#the last case made my brain hurt but it was so worth it

[be-good-to-bugs]

yay weed

[avatar-anna]

This is another tattoo artist! Harry x ballerina! Reader, but at the beginning of their relationship. You can find the first blurb here

"When can I see you again?"

Your cheeks betrayed your cool demeanor, something they'd been doing all evening. You wanted to appear not as nervous or giddy as you felt going on this date, as if you frequently went out with handsome, muscly tattoo artists. Was that the case? Heavens, no, but you didn't want to look like a deer in headlights all night, and the way Harry's eyes devoured you, the way his lips kept finding your neck or cheek, wasn't helping.

"I—I'm busy all w—week. Training."

Harry hadn't let up his ministrations on your jaw, making it ten times harder to speak to him than it already was. But that last little corner of your brain that wasn't totally consumed by him wiggled its way to the front, reminding you of your responsibilities.

"Mm. What about after?"

"After?"

You felt him smile against your skin, his knuckle grazing the side of your face. "Surely you won't be rehearsing all night. What time are you normally done?"

"Um...six, but I usually go to bed pretty early."

"Gee, bunny, you're making me think you don't want to see me again. Breakin' my heart here."

"I do!" you hurried to say, perhaps a little too quickly. But it made Harry smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I—I do. Want to see you."

"Tell you what," he said, leaning one hand on the door at your back, just above your head. "I'll pick you up from rehearsal and bring you home. How's that sound?"

"That's it?" you asked, intrigued by the suggestion. Your intention wasn't to be difficult on purpose, but you had a tight schedule as a dancer at a prestigious ballet company. You didn't date much because of it, most guys not considering you worth the trouble, but Harry had been persistent. You admired that about him, and it made you like him all the more.

"That's it," Harry promised, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Unless of course, you invite me inside your apartment and let me spend the whole evening taking good care of you, but I'll settle for a walk to your apartment."

He was so sure of himself, but in a way that was charming, not off-putting. He was all the time, to the point where you thought it was an act at first, which was why you initially said no when he first asked you out. But you came to realize that was just who Harry was—charming, easygoing, confident as all hell. You found it attractive now, though sometimes it made you feel like you were even more anxious than you actually were.

"It's a date."

Smiling, Harry kissed you long and hard one last time before stepping away. "Try not to think about me too much while I'm gone. Can't have you falling out of a turn and hurting yourself before I can take you out again properly, hm?"

You swooned as he walked away, leaning fully against your front door unashamed as you watched him get on his bike. He'd left it here while you walked to a restaurant a couple blocks away. The engine roared to life as Harry hit his foot against the kickstand, winking at you before driving off.

You should've invited him in, you thought as you finally turned around to unlock your door. But another part of you applauded your restraint. It was too new, your plate too full, to jump too quickly into something you weren't sure you were ready for. Slow and steady, you'd promised yourself when you first agreed to a date with Harry.

Still, when you went to bed alone that night, you couldn't help but think about his teasing about you caving and letting him inside tomorrow, and how nice it would've felt to have been tucked into his side as you fell asleep.

*.*

a couple weeks later

"Who is that?"

Your head whipped up from your phone, following your friend's line of vision. Immediately your cheeks flushed, the view nearly overwhelming you.

Harry leaned against the side of the building you emerged out of, one leg propped against it as he lit a cigarette, you narrowed your eyes a little at the smoke he puffed out, but couldn't help but admit the inherent sexiness he exuded from performing such a simple action. His tattoos were on full display, peeking out beneath his shirtsleeves and up his neck. Such a tough exterior for someone who was actually quite charming and soft.

"I don't know, but I want to."

You looked over to where your two friends were standing, drinking Harry in as he blew out smoke through his nose. Their gazes stirred something uncomfortable in you, a possessiveness over Harry that you'd never felt for anyone before.

"He's my ride," you said, even though you and Harry always walked home together. You'd casually mentioned walking by yourself or taking the bus once, and Harry had been appalled by the revelation. He'd been waiting for you after each rehearsal and class ever since.

"Oh. I didn't know you had a brother, Y/n," your friend, still eyeing Harry.

"He's not my brother. He's my boyfriend."

"He is?"

Ignoring their incredulity, you hiked your bag higher up on your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry's head raised to look at you as you approached, a small smile forming on his lips as you drew near. "Bunny," he murmured before reaching for your hand and pulling you to his chest.

"Hi," you said a little breathless.

He took his time kissing you, one hand cupping the side of your face and the other on your waist but inching south where it would be a little inappropriate out in public. You pulled away, cheeks flushed for a multitude of reasons as Harry grinned at you and took your bag and slung it over his shoulder before starting on the walk back to your apartment. Sighing dreamily at him, you let him grab your hand and pull you along.

"Were you talking about me over there?" he asked, nodding behind him to where your friends were still standing.

"No—Yes," you admitted. "They think you're cute."

Harry's brows raised as if that was the last thing he expected to hear, as if he didn't know women didn't ogle him regularly.

"Really," he said as he began to walk down the sidewalk, your hand in his. "So you told them we were seeing each other?"

Your whole career was nearly solely based on your ability to be graceful, to appear weightless as you leapt through the air or stretched your leg high above your head as you balanced on the other. Yet when Harry asked that question, you stumbled. Enough that Harry placed a cautious hand on your elbow. You didn't expect him to hear what you had said to your friends, let alone question it. You'd not been seeing each other long in the grand scheme of things, so perhaps your statement was a little presumptive. But you didn't want your friends to think he was available, either. Now you worried Harry still believed he was.

"I know we haven't been seeing each other very long, but I didn't want them to get the wrong idea. I'm sorry if I've made things—"

"Relax, bunny, I'm only teasing," he said, leaning down slightly to press his lips to your burning cheek, nudging you with his nose once before pulling away. "But I like the idea of you being possessive of me. It's cute."

This was not how you wanted to have the "What are we?" conversation, but apparently it was happening. "I...I like you a lot. Like I said, I know it hasn't been long and our schedules are crazy, but I—I like you, and I feel like you should know that even if I could I wouldn't be seeing anyone else."

You purposely kept your eyes forward, not wanting to see Harry's expression as he took in what you said. He'd been nothing but a gentleman since you met him, but you also wouldn't be surprised if he was the kind of guy that liked to explore his options.

Harry didn't say anything for a minute, making you more and more anxious with each step you took. Maybe you should've waited until you were closer to your apartment. That way if he didn't reciprocate your feelings you could quickly hide and die from embarrassment alone.

Before you could tell him to forget it, Harry finally spoke. "You know I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first time I saw you?"

Your head whipped to meet his gaze, eyes wide. A faint blush dusted Harry's cheeks, something you'd never seen before. He'd been cool, calm, and collected since you'd known him, never once showing an ounce of nerves. Now he looked almost bashful as he walked beside you.

"Really?"

Harry briefly covered his smile with his free hand. "Really. I was crushed when you said no the first time I asked you out. And since you've said yes I've been trying so hard to impress you and be the kind of guy you'd normally be interested in. Shit, the guys at the shop give me hell because I wear shirts with less holes in them and walk with you everywhere because I know how you feel about riding on my bike and sometimes I stare at the clock or my phone like an idiot until I can pack up and finally see you. I've even been smoking less because I know you don't like it."

You didn't know any of that, but how could you? You smiled a little at the idea of Harry's friends teasing him, imagining him stressing about what to wear or what to say before a date the way you did.

"Harry, I—I don't want you to try to be anyone else," you said. "I mean, the smoking is a terrible habit and you should absolutely quit, but that's besides the point. I like you already. I liked you before you started buttoning your shirts more, and the motorcycle, while dangerous, is really sexy."

Harry's responding grin was immediate. "Sexy, you say?"

You scoffed. "Shut up. I've seen the way you look at me while I stretch."

"It's because you give me so many ideas when you do," he said. "So many ideas, bunny."

Your entire body warmed, the suggestion in Harry's tone impossible to ignore. You hadn't slept together yet, though not because neither of you wanted to. You liked to be sure about a guy before taking that step, and Harry had been understanding and waited for you. After everything you talked about on the walk to your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to pull him inside with you.

Neither of you spoke for the short remainder of the walk, but Harry's arm eventually draped over your shoulder and you were tucked into his side. His hand played with the ends of your hair, distracting you while you tried to decide whether or not to throw caution to the wind and let him into your apartment.

When your apartment finally came into view, you snuck a hand beneath Harry's shirt, running your hands along the solid planes of his stomach casually. "About those ideas..."

"I know, I'm sorry I brought that up when I'm just dropping you off. We'll have to—"

"I have ideas too," you said, trying your hardest to keep your voice even as you took the final steps to your door. Untangling yourself from Harry, you fished in your bags for your keys. "Maybe...Maybe you can come inside and I can show you?"

Harry's eyes widened, clearly not anticipating the direction of the conversation. "Are you sure? I know you have to be up early and have a whole routine and everything."

He was too sweet. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to do nothing more than to join you but was respectful enough of your space to walk away. But you knew what you wanted.

"You can be part of my routine," you said. Unlocking the door, you turned to face him. Your hands shook a little, but your voice was clear, if not hushed despite being alone, as you said, "You can help me stretch and relax before bed. Don't you want to help me, daddy?"

It was a bold choice, letting that little vulnerability slip. Very few knew about your...preference for a certain moniker, and you'd never brought it up to partners in the past. But this was Harry, who you liked so much and trusted even more. You wanted to share that side of you, even if it made your cheeks flame to say it before you were safe within the confines of your apartment. but you figured you'd revealed so much already, what was one more thing? At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

And guessing by Harry's reaction, it paid off.

"Yea—Yeah. Course, bunny," he said after swallowing. "How do you normally start?"

You grinned. "I like to take a shower. Or a bath, depending on my mood."

Harry picked you up by your waist, causing you to squeal. His lips didn't leave your neck as he asked, "Which one is big enough for two?"

"I barely fit in my bathtub," you giggled against the vibrations from his voice and the giddiness you felt at being held in Harry's arms.

"Shower it is then," he said, kicking the front door shut behind him and locking it quickly. "I'm gonna need to hear that at least three more times tonight. At least."

You began kissing Harry's neck instead of answering, still a little embarrassed that you'd said it at all. Harry seemed thrilled, and part of you was thrilled that it all worked out in the end, but it would take more coaxing than that before you worked up the confidence to call him "daddy" again.

"Don't be shy, bunny," Harry teased. "I'm proud of you for being so forward. Think my good girl deserves a reward, hm?"

You could only whimper with anticipation as Harry deposited you on the limited surface of your bathroom counter. As he shrugged out of his shirt, then his socks and shoes, then his jeans, revealing his body little by little in all its tattooed glory, you couldn't help but feel as though life couldn't get any better than this.

[strang3lov3]

Troublemaker (Brain Scramblies 2)

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Summary: Joel is bad at feelings and distances himself from you after your concussion, and faces his feelings on patrol with you.

Warnings: Smut smut smut of all varieties, so like oral m and f receiving, PIV. Ya know the drill!!! 18+ MDNI! Joel is bad at feelings. Kind of slow burn, asshole Joel. Very sweet sex! Age gap oops

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: SURPRISE MOTHAFUCKAS!!!! BRAIN SCRAMBLIES 2 AT 10PM ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT!! My bf recently informed me you’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion so my bad guys sorry for giving you all brain damage that's on me ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON BRAIN SCRAMBLIES! Here’s part two for all who asked!! Like brain scramblies, I don't love this but there was an overwhelming demand for part two and I was concerned for y'alls sanity. Also I changed the title again oops.

Read the first story here! It can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading Brain Scramblies first!

Please please please comment and reblog if you enjoy!

Joel ended up falling asleep with you. He woke up early and quietly excused himself from your bed. God, how pretty you looked sound asleep. With your puffy lips and quiet snoring. The way your hair fell across your face. He pushed your hair away from your eyes and left. 

Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

You didn’t mean any of it, any of what happened last night. Joel was a fool for indulging in your concussed words and letting himself believe any of it was real. He placed too much meaning on last night. 

He’d need to work hard to erase the way you made him feel. He needs to forget how he loved taking care of you, how he wants to be the one to make you feel better after a long day or when you’re sick. How he wants to spend all of his time making you smile. He needs to erase all of his love and adoration for you. 

In the morning, Tommy took you to the doctor. Your head was still sore and pounding slightly, but the doctor assured you that with a week’s worth of rest, you’d be back to normal. Honestly, you’d be better in a day or two but it’s best to take it easy for a while longer, just in case. 

You were in the waiting room while the doctor prepared some medicine for you. Some tea to help with the headaches and nausea, and some pain meds. Tommy was sitting right next to you. 

“Feelin’ alright, honey?” he asked you. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Hurting a little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. Your head was still tender, and likely would be for a while. 

“Up for dinner on Friday? As long as you’re feeling okay, of course,”

“Yeah, yeah. Only if Maria is cooking, of course,” you teased him. Tommy wasn’t a great cook, unfortunately. 

Tommy chuckled. “Well, that’s a given. Joel will be there too. You remember him taking you home last night?”

You shook your head. “I thought you and Maria took me home. It was Joel?” Your memories were fuzzier than you realized. 

Tommy’s lips curled in a sly smirk. “Yeah, no. It was Joel. You don’t remember anything you said to him?” You shook your head again. “Well, you were flirtin’ pretty hardcore.”

Your cheeks burned and flushed. “No,” you groaned, burying your face in your palms. 

“Oh, yes. Called him handsome left and right. Never seen him so bashful before. He was pink as a flamingo, honey,” he said. “Course, that was only at the bar. He didn’t tell me if you said anything else about your little crush when he took you home.”

“No, no. You’re lying, Tommy,” you whined. This cannot be fucking happening. What did you do? 

Tommy shook his head. “It’s the truth, I’m afraid,”

You were embarrassed. Actually, you were way past embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated. 

Tommy could see what you were thinking, the excuses you were making up in your head. “Don’t you think about canceling dinner, now. Maria’s making your favorite pot roast, with all those carrots and potatoes,”

Your eyes were pleading with his, his own twinkling with amusement. You opened your mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted. 

“Alright, now. Tea is for the nausea and headaches, it can be a little bitter so I’d suggest adding some honey. These pain meds will help with the throbbing,” he said. He instructed Tommy to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re hanging in there. 

You both thanked the doctor and left the infirmary then. Tommy relented his teasing, seeing as how you were so close to combusting in embarrassment. 

The week passes slowly. It’s boring, so fucking boring. You do puzzles, read your favorite books, work on your blanket you’ve been knitting. Sip your tea. And each day, all you can think about is Joel. What you said to him, what you don’t know you said to him. 

It’s Friday. Tonight’s the night you’ve been dreading all week. As you make your way to Tommy and Maria’s home, you go over your plan in your head. Just be polite, like always. Apologize to Joel and make nice. Then go home, and the next time you’re on patrol with Joel it will all be back to normal. Right?

No. Not right. 

“Hi,” you say to Joel. Tommy’s setting the table, Maria is putting the finishing touches on her meal. 

Joel only grunts in response, never once meeting your eyes. You might as well have said hi to a brick wall or a houseplant. 

“How’s your week been?” 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Your head, uh, feelin’ any better?” He speaks like he’s in pain, like each word stings and aches as it rolls off of his tongue. 

“Yeah. It’s better, mostly. Tommy said you walked me home, and I guess–”

Joel cut you off. “Dinner’s ready,” 

Wow. So it’s like that. 

You sit next to Joel at the table, who never once speaks to you the entire meal, save for a “Pass the potatoes, please,” or “I need the gravy,” here and there. You’d never experienced such an awkward dinner before. And Joel was never your biggest fan, but he had never been so rude and short with you before. You felt it was a little undeserved, given you had no control over the situation last week.

Luckily, Tommy and Maria fill the air with conversation to make up for Joel’s shitty and impersonal attitude. Within a few hours, dinner is over. Tommy begins clearing the table as you and Joel get dressed to leave. You bid all of them goodbye, and then leave. Dinner didn’t go the way you planned, but nothing ever does. At least it was finally over. 

“Walk her home, Joel,” Maria says sternly, watching you through the window. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after icing her out all evening.” “She’s fine. Concussion healed.”

“Don’t care, brother,” Tommy interjects. “Walk her home, or you’re cleaning the stables for the next six months. Go. Think y’all have some stuff to talk about, anyway.”

“This is ridiculous,” Joel mumbles as Tommy and Maria both hug him goodbye. But he does it anyway.

He meets you a little ways away from their home, the crunch of leaves under his footsteps startling you. “Let’s move. I’m walkin’ you home again,” he says. 

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” you reply, surprised. No doubt Tommy and Maria forced him into this. 

Joel says nothing. He’s silent the entire walk home, silent as he leaves you on your porch. 

You’re in disbelief. You were expecting to maybe laugh a bit over the situation last week, but not this. Who knew Joel hated being flirted with so much? He takes quick steps, never once looking back to make sure you make it inside your home okay. 

Fuck it.

“Joel,” you call out. “Come here.”

Joel turns around, eyeing you with a frown. “What do you want now? You’re home.” 

“Come here.” your voice is stern and demanding.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, true to dramatic Joel fashion. When he steps up onto your porch and stands in front of you, he stares at you with a blank expression, his eyes are cold. “What,” he says flatly. No trouble at the end of his sentence, like he usually calls you. It stings.

“What happened last week? When you walked me home, after my concussion.”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ happened,” 

“Are you sure? Because Tommy said I was flirting with you at the bar, and I don’t know if I said something rude or what but I…” you trail off. “I don’t know. I just want to know what happened.”

Joel sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t say anything rude,” 

“Then what? What did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” 

“Then tell me,” 

“I said it doesn’t matter,” 

“It matters to me,”

Joel steps away from you, sitting on one of your chairs. He won’t look at your face. “Fine,” he says gruffly. “You called me handsome.” 

“Tommy told me,” you say quietly, your voice is small. “Listen-”

“About a million times, actually. It’s all you could say for a minute there,” His tone is beginning to soften, but he’s still grumpy and bothered. “Gave me a nickname, too.” “I did?” 

“You did,” 

“What was it?” you step closer to him, taking a seat in the chair next to where he’s sitting.

“Joelie,” he says. “You called me Joelie.” 

“Joelie, huh?” you mumble, half to Joel, half to yourself. “Was that all?”

Joel is looking off into the distance, the cool air is biting at his ears and nose. “No, there was a little more,”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“No, I don’t think so. No reason to,” he pauses for a second, remembering. “I’ve got a fuckin’ bone to pick with you, though.”

“Clearly,” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “What’d I do, other than call you handsome?”

“You fuckin’ pinched me. Again,” he turns to face you. “You have a real problem keepin’ your hands to yourself, you know that?” he scolds you angrily.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. “You probably deserved it! You always do, you’re such a dick,” 

Joel scoffs, it’s almost a chuckle. “Maybe. I wasn’t actin’ like a dick that night, though. Not enough to warrant you pinchin’ me,”

You’re puzzled. Why else would you pinch Joel, if not as a punishment for acting like an asshole? “Then why did I pinch you?”

Joel turns red then. Like, really blushes. His ears and cheeks are bright and rosy. He’s flamingo pink, just like Tommy said. 

“Why, Joel?”

“You said I have an ass like a uh…a peach,” he whispers. “And then you–”

It’s your turn to blush now. “No,” you interrupt. “I didn’t. Joel, tell me I didn’t pinch your ass.”

He nods, silently. 

“I am so fucking sorry, Joel,” you apologize frantically. You were a fucking menace!! “Please. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s fine, trouble. Was kinda cute, actually. You said I have eyes like coffee beans too. Never heard that one before,”

Trouble. 

“And that’s all?”

“You said you’ve got this great, big, humongous, gigantic crush on me,” he says through a sigh, his tone is defeated. Sarcastic, even. “That was really it, though.”

He doesn’t mention all the times you asked him to fuck you. He’s not a sadist, you’re embarrassed enough already. In fact, you’re so embarrassed and in your own head that you don’t even pick up on the sadness in his voice. 

You open your mouth to apologize, to explain. Joel speaks first. 

“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean any of it,”

And then he sits up, making his way to step down off of your porch. He turns to you one more time before leaving, you can’t place his expression. He looks almost sullen, almost heartbroken. 

“Goodnight, trouble.” 

He leaves. Once again, you weaseled your way too close to his heart.

And that’s the last you really speak to Joel.

You’re not on patrol with Joel very often, but he’s even quieter when you are paired up. Not in the rude kind of way like at dinner, but in a sheepish sort of way. Like he’s embarrassed, or sad, or feels nervous to speak to you. The confident, cocky Joel is long gone. He rejects all of your attempts at conversation, and it leaves you heartbroken and baffled. 

If only he knew how you felt about him. If only he’d let you speak. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a chilly and rainy fall day, you and Joel are holed up in an old home on patrol together. It’s been maybe a month, a month and a half since that night on your porch.

He’s not really speaking to you, except to give you instructions here and there. You’re getting sick of his attitude. So standoffish and cold.

You wonder what went wrong that night. He was never all that friendly with you, but he was never like this. He looked right past you, like you were a phantom. Not really there.

You’re knitting your blanket, sitting on a window seat. The rain is pitter pattering against the glass. Joel is stoking the flames in the fireplace. The only sounds are the clicks of your knitting needles and the crackle of the fire. There’s a tupperware of snickerdoodles you brought for him, sitting untouched. It was your olive branch. He didn’t even thank you for them.

“What do you think of my blanket?” You hold the blanket up for him, various shades of green yarn arranged in a rippling pattern. 

Joel takes a quick glance, barely even looking, then grumbles something. 

“Joel? I didn’t hear you,”

“I said it’s fine,” he snaps at you.

You sigh, knitting your blanket furiously. What a fucking dick. “You know what? You don’t have to be such a fucking asshole all the time, you know that?”

“Fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“I said that you don’t have to be an asshole all the time,” you spit.

“I’m not–”

“You are. And I don’t even know why!” you laugh wryly. “All you do is fucking ignore me. And I don’t get it, Joel. I don’t know why I even try with you.”

Joel tries to speak, but you don’t let him. 

“I get it, okay? I made you uncomfortable when I called you handsome and pinched your ass and everything that night. I’m sorry,”

Joel is still stoking the fire, giving you no attention.

“I’m serious. I had a fucking brain injury, I had no control over my actions or my words. And I’m sorry,”

Joel’s not listening to your words. He’s so in his own head, he’s not absorbing any of it. All he hears you say is “I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t feel anything towards you,” Rub it in some more, why don’t you? I’m not in love with you and I don’t think you have nice eyes like I said.

“I do have a little crush on you, okay? You do have nice eyes and a nice nose, and you’re the most handsome man I’ve met in my life. But it doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” you snapped. “I know it made you uncomfortable because I’m too young for you or whatever, so I want you to know I am sorry. Genuinely. Can you please drop the dickhead act now?”

Joel freezes, thrown off.

“Joel,” you demand. 

“Say that again,” he says. He’s looking at you finally.

“I’m sorry,” 

“No, not that,” he waves his hand. “About my nose.”

“I like your nose,”

Joel never liked his nose. But you do. The strong shape, the freckles and scars. It fits him perfectly. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Why else would I say it?” you say bitterly. God, he is so far up his own ass you wonder if he even knows what the sun looks like.

“Why?” he asks you, a smile is threatening to curl his lips upward. 

“The shape, I don’t know. Your freckles,” you say through a sigh. “That’s what you’re getting from this? Can you please just let me apologize for harassing you?”

“No,” he responds. “Tell me more. About my eyes, again.” Joel stands up now, looking at you from a few feet away.

You shake your head. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough for him? “Why? Thought I told you they look like coffee beans,”

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low, stepping toward you now. Your heartbeat picks up its pace as he considers his next move. He sits next to you at the window seat. He’s so in love, melting into a puddle before you. God, the way you’ve ruined him.  

“You have nice eyes. Dark and deep. I like the way they shine amber in the sun,” you whisper. You can’t help the growing smile on your face, the same smile when you’re alone and thinking of Joel’s handsome face. “Happy now, asshole?”

There’s a silent moment between you both after you speak, Joel’s looking at you in a way he never has before. The butterflies in your tummy flutter a little faster now, his eyes darting back and forth between your own and your lips. 

“Joel,” you sigh, “Quit looking at me like that.” Your words are more desperate than you intend them to be. You wanted to sound more stern, like him. 

He doesn’t say anything as he carefully places his hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. Your eyes flutter shut. 

He takes the opportunity to pull you close, his lips just millimeters away from yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I wasn’t bein’ fair to ya. You said all those things to me when you weren’t in your right mind,” he trails off, bowing his head. “I’m no good at this.”

“Try me,” you whisper back, your eyes still closed. 

“I don’t know, trouble,”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. They’re big and full of adoration and insecurity, a brutal combination. “Thought it wasn’t real?”

Joel can only nod. The man who always has something to say, suddenly choking on his words. His hand is still on your cheek, holding you steady. 

You want to kiss him, so badly. You want to kiss him with every fiber in your being. But you fight it. He’s going to be the one to kiss you, it’s going to be how you always pictured it. This, you’re certain of. 

Joel’s eyes are frantic and unsure. 

It feels like minutes. 

Hours. 

Days. 

An eternity before he finally does it. And then finally, he kisses you, slowly and gently. It takes you by surprise, sweeps you off your feet. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, he tastes so distinctly Joel. You sigh and moan against his lips as his tongue mingles with your own, you curse yourself for the desperation you exhibit. As if he cares. 

You kiss like that for a while, softly. His gentle and loving kisses are a stark contrast to his gruff and domineering personality on patrol. He’s dissolving under your lips, feeling love he’s not felt in a very long time. Everything he can’t say with his voice he says with his kisses. 

You break the kiss, trailing your lips down his jaw, the scratchy hairs of his beard feel amazing on your skin. You kiss down his neck, something you’ve fantasized about thousands of times. 

“Wait,” he rasps out. 

You pull away, noticing the tent in his jeans. “Want me to stop?”

“Yes,” he breathes. Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts slightly. “No. Not like that. I just, I want to do this right. Treat you right.”

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you speak into his neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle as you continue kissing his skin, trailing back up his thick neck and nibbling at his ear. He’s panting and moaning beneath you, you never expected he’d fall apart like this. “You know,” he starts, “You told me you wanted me to fuck you when you had your concussion.” Your face grows red and you stop kissing him for a second. “Did not,”

“Did too,”

You ignore him and pretend like he didn’t just tell you that. You kiss his skin, it’s hot and slightly salty. You feel his pulse under your lips and then, you pull away. 

His brows furrow as you smile. He’s so fucking cute like this, way cuter than any fifty-something man should be. “Your turn. Tell me what you think of me, then we can continue,” 

Joel’s confidence is back and fully fledged now, it’s a welcome return. “I think you’re nothin’ but trouble. Honestly and truly,” 

“Yeah?”

“S’right. Makin’ me fat with your damn cookies. Makin’ me crazy with all your pinches. And you’ve got me fallin’ in love now. You’re a goddamn troublemaker, and I’ve known it since the day I met you,” 

It’s everything you ever wanted to hear Joel say. He’s falling for you.

He continues, “And when we get back, I get a redo. Doin’ this the right way with you, baby. Gonna make you dinner and all that. Like a gentleman,”

“You better,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your hands find their way to his jeans, fumbling with his belt. His cock grows harder beneath you, he swats your hands away and helps you free it, his member springing up between you both. 

You kneel in front of him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. You lick a long stripe from the bottom all the way to the top of his dick, swirling your tongue around the blushed tip. “Troublemaker,” he sighs. “Don’t tease me now, sweetheart. Please, baby.” His eyes are screwed shut, face contorted in pleasure.

You love the way he calls you baby. And troublemaker. And sweetheart. You’ll be his baby and his sweetheart and his troublemaker for the rest of your life. 

You take him into your mouth, tongue paining his cock with swirls of saliva. His cock parts your lips, you love the smoothness of his skin. He tastes like skin and slightly salty, you hum against him as he bucks into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,”

You bob your head up and down, making a sloppy mess of saliva all over his lap. He pulls you off, suddenly. 

“My turn,” is all he grumbles when he picks you up and drags you to the couch in front of the fireplace. He makes short work of discarding your clothes, unbuttoning your jeans and your jacket and shirt. You’re naked in front of him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. You cover your breasts and bring your knees to your chest.

He notices and promptly begins removing his own clothing. “I know, I know,” he soothes you. “Evening out the playing field and all. Don’t hide from me now, I’m gonna make it right. You’re fucking beautiful, baby.” 

He’s naked now, kneeling in front of you and spreading your thighs apart. Your pussy is wet and glistening for him, you feel his hot breath on your center. He looks at you with wide eyes, his silent way of asking permission. You answer him clearly by carding your fingertips through his scalp, tugging on his head to where you need him most. You thrust your hips towards him, begging him with your body. 

“Eager, are we?” he mumbles. “Been dreamin’ of eatin this pussy, baby.” 

“Please,” you beg him. 

“Since you asked so nicely, trouble,” 

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t spend any time kissing and biting your thighs. He dives right in, his tongue exploring your most intimate parts. It trails up your lips, through your folds. His tongue dips in your wet hole, tasting your slick. You jolt and gasp his name at the feeling. Your thighs clamp around his head, his scratchy beard is abrasive against your flesh. You welcome the feeling. 

He parts your thighs again then, a little rougher than the first time. His tongue slides through your wetness once more, then finds home at your clit, swollen and needy. He flicks upward, alternating between long and languid licks and short and quick kitten licks. One of his hands meet your center, his middle two fingers enter your pussy and punch upward until he finds the spot that makes you tick. He hasn’t touched a woman in a long time, but still remembers all the best ways to make her see stars. 

“Fuck, like that,” you gasp out. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Joel says nothing as he eats your pussy, sucking and licking at your center. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his tongue, your slickness making a mess of his face. Your moans are breathy and quick, he savors each one. His eyes are wide and dark with lust.

Barely recovered from your high, you grasp and paw at his shoulders, encouraging him to come up and meet you for another kiss. You taste yourself on his lips.

“Need you now, Joelie,” you breathe, breaking the kiss. 

His nickname still sounds just as sweet as the first time you whispered it, all those nights ago. 

“‘Course, trouble. I’ve got you.” he says against your skin, his tongue darting out to play with your nipples. He’s dragging the tip of his cock through your folds. “How do you want me?”

“Just like this, please. Just fuck me,”

Your wish is his command. He slides the tip into you slowly at first, making sure it’s not too much. It’s not, of course

He pushes into you all the way, you sigh in pleasure at the fullness. He fits inside you perfectly, like he was made for you. His tip presses at that sweet spot inside you with each thrust, almost effortlessly. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans. 

“Yeah, Joelie. Just like that, baby. Don’t stop,” 

He fucks you like that, not too hard and not too soft. A deliciously and devastatingly pleasant pace, with such care and love. 

And then the lightbulb goes off in your head. His butt!! 

How you wish you remembered pinching his ass that night. 

“Joel?” your voice is clear, not moaning or breathy. 

He stills inside you, taking heaving breaths on top of you, like it’s taking everything he’s got not to keep going. He looks at you with concern, afraid that he might have hurt you. “Everything okay? What do you need?” 

“Can I squeeze your butt?” 

Joel says nothing, just looks at you with a puzzled expression. He furrows his brows and squints at you before rolling his eyes.

Hey, at least you’re asking permission this time. 

“Please?”

“Yeah, dummy. It’s all yours, now. Don’t wear it out,” he grumbles, but you hear the playfulness in his tone. 

You giggle, reaching down to grasp a handful of his ass. It’s round, plump and fleshy. You dig your nails in slightly, pinching him a little. He winces slightly, shaking his head at your mischievous expression. Your eyes are bright and silly with your bottom lip pinned under your teeth in a grin.

“Hey now, trouble” he scolds you with a smile. “Behave.”

He kisses you, continuing his motions. His thrusts are so fluid and confident, you’re getting closer now, so is he. 

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “Can’t hold off much longer. What do you need?”

You pull one of his hands from above your head and place it at your center. “Circles, please,” 

He adjusts his grip on the arm of the couch and moves his fingers to your clit, slick with your wetness and his spit from before. “You got it,”

His thrusts become sloppier, he’s letting out strangled gasps and groans. You’re moaning, crying his name as your orgasm begins to bloom inside of you. It’s intense and hot, it feels like sparks through your blood. 

“Joel, Joel,” is all you can say. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Fuck, Joelie.”

“I know, I know. I’m right there. Hang on for me baby, doin’ so good,” 

With a few more shuttering thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, painting your insides with his hot come. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and he slumps on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, you don’t mind. You’ve been dreaming of his body pinning your own down for ages. 

You stay like that, just catching your breath together. He kisses your neck as your fingertips trail up and down his back. “I love you so much, Joel,” you whisper. “I really do.”

“Love you too, sweet girl,” he says softly. You love the way his voice sounds here, soft and gentle. All for you and no one else. 

He pulls out of you then, you whine at the loss. He lunges off the couch to reach for the tupperware container of snickerdoodles you baked for him.  

He pulls off the lid, grabbing a handful of cookies and shoving one in his mouth. Apparently Joel was still a typical man, snacking after sex. 

You giggle, grab a cookie of your own and kiss his cheek. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close to watch the flames in the fireplace dance. 

“God, you’re evil,” he says, his voice muffled by the cookies in his mouth. “Force feedin’ me cookies and makin’ me fat.”

“Busted. You got me,” you say, smiling. “Gotta keep your ass nice and squeezable, hm? It was my devious plan all along. You figured it out, Sherlock.”

“Shut up. Fuckin’ troublemaker,”

tags:

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @@spideysimpossiblegirl

(if you don't see your @, i got rid of the ones tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Leave me a comment if you'd like to be on the taglist!)

[reiderwriter]

♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️

Chapter 8 of That's What You Get

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Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!

You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.

“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.

“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.

“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.

“I married Reid in Vegas.”

“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.

“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.

“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”

“You were never a scout.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”

“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.

“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.

“Oh god…”

“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.

“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.

“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”

“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”

“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.

“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.

“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.

“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.

“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.

“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.

“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.

“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”

“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”

“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.

“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”

“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.

“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”

“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.

“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”

“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.

“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.

“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.

“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.

“It’s bad, right?”

“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.

“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.

–X–

Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?

You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.

“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.

Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.

You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.

He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.

“It’s about yesterday-”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.

“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.

“You did?”

“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.

“Oh. Those memories.”

“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.

“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.

Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.

–X–

Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.

Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.

He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.

But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.

“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.

“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.

“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.

“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”

Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.

“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.

You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.

You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.

“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”

Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.

–X–

To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.

He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.

The ball was firmly in your court.

“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.

“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”

“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.

“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”

“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”

“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.

“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”

“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”

“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.

“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.

“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love pt. 5 💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. Fem! reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing, little angst, little fluff, SMUTT!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Hello everyone! Forgive me for taking so long to write this part. It's been quite busy since coming back from Elvis week and for whatever reason, I could not write anything spicy to save my life. I felt it was so bland and missing something! Then it finally hit me of what this needed heh.😏 I hope this was worth the wait! I'm happy with how this part turned out 🤭

*

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your brain would not shut off and all you could do was think of those damn hands touching you in all the right places. It felt even worse that John was inches away from you fast asleep. You decide to get up and read in the living room to see if that’ll make you go to sleep faster. You needed the space. Sleeping next to someone tonight just felt wrong. 

You turn on the small lamp next to the sofa and pick up something off of your bookshelf. You read the first few pages but you find yourself thinking about Elvis. About his eyes. About his hands. About how good he made you feel without you saying what you wanted. You were upset at yourself for thinking such things. You should have walked out once you found out Dianne wasn’t there. But you didn’t. You stayed and let Elvis take care of every last desire you had last night. 

You grunt frustrated and slam your book closed. You slump into the couch and try to get him off your mind. You must have laid there for hours and nothing was working. Those damn hands were taunting you even when they weren’t touching you. Your eyes finally feel heavy and you doze off to sleep. 

*

You woke up a bit jolted, not knowing what time it was. It was only eleven o’clock and you didn’t work til later in the afternoon so that made you relieved. John walks into the room dressed for the day and looks surprised you’re out here on the couch. 

“What are you doing out here?” He asks surprised.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I didn’t want to bother you so I came out here to read,” you explain. 

“Mmm, okay. I’m about to head to work. Do you work tonight?” He asks. 

“Not til four,” you tell him. 

“Okay see you,” he says as he goes for the front door. He quickly stops and pats his pockets. “Shit where’s my keys,” he mumbles to himself.  He goes back to the bedroom to search for them. 

The shrill sound of the phone ringing makes you jump off the sofa and run to the kitchen to answer it. 

“I got it!” You yell out. 

You quickly grab the blue phone off the wall and bring it to your ear. 

“Hello?” You say very chippy. 

“Hi, baby. Just the voice I wanted to hear,” he purred. 

Elvis. 

You feel yourself crumble a bit hearing that smooth, tenor voice ring into your ear. He sounded like pure, smooth honey and was intoxicating your veins just getting to hear his voice again.

Baby? God, it was so sweet and endearing. You liked how it sounded coming from his mouth. You actually liked it way too much. Especially when he grumbled it low in your ear as his cock was buried inside of you…

You try to snap yourself out of the delusional memory and clear your throat. 

“What do you want Elvis?” You say low, just in case John comes in. 

He chuckles slightly, “damn, I can’t just call you to see how you are?” He asks coyly. 

You snap, “You didn’t for the last eleven years so I don’t understand why you would start now,” you scowl. There was a long pause on the other side of the telephone. You knew you got under his skin. You honestly didn’t care your words were borderline mean. It was the truth and it still hurt you. Even after everything you two did yesterday, it didn’t make up for the pain of losing a friend after all these years. 

The silence continued and he still didn’t say anything. You feared he might have hung up. 

“Elvis?” You whisper. 

“I want you to come over.” He says. His tone made your hair stand up. This wasn’t a question, it was a command. 

“What?” You hiss. 

“I want you here, now,” he sneered. 

“No,” you snap back, “I’m not going over when John is there,” you explain. It was all too risky. You didn’t trust Elvis to be subtle about anything. 

“I won’t ask again honey. I need you over here,” he says and the sound of the receiver clicks. 

You hotly hang up the phone and put your hands on your hips. This man made you extremely frustrated. Who does he think he is? Ordering you around like you’re just some kid. He had never spoken to you like this. 

But damn it curiosity was getting the best of you. What the hell did he want! What could he possibly want from you? You already told him you were not doing anything… salacious with him. It was the heat of the moment and you swore it would not happen. You were just there twelve hours ago. You were not going to let him have his way again. 

You quickly put a dress on and fix up your hair. 

“John don’t leave, I’m coming with you,” you yell out, hoping he hasn’t left yet. You put on some mascara and lipstick and rush out to the living room. John gives you a confused look. 

“Why do you want to go to Elvis’?” He asks confused. 

Your brain scrambles for a logical explanation. Nothing seemed like a good enough reason and you panic. 

Because he told me to come over and I can’t say no to him. 

“Well umm… that was his housekeeper that called. I forgot my pie plate and she also wanted me to write down my recipe so she could make it for Elvis whenever he wanted,” you say nonchalantly. The lie you constructed seemed good enough. John shrugs his shoulders not really caring for the story but doesn’t protest. 

“Oh okay whatever, let’s go,” he says as he goes to the front door. You sigh a breath of relief that he bought the story and you wouldn’t have to elaborate anymore. You quickly rush to the passenger side and get in, zooming down Sunset Boulevard, not knowing what state you’ll find Elvis in. Is he going to be really upset by your brazen behavior? No, you had to stay firm in your feelings. You can’t just forgive him like that. He can’t just waltz into your life again after all these years and try to act like nothing happened. 

With your wandering thoughts clouding your judgment, you realize you both were about to pull into the rod iron gates of Hillcrest house, seeing Elvis standing out in the driveway with a cigar in his mouth. His expression was blank and unwavering. He wore a dark green shirt and black slacks, with a colorful scarf that hung around his neck. A few strands of hair fell down on his forehead and gave him this dark, brooding look. You take a deep breath and pray this visit won’t be long. 

You try your best to act like nothing is bothering you. That this is going to be a brief visit and what you two did last night will not be even thought about while being under his roof. You nonchalantly walk past Elvis and give the most gracious and polite greeting. 

“Hi Elvis, nice to see you,” you say shortly, giving him a weak hug and walk into the house like it’s your own. He didn’t even hug you back. 

You walk into the cool air-conditioned house and don’t exactly know where to go. You didn’t want to be right in the middle of the entryway if Elvis decided to walk in right after you. You decided to go to the kitchen and actually act like you were getting the pie plate you forgot. 

The kitchen was clean and well-organized. There was lots of natural light that poured into the room and the smell of something in the oven made your mouth water. On the back counter, you do see your cleaned pie plate sitting there. The housekeeper walked into the kitchen and was surprised you were in there.

“Hi y/n what a nice surprise, I wasn’t expecting you to stop by,” she says sweetly. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just stopped by to say hi to Elvis and get my pie plate from last night,” you explain. 

“Oh not a problem dear, I cleaned it for you,” she says as she goes to pick it up from the counter and hands it to you. “You’ll have to give me the recipe, Elvis was going on and on about how great it is to all of the guys. It was gone by the morning,” she laughs.

Your lie somehow got construed into reality and you don’t exactly know what to say but your nervous energy gets the best of you and you laugh too.

“Oh yes of course! Did you know it’s always been his favorite? I used to make it all the time when I’d visit Graceland. Any party he’d throw, I knew I needed to bake something or he’d pout about it if I didn't,” you giggle. That memory does make you genuinely happy. Those were such good times and wish you could go back and relive them.

“I don’t doubt it, honey. That sounds just like Elvis,” she says gleefully, “Let me grab you a pen and paper. Did you enjoy dinner last night?” 

You pause and have to nervously look always from her. You nod your head at her and try to put on your best smile. 

“Oh yes, it was absolutely delicious! You really outdid yourself,” you try to say even though you didn’t have a bite of it last night. 

It ended up on the floor along with your clothes. 

“I’m sorry about the little accident, we were clumsy and the plate fell,” you try to explain. She flashes you a confused look. 

“What accident? There was nothing out of place this morning when I got here,” she tells you. 

Elvis must have cleaned up the mess he made after you left which left you shocked honestly. Elvis always had someone helping him out with any sort of task. Even years ago, he always had a small group of guys that would go out with him anywhere he went. You see by the size of his entourage now that same principle applies. Even at Graceland, he always had two housekeepers working for him that would do anything he asked. They’d make any meal for him and clean up after him too. It really did shock you she didn’t walk in this morning to find the shattered plates and wasted dinner on the marble floor like when you left. 

“Yeah… umm, Elvis accidentally broke a dish but he must have cleaned it up after I left,” you say a bit timidly. 

“He broke one of the plates? Agh that boy really needs to be more careful! He’s always breakin’ stuff. But I’m glad you enjoyed the meal. It’s one of my favorites to make. I can give you the recipe if you’d like?”

She stops suddenly and looks past your shoulder, wearing a smile on her face, “Oh, hi Elvis we were just talking about you. Is there anything I can get you?” She asks sweetly.

You turn around quickly and hold your breath when you look at him. He was standing closer to you than you were expecting and of course, he was looking criminally good. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore but you still find yourself looking at him in awe. He has a cute smile on his face, the same one he’d give you when he saw you walk in the front door of Graceland. 

“No that’s alright dear thank you. I just wanted to talk to y/n privately if you don’t mind,” he says charmingly.

“Oh of course dear. I’ll be around if you need anything,” she says courtly and walks out of the kitchen quickly.

Now you two were alone again and the tension between you two could be cut with a knife. The way he looks at you… God, those eyes are scorching, blazing with an intense heat. He was like a vortex you couldn’t escape. Why would you? The way his eyes melt into your body and make you feel uncomfortably warm just being in his presence. You watch as his eyes drink you in. Like you’re his favorite drink on this warm June day and he can’t get enough of you. You’re coming to learn that you feel incredibly insecure when he does this. How his eyes are undressing you in plain sight and how he lingers on certain parts of you. You cross your arms against your body so he can get the message you don’t appreciate his rude stares.

“What did you want?” You ask more gently than you did when you asked him on the phone earlier.

He takes a few steps closer to you, not breaking his heated gaze. You back up slightly and huff when you feel your backside hit the counter. You had nowhere else to go and Elvis keeps walking closer to you. He puts his hands on your hips and slowly pulls you into his body. You both sigh and you look up into those big, pleading blue eyes of his.

“I missed you,” he murmurs holding you. He leans down and places a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. You take in a sharp breath when you feel his soft lips touch your skin. You try to hold back the pleased sigh you want to make. He felt too good pressed against you and he knew it.

You push at his chest slightly to get him to look at you.

“No you didn’t,” you mumble. He stares darkly at you, not liking your response.

“Why would I say it then,” he growls. Your heart gallops by his tone and the look he’s giving you. 

“I don’t know. We’ve only spent a few hours together, I doubt it was life changing for you…” You look away quickly, not wanting to see his reaction to that, “I don’t really know you anymore Elvis, have you forgotten that?” You say weakly. You slowly push at his chest more so he gives you space. He obliges and frustratedly ruffles his hand through his hair.

“Shit,” he grumbles to himself as he turns away from you momentarily. You nervously watch him pace the kitchen like a caged tiger, sighing and cursing under his breath. His energy made you feel on edge and you’re not sure if you should leave or if that’s going to make him more upset.

He stops and turns back to you, his eyes serious and dark.

“You regret it, don’t you?” He says shortly. You look at him stunned, you feel the air get sucked out of you.

“No, of course not,” you tell him.

“No, don’t lie. Just tell me. Do you not trust me? What is it,” he snaps a little too loudly for your liking.

“Keep your voice down,” you snarl, “I’m telling you the truth Elvis. I don’t regret anything. You just can’t act like everything is fine between us all because we had-,” you stop yourself quickly before saying it out loud. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the last twenty-four hours. None of this seemed real. His eyes were hurt when they looked at you. He didn’t like how you were dismissing most of the moments you had together so far.

He walks back towards you, trying to recollect himself before speaking.

“What can I do then? What can I do to make you realize my words are genuine?” He asks, bringing his hand to your cheek and softly caressing it. You couldn’t denounce how nice it felt to have him touch you so tenderly. You look up into his hurt eyes and see how he’s waiting on bated breath for an answer from you.

You place your hand over his and gently pull it down from your face.

“By starting to treat me like a friend again. I told you, I’ve missed my friend for so long,” you admit, holding his hand in yours.

He sighs, fluttering his eyes and shaking his head slightly.

“Honey, I’m sorry but that’s really hard for me,” he declares.

“It might take some time, yes, but I think it could be nice. We can start over and catch up. I know there’s been so much you’ve been up to and-,” You start to ramble but he cuts you short.

“No, honey, I don’t think you understand me. I don’t think I can just be your friend anymore I-… I want something more from you,” he insinuates as he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand. Another spark rushes through you as you feel him touch you.

“Jesus Elvis,” you sigh, “No, we can’t. Have you forgotten I’m married to someone,” you say a bit defeatedly.

“No I haven’t, but you’re not happy. Just the way you said that sounded like it’s a burden,” he says bluntly.

You freeze and realize he’s right. You think you’ve felt like this for a while but have buried it deep down inside you. You’ve been so focused on just getting by and not realizing that the foundations of the house you made with that man, the one you made vows to, have detrimentally cracked. 

“Elvis please, don’t make this harder than it actually has to be,” you sigh. 

He pulls you into his arms again, trying to comfort you in any way he can.

“Let me make it easy then. I want you to trust me. I want you to come to me and tell me about anything you need. I don’t want this to be difficult at all. I really think we need to be in each other’s lives at his point in time,” he tries to reason. 

Maybe he is right. Maybe it all comes down to timing. Back in ‘58, it wasn’t the time to be as close as you were so he got shipped off to the army. And even when he came back, it wasn’t time to rekindle your friendship right away. What if it all leads to this moment, in this kitchen, in this house, with him holding you in his arms? Your stomach twists nervously, you didn’t like being out in the open where anyone could walk in seeing you two embraced in each other’s arms.

“Can we talk somewhere more private? I don’t want anyone hearing this conversation or walking by,” you say quietly. He quickly nods his head and motions you to follow him through the house. You prayed he wasn’t going to take you to the bedroom as that would be all too telling what you two might be doing in there. You pull at his arm when you two reach the doorway of his room.

“No please, not in there,” you say worriedly.

“It’s fine honey. No one bothers me in here,” he tells you. You check behind you to make sure no wandering eyes can see you and quickly get in the room with him.

You hold your breath as you take in the space once again. Only one drape was open today and let the golden California sunshine gleam in. You glance at the well-made bed and can’t help but relive some of those moments you two shared there. You sit on the corner of the bed, hunched in stature, not sure where you should start this conversation. 

“I do trust you, you know that right? Even though you’ve changed throughout the years, I know that my old friend is still in there somewhere,” you say pointing at the vicinity of his chest. He smiles because of this and nods his head.

“I’m sorry, but I’m here now. Anything you need, I’ll give it to you,” he says as he takes a seat beside you.

“I don’t need anything from you Elvis I-,” your voice cracking as you feel emotions hit you like a train. “You’re right I-, I haven’t been happy. It's been quite some time since I’ve been truly happy. I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore, you know?” You say as tears start rolling down your cheeks. He gently wipes them away and wraps you in his arms again.

“I do, I understand honey. I’m sorry you’ve been going through that,” he says tenderly.

“It’s not your fault, you don’t need to be sorry,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his body. “It’s just been so hard. We’re barely getting by and my acting dreams are in ruin. He doesn’t care about my feelings or what I want in life anymore. He doesn’t care about the career I want. He is just so bitter towards me. I can’t even remember the last time I was truly content with my life. I hate it all. I hate who I’m becoming... It’s like I’ve lost a piece of myself you know” you sniffle, looking hopelessly into his eyes.

He pauses deep in thought, “yes honey, believe me, I know exactly how that feels,” he says timidly.

He lets you cry, no words being said was the right thing to do. He runs his hand through your hair, soothing you without even trying. He makes you feel at peace. Just the very presence of him has you happier than you’ve been in ages.

“Was I able to take your worries away, even for a short time?” He asks innocently. You lift your head off of his shoulder and look into those intoxicating blues.

“Yes, you did,” you tell him.

“If that’s what you need me to be, then I have no problem with that. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. If you need to cry, I’ll be here to comfort you. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll listen,” he explains as he slowly slides his hand to the back of your neck, keeping you looking at him. “If you need me to show you physically, how incredibly beautiful you are… I can do that too,” he coos. 

Your heart skips in your chest, unable to take what he’s saying. In comparison to him, you did not feel beautiful or worthy of being showered with his praise.  

You sigh, “you know that last part can’t happen,” you say weakly. 

“Baby,” he sighs, caressing you in his arms, and placing soft kisses on your forehead. “Last night was… one of the best nights of my life. It’s something I’ll never forget. I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” he says softly. 

That just about knocked the wind out of you. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you had thoughts about over the years what it would be like to be with Elvis. In some weird way, he knew you had. Especially after he left for the army. Those memories of the night you shared were etched into your brain forever. You’d lay there late at night, remembering how much you wanted him here in your bed, caressing your body and taking care of every last need you had. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you mumble looking down at your shaking hands. You couldn’t handle being this close to him. 

“Please forgive me for how I’ve acted. I should have taken care of you that night. I should have been here, treating you better,” he says, grazing your arm with the softest touch. 

You look back at him and can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. It was everything you had been waiting for him to say to you. It felt like some weird dream but he was very much real and telling you just what you needed. 

“It’s okay…” you mumble, looking at his lips. 

“I-, honey I want to take care of you,” he whispers. 

You shake your head, “I don’t deserve that honey,” you try to reason. 

“Yes, you do. Let me show you how much I want you. I want you here with me. I couldn’t sleep all last night,” he grumbles, placing his hand on the inside of your thigh. You jump slightly at his touch. It was so alluring and you had to fight to move it higher. 

“I know, I couldn’t sleep either. I was up late thinking about you,” you whimper. 

He squeezes your thigh, liking to hear that you were thinking the same things last night. He grumbles softly to himself when you place your hand on his leg too. 

“What were you thinkin’ about honey?” He asks gently. 

“Just not believing what had happened. That it was real,” you say blushing. 

“I know, I was in a bit of shock once you left,” he says jokingly. He scoots back on the bed with the pillows against his back. He reaches out his hand for you. “Come here baby,” he pleads. 

It took everything in you to fight the want to sit next to him on his bed. This would be the perfect opportunity to leave. Keep it on good terms and keep your clothes on. But he always knows how to pull you in and get his way. 

You go to him and crawl back on the bed where he’s sitting. Before you have the chance to sit next to him, he quickly lifts you up and sits you on his lap. You look at him stunned, not able to move from his very shocking behavior. 

“I just want you close baby,” he says coyly. “What else were you thinkin’ about that was keepin’ you up so late,” he says low, his hand firmly around your waist. His hands felt like quicksand. Every touch and caress made you weaker and melt into his lap.

“I was thinking how much I liked your lips on mine,” you tell him, rubbing his soft lips with your index finger. “And how I loved it when they gave me the most satisfaction I've felt in years,” you sigh. His eyes light up when he hears this, you absent-mindedly twirl the scarf around his neck with your other hand, feeling how soft it is. 

“Mmm, good baby.” He grumbles as he pulls you in for a kiss. There was no hesitation from you, your lips eagerly met his and you two clashed like wildfire. His heat consumed yours and you both ached for more from each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. 

He makes small groans as he kisses you more while his hands freely roam your body. You knew you said to yourself you’d try to denounce him, that you swore you wouldn’t find yourself in this situation again, but damn it you loved being in his arms. You pull at his scarf and take it off of him, tossing it to the floor. You sneak your hand into his shirt and feel his soft skin. He sighs and stops kissing you briefly.

“Was I right the other day?” He asks with a serious tone.

“Right about what?” You say a little confused and dazed.

“That you still think about my hands when you’re alone? When you’re touching yourself,” he says slyly, his hand snaking up your calf. You take a sharp breath in as you feel his fingers creep higher under your dress and rest on the inside of your thigh. You make a frustrated groan and bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide the way your cheeks are flushed from the filthy thoughts you’ve had over the years. His fingers creep higher until they find your lace panties, resting his hand there. You squeeze at his arm, fighting the way your hips want to lean into his touch.

You feel your heart beat loudly in your chest and don’t know what to say to him. You just can’t tell him some of the things that have crossed your mind. He’s patient, coaxing the answers out of you as his fingers start to gently circle your clit. Wetness pools in your panties and you’re dying for him to be inside of you.

“Tell me, baby, I wanna know,” he murmurs.

You kiss his neck and grumble frustratedly. You look back up at him and see his pleading eyes look back into yours.

“Yes you were right,” you huff, placing a kiss on his cheek and hiding your face in his neck once again. His fingers continued to tease while his other hand helped spread your legs apart. He lifts your face to look back up at him and he has the most pleased look. 

“I know. I know because I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you,” he says as you gasp from the friction he’s giving you.

“God those hands kill me…” you grumble. He hums softly and continues to tease.

You grasp onto his shirt and tear at it frustratedly. You couldn’t handle how much you needed him. His fingers pull your panties to the side and discovers how wet you’ve become and he groans. 

“God baby you need me don’t you?” He asks, his voice low and gruff. All you can do is whimper and rock your hips into his fingers. 

“Yes, I want you so bad. Just like that night,” you whimper. 

“You wanted to ride me, didn’t you?” He asks mischievously. You suck in a sharp breath, not expecting him to ask something like that. But of course, he was right. That’s exactly what you wanted that night. You didn’t want him to stop you from taking off his pants and let you fuck him til the sun came up. You had zero sexual experience then but you were so confident that you could give both of you the pleasure you needed. The alcohol really made you more confident than you should have been.

“Yes, I did. I wanted you to make me feel good but you stopped me,” you say with a hint of whininess in your voice. 

He chuckles amused at your behavior, “I know baby. I’m here,” he says as his fingers tease your entrance. “Come and ride me now,” he groans. 

You grunt frustrated, you can’t take any more of this and need him. You pull at his shirt and unbutton it. You kiss and nip at his neck, leaving lipstick marks up and down it, creating a pleased grumble to form in his chest. The aching need he has created in you won’t go away without his help.

Your core continues to weep with every motion of his long fingers. You groan helplessly as your hand moves lower and gently rubs his hard cock. He groans silently and pulls you in for a kiss. 

“Yes baby, just like that. Please I want you,” he says as he takes his hand out of your panties and finds the zipper to your dress. He slowly unzips it and you get off the bed to take it off of you. His gaze didn’t look away from you. Your heart hammered away as you were about to let your dress fall to the floor. 

You let the straps fall off your shoulders and let it pool at your feet. You quickly glance over at him and watch as he looks intoxicated just looking at you. You cover your breasts with your hand and forearm. Your cheeks burn as he continues to stare and he swings his legs off the bed. He pulls you closer to him and places a soft kiss on your lips, pulling your arm away from your body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whimpers. You don’t respond to him, you can’t handle him saying those kinds of things to you. He pulls down your panties and caresses your naked body in front of him. You try to get him to take his pants off and get him to look at something else. He stands up to unbutton them and shimmies them off. He doesn’t wear anything underneath and his cock springs free. 

He looked damn good and you couldn’t help but stare at the man. 

He pulls your hand to get back on the bed with him and spreads his legs apart slightly.

“Come here baby,” he coos.

You obey and crawl on the bed with him, straddling his hips. He takes your hand and has you wrap it around his cock. You gently pump it and hear him groan as you do this. The throbbing in your core increased as you hovered over his length and rubbed it through your folds. It didn’t take long to coat him with your wetness and the feeling of him made you even more weak. 

You both lock eyes and see how badly you want each other. He was desperate for you, everything about him yearned for you and you couldn’t deny him anything. He puts his hands on your hips and helps you slowly sink down on his length. You groan as you take the first few inches of him, holding onto his shoulders for support. This felt better than you could’ve imagined, how he filled you so perfectly and made your walls hug him with each thrust. You moan softly as you take him slowly. He has the same pleased look on his face as he looks at your breasts and down to where you both are connected. 

“Oh God,” you cry. He groans in agreement, squeezing your hips tighter.

His hands slither up the sides of your torso to the front of you and squeeze your breasts in his hands. You groan with how this all feels and take a bit more of him. He pushes your body forward and his lips wrap around your nipple. He squeezes your breasts harder and sucks at them more. You can hardly function with him doing this to you. His hips buck up slightly and fills you more, making you groan loudly.

The more his hands moved all over you, discovering new spots you liked to be touched, you grew nervous again like last night and doubts invaded your mind. You were afraid this wasn’t going to be good for him. You weren’t good enough to be with Elvis like this. This wasn’t going to last. You had to be frank with yourself too, you weren’t experienced in this sort of thing. You had only been with one person he was not the adventurous type. You had to face that you were in a sexless marriage. He never asked you for such things from you which made you feel uneasy about a whole other matter you’d have to find out about. Getting on top rarely happened and you hated the way John would look up unamused at you. It made you feel small and unwanted.

 You whimper and pull at Elvis’ hair.

“Honey I can’t do this,” you sigh, lifting yourself off of his length. Elvis’ face is shrouded with concern.

“What’s wrong baby? Does it not feel good?” He asks gently. 

“No, no it does, I just- I’m afraid you’re not going to enjoy it,” you say weakly looking away so he doesn’t see your apprehensive expression. 

He gently turns your head towards him again, caressing your face in his hand. 

“That’s not true baby, I’m loving every second of it. I want you to keep going,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“Really?”

“Yes baby, you feel so good, I can’t get enough,” he almost pleads. 

You can’t believe what he’s saying and see how desperately he wants you. 

He teases you by rubbing his cock through your folds again, making you throb more. You sigh, slowly moving back and forth on his length. Your core ached and needed more of him too. 

“Come on baby, take it nice and slow,” he coos. 

You nod your head at him and your breathing staggers. You hover over his length again and he helps you line up his cock to your entrance. You slowly sink down on him and feel instant satisfaction. He felt like heaven as your walls hugged him tightly and made your head fall back. 

You moved slowly, just like he told you to, and made you both moan obscenities with each thrust. 

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he coos, rubbing your nipples lightly with his thumbs. His voice alone was going to make you finish quickly if he kept this up. You didn’t know how much you liked hearing how much he loved this. It was addicting. You loved getting praise from him you were soon discovering. 

You kept moving in slow, controlled motions, loving everything about this. 

“Take a little more baby,” he says gently. You nod your head and do just that, filling you more. 

“Oh god,” you whimper. You weren’t used to him still. He was overwhelming with the way he’d fill you in the most complete ways. He lets out a pleased groan, squeezing your hips to still you. 

“Fuck you feel good baby,” he groans as he lets his head fall back to the pillows behind him. You look away from him and your eyes squeeze closed, trembling on top of this perfect man as you slow fuck him. You move a bit more, crying out his name as your pleasure builds. You feel his hand gently move your face toward him and your eyes pop back open. 

“Look at me, Honey. I wanna see your pretty face when you fuck me,” he tells you as he thrusts his hips into you more, pushing his cock deeper. He felt so damn good in this position. His cock pushes on a sensitive spot that could have you screaming his name if you moved faster. 

“Okay baby,” you say weakly, staring into his luring eyes.

You can barely catch your breath as he helps you move a bit faster on him. You scratch at his chest and feel yourself become weaker by the second. You were going to finish soon and he was doing everything in his power to get you there. You cry out for him, begging for him to give you more.

“Takin’ me so well baby, fuck,” he grumbles, sending a pleasurable shock through your body. You loved hearing how much he liked it. You didn’t want him to stop.

“Yeah?” You whimper.

“Yes baby, doing so good. You make me want to cum in that pretty little pussy,” he groans, pushing his hips up and burying his cock all the way inside of you. You moan loudly and you let your eyes squeeze shut. Everything about taking him slow goes out the window and you move faster on him. You put your hands on his chest and fuck him harder.

His hands are firmly squeezing your hips and helping you move on him. He stills you when you’re stuffed to the hilt and trembling with need. He rocks your hips back and forth on him and you feel yourself crumble.

“Elvis oh-,” you whine. You feel your walls flutter around him and you grasp onto his forearms tightly.  

“You’re gonna cum for me, baby. Let me feel how much you love this,” he groans as he pulls you in for a kiss. 

You moan into his mouth as you feel him pound his hips into you. His pace was unrelenting and made your eyes roll back in your head. You tried to muffle your moans but it was no use, every movement had you dying. It only takes a few more slow, deep thrusts and you feel your coil snap. Your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock, making you both groan in pleasure. You claw at his arms and slowly swivel your hips on him as your orgasm rips through you. You let your head fall back, overwhelmed with what he’s giving you.

“Fuck baby that’s right, cum for me,” he coos. You cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the loud moan he just made you produce. God his voice somehow makes you feel more turned on. You feel your core squeeze around him again and he moans your name in response to it. You keep riding him, wanting to make you both feel as good as possible. You see stars behind your closed eyes and feel like you’re on another planet because of him.

Your eyes flutter open and love to see this gorgeous man writhe underneath you. He lets his head fall back and groans with each movement of your hips. Jesus, he looked good like this. You liked it when he looked completely fucked, when his breathing was ragged, and how his eyes drooped heavy with lust. Your body was getting tired, not able to move much more but he was helping you with that. 

You watch as his eyebrows furrow together and his mouth falls open slightly. 

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grunts. Your breathing falters and you grind at the base of his cock, stuffing you to the hilt. 

“Cum baby,” you groan, barely able to move anymore. 

He squeezes at your thighs and bucks his hips into you, his length pulsating inside you. You cry out for him and look down at him in disbelief. He somehow felt better like this. You rock your hips back and forth slowly on him and feel his warm seed coat your walls. He curses under his breath and looks at you in shock. 

“God baby you feel so good,” he grumbles. 

“Yes, so do you,” you say lazily. He grunts louder as he feels you grind on him, giving him as much as you can give before your body was too tired to move anymore.

You finally collapse on his chest and cling to him. He tries to soothe you with gentle touches along your back and your head. Both of you struggled for breath and needed to be in each other’s arms. 

You start to lift yourself off of him but he pushes your hips back down on him.

“No baby, keep me inside of you,” he whimpers.

You lay your head on his chest and hear his fluttering heart. He was just as excited as you were. 

You both lay there for a while, calming each other down after all of that. You were ultimately in shock. You never experienced something like this. It was pleasurable, euphoric, and thrilling all at the same time. You never expected him to care so much about you. The way he practically begged for you. The way he encouraged you to keep taking more of him. It was so attractive. You couldn’t get enough of his voice. It was one thing singing, it was beautiful and melodious. But when he was directly talking to you, it was low and gravely, making you a puddle with his cock stuffed inside of you.

You whisper in his ear, “you felt so good,” you sigh. 

He hums softly, “good baby, so did you. I really can’t get enough,” he grumbles. 

“Me either,” you sigh, not believing the words that have come out of your mouth. 

He runs his hands through your hair, “stay a little longer please, don’t run off like last night,” he whimpers in your ear. You sigh, this wasn’t easy to try to say no to him.

You sit up to look at him, “you know I can’t stay long. I have work later and I was only supposed to stop by here to get my pie plate,” you tell him.

“That was the lie you constructed? That you desperately needed to come back here to get your pie plate?” He laughs.

You roll your eyes and sigh annoyed.

“No questions were asked, it was a believable story,” you joked.

“Well I didn’t have a bite of your pie, the guys scarfed it down before I could get a crumb,” he grumbles.

“Oh no you’re gonna starve,” you tease.

“Oh I’m not complaining, I got a taste of something else last night that was quite…delicious,” he says slyly. 

God save me.

“If you want me to stay longer, you’ll have to come up with a good reason this time. I already made up my story to get here, now it’s your turn,” you say smartly. He gives you a cheeky smile and nods his head.

“Okay fine, that’s fair,” he chuckles and pauses to think of a convoluted story to keep you here. He gives you a cheeky smile when he’s got it.

“I want you to bake me something, that’ll keep you here a few more hours. If you don’t, I might just pout about it,” he says childishly and winks at you. Goddamn it he’s good. You laugh softly and sigh, “fine, you win this time.”

He has you wrapped around his finger and he knows it. You didn’t want to let go though.

Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

@ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers

@idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos@thisis-theway@gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[your-queer-dad]

Hi! (Not calling you "dad" because I have trauma from an older guy forcing me to call him "Daddy".) I have a bit of a situation...How do I navigate this? For the last several years, I have been "best friends" with someone who is pretty much a HUGE part of the trans/LGBT community and fight for rights in our area. She herself is a trans woman. It's in quotes because the longer I know her, the more red flags and toxic traits seem to bubble up and that is someone you normally wouldn't see as a best friend. BUT I cannot end the friendship or call her out on it as she could easily have me disallowed from LGBT events throughout our entire area. It started pretty early on; she basically refused to see me as a man (I am closeted trans masc/male) in public because "I have made no effort to come out or LOOK like a man!". I am closeted because our area/my family tend to be very unsafe for trans folks and I cannot afford to move out of my parents' house right now. That progressed to her calling me "trans-trender" because I don't feel dysphoria, intend on being super femme even after I am able to transition, and don't want bottom surgery. (Top surgery and a hysto would be perfect for me.) From there, she's constantly going on about how trans men/masc folks are gross because we bleed every month and how trans femme/women who don't get bottom surgery are undeserving of support and are "gross and undesirable". (For what it's worth, I met her when she was still living as a man and always supported and loved her fully. She forgets she didn't just magically transition over-night...) But lately, it's reached a point that I don't think she could redeem herself in my heart anymore. (I am so used to being abused that her previously mentioned behaviors don't hurt as much as they should.) I met a really amazing person (also trans masc) and we have become inseparable and, during one of our more intimate chats, they came out to me as intersex which lead to a longer, more in-depth conversation about their body/identity which ended with me giving them links to things for support that I knew of but of course, I am not intersex so there's not much I could offer. So, I went to my so-called "friend" and asked her for some resources in the bigger cities since my other friend recently relocated for work. I have regretted that choice since... She launched into a whole thing about how "intersex people are being greedy by also being trans" and then DEFENDED the surgeries done on many intersex babies "because it doesn't happen THAT much and besides, the parents have to consent to it so it's not like it's a dirty little secret!" She's been stuck on that for a couple days which concerns me deeply because usually she "Drops it" after a couple hours. I am sorry for the ramble but this is running through my brain like a train and I just needed to put my thoughts out there. Posting anonymously just in case she sees this.

Hey kiddo, please don't apologise it's okay. I'm always here to listen and give support where I can. She sounds like a really hard friend to be around and I don't blame you for feeling uncomfortable with that. She completely ignored and invalidated yours and your friend's gender identity, that isn't fair even if she is trans herself. I'm so sorry kiddo. 🫂🫂🫂

- dad x

[oxymoronicmoron]

[Sleep | Nosramus/GN!Reader]

Rest hardly comes to a person when their thoughts are filled with yearning. Seeking one’s touch, seeking one’s company, it makes the act of falling asleep that much harder. So in a time of need, the only person who you could consult regarding this matter in the dungeon you found yourself in, was the very person you had been yearning for. The only space which you could truly call “safe.” Though your footing may have been quiet, your presence still caught the trained eye of the silver-haired alchemist, and as you stood by his room’s doorframe, he turned his head to face you. Upon seeing you, a smile made its way onto his visage. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise.” Voice as smooth as you remembered it, the cozy energy he emitted strong as ever. It didn’t come to you as much of a surprise, though. After all, it had only been a couple of hours since you two last interacted, it’d be more shocking had you forgotten about it, than it is to remember. “Did you leave something behind?” With a shake of your head, you negated his statement. You had to come up with a reason as to why you came here, something besides “I wanted to see you,” though it hurt your brain to think about for too long. “...I don’t feel entirely comfortable sleeping alone. Not while I’m down here, anyway.” A rational sentiment, judging by the horrors you faced every corner you turned. You hoped he’d accept your reasoning as a valid excuse to be here. Hoped that he wouldn’t push the subject further. And to your delight, he did just that. “Very well. You may use my bed, if you so wish.” “Could you please join me?” You spoke before you fully thought it through, but even with the silence that followed, you didn’t regret your words. And eventually, after sensing the sincerity of your request, he let out a soft chuckle. He was taken aback, sure, but he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Especially not now that he had lost the companion that once guarded him. His chuckle warmed your heart every time you had the pleasure of hearing it, and it almost made your stay in the dungeons worth it. You wished for nothing more than to coax that sweet sound out of him every chance you were given. With a wave of his hand, he invited you to enter his room, and you did so without any semblance of hesitation. You’d do anything if he were the one to request it. Now, however, was not the time to think about that. You had earned a small victory, and in the moment that was all that mattered. Nosramus brought a hand to your lower back, and though the touch was feather-light, it still aroused thoughts in you which you could live without. You entered the bed first, and though that meant that in the case of an emergency you’d have difficulty escaping, you trusted the safety of the room enough to calm your anxiety. That, and your reluctance to doubt Nosramus’ guidance in fear of him retracting his offer, dissuaded you from requesting a change in the assigned sleeping positions. You were quick to scoot over to him, seeking his embrace. Your desire for it was what brought you here in the first place. And though he may not have been the warmest person you had ever come in contact with, the chill of his skin remained comforting. As was his scent. And the weight of his arm as it wrapped around you in an almost protective manner. Finally, you had found a place you considered safe enough, a presence you considered comforting enough. One that even in the worst of places could bring a smile to your face And with the sound of crackling fire, and the steady breathing of your friend You were lulled into a deep sleep. – 658 words “There’s no bed in the level 5 mines lab” let me dream!!! also this is not beta-read i'm gonna go hibernate again

[urlocalwhumper]

my girl and @sowhumpshaped's boy interacting bc yippee yahoo yay (yes that anon was me. again. i should really sign my anons lmfao)

also this is like a weird mix of my pet verse and theirs, tried to keep things consistent but i have adhd memory so do not count on it!! 🫡

anyways,

rayan couldn't believe it. not only had he finally, after years of attempts, been approved for his pet owner's license, but he was also heading to the shelter - not as a volunteer this time, but to finally, finally pick out a pet of his very own.

to say he was excited was an understatement, truly, but he also felt a little bad as he approached the building. he'd been so busy recently, he hadn't been in for volunteer work for a solid two weeks. he supposed it was all worth it now, though.

he only felt more and more excited, almost giddy, as he was brought back towards the kennels. no more pining and yearning, when he left this building, it'd be with his very own pet right by his side.

he already recognized most of the faces he passed, but he still bothered to go kennel-by-kennel anyways. this was possibly the most important decision he'd ever make, and he was going to take it very seriously.

there was one he didn't recognize, though. all the way in the back, curled up as small as possible on its bed, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, was a pet he'd never seen before. he couldn't even really make out any distinctive features, with the way it was hiding its face in its arms. it was blonde, he could at least say that, with floppy little dog ears of a matching color, but he couldn't pick out much else.

"when did this one get in?" he asked, frowning in sympathy. one of the other volunteers - who he admittedly didn't know very well - glanced at the pet in question and sighed.

"last week, i think." they said. "real nasty case. she was confiscated from her last owner after heavy suspicions of abuse, the pet hospital sent her here once she didn't need constant medical attention anymore."

they clicked their tongue derisively. "i don't know how someone could do that to their pet." they sighed again. "either way, she's very skittish. doesn't bite, though. not even if you corner her."

so it's a girl. rayan thought distantly, blinking silently as he processed that load of information.

"that's- that's horrible!" he spluttered, once his brain finally caught up with him. he glanced back at the kennel. the pet inside had raised her head a little bit, and he could make out one shining green eye looking warily at him. "what- what happened?"

the volunteer spun their ring of keys around their finger, before selecting one and unlocking the gate to the kennel. "see for yourself."

electing not to comment on that weirdly ominous answer, he obliged and stepped inside the kennel. almost immediately, the pet inside shrunk back, like she could somehow manage to retreat even further into the far corner of the space.

rayan frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in worry. he didn't want to scare her anymore - the poor thing had probably already been scared enough for several lifetimes. so, with a soft grunt, he got down and sat on the kennel floor, a good six feet away from her.

"hi." he said, giving his best encouraging smile. "i'm rayan. i'm not going to hurt you." he kept his tone as soft and soothing as he possibly could. he eyed the tag on her collar, too far away to actually read it. "could i know your name too?"

she just stared at him for a few moments, sizing him up with her one visible eye, before slowly, cautiously rising to her hands and knees and taking a single step out of her bed.

and the moment she turned to fully face him, he immediately understood what the other volunteer meant by see for yourself.

only one of her eyes had been visible because the other was completely missing. almost the entire left side of her face, only ending less than an inch above her mouth, was made up of the rough scar tissue left by severe burns. where her left eye would have been, there was simply a shallow divot.

it took everything in him not to visibly recoil, because he knew it'd be interpreted the wrong way. the poor thing would probably think he was disgusted by her, when in reality, he was nearly floored by the depths of the cruelty she'd had to endure. even her tail, which was tucked firmly between her legs at the moment, had an odd bend to it, like it had been broken and healed crooked.

as she got closer to him, he could see just how terribly she was trembling, the way her ribs were clearly visible against her flesh. her single eye held so much fear, and her ears were pinned back against her skull, yet she continued to approach anyways.

until finally, she sat down in front of him, hunched and small and afraid. he wanted so badly to just reach out and comfort her, but he knew that escalating that quickly would likely scare her more.

slowly, so she could still keep a close eye on his movements and back away if she felt threatened, he reached for her collar. black leather - heavy duty, but impersonal. "NANA" was engraved on the front of the tag in bold, capital letters. The back was bare.

"nana." he repeated. her gaze immediately snapped from his hand back to his face. "is that your name?"

after a few hesitant seconds, she gave a single nod.

he smiled. "it's nice to meet you, nana." he said. "would it be okay if i pet you?"

she looked almost incredulous that he was asking, but nodded again anyways.

the moment his hand started to card through her hair, it was like her demeanor did a complete 180. she all but melted into the touch, leaning heavily into his hand as he scratched behind her ears. he could even see her tail starting to wag out of the corner of his eye.

poor thing. he thought sadly. is this really all it takes?

"you were just scared, weren't you?" he said. "scared i was gonna hurt you..." he couldn't even entertain the thought. "well, everything's okay. i'm not gonna hurt you, see?"

to his shock, she stepped closer again, and curled up in his lap, looking up at him with and eye full of pleas for more pets. he couldn't help but laugh to himself as he obliged.

"so," the volunteer from earlier said, nearly sending rayan jumping out of his skin - he'd forgotten they were there! "think you've found a keeper?" they gave him a knowing smile.

he looked down at the pet curled up in his lap, feeling the joy of finally achieving his dream once again.

he beamed as brightly as he could. "i- yeah! i think i did!"

[icaruspendragon]

Please stop making spn posts just let it die please

here’s the thing- i will not be doing that.

you see, there’s so much shit in this world. the horrors. the terrors. all of it. they’re out there. and something that makes the horrors and the terrors and all the other shit a little easier for me to deal with is talking about a silly little fifteen year long collective fever dream. it’s one of the last vestiges of adolescence i have.

when i was being tossed about in the sea of my grief, it was spn that kept me from drowning. it was misha collins dubbing himself my nemesis and participating in the mishapocalypse 2.0 that gave me a distraction i needed so terribly in the early days of me trying to learn how to be an only child. he didn’t have to. he could have ignored the whole thing. but he didn’t. and that’s something so special to me i don’t think i’ll ever have the words to articulate the depths of my gratitude. because the first time i felt joy after my brother dying was at a supernatural convention. it was when i asked misha about the silly comment and he had a screenshot of it on his phone ready to show me to prove he had done it, that was the first time i realized that one day i wouldn’t feel so full of nothing i didn’t have room for anything else. it was the community i made there that showed up for me time and time and time again that made me realize i may be lonely, but i wasn’t alone. and that wasn’t the first time the community around that show had made me feel that. and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

the first time i ever encountered fandom in full force was in 2013. that’s a decade of my life. and it’s because i decided to watch supernatural. and it was in this fandom space that for the first time ever, i felt seen and heard and valued. for the first time in my life, i felt like i mattered. and my thoughts mattered. it wasn’t until i found fandom by way of spn that i realized i had value and worth. it was that show that gave me some of the best friends i could have ever asked for. it is because of the spn fandom that i have been given so many opportunities. that i have a way to make an actual difference.

and it has continued to do that for me. even ten years later. there are people who i didn’t know existed less than a year ago who i couldn’t imagine my life without now. people who have been to my home. people who have become my home. people i have flown across the country to see and people who have flown across the country to see me. people who are my family. and i met them because we share the same level of brain rot for a cw show that caused a great deal of damage to our psyches.

we get to curate our internet experience. we get to look at and talk about and post about what we want. and if someone posts something we don’t care for, we don’t have to look at it or engage with it or interact with it. we can scroll. we can block. we can ignore. we each get to carve out our own little space online. we get to build a little home. and my home is full of my love for a lot of things. for avatar: the last airbender and the hunger games and percy jackson and fandom and fanfic in general. my love for poetry and art and words. and yes, my love for a show that ended over two years ago that has haunted corners of the internet since 2005. i have a lot of love for a lot of things. so i talk about and post about the things that i love because i don’t ever want to look back and say, “my god, i should have loved more.” and i’m allowed to do that. because this is my space. i built it just for me.

this silly little show with it’s silly little characters is the one thing i have from Before that has remained unchanged. and even if that weren’t the case. even if i didn’t have all this sentimentality attached to it. even if it was never a lighthouse, a buoy for me. even if it was just something i casually enjoyed. i would still post about it. because it makes me happy. because i’m not hurting anyone by enjoying it. because it’s given me a little blip of light in a dark world. and you don’t have to consume it if you don’t want to. that’s the beauty of all of us living in different houses. we can visit who we want, when we want. and we don’t have to visit the houses we don’t to. how wonderful it is, that we are the gods of this small thing. we get to create and dismantle and create again. as many times as we want. because this is our space to do with what we want.

and i want to post about my love for all things, including hit cw show supernatural. and i can. so i will. because i’m the one living in this house. and no one is making you come visit.

[blackswan446]

worth it - three.

→ pairing: yan!knj x reader

→ wc: 679 (😰)

→ cws: heavy descriptions of gore and murder, heavy descriptions of cutting (not as sh)

→ notes: im just pulling all this stuff out of my ass this story has NO set plot and i don't even know how it's gonna end #lol after writing: AAAJGSFGJ ITS SO SHORT IM GONNA CRY

--

collapsing onto the ground, namjoon struggled to catch his breath as his back touched the cool, grimy metal of the dumpster. even though it was a fit guy, who made time to work on his physique and be healthy, the heinous act he had just committed really took the wind out of him. it was worth it, though, every last second of it, and as he set down the bat, now covered in a thick coat of blood and flesh, he took a slow, deep breath.

he observed the scene in front of him, taking in every detail of the guy's limp form. he laid there, in a sticky pool of crimson growing quickly below, crumpled up with his limbs sticking out in directions unattainable without a broken bone. every inch of his skin and body was covered in gashes, from which ruby red liquid flowed like water. a gaping hole sat on the back of his skull, clumpy brain matter spilling from it, leaking out onto the asphalt. his hands, the same disgusting hands that had been used against you, were broken and bleeding, fingernails cracked and broken from his earlier attempt to claw at the ground, away from his assailant.

he was dead, alright. and as the light of the moon casted a ghostly glow onto his battered corpse, namjoon felt a sick sense of pride in his actions. despite this feeling, he still felt weirdly...unfulfilled. like he could do more for you, more to devote himself to you as your guardian angel and dedicated lover. although his entire reason for doing all of this, for the gifts, and for the entire obsession, started because he fell victim to his own curiosity, he had grown an intense adoration for you. the more he learned about you, the harder he fell. so he felt obligated to do more to prove himself, he wanted to do more for you.

pondering what else he could possibly do to further intertwine you and him forever, his mind wondered to the small switchblade in his pocket. he had brought it just in case he needed something a bit more to use on the...thing...that he had dealt with just moments before (spoiler alert: the bat was more than enough).

maybe he could make it useful now. he had heard plenty of fiction plots in which someone carves their lover's name into their skin...why not make it reality? sure, it would hurt like hell, but if you're giving someone a beautiful rose, you're bound to get pricked by its thorns. and the pain of his skin splitting beneath the steel is nothing more than a drop of ink in the ocean of passion namjoon held in his heart.

he didn't think twice before taking the dainty blade from his back pants pocket and rolling up the left sleeve of his long black shirt. the click of the blade filled the silence around him, the shiny metal glinting in the moonlight like a diamond, glittering in the damp, dusky alleyway. taking a deep breath and pressing the cool blade to his clear, unmarked wrist, namjoon didn't have to pray for the courage to press down.

biting back an array of curses and complaints as a thick drop of blood rolled down his wrist, he slowly carved out the lines and swoops of your first initial. combined with the darkness of the sky and his own warm lifeblood staining more and more of his wrist as it flowed freely from his new, red oblation. he didn't care about the pain, or the blood, or the scars it would leave. this is what he wanted, no, what he needed to do.

continuing the excruciating yet addictive action, over and over until he was left with a scarlet mess and beautiful testimony of his affection. with every cut he made into his clean, porcelain skin, he became more and more enslaved to your very being. through his eyes, you were his divinity, and he the humble worshipper, who was fully prepared to do anything in your honor.

anything.

--

taglist: @teugiie

[stardustizuku]

I have to ask out of curiosity, on the TVTropes wiki page, the Miraculous Ladybug page says that the show is a Magical Girl/Superhero genre hybrid of sorts. If you believe that is the case, since I believe it might be just speculation, would that change or impact what the rules can be established or removed in either of these genres?

The reason why I made the essay with Magical Girls at its focus - was simply because I’m more well versed in Magical Girl stories than super heroes. As well as the fact that it hurt me deeply as a fan of that genre.

But let it be known. Miraculous Ladybug suck ass as a Superhero story too.

For mostly the same reasons as I stated in the Magical Girl Analysis because…

Well, Magical Girls ARE superheroes.

Like, sexism has sort of wrapped peoples’ idea of what Magical Girls are but despite all the frills and cuteness - these are girls that fight evil on a daily with super powers and secret identities.

You see, Japan and the USA have very different ways of marketing their animated show for children. Japan has a very gendered demographic, you have Shoujo and you have Shounen. They’re aimed for different audiences. While boys have stuff like Kamen Raiden and Super Seitan, girls have Pretty Cure. They serve the exact same purpose they’re just - gendered differently.

The USA has…also! Gender. Just. One.

It’s supposed a nebulous “kids” with mass appeal, aka unisex of sorts…? But no, really it’s just boys. And maybe girls to get them to buy toys.

When it comes to superheroes in particular, that’s the main difference.

It’s not a Magical Girl with Superhero thing, but American Superhero for girls with Japanese Superhero for girls.

The real issue MLB has when it tries to shoehorn in the Superhero theme is that…it sorta sucks?

Like, if it’s lagging behind Magical Girl adjacent takes in the western hemisphere, it’s outright losing in the SuperHero department.

While Anime has been sort of mainstream for the last 20 or so years (maybe less), which leads to maybe 15 years worth of Magical Girl takes in western cartoons…

There’s almost a century worth of Superheroes before MLB.

Everything that could have been done by MLB was done by superhero stories at least in the 1970’s.

Even the idea of “girls superhero” is something seen before. Like, we have the powerpuff girls, we have wordgirl, we have Kim Possible, DC superhero girls, totally spies…

It’s not a new concept. In fact, superheroes are such a common concept that blockbuster movies are running out of ideas. So they’re throwing everything they can at the board to see what sticks, creating something so Goddamned convoluted no one has the brain energy left to keep up with it.

Sounds familiar?

It’s obvious that the creative team took heavy inspiration from magical girls to make their superhero story. In their head, and at surface level, this makes sense.

BUT as I’ve stated above, there’s a cultural difference between Magical Girls and Superheroes each baked into the identity of each genre.

This is the rough equivalent of trying to mix English Mythology with Japanese Mythology, knowing only about yokai and fairies in regards to each…if you know nothing it sorta makes sense but if you KNOW

Then it’s total BS

Which by the way, American and Japanaese superheroes mixed in, with Chinese culture as powers made by a French guy who knows next to nothing about any of these cultures…

Do you get why I keep calling Thomas’ weird attitudes towards his project a “fetishization”? It’s because it is.

To summarize, even if you take this show as more of a Superhero story, it still sucks. My points would (for the most part) still stand. With the added caviar that it’s not only shameful for its lack of interest in its own genre - but the fact that every single person and their mother would see the story as 100x more uninspired. Because at least 5 other comics from 70s would have done smth similar with either powers or identities.

The only redeeming quality it had was it target towards little girls and doing so by borrowing the Magical girl aesthetic.

Which it fucking spat on and I’m still pissed about it.

In regards, and trying to answer your question - it’s complicated.

This would essentially be a massive cultural exchange challenge.

For example, the reason why superheroes in the USA have powers given to them as failed experiments and radioactive waste, while Japan has magic or aliens… is very much tied to their history and cultural identity.

The values that each have reflect on their superheroes too - American Superheroes may value individualism more than Japanese superheroes do.

And again, there’s the whole gendered thing. Superheroes stories in the USA tend to lean more gender neutral for mass appeal, Japanese superheroes are very heavily coded as in what they’re meant for. (Cough the reason why there’s so much queer subtext in magical girl stories cough)

So, asking the question “what rules should it make so that it’s a hybrid between these two genres”, while a valid one, I’m not sure I can be the one to answer it.

Because it depends. On what the creator saw, what they wanted, what they intended to say by mixing these two.

This is not something you ask AFTER you’ve your show. These are the questions you ask BEFORE it.

To properly create a hybrid, you ought to have a vision. And take parts of each to create what you wanted to say.

MLB borrows (or should I say steal?) aesthetics and surface level aspects of both genres. It broke as many American superhero rules as it did magical girl ones.

In specific, The Alger Ego and Theme stands as something it fucked over in BOTH. But it also failed superheroes. In what way, I really wouldn’t be able to tell.

I’m not a fan of superheroes. I don’t know why people like them, I don’t know why they watch them. I have a mild understanding of them but trying to tell you in the same depth as I did in the Magical Girl Essay what exactly they did wrong…would be an impossible task to me.

But if Thomas thinks that we, the magical girl fans, are mean to him…oh boy. Wait till he tells a Marvel Stan he thinks he’s made the best superhero story ever.

I would pay money for that

[storiesofsvu]

Happy Thursday!!

Okay but what kind of person takes out that much cash at a street front atm at night, with ear buds in?! I get anxiety going to the bank in broad daylight. LOL

“4am isn’t morning, it’s still last night.” THANK YOU. Lol. We are one and the same

I need to start paying more attention to this show and potentially start writing for Shaw cause holy fuck

There’s a whole lot of AI shit going on in these shows this season… interesting that it’s being used to help (so far at least) on one and the downsides being shown on the others…

Okay damn… never even thought about ai videos being used as evidence… it’s really gonna be the end of us all, isn’t it?

Woof! That maroon coat?! Thank you wardrobe!

Okay, apologies, I ended up missing a good chunk of the ep to make dinner, lololol. Just know that dinner was delicious and worth it (and something new!) though now I have a pile of dishes. Ugh.

Svu time!

Okay yeah so thank god we’re not leaving the Maddie case behind like it didn’t matter to liv.

GIRL! Please don’t just run into traffic, you know better.

Serious question… do fitbits/heart rate monitors work if they’re over your clothes?

Velasco’s sweater looks hella cozy. I honestly want to steal all of his clothing lol.

We’ve had way more talk of profiling, behaviour analysis and shit on this show in the past little bit… are they trying to be criminal minds? Cause like… that show already exists.

Tell me why olivia’s “fin and I will keep working all night if we have to” made my brain immediately jump to mean girls “we will keep you here til 4…” LOL.

You know…. I will say, with less cops around at least carisi’s getting more screen time even though we never go to court.

Honestly… liv isn’t great on the stand and she never really has been. She lets her emotion and anger show through way too much. I get the idea/direction of that but also… if she’s always so snippy while testifying how is she allowed to demean her squad members for the same thing?

This kids a good actor

Alright, onto OC

 AHHHH I FORGOT ABOUT MELINDA AND HER NAME JUST POPPED IN THE CREDITS FUCK YEAH

“I meant at home” “I’m fine, we’re good” okay, so y’all are still married it just hasn’t been mentioned in a while.

Oh PLEASE, as if Elliot wouldn’t get an ego boost over younger officers calling him sir. He always wanted to be in charge, he thinks he’s in charge of OC half the time already.

I do not trust this officer guy, there’s something sus going on

Okay… how did this dude get hurt enough to end up in the icu?? He was halfway across the street when the blast hit?

Im screaming, crying, throwing up over that Melinda scene!!!!

First off: she hasn’t changed at all, the writing, the performance, the little quips where she’s all “yeah I can’t conclusively tell you what you want to hear,” she won’t fib and risk her job and we love her for it. Also the vulnerability from stabler?! What?? incredible. also her face when he hugged her, the ultimate confusion and tensing up “what… is this for?” LOL. Imma need more of her in the future on this show!

Is this other captain a “frenemie” or an ex girlfriend? Sus.

 “glad you’re in therapy” homeboi, that is WHERE YOU SHOULD BE TOO.

“that’s a shame, I always liked angela, what’d you do to her?” LOL. BERNIE. I love you.

Well this isn’t good….

There was absolutely no way shape or form that none of those cops went into that warehouse and DIDN’T think there would be a bomb…

[ghostmartyr]

Dignity's overrated, right?

Shout-out to anyone who's had a suicidal spiral over a fictional story.

There's a few versions of this post I might make one day, but right now I think that's the best thing I can say about it.

(But then I kept typing, so you get a cut with a bunch of vulnerable rambling about how a comic book made me want to die enough that I finally got medicated for my psychological disorder. Like and subscribe.)

Because as excruciating as life felt when I wanted to die, the humiliation I felt even inside my own head over the trigger made it difficult to talk about and difficult to process.

I wasted a lot of energy being ashamed of not even having a 'justifiable' reason to kill myself. I continue to waste a lot of energy on the exact type of thinking that landed me there, and even typing this, I'm well aware that the literal last ten times I've wanted to kill myself, fiction was the catalyst. Because of a lot of flawed internal processes, the eleventh time coming up will probably share the love.

It is so easy to get caught up in just... how childish it feels, and discount everything because of that. Except one of the things I'm slowly coming around to is that this is some of the problem. I was very seriously considering sentencing myself to death for reacting badly to fiction, and I get that a "yikes, lol" is pretty much considered the correct response to that.

But I needed something to go right, and I found A Thing, and it didn't go right, and that destroyed what was left of my will to live. And even though I know that I'm one bad day away from that same emotional response kicking in, every time I think about it, there isn't a thought of "I'm glad I didn't kill myself."

It is entirely shame, because I look at myself and what I care about, and my first reaction to having an emotion about it is "you shouldn't feel that, that's an overreaction." Which goes unnoticed when it's a happy silliness like dissolving into ship brain rot, because yeah, it's a silly overreaction to some pixels. Why should I shy away from calling it silly? It is.

I don't think anything anyone said would have helped me back then. Medication came in clutch. But I guess, really thinking about it... We all have heard the "your feelings are valid" words and all the caveats that go with them.

Even if you think your feelings are silly, you are not. Your emotions are worthy of compassion because they're part of you. However you got wherever you are emotionally... Don't dismiss yourself. Meet yourself where you're at.

I wanted to die over a comic book. I love stories enough that they fully have the power to hurt me. That is a dangerous place to be in, and that danger deserves my actual respect.

It's not ideal, but that sense that I was actually in trouble, regardless of the reasons, is what got me back in therapy and got me medicated.

Being ashamed of myself only ever made me lock myself away until I was so alone that I had new reasons to want to die.

And in case I have not made this clear: wanting to die really, really sucks. It's a terrible experience, terrible feeling, and funnily enough I think I would have been much happier without it.

Life is worth living. It really, really is.

I was in a place where a single story could take that belief away.

That isn't silly, it's horrifying.

I am glad I'm alive. A ton of stuff sucks, but I have had so much happiness in the past year alone, and I get to hug my dog every single day if I want to. I am alive, and I want to be, and despite and because of the whole everything about it, I will continue with it.

And I don't really have a conclusion because I was honestly just going to leave it at the first few sentences and go to bed. Some things never change.

[crashdevlin]

Remembering

Author’s Note: This is part Thirty-two of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: John helps Y/n call upon the only beings powerful enough to help her.

Pairing: none

Word count: 4116

Story Warnings:  angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, reader illness, reader amnesia, memories of non-con, memories of abuse

~~~

“What are we doing?” you asked, shaking your head as you watched John Winchester dig a hole in your back garden with his hands.

“You need to take the drachma out of the necklace,” he instructed, absentmindedly gesturing toward you with his dirt-covered left hand.

“But why?” It seemed like complete nonsense to you. Why was he digging a hole and why did he need your special drachma? You pulled the necklace off and unclipped the glass case holding the coin anyway, dropping the silver into your palm and looking over at him.

“The drachma was a gift to you from Hades and Persephone. I figure a pagan god might be able to either get your memories back or find a way to get Dean back.”

You looked at him for a minute, blinking slowly as the words sank in. “Hades and Persephone?”

He nodded, still not looking at you as he piled soil to the side of the hole. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a long story, but they saved you from Hell when you sold your soul for Dean. They’re the reason you got your first second chance.” He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned to you. “You just need to bury it. Hades should show up.”

“Are-are you sure?” You rubbed the coin between your fingers, fear falling over you. “I have had this almost all of my life. I don’t want to mess it up or-”

“Dirt won’t hurt it…and calling on them didn’t do any damage last time you did it,” John assured you, covering your hand with his own and looking down into your eyes. “I promise that it’s going to be okay.”

“Oh…okay.” You nodded and stepped away from him, toward the hole. You took a steadying breath as you dropped the coin into the spot and swept dirt over it.

“It has been far too long, louloudi mou.” You gasped at the deep voice with the slightly Greek accent and twisted. He was tall and well-muscled with a thick, dark beard, dressed in a deep blue hoodie and jeans. His presence was overwhelmingly alpha and yet…comforting in the strangest way. Hades’ eyes moved from you to John and back. "You have no sign of recognition. Do you not know me, Y/n?"

"I'm sorry." You shook your head. "I...I guess, um, my memories were altered?" You looked to John for support as the larger alpha's eyebrows rose.

“Death went digging in her brain,” John answered for you. “He was trying to give her a fresh start, which he did, but it wasn’t worth it.”

Hades sighed and reached out to touch your shoulder. Part of you wanted to flinch away from the touch, as he was a stranger to you, but the comfort in his presence made you stay stalwart. “Y/n. All that was you has been taken?”

There was so much concern and caring in his words and in his eyes that you felt yourself calming down completely. “Not…not all of me…I don’t think?”

“She’s still in there. Her memories have just been hidden, buried under a lifetime of false ones.” John cleared his throat as he stepped closer to Hades. “She’s shown that she’s still there, and she can still fight, and she’s…”

“She’s sick.” The god’s head tilted as he examined you. “There is disease in your loins.” The fear flooded back for a minute, but then his hand tightened its grip on your shoulder. “Louloudi mou, you have been through so much. Do you truly want to remember it all?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’m not right. I’m not me. I need to be me so that I can get Dean back.”

“You do not remember Dean. Why do you feel you need to get him…back?”

You cleared your throat and let out a shaky breath. “He’s in Purgatory. He’s living in fear and pain. I can feel it.”

“She’s been dreamin’ of him since she’s been-”

“Dreaming of both of them,” you interrupted.

“You are connected to them, yes. You would be dreaming of them. It is inevitable.” Hades nodded and stepped back. “If you have called upon me to mine the memories out of the mountain of falsities the Horseman created, I fear I will be forced to disappoint you. This is beyond my capabilities.”

“What about Mnemosyne?” you asked, a bit desperately. “Can you just try and get her to-”

“Ah. You haven’t forgotten your lore, then?” The god smiled and nodded. “I can call upon Mnemosyne. The Titanis is a bit inconsistent and there is no guarantee of her acquiescence to the request. In fact, she might be more apt to agree if Persephone were to ask,” he said thoughtfully.

“And if she won’t help…can you, at least, help us get Dean out of Purgatory?” John asked.

Hades didn’t even look at him; his eyes focused on you entirely as he gave a singular nod. “Yes. I will get your mate back.”

“He’s not my-” you began, and Hades laughed. It was loud and stopped you in your tracks.

“You are, indeed, still in there, Y/n, because that is the same lie you used to tell me in the Underworld. I will return, hopefully with the assistance you require.”

He disappeared in an instant, leaving you staring at an empty garden. You turned to John and let out a shaky sigh. "So…what now?"

He smiled. "Now, we have a beer and wait."

You nodded and dropped to your knees to get the drachma back. "I have beer…but I think whiskey might suit the situation better."

John chuckled, heading inside. “There’s a hunter in you, after all.”

“Bottle’s above the fridge!” you called as you wiped the drachma on your pants and held it up to ensure you’d gotten all the dirt off it. You slipped the coin back into the necklace and sighed. Why was everything so crazy all of a sudden? You licked your lips as you walked into your home to see John pouring two glasses of whiskey. “Make it a double.”

“Of course,” he said, pouring more into both glasses.

~~~

“So I was in a relationship with Dean?” you asked.

John shrugged. “A bit.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, a bit miffed at the evasive answer.

Before he downed the rest of his whiskey, he seemed to contemplate which words to use. “You were in love. For years, you were both in love. Everyone could see it, but Dean was so scared that he would hurt you, and you were so tired of being treated like you were…disposable?”

“What?” You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘disposable’?”

John ran his hand down his face and sighed. “Look, you guys loved each other. You slept with all of us…mostly from necessity, but you were in love with Dean. And you-”

“Why would Death take me and make me into someone else?” you interrupted, sipping at your drink.

“You…weren’t happy.” He cleared his throat. “Things with Dean were rocky. Sam was a bit of an issue…always.”

Your eyebrows came together. “Why was Sam an issue? Sam was my best friend before he went off to Stanford.”

John hesitated, avoiding your eyes by looking at his lap. “Sam lost his mind a bit a few years ago. He hurt you.”

“Hurt me, how?” you pressed.

He sighed and you got the feeling he didn’t really want to go into detail for you. “It’s very complicated, Y/n. There are alternate timelines and death and resurrection and a nasty little demon bitch that got Sam addicted to her blood and-”

“Her blood?” The very idea of someone consuming demon blood in any manner was shocking.

John nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up and cleared his throat. “Do you really wanna know all this? Or do you wanna wait until your memories are fixed?”

You shrugged. Part of you wanted to know, but part of you wanted to keep the bliss of ignorance a little bit longer. “It was that bad, huh?”

“Bad enough that you wanted to forget half of your life to get rid of it.”

You couldn’t imagine what sweet Sammy had done that was so horrible. You couldn’t imagine him hurting you at all. “Yeah. I’m…not sure I want to know yet.”

“I would always choose to know, agapite mou. Knowledge is the only way to move forth,” a sweet, lovely voice said.

You turned to look up at the most beautiful woman you’d ever laid eyes upon, standing next to Hades and a large blonde woman. You stood, feeling warmth in your heart as you gazed up at the brunette. “Persephone?”

“I wish that were not a guess, dear girl,” Persephone said, smiling sadly as she walked forward. “But my cousin has graciously agreed to work her wonders on you.”

The blonde stepped forward as John stood, a coldness in her stance and voice. “Are you worth this?”

“Mnemosyne.” Hades’ voice was a warning.

She rolled her eyes and gestured at the chair you vacated before walking over to stand behind it. Persephone nodded in encouragement and smiled at you, so you sat down.

“Is this gonna be safe?” John asked.

“Is safety something you take stock in, asudden?” Hades asked.

“Point taken.”

Hands covered your eyes, taking your vision with darkness.

~~~

“Do you really want to know?” John’s voice echoed in your head. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in Bobby’s study, lying on the sofa. You sat up and looked over at the only other person in the room. It was John, but he looked so much younger than he did before you fell asleep. Maybe 25 years old. He looked handsome…and you weren’t sure why that didn’t upset you. “You can stay ignorant. You have the option to stay happy.”

“I’m not happy.”

“You only think that because I told you you weren’t happy. Come on. I’m a man you barely remember; a man your father told you to stay away from.”

You shook your head and stood. You could tell this wasn’t John. This was a memory or a representation. “John, or whoever you are, I might not be able to remember you, but I remember your sons. I remember Dean…and if I’m going to die soon, I need to get him back from Purgatory.”

“So you’ve got cancer. Big fucking deal. People survive the big C every day.” It was so nonchalant and cavalier. It didn’t seem right coming from him. “Why don’t you take your chances with the doctors and chemo?”

You scoffed. “No. I’m sorry, but no. Dean needs me.”

“Okay, fine. Where do you wanna start?” You turned behind you to see Sam Winchester standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was young, too, maybe 22. He stepped away from the partition and ran his hand through his hair. “Because there’s a lot, Y/n, and I’m not just talkin’ about what we did to you. I’m talking about Hell.”

You swallowed as fear rose in you like a lava flow. “Hell?”

He nodded, a small smirk on his lips. “Hell. You know…downstairs.” Sam pointed at the floorboards. “Fire, brimstone, torture. I’m talking about a distortion of time that made it seem like hundreds of years while demons carved chunks out of you over and over with no sign of relief.” He stepped closer and the smirk turned into a sad, tight smile. “You don’t want to remember that, Y/n.”

“No. I don’t. But…”

“You have to.” Sam shook his head, his fluffy hair swaying a bit. “I get it. You don’t know who you are because you think there’s so much of you missing.”

“There is a lot-”

“Death replaced all of it. Everything he took away, he replaced, Y/n,” Sam insisted. There was an insistence in his voice, a sadness in his eyes. He seemed so much like the boy you remembered that you couldn’t help but wonder what became of him after he came back into your life. What was he hiding? “He took away your pain. He gave you a normal life. Don’t invite the pain back.”

“It’s done, Sam. I’m here. I know that I’m missing pieces. I can’t go back to pretending! So where do we start?!” you exploded. “What did you do to me, Sam Winchester? Why did I forget you?”

He sighed and dropped to the couch you woke up on, sprawling his long legs out and scratching at his head. “You know, I knew you loved my brother the moment I saw you two together. There was so much tension and neither of you would say why but I saw it. It was a few months after I got back into hunting and I was still broken up about Jessica so it didn’t feel like I was losing much when I noticed the way you looked at him in the diner.” He shook his head in exasperation. “You wouldn’t say it, because of course you wouldn’t, and Dean couldn’t see it because he thinks he’s garbage, but I saw it. And I…I ignored it. Because it only took one smell of you when you went into heat for me to remember how much your scent used to turn me on. I wanted you, Y/n, and something in me…that deep, dark, controlling, angry part of me that Azazel put in me when I was a baby…it told me I could take you.”

A flash of sickly yellow eyes went through your mind at the name ‘Azazel,’ and you gasped. Memories of torture and hellfire welled up and turned to nausea in your chest.

“Dean didn’t make it difficult, really,” Sam continued. “He practically threw you at me. You didn’t want me. You didn’t love me, but…I took you, anyway. Every chance I got.”

A quick succession of images went through your mind: you and Sam in an apple orchard, you and Sam kissing beside Dean’s hospital bed, you and Sam in the back of the Impala. You looked away at Bobby’s desk, hoping to find comfort in the stacks of books and clutter.

“But then you went to Hell. You went to Hell for Dean, and that burned me up inside, ya know? It would have been one thing if you’d just gotten killed for him. God knows we’ve had enough of that in our lives, but you, you sentenced yourself to unimaginable torture for him…and you did it with a smile on your lips because you thought he deserved to live more than you did. Dean paid it forward to me, wanted me to live because he just couldn't live with me gone." You chewed on your bottom lip and let out a huffing sigh. “You got back just in time to fail to save him, and I thought you would be mine after he went down. You should have been mine after he went down, but you fled, and you fell apart, and you left me to fall apart alone. I was alone! Of course, I wound up in a relationship with Ruby!” His words were filled with accusation and blame.

Blond hair and red lips flashed in your mind. Brown hair and pretty eyes. Blood covering Sam’s mouth. A wild look in his eyes.

A memory hit you like a Mack truck.

“You marked me!” you accused right back.

“I had to!” He jumped up, anger rolling off of him. He looked older, his body thicker and more alpha than before. “You were supposed to be mine, and you were being disrespectful by denying me!”

You scoffed at the idea that he had to mark you to make you respect his imagined claim to you. “Are you kidding me?! You bit me! I had to turn to your father to curb my heats! I-”

“You were mine! Dean was in Hell! You had no reason to deny me anymore!”

“I obviously did! You forced me to be your mate like we were back in the 17th century! Am I not a human being to you?!”

“You’re not really a human being to any of us, honestly.” You turned your attention to the kitchen where Dean Winchester was leaning against the counter, a coffee mug in his hand. “I mean, whether we love you or just want you, the Winchesters historically don’t do well with seeing you as more than just an omega.”

Your heart fell a bit as you walked toward the kitchen. “Dean, I-”

“You’re lookin’ good, Y/n…, but you’re not doin’ too good, are you?”

You swallowed. “I’m sick, but…that’s not a big deal. I’m…looking for you. I’m…”

He smiled a little and reached back to set the mug on the counter. “I appreciate it. I spent a long time looking for you before I got stuck in Purgatory, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, you don’t have to do this. I’m not worth throwing away your perfect life.”

“My life’s not perfect. I’m not happy.”

“You keep sayin’ that, but why do you trust my dad over your own heart, huh? You thought you were happy before you got sick, and he showed up, right?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked across the kitchen at you. “Dad’s not any more trustworthy than Sam or me. You cut him out of your life before too.”

You swallowed thickly and chewed on your bottom lip for a second before taking a deep breath. “Why? What did John do?”

“What do you think he did? Remember what we told you about him when we were growing up. What do you think he did to you?” You looked down at the ugly tile floor. Dean’s boots entered your vision as you thought about it. The biggest complaints the boys had about their father were neglect and abuse. “So you’re going to take the word of an abusive piece of shit like John Winchester over your own emotions? You’re not that dumb, kid.”

“I knew something was missing,” you whispered. “I knew something wasn’t right. I…” You looked up, getting caught in his beautiful eyes. “He cares about me. John didn’t mean to hurt me.” You knew that in your heart.

“You know…he never meant to hurt me, either, or Sammy. But he did, didn’t he? He hurt everyone he ever came across. He left a trail of bodies a mile wide, and we just let him get away with it. Why are you so determined to be a body on the pile, Y/n?”

“It’s not for John…it’s for you.” You looked away. “Ya know what, though? John did horrible things, but he has also saved a lot of lives.” You looked back up into his eyes. “We’ve all done horrible things! We’re hunters, Dean! There’s been collateral damage, broken hearts and destroyed lives. There’s a few hundred people that probably think we’re the worst thing that ever happened to them, and that is no one’s fault. It is the nature of the job!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Sam said, forcing your attention to the study again. He was younger again, his face sad. “You can still be normal. Don’t you know what I would give to be normal, Y/n? Anything. Everything. I would sacrifice-”

“I don’t want normal; I want Dean!” you exploded.

“Your choice is made,” echoed through the house.

~~~

You gasped as your eyes snapped open. You looked across the room at John, Hades, and Persephone. Your emotions were a tempest, and you were exhausted. The trio looked hopeful, but there was little hope in your heart. Everything hurt. All of the memories that Death had so carefully hidden from your consciousness were warring at the forefront of your mind now.

“Did it work?” John asked, stepping around Hades. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down and bursting into tears. “Welcome back, baby girl.” He seemed to understand that it wasn’t necessarily the joyous occasion that it might have been.

“Are you well?” Hades asked, walking up and taking your hands as Mnemosyne walked around to stand beside her cousin.

You shook your head. “I’m as well as I can be…” You sniffled and chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “I’m…me, I guess.”

“Thank God.” John rushed forward and hugged you, but you just shook your head before pushing him away lightly.

“We need to get ready to go.”

“Wait. We need to-” he started, but you stepped backward.

“We brought me back so that we could save Dean! We have to go to Purgatory!”

“Breathe, agapite mou,” Persephone said, walking over and taking your hands in hers. Every motion was meant to be calming and soothing. “You’re feeling overly emotional.”

“You asked for this, mortal. Your mind tried to shield you but you would not heed.”

You turned to glare at Mnemosyne. “I also asked for what Death did to me!” You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you focused on Hades’ bearded face. “I’m sorry. I’m just…overwhelmed. I’m sorry. I asked for all of this.”

John walked forward and wrapped his arms around you. “You need to take some time and come back to yourself, darlin’.”

“No. We need to go to-”

Hades grabbed your shoulders, easily wrenching you from John’s grasp and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Listen to my wife, my girl. You need to breathe.”

You took a deep breath at his urging, resting your head against his chest as you worked to calm yourself. It wasn’t until you let out the second long exhale that you started to sob into his chest. “It’s so hard!”

Hades rubbed his hand up and down your back until you stopped crying. “Is that better, louloudi mou?”

You sniffled as you stepped back away from him. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…show weakness.”

“You’re allowed to cry,” John said, stepping up.

“No. There’s so much-”

He shook his head. “There’s been some hard facts that you had to find out over the last few hours. You are allowed.”

You wiped at your eyes and sighed. “I’m fine.” You cleared your throat. “Let’s go get ready to head out.”

“We have to talk about that, actually,” John said, looking between the god and goddess of the Underworld.

A cold feeling fell over you as Hades nodded solemnly. “What?”

“Only one of us can cross into Purgatory.” Your face fell as John licked his lips. “It takes a lot of power to get there and Hades can’t take us both.”

“No.” You shook your head. It was a blow you couldn’t deal with. Only one of you heading into Purgatory? Trying to navigate that place with no support was going to be Hell. “N-no. We need-”

“I’ll go,” John volunteered. “He’s my son and I should be the one to-”

“No. Are you stupid?” you snapped. You scratched at your scalp and looked away, feeling ashamed at letting your emotions continue to be wild. “I am dying of cancer. You need to stay here and protect the people here. I will take my dying ass to somewhere worse than Hell and get your son back.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Hades. “I’m going to grab some equipment and then you can take me.” Hades just nodded without a word, so you went into a rush to grab a camping bag, provisions, and a hunter’s toolkit that Bobby gave you. Even your other self kept a hold of that kit.

“You’re not dying,” John said when you emerged from the back of the house. He seemed resigned, not trying to keep you from going. “You’re sick, but you aren’t dying.”

“I have cancer, John,” you said, matter-of-factly. “I’m dying.” You turned to Hades and smiled tightly. “Let’s go.”

“You will survive that, just as you will survive Purgatory, louloudi mou.” You reached out and took Hades’ offered hand and the world swirled around you. A grey and brown forest appeared. “There is an exit. To the South, there is an exit, just for humans to escape Purgatory. Find Dean and take him to the door.”

You nodded, adjusting your backpack straps and looking around. “Thank you so much.”

“This land is filled with monsters, Y/n. Care for yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.”

As Hades disappeared, you took a deep breath, hoping that you could calm the intense feeling of being watched. As you looked around the trees surrounding you, you knew that feeling was going nowhere, because you were being watched by every set of eyes in Purgatory.

[raayllum]

Cube Hostage Exchange Theory :: End of Days

Because I like nothing more than to organize things accordingly and my brain needs something to focus on for the final few days before the season drops and we get answers to a lot of questions (or at least, a lot of the questions this theory has attempted to answer over the past two years) I thought, “Hey Dragons, why not do your best to compile and breakdown literally every single piece of evidence there is for Cube Hostage Exchange Theory, just in case you’re right and want something to fondly look back on?” 

(And also because I know I won’t have the same motivation to make this post if I’m wrong, but making this post sounds like fun for one last hurrah for myself and the little CHET posse this theory has, somehow, fondly amassed). 

So here it is. 

My end of days, final presentation of Cube Hostage Exchange Theory (otherwise nicknamed as CHET), all that it encompasses, and all that it could inspire, what’s been added to it over time, and why I think it has a decent shot at being what happens in the S4 finale. As well as a little indulgent walk down history / memory lane for me because I started posting about it two years ago, and I do what I want.

What is CHET?

A theory that proposes the S4 finale / current climax with Claudia, Aaravos and co. will threaten Rayla’s life in order for Callum to hand over the Key of Aaravos, thus allowing him to fully break free of his prison and putting the world at risk as a result, specifically in holding her hostage.

I first posted about it on September 21st, 2020 (a couple weeks after Through The Moon graphic novel got released) as just an idea and then made a proper theory post about a month later on October 26th, 2020. 

It is my little bonbon and I think it is very neat. As you can see, it was an exceeding simple plot structure modelled to be a finale or final 3 episode prediction (4x07-4x09) for the end of the season, with very little speculation of what would happen in the build up to it besides 1) Callum having to learn about Aaravos in order to know what he was risking and 2) Callum and Rayla getting a chance to hash out some of their emotional baggage even if they hadn’t wholly resolved it. 

The original theory post itself touched on some concepts that will be repeated down below, such as the idea that the hostage exchange would ideally 1) not be Rayla and Callum’s first reunion, 2) the series’ intrinsic concept of Exchange, 3) why failure is necessary for Rayla but not a punishment, 4) how her lack of self worth manifests, and perhaps most importantly, 5) how Callum is always instrumental in breaking her cycles.

The theory has since grown to encompass many others as well as a plethora of evidence I stumbled upon, first accidentally and then with a more purposefully keen eye, in terms of foreshadowing, set up, and parallel / cyclical episode structures that TDP loves to utilize and has utilized before. Again, more on that at the bottom.

What made me first think of it?

Simply put, it just seemed the most straight forward route that would also yield the biggest dramatic consequences for character and for story. Post-TTM Rayla was racing right towards Aaravos without even knowing, Callum has something called a Key, Aaravos wants to escape his prison. Thus, it would give Callum a clear hand in how the plot would move forward and fit with some of the more dubious choices he’d made before. I also liked the way it could conceivably offer up a pathway for Rayla and Callum’s emotional arcs; for Rayla, it’d be an unexpected hammer to her own perception of her self and her self worth, for Callum to throw it all on the line even after she’d hurt him so terribly much; for Callum, it would give him space to be angry with Rayla but also room for a good old “Fuck everything else, I just want you to be okay” when it comes to like, offering us a strong reconciliation within the limited emotional time frame of a TV show.

Why Should Rayla Get Saved?

Rayla left in TTM because she thought Callum could handle losing her in ways she couldn’t handle losing him. This fundamentally comes down to Rayla’s self sacrificial tendencies veering into self-destructive behaviour (leaving at all) and her justifications for it being that she isn’t “good enough” to be worth fighting for / loving the way she loves others, as well as deeper issues of survivor’s guilt and possibly not feeling like she quite deserves to live and be loved.

Although I don’t subscribe to the “Rayla left out of pride” lens at all, even under it, Rayla needing to be saved seems like the most logical conclusion, otherwise how is she supposed to learn that she can’t do everything herself? 

Rayla can’t succeed in her quest to stop Viren or to fully protect Callum, lest she think what she did in TTM is “ultimately fine” just because it worked in protecting him successfully. She also can’t single handedly stop the villains only halfway through the show. Therefore, Rayla has to fail, and likely has to fail at protecting Callum by the finale specifically, as that was her worst fear. Since she went to all this effort to protect him, the biggest form of failure would be if he ends up in danger at one point because of her. However, that’s precisely why it has to happen - and why it would also hammer that point in further if he’s also saving her while he does it.

Why Can’t Rayla Just Save Callum? 

More recently there’s been an upswing in theories regarding Rayla being Callum’s guiding light out of his “path of darkness” (Callum’s promo quote) given the way the moon halos her head upon entry, her name meaning, her associations with Truth and the Moon arcanum over Aaravos’ starry deception. It is also more in line with what I thought S4 might be like pre-TTM’s release, with Callum getting in way over his head with something magical and Rayla having to help (alongside Ezran possibly) pull him back from the brink.

The light and dark motif now running more prominently throughout both their arcs is also, funnily enough, something I noticed and wrote a meta about close to five months ago back in June, which you can read the full thing here. It was something I had always appreciated about Callum and Rayla’s framing with one another throughout S1 and particularly S2 with Rayla representing the light. It was something I only started to think more on when I began to compile parallels between Aaravos and Rayla, including their names (“between light and dark” and “ray of light” respectively). 

Thus, I do think Rayla will save Callum emotionally/mentally from Aaravos in some manner at some point in the season, as that’s in line with how she keeps Callum out of his head in S1-S3. However, the other half of that pattern is Callum saving her physically, and that’s why I think the light and darkness motif feeds nicely into what I’ve also penned as the Mutual Salvation Theory originally in August 7th, 2022, before we even knew Rayla would be returning at all.

The question then becomes: well, what is he going to save her from? To a certain degree it’s herself, as laid out in this interview with Devon Giehl (TDP’s head writer) and Michal Schick (a staff writer) regarding Rayla’s letter:

She wants to stay because she’s in love with Callum, she wants to leave because she’s in love with Callum. And I think that’s just kinda like - Rayla’s version of love is, at this point in her life, always gonna hurt someone, including herself. Badly. 

The clearest way for this to manifest is for each of them to get a chance to reaffirm their love for one another and choose each other. Due to the symbolism baked into the trailer and the season promo, it seems pretty clear that at the very least, Rayla will be guiding Callum away from darkness at one point in the season. Thus, what’s left is for him to save her in an equally thematically and plot-driven way - thus proving her previous beliefs wrong, reaffirming his love for her, and pushing the plot along. 

This dual “I save you, you save me” plot line is an add-on to broader CHET, as that would provide Callum’s turn of things. Additionally, I think Rayla saving Callum in “guiding light” way may happen before the finale, with the finale then focusing on him saving her, for one main reason:

The Moon Arcanum

Given that the season will inevitably talk about Callum reconnecting with Rayla and the foreshadowing in previous seasons that the Moon arcanum will be the next one he connects to, it seems like S4 is the most natural place for it. This is only reaffirmed by Callum likely being tempted by Aaravos, a great deceiver, as well as the way he’s obsessed with secrets and denying parts of himself / his feelings already in 4x01, and Rayla representing the Truth, the way she always has been.

If we go along that route, then there’s the question of what would compel Callum to connect to the Moon arcanum, especially if he’s off chasing dark magic somewhat this season. Again, given the thematic and symbolic set up already in store, it will likely be him admitting out loud to himself that he loves Rayla, and always will, thus allowing him to fully see past Aaravos’ deceptions (as far as temptation goes).

However, I do not think, though, that such a triumphant note can be where the season ends. After all, we know this era of the Dragon Prince’s world is known as the Return of Aaravos, and that the Startouch elf must be broken free of his prison by the end of the season. Thus, our heroes have to fail, and I think it needs to go one step further than just failing to stop Aaravos from getting out, but of actively helping him - even if it’s against their will. 

So what would that look like, and why do I think it has to be the transfer of the Cube for Rayla?

The Cube

Paraphrasing posts I’ve made before but:

1) Without the cube being called the Key of Aaravos, it being the key to Aaravos’ prison would feel like it came out of nowhere. However, because of such a specific name, it is many people’s default assumptions and that feels purposeful. After all, if they wanted one or the other kind of associations, they could have said Hand or Eye of Aaravos, or Key of mystical sounding name here, but they specifically chose to put those associations together. The show loves to be cryptic and straightforward all at once, with warnings like “Draw your last breath” (3x07) being instructions to literally draw a breathing rune

2) One of the reasons I think the cube is related to Aaravos’ prison is precisely because it was entrusted to Callum by Harrow, the two characters most concerned thematically with the theme of Freedom through both their speeches, actions (Callum shattering the primal stone to free Zym, Callum ending Rayla’s cycles) and most notably his arcanum of the Sky. So you have Callum, who is tethered to the theme of Freedom, with a Key in his possession, Aaravos having some idea of how to get himself out of his prison if his machinations / guidance of Claudia and Viren are any clue, and Aaravos, who wants to be free of his mirror prison more than anything. 

Larger meta post here as well as some very cool similarities the Key could have to the Egyptian myth of Thoth, god of knowledge, presenting a Key of Life to Osiris, god of the underworld. 

3) The Key has been associated specifically with Rayla and her relationship to Callum above anyone else since the beginning of the series. Their first real bonding moment is her agreeing to go get it from the Banther Lodge, she risks her life to do so, and is routinely the other character (sometimes swapped in or sharing that role with Bait) that Callum discusses the cube with. Then there’s also the fact that ties into one of Callum’s consistent aspects of seeing worth in things Rayla doesn’t: appreciating Xadia’s magical nature with fresh eyes (1x05), seeing worth in the Cube (1x04, 1x05), and indeed, Rayla herself (1x05, 3x04). Rayla’s language surrounding the key is also very interesting, but we’ll talk about more of that in the next point, which is:

4) Back in early December 2021, I made a post documenting what I’d noticed of the consistent way the Cube was referred to as a game piece or Aaravos playing a game. (Just for frame of reference, this was almost precisely 6-7 months prior to Aaravos holding Viren like a game piece in the SDCC intro trailer). 

Also keep in mind that Viren asks Aaravos once, and only once, if he’s playing a game. The rest of this coding is done through Rayla alone as a character: “It’s a toy. It’s piece from a children’s game,” “It’s a glow toy” and then “Are you practicing magic or are you losing a game?” which now seems like very overt S4 foreshadowing. 

This also played into what I had noticed in terms of the likelihood of games and tests being intertwined, as they often are in mythic stories or folktales, and this statement from Aaravos felt like something that had to come back in some way (and already has for Claudia as a character, circa end of 3x09). 

Playing a game (particularly chess) against Death or the devil for your soul is common and fit neatly together. The marketing for S4 has only reaffirmed this with lines like “They’re not games. They’re tests” from Soren’s short story. 

Aaravos has offered a test of love to one pawn, in Claudia, first tasking her with reviving her father, and now stretching it further to see what she’s willing to do to keep Viren alive. Viren, who was already dead, just as Rayla comes from a culture in which she is already dead and seen as a Ghost. It doesn’t feel like a stretch to presume Aaravos will give Callum his own Test of Love to either pass or fail, and given that Claudia’s have all related to Aaravos’ main priority of getting out of his mirror, Callum’s likely will too. Especially since it seems like Claudia’s motivations for helping Aaravos may change drastically in S4... but more on that later.

What Does CHET Provide Narratively?

Arc 1 of TDP was largely concerned with “How can we fix our parents’ mistakes?” However, as the world grows more complicated and characters more complex as a result, it is likely Arc 2 will ask, “How can we fix our own mistakes?” This requires mistakes to be made, of course: for Rayla, the continual fallout of her leaving, and for Callum, inadvertently helping Aaravos successfully escape his mirror - and then more so by choice (or under coercion, depending on definition). 

This ties into the way Callum often breaks Rayla’s cycles that she’s trapped in whether through her choices, circumstances, or both. By shattering the primal stone, he frees Rayla from her literal and metaphorical chain of her binding. He inspires Rayla to break the cycle in 2x07 and then does his one dark magic spell to break the chains that Rayla’s swords cannot. He breaks the literally circular pendant from Rayla (and Ethari), weighed now with grief and remembrance, in order to see her free to make her own choices.

Which is to say that Rayla is repeating all four of her parents’ most damaging behaviours and cycles, has likely come back with the intention of protecting Callum (with little to no regard to her own well being) and still believing in the idea that she has a price to pay in order to be happy, and all these damaging beliefs need to be broken. If Rayla is going to save Callum from making the full mistakes of his predecessor, in some ways, isn’t it only right that he saves her right back and does the same?

After all, let’s talk about

Paying the Price

This line from 4x01 immediately stood out to me in a major way for a few reasons: 1) this is the first time Callum has ever directly referenced paying the price in such a manner; Ezran (1 time), Rayla (multiple times), Viren (1 time), Harrow (multiple times), and Claudia (1 time) are previously the only characters to do so and Claudia’s is the one comedic exception to how the phrase is usually delivered. 2) It is also the phrase used in the season synopsis, directly asking the question of, “But where did this enigmatic Startouch elf come from? What does he want? And what price will our heroes have to pay to stop him?”

We know, of course, that they won’t stop him. We know then, that ultimately, there is a price they are not willing to pay to stop him. We know, thanks to the series extreme dedication to emphasizing agency, that they rarely let characters off the hook when it comes to making hard choices, for ex: it would’ve been so comparatively easy for Harrow to not know what Viren planned to do ahead of time to the egg and for him to find out after the fact, but instead we see that Harrow knew and approved of Viren ultimately murdering a child. 

If Callum has the cube (or whatever Aaravos needs from him) just tricked/ conned out of him, it removes what would ultimately be the hardest choice he’d have to make. If it’s taken from him forcefully, he’s failed yes and made a bad choice, but again, removes the actual hand over from the equation. When has TDP ever not forced a character to make a hard decision, after all? To choose the harder path and be aware of it, or to pick a different path and convince themselves it’s the right one? Why would Callum and everyone else suddenly be let off the hook now?

And while it’s supplementary material, so we can take it with a grain of salt, but this also ties into how Callum’s Devotional and Liberty (highest) attributes are described in his Tales of Xadia bio:

“I value those close to me more than anyone or anything” and “I’m beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom” respectively

This also ties back to the perpetual trolley problem, if you will, that TDP returns to time and time again, with situations only getting worse and escalating when the dignity of an innocent or one life is disrespected and tossed over for “the greater good,” particularly without their consent. 

Even after her growing bonds with Ezran and 2.5 seasons of character development, we see Rayla consider her choice to spare Marcos to be a mistake (circa 3x03 with Ethari):

R: I failed them. It was my fault we were discovered.

This is particularly true given that Rayla’s original failure was when she was on a mission to a kill a prince and king of Katolis, and she takes on a similar literal and metaphorical mission in TTM as well: killing / leaving one prince of Katolis (symbolically) by taking a piece of his heart (“My heart for Xadia”) just like the Magma Titan while setting out to actually kill a king of Katolis (Viren) that we know she will ultimately fail in.

Which is to say that the “You saved her life and risked us all” is an interesting concept the series has returned to, most particularly in Callum’s foil relationship with Viren. Their primary difference is contrasted starkly back-to-back in 1x02, when Viren offers up guards’ lives in exchange for Harrow’s but hesitates to offer up his own, whereas Callum offers up his own for Ezran’s without hesitation. Ergo, Viren offering up other people’s lives is decidedly shadier because he takes time to come around to offering up his own. But we already know Callum would die and bend his morals for Rayla.

Could he really bring himself to go through with his plan? What if he didn’t succeed? What if he compromised his beliefs and it all ended up being for nothing? […] But her blade bounced off with a clang, sparks flying. She reeled back and tried again. Nothing happened. She was in trouble. He inched towards Claudia’s [spellbook]. (S2 novelization of 2x07)

So him exchanging the cube would not be risking anything of anyone he’s not prepared to risk of himself, creating a messy but understandable justification, and it’d validate the hell out of Rayla’s own ‘original sin’ in sparing Marcos. Life and living is about more than just numbers and survival - and saving her, weighing her life against the world’s and picking her anyway, is not only a classic hero dilemma, but something that would carry a particular amount of weight in the series as is. 

This also ties back into the series’ intrinsic concept of exchange, including but not limited to:

Killing Harrow and wanting to kill Ezran in exchange for Avizandum and Zym’s believed murders

Viren’s plan to exchange one soul for another’s with Harrow in 1x02 that was originally Claudia’s idea

Callum trying to take Ezran’s place to save his little brother in 1x02

Dark magic as an entire principle, exchanging the life of magical creatures for power or agency

Soren killing one king to protect another (3x09)

The entire goal of taking Zym back to his mother in the first place, in hopes that they can deliver a baby dragon in exchange for peace

So why not have that thematically continue through Rayla’s life being exchanged for the cube and exchanged for war?

But this is all more abstract narrative and thematic stuff with some cyclical analysis and nods towards characterization and arcs. Now it’s time to get to the real meat of the theory, which is:

Parallel Episode Structures 

So TDP likes to do this thing, with Callum and Rayla’s arcs in particular, but also with the show as a whole, where they will repeat episode / character conflicts while steadily changing the circumstances and raising the stakes in order to reveal character and spur character / plot development. And they do this especially with plot structure.

Examples of what I mean: In 1x03, Callum chooses staying with Ezran over saving his father, and Rayla chooses the egg and princes and fights Runaan as a result. Both of them, unknowingly at the time, lose their adoptive fathers that night. Then, 2x03 and 3x03 each deal with the fallout of those respective choices they made, processing grief and regret over their losses. 

Or, to get even more specific, I’ll offer up what I call the “Rayla saves a dragon quartet” in which Rayla wants to do something brave but dangerous / self-sacrificing in order to protect a dragon, Callum has reservations, and their dynamic steadily evolves to the point that he goes from worrying but not being able to do anything to jumping right after her. AKA 1x03 on the rooftops, 2x07 in the rain, 3x08 with the Dragon Queen, and 3x09 with Zym. 

Or to get even more specific, I’ll offer up the “Rayla is trying to hide her own pain, Callum tries to get her to open up three times with her nastily rebuffing him each time, then she has a breakdown in the face of his unconditional love, and something bad happens to Zym as a result of them being distracted.” Am I talking about 1x06, or 3x04?

Which is to say, if CHET goes along with the “Callum goes too far and does something reckless / dangerous in relation to Aaravos, Rayla pays the consequence and gets taken hostage, Callum / the boys come to save her, he gets her out in a way she has understandable issues with, and ends with a note of ‘I hope it was worth it to you, putting everyone’s lives in danger,’” it will be a perfect inverse of 1x04. And we know 1x04 was written with an endgame in mind, given the mention of the cube being in the game room, as well as Callum saying things like, “You wait here, one minute, two minutes - however long it takes, I’ll go find a key.” 

After all, much like they could have had Callum resolve to do dark magic in 2x07 without harkening back to his crush on Claudia to foreshadow his growing feelings for Rayla, there were infinite ways to write 1x04 that did not have Rayla being the one to find and risk her life for the cube. They could have easily had Callum or even Ezran stumble upon it, grab it, and have Rayla get caught looking for it or just not moving stealthily enough around the room when Amaya catches her. They could’ve had the boys go into the Lodge together with Rayla hanging back (as they’re human and wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows), but she can’t exactly leave without them, but no. The show chose this very specific plot structure, and we’ve yet to see it entirely repeat in full. And with 4x01 paralleling 1x01 very closely (Soren letting slip the king is in trouble, Callum wanting to help, king and high mage discussing Moonshadow assassins on balconies), and with 4x02 possibly paralleling Rayla’s return with callbacks to 1x02, I think this future repetition of 1x04 is only getting more and more likely.

Then you also have the ways that, if Callum transfers the cube - something magical and powerful, something he’s fixated on - and ‘sacrifices’ it for Rayla, it’s another perfect inversion to how he shattered the primal stone to save Zym in 1x09, thus unleashing a storm onto the world but for good reasons, and for a peaceful purpose. Again, if we look at Zym as one piece of the exchange for peace, then unleashing Aaravos in another terrible sort of metaphorical ‘storm’ is the perfect inversion that an even greater era of war and conflict is on the way. 

The show has had smaller 1x09 parallels - Callum trusting Ezran rather than doubting him (3x07); Rayla almost going off the cliff to save Zym before she actually does so in 3x09; and in terms of Callum sacrificing the primal stone is a good example of how he’s let go of some of his 1x04 fuelled fixation for the time being. But they’ve also shown Callum repeat his old mistakes when he goes out into the storm in 2x04, in which he says, “I put us both in danger. I could’ve gotten Zym killed” yet “Worst of all, when we were right there in the centre of the storm - I thought I wanted this badly enough but in the end, I didn’t have the guts.” He still considers the worst part of the experience to be his lack of a magical connection.

Then there’s the way that post-TTM has lined up well with 2x07, episode wise. Again from a structural standpoint: Rayla feels compelled to do something, Callum wants to help her, she goes off alone, he hangs back with Ezran feeling helpless and frustrated before he ultimately goes after her, bending/breaking his morals and engaging with Dark Magic to do so. The big differences is that Rayla has gone from saying it’s okay if he can’t come with her to telling him not to, and that rather than resolve to find her on his own, Rayla has returned to him first. But up until her return, the structure was intact, so I’ll be curious to see if the second part of the episode comes true too. Possibly - in an alternative way - with Callum doing dark magic in general, or with him specifically handing over the cube. 

If you are interested more in how TTM parallels 2x07 itself specifically, setting up a reconciliation plot structure for Rayllum in S4 reminiscent of 2x08-2x09, check out this larger meta here.

Orpheus and Eurydice Motif

So we know that Rayla and Callum are going to get separated thanks to this screencap from the trailer with two main options: 

1) it’s a fakeout and they’re reunited shortly afterwards, finally reconciling, or 2) it’s not a fakeout, and part of the finale, 4x09, “Escape from Umber Tor” following the fallout of 4x08 “Rex Igneous” is about getting her back. Given that Aaravos has been compared to Lucifer and that “Umber Tor” means Shadow Tower, if Rayla was taken to a shadowy place high on a mountain or deep below the ground... It’s a pretty good Underworld allegory, and the show has given this to Rayllum before in which Rayla travels to their version of the Underworld, her Orpheus - a magically inclined artist per the mythos - goes after her, and unlike in the myth, he manages to successfully save her. Sort of. Since, as we know, the end of TTM still results in a tragic separation for our two lovers. 

This is also similar structure wise to Rayla facing certain death in 3x09 by tackling Viren off the Pinnacle, Callum jumping after her, and his love for her unlocking new magical power so he can save her. Again, this meta of Callum and Rayla as Orpheus and Eurydice goes into greater detail, but I think it’s interesting it’s a pretty specific pattern we’ve seen happen two times, and now the question is if we’ll see it happen as a third. Especially since as the musical Hadestown paints it so eloquently 

TTM has just been the mythic structure fulfilled both happily and tragically, with Rayla choosing — in many ways — both metaphorically and literally, in risk taking to go back to the Underworld. Callum is then reaching a double crossroads. Does he follow her down into hell, again? And in other ways, this is arguably the first time he’s being tested. For so much of s1-s3, and even in TTM, saving Rayla was a no brainer. Whatever chance he had, Callum had zero hesitation, zero misgivings. In his heart and in his mind, he had no reason not to.

Now, thanks to TTM, there is a seed of doubt. And just like with Orpheus cutting a deal with Hades out of love to get his wife back, Aaravos may cut a similar deal with Callum as his own Test of Love.

[ORPHEUS, spoken] Mr. Hermes? [HERMES, spoken] Yes? [ORPHEUS] It's not a trick? [HERMES, spoken] No, it's a test

Speaking of which, let’s finally talk about Aaravos’ hand in all this - as well as foil relationships and contrasts with Viren and Claudia.

Pawns and Kings 

Once S3 wrapped up, I figured that Rayla and Claudia’s foil relationship would be amped up further, now that they had nearly matching white hair, and I always thought that Rayla’s paranoid and restless behaviour would return in a significant way prior to TTM. Now they’ve both destroyed their lives for Viren - Claudia to save him, Rayla to kill him - in the two year timeskip and are dealing with the fallout of those decisions. 

While the Viren-Callum parallels going into S4 are massive, and are undeniably the biggest foil relationship this season, I think ultimately the conclusions on their arcs will be regarding their differences, given lines that Viren has said of, “We must be ready to sacrifice, even the things we love,” while if Callum picks Rayla over the world, he will be steadfastly and repeatedly rejecting that in his arc, while Viren may catch up too late that he has unintentionally sacrificed Claudia for his goals. 

I went into more detail on it here a few weeks ago, but now that we have confirmation from a few reviews of the first four episodes of season four, it seems I was right to think that Viren is getting an atonement arc, regretting what he’s done and specifically what Claudia has done for him as a result of it. This would perfectly parallel the sort of Rayla arc also needs to have, of realizing the full weight and why of her previous mistakes and realizing she was wrong. After all, she and Viren are both “already dead” - metaphorically and literally, respectively. 

Meanwhile, Callum and Claudia have been set up to have mirrored arcs as well, as they get pulled deeper and deeper into Aaravos’ machinations as his two latest pawns. We will presumably see him manipulate both of them this season in order for them to help get the pieces in place to release him from his mirror. Claudia and Callum have, in their relationships with Viren and Rayla, already had parallel Tests of Love in 3x09 - saving their loved one from the brink of death in a powerful display of magic - and are set up to have parallel Tests of Love regarding lies and forgiveness in S4.

However, where I think this season will end up seeing Claudia and Viren split from one another - her angry that he “doesn’t understand or appreciate” all she’s done for him thanks to his re-evaluation that maybe he should stay dead, his life not worth the toll it’s taken on the world and her (and that he’s right this time) - that leads the way for the finale’s Test of Love to be Callum and Rayla in so many ways, as Callum saves Rayla from being “already dead” - and he’s right to do so, even if it’s still a hard choice. 

This would allow Viren and Rayla to be strangely ideologically aligned, Viren in a positive way for his arc, Rayla in a negative way in her arc, in believing that when Callum shows up that

More meta on Rayla and Viren’s parallels here, as well as Rayla as Aaravos’ inverse to Callum’s Viren. 

Furthermore, this scenario gives all the characters place to work from in future seasons: Claudia can fall deeper into villainy now truly unhinged thanks to being “abandoned” by her father and as Aaravos’ next future pawn to discard (almost a la Ozai and Azula in ATLA, as Claudia has been compared to Azula by co-creator Aaron Ehasz in the past), Viren must work with the heroes who have no reason to trust him but to who he can provide infinitely valuable information, Aaravos keeps him alive in a “reap what you sow” esque punishment, Rayla can possibly start looking for her parents properly and will have a new kind of self worth, and Callum has a goal to reclaim the cube, help Rayla, develop his Moon arcanum magic, and defeat Aaravos once and for all. 

Since, after all, Callum is the King that Aaravos needs to get out; the final pawn in this stage of manipulations. 

Checkmate

More than a game of strategy, Chess is a game of sacrifice. I’ve played for most of my life and typically, games come down to making sure you sacrifice the right pieces (pawns) in order to protect your more important pieces, particularly your Queen and of course, your King. Aaravos’ relations to chess have been repeated over and over again, as well as Checkmate referring to him winning the game and getting out of his mirror by the end of the season which again, we know is happening this season. 

If you are interested in reading more about TDP’s chess symbolism, check out this meta in which I break it down for the main cast of characters. Terry is not included as we didn’t know he’d be in the season before I wrote it, and as we still know very little about him, I’m not sure where I’d place him (although maybe as a Rook or Bishop or something). 

Moreover, one of the most important rules in a chess game is that if a pawn reaches the other end of the board, you can swap it in for one of your more important taken pieces (which will almost always be your Queen if you’ve lost her). 

And again, the chess metaphor works particularly well because in a game of strategy and sacrifice, Aaravos has to find the thing the heroes aren’t willing to sacrifice; the price they’re not willing to pay. Per the chess metaphor and characteristics of the pieces, although I considered other options as I went along, Rayla fits the characteristics / placement of the Queen piece the best and Callum as the King piece.

It is for all these narrative reasons and more that I think it is very likely that, if not taken hostage directly, Rayla will at the very least be what’s used to coerce Callum into having an almost equal hand in freeing Aaravos as Claudia (also giving her some wiggle room to potentially come back from, if she does it out of spite or if she thinks if she ignores Viren’s wishes and ‘fixes’ the problem he’ll change his mind, like she thought she could with Soren in 2x08/9 in some ways). 

After all, if the emotional payoff of TTM isn’t going to be Callum looking for her, there still has to be a counter-balance / reason behind her absence. What better reason could there be than “I lost her once. I’m not going to lose her again” with his grief in the two year absence providing his emotional, plot driven justification as Callum does everything he possibly can to get her back?

Now, onto my favourite part: the foreshadowing. 

The section is what I call the “this feels like direct setup” with some repeats of what we’ve seen before as well. The next section will be about generational stuff including parents, character designs, cycles, etc. The third section is stuff I think is possibly less likely foreshadowing, but I like it, so I hope it is, called “Be foreshadowing, do it for me.” Hope you enjoy!

Misc. Foreshadowing #1: Heavily Likely

Who the hell is Aaravos saying his “My return to this world is inevitable” and why Rayla is a real candidate to be who it is being delivered to.

Callum rejecting the cube in 2x08 when Harrow reminds him that he’s free VS Callum handing over the cube in 4x09 because Rayla isn’t

They said that, sometimes, we make sacrifices so that the ones we love don’t have to. It’s part of protecting them—part of protecting you. Taking on hard choices and going to dark places is an act of love.

Generational Parallels 

If Callum is rageful against Viren, that cements the other half of the Viren-Avizandum intro parallel, as that is a moment in which Avizandum is not only separated from his child, but hunted due to taking away the love of King Harrow’s life, Queen Sarai. Just as Rayla is repeating Runaan’s cycles (down to her one silver shoulder pad design that is a smaller version of his), it would not surprise me if Callum began to repeat Harrow’s. If you want the in depth version of this theory, check out this tag here, but I think the screencaps speak decently well enough for themselves, don’t you?

Rayla and Runaan’s parallels are also particularly important as due to his stubbornness and duty, Runaan was taken captive by Claudia to be used by Viren specifically in regards to the mirror, and Sarai ultimately died saving Viren’s life.

There are also Callum’s parallels to Runaan to consider (down to the hostage situation in Bloodmoon Huntress) as well as Rayla’s parallels to Harrow.

Misc. Foreshadowing #2: Please be foreshadowing, do it for me

Rebuttals 

Don’t have a lot of interest in discussing negatives, however as the theory gained a lot of traction in the past 3 or so months, there were some issues people had with it, namely: doesn’t it reduce Rayla to a damsel in distress, isn’t it predictable, and why would Rayla forgive Callum for this in the end, all of which I’ve laid out ‘rebuttals’ to over time. If you have for some reason made it all the way down here in this post while still having reservations, one of these metas may remedy them for you - or maybe not! Either way, I think they’re an interesting read.

Rayla is not a damsel in distress

Predictable

Why would Rayla be okay with this in the end?

Other Misc Thoughts

Romeo and Juliet comparisons (thanks, Viren’s VA)

The Way Rayla Has Always Been Set Up as Both Callum’s Salvation and Destruction

Rayllum’s parallels to Aaravos’ “Patience” story (which relates to their overall dynamic I think)

Callum and Rayla always liking/loving each other “too much” than is good for them / Callum as an Icarus figure (boy with wings who flies too close to the literal or proverbial sun)

Why the cube can’t just be positive / Why Rayla’s absence can’t just be positive

TTM / S4′s ATLA Comparisons and Parallels

TDP and Tarot: Rayllum as the Lovers and Aaravos as the Devil

Adam and Eve Comparisons

Alternatives

So let’s just say I’m wrong and all of this foreshadowing, meta, etc. has been for nothing? Cool! I had a good time writing it, theorizing with other people, writing my own fics, and immensely enjoyed reading other people’s fics regarding the theory as well. I have donned my clown wig before with far less reason to and with far less fun as a result, so I’ll have no regrets if that ends up being the case here.

However, and this is what I’ve always come back to in terms of wracking my brain and narrative for this theory is that even with less than one day to release, I have never seen an alternative theory that actually answers all the questions this one has set out to, namely:

What is the Cube?

How do Callum and Rayla ultimately reconcile?

How does Aaravos get out of his mirror?

At least, not all at once, and not in a way that offers up tangible arcs for characters past-S4 either, or in arcs that feel feel a little bit less effective. Now, if Callum loses the Key just out of his own foolishness, that means the finale arc is just a mad dash to try to get it back, which the team will ultimately fail at, but that almost feels like too big of a punishment for something he was so heavily manipulated into (I think he’d have more guilt over that than if he’d made an actual Choice under coercion, y’know?). If the key isn’t crucial to getting out, then why highlight it so much this season? If Callum’s finale arc is just about resisting temptation, than how does that lead to Aaravos getting out — isn’t that too positive a note to end on, and a bit too repetitious of 2x08 if it’s that simple, arguably? And again, it feels like this season has to start addressing the dark side of Rayla’s self sacrificial tendencies and start edging towards fixing them (ergo her realizing she has worth) since it was all those issues compounded that made her leave in the first place?

So perhaps our closing note is to say that, although it’s not as though there are no real alternatives to CHET, there are none out there that currently find answers for what to do with all the pieces on the board and how to achieve the outcome we know S4 is spiralling out to, and that is why for all these reasons, I am very hopeful and excited that I may be right going into S4, for each and every reason provided above.

Happy last day of hiatus, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[lake-archive]

Chapter 41 - Being In Love

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Series: Alte Liebe Rostet Nicht

Characters: Nyeli, Arashi Narukami, Anja-Sophia 'Ann' Wolff (OC), Izumi Sena (mentioned)

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Things have drastically changed, to say the least. Sisnya seemed to do so much better these days, in a much better mood. He even noticed proper lunch boxes being around and the bags under her eyes were slowly fading. Her mood was more chirpy and she came off as less and less sluggish the more days passed. It was great to see and it made him a very happy kitty. It has been years since Sisnya was this happy. She even played with Nyeli more often and did her work with even more vigor. And when it came to the process of her stories, he got to read something almost daily! And he enjoyed it a lot, to the point he always begged Papa to read them. Even if it took waking him up, it was worth it for the kitty. He loved hearing the tales she came up with after all. And he could draw illustrations based on them too! He was looking forward to chapters on the daily! The last time Sisnya had such a flow was years ago so this was an exciting time! 

And yet, why could that be the case now of all things? That was a question the kitty investigated for some days now, ever since Brothnya moved right into her home. The change creeped in, to say the least, yet the more days passed the more visible it became. Sisnya was so happy recently, it was hard to put into words. Nyeli did not understand it at first of course, it could be literally anything. Maybe a good grade? Passing classes with flying colors? Or winning a jackpot and expanding on her merchandise collection of small figures and plushies. It was sure complicated, to say the least, and made the cat’s own head nearly hurt and burn. 

That was until he connected the dots, thanks to his Papa a bit. After all, he had pointed out the following one day: “Secchan and Ann–Chan.. They sure are getting close recently, aren’t they?”

It clicked at that moment in Nyeli’s brain. A light bulb suddenly lit up, almost literally, and things started to make sense! Somewhat. It had to do with Brothnya! Yeah, he was the source of this. How he didn’t know but the cat did his research. He tried to read some things on his own but if it got too complicated he made sure to ask anyone. Papa or one of his uncles.

However, the one who gave Nyeli the most insight had to be Auntie Arashi. She was always eager to help so Nyeli was never afraid to approach her with any type of question. So he asked if she could read some of Sisnya’s writing or some articles Nyeli randomly clicked on here and there. Needless to say, her face always lit up with excitement, especially when reading Sisnya’s little stories.

“Oh my, oh my~ Someone is lovestruck.”Auntie once pointed out with a chuckle, eyes sparkling. It only made the kitty tilt his head in slight confusion yet luckily for him she continued talking. “This knight over there reminds me a lot of Izumi–Chan. And how he is portrayed… Very flattering~”

It sounded a little confusing at first. What does that have to do with anything? And he would not hide this confusion, only looking at his aunt with a tilted head, ears wagging non stop. She noticed right away and smiled when looking at Nyeli, having a quick response. Though that is expected from auntie. She knows a lot about those things!

“It’s just a thought but maybe Ann–Chan is trying to express her feelings, you see. She might be too shy to say anything or be afraid. I’m not blaming her, given Izumi–Chan sometimes.”

“Nye?” 

“I mean, wouldn’t you agree? You can feel the emotions rushing through, the desire to come closer, an obvious longing. I can feel the tension myself, it is so lively~”

He was wondering for a second if she had just been exaggerating but he remembered something Sisnya loved to tell him when he had conversations with her about art, or when he overheard her talk about it.

“ You can get to know a person when taking a closer look sometimes. Maybe I just love it too much but reflecting on my work helped me a few times. ”

To Sisnya it seemed like a throwaway line but Nyeli took it to heart, always looking through his drawings to see what he could discover and his own findings were interesting. Sometimes he had not thought about these things actively if at all. So what auntie said started to make sense the longer he thought about it. Something not even Sisnya knew yet is trying to express… That or she is just hiding it too well. So it ended with him nodding and wagging his tail eagerly. Auntie Arashi was smart!

The only thing left to do was ask Sisnya. Maybe she was just trying to mask it or she needed someone to give her a bit of a nudge. And this time he wanted to be the one to help her. After all, Sisnya did so much for him, this was the least he could do for her. So he made it quick by tapping on her arm a few times after having scribbled something on a few papers, then holding them up for her to see.

She of course turned to Nyeli, about to ask what was wrong but went silent when reading and then seeing the two sheets of paper. He couldn’t see her reaction though sadly yet the silence meant a surprise in one way or another at the very least. 

One of the images was a simple sentence, something he was able to make out easily as he read the sentence over and over. Plus auntie told him what it meant. 

‘ Are you in love? ’

To top it off he drew Sisnya and Brothnya, or simplified versions of them together, hand holding and putting in every imagery he could. Best way to get it across was with a heart after all. He had learnt this from Auntie as well! She knew so much too after all! But back to the topic…

There was silence for a good few moments, Sisnya not saying a word. It allowed Nyeli to take a peek from behind the paper, wanting to see her face. It was all red and eyes wide, mouth nearly open. He swore that he saw some sweat too while she was shaking in her seat, even if very slightly.

Usually he would panic, afraid that she had caught a cold if not a fever. However, in this context it was different. 

“ You see, when you ask someone directly you might see them warming up! Or all red. On top of that they will probably be very nervous. Needless to say, it might be a sign! Especially if they were fine before! ” Auntie Arashi’s wise words! 

With those in mind there was only one option for Sisnya. She was a terrible liar after all, literally. Or at least she had a hard time hiding things when she really had to. She was like an open book to people, even when lying. So Nyeli got his answer. But what about her? Could she admit it to him? He will see in a moment, given how eager he looked. He wanted the answer right here, right now! Does Sisnya love Brothnya? It’s all too obvious but—

“Haha, that’s a cute drawing Nyeli.” She responded, him so close to pouting. He believed that she wanted to avoid the topic yet she added the following: “But no, there’s nothing going on between Izumi and me. Yeah, nothing at all. We are just friends.”

As if trying to reassure him she even pat Nyeli on his head, accepting it of course. And yet, he didn’t like her answer at least at first. However, there is one sentence sticking with him right then and there.

“Besides, there’s no way this would ever happen. Not like I’m his type to begin with.”

She’s not denying it. So auntie may have been onto something after all.

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