#we don't know what his rarity is yet

[aha-chuu]

Alhaitham and Kaveh's dynamic is interesting, because I've seen a lot of people say either "oh my god Kaveh is so mean" or "oh my god Alhaitham treats Kaveh terribly". But, quite importantly imo, in this quest Paimon remarks that she "doesn't know which one of them is more problematic".

I think when considering their relationship you need to look at intention. Do Hoyo want to villainise one of their popular husnandoes as a toxic asshole? No. Even the "villain" playable characters like Childe and Wanderer are nice/funny on occasion. Kaveh and Alhaitham's interactions are intended to be humorous, to make you gasp and say "oh wow I can't believe he just said that!".

Like, during the most recent story quest, for example. Kaveh accusing Alhaitham of having no empathy when he's clearly pretty emotionally stunted and decently moral is mean. But saying "At least I'd be a fungus with empathy!" Undercuts that - it's clear neither Alhaitham nor the player are suppose to take those words seriously.

Alhaitham dismissing Kaveh's field of work with "you work yourself to death just for a smile" is so belittling, but it's a retort to Kaveh saying his scribe job is at "rock bottom" in the Akademiya. Alhaitham isn't lashing out or trying to demean Kaveh in front of others (this interaction happens after the player has "left"); he's just continuing their verbal sparring match. I think people take this jab so seriously because it can be seen as a jab at a lot of people working out of passion, but in the context of the dialogue we're not supposed to regard it so deeply.

It's also fairly clear that nobody in game takes them seriously either. Tighnari says Kaveh is "as pent up as an anemo slime" in his Alhaitham voiceline - another funny quip - and Collei details how hard it was to suppress her laughter when Kaveh was talking about Alhaitham. Nobody thinks they're genuinely bad for one another, or that getting them separated is all that crucial.

Even the interactions in this story quest are just so silly and domestic: Kaveh can't get the painting straight, Alhaitham buys ugly furniture, they're arguing about rent and drink tabs, Kaveh is doing an unfair amount of housework and Alhaitham fucks off without entertaining his own guests. it's funny, or at least it is clearly intended to be.

I've heard that in the other dubs the VAs tones are different and it makes the lightheartedness clearer. Personally I've thought since their first interaction in the AQ that Alhaitham is having fun during their quarrels, and Kaveh is just melodramatic enough to act traumatised even if he isn't truly offended.

Then when it comes to whether their dynamic is supposed to be read platonically or romantically... Well Hoyo won't do anything canon, but it's hard to argue that there is no intentionality in how their relationship is portrayed. What other character(s) has an idle animation directly referencing their relationship with another character? How many other voicelines explicitly reference two characters as a pair? Nahida's Kaveh voiceline, Collei's, Tighnari's - I'm sure there are more. "Roommates" "senior & junior" "academic rivals" -> certainly there's a case to be made that they're just very close, but Kaveh and Alhaitham getting fifteen minutes of epilogue interaction in two different quests (where none of the content is related to either quest) says something. Fanservice, quite possibly.

Also Kaveh's line "We used to be friends, but not anymore"; I've seen plenty of people interpret this as "oh we're not friends, we're dating*". I think this is fun in fanon, but on a canon level it's basically a promise by Hoyo to fix (or explain) their current dynamic. Hoyo, for all their many faults, are detail orientated enough to follow up on such a line. Perhaps it will just be in Kaveh's voicelines/character stories, but I anticipate a future event or Kaveh hangout in relation to their bond. Nothing explicit, but more exploration. It's fairly clear Alhaitham and Kaveh are popular enough characters to warrant it.

All this to say: I have lots of thoughts. I have seen people call them toxic and (while idm the drama of that in fanon shipping) that isn't really the intended case in canon. Or, at the very least, the intention is not to to take their squabbling so seriously.

[fallinallincurls]

pancakes for two, i will always love you

this is my (late) entry for demi's lowkey lovefest 2k24! thank you so much for hosting this fun little challenge @wyattjohnston!

this fic is also a belated birthday gift to the amazing @desiredposion!! inspiration struck and i had to make the most of it so i hope you love this! this was also my first time writing for nico which was so much fun.

prompt used: "don't ever stop looking at me like that."

heavily inspired by the lyrics "maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two, hash brown, egg yolk, i will always love you" from keep driving by harry styles

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 1.3k+

~~~~~

Dating a professional hockey player means that slow mornings are a rarity. Usually, Nico is up and out the door for morning skate before your eyes even open. But today, you’re lucky enough to get the extra time in bed with the man you love for the first time in what feels like forever.

As sunlights bathes the room in a subtle, but beautiful golden glow, you snuggle in closer to Nico in an effort to absorb the heat radiating from his body. His strong arms tighten around you instinctively and even though his eyes remain closed, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Morning, Neeks.”

“Mm,” He hums contently, making you giggle and you relish in the rough feeling of his scruff against your skin. You card a hand through his tousled hair, earning a soft moan in response.

“Come on, schatzi.” He murmurs, dragging out the syllables of each word as a slight smirk appears on his lips. “You know how much I like it when you play with my hair.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” You chuckle, moving your hand to his cheek just as Nico lifts his head and his gorgeous brown eyes meet yours. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the playfulness that was evident just seconds ago fading even though the identical tender smiles on your faces continue to grow.

“We don’t get to do this enough.” Nico whispers, gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. You rest a hand on his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and try to commit every detail about this moment to memory. Nothing but pure adoration rushes through your veins as you admire the beautiful man next to you.

“That’s okay. It makes these rare mornings that much more special.”

“I’m going to tell the team we can’t ever have practice until after 10 at the earliest.” Nico grins, his dimples appearing as he laughs at his own little joke.

“You have that power as captain?” You tease, pressing a kiss to his nose, his cheek, and finally his lips. Nico smiles into the kiss before deepening it for a few seconds, bringing out that familiar need for him.

“I don’t really know, but I deserve some more time with my girl so I’ll make it a rule. I don’t care what anyone says.” He mumbles against your lips, voice low and still full of sleep.

Your heart swells as you drink in the sight of your boyfriend. Nico’s eyes are sparkling with love and his sweet smile is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is a mess but somehow still looks perfect and you absentmindedly trace shapes on his shoulder, feeling the well toned muscles there. 

He is a dream. And despite all odds, you’re the lucky one who gets to love him every single day. That’s something you’ll never take for granted because you never thought you’d find someone as kind, caring and amazing as Nico.

Yet, here you are. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Nico presses another tender kiss to your cheek before pulling away like he’s going to get up.

“Hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going?” You tease him, grabbing onto his forearm in an effort to keep him in bed.

“To make breakfast?” Nico replies, more as a question than a statement. His brows knit together in confusion and the cutest look crosses over his facial features.

“Right now? We can’t stay and cuddle for five more minutes?” Nico can’t help but chuckle at the adorable pout you’re putting on display, but doesn’t give into your antics. Instead, he leans down to give you one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom door.

“Yes, right now. By the time you’re done with your morning routine, everything will be ready. I promise. We have all day to be cozy and do absolutely nothing.” He reassures you, that cheeky smile of his blossoming across his lips and bringing out his dimples again.

“Not fair, Neeks!” You call after him, that giddy feeling of happiness rushing through you when you hear his laughter floating down the hallway. After soaking in the warmth for a few more seconds, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to shower and get your morning routine done. 

And true to his word, when you enter the kitchen dressed in sweats and one of Nico’s shirts ready for a lazy day in with your boyfriend, you find the counter covered in a full breakfast spread. A mug of coffee made just the way you like it, pancakes for two, maple syrup, hash browns and eggs are all plated and ready to be enjoyed.

“Nico,” You breathe out, shock and awe evident in your voice. Nico is always doing something sweet for you, no matter how big or small, but you weren’t expecting this at all. “What is this for?”

“Just because.” Nico shrugs, a bashful look on his face. His cheeks are pink with blush and those gorgeous brown eyes are twinkling with excitement. “We don’t get many mornings together like this. I wanted to spoil you. Made all your favorites.” He admits before stealing a kiss from you and passing you a full plate he somehow put together without you noticing. 

“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can say. After all the time together, these little gestures still warm your heart and are the kindest reminders of Nico’s love for you.

“I love you too, schatzi. Now come on, let’s eat. We’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today.” Nico teases, sitting down next to you at the table. 

As you enjoy breakfast together, the two of you talk about everything and anything. Nico tells you some funny stories from practice yesterday and catches you up on all the drama about how Jack likes a girl, but won’t make a move. You fill him in on your latest project at work and how you scheduled a girls day with your best friend for later that week. 

“We’re going to check out that new bookstore in Hoboken! The one right by the restaurant we really like on the waterfront. I’m looking for the next book in the series I’m reading so hopefully they have it.”

Noticing Nico has been quiet the whole time you’ve been talking, your rambling trails off. But before you can ask what’s wrong, your breath is stolen away. Because when you take in the sight of your boyfriend, you see the fondest look on his face. One that you recognize of pure love and adoration. It’s the look of someone who has found exactly where they should be. The look of someone who has found happiness in the simplicity of spending their life with another person. 

“Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that.” You murmur, the words slipping past your lips before you even realize what you’re saying. Nico’s gentle smile just grows, his hand reaching for yours. 

“Like what?” He teases, that familiar playfulness evident through his question. 

“Like nothing else in the world matters but the love that we have. Like you’re the happiest right here with me.”

“I am the happiest with you. Always will be.” Nico whispers before pulling you in for a deep kiss. He says everything with that kiss, words aren’t necessary and wouldn’t do justice to how he feels about you. You melt into his gentle touch, smiling against his lips as everything else falls away for just a moment.

“And you’re right,” He starts when the kiss breaks, his big brown eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing else even compares to the way I love you.” 

And right then, over pancakes and coffee that Nico made you, you know he’s going to be the man you marry. The one you spend the rest of your days with. Because this kind of love is once-in-a-lifetime and you don’t want to go through life without him by your side.

[eiightysixbaby]

…and a happy new year

word count: 5.5k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your first week with eddie since his return to hawkins is pure bliss. you both decide you need to ring in the new year the right way. or, you and eddie can't keep your hands off of each other at nancy's new year's party.

author's note: this is an extra oneshot taking place right after my fic i'll be home for christmas. you don't have to read that fic to understand this, but i'd be extremely grateful if you gave it a chance.

cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT. established relationship, lots of petname usage, alcohol consumption, eye-fucking basically lol, unprotected piv (he pulls out tho), oral (f receiving), reader's nickname is 'sunny'

December 31st, 1989.

One week. Seven days. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. Six-hundred-and-four-thousand, eight hundred seconds. That’s how long it had been since you found out Eddie was home, give or take. Six of those days were spent with him as yours, finally all yours after such a long and grueling wait.

It’s New Year’s Eve, now, Christmas having passed quickly. You and Eddie had spent the time between holidays in a cozy, warm haze together. It was surreal when you woke the day after Christmas with him in your bed beside you. It was a week full of sleepovers, reacquainting yourself with the man you’d missed so much, rediscovering your most favorite parts about him. It was him stealing kisses from you basically every single chance he got, getting up in your personal space to press sloppy kisses to your cheek, or lingering pecks to your lips.

Kissing is as far as it had gone, for the meantime. That was fine, you didn’t need or expect anything more just yet, and neither did Eddie. The last thing he wanted to do was get his girl, and then fuck up by rushing things.

At least, it was fine, until right now. Until you decided to wear that outfit to Nancy’s New Year’s party. He was watching you from across the Wheeler’s basement, where you stood with Robin and Max laughing about something. A champagne flute was placed delicately between your fingers, your body relaxed. Your plaid skirt hugged your hips just right before fanning out around your thighs, the neckline of your sweater dipping just low enough to make him fantasize about what lies beneath.

He feels a little bit sick, ogling you like this. You’re so sweet, so soft, and he’s basically panting like a dog where he stands beside Steve.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’ve been eyeing him up, too — albeit more subtly. He just looks so good tonight, in his blue jeans (a rarity for him) and his sweater and that black leather jacket. The jeans might be a little too snug, hugging him perfectly in all of the right places, and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t staring at his ass each time you could catch a glimpse.

At one point, you finally catch each other trying to gawk. You giggle around your mouthful of sparkling wine, giving him a shy little wave from across the room. His smile is immediate, eyes brightening as if he hadn’t seen you in ages. He’d spent every possible second with you since Christmas. It makes your heart skip a beat, the alcohol no longer the only thing making your face feel warm.

“You guys are disgusting,” Robin teases, her arm automatically slinking around Nancy when the smaller girl comes to stand beside her. Nancy perches on her toes, kissing Robin’s cheek.

“And we aren’t disgusting?” she asks, face scrunching up adorably when Robin laughs.

“Fair enough.”

“We won’t be offended if you abandon us to go canoodle him,” Max smirks, breaking into a laugh when you roll your eyes.

“There will be no canoodling,” you say, but it’s clear none of them believe you. Not like it matters, anyways. They’re just happy for you.

Eddie beats you to it, walking over to you before you can go to him. The television plays in the corner, the news broadcast of the big ball-drop event in New York crackling through the screen. He snakes his arm around you, pulling you into his side. His warmth immediately blankets you, and you look up at him with bright eyes.

“Hi handsome,” you say.

“Hey, sugar. Come here often?” he asks, giving you a sweet-dimpled smile before he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

It’s still a little surreal, that he’s yours now. That he’s home. That you can kiss him whenever you want; that he does kiss you whenever he wants. You look over Eddie’s shoulder, watching the way Jonathan and Steve pretend to gag from their spots on the worn-out old sofa.

“Hey! I saw that!” you shout at them, giving them a playful middle finger as Eddie leans down again to kiss your head.

His grip on your waist tightens, and it makes you press your thighs together, suddenly antsy. His hand seems to sear an imprint into your skin, permanently a part of you. Your body is hot, growing more eager to have him in ways you haven’t before.

“You look like you need a refill on your drink, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his face tilted downwards at you, tipping his own glass towards yours. “Let’s go get you some more?” he nods in the direction of the staircase, grabbing your hand when you agree.

He leads you up the rickety wooden steps, into the warmth of the kitchen. There’s a large spread of food laid out on the counter, and more alcohol than your group really needs considering there’s only six of you who are of drinking age. The second you’re upstairs, and positive there’s no one else lingering nearby, Eddie has your back pressed against the countertop. His lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, and you can feel the way he smiles into it when you pull him closer.

“You look so gorgeous tonight, you know that?” he murmurs against your ear, nose brushing into your hair. “I mean, you always do, but this outfit…” he drawls. “Baby.”

His hands wander, but don’t push. His words have an edge of scandal, but yet he speaks them so sweetly. It’s a good thing Nancy’s parents and her little sister Holly are out of town, otherwise you’d be playing an extremely dangerous game right now.

Your fingers trail up Eddie’s chest, walking up up up until they reach the neckline of his sweater. You tug on it, bringing his lips to yours and making him groan.

“You’re killing me, sweets,” he says, eyes boggling like a cartoon.

The glass of liquid courage you’d consumed has you feeling bold as you bat your lashes up at him. “I want you so bad…” you hum, placing a kiss to his jawline before slipping out of his grasp and refilling your glass of wine.

He barely lets you get away, hot on your trail with his front pressed to your back as you try not to spill the whole bottle in your hand.

“Baby. I know you’re not gonna say that and then walk away from me,” Eddie says, pitiful as you slip out of his reach once more.

“It’s less than an hour til midnight, Ed. We can’t miss the ball drop,” you reply simply, a wicked smirk on your face that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing. It feels like a little game, drawing out the anticipation longer, and it drives him crazy.

Maybe the alcohol was getting to you, or maybe he really was just ethereal tonight, because your hard-to-get demeanor was almost impossible to uphold. Especially with the way he was about ready to drop to his knees and beg for you.

“Sunny, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, grabbing you from behind before you can get away, pulling you against his chest just to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Always so dramatic, Munson,” you giggle, taking a sip of your freshly-poured drink before leading him back down to the basement.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are in the middle of a riveting game of Twister, Will calling out the moves each of them will have to make. El and Max have resorted to sitting on the floor by the TV, watching the live broadcast beneath a blanket. You and Eddie join Robin, Nance, Jonathan, and Steve where they all sit on the furniture, Eddie letting you take a seat on his lap.

“I can’t believe it’s about to be 1990,” Robin scoffs, far too upset about the matter. “I just like the 80s. Something about the 90s rubs me the wrong way.”

“Well, get used to it Rob, cause it’s about to be the 90s for the next ten years of your life,” Eddie says, shaking his head when she lets out a loud groan.

You try to focus on the conversation that ensues after that, you really do, but you swear you can feel something pressing into your ass. You wiggle a little on Eddie’s lap, testing it, and then you’re sure you feel it. He’s definitely hard right now, and you’re definitely making it worse for him.

You chew at your lip, squishing your legs together as you squirm on top of him. He notices your restlessness, and he knows exactly why you can’t stay still.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he whispers into your ear, as quiet as possible as everyone else talks around you.

You don’t answer, knowing he’s just setting you up, and you almost yelp when he squeezes your hip with one hand.

“Just gotta wait till after the ball drops, baby,” he purrs, using your words from before against you. “Then we can ring in the new year the right way.”

You end up getting off of Eddie’s lap, because it’s the only way you can even attempt to focus on something that isn’t him. Jonathan had gone to join in on the game of Twister after Mike decided he’d had enough, so you distract yourself by going to watch.

He’s currently got both hands placed on near-opposite sides of the mat, pressing into the different colored circles. His feet are criss-crossed behind him, making him look a bit like a pretzel.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” he giggles when he sees you approach. “This might end badly.” His body wobbles a little as if on cue, but he straightens himself before a collapse.

“Don’t be a quitter,” you laugh. “You need to win this round, Jon! I’ve put all my money on this!” you tease, making him laugh more.

You try to keep your focus on the antics unfolding in front of you, but you can feel Eddie’s eyes on you. Drinking you in, searing two holes through the back of your skull. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of finally having him, going further than you ever have. You check the clock, noticing it’s only ten minutes away from midnight.

Just ten minutes. You can survive another ten minutes.

At least, you’re convinced you can until a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle and Eddie’s lips press a soft kiss to your neck. You asked for it, you suppose, teasing him in the kitchen. And he’s gonna make sure you’re very worked up, now. He sways your body back and forth, holding you tight. Your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, winking down at you.

“If you guys don’t get off of each other, I’m literally going to throw up,” Dustin says, peeking out from behind Lucas where they’re tangled up on the Twister mat.

“Shut it, Henderson, or I’ll knock you over right now,” Eddie threatens, slowly reaching out a hand towards the teen.

“No! NO!” Dustin screeches, making Jonathan laugh so hard he finally topples.

“Okay, I give up,” he resigns. “Shit, it’s almost midnight. I need another drink,” he says, running up the stairs to quickly refill.

Everyone shuffles closer to the television, standing close together as the hands of the clock reach twelve.

“You ready? For our first whole year together?” Eddie says softly, still standing behind you.

“More than ready,” you reply, your whole body filled with an unexplainable amount of affection. You need him.

Before you know it, there’s a countdown on the TV screen from sixty seconds, and everyone watches as the number dwindles. The group counts in unison once it gets down to twenty seconds.

Ten seconds…

Eddie’s grip tightens around your middle. You’re both smiling wide as you count backwards.

Five seconds…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

A loud and joyful “Happy New Year!” resounds from the chests of everyone in the room, Steve letting out a loud whistle. Eddie spins you around, planting a kiss on your lips. Your glass in one hand, you wrap the other arm around Eddie’s neck, letting the kiss linger for as long as it can. Your skin is set ablaze where he holds your lower back, and when he finally pulls away his eyes are big and wide.

“I love you, Sunny,” he says, taking you by surprise.

It was the first time he’d said it, in the romantic context at least. And while the love had been felt all week, you’d been waiting to hear it, straight from his mouth.

“I love you, Eddie,” you smile wide, clinking your glass with his before you both take a sip of the alcohol.

You cheers with the rest of the group, everyone happy — even Robin, despite the 80s officially being over.

Eddie lets you slip away to the girls, helping Steve clean up some of the confetti that had been thrown around the room.

“Why are you so happy, sunshine?” Robin asks, noticing the smile that won’t leave your face.

“He just told me he loves me,” you say, looking down at your feet as her and Nancy both squeal.

“Finally!” Nancy squeezes your arm, her big blue eyes squinted in delight.

You feel warm, bubbly, content. This week had felt like a dream, but the best part is that it’s all been real.

Not long after midnight, the teens set up their sleeping bags on the basement floor for their sleepover. Robin and Nancy head up to the latter’s room for the night, Steve and Jonathan opt to sleep in the living room, and you and Eddie get the guest bedroom.

He’s hot on your trail as you ascend the carpeted stairs, letting yourselves into the usually empty room and shutting the door behind you. He presses you, soft against the door before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle, despite how eager he is, his mouth slowly moving against yours. Your lips part, tongue poking out just slightly to meet his. His hands keep a firm hold on your waist, thumbs smoothing over the soft fabric of your skirt, slipping beneath the hem of your sweater and sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I love you so much. God, I love you so much,” he says, mouth against your cheek.

Your nose brushes his face, lips pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” you reply, and you can’t help but smile.

“What’re you smiling for?” he cocks a brow, lips barely able to stop kissing your face to ask the question.

“I’ve just wanted to hear you say that for so long,” you say, and he pauses. Deep brown eyes search yours, all the love in the world held in his gaze.

“Well I’ll tell you as many times as you’ll hear it, babe,” he grins, his perfectly straight teeth on display, his dimples coming out. “I love you,” a kiss is pressed to your mouth. “I love you,” another on your jawline. “I love you.”

“I need you, Eddie,” you sigh as his mouth makes its way to your neck, sucking oh so softly on the delicate skin. “I’ve needed you all night,” you say, your voice leaning into a bit of a whine.

He chuckles, pressing his front against yours. You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

“In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, same,” he says, letting his hands fully slip beneath your sweater before taking a pause. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too soon?”

“I promise I want to. I’ve thought about it all week,” you admit, looking down at the floor in slight embarrassment. He’s having none of that, tilting your chin back up to look at him instantly.

“You just tell me if you want to stop, at any point, ‘kay?” he asks, holding your shoulders.

“I will, Eddie.”

With that, he’s picking you up, placing you down onto the perfectly made bed. You lay back, head sinking into the pillow as he hovers above you, leaning down to kiss you like his life depends on it. Your hands hold his face, not wanting him to go away for even a second. He laughs into the kiss, pulling ever so slightly away.

“I can’t do much of anything if you don’t let me move, sweetness.”

You huff, giving him a dramatic pout as you let him go.

“Can I take this sweater off?” he asks you, smiling when you nod.

Slowly, the material is worked over your head, your arms lifting to allow him to pull it off. His eyes go wide at the sight of your pretty lace bra, holding your tits perfectly. You’re even more stunning than he ever could’ve imagined, and he hasn’t even seen all of you yet. His perfect girl.

His head immediately dips down, kissing your neck, down to your collarbone, his teeth stopping to toy with the pendant on your necklace. He kisses the dip between your breasts, his hands slowly creeping up to slip under the cups of your bra. Fingers squeeze your nipples gently, making a breathy moan leave your mouth.

“Eddie…” you arch your back, and he takes the hint, reaching around to unclasp the garment. He tosses it to the floor, worshiping your tits with his hands and his mouth.

He sucks on one nipple, then the other, tongue laving over the sensitive buds. Your hand finds its way to his hair, embedding your fingers into his soft curls and tugging. He groans when you do, a reaction you weren’t expecting, but it encourages you to continue. Eventually, when he’s decided he’s focused enough on your breasts for now, his mouth continues its descent.

Kisses are trailed down your stomach, below your bellybutton, right to the waistband of your skirt. Your breath hitches when he reaches that spot, your brows furrowing as you look down at him.

“Please keep going,” you whine, and he smirks at the hint of desperation in your voice.

“So eager, huh sweet girl?” he teases gently, fingers already hooking beneath your skirt to pull it down. He discards it just as he had your bra, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties to match the top piece.

You feel your cheeks get hot. You hadn’t intentionally worn a matching set; you didn’t go into the night expecting anything. But you fear it looks that way now.

Lucky for you, Eddie doesn’t notice; or if he does he doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything more precious, more beautiful.

“Baby, holy shit…” he breathes, sinking down to press kisses to your thighs.

You couldn’t count the number of kisses you’ve received tonight if you tried. He’s sure to hit every inch of your skin. His nose brushes against your clit, his hot breath fanning against your core. You know you’re soaking the lace that keeps you covered, and you can feel yourself throb for him. His mouth kisses atop your panties before he presses his tongue flat against them, so close to where you need him most. Separated only by thin fabric.

It’s cruel, the way he teases, his lips kissing over your clit before moving to your inner thighs. His teeth nip at the skin there, making you shiver when he starts to suck.

“Ed, oh my god,” you pant, your legs threatening to close involuntarily, your body so sensitive. He grips your thighs, pushing them apart more forcefully than he’d done anything so far.

“Gotta keep your legs spread wide for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, big eyes glancing up at you.

You nod quickly, feeling your slick start to pool in your panties. “Need your mouth on me, please,” you cry, grateful when you feel him tug your underwear down.

“Such a sweet girl, being so polite,” he says, pulling the lace around your ankles and feet until you’re completely ridden of your last article of clothing.

Eddie tugs off his jacket, followed by his shirt before he leans back down between your legs. He pokes his tongue out tentatively, licking a stripe up your folds. You gasp, hips bucking before his strong grip brings them back down. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue prodding inside of you, lapping up the honey that drips from your center. His nose bumps against your clit, giving you much needed friction. It takes everything in you to not grind against his face, trying keep some composure.

You’d imagined scenarios like this plenty of times, always knew Eddie would be able to make you feel good. But he’s truly unreal, you’ve never felt pleasure like this in your life. It’s been worth the wait to have him, you can say that for certain, your brain fuzzy as he devours you.

You’d think this is his last meal, the way he licks and sucks and moans as he does it. He flicks the tip of his tongue rapidly over your clit, and you have to remind yourself of where you are before a loud whine can escape you. You bite down on your fist, something to muffle your noises, to keep your actions discreet.

Eddie’s relentless, barely coming up for air as his tongue unravels you. When he does pause, he gives you a devious little grin, his chin shiny with your arousal. The sight makes you feral, primal in the way you desire him. And as much as you love the way he eats your cunt, you need more from him.

“Eddie, baby, please—” you pant, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Once you’ve got it, you feel nervous under his intense stare. “I want to have sex,” you say softly. “I need you inside of me. Like, right now.”

“My god, you’re something else,” he breathes, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

He moves to hover over you, his bare chest on full display. You let your hands run down his pale skin, fingers tracing the outlines of his tattoos. He shivers at your touch, and you can see the tented fabric of his jeans; his cock straining to be near you. His lips are on yours, his tongue working your mouth open for him as you reach down to palm him through the denim. The taste of yourself on his mouth has you throbbing for him, aching. He whimpers when you squeeze the outline of his cock, a sound you weren’t anticipating.

“I think you should take these off,” you suggest, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes blown out with lust. “Good idea.”

He shimmies out of his tight jeans, his boxers following suit. His cock springs free, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. He’s got the perfect girth, and he’s long. The head is pink and leaking for you already, and there’s a slight curve to his shaft. A vein protrudes from beneath the skin, practically throbbing.

“Oh my god…” you whisper, startling when you realize you said it out loud. He’s grinning like the devil, bending back down to kiss your cheek.

“Like what you see, huh, Sunny?” he asks, smug as ever.

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him away. “Fuck off,” you giggle, your tone holding no malice.

He does the exact opposite of what you said, invading your space once more to kiss all over your face. You laugh, making him join in with you.

“I do like what I see, for the record,” you tell him honestly, his smile turning shy. “I can’t believe you’re mine. I’m so lucky that, after everything, this is where we are now,” you continue, seeing the way his face completely softens at your sweet words.

“I’m the lucky one, I promise you,” he says. “Do I need to say it again? I love you so fucking much.”

It feels so right hearing him say those words. It feels like you’ve been saying them your whole lives, rather than just starting tonight.

“I love you,” you sigh, his body pressing against yours.

The realization of the line you’re about to cross hits you, but it’s welcomed. You trust Eddie to take care of you more than you’d trust anyone, and your heart pounds in your chest as you think about how much you want him. Your adoration for him is unwavering, and you so badly crave him.

“You ready for me?” he asks, patient as he rubs his thumb along your cheek. “Shit — do you want me to get a condom?”

“Yeah. I’m ready,” you confirm. “Don’t want you to use a condom. Wanna feel every inch of you,” you plead, biting your lip as he curses under his breath.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he chuckles, shaking his head of dark brown curls.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, letting him kiss you sweetly before lining himself up properly. You inhale deeply when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

He makes eye contact with you as he slips inside your wet walls, both of you moaning in unison at the feeling. For him, it’s the way you squeeze around his length, sucking him right in. For you, it’s the overwhelming stretch to accommodate him. It knocks the wind out of you, your eyes rolling back as he sinks in even deeper.

“Oh my god, baby,” Eddie groans, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

He doesn’t move once he gets fully sheathed inside, letting you adjust to his size. When you start to get squirmy, he knows you’re ready for more. He thrusts slowly, wanting to take his precious time with you. Wanting to be careful, to make love to you rather than fuck you like a one night stand. He wants to show you how much you mean to him.

The gentle rocking of his hips has your back arching, his cock reaching perfect depths inside of you. He hits the spot your fingers can’t, drawing breathy whines and moans of his name from your pretty lips.

“You have to be quiet, sweet girl,” he shushes, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to.”

“You just feel… s-so good, Eddie. This is everything I wanted,” you whisper, your hands clutching his back tight as he moves just a little bit faster.

The slick glide of his cock in and out, in and out has you seeing stars beneath him. Every inch of him feels divine, and he steals your breath each time he pushes back in. Your nails dig at the skin of his shoulder blades, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself quiet. His ragged breaths turn you on even more, as does the strained look on his face as he tries desperately not to cry out for you.

“Wanna ride me, baby?” he asks. “I’d love to see the way those pretty tits bounce with you on top,” he purrs, sugary sweetness dripping from his words. He wants to worship you, like the goddess you are.

You’re nodding eagerly, having already wanted to ask him if you could ride him. He pulls out, making you wince before he flips you over. With him sprawled out on the bed, now, you’re getting a full view of everything.

His cock is wet with your slick, nearly purple in color and clearly so needy. The dark patch of hair at the base is enticing, and you want to nuzzle your face into it. His balls hang heavy between his thighs, and you reach out instinctively to squeeze them.

“Fuck,” he hisses, making you smirk in satisfaction.

It could be a fun game, you think, learning how to touch him; discovering what makes him whine, what makes him twitch. You’re excited by the fact that you have all the time in the world to learn what gets him going. His body is yours to explore, to study and observe. It makes you hot for him all over again.

You straddle him, letting your wet folds glide along his length. Your palms are planted flat on his chest, wiggling your ass on top of him.

“Such a little tease,” he says, looking up at you in awe. “Look so pretty up there.”

You flush, gripping the base of his drooling cock before aligning it with your entrance. Sinking down onto him, a light and pretty whine escapes you. He watches, completely enamored as your expression changes with each inch of him that fills you. You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, he’s certain of it.

This new angle allows him to go even deeper, and it feels incredible in a different way than the previous position had. Your hands grip onto his sides, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach to ground yourself as you start to rock your hips steadily.

“Eddie…” you moan, trying to keep your voice quiet. He looks blissed out where his head rests on the pillow, his lips parted as he takes shallow breaths.

He begins to do some of the work for you, his hips meeting yours as he starts to rut up into you. You gasp, his cock hitting that perfect spot once again. Your body feels tingly, electrified. Everywhere he touches you you can feel sparks, wishing his hand could be everywhere all at once. He sets a slightly faster pace than he had in missionary, bouncing you perfectly up and down. You lean down, your chest pressing to his as you hold his shoulders for stability. Burying your face into his neck, you start to kiss and suck on the skin there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good,” he grunts, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin filling the bedroom.

Desperate for more, you let your hand worm its way between your bodies, starting to rub your swollen clit. There’s barely enough room between the two of you for it to work, but you’ve got it. Eddie, of course can feel it though.

“Whatcha doin’ there, sweetness?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

Your fingers continue their ministrations, pressing into your clit in circles. “Nothin’” you mumble, shy into his shoulder.

“Ah-ah, none of that, shy girl. Look at me,” he commands gently, tilting your chin up with a finger beneath it. He smiles wide when your eyes meet his. “Does that feel good?”

“So good, Eddie,” you breathe, cheeks blazing hot under his taunting stare. He’s smug, of course he is, because he has you so worked up you’re touching yourself to get to your release faster.

“Good. Keep doing that for me, baby, okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, wobbly as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Not too fast, but just enough to tip you over the edge.

The way his cock presses repeatedly into your sweet spot makes you see stars, your fingers moving as fast as they can go over your sensitive bud. Your mouth is agape, no sound coming out as he fucks into you.

“I love being inside of you, baby. Love everything about you,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing the side of your head.

The softness of his words juxtaposed with the absolute filthy way he’s fucking you makes you delirious, your body so desperate for release. You find it harder and harder to stay quiet, whimpers and squeaks leaving your mouth with each thrust he gives you. You’re so close, the tension in the pit of your stomach rising to a head.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?” Eddie encourages, sensing your quick approach, his honey tone of voice pushing you past your breaking point at last.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, washing over you in overwhelming waves. You clench hard around him, soaking his cock and the curls at the base of it. Nothing has ever felt better, your mind and body succumbing to sheer pleasure; being pulled right under. He pulls out just in time, ropes of his own cum spurting out over his stomach and chest.

You both breathe heavily, the sounds of each inhale and exhale the only thing filling the space around you. You shakily climb off of Eddie, sitting beside him on the bed. He reaches over, pulling tissues from the box on the bedside table. He cleans you up before he cleans himself, gingerly wiping between your thighs. He kisses you in the midst of it, lips pressed to yours as one hand grips your face.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Sunny,” he whispers. “My fucking dream girl.”

You giggle, unable to hide how smitten you are. “Such a sap, Eds,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and then some,” you say after pulling away, enjoying the way his cheeks flush pink. “In case I haven’t said it enough this week, I’m so fucking happy you’re home.”

“I’m never going anywhere ever again. It’s me and you forever, sweetheart,” he promises, laying back down and pulling you to join him.

Chest to chest, you tilt your chin up to look at him. Your noses are nearly touching, his arms wrapped around your middle; keeping you close and keeping you safe.

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you even more.”

[hey-its-jacob-lol]

JacobLOL and Kirb Presents: The Chaotic Route

*Our story begins in Equestria. Discord, The master and Lord of Chaos is up to his usual chaotic tricks annoying anyone and everyone all day long. He made the Apple family's orchard come to life and ran away from the farm. He made Twilight Sparkle's books fly around at such a fast speed that they all eventually knocked Rainbow Dash of the sky. He stuck Rarity's Mannequins onto the ceiling and he even covered Pinkie Pie's own home with a chocolate flood.

Anyway, eventually, the complaining eventually got so out of hand, or hoof, that Fluttershy had no other choice but to confront her friend.*

Fluttershy (rather annoyed): "Discccoord. What have you been up to?"

Discord: "Hoho! Why would you possibly want to know that Fluttershy? It's been pretty lacking, I must say."

Fluttershy: "Well, that's not what everypony else is saying. They're all coming up to me and complaining about the stuff you've done!"

Discord: *scoffs* "Like what?"

*Fluttershy then replied with all the antics that were mentioned earlier.*

Discord (awkwardly): "Ohhh right, that."

Fluttershy: "Yes. That."

Discord: "Oh, come on, Fluttershy! At least I didn't hurt anyone!"

Fluttershy: "No, you didn't directly. But you've could've cost both Rarity and Pinkie Pie their jobs! What would've happened then?"

Discord (muttering): "I wouldn't mind, I think I did worst to Applejack."

Fluttershy: "What was that?!"

Discord (realising): "Um, nothing!"

*Discord gave Fluttershy a big grin, and Fluttershy sighed.*

Fluttershy: "Look, Discord, I understand why you need to be chaotic. It's a part of your nature, and it keeps you alive."

Discord: "Why thank you for being so thoughtful, Flutter-"

Fluttershy: "HOWEVER... Surely, there's a better way for you to use your magic without getting on anyone's nerves."

Discord: "Hmpf! You think you know so much about being a Draconequus, don't you?"

Fluttershy: "I try my best, Discord. I try because I care about you and I know that you're now reformed, but don't forget, we do still have the Elements of Harmony, and even though it would give me a great amount of guilt, I'd have to seal you back into stone again if you were to ever go too far again."

*Fluttershy sighed as her eyes darted towards the ground. After a few awkward seconds, Discord eventually spoke up.*

Discord: "I think some ponies just need to accept that I'm still going to be somewhat chaotic."

Fluttershy: "That's not the point, Discord."

Discord (rather frustrated): "Then what is it then, Fluttershy?!!"

Fluttershy: "It's about me making sure you don't end up on the wrong side of things again, and it's also so you quit pestering my friends!"

Discord: "Oh, come on now, Fluttershy. You know they're used to it by now."

Fluttershy: "Well, maybe they are, but that doesn't make it any less annoying for them."

*Discord pouted.*

Discord: "You ponies are no fun sometimes."

Fluttershy: "It's not that we aren't fun, or that we don't enjoy your antics from time to time. It's just that there's a time and place for them. There's needs to be order at least at some points of the day. Y'know, like order."

Discord: "You mean the one thing I truly go against? You ponies really care about your harmony, don't you?"

Fluttershy: "I mean, it's been around our culture for so long, it's bound to."

Discord (muttering): "Right..."

*Discord lowered his head.*

Discord: "You do everything you can to fit in, and yet you still can't."

Fluttershy: "Discccoord. Don't be like that. I'm your friend and so is everyone else."

Discord: "But you don't know what it's like to be me and unless I actually turn you into a draconequus, which I don’t even know if that's possible, you'll never know."

*Discord then lifted he head, as he looked into sky.*

Discord: "That's why I enjoyed being around that jester, Jevil. He, too, was a creature of chaos. He understood me and my own struggles for freedom. Sadly, I haven't really heard much from them since I was kicked out of his little group while you and the others were fighting them."

Fluttershy: "Do you miss Jevil then?"

*Discord sighed.*

Discord: "Yes."

Fluttershy: "Well, why don't you try making up with Jevil? That could help make you feel better!"

Discord: "I suppose I could, if I really wanted to... Then again, the supposed 'Dark World' seems pretty fun too..."

*Suddenly, Discord gasped as a light bulb went off.*

Discord: "Sweet Celestia, that's it, Fluttershy!!! I know where I can go to continue being my chaotic self without interfering with the ponies duties! Oh, thank you, Fluttershy!"

*Discord hugged a rather confused Fluttershy.*

Fluttershy: "Umm... You're welcome?"

Discord: "Now, let us set forth for The Dark World!"

Fluttershy: "Wait, wha-"

*Discord, with Fluttershy in his arms, summoned a door that shun with a bright light onto the other side and with a now confident smile on his he jumped through the said, all while Fluttershy was tagging along with him.*

*Meanwhile, it was yet another day for Kris and her friends. That being a day of boring classes with Alphys and Berdly being annoying. Except for the fact that Berdly hasn't been seen at all for several days. Not that it bothered Susie or Kris, really. In fact, they couldn't really care less.*

*Anyway, everyone was pretty bored. There was nothing fun to do, and Kris, Noelle, and Susie could really only tolerate Sans for so long.* So, bored out of their minds, they decided to head to The Dark World, where our story truly begins... Once our teams switched outfits and found themselves in Castle Town, they were greeted by Lancer.*

Lancer: "Susie!"

*Lancer rode up to Susie and the others with a big smile on his face.*

@somedude111111

[suchawrathfullamb]

Hannibal Lecter as The Devil

Our fandom usually ignores key elements that were said about the characters, especially the ones that state very clearly that the show is not the same as the books or movies. And the one thing that usually gets mixed up the most is, of course, Hannibal's past and even his very essence.

Our Hannibal is the devil. Apparently literally so. He is not the way he is because of his past trauma. He even says so in the show but most people dismiss it as him being avoidant. No. Literally. Nothing happened to him, he happened.

This is why some fans get so confused about the character's actions and motives, because they are ignoring this very important aspect: he is the devil, he is not some traumatized guy. Don't fight me on it, I'm just communicating what the creator and Mads himself have said. But when you take this into consideration it actually makes everything more interesting, fascinating and makes a lot more sense, too.

The devil despised humanity, or, thought he was superior. This is Hannibal. He sees himself as above everyone else, and in the show, he actually is, as this isn't a neurosis or complex, but who he is. Human emotions are weaknesses because they make you suffer, prone to error and vulnerable. This is why he goes insane when he falls in love with Will. He literally ate his sister simply because he loved her and loving her made him tender, therefore he "denied" his nature for her. He ate her in order to forgive her for committing this "crime". Didn't kill her, but had to consume her in order to put himself above his love for her.

When he falls for Will, he experiences a loss of control he never experienced before, as passion does, and he is the control king so naturally this makes him desperate and absolutely insane. This is why he does everything he does to Will, because he is trying to prove to himself that love isn't stronger than He is, that he is capable of following his nature and urges beyond his feelings for Will.

This is why that scene where he is crying after Will was put in prison, is so important, sooo important and most of us don't pay enough attention. Abigail wasn't dead, we thought he was crying for her, later we find out that she was safe and alive. Mads even confirmed but didn't have to because it becomes obvious then that he was crying for Will. But the dialogue is what makes the scene so important.

They're talking about having "kids":

He was disappointed when Will didn't immediately accept him once he found out the truth. He felt so betrayed and he felt like he failed guiding Will properly to accept himself and Hannibal. Framing Will was heartbreaking for him but he had to make himself do it to prove he was still in control. That he wouldn't let his feelings put him in a vulnerable position and risk his life and freedom (which he ultimately does in the end).

When he finally admits or realizes he is in love, that's when he does the unspeakable and tries to eat Will. Bryan confirmed he wasn't actually going to go through with it, but in the heat of emotion after feeling betrayed by Will yet again, he just reaches a new level of insanity.

Soon, he realizes what he's done and the rarity of him feeling regret happens (hence the time reversing attempt). This is why he surrenders. He wasn't being "petty", he was trying to show Will he truly loved him, also because that man cannot believe for the life of him that Hannibal, the devil himself, is capable of love. Which is ALSO why the jokes about him having to ask aren't actually congruent with canon. No one would realistically believe someone like Hannibal would be capable of love. No, he didn't know before asking Bedelia, Hugh already confirmed but if you pay attention to the show this should not have been the interpretation. Will literally fucks everything up BECAUSE he refuses to believe H loves him. Yes, the dream, etc etc, I already made a post explaining that scene, too. It's in the meta tags and called Will Graham and the Denial of Love, anyway, this is such a beautiful tale of the devil falling for a human, only to discover he actually fell in love with another fallen angel, and the act itself made him more human.

[spooky-wisp]

"If I'm being honest, no I'm not holding up okay."

Repost from other account

1.9k words

CW: Past Stancy mention, current Jancy, past feelings mention, and past/current unrequited love (both)

Prom Night, 1985

Prom night, supposedly one of the greatest nights of teenagers' lives. That's a sentiment Steve definitely wouldn't agree with, hanging out outside his own senior prom. He didn't even know why he bothered coming, knowing full well he'd see them together. Hand in hand, arm in arm, dancing to every cheesy slow song the DJ put on. As much as Steve tried to be supportive or ignore it...

He just wasn't over his ex-girlfriend yet.

But that didn't stop him from trying to be the bigger man in the situation. That's what Steve grew into being, the bigger person. No more being a total asshole for the sake of his own feelings. That's something Junior year Steve would do.

"Well, don't you just look so lively tonight." His trance breaks as he's approached by you, coming from the double doors of the Gym hallway not too far away.

"I'm not in the mood tonight."

Steve sounded both fed up and disgusted with your antics already. Even if this was just the first thing you said anything to him all day.

You lean against the cold brick gym wall. Feeling the rough bumps of the hard surface on your back and through your dress.

"Rough night, champ?" Steve sighs, rubbing his eyes, raw from a few minutes of being emotional.

"You don't know the half of it." Glancing over, he sees you for the first time. Admiring the floor length red dress, you always looked good in red. You looked good in everything, at least in his mind.

"Look at you, all dressed up and presentable for once." You smirk at his joke, making him chuckle and smile.

"I always look presentable thank you prick." Smirking to yourself before looking back at him.

"You look good in a tuxedo... Y'know, for you."

"Thanks for the backhanded compliment. Anything good from you is a rarity." You laugh, making him smile even wider. His eyes shift around the parking lot, watching cars pull in, and other kids come to join the party going on inside.

"What're you even doing out here by yourself? I thought you'd be in there with like 9 different girls trying to dance with you at once." He scoffs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You know, too many options beating down my door. Couldn't disappoint them all."

"Came stag too, huh?" He just nods in response, not saying anything as you both look up into the inky night sky. The only sound to fill the cold April night air was the crickets chirping and distant chatting of other students.

"Are you holding up okay? I saw them dancing inside and... I know the breakup was hard for you, so I just thought I'd check up on you..."

Steve let out a rough sigh, feeling like a complete idiot pining for his ex-girlfriend still. Being broken up for almost 5 months now. He couldn't let her go in his head, they were each other's first loves. At least she was to him.

All of that came crashing to a halt after everything back in November.

"If I'm being honest, no I'm not holding up okay."

"I know I'm not a therapist or anything..." You shrug, glancing back at him as you nervously chew on your thumbnail.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I've been talking to Dustin for months about it and no matter how much I try I can't get past it. Like Nancy's cast some kind of spell to stick with me or something." He sighs, looking at the asphalt as he swallows harshly.

"Now we can hardly make eye contact for more than 3 seconds before she turns away... God, she must hate me."

"Steve, she doesn't hate you. She's probably just feeling awkward about everything and trying to respect her new relationship by not hanging around her ex-boyfriend. They're just trying to find their footing as a couple." You reassure him, leaning over to give him a squeeze on his shoulder. Thinking about what he said, you shake your head, grinning at the thought of Dustin.

"And really Steve? Dustin. He's like 14 and barely knows how to handle having a crush yet. He's never even had a girlfriend yet. I know he's smart for his age, but c'mon."

"I know! He's just a great listener. He knows a lot for his age, it's actually kinda scary." You roll your eyes looking at the ground, starting to laugh to yourself.

"What?" His full attention is on you now, a small smile pulling at his lips as he watches you start to laugh harder.

"Nothing I just..." You cover your mouth, snickering again.

"I just never pictured myself giving you of all people a pep talk... You're you for crying out loud. Steven "The Hair" Harrington." You grin, bumping his arm with your elbow.

"King Steve... You're literally the most popular guy in the entire school, and I'm... Me." He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's the fun thing. We're so different, so we can see our point of view while still seeing each other's... Plus, it's nice not having someone around trying to kiss my ass constantly."

"Yeah, I'll just kick your ass instead." You smirk, pressing off the wall, your heels click as you step in front of him.

"Look, I know it hurts now, but it'll pass eventually... And if I can be honest with you... You could do so much better than Nancy frickin' Wheeler."

Steve could feel his eyebrows shooting up in amusement as you got in front of him. For some odd reason, just standing there in your presence felt somewhat calming suddenly.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you have in mind then?"

"I don't know," you think for a second and shrug, "Farrah Fawcett? I think she'd think you were cute. Celebrity or not?"

"Farrah Fawcett? You think Farrah Fawcett, one of the most famous women alive, would want me?"

"Yeah! You're a hot guy, why wouldn't she?!" It's his turn to laugh now, shaking his head as he bites his lip.

"Where the hell would I even meet her?"

"I don't know! I thought we were talking hypothetically." Steve nodded, his face turning serious again.

"It's just... It's hard looking past Nancy, y'know. She was the first girl I ever loved."

"I'm aware, Steve. It's just not always the best thing to dwell on. I'm talking from experience." You bite the inside of your cheek and sigh. Nervous to be this honest, but if it helps get the point across, then so be it.

"Can I be honest with you about something?"

Steve looks at you, seeing how nervous you look to talk. His lips part slightly as he nods.

"Of course."

"I used to have a massive crush on Jonathan ages ago and when he started showing an interest in Nancy it killed me... But he's my friend, so I encouraged him. It killed me but I got over it."

You turn your head, looking up at the sky again, taking in the shining stars above the two of you. Feeling embarrassed about laying everything out there for someone you've barely gotten to know again.

"Took a while but time heals most wounds. So, just know I'm here for you because I know what it feels like... Kind of."

Steve felt your pain as you talked about how you couldn't be with Jonathan, and how that's basically how he felt about Nancy in all honesty.

Silence fell over the two of you as you both looked out to the sky, admiring the stars again. Steve looks over at you, feeling somewhat peaceful. Yet still wanting to ask so many questions.

"How'd you do it? Stay strong like that. I can barely be in a room with her right now."

"I talked to my family. That helped a lot... But I know you aren't the closest to your parents, so that's why I asked if you wanted to talk about it with me." You smile softly, lips turning up as you half shrugged at his question.

"I know we weren't always on the best of terms, but you're my friend and... I care about you."

"We're friends again?" His eyes seemed to light up almost, just like he was a little kid again. Over the past year he's felt like you two were bonding. But never wanted to ask out of fear.

Tension fills the air between you two. It's been this way since you two started becoming friends again. Going through hell together alongside the couple, Steve was trying to avoid like the plague.

"Well you know, when you nearly die fighting inner dimensional monsters together you tend to start caring about their well-being again... So, in a way, I guess we have to thank them for something at least."

Steve smirks before shaking his head.

"Part of me likes to think we'd be friends again someday."

"Who knows." You add, silence falling between you again. It's not long before Steve shifts, pushing himself off the wall and looking at you.

"So let’s say, hypothetically, that I was stuck at this stupid prom without a date and I had no one else to ask but you...”

"Mmm. Mmhm, hypothetically." You nod along, fighting back the urge to smirk.

"Go on."

Steve looked away for a second, collecting his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, turning back to you.

"And, hypothetically, I might need to spend our senior prom dancing, like my life depends on it, because it's possibly the last fun night before the rest of our lives."

"I'm starting to think you don't know what the word hypothetically means."

"Shush," he cuts you off, making you giggle before he continues, "now, hypothetically, would you be interested in dancing with me?"

You nod, looking like you were really thinking about it. As if you didn't know your answer already.

"Well, hypothetically," you play along, making sure to hold eye contact, "I might be inclined to say yes... If it wasn't a hypothetical, of course."

You rub your hand over your mouth, smirking behind it. He holds eye contact, faking a scoff as he stares.

"You're gonna make me ask?" You nod, tongue going to his cheek as he also nods.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"I wouldn't be saying that to a girl you're about to ask to prom Steve." He chuckles, nodding. You got him there.

His expression shifts to a goofy grin as he sighs with a slight relief.

"You think you can survive the night without making fun of me?" He smirks, holding his hand out for you to grab, you smile back at him taking it gently. Giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"I don't know about the whole night, but I can sure try my best." Rolling his eyes, he pulls you into his side, lacing his arm around your waist.

You look up at him, your gaze meeting again. Taking in his deep brown eyes and soft smile brings... Old feelings from years ago bubble back up.

Your mouth opens to say something, anything at all. But the words won't come out as your heartbeat picks up speed.

That old crush you had on your old friend never really went away over all these years.

Or at least that's what you think at the moment.

[apocalypseornaw]

Prove It (Pt 5/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean plans the perfect anniversary do over

Warnings: Fluff

“Thank you for being somewhere safe she can go to, even if it's running from me” Dean told Alicia the next morning with a hint of a smile playing at his lips. She laughed lightly “You're welcome Dean. I don't think I have to worry about her running from you anytime soon but she knows wherever I am she's always welcomed” 

You watched the two of them and couldn't help but smile. You felt better than you had in days. Sam and Dean had ended up staying at Alicia's the night before with Sam taking the couch and Dean taking the guest bedroom with you. The two of you had spent most of the night just laying in each other's arms. 

When you woke up he was still asleep and you'd gotten a chance to see him at peace which was a rarity most days. He didn't like to let his guard down. 

—----------

Dean could feel your eyes on him and looked from Alicia over to where you stood at the trunk of your car with Sam. The plan was for Sam to take your car home so you could ride with Dean.  He didn't want you too far away from him, not for a few days at least. He needed to assure himself you were really coming home, that you weren't mad at him and had forgiven him.

Alicia noticed his attention was gone and smiled before touching his arm gently “Word of advice Dean? She loves you with everything she has, if anything was to happen again just call her. She's got to be the most caring person either of us knows. Trust that there isn't a lot in this world that could tear her from your side”

He smiled as he watched you poke Sam's side then laughed “Believe me Alicia, I'll never take her for granted again”

—---------

You were standing shoulder to shoulder with Sam looking across the field next to Alicia's house “I'm sorry for not being the best friend either. You do so damn much not only for Dean but for me too hell for everyone we know. You practically took on Bobby and Ellen's roles within the hunter network we work with. I should've thought more, made Dean just call you something” you poked his side playfully then laughed “Yeah you should've” he looked shocked for a second then saw the look on your face and started laughing too.

His face sobered after a minute and he looked back towards Dean “Serious note? I've never seen him that desperate. He may have a hard time showing it but he really does love you. You're it for him” you glanced back towards Dean before saying “I feel like I overreacted by leaving”  he shook his head “No,now come on. You're always defending us now I'm gonna defend you. You were hurt and angry. If you would've stayed it probably would've come down to a fight because when a person is hurt even subconsciously they have the need to hurt who hurt them. You yet again were protecting Dean in a way. You both had time to clear your heads and talk it out”

You pulled Sam into a hug about the time you heard Dean clear his throat. You pulled back and he was looking at Sam who grinned “What?” “Hands off” he teased, causing you both to laugh. You patted Sam's shoulder then winked at Dean “I'm gonna tell Alicia bye then we can hit the road”

You started to walk past him but stopped and left a quick kiss on his lips “I love you” you whispered before walking away.

 

You'd been back at the bunker for almost a week when Dean woke you up early one morning. You groaned even as his fingers teased at your sides “Dean, I love you but unless you're wanting to have sex please leave me alone”

He laughed at that, laying his head over on your bare stomach “So I can wake you up for sex or a hunt but that's it?” You opened one eye and looked down at him “I'd prefer the sex or at least some light petting but yes”

He laughed harder, rolling over on his back and taking you with him. Once you were straddling his waist you had every intention to curl up and go back to sleep but he caught you before your head could hit his chest “Cmon sweetheart. I got somewhere I want to take you”

You glared at him but knew it was a pitiful attempt because he simply laughed and kissed your forehead “The car's ready. All you have to do is get dressed”

Half of the car ride you'd spent curled up in the passenger seat asleep. The sound of Dean drumming along with the radio and singing lightly was the only noise.

—-------

When he woke you up so the two of you could stop for breakfast he had the biggest grin as you tried to smoothe your hair down “What?” You asked and he shrugged “You talk to me in your sleep, alot” you felt your cheeks warm wondering just what you'd said. He laughed at the look on your face “C'mon. We still got two hours ahead of us”

—-------

You had no idea where Dean was taking you so when he pulled off on a long dirt road you sat up in the seat “Where are we headed?” “You'll see”

The trail was winding but the further he drove the more gorgeous the scenery because. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale then the cottage came into view. It was a small place tucked in the trees but was beautiful. You noticed a small lake not far from the cottage with an honest to God waterfall.

“Dean” you breathed when the car came to a stop and turned to look at him but he was already looking at you “This is our anniversary do over. Alicia and Max are on standby if Sam needs help with a hunt so for the next two days it's just us” 

You felt tears threaten to spill from your eyes “You didn't have to do all this” he nodded “I know but I wanted to. Hell I'm lucky enough to be able to call you mine. Now want to go in or just sit here looking at it?” You laughed lightly “Lead the way”

@starkleila @fluff-lover @lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898

[danikamariewrites]

Hi I just recently found your blog and can I just say I love your writing so much! I spent most of my day reading your fics.

I saw your combined aesthetics fic and it gave me this idea. I was wondering if you could do a ruhn x reader? With the reader secretly liking heavy metal and rock music but nodoby could tell because she was very shy and sweet? So then one day Ruhn finds out and is surprised and you could maybe go from there?

You don't have to do it it was just something I thought of and thought that you would be a the perfect person to write this.

I’m with the Band

Ruhn x reader

A/n: Thank you anon, you're so sweet! Thank you for reading, I loved writng this it was so cute

Warnings: none

As you walk to Ruhn’s house from band practice you bop your head to the recording for the new song you rehearsed. Things were going great for you and the girls. You guys had never thought about actually doing gigs, it was just a silly thing Becca started in her garage. It’s been three years of you guys just jamming.

One night Becca’s neighbor knocked on the door. You thought he was going to yell for the music being too loud. It turned out the guy owns the White Raven and wanted to start doing live music on the weekends. The girls agreed and now Illogically Hotter is playing a second gig tomorrow night. You hadn’t told Ruhn yet. Not that you’re ashamed of your girls or your music, you’re just not ready for him to see you perform yet.

Stepping into the house you slip your headphone off your head resting them around your neck. Preparation for tonight’s party was in full swing. Dec was setting up the beer pong table while Tharion and Flynn brought kegs in from the kitchen.

Ruhn skids to a halt in front of you, sporting that wild boyish grin. “Hey baby,” he says happily pulling you into a loving hug. You hug him back tighter burying your face in his chest. “Hey Ru. Missed you.” Ruhn kisses your forehead with a loud smack. “I’m gunna go upstairs and get ready.” He nods at you as you take the stairs two at a time to his room.

Ripping off your sweaty shirt you let out a relived sigh. You went way too hard on the drums tonight. You pull out your oversized Banshee shirt that people always mistake as Ruhn’s along with your ripped jeans. Maybe you will tell Ruhn about your band tonight.

Ruhn plops down on the couch throwing his arm over your shoulder. He’s followed by Hunt, who looks as smug as your boyfriend, Ithan and Flynn who look defeated. Clearly sour at the fact they lost another round of beer pong.

Bryce giggles, “Aww sore losers again?” She teases. Flynn rolls his eyes at her. “You play them and see if you’re laughing after.”

A Banshee song comes on over the speakers. A rarity that the playlist strays from pop or house music unless you get your hands on whoever’s phone is in control. You start bopping your head and humming along, drumming your fingers on your thighs.

Flynn squints at you. “You like this song y/n?” You nod, “Yeah, I’m a big Banshee fan. I love rock, punk, heavy metal, all that stuff.” His jaw drops. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you and retreat into Rhun’s side praying his shadows could swallow you up. “What! I thought you were our resident pop princess.”

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Actually,” you drawl shyly looking up at Ruhn, “you know Becca, Laurel, and Vesper? We have a rock band.” It was Ruhn’s turn to be surprised. You saw hurt briefly flash in his eyes. He quickly recovered, shooting you that boyish grin. The group bombarded you with questions about what instrument you play, how long have you been in a band, and where you’re playing. Ruhn didn’t say a word the whole time. Your heart beat from the anxiety of the love of your life being mad at you.

Hours later you and Ruhn were getting ready for bed in uncomfortable silence. Climbing into bed you let out a sigh. It felt good to finally lay down. Ruhn turns on his side facing you. You try to ignore his gaze that’s burning a hole in the side of your head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The hurt in his voice made you wince. Turning to look at Ruhn your heart breaks at the frown on his lips, his usual brilliant blue eyes dim. You reach out to gently stroke his face. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “I was going to but then I got nervous. Then my mind was telling me you wouldn’t like it, so I don’t know.”

“Baby how could I ever hate anything you do? You’re perfect to me.” You give him a small smile, cuddling into his side. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Ruhn hugged you tighter to his chest rubbing your back. “It’s ok baby.”

The next morning you had made the stress inducing decision to invite Ruhn and your friends to see Ilogically Hotter at the White Raven. You spent the afternoon practicing with the girls trying not to worry about Ruhn watching you play drums and sing.

You did have to take a break at one point becuase of how stressed you got. Becca ran you to the bathroom because you thought you were going to vomit. After Becca calmed you down and got food in your stomach you felt better.

Laurel and Vesper were getting pumped when you finally came out of the empty back office the band uses as a dressing room. "Are you ready y/n!" "Yeah!" You shook out your arms then teh rest of your body to dispel your nerves. Taking a deep breath you decide to let go and pretend Ruhn and all your freinds are not in the audience watching you.

Vesper dragged you into the group huddle to do your little chant that she decided was now the pre-show ritual.

No turning back now.

Ruhn was picking at his fingers in anticipation. He decided it would be best to stay at a table on the edge of the crowd so you wouldn't be too nervous seeing him. But he was excited. The energy from the crowd wass electric.

He swore he heard a few people say that they came back to see you guys again. That made Ruhn smile. Gods how could you keep this from him?

Bryce grabbed at his fingers pressing them against the hardwood table. "Stop that." She said sternly, raising a brow at him. "Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Don't be." Dec said plopping drinks down on the table. "They're going to be great. Y/n is going to be great. And no matter what you'll support her." Ruhn nodded at his friend as the spot lights started to strobe. The rest of the group huddled around the table taking a drink.

Ruhn didn't take his eyes off the stage for a second. He was too enamoured by you. How you whipped your hair around as you bounced around in your sweet. The prince even made sure to listen to your background vocals. It was rare that you sang in front of him so he was going to cherish this moment.

When the hour long set was done Ruhn raced to find you. He needed to tell you how amazing you were or he felt like he was going to explode.

You were happily screaming with the girls over another successful gig when you sensed Ruhn coming. You looked over your shoulder just in time to see him push the curtain back. You gave him a huge smile that he returned as you both ran at each other.

You launched yourself into his open arms and Ruhn spun you around. Putting you down he held your shoulders to jokingly shake you. "Wow, wow, wow! I didn't know you were so talented! All of you." You stare into his bright eyes, twinkling with happiness and admiration. "Really?" "Yes really!" He pulled you into another bone crushing hug leaving a kiss on your sweaty head.

For the first time in a long time you felt truly like yourself. The fact that Ruhn was not only embracing this side of you, but fully supporting you was more than you could ask for.

tags: @callmeblaire

[alphabetboyluvr]

THROTTLE - JJK | NINE

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - plans are being set in motion!!! back to busan we go! references to drugs, shitty driving, the usual. no smut! a rarity! plot!! one of my fave metaphors / set of lines in the entire fic is in this one!!

word count - 11.4k

minors dni // series masterlist

"I've been thinking," you tell Hoseok a little after dusk. The sun sets later these days, mid-year sun never wanting to settle. A monsoon has been looming for a few days now, but the grey clouds sit defiant in the air. "You were right."

He looks at you, contemplation sinking into the creases of his frown, the crisp white shirt he's wearing unbuttoned to his mid chest. A pair of thin-framed glasses adorn his eyes as he skims over the notes of a casefile from work.

"What about?"

His voice is soft as he asks.

With your hair like this - top layer in a half-undone bun, the rest wisping around your shoulders - he's reminded of how you used to be.

There's a lot to be said for your relationship, or lack thereof, but once upon a time, you'd cared for another. Would dance in his parents' kitchen when they were out of town, you in one of his shirts, bare feet padding against the ondol heated floor.

You look younger with your hair like this. Like yourself, he thinks. Someone he used to know.

It's part of the reason, you think, that you're so awful to another. You grew up together. He's a part of your formation, and you a part of his. There's a reminder of the innocence that once was.

He knows how much you wanted to get out of the fold. Knows you wouldn't have come back without an ulterior motive. He isn't naive to this. Isn't naive to anything you do. Is well aware you've been doing things that no woman with a diamond on her ring finger should be doing.

But he's no saint, either. The ring was given to you with a purpose. Just like his dress shirts are dry cleaned with a purpose. Saves you from having to wash his secretary's lipstick out of them.

"I need something to fill my days," you say. "I think I'm going crazy cooped up here."

It's not a lie.

It's also not the full truth; not what's prompting this conversation, but that's neither here nor there.

Hoseok nods. Put his case file on the coffee table and turns his full attention to you. There's a softness to him now, one that he didn't have the last time you spoke.

He's not all bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is just caught up in a God-awful world. He's like you, in that regard.

Whatever freedoms once belonged to you have been traded for protection - not just from the men who lurk around dingy boxing clubs, but from your own family, too.

Hoseok's position within the police force gives you an added layer of armour. He's chainmail. He knows this. Knows you need him.

But he needs you, too. He's got a greasy pole to climb. Helps him out if you're throwing him towels from the Mayor's office. Will get him to the top a little quicker.

It's unsurprising that he had been the one to suggest picking your relationship back up where it had been left a few years prior.

He had painted the idea as a beautiful utopia; Daegu's darling children, reunited. A powerhouse. Unstoppable.

You didn't have a plan back then, not yet - but power seemed like a good place to start.

"You've been away for a while," he muses, well aware that it's not been an easy adjustment for you. "I... Look, you and I both know this isn't ideal. I know you wouldn't be here if you thought there was another option for you."

When you nod, he thinks you might cry.

The person you are isn't the person he once knew. You're so strong in some regards, far more powerful than he ever thought you would be and yet at times you can seem so docile. So timid. Weak. He doesn't understand it. Not really. Doesn't understand you.

Because if he did, he'd know there's nothing docile about you.

"I don't actually want to ruin your life," he says with a small smile that seems sincere. Might not be. You choose to believe it is.

"It's fine," you offer back an equally minuscule smile. "I do a good enough job of that all on my own."

He presses his lips together, and contemplative dimples etch themselves into his cheeks. "What are you thinking? Let's work together. Find a solution."

Men. So easy to wrap around your finger.

"I'm thinking of proposing a library initiative to get the city kids reading. You know how much my Father likes a good press release," you say. "I'm not too sure yet. I could volunteer at the library, start promoting for the education sector. Something like that. It will give me something to do, and gets me in a public role that is pretty much as safe for publicity as can be. If I'm working as a volunteer, there's no need for additional expenses."

As you recite your lines, you think of Jimin - and how good he is at putting words together to make them sound convincing. He and Jin are definitely the brains of Kang's boys. Namjoon and Jungkook the brawn.

Like clockwork, you're thinking about him again. Thinking about the way he didn't take his eyes off you for the entire meeting. Thinking about the way he didn't crack a single smile. Thinking about how he'd followed you out afterwards, just to ask if you were okay - and about how forlorn he'd looked when you told him that you're none of his concern, and that the only thing between the pair of you anymore is business.

And then he had smirked. Told you that business was the only thing that had ever been between the pair of you. Told you not to get it twisted. Told you not to flatter yourself, and reminded you that he was the one who had orchestrated your entire relationship.

"Whatever's between us -" He had almost snarled. "- Is what I made it to be."

You'd laughed. Stepped a little closer. Toyed with the key still around his neck, and said, "we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He was silent. Could barely breathe, let alone think straight. Wasn't till you were a mile across the city that he seemed to remember how to function like a human being again. He knows one thing for certain: he absolutely cannot be around you. Not if he wants any shot at sanity.

And so when you walk into the boxing club the next day, Jungkook pauses.

He watches how you scan the room, but drops his gaze before your eyes are able to reach his. He doesn't care for making conversation with you. Knows that it will be a fruitless endeavour.

It feels like oceans bloat the distance between you, and he's never much been one for swimming. Loves the freefall of the dive; hates the dictation of the currents.

"Is Jin about?" You ask, an air of indifference to your tone.

Following the conversation with Hoseok, you'd been granted approval from the Mayoral office to start planning the campaign. You'll be working with the PR team, but it's your domain. They'll be there to hold your hand if you need it, but you'll be the guide.

You're just here to report back to Seokjin. Aren't here for small talk. Would rather swallow a razor blade, you think. Much more pleasant.

Still in his workout gear, Jungkook doesn't look at you. Just shakes his head, slams his locker door shut, and kicks the heavy metal side door of the club open.

"You shouldn't be here," he says as he exits. "Ain't safe for you."

And he's right. It's a terrible place for you to be. Not for the risk of Kang showing up, or you being spotted fraternising with the enemy, but because of the way Jungkook makes you feel like your heart might stop beating entirely.

Part of you thinks it would be preferable if it did.

The door slams behind him, and echoes into the lofty room. The chime is haunting. Almost sounds like the same one that used to be in your stomach.

You're looking at your feet, gearing yourself up to leave, when the door swings back open.

Jungkook is agitated. Chewing on his cheeks, thunder in his eyes; he's the monsoon that's been looming all week.

You wish he would just crash. Pour down. Bless you with the glory of what it feels like to be covered in his torrential rains.

But there's a ring on your finger, and a hole in his chest. His mouth is constantly dry in your presence, and he's all cried out. He's got nothing left to give.

You look so familiar. So much like home - but Jungkook lost the keys a long time ago, and the one around his neck won't work on any of the fucking locks. He's shut out. An intruder every time he tries to peep inside the windows. It's invasive, the way he looks at you.

Has you drawing the curtains shut.

"I wasn't kidding," he says, his rounded white teeth clamping on his bottom lip before he can speak his favourite letter out loud. Doesn't wanna call you the name he used to trace on your back in the dark of the night. "You don't what it's been like since... You don't know. It's not safe."

"It's never been safe," you sneer. "Why the fuck are you acting like you care now?"

You watch as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head. Looks to his feet.

There's something calming about it. You've seen his head hung low like this many times over.

It's never been due to your faults, but his, instead - his own disappointment, his own shame.

When his eyes fall back on you, dark and heavy, you're reminded of exactly who he is: danger.

So yeah, you're right. It's never been safe. Not with him around. Not safe for your life, not safe for your heart.

Never safe.

But he's always cared.

He wants to curse you out. Wants to say that you've no fucking idea how hard this has all been for him. Wants you to know that the only reason you're both still in this mess is because he cared. If he had never cared, then he never would have fucked it all up in the first place.

The words on the tip of his tongue are knocked back down his throat when a familiar rattle sounds in the parking lot. Thick and heavy, the gargle belongs to an exhaust pipe, and Jungkook has been around these parts for long enough to know exactly who it belongs to.

"Shit," he hisses. Doesn't answer your question. Holds the door open, instead. "Out."

When you stay put, he snarls.

"C, get the fuck out. It's Kang. You wanna fuck things up all over again? Wanna prolong the time we have to spend together?"

You start walking as soon as he finishes his final question.

"S'what I thought," he mutters when you walk past, and closes the door behind you both. "Go slowly. Don't turn the corner into the parking lot. Wait for me."

He clicks the lock shut; scrambles the code on the padlock. Keeps his eyes on you while you wait by the corner of the building. Appreciates that you listened to him for once in your life.

Old Man Kang only comes to the boxing club these days to check up on Jungkook - to make sure he's fighting fit. He's got a boxing match coming up. A big one. Puts him up against some boys from Busan. He knows they don't take well to 'traitors', which is what he's deemed as, now that he's fighting for a Daegu club.

Kang's banking on a heavy return should Jungkook win - but there's no 'should' about it. He has to win. If he doesn't, his debt to Kang - for the money lost on you - will only increase.

"You drive here?" Jungkook whispers as he comes to stand behind you, peeking over your shoulder to get a view of the parking lot. You choose not to inhale through your nose. Know that you might just die if he still smells the same.

He scans the cars, but can't spot the Merc you've been driving.

Of course he can't. Hoseok needed it for work. An out of town job.

"Got the bus," you say back, just as quietly.

"M'kay," Jungkook says gently. Goes to put a hand on your waist. Stops himself. Remembers things aren't how they used to be. "Take my key, get in the passengers side. Keep your head down. I'm gonna go back in for a minute, and make it look like I'm just leaving. They'll ask questions if they hear me drive off without seeing my face."

"I don't-"

"It's not up for debate. If they see you here, it fucks everything up. Just get in the damn car."

It's silent, save for the faint hum of traffic on the main road a few blocks away. Just you, and Jungkook, and the sound of the city. Neither of you really understand the way you feel. It's not quite sorrow. It's solemn. Sad - yet there's serenity, too. A saving grace for those who have fallen from it.

Jungkook decides that you're too stubborn, but also knows the one thing that always got you on side was a little desperation.

He gets closer. Puts his hand on the back of your neck. Wonders if you can feel the pulse in his thumb, and how it's beating a mile a minute. Squeezes ever so gently. Whispers, "Please, C."

The bus stop is two minutes up the road. You know that you could make it there - and be on the next bus going anywhere - by the time Jungkook has finished distracting Kang. You don't need him to save you. You don't need his protection. His kindness.

Yet you hold out your hand. Take his keys, and say, "Please be quick."

All he can do is nod, because truthfully, he'll do whatever he can to get himself beside you again.

"I'll be as quick as I can be. Promise."

It's funny. He's broken every single promise he's ever made you. Strange of him to think it holds any merit, now.

Doesn't stop you from holding out your pinky, mind you. Also doesn't stop him from linking his with yours. Pretty little promise, wrapped up with a pink bow. All perfect and pristine, satin against skin.

At least it's not red, you think. Not this time.

You hear Jungkook greet Kang - "Hi! Didn't see you there. Was just about to leave! What can I do for you?" - and decide that the coast is clear. Glancing around, you make a beeline for Jungkook's obnoxiously bright tin can of a car.

You hate it. Hate it in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns. No matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.

But of course you will.

It's home.

Some say it's where the heart is.

And considering you've been without one ever since Jungkook left your apartment all those months ago, perhaps it's not a bad place to start looking for it.

As you approach the bright, siren-red car in the parking lot, Jungkook's keys sit snug in the palm of your hand.

The satin lanyard strap is a little worn through - a freebie from a car show he'd attended a few years ago - but is just as soft as it always has been.

There's comfort to be found in it, like a blanket from childhood, or the warmth of a heavy duvet after a long day. It's a comfort you haven't felt in Hoseok's bedding, nor in the childhood bedroom you're able to visit again now that you're back on cordial terms with your family. 

Jungkook had never smothered you. Not once. Not like a blanket nor a duvet could - and that's exactly why you kind of used to wish he would. You had craved the weight of his body; wanted your airwaves cut off by the very essence of everything he was. Deprivation had made you desperate.

Foolishly, it seems like not much has changed. Not much and everything all at once.

When you hook your fingers beneath the door handle, you can still feel the burn of his touch. In fact, your pinky finger almost feels numb. You hold it out a little, away from your other fingers. You want to preserve the feeling; lodge the sensation in your memories, embed it into your skin. Never wanna lose it, as if you have any choice in the matter. 

Sinking into the passenger seat (alternatively known as the closest thing you've ever had to a second home) it's the scent of his leather that hits you first. A little oaky. Well-aged. Cared for. Restored by a pair of rough hands that hand touched you with just as much gentle cautiousness, once upon a time.

It's details like these; his discipline when it comes to making sure his car is looked after - preserved - that let you know just how meticulous Jungkook is. Nothing he ever does is purely up to chance.  Luck isn't something that comes naturally to him. It's something he crafts. 

Like Rumplestiltskin, he'd spun gold from straw in the form of your relationship. None of it was real. Not really.

A few tears brim on your lashline and threaten to fall - but you've never taken well to threats. You wipe them away. Won't let him know that being back in a place that once felt so much like safety is scaring you half to death, now. 

It's a vow you've made to yourself: Jungkook will never know how he affects you. He won't see you cry. Will never know your skin is forever changed by his touch, numb to everything else but the tips of his fingers and the taste of his tongue against your own.

He'd lost the luxury of 'you' the very second he decided you were expendable. 

Shifting in your seat, you're acutely aware of the little changes that have been made in your absence. There's a new air freshener, but it smells just the same. Some sort of pine. Gas station staple.

There's no hairband around his gear stick, like you know there used to be. No receipts from GS25 in the cupholders, no dirt from your shoes in the footwells, no bottles of soju left to roll around in the back.

His car is void of all essence of you. 

The centre console - the old store for your snacks after late night shifts - is empty, save for a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

They're large - clear lenses - and slightly more rounded than you'd expect of his taste, but the thick dark frame on top of them seems apt. You can't imagine him wearing them. Think it might be fatal. Decide you'd never like to find out.

When you flick down the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror, you almost miss it; the one relic of you.

Tucked in a small slip where his tax documents should be, is a photo strip. Taken in a beachside photobooth after a few too many drinks, you remember it well.

It's rough at the edges. Torn in half. Jungkook is gone, and yet you remain. 

The removal of himself from his own memories is stark. Confusing. Distressing. Forces you to focus on yourself; the smile that you know was caused by him tickling at your ribs, and the tattooed hand on the side of your face in the second picture, that you know for a fact was pulling you in for a kiss, even if you can't see it. 

In the photographs, your eyes are bright, despite the black-and-white filter (his pick). There's a stupid pastel purple frame around each one of the pictures, with miniature Kuromi's perched on the edges (your pick).

You wonder where the other half is. Decide you're better off not knowing, but don't have time to give it much thought though, for Jungkook's yanking at the drivers-side door, and asking for the keys before you even have a chance to flip the visor back up.

He looks at you - eyes jagged, jawline sharp - and lets his gaze fall to your hand, where the pictures sit pretty.

"That's still in here?" he sneers, as if it's a surprise; as if he doesn't look at it every time he stops by the river to breathe for a moment. Just like he didn't sit on the beach in Busan last month and set fire to the other half; watching himself disintegrate. "Keep it. I've got no use for it."

He holds his hand out for his keys, so you make sure to drop them just beyond his grasp and into his footwell. You know you're pressed for time, and that you really shouldn't be fucking about, but he's too much of an asshole, you decide. 

"Real fuckin' mature," he grumbles, pulling on the lever beneath his chair to push it back so he can reach down for them. There's silence as his posture restores and he sinks his key into the ignition. A spark lights in his engine, the exhaust roaring into action. He knocks the gear stick into reverse, and holds onto the headrest of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. Swings the car around. "Head down."

You do as you're told. 

It's mainly because you don't want to give him any more reason to snarl, but also because the quicker you do, the quicker you can just get the fuck out of his car.

It's claustrophobic now that he's sharing the space with you. You don't wanna breathe; don't wanna smell his aftershave. Don't wanna listen; don't wanna hear the way he mumbles to himself. Don't wanna look; don't wanna see his tattooed hand knock the gear stick into first, then straight up to third.

In fact, you'd quite like to stop existing altogether. 

Jungkook used to say how much he enjoyed it. Enjoyed existing with you. 

You hope it makes him feel fucking sick, now. 

"Just drop me at the end of the road," you say. "I'll make my way from there."

"End of the-" he scoffs, not even finishing his repetition of the question. He coasts around the corner, foot on the clutch. You wonder if he's exercising a complete lack of control on purpose. Wonder if he's baiting you. "That private school education of yours really didn't give you any street smarts did it, huh?"

He definitely is baiting you. There's no doubt about it. He's petty motherfucker when he wants to be - and you can be just as bad. You just can't decide on how you want to respond. 

Firing back would be the easy option. It's what he would expect. What he knows of you. 

Staying silent looks meek, you think. 

The final thing you consider is crying. Do you want to? Not really. You're more frustrated than you are sad. Thing is, he wouldn't expect it. Wouldn't know what to do. Would definitely make him freak out a little. Might even get him trying to make things better.

But you just can't bring yourself to do it. 

Instead, you laugh. Look straight ahead. "Baby, these streets are mine. We both know I'm untouchable."

His hard stare on the road intensifies. You're approaching the bridge. Neither of you want to speak, both too aware of the impact that first night had on your lives; how it planted a seed that turned out to be nothing more than a venus fucking fly trap. 

And yet Jungkook just can't help himself. He doesn't want to let you win.

It's pathetic, and he knows it. Knows that he's the one who fucked you over; that he's the one who did all of this. Knows that you've every right to be hurting, and every right to want him hurting, too.

But you're engaged, he fumes internally. Due to be married. Have committed your life to someone else, as if the time you had spent with Jungkook meant nothing. It's only been about four months since it all went to shit. He can barely look at the watermark he still hasn't cleaned off of his bathroom mirror. 

Lies were fed to you between his kisses, but every single one of those was real. He meant it every time he pressed his lips against yours; every time he told you he needed you in his sheets eternally.

He makes assumptions like you used to do. Thinks about your fiance. Assumes it's love. Has to be.

It's clear to him now that the feelings you pretended to have for him were always a lie. 

He doesn't understand why.

Sure, he knows why he lied to you. Knows that he filled your head with half-truths, and tiptoed around the facts of the situation, but he was always honest with how he felt. Never told you bullshit about wanting to keep you close. Meant every single word of it. 

But you didn't. It's obvious to him that your lies went beyond your family tree. Nobody likes a liar - not even the boy who cried wolf, himself. 

"Untouchable?" he smirks. It's cruel. Juvenile. "We both know that isn't true, don't we?"

"Haven't you heard, baby?" You simper, voice sweet a honey laced with rat poison. You hold up your hand, and wiggle your fingers. Light catches in the cut of your diamond. "I've got a ring. I'm untouchable in every sense of the word."

It stings. Almost like your diamond's encrusted on a dagger, and you've impaled it into his chest.

He doesn't look at you as he drives. Not like he used to. Doesn't throw you a single glance across the centre console, doesn't hold your knee nor your hand beneath his on the gear stick. Instead, his jaw remains taut, eyes ahead on an endless horizon that he hopes he never reaches. If he keeps driving forever, none of this has to end. 

For a little while longer, he can pretend. 

Pretend that things are as always as they were; that perhaps you've just had a small argument - over what to have for dinner or the way he'd rolled his eyes at a suggestion you had made - and that you'll crack a smile soon. He'll say something dumb, play your favourite song. Tell you he's sorry. Pull over, and refuse to drive until you hold his hand. 

But your hand has a ring on it now. He'd feel it lodged beneath his fingers. Would be indented with the mark of commitment from another man.

And that's what makes him crack. 

"Engaged," he laughs quietly, not an ounce of humour in his voice as he shakes his head. His eyes stay on the road. He can't look at you. Knows he wouldn't be able to look away.

You're silent for a moment. Consider not responding - but his tone bothers you. 

"Uh-huh. We've established that - but you've no right to pass judgement."

Jungkook doesn't want to pass judgement. He wants to be vulgar. 

Wants to remind you of the way you were taking his cock a matter of months ago. Wants to ask if your fiance hits the spot like he knows he used to. Wants to know if your body is still stained by the colour of his claim; rosy handprints on your ass, plum bruises on your chest left by his lips. Wants to know if it's his name that reverberates in your head when you bite onto pillows. Wants to know if your fiance even fucks you well enough to make you do that. He doubts it.

He doesn't want to know the answers to any of those, though.

"I'm not passing judgement, C," he says in perhaps the most judgemental tone you've veer heard, flicking his indicator to merge into the next lane. "What's the dress like? Can't be white, can it?"

Bastard.

"We're going traditional," you lie. It hasn't even been discussed yet.  You also don't plan on sticking around long enough to see it through to the big day, but that's none of Jungkook's business. "Hanboks only. No modern dress."

Funny, Jungkook thinks. Had never pictured you as the traditional type. Then again, never pictured you walking down the aisle with anyone but him.

Truth be told, it's not like he's ready for any of that. He's not good with the future. Not anymore. Moves from one bad decision to the next. No point in planning ahead.

He disregards the flashing amber light over the pedestrian crossing, narrowly missing it as it changes to red. His foot is on the gas, and he doesn't seem to be easing.  You adjust in your seat. Cross your legs. Hold onto the door handle. 

"Slow down."

The way he ignores you is childish, and the way he speeds up is even more so.

"Jungkook-"

"Don't tell me how to drive my own damn car," he snaps. 

"Then don't drive it like a fucking idiot!"

The tyres screech to a halt. You're almost certain you can smell burnt rubber.

Around you, the road is empty. You're just a few blocks over from the bridge, not far enough for the coast to be clear, and you both know it. There's silence. No static from his radio, no chatter of former lovers; just his engine, purring softly, echoing into the night.

Neon lights from the amalgamation of churches and noraebangs rain down on you through his windows, painting your skin in a red haze. The beam of his headlights on the road ahead is intrusive, decrepit buildings shown in all their miserable glory; paint peeling from the walls, rust forming beneath nails like tears on cheeks, railings covering windows to keep outdated electronics protected. You hate this area. Always have done. Can't believe you used to consider it home.

"Fine then," he snaps. "Get out. Walk yourself home. See what I care. Don't get hit."

He expects resistance. Expects you to defy him. It's what he wants. Wants you choosing to stay - but like fuck are you gonna let him speak to you like that.

It's so hard knowing what's false with Jungkook. 

Some days, you think it was all ingenuine; that you've never seen the real him. 

On others, you tell yourself that the version of Jungkook you'd first met on the bridge was a facade; that you'd worn him down. Seen within. 

Most days, though, you believe the version of Jungkook you'd met on that very first night is exactly who he is. 

Everything that followed? A carefully crafted performance for an audience of one.

And now it seems like he wants a standing ovation - and who are you to deny such a skilled actor his applause?

Yanking just hard enough to piss him off, you pop open your door and stand beside the car. Applause comes in form of his door slamming shut, and the click of your heels piercing the emptiness in the air as you walk up the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" He shouts after you from his window - but you just hold your middle finger up in his direction and continue onwards. "C?"

You wouldn't tell him even if you knew. All you know is that you selfishly kind of hope he'll call after you again. He does. You smile to yourself, and ignore him. 

Cursing to himself in the driver's seat of his car, he revs the engine back up. 

There's a sinking feeling in your chest, but you're the one who put it there. 

Only have yourself to blame.

You choose not to watch as his car hurtles past you. The sound is soul-destroying enough as it is.

Jungkook takes a moment to consider his choices. The obvious is to let you go - but he's done that once before, and has hated it ever since. He knows chasing after you will only end in him chasing his own tail, but he's been doing that ever since you left, as it is. What difference will it make? At least this way he can say he tried.

He pulls into a side road.

Derelict and dilapidated, it's no place for a car like his - but then again nowhere in this city is. He sticks out like a sore thumb. None of the other Pony's are polished quite so well, no have been lowered like his. None of them rag about in the dark of night, only for him to fix his faux pas in the light of day the following morning. He'll never let it rust. Never let it falter. Never let it down; and in turn, it won't let him down either.

It will always take him exactly where he needs to be - and right now, he thinks it's beside you.

Slamming his door shut far gentler than you had, Jungkook pushes the key into its lock and twists it shut. He doesn't want to use the electric locks today. Feels like the only way to do things right is to go analogue. Old school.

Wishes there was a way he could go back in time with you, too.

His feet splash in the shallow puddles as he trundles back down the alley on foot, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. He's still in his workout gear - a pair of joggers and some beat-up trainers - but doesn't care for keeping up appearances.

He waits as you approach. You notice him immediately, but make no acknowledgement of his presence. Just keep on walking. Even when he begins to walk alongside you, not a single word is spoken. Cars pass by, passengers gazing out of their windows at the strange pair walking side by side yet miles apart. 

You wonder if they make assumptions about you like you know would.

If you were to see yourself, you'd guess that you were angry. A couple in the midst of a fight but too far from home to go your separate ways, maybe. The way your arms are crossed definitely suggests ice to the relationship, but of what the relationship is, you don't think you'd be able to tell. Lovers? Friends? Enemies? All of the above?

You wonder if they'll make up a life for you both. Wonder if they'll resolve the argument they must think you're having. Consider that maybe in their mind, you get a happy ending.

Maybe your observers will be just as naive as you once were. A fool with a fragile heart who gave it to a man who didn't know his strength.

Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he just never cared if he were to break it.

Jeon Jungkook; a rebel with a cause, just without care.

Asshole, you think. Wind whips loose stands hair against your face, cold despite the heat of summer that has now arrived. A storm is coming this evening, but you don't plan on being around to see it.

It's a shame. You've been looking forward to it. Hoseok's away. Work retreat to Yeosu. Some sort of training programme. You had anticipated a night alone watching the raindrops sinking down his apartment window.

The idea of going 'home' right now doesn't appeal to you. 

Though when you come to think about it, home is standing next to you as you wait at a zebra crossing, waiting on a green light.

When green lights up the sky, you continue forward. Take a left a left when you reach the hospital. Walk seemingly without direction and yet there's only one place this road leads to. Jungkook knows it well. Isn't really sure what you're doing. Thinks you're playing some kind of joke.

And yet he doesn't speak up. Just follows. 

The sign of the KTX station lights up the walkway, the rattle of overground trains polluting the silence between you. There are only a few more services for the night, but it means that freight trains are gearing into action, and they're so much louder than the passenger trains.

As much as he might not know what you're doing, you don't know either. Haven't really thought any of this through. 

All you know is you just don't want to stop walking with him. 

You hate yourself for it. Hate how weak he makes you feel. Hate that he gets to be okay and just live his life after ruining yours. Maybe you're misplacing your blame. Know full well that you've made some bad decisions as of late. Would take them back if you could.

Jungkook is one of those bad decisions you wish you could undo. If only life came with a rewind button. Ctrl+Z. Reboot. Restore to factory settings. 

And yet the idea of not knowing him - the sound of his laugh in the early hours of a Sunday morning, the feel of his cheeks a few days post-shave, the pressure of his lips on the crown of your head - fills you with dread. You may hate the memories, but you don't want to lose them, either.

You know Daegu's KTX station well. Hanger left as you enter, straight towards the self-service kiosks. Pick one that accepts card, then rest your palms on the pale blue plastic casing of the machine. There's a touchscreen full of choices - endless opportunities - but Daegu's KTX autofill route is the only one that you care for. The only one that feels right. 

Busan.

You tap through to the next menu, ignoring Jungkook's presence beside you. You don't care what he does. Are only thinking about yourself. 

Funny, really. He's only thinking about you.

Jungkook knocks your hand to the side to stop you from pressing through to the transaction screen. He reaches over a little further. Presses the small plus sign next to 'passengers'. Says nothing as it jumps from '1' to '2'. 

You just watch as he clicks on through to the following screen, and slides his card into the slot that's flashing green at you. There's no conversation. No acknowledgement of what he's done; just acceptance. 

The machine spits out the tickets into a metal tray, so you take yours and turn on your heel, leaving him to collect his own. He can follow you if he likes. You won't wait for him. 

Realistically, it's not like you'll be apart for long. The assigned seats are side by side.

Of course, you could just leave. Buy a ticket elsewhere. Go home. Head down towards the subway and lose him in a sea of people.

The possibilities are endless.

Yet you find yourself checking the departure screen for train 071, instead. 

The menu flickers through the upcoming departures, before finally falling back to the screen 071 is on. Platform two, departing in four minutes. 

It's enough time to get to your track, but not enough time to run to your favourite coffee stand. You just sigh. Today is just disappointment after disappointment. 

Jungkook walks straight past you. Makes no acknowledgement of you. 

Just heads towards the exit for the tracks. Another sigh leaves your lips.

But you find yourself following him.

You're the one orbiting him, now.

And like the planets you're convinced rule your life, it doesn't feel like you can stop any time soon.

Your train is already on the platform by the time you make it down the stairs, quietly purring in its bay. Doing one final check of the platform, the conductor blows his whistle just as you're hopping on. 

Heading down the aisle, you're displeased to see the train is only half full, knowing it means your assigned seats will be beside one another - and once you reach carriage four, you can see the top of his head poking out from the row you've been allocated.

It's interesting how he's taken the aisle seat, when his ticket is for the window. Still, questioning it means engaging in conversation, and you're still pretending like he doesn't exist - to the point where you don't ask him to move. You just step over him, and cringe at the way you know your ass brushes the top of his knees from the awkward positioning.

If he were in a better mood, he'd smile, aware of your annoyance and the fact you're probably cursing out your own ass in your head.

But Jungkook is in a foul fucking mood, and all he wants to do is hold your goddamn hand. 

He knows can't. 

So he won't. 

He'll just sit, and stew, and lament the fact he's on a train to fucking Busan with you.

The jokes he knows he would have cracked six months ago are lost, now. There'll be no nonsensical conversations over who would die first in a zombie apocalypse, no dumb declarations from Jungkook about how he'd protect you no matter what.

Would have been a lie, anyway. 

In the row ahead of you, a teenage couple share a pair of headphones. 

Between the crack in the seats, you can see their heads leaning together, hairs melting into one another. The girl is peroxide blonde, but has dark roots growing through. It's a bit like Jungkook's hair used to be. Her (presumed) boyfriend has a streak of blonde peaking through his dark hair. She no doubt did it for him (again, you presume). The sight of it makes you feel sick.

Jungkook notices it too. Watches as the girl flicks through the boys playlist. Searches up a song he doesn't know, and presses play. When she locks the phone and puts it down on her boyfriends lap, she shuffles closer against him. Jungkook feels a little unwell, too.

The silence continues.

It's only 45 minutes to Busan. Not a long haul by any stretch of the imagination - and yet it feels endless this evening. When the train eventually rolls into his hometown, Jungkook thinks he's going crazy. Hates being alone with his brain. Hates that you hate being alone with him, too.

The hushed nature of your pairing prevails as you make your way onto the subway. Rammed full of late-night punters, you're forced to stand by the entryway. He stands behind you, and holds the bar that's over your head. Doesn't say sorry when the movements of the carriage cause him to lean against you slightly. He pulls away from you as quickly as he can, but you're surprised to find that you miss the weight of his body.

But of course you do. You've been missing it for months, now.

The subway trundles through underground tunnels, metal screeching every so often, more and more passengers departing - until it's just you and him. You take a seat, and so does he. You're opposite one another, eyes unashamed as you stare one another out. There's no trust. You're like cats, stalking their prey.

Or should that be you're like a cat. Jungkook is a lion. Could rip you to shreds if he wants. Has done it before. Your scars are barely healed. Can still feel him all over your skin. It's insidious. Makes you want to take a fucking potato peeler to your body, just to rid yourself of your memories.

The way he looks at you, all dark and brooding, like he's some kind of 90's heartthrob that never stood the test of time, makes your fingerprint-shaped scars burn.

You ride the subway until the very final stop; not because you wanted to, just because you were following his lead.

Stupid, really. He was following yours. Of course he was.

The static voice of the automated alert lets you know you've reached Dadaepo.

Jungkook knows it well. Was his favourite place to explore as a kid. A hidden rocky alcove just beyond the cliff walk was the site of many discoveries as a kid; sea glass, bugs he can't remember the names of, and - in his later years - the scent of marijuana.

The fact you're still giving one another the silent treatment is comically unbelievable. It's been upwards of two hours since his car door slammed shut back in Daegu. Even longer, actually. Closer to three hours.

There's something so childish about how petty you both are - but at least this way, you can't miscommunicate. 

You just don't communicate at all, and you think you prefer it that way.

The waves roll in as you sit, staring at nothing. Side by side. Miles apart. It all becomes a bit much for Jungkook. He knows he shouldn't make a sound, but he thinks he likes it better when you fight. At least that way he gets to hear your voice, no matter how scathing it can be.

"The last train back is in half an hour," Jungkook says quietly, unsure of how much time has passed. Dadaepo is fifty minutes away from the station. You'll have missed it, and are fully aware of it.

So you just shrug.

"Not have a fiancé to get home to?" He questions, and almost manages not to sound bitter. Almost.

Again, you shrug.

Hoseok is away for the week - an all-expenses training retreat over in Yeosu. 

When your Father had still been in the police force, before moving into local politics, he'd gone on the same training programme. It's a yearly excursion. Just an excuse to get shitfaced with his crew and a chance to slip his wedding ring into his wallet, knowing your mother would never find out.

She'd always know. She was the one who did his laundry, after all.

Unlike your mother, however, you won't spend the week in a foul mood because of it.

That's not to say you won't spend the week in a foul mood - it's just that the reason for your awful mood is currently sitting next to you looking over the East China Sea. 

"You should stop concerning yourself with my life," you tell him, voice quiet - but he hears you crystal clear, regardless. He's listening out for only you. Fuck the waves, fuck the dog walkers, fuck the traffic and the coffee shop soundtrack blaring just a few feet behind the woodland. You're the only one he hears.

He considers saying nothing, but just can't help himself - so he scoffs, and says, "shall I stop breathing, too, while I'm at it?"

It's a stupid comparison to make. His life doesn't depend on you. You tell him so.

"You need to breathe to stay alive. You never needed me to stay alive." 

Never needed me at all.

"I don't know, C. Kang was pretty pissed when we let you get away," he says as he purses his lips. It's a miracle his nose still looks the same as it always did - unless it just got broken so many times that it somehow snapped back into place.

Thing is, Jungkook's not really thinking about that. The pain subdued. After a few weeks, it was like it never happened.

But the ache in his chest remained. His one source of chronic pain, and you're the one who held the knife. Sure, he's the one who guided your hands. Pulled them into his chest. Inflicted it upon himself. 

"Your coworker," Jungkook finally sighs. He's not even sure why he's asking. He doesn't want the answer. "Is it... The ring. Is it him?"

And while you want to hurt Jungkook as much as you possibly can without laying a single finger on him, you know you've done Yoongi enough damage. Makes you sick thinking about his tender face; the way it'd light up around you. You think of Jieun, and the time spent together in the shop and it's so consuming that you can't even think of an appropriate response to Jungkook.

"Yoongi," you correct, but Jungkook already knew his name. Just didn't wanna acknowledge him as more than a meagre colleague. "No. It's not Yoongi."

But just for a night? It had been Yoongi. Or was it two nights? Your head taunts you. You fucked Yoongi. Fucked his life up. Fucked it all. Whatever becomes of you is what you deserve.

Jungkook is unaware of this as he clamps his lips together to stop the smile that's begging to break through his hard exterior.

"You ever..." You begin to mumble, but then realise who you're talking to. You don't want to converse with him. "Nevermind."

He knows this. Doesn't care. "Have I ever what?"

There's a moment of silence; waves lapping against the shoreline in place of your words.

"You ever do something that just destroys you?" 

Your words linger like the brief seconds waves will take to kiss the shoreline; white bubbles sinking into sand, murky water retracing its steps and dissolving into the currents.

"Destroys you?" he asks, not because he needs clarification, but because he can't possibly imagine what you've done.

You simply nod.

And so he takes a moment to think. Decides it's about time he gave you some honesty.

"Yeah," he says gently. Can see there's something you're grappling with. Doesn't want to intrude, though. "I've done things that have destroyed me, C. You know I have."

The silence resumes once more. It's louder now.

If you listen closely enough, you can hear that chime in your stomach again. It's faint. You ignore it.

Jungkook can hear it too. It rings and rings like tinnitus. He can't ignore it. He can pretend that he detests it, though.

Moonlight ripples on the surface of the water. It rolls into shore, then pulls away again. Gets just close enough to touch, but not far enough to soak your feet.

It runs away from you as soon as it gets close, and the irony isn't lost on Jungkook. He'd always thought you'd behaved like the moon and her tides, after all. Cyclic. Endless. Eternal.

It sort of feels apt that you'd end up back here.

Yeah, he thinks as he refuses to look in your direction. Too consumed with the way the vast expanse almost looks like a black hole. Just like the tides.

But waves can roll up on any beach, and the moon caresses every inch of the earth during her slumber. There's nothing unique about the pair of you. Nothing special. 

Insignificance has always been a fear of his. A life that could be chalked up to birth, then death; records in a library system forgotten about for years upon years. His impact? Null.

He'd seen it with his mother - her vibrancy, her love for life, for others - and how she'd all but been forgotten. Sometimes, he feels like he's the only one who remembers her.

Even his father seems to forget why he's in such a sorry state. His brother has a new family, now. And what does Jungkook have?

No family. That disintegrated. Yeah, they're still around, but they're not present. Not there for him when he needs them.

No career. Sure, he can get work wherever electricity is, but he's under Kang's thumb, now. He trains, and he fights. Time for honest work is non-existent.

No love. He's never been the type to need a relationship, but he'd gotten a little foolish. Gotten used to the comfort of another human. Now that he knows what it feels like - how nice it can be - he feels half alive without it.

The Jungkook beside you is just the same as the Jungkook you first met.

He's a little stronger, a little broader. Is missing a few of his piercings, and wears his hair dark now instead of the blonde you had always adored.

He's exactly the same, and yet forever changed.

He digs his fingers into the sand beside his thighs. The grains slip through the hollow gaps between his knuckles. Even the things within his grasp always seems to get away from him. 

He hates the silence. Hates that he never knows what to say anymore.

And thankfully for him, you hate it just as much. 

"Fighting a lot, these days, aren't you?" You ask, not that you need any clarification. You saw a note in one of Hoseok's files earlier on in the week. Just a small scrawl about Kang's, and the illegal gambling ring he's running. JJK had been written down, with a set of odds next to his name. Pretty good odds. Baby is a champion. You'd be proud, if the circumstances weren't so harrowing.

"Not any more so than usual," he lies, shutting down the conversation as soon as you start it. He just can't help himself. It's like he's hard-wired to fight.

You turn to look in his direction and are momentarily caught by how ethereal he looks when basking in silver moonlight. The tip of his nose looks cold, and yet his eyes are warm. Watery. Welcoming you to dive right in.

Sink, or swim?

He's got a bruise on the top of his cheekbone, and a small graze just in front of his ear. It's clear to see that he's been through the wringer recently. There's really no point in lying to you.

"No?" You ask, just to let him know you're aware he's full of shit.

"What does it matter if I am?"

"It doesn't."

And so silence settles again. Neither of you know how to interact with one another anymore. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you both hate it - and yet there's nowhere either of you would rather be. No one else you'd rather be in discomfort with.

Time gets away from you. It chases through the night, just like his car used to do down the backroads of Daegu, with you in the passenger seat and your hand beneath his on the gear stick.

You wonder if he ever thinks of it; if he ever thinks of you in the same way you think of him. 

You don't ask him, because no matter what the answer will be, you'll convince yourself it's a lie.

Midnight creeps in, and so does the chill of night air. It may be summer, but the sea breeze can be biting at times.

Jungkook's fine - his workout gear is keeping the heat in well, but you're underdressed. Huddled up and clearly not enjoying yourself but refusing to voice discomfort, Jungkook is the one who forces you up. Says it's stupid to still be out by the water. Tells you that there will be loads of bugs about, soon.

You both know that the bugs have been out since dusk. Leaving now makes no difference.

Ignoring the hand he holds out as you get to your feet, you rid your legs of sand, and head towards the pathway through the small wooded area. 

Neither of you have any idea what to do. The keys in Jungkook's pockets are rendered useless, his car still down in a back alley of Daegu, and the buses have stopped running. Subway, too. 

You've no bag with you, just your phone (that's dangerously low on charge) and a card tucked into the back of the case. 

Jungkook's phone is new. Holds it's charge well. He's not worried about it.

He's got his wallet, too, so at least he's a little bit more foreign-city-ready than you'd been upon your decision to run off to Busan. He's glad he came with you, now.

He figures he'll just stay at his Dad's place - but it means getting a taxi, and he really can't be fucked with an hour's drive this late at night.

He's unaware that the card in the back of your phone isn't yours. It's under Hoseok's name. He gets a notification every time it's used. It's why you're so selective about how you spend your money. 

You've no ID with you, either. Left it in your purse back in Hoseok's apartment. Hadn't really expected to end up in Busan, in all honestly.

Especially not with Jungkook.

If you wanna check in to a hotel - which is the only option, really - you're gonna need your ID. Standard policy around these parts. No ID, no room.

You tell Jungkook this. 

He sighs. Grates his jaw a little. 

"And you didn't think that maybe it would be smart to take your ID out with you? What if you'd gotten in an accident, huh? No one would have known who to call, 'cause they wouldn't know who you are."

"I was hardly gonna get in an acci-"

"How do you know?" He cuts you off. "You can't plan these kinds of things, CC. Accidents just happen."

"Is that what this is, then?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest as you walk a little further away from him up the sandy sidewalk. "Another calamity of yours? Just ended up here accidentally?"

Sometimes, he considers kissing you just to stop your from spouting off at him over nonsensical issues.

Jungkook thinks it's obvious he ended up in Busan for one reason, and one reason alone:

He'll follow you to the end of the earth, if it means he gets to be with you. 

He's hardly gonna tell you that, though, is he?

"Ended up here cause I missed the beach-" And I missed you, too. "- but it's late," Jungkook says as you meander back up the sidewalk without much aim, and nods across the road to a beachfront hotel. "Let's just crash here and figure out how to get home in the morning?"

For reasons you can't understand, you find yourself agreeing. When you explain that you can't use your card, he shrugs. Says he'll cover it. Says he doesn't care. 

It's a different story when you're in the hotel. 

The presence of the concierge makes you feel unsure of yourself. Reminds you of how embarrassed you are by what Jungkook did to you; how foolish you had felt. You feel the need to defend yourself.

"Do you have any suites available?" You ask the concierge with a smile so sweet it could rot his inside. He thinks you're sweet. Thinks Jungkook should smile more. Knows he'd be smiling if he had you alone in a hotel room.

"All booked out, I'm afraid," the concierge says as he checks the screen in front of him. The glare reflects in his glasses, and you wonder how many times he's been caught out looking at things he shouldn't. Not just at work, but in general. He seems like a sweet kid - but a kid nonetheless.

"What's the most expensive room you have available, then?" You query instead.

Jungkook shakes his head. Looks at his feet. Tenses his jaw. Thinks you're fucking unbelievable.

You know he's got money problems. Know he's fending off sharks from his poor Father's back. Know that the only reason he fucked you over was to finally have a decent payday.

And yet you choose to do this? Knowing he won't kick up a fuss in public?

Spineless bitch. Spiteful. 

But, oh, how you love to hit him where it hurts.

The concierge is none the wiser of Jungkook's discomfort. Tells you both that there's a deluxe sea-view room left.

"It's gone midnight, so I can give you a discounted rate," he says, and still quotes a price that would make even a black card owner raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook looks at you. Holds your gaze. Passes over his card. Waits till the concierge is retrieving your keys to hiss, "you're the most expensive mistake I've ever made."

You just smile. "Shouldn't live life with regrets. They give you wrinkles."

"And stress gives you grey hair," he counters, insinuating that you've got some growing through. The concierge returns to his position behind the desk, so Jungkook plays his role up. "You been stressed lately, baby?"

The concierge coughs. Holds out your key. "Seventh floor. Follow the corridor from the elevator right to the end, and you'll find room number one." Jungkook takes the key with a polite nod. "If you need anything else, the front desk is open twenty-four hours. I do hope you enjoy your stay."

The tension between you and Jungkook is palpable. The little routine you've cooked up in which neither of you speak unless it's to bait each other out continues. Doesn't end until you're in the room - and what a fucking room it is. 

Crisp white sheets on a bed that is far too big; a bathtub in the corner of the room instead of the bathroom. Huge windows that let the midnight view of the ocean pour in, and chiffon curtains that will keep you hidden from the outside world. You won't close the blinds. Will want the morning sunlight to bathe you in its glory; make you feel like you belong to the days instead of the nights. 

So much of your relationship with Jungkook was hidden in the shadows of Daegu nights, but it had been different in Busan. It's hard to pretend as if you don't miss it.

Hard, but not impossible.

You toss him a pillow and the stiff cotton throw from the end of the bed. "Here. The bathtub looks cosy. Sweet dreams."

"I'm not sleeping in the fucking bath," he laughs, but it's full of scorn. He finds no humour in this situation. "If I pay for a hotel room, I'm sleeping in the bed. Bath is all yours."

And yet you stay put.

When Jungkook turns off the main light? You stay put.

When he grasps the back of his sweater and pulls it over his head? You stay put.

When he says, 'No? Not fancy the bath?' as he tosses the pillow you had thrown at him back onto the empty side of the bed? You stay put.

When he walks around to that side? When he pushes the duvet back? When his weight dents the mattress? The scent of his aftershave intrudes on your senses? The sound of his bare skin nestling into the sheets is all you can hear? When he turns his back to you? Turns off the bedside lamp?

You stay fucking put.

And you know you shouldn't, and know that this is all kinds of wrong, but my god, it's all you've wanted for months: the past. All that's missing is your arm looped over his waist.

When he turns to face you? Looks at you, eyes all glassy, lips pursed? Tries to get a read on you?

You don't move a muscle. Just look at him right back. Wonder how he can still look so beautiful in such darkness. Wonder if his hair always spilt onto the pillow as it does now, and you'd just never realised when he was blonde. 

And then you wonder if maybe someone else had been in this position with him during your absence. 

It would be okay if they have. Wouldn't be their fault. Wouldn't be his, either. You're the one who left. Have a ring around your finger, now, no matter how loosely. Would be incredibly unfair to expect Jungkook to spend the last few months alone.

But the more you think about it, the more you get caught up in your own head, and how he'd kissed you beneath his shower, skin coated in red dye. Has you thinking about the way he'd always kiss you as he came, and the 'forever's he'd whispered in the dark of night. 

So fucking cruel of him. He always knew that forever wasn't an option. There was no reason he had to pretend there was.

And maybe you're just tired, or maybe you've just been keeping it all bottled up for so long that the pressure had finally reached full capacity, but you just can't help yourself as you say, "why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

Your brows furrow. Lips pout. You know what's coming and you can't even be bothered to stop the tears. Maybe he should know how badly he affected you. Maybe it's the only way he'll understand. Maybe then he'll care.

For now, you can't bring yourself to think too hard. You just let the tears fall.

"C'mon, C," Jungkook whispers as his thumb strokes over your cheek. His hands are a little rough. He's been working on his car a lot lately, and hasn't taken time to look after himself, instead. It's self-sabotage. Thinks he doesn't deserve to feel good. Physically, mentally, whatever. "This isn't you."

Oh, it's laughable. Hilarious, you think, that he seems to think he knows who the fuck you are. You wanna scream. Wanna tell him that he knows fuck all. Tell him that you never let him see even an ounce of what makes you 'you'.

Denial is a strange thing. Has you lying to yourself like it's a bible oath. Jeon Jungkook knows exactly who you are. You just wish that he didn't.

"You've no idea who I am," you whisper back through partially gritted teeth, that are stopping your sobs from leaking through.

Jungkook purses his lips together. Shakes his head. Strokes away another tear. Is almost silent when manages to croak out, "I wish that were true." 

And you might be wrong, but it sounds like he's holding back a tear or two, as well. 

You reach over to toy with the key around his neck. It's warm in your fingers, the heat of his skin keeping it cosy. It's amazing how warm he always is, you think. Never met anyone like it. When your eyes flick up to his, ever so briefly, you notice that they seem warm, too. Just a byproduct of his body temperature, you decide. 

"Why coke?" You whisper as you bring the key to your lips. Press it against them, just to feel the pressure of something that belongs to him.

He'd kiss you now, if you asked him to.

But you won't, so he doesn't. 

He just shrugs instead. 

"Why do we do anything of the things we do, C?" He pauses, but doesn't anticipate a response from you. Just continues, instead. "To feel alive? To feel closer to death? I don't know."

Lost one drug, he thinks to himself. It's just a replacement. 

And it's funny, because aside from the lines he'd snorted on the first night you'd returned just to fucking cope with it all, he's not touched it. Thinks if he could just touch you, he'd never go near coke again. 

You hold the key to his lips, now. Wait for him to press his lips against it. He does so, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Funny. Seems the key works on something, after all.

When you pull the key away, you let the chain hang slack, before dropping it to his chest. The ridges of the metal are sharp against his skin, but he's numb to it. Can only feel the print of your fingertips and the scars that are embedded into his skin from them.

"You should stop," you whisper, stroking down the bridge of his nose with the side of your index finger. His eyes close. Jaw tenses. He inhales. "It'll ruin this pretty nose of yours."

And then he smiles; eyes still closed, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth. 

But the tepid movement of your finger doesn't stop. It reaches the tip of his nose. Trails down his septum. Encroaches on his cupid bow - and then it comes to rest on his lips.

Just like the key, he presses against it. Kisses the side of your finger. Keeps his eyes closed. Lets it linger. 

He hears the change in your breathing. How you inhale a little sharper than before. How it sounds painful. 

Doesn't wanna open his eyes. Doesn't want to look at you, knowing that you'll probably look so tragically hurt that it would be captivating, in a way. He'd wanna kiss it all better, but knows better than to attempt such a thing. 

"I don't think I can, C," he eventually says. Opens his eyes. Is devastated by your beauty. "Don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

You both know he isn't talking about coke.

"Then it'll ruin you," you whisper, pretending as if you still are.

He just nods. "So let it."

[buckttommy]

Okay, this is a novel. Go with me.

I'm not saying anyone's interpretation of canon is wrong, but I've seen some people interpreting the graveyard scene as Buck still trying to be something he's not in order to earn/maintain the love of the people he cares about and I just... don't agree with that at all. Where Buck is now is an in-between state. He's not the same person he was before the lightning strike, but he's also not the person he's meant to be after the lightning strike either. Not yet. So he's tucked in this Magical and Confusing World of Almost, where he's almost figured out all the pieces to the puzzle, and he almost knows who he is outside of people's expectations, and he's almost connected the plethora of dots drawn between himself and Eddie, but he's not there yet.

So when Buck says, "I feel like I have to be the same old Buck, mostly for everyone else," that's not him saying he thinks he won't be loved if he's not the same old Buck. That's him saying he's stuck as the same old Buck because he has no idea who to be and, where he is now, no one else can tell him who to be, just like when he asked Hen if she was "at ease" in 6x02. He is constantly looking for answers that nobody but himself can find or give. But he doesn't want anyone to worry in the interim, especially not when everyone else he knows already regards his death with far more depth and trauma than he himself regards it with. So he remains "the same old Buck." This idea also ties into his conversation with Natalia over lunch.

Buck told Eddie that he, in some way, felt like Natalia saw more in him than he saw in himself, but I'm so intrigued by that piece of dialogue, mainly because we didn't actually see the entirety of their conversation. We saw Natalia's fascination and Buck's intrigue (and, dare I say, discomfort!) by her fascination, but we didn't actually see anything beyond Buck beginning to tell her about his coma dream. So what is it that she sees? I think she sees exactly what he said to Eddie—that he got away with something he shouldn't have.

Natalia treats him like an anomaly because he is. No one else in Buck's life treats him like that.

They know him. They love him. They grieved for him. And when he came back to life and came out of the coma, they celebrated him and his return. But. They don't treat Buck dying and coming back as the anomaly, the rarity that it is. And I think this is a perfect example of a situation in which Buck is struggling to find the happy middle. His family treats his death with all the pain and gravitas inherent to literally seeing someone you love die and hang limply, helplessly, in the air, whereas Natalia treats his death with too much glee, too much fascination. And as much as he loves his family, and as much as he's intrigued by Natalia, Buck doesn't need either of those things.

What Buck needs is for someone to acknowledge both aspects of his death: that it was scary and sad and traumatizing, yes, but also that it was something out of a film. Something that shouldn't exist but did. And I think once Buck finds that? Once he looks within himself and allows both of those realities to coexist and inform his processing and who he is, then he will be on his way to finding the peace he's so desperately craving. But until then, he'll struggle with his voice, with Natalia's voice, with the voices of everyone he loves all saying different things on completely different ends of the same spectrum. Which is hard in ordinary circumstances, but especially in this one, in which matters of life or death are explicitly in play.

Buck is loved by his family. He knows he's loved by his family and, overbearing as they are/can be, he recognizes their love and loves them for it in turn. But in 6x11, Buck finally came to a place where Being Buck was enough for him. Now he has to redefine what that means to him. Which doesn't mean that the current version of himself that he's playing pretend at is wrong or lesser, only that this current version is ill-fitting now and he's struggling to find an identity that's the "right size," especially with several different voices (his own included) telling him how he should feel and respond to life-altering trauma.

I'm not the costume meta person here, that title belongs to the lovely Kym, but I'm assuming Buck's internal struggle also calls back to the wardrobe choices made in 5x14 too. The choice to have Eddie and Buck in the same/similar clothes they wore during their outing to the equestrian center only illuminates to me what we already knew: that Buck's 6B arc is a speed-run through Eddie's 5B arc, in that they both dealt with the nuanced complexities of similar traumas. Eddie dealt with horrendous survivor's guilt following the loss of his team, and Buck, too, is dealing with a similar brand of "left behind" confusion. Eddie was the only one "left behind" in that he's the only one who survived everything his squad went through, but Buck is dealing with it in the sense that death came and robbed him of something, but he's still "left behind" to pick up the pieces.

Both men have struggled immensely with the idea of cheating death, of living on borrowed time (though both concepts are outlined more explicitly in Buck's arc than it was in Eddie's), but the similarities of their trajectories are important to note because they will both, ultimately, lead to the same place—to the realization that cheating death and living on borrowed time means you have to, subsequently, do something with that time. Buck says it himself a the end of the scene: every day, from the point of death onward, is a gift, one that must be embraced before time runs out.

Time is running out for Buck and Eddie, but not in an entirely ominous way. Time is running out in the sense that both are rapidly becoming aware of that fact that days wasted aren't just days wasted; they are gifts that are going discarded without being embraced to the fullest. And when they finally sort themselves out, I believe that realization is going to hit them the hardest. Because it won't be so much the idea that "we could have had this, we could have had each other, sooner if we weren't so afraid," but the realization that "we were happy and we were okay, but we weren't as happy or okay as we could have been," and that's a hard pill to swallow for two men who have lived chunks of their lives playing against the nebulous, overwhelming nature of time.

I'm sure they'll figure it out—both together and individually—they always do. But in the meantime, the slow crush of both of their feelings against each other, and against the audience, is nothing short of agonizing.

Get it together, boys. I'm on my knees begging. Work it out for the sake of your hearts and mine. I can't take this much longer lol

[mariasont]

hi hi hi!!! i know you’re working on the bau sleepover buttttt i was wondering if you could write a aaron hotchner x reader fic where like what happened to garcia, reader gets shot and she’s in hospital and they don’t know if she gonna be okay and stuff. her and hotch have this mutual pining for each other and when she gets shot he kinda spirals. after being released, hotch takes her to her apartment and stays with her until they catch him and stuff. i know this is really long, thank you!!!

Some Profiler You Are - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi thank you so so sooo much for requesting <3 i kind of took this a more fluffy route and focused more on the recovery so let me know if you like it :)

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader was shot, comfort, angst like a teensy bit, fluff, changing of bandages, kinda shitty ending per usual

wc: 2k

"Do you want to sit down?"

No, you really didn't. After spending the last six hours in a state of near-motionlessness, sprawled across various surfaces, the last thing you wanted was to do was sit down. Your legs had taken on the consistency of overcooked noodles, so you made the grave mistake of misreading the quiet of the house as Hotch's absence, a mistake punctuated by the garage door's sudden rumble.

You should have known better than to assume he would leave you alone for even a second. Now, you were face to face, his scrutinizing eyes boring into yours, arms crossed across his wide chest. He was in a casual zip-up--a rarity that you never imagined him wearing before practically moving in with him. But you really did enjoy this relaxed side of him, he wore it exceptionally well.

Taking work off was a concept you knew was foreign him, yet here he was, not at his desk, hovering over you like a concerned parent. The entire office, yourself included, gaped at him as if he had sprouted a different head when he told them. His next move was even crazier--he insisted you stay with him while you recovered.

You protested. A lot. Shocker. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Again, Shocker.

You winced as you stepped forward, your hands automatically gravitating to the bandage that spanned around your thigh.

"You can't baby me forever, Hotch," you murmured, though your conviction wavered under the dull throb in your leg.

You braced yourself against the counter, trying to mask the discomfort you were sure was etched all over your face.

Filling the shoes of the communications liaison for the FBI post-JJ's shift to profiling, you signed up for a life of managing the media narrative, being the conduit between local and federal levels, and choosing the cases. You provided assistance in ways that aren't glaringly obvious.

What you didn't sign up for is getting shot.

The movies, the stories, even the firsthand accounts from coworkers--none of it could brace you for the raw, blistering pain of a gunshot wound. It fucking hurt. And the recovery? It was a different kind of torture, and you'd even argue that it was worse.

"It's not babying, it's common sense," Hotch countered.

He was frustrated. You had that effect. He stepped closer, his hand dragging down his face. "You took a bullet. It's still in your leg. It's perfectly rational for me to want to prevent any unnecessary strain on you."

"Feels dramatic," you shrugged, but he was right, like always.

Your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles growing white as you struggled to keep the pain under wraps. His brows lifted in response.

"I'm fine, really, Hotch. I hate this. You're probably dying to get back to work--don't let me be the reason you don't. Despite popular belief, I'm quite capable of fending for myself."

"I'm aware," he said, his attention briefly shifting to your bandaged leg. You were wearing shorts, a choice that felt less than appropriate, but practicality trumped formality under these circumstances. "Work will survive without me. I'm not sure I can say the same about you."

Your laughter was short-lived, swiftly turning into a stifled grimace as your footing slipped. Hotch's reflexes were quick, his hands steadying you--one against your ribs, the other just shy above the hem of your shorts.

"Point in case."

"Poking fun at a wounded woman? Shame on you, Hotch," you chided, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. His eyes darted to it momentarily.

He didn't move, his hands staying put, stirring a gentle, jelly-like feeling inside of you.

This was an odd sort of comfort, the kind you're not supposed to feel with your boss. You shouldn't be talking to him like this, shouldn't be in his kitchen, and certainly, his hands shouldn't be where they were. But the ache in your heart didn't seem to care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Hotch's presence was hard to ignore. He was reducing the space with every word.

"You're hardly acting like a wounded woman," he pointed out. "You should be in bed."

You tilted your head, sliding onto the barstool to carve some much-needed space between you. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and you needed distance to gather your wits before you did something that HR would definitely not look kindly upon.

The action was a mistake, a fact that became painfully clear as the feeling of something stabbing into your leg took hold. You tried to muster a smile, but you were sure it came across as a snarl. The last thing you wanted was to inflate Hotch's ego by showing that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Shit."

You followed his line of sight, landing on the fresh red seeping through the bandage and staining your shorts. Oh. That's not great. Don't think you can fool him with this one.

Hotch didn't hesitate, his response outpacing your own surge of panic, which was incredibly fast, because you were panicking and frankly not that great with blood. His hands were on your skin, easing the hem of your shorts upward to lay bare the wound you had stupidly  underestimated.

You're never going on a date again.

I mean, the only reason you even went was to get your boss of your mind. Since the first day, you'd been hopelessly drawn to him--how could you not be?

But there are a couple factors to consider.

Firstly, he was your boss, and the whole notion of a coercive relationship dynamic seemed problematic.

Secondly, there's the age difference; it had never been an issue for you--perhaps a reflection of your daddy issues--but you knew it would raise some eyebrows.

And thirdly, he didn't even like you back. That was, of course, the biggest issue. If not for this, the other concerns could definitely be overlooked. 

Before this whole incident, he barely acknowledged you beyond was professionally required of him. You knew you hadn't been part of the team long enough to bond--though you weren't sure Hotch did bond in the usual sense, but the point was made.

You were fairly sure you hadn't made much of an impression on him.

"Hold still." That was a tall order, considering it hurt more than a mother fucker.

You found yourself glaring at him--not that he was to blame, but you needed to anchor your frustration on something, or someone. Unknowingly, your grip had latched on the fabric of his zip-up, but he seemed unfazed. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, pressing it against the wound, only furthering the colorful vocabulary going on in your head.

"Fuck, Hotch."

You didn't make a habit of cursing in front of your superior, but the sharp sting forced tears to the brink, your body going rigid as you snapped your eyes shut. 

His other hand found its way to your uninjured thigh, giving it a firm squeeze--a clear attempt to divert your attention. It worked for a second. "I'm sorry, just keep this pressed here, okay?"

He motioned toward the cloth, and you complied, too drained to consider otherwise. Your brows knitted, and you bit into your lip until you tasted something metallicy, your mind desperately racing trying to think of anything other than the blood flowing freely from your thigh.

"Where are you going?" You knew how panicked you sounded as he turned away, stepping towards a cabinet. 

He rummaged briefly before holding up a first aid kit. Catching the brief alarm in your face, he quickly returned to your side, his hand finding the crook of your neck as you instinctively clutched at his shirt once again.

"If you dare say I told you so, I swear, Hotch, fists will fly," you ground out through clenched teeth.

He laughed, and now that did distract you, your eyes zeroing in on his perfect teeth. It was a rare display, and it only served to aggravate you further. Of course he had perfect teeth.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could feel you thinking it," you said, your voice rough as you willed the moisture in your eyes not to fall. "Maybe I should be a profiler."

"Definitely."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." You were lying. Everything suited him. He stepped back, and you reluctantly peered at the wound, only to find a neatly sutured leg. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"In this job, you learn to be handy with more than just a gun.”

You’d love to know what else he’s handy with.

He pulled your leg up to rest on his as he took a seat on the opposite stool.

Your body was buzzing, from the closeness, from his hands on you, and also from the pain, but you were trying to ignore that. He grabs a new bandage from the counter, hands trailing up your thigh so slowly you thought you might pass out. He was so gentle. There was no other word for it.

"How's it feel?"

You paused. Eyes fully locked on his precise movements as he wrapped you up. You were closer than you realized, practically sharing the same breath.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and he finished up his task, his hand lightly patting your thigh to show he was done. You didn't move your leg from his lap, and he didn't move his hand.

"I couldn't sleep for three days."

"What?" Your brows were furrowed, your focus sharpening on his face as the words left his lips.

"When I found out you had been shot." He cleared his throat, his thumb making gentle rotations on your calf. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing red for days. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to you. I almost did."

You weren't sure how to process this information, or why he was telling you. "You and me both."

"I'm serious." And you could tell he was, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand firmly encircled around your leg. You felt a lump in your throat form as heat rose from your neck to your ears. "Do you know what that was like? I felt like my heart stopped."

"Why?"

"Why?" It was more a scoff than a word. He blew out a breath, his fingers pinching into the space between his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

Your heart was beating a lot faster. You wanted to say something, anything but your throat was dry and every time you opened your mouth you found it snapping shut.

Hotch's expression softened ever so slightly, his voice low and bouncing off the walls as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath stalled, as if every ounce of oxygen had been vacuumed from your lungs. The air felt heavy, almost tangible.

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat.

"That's not funny," you said. It wasn't. You weren't in the mood for jokes, and your brain couldn't comprehend he might be telling the truth. "You...you don't even notice me."

He shook his head. "I notice everything about you." His thumb stilled on your calf. "I'm your boss," he said, as if that explained everything. "There are rules, protocols. I couldn't...I still shouldn't..."

The confession stripped the room of its warmth, leaving a raw aching silence in its wake. You searched his face.

"When you got shot," he continued, "I realized that if I lost you, I'd regret not telling you how I feel for the rest of my life."

"Hotch, I..."

He leaned closer, causing your words to catch in your throat. His hand moved from your leg to your face. You were speechless, the world narrowing down to the man in front of you, to his eyes, the warmth of his hands.

"Say something."

"Are you kidding me?" Your heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from your chest. "I've been in love with you since I started. How could you not see that?"

He looked taken aback, as if your words were the last thing he expected. "Well—,"

But you didn't let him finish. "Some profiler you are."

You were practically climbing into his lap, hands framing his face, pulling your lips to his.

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "Easy," he murmured, "don't make me fix that bandage again."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. "Shut up, Hotch."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[melonteee]

You have a lot of thoughts about Sanji and how the Germa modification may come back to bite him later in terms of his own free will (& I agree that it will eventually come up)—but do you have any thoughts about Luffy having a mythical Zoan and whether Nika might be bleeding over into him? Zoan fruits supposedly have a will of their own especially after awakening, and I’m guessing mythical humanoid ones might take that a step further.

I remember being super unsettled by Gear 5 up until Luffy officially reiterated that he’s Luffy, going to be the pirate king, etc. There was something really eerie about it to me, like I was legit concerned that we were looking at something that wasn’t Luffy anymore.

What does it mean for Luffy, who ultimately is a personification of freedom and free will to be potentially a reincarnation of Joyboy/some sort of prophesied person with a destiny? Does it run kind of counter to his whole character? Is it fine so far because Luffy and Nika/Joyboy are so similar, and could that change?

Interested if you have any thoughts about it! Love your character analysis videos.

I've said this on twitter ages ago BUT somehow I don't think joyboy is gonna be a reincarnation or anything. I feel it's just the gum gum fruit itself has a will that it couldn't carry out 800 years ago with its previous user, and it's now found Luffy who can help carry out its will with Luffy's own. Ie, Luffy has not been forced on a path as the chosen one, he's simply so strong of mind and soul that the fruit has found someone to help it reach its peak form and power.

People like Luffy are a rarity, in terms of their pure determination and guts. Luffy makes his own path, and now he's yanked into the soul of his devil fruit, and has forced it to awaken for his own gain. But, since one piece is about continuing wills, it also makes perfect sense that either joyboy or the fruit itself has a will that Luffy is picking up. This is by no means fate, and is instead Luffy tearing the world apart due to who he is.

I also do think there's a possibility of devil fruits overtaking someone's mind and soul, but I don't know! Haven't seen that happen yet I think, so I'm keen to find out!

Also thank youuuu! 🫶

[semi-imaginary-place]

Which characters have tragic pasts that aren’t recognized enough?

I think people don't notice because Petra is very active about her situation. She's a political hostage in a foreign land that has turned her country into a vassal state from the war that killed her dad. But she's made the most of it. Petra taught herself a new language, she trains constantly, she's made herself be involved with the politics of Fodlan, and she's always seeking to better herself and hone her skills so that she's not just a prisoner but someone useful to Brigid. Petra's the opposite of passive, she refuses to just let things happen to her, and in a lot of ways she doesn't have a choice either she is an active participant in her life or she will just be shuffled around as a political pawn and hostage against the country she loves. We don't know the specifics of the international agreement about Petra but I can easily imagine it being something like "give us a hostage as a guarantee you won't attack us or we'll continue the war we won, raze you to the ground, kill all of you, and take your land".

Claude's backstory isn't tragic and uh... at least half the cast if not more has had it worse than him but I do want to talk about it since I never see people talk about the struggles Claude has had. I think a large part of it is that like Petra, Claude doesn't show the struggles he's been through nor does he really talk about himself or his past. They both show a strong front and face forward in their lives.

Claude's spent his entire life being alienated, in Almyra for being too foreign and not Almyran enough and then in Fodlan for being too foreign and not Fodlan enough. He's faced multiple childhood assassination attempts just because of his parentage and at least some of these have come from family members. Claude is a rarity among the cast in having not only both parents but having 2 parents that love him. However his parents are of the tough love approach, that what doesn't kill will make him stronger so they offer him little support, protection, or help in a world that is hostile to him at every turn. And so Claude grew up with everyone against him, with his every action used as justification that he's weaker and lesser than a full Almyran. And this has destroyed his ability to trust or be open with people. Claude is very insecure in his interactions with other people because he's used to every slip of information given being used against him. You see this in his supports with Marianne where he sees any information about himself as possible leverage against him so it has to be exchanged like a commodity so that they both have equal leverage against the other. And yet he does genuinely want to help people and cares about those around him as clumsy as his attempts are at making friends. Claude's backstory is not nearly on the level of say Edelgard's or Lysithea's but it's a shame no one is talking about it at all.

Dimitri stans screaming and crying about poor Dimitri and yeah he's had it rough (a lot of 3H characters have traumatizing backstories) but Dedue is right there, what about his pain! The hypocrisy! The Tragedy of Duscar led to the massacre of his family and not only that but he's now a genocide survivor since Faerghus decided to wipe out Duscar, take over their land, rename and settle on it. Not to mention they were wrongfully scapegoated for it. Dedue has had everything taken from him so he doubles down on this life debt to Dimitri because it's the one thing he has left. It's a trauma response coping mechanism that he's rather override his will, opinions, and personhood for Dimitri's sake. And the of course Faerghus hates him and reminds him of that every day.

At this point I'm wondering if its a racism problem that it's Petra, Dedue, and Claude whose struggles are most often overlooked.

[duhragonball]

It's my birthday today, and the local grocery store was thoughtful enough to stock the Dragon Ball Z Reese's Puffs, so I'm gonna try it out. Join me, won't you?

I still can't believe this is real. I mean, Reese's Puffa is kind of surreal enough as it is. It sounds like some satirical brand meant to poke fun at sugary kids' cereals. The box says "Made with REAL REESE'S Peanut Butter", the same way a fruit-flavored beverage will claim to contain genuine fruit.

The bowl on the box art is a Reese's cup, so it basically depicts candy being served in more candy. I'm old enough to remember when they would photograph cereal as "part of a complete breakfast", and there'd be grapefruits and toast and maybe a hard boiled egg. Basically they were admitting that the cereal was so unhealthy that you needed to eat three or four other breakfasts to make up for it. I just liked the photos because they were so picturesque. Ah, to have unlimited free time to prepare a leisurely 4-course breakfast while reading the paper. I just assumed everyone else was having toast with their cereal except my family, but yeah, it never really made any sense.

I haven't even gotten to Goku yet, but first I want to talk about his spoon. I don't think we see him holding a spoon very often. He's usually a chopsticks kind of guy, or he'll just use his bare hands or even dunk his head into the bowl. It kind of looks like a ladle when he holds it like that, which implies he cooked this bowl of candy soup all by himself, and he's showing it off like a proud chef. This spoon kicks ass, is what I'm trying to say.

But the real reason I bought this is because of that orange hillbilly who needs no introduction. I wasn't even looking for Reese's Puffs. It was the furthest thing from my mind. No, I was stocking up on the old-man cereal I require to survive, when I just saw him staring at me, with his friendly-yet-confident smile. Goku's not pressuring you to buy the cereal. He's sure you'll enjoy it, but it's okay if you want to take a pass. He'll just enjoy all this peanut butter chocolate goodness all by himself. Goku is truly the ideal spokesman. How can you say no to this lovable hunk?

I'm kind of out of touch when it comes to cereal marketing, but I'm pretty sure this sort of cross-promotion is a rarity. Like, they once put WWE wrestlers on Wheaties or something, but usually if the cereal companies want a cartoon on the box they'll just make their own character. Or if the cartoon people want to put their guy in the cereal aisle, they'll just commission a whole new cereal just for that brand. C-3PO had his own cereal for a while. It was pretty good!

What I'm saying is that it's kind of unusual to see a popular character like this on a cereal box. The only exception I can come up with is Fred Flintstone on Fruity and Cocoa Pebbles, but I always assumed that those were specifically "Flintstones Cereal".

Other than that, yeah, I can't think of any other examples of cartoon characters appearing on unaffiliated cereal boxes like this. Well, I drew my DBZ OC on a box of All-Bran today, but I don't think that counts.

"MY FIBER IS MAXIMUM, KAKAROT!"

I wondered what was up with the picture of Piccolo on the back of the box, and it turns out that he's one of seven different characters you can find on the back of the box. Collect them all! Aw man, that Cell one looks fucking sick! I don't know how they distributed these. Maybe they roll them out in waves and Piccolo's came first. Or maybe it's random and I might have found a Cell if I'd checked more boxes at the store. Well, Piccolo's pretty good. I guess.

All right, I just poured myself a bowl and Goku's cereal is gonna have to set course for Planet Oat. The dairy industry may not applaud my shopping choices, but I like oat milk because it doesn't spoil as quickly as cow milk, and it's got a nice oat-y flavor that compliments the cardboard taste of All-Bran.

I did not put Dawn liquid soap in my cereal. This time.

So what's the verdict here? Well, the first few bites were pretty tasty, and then I realized I was getting kind of sick of this as I made my way to the bottom of the bowl. The peanut butter flavor overwhelms everything. It has a very strong odor, so if you like Reese's peanut butter cups you can just sit this out in your room and savor the aroma. I barely registered any chocolate flavor at all. I mean, I believe they put it there, but the peanut butter is the whole story to this.

It's basically Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs from Calvin and Hobbes, only this is a special Peanut Butter variant they made. I never really appreciated the jokes about sugary cereals before. I grew up on Frosted Flakes and the like, but there were a certain class of cereals that my mom would just refuse to buy. My grandparents would have them, but I never really understood the difference between Frosted Flakes and Honey Smacks. As I got older, I ate less cereal in general, but that was mostly because I fell out of the habit of eating breakfast altogether.

But now I'm 47, and the only cereal I eat these days is bran topped with diced peaches and a couple of packets of artificial sweetener, so Reese's Puffs is way, way too sugary for my palate. It's not bad, but a little goes a long way for me.

When I was a kid, old people were always griping about all the stuff they couldn't eat anymore. I remember Isaac Asimov writing mournfully about how he couldn't have an Oreo cookie, which bummed me out because that was my favorite cookie back then, and it seemed that the fate of all humanity was to be denied the simple pleasure of enjoying them.

Now, I realize that a lot of the stuff that you liked as a kid just doesn't age up with you. Your tastes change, and you gain appreciations for new things that you wouldn't have appreciated before. That's not a bad thing. It's life. Things change, and you change along with them.

Well, you and I do, anyway. Not Goku, whose Saiyan biology keeps him looking exactly the same for sixty years so he can eat all the sweetened corn puffs he wants. But I don't envy him, is what I'm trying to say. I'm watching a wrestling show on PPV tonight, my mom took me to Cracker Barrel for lunch today, and I drew on a cereal box. I can't complain.

[tranquil-ivy]

Hatred | '24 Alphabet Challenge

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Prom night is supposed to be the greatest night of your teenage life... Right?

Words: 1.9k

Content Warning: Stancy mention, Jancy mention, past feelings mention, childhood friends, and unrequited love (Steve)

Prom night, supposedly one of the greatest nights of teenagers' lives. That's a sentiment Steve definitely wouldn't agree with, hanging out outside his own senior prom. He didn't even know why he bothered coming, knowing full well he'd see them together. Hand in hand, arm in arm, dancing to every cheesy slow song the DJ put on. As much as Steve tried to be supportive or ignore it...

He just wasn't over his ex-girlfriend yet.

But that didn't stop him from trying to be the bigger man in the situation. That's what Steve grew into being, the bigger person. No more being a total asshole for the sake of his own feelings. That's something Junior year Steve would do.

"Well, don't you just look so lively tonight." His trance breaks as he's approached by you, coming from the double doors of the Gym hallway not too far away.

"I'm not in the mood tonight."

Steve sounded both fed up and disgusted with your antics already. Even if this was just the first thing you said anything to him all day.

You lean against the cold brick gym wall. Feeling the rough bumps of the hard surface on your back and through your dress.

"Rough night, champ?" Steve sighs, rubbing his eyes, raw from a few minutes of being emotional.

"You don't know the half of it." Glancing over, he sees you for the first time. Admiring the floor length red dress, you always looked good in red. You looked good in everything, at least in his mind.

"Look at you, all dressed up and presentable for once." You smirk at his joke, making him chuckle and smile.

"I always look presentable thank you prick." Smirking to yourself before looking back at him.

"You look good in a tuxedo... Y'know, for you."

"Thanks for the backhanded compliment. Anything good from you is a rarity." You laugh, making him smile even wider. His eyes shift around the parking lot, watching cars pull in, and other kids come to join the party going on inside.

"What're you even doing out here by yourself? I thought you'd be in there with like 9 different girls trying to dance with you at once." He scoffs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You know, too many options beating down my door. Couldn't disappoint them all."

"Came stag too, huh?" He just nods in response, not saying anything as you both look up into the inky night sky. The only sound to fill the cold April night air was the crickets chirping and distant chatting of other students.

"Are you holding up okay? I saw them dancing inside and... I know the breakup was hard for you, so I just thought I'd check up on you..."

Steve let out a rough sigh, feeling like a complete idiot pining for his ex-girlfriend still. Being broken up for almost 5 months now. He couldn't let her go in his head, they were each other's first loves. At least she was to him.

All of that came crashing to a halt after everything back in November.

"If I'm being honest, no I'm not holding up okay."

"I know I'm not a therapist or anything..." You shrug, glancing back at him as you nervously chew on your thumbnail.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I've been talking to Dustin for months about it and no matter how much I try I can't get past it. Like Nancy's cast some kind of spell to stick with me or something." He sighs, looking at the asphalt as he swallows harshly.

"Now we can hardly make eye contact for more than 3 seconds before she turns away... God, she must hate me."

"Steve, she doesn't hate you. She's probably just feeling awkward about everything and trying to respect her new relationship by not hanging around her ex-boyfriend. They're just trying to find their footing as a couple." You reassure him, leaning over to give him a squeeze on his shoulder. Thinking about what he said, you shake your head, grinning at the thought of Dustin.

"And really Steve? Dustin. He's like 14 and barely knows how to handle having a crush yet. He's never even had a girlfriend yet. I know he's smart for his age, but c'mon."

"I know! He's just a great listener. He knows a lot for his age, it's actually kinda scary." You roll your eyes looking at the ground, starting to laugh to yourself.

"What?" His full attention is on you now, a small smile pulling at his lips as he watches you start to laugh harder.

"Nothing I just..." You cover your mouth, snickering again.

"I just never pictured myself giving you of all people a pep talk... You're you for crying out loud. Steven "The Hair" Harrington." You grin, bumping his arm with your elbow.

"King Steve... You're literally the most popular guy in the entire school, and I'm... Me." He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's the fun thing. We're so different, so we can see our point of view while still seeing each other's... Plus, it's nice not having someone around trying to kiss my ass constantly."

"Yeah, I'll just kick your ass instead." You smirk, pressing off the wall, your heels click as you step in front of him.

"Look, I know it hurts now, but it'll pass eventually... And if I can be honest with you... You could do so much better than Nancy frickin' Wheeler."

Steve could feel his eyebrows shooting up in amusement as you got in front of him. For some odd reason, just standing there in your presence felt somewhat calming suddenly.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you have in mind then?"

"I don't know," you think for a second and shrug, "Farrah Fawcett? I think she'd think you were cute. Celebrity or not?"

"Farrah Fawcett? You think Farrah Fawcett, one of the most famous women alive, would want me?"

"Yeah! You're a hot guy, why wouldn't she?!" It's his turn to laugh now, shaking his head as he bites his lip.

"Where the hell would I even meet her?"

"I don't know! I thought we were talking hypothetically." Steve nodded, his face turning serious again.

"It's just... It's hard looking past Nancy, y'know. She was the first girl I ever loved."

"I'm aware, Steve. It's just not always the best thing to dwell on. I'm talking from experience." You bite the inside of your cheek and sigh. Nervous to be this honest, but if it helps get the point across, then so be it.

"Can I be honest with you about something?"

Steve looks at you, seeing how nervous you look to talk. His lips part slightly as he nods.

"Of course."

"I used to have a massive crush on Jonathan ages ago and when he started showing an interest in Nancy it killed me... But he's my friend, so I encouraged him. It killed me but I got over it."

You turn your head, looking up at the sky again, taking in the shining stars above the two of you. Feeling embarrassed about laying everything out there for someone you've barely gotten to know again.

"Took a while but time heals most wounds. So, just know I'm here for you because I know what it feels like... Kind of."

Steve felt your pain as you talked about how you couldn't be with Jonathan, and how that's basically how he felt about Nancy in all honesty.

Silence fell over the two of you as you both looked out to the sky, admiring the stars again. Steve looks over at you, feeling somewhat peaceful. Yet still wanting to ask so many questions.

"How'd you do it? Stay strong like that. I can barely be in a room with her right now."

"I talked to my family. That helped a lot... But I know you aren't the closest to your parents, so that's why I asked if you wanted to talk about it with me." You smile softly, lips turning up as you half shrugged at his question.

"I know we weren't always on the best of terms, but you're my friend and... I care about you."

"We're friends again?" His eyes seemed to light up almost, just like he was a little kid again. Over the past year he's felt like you two were bonding. But never wanted to ask out of fear.

Tension fills the air between you two. It's been this way since you two started becoming friends again. Going through hell together alongside the couple, Steve was trying to avoid like the plague.

"Well you know, when you nearly die fighting inner dimensional monsters together you tend to start caring about their well-being again... So, in a way, I guess we have to thank them for something at least."

Steve smirks before shaking his head.

"Part of me likes to think we'd be friends again someday."

"Who knows." You add, silence falling between you again. It's not long before Steve shifts, pushing himself off the wall and looking at you.

"So let’s say, hypothetically, that I was stuck at this stupid prom without a date and I had no one else to ask but you...”

"Mmm. Mmhm, hypothetically." You nod along, fighting back the urge to smirk.

"Go on."

Steve looked away for a second, collecting his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, turning back to you.

"And, hypothetically, I might need to spend our senior prom dancing, like my life depends on it, because it's possibly the last fun night before the rest of our lives."

"I'm starting to think you don't know what the word hypothetically means."

"Shush," he cuts you off, making you giggle before he continues, "now, hypothetically, would you be interested in dancing with me?"

You nod, looking like you were really thinking about it. As if you didn't know your answer already.

"Well, hypothetically," you play along, making sure to hold eye contact, "I might be inclined to say yes... If it wasn't a hypothetical, of course."

You rub your hand over your mouth, smirking behind it. He holds eye contact, faking a scoff as he stares.

"You're gonna make me ask?" You nod, tongue going to his cheek as he also nods.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"I wouldn't be saying that to a girl you're about to ask to prom Steve." He chuckles, nodding. You got him there.

His expression shifts to a goofy grin as he sighs with a slight relief.

"You think you can survive the night without making fun of me?" He smirks, holding his hand out for you to grab, you smile back at him taking it gently. Giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"I don't know about the whole night, but I can sure try my best." Rolling his eyes, he pulls you into his side, lacing his arm around your waist.

You look up at him, your gaze meeting again. Taking in his deep brown eyes and soft smile brings... Old feelings from years ago bubble back up.

Your mouth opens to say something, anything at all. But the words won't come out as your heartbeat picks up speed.

That old crush you had on your old friend never really went away over all these years.

Or at least that's what you think at the moment.

[onebadpunspoilsabunch]

Rewriting the last 2 seasons of mlp:fim, cause I'm bored and I need to get my ideas out.

I warn you: This is a collection of cluttered ideas, so don't expect it to be perfect o anything XD

Story of season 8 rewrite:

Instead of there being a School of Friendship, have the Student 6 be assigned to study under one of the Mane 6. 

Twilight Sparkle does what she did in the show and asks each of the different leaders to send a student to study, learn, and live with them. The student paired with each Mane Six member is:

Strength (Rockhoof) – Honesty (Applejack) – Yona (?)

Healing (Mage Meadowbrook) – Kindness (Fluttershy) – Sandbar (?)

Hope (Somnambula) – Laughter (Pinkie Pie) – Silverstream (Enthusiasm)

Beauty (Mistmane) – Generosity (Rarity) – Ocellus (Change)

Bravery (Flash Magnus) – Loyalty (Rainbow Dash) – Smolder (?)

Sorcery (Star Swirl the Bearded) – Magic (Twilight Sparkle) – Gallus (?)

I believe that this makes more sense than a school.

Give the two villains of the season (Cozy Glow and Chancellor Neighsay) actual reasons/backstories for the way they act and what they do.

Examples:

Give Cozy Glow a more believable motivation. In the original finale, Cozy's motivation for stealing the magic of Equestria is... I forgot honesty, lol.

A more believable motivation could be that Cozy feels neglected and overlooked by the other ponies, specifically unicorns, and she wants to screw with everyone by creating a level playing field (disregarding how it'll fuck up everyone in Equestria).

For the Chancellor, let's say that he recalls all of the times throughout the series where ponykind had been attacked or come into conflict with other creatures, etc. That's a more believable motivation.

Season 8 finale: 

I actually don't know how to write this in a way for it to make more sense, I just know that these specific plot points need to happen in the episode:

The Mane Six are put out of commission in order for the Student Six to be revealed to have a connection to the Elements of Harmony 

Cozy is revealed to have a connection to Tirek in some way. And we actually learn her backstory.

The Mane Six talk to Tirek and learn more about his past, and he mentions Scorpan of course

Chancellor Neighsay gets a realistic redemption, but after learning his backstory of course

Cozy Glow is sent away, not to Tartarus, but to stay with Shining Armor and Princess Cadence in the Crystal Empire to learn how to be good and get whatever the f*ck help she needs XD 

At the end of the story the Mane Six are praising their individual students and are happy that they have the same connection to the Elements and each other that they do. 

Story of season 9:

In order to understand what happens next, I highly recommend that you watch these videos by DrWolf001 on YouTube. These videos were the ones that inspired all of this:

ok, here we go!

Premiere:

Everything that happened in the season 9 premiere happens, the only difference being that Grogar is the REAL Grogar, not Discord in disguise.

Oh, and… a very special guest shows up at the school. 

Everyone in the room, the Mane Six, Spike, the Pillars, Celestia and Luna, the Student Six, everyone else is in utter shock at who it is: 

Scorpan, Tirek's younger brother, carrying a staff made from the Tree of Harmony! 

Following episodes:

Scorpan has made his reappearance to the characters. The Pillars and the Royal Sisters are ecstatic to see their old friend, especially Starswirl. Scorpan asks Celestia if the dragon egg he gave her hatched yet, and everyone is shocked. Scorpan meets Spike, and explains himself: 

When Starswirl and Scorpan first became friends, Scorpan was carrying Spike's egg with him. He explains that he found it by itself, and wanted to find it a home. He asked Starswirl to take care of it, but he refused, since he had more important things to do. Starswirl instead gave it to Celestia and Luna to use as a test, similar to Twilight Sparkle's test in the School for Gifted Unicorns. After the Pillars sacrificed themselves to stop the Pony of Shadows, Scorpan went back to his homeland. His brother was in Tartarus, and his friends were gone, so he had no reason to stay. 

Many years have passed, and Celestia still couldn't open the egg. She didn't know why, since she was a powerful alicorn. So when she built her school, she created the egg as the final test. (Even if a Unicorn couldn't open the egg, they wouldn't be judged on that alone.)

Scorpan explains what inspired him to come back to Equestria: His magical staff, which was made out of a branch from the Tree of Harmony, alerted him to the fact that more creatures were now connected to the Tree, so he came there to see. Scorpan meets them all, but is confused about something: There are only six elements for the Mane Six and the Student Six. 

Scorpan demands to see the Tree of Harmony, and storms off with the others following him.

—

Scorpan sees that the Tree is destroyed, but he is still trying to find something. The others are confused, but Scorpan says that it's "nothing". They leave, except for Spike.

Spike asks Scorpan where he found his egg, and Scorpan says he "doesn't remember". Spike is disappointed of course, but eventually says that he's accepted it. Scorpan starts asking Spike about his life with the ponies and all that jazz, and after hearing Spike talk, he realizes that Spike is exactly like him: 

He's the only non-pony member of his group of friends, he has a closer relationship with the main element (Twilight Sparkle) similar to how Scorpan had a closer relationship with the main element in his day (Starswirl), and even though he feels out of place sometimes, he's accepted his life and his duties to help his friends. Scorpan tells Spike that he believes he's the 7th Element. 

Tolerance (Scorpan) – Acceptance (Spike) – (?) (?)

Who is under Spike? That remains to be seen... meaning idk

Spike tells him that it's impossible, as when the ponies found the Elements, they only found 6. Scorpan tells him that only those that are connected to the Elements can find them. Scorpan and Spike search the Castle of the Two Sisters, but can't find the missing element anywhere. Scorpan asks Spike to try to remember if he's ever taken it or even seen it, and Spike remembers:

In the episode Secret of My Excess, when Spike was going through his greed-induced puberty, he was taking random things and hoarding them in the library. One was an orb that he found in the Castle of the Two Sisters. 

But after Spike had turned back to normal, he had returned all of the items he took. Spike didn't know what the orb was, so he just kept it in the basement. 

And then… the library was destroyed by Tirek. So the entrance to the basement was lost underground. So Scorpan and Spike start digging, or they find a way to teleport down there, idk

They find the orb in the basement, and Spike tries to get it to transform into a jewel. Scorpan says that it can only transform in the presence of the other Elements. 

That's all I've come up with. Feel free to add, suggest, or rewrite something, please 😅