW reveal scene as well as angry portrays Colin as heartbroken than enraged, which makes the scene more heartwrenching. I like that so much better than Colin having a temper like in the books and Katara just enraged when Zuko attacked her in Ba Sing Se. Thanks, Luke Newton, for making me feel sorry for Colin 😏).

Another one is that Colin argues with Penelope that she wrote negative comments on LW, about his family, Marina Thompson (in my opinion, she deserved it for being deceptive), himself, herself and everyone else. He also feels that she has a "planned entrapment" for him to marry her, even though I knew he didn't mean it; he is devastated that she is not who she seems to be. Colin wants to feel needed and really yearns to love her fully because he wants to provide everything for her. But he doesn't think he's enough or unworthy for Pen and that he's not sure he'll ever accept Pen as LW, which makes me sad. Also... he's jealous that she's more successful than him since she's rich as hell, an experienced writer and got her 💩 together. Something he wants to achieve, I think. But dude, you married a Sugar Mama! Similarly, Katara argued with Zuko after the Ba Sing Se fiasco and told him to bring her mother back; I found it absurd too, but I knew she was upset for being deceived and hurt as well, like Colin.

3. Self-confidence and accountability: Pen has brought her own voice to address the whole Ton that she is LW and to let them judge her. Nicola Coughlan has done it perfectly in that, as a shy but confident woman. She understands that people are hurt from her comments, but she wants to have a purpose - not as a spy though, heh. She wants the world where women, especially shy wallflowers, are seen and shine brighter as well in a patriarchy world. Also she understands that Colin is upset that she is LW, but she's adamant that she is and nothing will separate LW from her. LW is power and it helps women like Penelope earn her place in society, besides dilly-dally.

Also, Colin pushes Lord Debling away so that Colin can have a moment with Pen to change her mind and make her pick him, choose him and love him. He doesn't care that the Ton sees them, he just sees Pen. Also the way "he ran!" (thanks Dallas Liu 😏) to Pen's carriage just to confess to her. He is confident of his feelings for her, but respectful if she rejects him.

Same goes with Katara that she wanted a world where women can choose to learn waterbending to fight and men to learn healing, or both. And to Zuko that he had redeemed himself and wanted to end the war as the Firelord with ideals that brought all nations together in peace and harmony.

4. Accepting flaws and empathy: Colin accepts that Pen is LW, because he finally realises why while begging to Cressida: the isolation, the bullying, being ostracised and unappreciated, and the anger that no one will ever recognise, listen or stand up to her. But he knows she's not heartless and does regret her words that are published. Also, her letters to him amplifies that she is a great writer and that her and LW are the same person. After Pen reveals herself to the Ton that she is LW, apologises for it and explains why, Colin is more proud and in love with her.

Zuko saw Katara bloodbending (manipulating bodies through their blood). He was surprised. He didn't question it. He didn't chastise her that it's bad or that she's not herself. He accepted it as part of herself. He just wanted her to face her past and let her choose her fate. The End.

5. Conflict: Colin and Pen love each other so much, despite a Great Wall of Anger and Doubt separating them. Katara knew Zuko was not evil, but had to separate Zuko the Fire Prince with Zuko the Awkward, Caring, Flawed Boi.

Also, Katara and Zuko saw each other as legit rivals during the 100-year war. Meanwhile... well... Colin does see Pen as a rival... indirectly though as she's LW, while he is... just a Bridgerton... with no accomplishments... and a loser, heh.

6. Partnership: Pen agrees with Colin that he'll help her find a husband (even though he hired himself as one, heh). Also, Colin and Pen become writers together, as an author and columnist respectively. All hail Lord and Lady Whistledown! 🙇‍♀️ Meanwhile, Katara and Zuko became partners to find the one who killed her mother, fought together side-by-side during training and trusted each other to defeat Azula.

Extra: There's also a lot of love confessions and moments from Polin that made me giddy with joy, sad and amused (and jealousy for being single). Especially... That carriage scene, heh.

Now for the things I'm disappointed about Polin:

1. Colin doesn't tell Penelope that he forgives her verbally. Like since when did he forgive her? Katara told Zuko verbally that she forgave him, so why doesn't Colin say it to Pen? Same applies to Pen: where's her forgiveness to Colin? Unless I forget.

2. There's a quote from the book I like that Colin says “I love you. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles” to Pen before he leaves to beg Cressida as Pen's distressed about Cressida blackmailing her. I'm sad that one is excluded.

3. Colin being an asshole for not allowing Penelope to let her fix her mess nor asking for his support at the start. Saying that "it is not up to you what we do", probably because he wants to be a hero. Dude, calm down, listen to your wife and compromise. She can handle herself and does not need him to fix it for her, which I think makes him feel useless and worthless as he likes being needed 24/7. Besides, he makes it worse after begging Cressida, heh. Zuko survived listening to Katara's rants and threats against him, and he still wanted to make it up to her, so Colin should do the same.

4. Colin being a Drama Queen™ for not sleeping with Pen because he's an idiota; he reminds me of both Katara and Zuko since they were Drama Queens™ as well. However, it broke my heart for Pen; she deserves better and deserves to have a wedding night full of love, not doubt. Fortunately, he does sleep near their room - like Zuko waited for Katara outside her tent - because Colin still deeply loves Pen and wants to feel closer to her, despite being angry with her. Also, he sleeps on a chaise lounge where they made love because it reminds him of the happiness they have shared before the LW mess. Additionally, he ignores his lust for her while pissed, but I think it's a good idea not to have angry sex as it's just not healthy emotionally and mentally for them.

5. It would be nice if Colin allows Pen to read or discuss his journals more, like in the books. I want to hear his thoughts more.

6. I really want to see more of the lovey-dovey happy Polin moments without any doubts or lies between them; it's not enough. Where's the Polin sex?! Gimme more Polin!!!

So that's my long analysis about S3 and why I like Polin, the good and bad. Also, Polin did change my whole opinion about friends-to-lovers stories after I had a sour taste of it from a ship I'm not supportive to, but that is for another story to tell. 

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hi.

I feel quite silly writing in but I'm not really sure who else to ask. I come from a genus with a lot of media coverage, well not really general media just media pertaining to, ah bedsport? I think because of that I never was really interested in pursuing physical relationships. Felt like it would be playing into stereotypes and all. Also, a lot of people just make things a bit gross when they realise what genus I belong to. It's all kind of tangled up in my head, how I look at me vs how others do and how that can create false expectations.

But there's a boy now, and he's sweet and lovely, never brought up any bed related topics and makes me feel genuinely seen. But as our relationship moves forward, I want to explore well, bedsports with him.

At what point and how do I bring up the ways media isn't really truthful about all the details of my genus physicality?

I'm pleased to see you were able to set aside your concerns of feeling silly long enough to write in. It takes a lot of courage to broach topics one might otherwise prefer to keep private, but bringing these matters into the light is the only way we can find a path forwards.

Unfortunately your experiences are far from unique in the creature community. There are any number of genuses which face this kind of sexual prejudice, with individuals battling every day against assumptions around what kind of sex they will enjoy, how often, and with whom.

What is worse is that these assumptions are not limited to ignorant sapios. Plenty of people in the community carry such unchecked assumptions, from imagining lycanthropes as ferocious, libidinous lovers to assuming a physical form is necessary for sexual pleasure, leaving etheric individuals out of the conversation entirely.

The first important point to keep in mind is that you are not responsible for other people's mistaken assumptions. Whether your desires map onto certain stereotypes about your genus is simply neither here nor there. You cannot be “playing into stereotypes” simply by expressing your genuine sexual desires.

You ask when to bring the topic up with your partner. I'm afraid there is no set time-frame for this kind of conversation. Instead, you must work on building confidence in the relationship so that whenever the conversation does take place, it can happen within a framework of trust.

When you feel the time is right, you need to be upfront. Let him know that you've never had sex before, but you're interested in exploring that type of physical intimacy with him.

But remember, this is a conversation, not a monologue. Your boyfriend might understand everything you tell him immediately, and feel just the same way. Or he might not.

He may not be aware of the stereotypes associated with your genus, and want to discuss them. He may have no interest in sex, or not yet feel ready to take that step with you. Or he may have anxieties of his own around sex that he hasn't shared with you until now.

You can't write your partner's side of the script. Instead, prepare to be flexible and react to your partner in a way that is safe and loving in the moment – safe and loving for both of you.

Finally, remember – there's no rush here. You can always take a break, reflect on what's been said and come back a day or two later. All that matters is that you both engage with the topic with honesty, and centre kindness and respect in the way you discuss it. Best of luck, reader.

[useyourwordsdarling]

Hey, I hope this isn't too rude considering you already have an effing mountain of asks in your inbox, but I wanted to express my gratitude. No pressure to respond; I just hope you see it, and it makes you smile. Just read the pink out of this word salad; my kink is that I feel the need to explain my reasoning like a proper STEM idiot.

(below explaining why I'm thanking you essentially)

Probably oversharing here, but:

For the last two years or so, I've started to believe that the only men who would accept me were those that needed me as their therapist rather than a partner. I don't mean just listening to them; I mean them struggling with mental health crises and me having to pick up the pieces like the empathetic dumbass I am (and them being too scared to call the hospital). These are just the sort of people I seem to attract. As you can imagine, that did wonders for my self-worth and future perception of people who hit on me.

I already consider myself an eccentric woman. Among other things, my libido often feels insatiable. I write smut both on and off tumblr, the latter of which is some of the most nonsensical, most embarrassing, most bizarre shit I have ever written. 783 pages since 2020, the last 100 pages of which have been me realizing I have a deep-seated desire to be a cocksleeve. It's hard enough to tell people how much I care about having a healthy, passionate sexual relationship without bringing any of that into the mix.

(end explanation, TL;DR I attract shitty men and am insecure as hell about my own sexual preferences.)

All of that has made me despair on numerous occasions that I will ever get to know someone who both actually loves me and wants to fuck the absolute shit out of me.

But blogs like yours have lifted me out of that hellhole of anxiety more than once. Seeing both your own fantasies and the way you respond to your asks makes me feel like I'm not doomed to a relationship where I will have to sacrifice a large part of myself for the other person's sake. It makes me think: "People like this exist somewhere."

Thank you for being a dom that cares about your sub, and thank you for sharing on this blursed platform where I could see you.

Side (less wholesome) note: Yes, you have provided a lot of fuel for my smut pieces, and I am officially blaming you for the fact that there are now 446 fucking instances of the word "Daddy" in my most recent collection.

I appreciate how much effort you put into making this. And as another STEM idiot I love the way you made your reasoning. Also to be clear I love asks, I just have a hard time replying to many at once, but I appreciate them a lot.

And as to you attracting shitty men, I understand how exhausting and how heavy it might be the burden to carry the responsibility over someone’s mental health issues. But I think that also says a lot about your character, how you’re someone who’s really caring. Who wants to help these people, which is an amazing thing but it can be problematic if you don’t set boundaries. Which is a hard thing to do (I know because I’m bad at that…) it’s healthy to focus on your own mental health, your own problems. Especially when we have very little energy left.

And you aren’t doomed for that type of relationship I believe. And I hope you eventually find the right person who’ll love you and not make you responsible over their mess (and also fuck the shit out of you, fingers crossed). So it’s just a matter of time

Side (even less wholesome) note: I’d be lying if I said part of me isn’t curious about those 446 instances now..