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sinsandsweetness · 10 months

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Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh smut #shane walsh fanfiction #smut #rickyl smut #rickyl x reader #dbf!rick #dbf!daryl #dbf!shane #dads best friend trope #pick your poison

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agendabymooner · 6 months

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breaking curses, not hearts ! charles l. x ofc (atkinson!actress!ofc)

summary: charles leclerc and his girlfriend frankie bardot atkinson, as a pair, were known for their lack of successes in their respective careers as a formula one driver and an actress. perhaps this was the year when their defeats would come to a close? OR, the year when losing became a series of first time victories for the couple.

content warning: use of explicit language, rowan atkinson’s daughter!ofc (also briefly mentions brigitte bardot and fictional bardot character), ofc is called a nepo baby once, celebrity crush to lover trope, based off a request in my inbox

faceclaim: emma stone (ofc’s filmography is based on the actress)

note: this is the last one for now! the request has been sitting on my inbox for a couple days now so i’m sorry anon! i tried to make it as close to as you requested so i hope you enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

i. charles = frankie’s biggest fan

ii. things they done did: ate — the day frankie broke the curse

FRANKIE BARDOT ATKINSON WINS THE ‘BEST ACTRESS’ AWARD by the academy

tagged frandebardot

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, lewishamilton

user1 oscar winning gf 🤧

user2 making mark in hollywood and f1– live laugh love frankie bardot atkinson ❤️

user3 OKAY BUT HER CALLING HIM CHARLIE DURING HER SPEECH?!

user4 mom and dad fr

lewishamilton well deserved! congratulations frankie! 🙏

arthur_leclerc can’t wait to brag to my friends about having an oscar winning in-law 😇😇

frandebardot merci mon amour! ❤️ liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc only for the best mon ange

iii. monza aka the day charles broke the curse

tagged charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainzjr, arthur_leclerc

comments have been limited

scuderiaferrari it’s the power of love that did it ❤️

charles_leclerc winning the championship for you, amour 😍 liked by frandebardot

frandebardot i believe in you ❤️

iv. lifting curses, loving the other and all of that shit

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auroracalisto · 1 year

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good enough

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™ a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO

Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.

You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.

He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.

The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.

"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"

"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.

He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.

You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.

Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.

"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.

The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.

You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.

"I want a divorce," he said.

It was so simple. Those four words.

And just like that, your world came crashing around you.

Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?

The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.

You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.

There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.

How long had he been thinking about this?

"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."

"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.

"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."

Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.

The words left him without a second thought.

"I don't love you."

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?

Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?

But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.

You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.

Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.

"Just… just tell me when."

"When what?"

"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."

He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.

"I don't know. It just… happened."

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.

But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.

This was happening.

Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—

He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.

But he loved you.

Loved. Past-tense.

He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?

You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.

"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."

Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.

"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."

You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.

Were you just a joke to him?

"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."

"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"

"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.

What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.

The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.

This wasn’t fair.

This couldn’t be real.

Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

This was for the best.

This would keep you safe.

As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.

This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.

If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.

His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.

Three years had passed.

Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.

But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.

How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?

They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.

You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.

But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?

You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.

You'd never have enough glue for something like that.

You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.

And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.

He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.

You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.

So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.

At least here, you felt like you could breathe.

Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.

When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.

You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.

Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.

He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.

After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.

So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.

The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.

It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.

You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.

"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’

Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."

"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.

You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.

It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.

Rooster had always been good at that.

Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.

And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.

And he was looking right at you.

"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"

You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.

You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.

This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't know.

The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.

The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.

The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.

It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?

You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.

You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.

You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.

But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.

You could never win.

You would never win.

No matter what, you were never good enough.

You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.

There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.

Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.

God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.

And he kept them.

Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.

Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?

Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.

It worked, for a while.

He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.

She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.

She wasn’t you. She would never be you.

And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.

Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.

He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.

The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.

The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.

The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.

In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.

"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"

"She broke it off."

Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.

"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.

"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?

This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"

"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.

"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.

"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.

He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.

"Rooster!"

He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"Just let it happen," she said.

"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"

"Just… just let it happen."

Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.

And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.

Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out? But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.

You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.

The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.

You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).

You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.

You were still so beautiful.

His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.

He was such an idiot.

You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.

"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.

You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.

His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.

You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.

"Y/n," he repeated.

As you walked, he followed.

Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.

Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.

You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night. It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.

Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.

With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.

But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.

The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.

You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes. "What's your fucking problem?!"

Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.

You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.

"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."

Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.

God, would this man ever make you stop crying?

"Y/n—"

"—just go away! I don't want you here!"

"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."

"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."

"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."

You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.

"It was a mistake!"

You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"

"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."

What?

You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.

Tears blurred your vision once more.

He never stopped loving you.

You let out a sob, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."

"Then… then… why?"

"I couldn't do it to you."

"What? Do what?"

"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.

"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"

Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.

"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”

Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.

"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."

"But Y/n—"

"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”

Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.

His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.

He deserved it.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.

"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."

"But how?"

"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.

"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."

He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.

This… was all his fault.

Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.

Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).

Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.

What a lie that was.

But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?

Regret became you.

You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.

Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?

Maverick would know.

Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.

Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.

Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.

Phoenix was calling you.

You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."

Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.

"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"

"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."

"Why?"

"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"

You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.

Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”

"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”

"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”

You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.

And then, your doorbell rang.

That was far less than an hour.

The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.

Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.

You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.

With much hesitation, you opened the door.

Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.

You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.

Everything you owned reminded you of him.

"Y/n?"

"Bradley."

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.

This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.

His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.

He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.

Again.

Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.

Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?

"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."

You stayed silent.

Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.

Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.

Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.

He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.

"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."

You stared at him, hands gripping the door.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I… I know I should have."

"So why didn't you?"

"I had already made up my mind…"

And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.

Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.

Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.

Were you stupid for what you were about to do?

Maybe.

But so was Bradley.

"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."

"Why you left me?"

He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."

You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.

"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.

You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.

Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.

He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.

"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.

He… was starting over.

You were starting over.

Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"

Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.

You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.

Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.

Nothing could change that.

Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.

Nothing could change how he felt for you.

And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.

Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.

Good enough or not.

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.

"Only if you'll have me."

"Of course, I will."

This was a start. A new start.

A good start.

You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.

You lived it.

You were still living it.

But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.

Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.

And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.

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chryblossomjjk · 1 year

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bts fic recommendations | 01.25.23

→ hi friends! this is a little segment i do every tuesday (reviewsday get it, aren’t i funny, pls tell me how funny i am) where i read and review two-three fics. as a content creator, i know how big of a role other creators play in your growth, therefore, i want to do my part in making sure everyone gets the recognition they deserve! so with that being said, please check out the amazing fics listed below. make sure to like, reblog, and leave feedback! ♡ #reviewsday #kikirecs

scent of eager suds - @rkivian (knj x reader | smut, angst, pwp, fluff)

summary: you missed each other, too fucking much. but your head had stayed down in futile hopes of remaining stubborn, forgetting that there is a wedding ring on that tricksy little finger of his for a reason.

so..... genuinely convinced you are the reincarnate of shakespeare babe bc like:

"He would spend a considerably scant amount of time on such a task, yet fulfil it so thoroughly that the constant aching between your legs seemed more equitable than you would like it to be."

LOOK WHAT YOU DO WITH WORDS!!! like everything is so precise. i can tell there's so much thought put into every single word of this piece and woah.. the writing is fucking stellar, seriously. like just the words you use throughout this displays how the reader feels about being vulnerable with joonie: cruel, vengeful, venomous. u put pwp but like you characterized the fuck out of this reader and it's so good...

also... this is thee kim namjoon. like as someone who is v much similar to the reader and self sabotages relationships, ppl who love you enough to recognize that trait and do their best to prove u wrong

AND YOU DID THAT ALL THROUGHOUT THE FLITHIEST NASTIEST SEXIEST SMUT EVER PLS HE'S SO HOT LIKE HE TRULY JUST WANTS TO MAKE HER FEEL GOOD INSIDE AND OUT AND IM GATEKEEPING HIM!!!! this was so so so beautiful and thank you for sharing with plebeians like me :') <3

the one where jin is drunk off his face and you get friend-zoned - @indgio (ksj x reader | fluff, crack)

saf everything you write just comforts my soul. it's missing jin hours around these parts and this is exactly want i needed. i don't know how to explain it but this gives me run episode vibes? like... this is legit kim seokjin. I COULD TOTALLY PICTURE HIM DOING SOME SHIT LIKE THIS LMAO WHAT A SWEET BABY!

also love this oc fr. like from the opening paragraph i could already tell she's the most adorable, most precious being, and you proved it throughout the rest :') <3 taking care of ur drunk partner trope will never not get me and you did it so splendidly ugh will definitely be coming back to this when im sad and 3am and missing my seokjin :'( thanks for this ily <3

"tell me more about this girlfriend of yours."

but jin looks at you with a frown, as he downs the water. "no. get your own."

^also for whatever reason this took me tf out lmao

the one where jungkook will always protect you, even from the fictional - @indgio (jjk x reader | fluff, humor)

bby istg your writing is so... refreshing? like i always think i need these super crazy, convoluted, heavy plots for my fics to be good, but your writing is proof that doesn't have to be the case. your writing is so effortless, yet so beautiful. like once again, genuine comfort content that i don't see too much of anymore. going through your masterlist has really inspired me to take a new avenue, because your fics are just so fucking addicting. i just love the slice of life vibes so much uGh okay enough nutting over u and onto the fic sehfbjsehbdhwb

pov ur saf in my brain BC THE AMOUNT OF TIMES IVE DAYDREAMED ABOUT THIS EXACT SCENARIO IS MENTAL ILLNESS (was just picturing binge watching AOT w him :'))

this jungkook is such a golden retriever ass boyfriend my heart can't take it. the banter ?? the protectiveness ?? THE BITING THE EAR ??? naur im in love it's settled. adding him to the list of fav jungkook portrayals on tumby. will be thinking about him when im bored in the back of my lecture tomorrow. thank you for daydream fuel <3

stfu yes it's wednesday get off my back >:'( i posted this early last week and was just trying to even the timing out that's all... im lying. anyways, love u lmao

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m00n-pr1sm · 7 months

Text

Amy Dunne Character Analysis

Disclaimer

This analysis will be of Amy’s character from both the book and the movie, although the 2014 movie adaption takes greater precedence with only some additional details and quotes included from the book as it does delve deeper into Amy’s psyche and add further characterization. Thus some traits may be accentuated further than they are in the movie, not being completely faithful to either story. It’s an analysis of Amy in her totality across mediums, of course being entirely my opinion. There are of course adaptational differences but I will not include the major ones from the books (ex. her relationship with Hillary Hand). This is an analysis focusing primarily on Amy’s neuroses she demonstrates and the childhood links to them, it doesn’t cover in-depth the events nor themes of Gone Girl.

Amy Elliott Dunne, the ever enigmatic protagonist of Gone Girl, one of the most iconic female villains in modern memory, and one of the paragons of the “good for her” trope in media, is frankly one of my favorite characters of all time. As such I have been dying to write a full analysis examining her neuroses and characterization. Beneath the cultural perception of just another “crazy psycho” for girls to claim “she did no wrong” or “she just like me fr!”, lies a fascinating character who is masterfully written and developed by Gillian Flynn. Not to mention perfectly portrayed by Rosamund Pike in the movie. Amy Dunne is a character with a deep, complex psychology that I will do my best to thoroughly explore in this analysis.

From Amy’s childhood we first see the emergence of a literal high ego ideal, Amazing Amy. Of course this is the children’s book series created by her parents with a fictionalized version of Amy being the eponymous protagonist. This was a version of herself that rectified her own personal failures. Amazing Amy became a prodigy at cello, when Amy quit at 10, Amazing Amy made varsity volleyball, Amy got cut freshman year. Even in the (at time) final book in the series, Amazing Amy got married, a task Amy had not yet done. The entire book series revolved around Amy always making the most virtuous, the most selfless, the most perfect decisions.

>”With me, regular, flawed, real Amy, jealous, as always, of the golden child.”

An interesting detail in the book that is omitted from the movie is Marybeth’s numerous miscarriages and stillbirths (which totaled 7). All of these girls were named Hope, until Amy was born. Amy expresses her jealousy towards them, as they were always seen as perfect without ever living; meanwhile Amy herself has to live life everyday knowing that she will never truly live up to the Hopes. That she has to try everyday to be the best she can be. Her very birth was mired in the expectation of a perfect child; given that she was practically a gift from the heavens to her parents.

This sets up Amy’s perfectionism, as the childhood experience of never living up to a projected ideal led her to want to be perfect (and as we’ll later see, the expectation that everyone else is too), to live life always through the gaze of another. Evidently this leads to a loss of one’s inner essence, one’s individuality and sense of self.

>“-I’d never really felt like a person, because I was always a product” (Book Quote)

Amy’s obsession with personas can be seen as emerging from this, as she adapts a personality depending on who she’s interacting with, as to always be the most appealing she can, she is Amazing Amy after all.

>”I’m not sure, exactly, how to be Dead Amy. I’m trying to figure out what that means for me, what I become for the next few months. Anyone, I suppose, except people I’ve already been: Amazing Amy. Preppy ’80s Girl. Ultimate-Frisbee Granola and Blushing Ingenue and Witty Hepburnian Sophisticate. Brainy Ironic Girl and Boho Babe (the latest version of Frisbee Granola). Cool Girl and Loved Wife and Unloved Wife and Vengeful Scorned Wife. Diary Amy.” (Book Quote)

This general attitude leads to people trying to impress her as she places herself as someone special and especially someone to keep around. Not to mention she’s incredibly pretty and alluring. Enticing both the characters and viewers of the film through her enchanting aura. However we’ll see this dramatically backfire in her relationship with Nick, just you wait!

However for now we can focus on the beginning of their relationship as well as what I believe to be Amy’s view on romance.

I believe that Amy has an impossibly high standard of love, one that stems from her perfectionism and general inability to let down her guise of being amazing. Not to mention how her parents were a perfect match, Amy even referring to them as soul-mates.

>”They have no harsh edges with each other, no spiny conflicts, they ride through life like conjoined jellyfish—expanding and contracting instinctively, filling each other’s spaces liquidly. Making it look easy, the soul-mate thing.” (Book Quote)

In her childhood it’s implied that she was into romance novels, specifically Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, which obviously contributes to the idealization of romance, of a literal scripted love.

>”You were an alienated teen and only Elizabeth Bennet understood you”

I think this little quote is incredibly indicative; it establishes a sense of alienation, of Amy never quite fitting in and blending with others.

>”So many lessons and opportunities and advantages, and they never taught me how to be happy. I remember always being baffled by other children. I would be at a birthday party and watch the other kids giggling and making faces, and I would try to do that too, but I wouldn’t understand why. I would sit there with the tight elastic thread of the birthday hat parting the pudge of my underchin, with the grainy frosting of the cake bluing my teeth, and I would try to figure out why it was fun.” (Book Quote)

Back to the topic of romance, through these stories it allowed her to imagine her perfect romance: if Amy could find that one person that truly understood her, beyond the illusion, that then would constitute a perfect union of love. She does deep down (whether consciously or not) want to be loved for who she is; not the idealized, palatable, literal marketed version of herself. Thus she holds trust as a premium, expecting that if she does the Herculean task of unspooling and revealing herself to another, that the other person would love her no matter what.

>”Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your spouse, your soul mate, and having him not like you?” (Book Quote)

However all of this culminates in an impossibly high standard of a lover, of a practically divine mythical love; where one loves totally and absolutely. Of course where this neurosis is most demonstrated is in Nick and Amy’s relationship.

Amy comments that after meeting Nick she finally felt like a person as he brought out a side of herself that hadn’t been seen, in her own words “a lightness and an ease”, something that Amy enjoyed. In her eyes they had the perfect relationship in the beginning, Nick was her compliment with the witty banter, with their inside jokes, and charm.

However this doesn’t just vanquish her childhood neuroses, through her desire to be seen as perfect, she modifies herself to be a “cool girl” for Nick, complying endlessly to standards to maintain this perception.

>” When I met Nick Dunne, I knew he wanted a cool girl and for him, I’ll admit, I was willing to try.”

Amy essentially became Nick’s image of a perfect girl, witty, fun, and most of all easy-going and forgiving.

Yet one cannot live forever in images and ideas; and as such, the real, true Amy emerged. The Amy that cares too much, that’s hard to get along with, that is a controlling perfectionist. She also tests Nick through the treasure hunts, weaving in little details about their relationship as to challenge Nick and hope that he remembers the things they do together as deeply as she does. Combined with the 2008 recession and declining health of Nick’s mother (the consequences of which will be explored later). As well as Nick’s growing dissatisfaction in the relationship (evidenced by his worsening performances in the treasure hunts, the cheating, using her for sex and ignoring her otherwise, etc). The illusion both Nick and Amy were living in crumbled; they couldn’t possibly sustain their relationship as they were both striving to fulfill reciprocating images for the other.

One of the biggest parts of her character is Amy’s elitism and entitlement, in which she thinks of herself as someone superior, someone that deserves to be loved absolutely for who she is, although only to people she considers worthy.

>”She’s easy to like. I’ve never understood why that’s considered a compliment—that just anyone could like you.” (Book Quote)

Once again this stems from her childhood, in a seemingly contradictory way, she also sees herself as special for being the one that survived from her mother’s attempts, as well as the fact that her birth was so tumultuous that she would be an only child. From this also stems her entitlement for love.

Amy actively looks down upon women she considers “average”, whom she sees as coming from mediocrity and continuously perpetuating that in their lives. She scoffs at them with her wealthy parents and NYC background until her marriage with Nick crumbles. Only then does she realize that she’s become the very woman she would previously disdain. A woman with a failing marriage, the loss of her previous wealth following the recession, and moving to a failed development in Missouri (What the hell’s in Missouri?) for Nick’s mother.

I truly believe this, combined with Nick’s infidelity, and most importantly the loss of her idyllic love culminated in the iconic Gone Girl plan.

>”Nick took and took from me until I no longer existed, that’s murder. Let the punishment fit the crime”.

Nick took Amy’s identity, her sense of self that she so generously revealed to him and rejected her. Implying that she would only be loved if played the role of the “cool girl”; stripping her of who she really was, losing herself in yet another persona. Although Amy admits she doesn’t really have a personality and lives through personas, she still has a semblance of self that she holds dear.

>”-made me realize that there was a Real Amy in there, and she was so much better, more interesting and complicated and challenging, than Cool Amy”. (Book Quote)

Worse yet, Nick had cheated on her with a “newer, younger, bouncer Cool Girl”, leaving Amy in the dust, surely damaging her pride.

But Amy truly fell in love with her idealized version of Nick, believing that she was responsible for shaping that version of Nick. That she deserved that man in his entirety, of course what gets Amy to come back to Nick is the Sharon Scheiber interview, in which he promises to make up with Amy in just the way that makes her think that Nick is the one person who gets her. He makes the little references to their inside jokes (2 fingers on the chin when they’re not bullshitting the other) and a reference to the end of the treasure hunt (always a contentious issue in their relationship). She’s reminded of who he was, that he was once perfect for her, who else could know how to appeal to her heart in just the right way? With the same passion and conviction she reverses the judgment on Nick, clawing her way back to him. She does so in an especially brutal manner, slashing Desi’s throat with a boxcutter right after he climaxes. Putting aside my enormous personal bias against Desi, he was technically an innocent man, taking a great risk in sheltering Amy. However it’s clear that Amy sees him as merely an asset and something to be disposed of once he serves his value, as another prop in her ever evolving masterplan; she did string him along for years through their letter correspondences. He was just another casualty in Amy’s search for idyllic love. She comes back dramatically, literally falling into Nick’s arms while still covered in Desi’s blood like a dress; fabricating an elaborate story about a love obsessed former boyfriend kidnapping and violating her. Despite the glaring holes in her whole story (If Amy’s marriage was as bad as she made it out to be, why did she go back to Nick so easily? How did she get access to a knife and kill him so seamlessly? Why didn’t Amy do anything when she discovered the stuff in Margo’s shed? etc), law enforcement, media, and the public all fully believe it, infatuated with the persona and narrative that Amy’s created for herself. In the end she traps Nick into the marriage and eventually, the family. The last shot of the film is a haunting recall to the beginning shot of the film, as Amy has both revealed and secured herself to be the master of the narrative, finally obtaining her perfect love, no matter what the cost may have been.

Conclusion

Through a constant demand in Amy’s childhood emerges a need for perfection, simultaneously bringing about a sense of superiority and entitlement. The use of personas and façades facilitate this, painting Amy as the most amazing cool girl for whomever she’s performing for, to feed her need to be seen as perfect and desirable. Yet there emerges a psychological detachment from others; as the need to perform inevitably leads to an internal hollowness. However underneath all these layers there also lies the true Amy who has the deep unconscious desire of wanting to be loved absolutely, to have a perfect union of love where she can reveal herself fully and be loved for who she is truly.

>disclaimer for tumblr lol, this is not me trying to claim Amy was innocent I am fully aware that she’s a terribly entitled and narcissistic person but she can still be complex and have relatable desires & be a person even if she’s massively fucked up!!

#amy dunne #gone girl #gillian flynn #I love Amy Dunne so much #my little meow meow #analysis #character analysis #final draft of the analysis me thinks!!#unless I rewrite the conclusion which is very likely :P #I want to write one comparing the book to the movie #and speak on those said adaptional differences #my gone girl brainrot is terminal #(no I never referenced her typology in this whatttttt…..)#this doesn’t have much commentary into real life stuff (I am e5 ni base I can’t speak on such matters)#this is just a -why Amy is fucked up and the way she is- analysis #Also I don’t care if Amy isn’t actually that much of a she just like me fr character. I’ve said it okay and I’m a teenage girl (checkmate)#also b4 anyone comes for me & is like Amy literally says she doesn't believe in unconditional love #so then y would she crave it/doesn't that disprove ur point #well 1. she's unreliable as FUCK 2. note my use of unconscious!!

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writer-darling · 9 months

Text

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 7: Style | Read Chapter 6: It’s Nice to Have a Friend!

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: M - Mature (THE TIME HAS COME) (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: IT’S ANOTHER LONG ONE I’M SORRY. Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, OF ALL KINDS, reaches an all-time high. Adult language. A LOT of feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he starts at an 83.5% but ends up at about a 90.79% in this chapter). Religious practices, mentions (fictional). Mentions of food and alcohol. Arguing. Fingering. Lots of praise. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 10.9k

Summary!: Three steps forward, two steps back, is still one step forward.

A/N: REWRITTEN AND REFORMATTED ON: 12/30/23; IF YOU READ ANY OF THE REWRITES READ THIS ONE

******

“And I should just tell you to leave, 'cause I

Know exactly where it leads, but I

Watch us go 'round and 'round each time…”

It was a great week...

Until it wasn't. You’ve spent almost the entirety of the past week and a half with Ezra. Playing cards, making more conversation, and sharing food and drinks whenever you can. The atmosphere between you two has lightened significantly, becoming overall cheerier. Even the crew’s seemed to notice.

On the last night of the work week, you and Ezra are chatting as usual, this time near the end of the night. A group of your crew is present, and the hours have been going by quickly in the best way. Ezra’s acting as his usual storyteller-self and you’re just as enticed as the rest of the crew. You know it's getting late, but the mood is so light, that you can’t bear to cut the evening short until now, knowing full well that tomorrow will be back to the typical grindstone. When you check your watch, it dawns on you that it’s very late. So, you wait until the story's over before you announce our departure.

"Well, I think it's time I get some sleep. We've got an early day tomorrow." You say, standing up from your seat and gathering your helmet and empty food tray from dinner.

Ezra looks up at you with a warm smile and gives a slight nod in agreement. The rest of the group bid you goodnight. Before you can turn to leave, Ezra calls out, stopping you in your tracks. "Wait," You turn on your heel.

"Yeah, what's up?" You ask him with a raise of your eyebrow. He pauses, looking around at everyone else for a moment before turning back to you.

"Do you mind if I walk you back to your quarters?" The group’s eyes go from you to Ezra, then back again as they await to hear your answer. You see the crew look from Ezra to you with interest, making you pause. It definitely wouldn't be a good idea to agree, considering how many rumors there have been about you two lately. But you can't deny that you enjoy Ezra's company.

"Sure, c'mon," You say before you turn again and begin to walk to your tent without checking if he's following or not.

Ezra is a bit surprised that you agreed, but he immediately gets out of his seat and begins to walk after you. As you head back to your chambers, there's a bit of silence between the two of you. Finally, he decides to speak up.

"So, uh, shall we talk about that little rumor the crew is spreadin’?" he asks.

"What rumor?" You ask with clearly mock obliviousness. Before you snort when he chuckles in response, but you shake your head gently. "I didn't peg you as being interested in idle gossip." You tease.

"I'd say that the 'idle gossip' has gone a bit beyond what I'd call 'idle' by now. It's been a weeks-long topic at this point, at least." Ezra pauses, and you notice him blush a bit. You roll your eyes playfully with a smile,

”Yeah, I guess it has...” but then you see he seems in a more somber mood so you backtrack from your playful tone. “Does it bother you at all?" You ask him, genuinely unsure if you want him to say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ He pauses for a moment before responding.

"I'm not gonna lie, the attention can be a bit... uncomfortable," he admits. "But what really bothers me is that it makes you seem like nothin’ more than the 'exotic' object in this... mess. You deserve more than that." His tone is one of fierce conviction as his troubled brow furrows. "You're smart, funny, driven, and so much more. Yet the crew seems to ignore that and focus on what you are, rather than who you are. You deserve respect." Your heart warms as he expresses that and you smile, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Ezra. And don’t worry about those jagoffs, ok? They’re just being… men.” You say with a soft chuckle. Ezra gives a slight grin, his face lighting up at your touch.

"You're too kind to me," he says, placing his own hand on top of yours, something that has become more and more frequent as of late. "I'm sure you know what I mean here... bein’ a woman in the workforce is hard. At least, I know my sister's told me a few horror stories." Ezra pauses, before letting his fingers gently interlace with yours. You smile and let him grab your hand.

“One of your sisters is a prospector too?” You ask him, surprised that he hasn’t mentioned it until now. “Which one?”

"Shira is," Ezra says with a nod, still holding onto your hand. He runs his thumb along your fingers lightly. "She's just as smart as any of those men on her crew... maybe even more so, considerin’ she has the drive to reach out and work with the minin’ corporations rather than out here on the Fringe." Ezra pauses, thinking for a moment. "She's quite the negotiator," he adds with a slight grin.

“Mm, just like her big brother, then?” His grin turns sheepish. You smile. Again, he seems so proud of his siblings. “What about your other sisters? The older ones. What do they do?” You ask.

Ezra's smile widens. "Well, Dalia’s a biologist," he says with a slight chuckle. "She studies the ecosystems of worlds that we visit. We all call her the 'space hippie'," Ezra says with a light shrug. "And Danni is a mechanic for the minin’ corporations that sponsor us prospectors," he adds, just as you two reach the entrance of your tent.

“Well, I’d love to hear more about your sisters. We can continue this talk at breakfast tomorrow?” You ask him with a hopeful smile. He nods, letting go of your hand and giving a slight chuckle.

"Bright ‘n early," he says, looking at you and smiling. His gaze lingers for a moment, studying your face, before giving a wink and a small nod. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says.

“Good night, Ezra. Sweet dreams.” You say reaching for his hand and giving it one more gentle squeeze before you enter your tent. He smiles as he watches you enter your tent. He stands there for a moment longer, just watching you with that same smile on his face. Finally, he puts a hand over his heart and whispers to himself,

"Sweet dreams to you too, my darlin’." Ezra turns and walks away, heading back to his own tent.

It was a great week...

Until it wasn’t. The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache. It feels like you’ve got pins and needles behind your eyes and you groan as the morning light, even dimmed by the thick tarp of your tent, stings your vision. You’re half tempted to just roll over in your cot and go back to sleep, but you decide against it.

Eventually, you make it out of bed, mainly because you hear the commotion of the men getting up and likely heading for breakfast. You look around for some clean clothes and quickly realize… you forgot to do laundry this week. Crap. You decide to pick your least offensive clothing and get dressed, reminding yourself to do laundry as soon as your shift is over. You begrudgingly start towards the dining tent.

It’s busier than usual this morning, as many crew members are trying to recover from the night before. Ezra is sitting with a few of the crew, talking and laughing together. He looks up as soon as you enter, his expression going from lighthearted merriment to a look of concern in an instant. "Hey!" he says, immediately getting up to come towards you.

“Hey,” you try to offer him a smile but your head is still pounding and you feel overall off, making it look more like a grimace. He looks at you, your expression immediately putting him on alert.

"Are you alright?" he asks with concern in his voice. He looks you up and down, noticing the slight unsteadiness in your steps.

“Not really, I’ve got this killer headache." You explain, taking a seat at the nearest table as a wave of nausea overtakes you. You take a deep breath and rest your head on your knees, closing your eyes for a moment. Ezra is clearly worried. He quickly pulls out a handkerchief and lays it on the table in front of you, before coming around the table to kneel down next to you.

"What does it feel like?" he asks, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. He glances up at you, looking for clues as he studies you. "Nausea? Light sensitivity?"

"Mmm, yup. Both of those." You reply as you take another deep breath. He places a gentle hand underneath your chin, lifting your head back.

"Look at me," he says, his tone full of concern. He quickly studies your expression, making a note of the paleness of your face before taking note of your sunken cheeks. He moves a bit away as he grabs his multitool from his belt, clicking on the small lightpen. “Follow my finger,” He instructs as he moves both the pen and his pointer finger from one edge of your vision to the other, testing your eyes’ reflexes. "You look really ill, but your eyes are responding fine," he says after a moment when he’s finished. "Stay right here," he says to you as he stands back up.

Ezra glances around, looking for any signs of a medic or medical supplies. You don't even have the energy to flush from how close he is, but you still feel relieved when he stands up. You close your eyes and take another breath, feeling the nausea start to subside. He leaves for a few minutes but you don’t even notice until he’s back.

He quickly returns to your side, carrying a few different supplies in his hands. He hands you a small bottle of water and a pill bottle, placing them on the table for you. "Here," he says, "drink some water, and take two of these," he adds, placing the pill bottle next to the bottle of water.

"What are these?" You ask him as you open up the bottle and place two into your palm. They're ovular and pink. He smiles and shakes his head slightly.

"They're for stomach troubles. Should help with the nausea," he says. "Don't worry, they're perfectly safe - some of the other crew take them all the time." Ezra watches you carefully as you take the pills. "Usually for when they eat too much grub after a shift.”

You nod and take both of them, swallowing them down with a couple swigs of water. You thank him when you're done, setting the water aside and taking a few seconds to wait for the pills to take effect. He takes a seat near you, seeming a bit more relaxed now that you've taken the medication. He watches you carefully for a moment before speaking again. "You should head back to your tent, and get some rest. I'd hate for you to overdo it this early in the day," he says, his tone still concerned.

"I can't, I gotta get the shift started," You say as you notice the rest of the crew putting on their helmets and discarding their mostly empty food trays to head out for the latest dig of the day. You make sure you feel steady before you slowly stand up, grabbing your helmet and putting it on.

Ezra gives a quick nod as you grab your equipment and start to head out of the tent. He gets up to follow you as you walk towards the group of others. "Take it easy if you can, okay?" Ezra says, trying to keep his voice low enough so only you can hear him. You nod and thank him again with a soft smile, appreciating that he’s looking out for you.

He smiles back, glancing around and making sure no one is paying attention to the two of you as you two walk a few yards. But he can’t help himself before whispering, "Ya know, you could stay in your tent for a day or two while you recover, and no one would bat an eyelash," he says quietly. "I know this expedition is important, but your health is more."

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ezra. I’ll be fine.” You insist. “I took the meds, I’m sure I’ll get over whatever this is soon.” You two reach your grid and you begin setting your pack and equipment down. He looks at you for a moment, a slight frown on his face as he watches to make sure you're doing alright.

"I'm not goin’ to be able to talk you into it, am I?" he asks you teasingly. You can hear the worry in his tone, though, and his expression is one more of trepidation than amusement.

“No, you can’t.” You say with a bit of a smile. “We have to work. I’ll be fine.” You say, beginning to get a bit irritated with his concern. It’s not that you find it annoying, but you know your work is important. Still, it’s not his fault that you woke up feeling like garbage. You sigh. “Look, if I’m feeling worse, I’ll take a break. Are you good with that?” You ask him.

He seems to sense your irritation and nods, submitting. "Yeah, I get it. It's our job," he says, his expression turning serious again. He stands with you for a moment longer, watching as you kneel down to access the gem mounds below the forest floor. He glances around to make sure that everyone is occupied before speaking again. "Good luck with the diggin’," he whispers. "I'm sure you'll find somethin’ amazin’."

You soften as he wishes you luck. “You too. I’ll see you at lunch?” You offer with a hopeful look. Ezra nods and smiles at you, seeming a bit more reassured now that you're ready to start digging.

"Yeah, I'll meet you at lunch," he replies. Ezra gives you a little nod and starts to head off in the direction of his space. You're still not feeling great, but as soon as you start working, your mind begins to become focused on the task at hand. It's easier to ignore the headache and nausea when you're digging... at least, for the time being.

All work momentarily pauses as the alarms coming through your radios signal that Denver’s got an announcement,

“Morning, crew,” He greets and you all respond in kind, all eyes on the ground moving upwards to watch him as he stands at the watchtower. “I know we’ve got Kevva’s Light coming up this weekend so I’m making this announcement to every last one of you to let you know that you’ve got the rest of the weekend off-” The crew erupts in cheers, and you smile. “Our shifts will be cut short today, only half a day, and then we’ve got the next 2 and a half days for ourselves.” Your group cheers again and the man’s smile widens into a grin. “Feel free to celebrate our Goddess’ Holy Day however you want: rest, party… drink.” He says that last bit with playful emphasis and there’s another cheer. “I’m planning a small feast in the dining hall tomorrow evening, so feel free to come hang out if you’d like. Now, let’s have a great dig,” With that, the work resumes and you’re glad the happy announcement brought you some needed distraction.

But unfortunately, the distraction doesn’t last long. You spend hour after hour digging but it seems like your luck on this expedition has finally run dry. Your frustration seems to bring the headache back tenfold, and you decide to finally take that break, sitting down on a nearby log to rest. You look around and spot Ezra a few yards away.

He also seems to be having an awful dig today, if his near-empty pack is anything to go by. His brow is furrowed and his frown is deep as he continues to dig. He looks over at you and notices you taking that rest. He walks over and takes a seat next to you, glancing over with a sympathetic look as he surveys his own pile. He lets out a sigh and looks up at the clouds, seeming frustrated with the lack of discoveries he's made so far.

"Well, this is just peachy, ain’t it?" he asks, turning to face you with a small laugh. Ezra pauses for a moment when he sees the state of your own pile. "It looks like things aren't goin’ too well for us today, huh?" he says with an awkward smile. You offer the same awkward smile back.

“I suppose not.” You say. You sigh and run a hand through your hair as your head throbs again. “At least it’s almost lunchtime.” You say with a small frown. Ezra nods, seeming to reach the same conclusion as you.

"Yeah," he says, offering a small smile. "Lunchtime is always a good thing, no matter the circumstances," he says. "And hey, you never know what good the Holy Day will bring," Ezra says optimistically. After another long moment, Ezra stands back up. "If you want, we could go over the map together for next week? Maybe that’ll give us another avenue of labor to dig into," he adds, offering a hopeful look. You nod, even if you were actually hoping to get some rest during lunch. But who knows? Maybe a distraction and some time with the closest person you can call ‘friend’ is what you need.

“Ok, sure.” You say softly. You stand up with another sigh. “C’mon, let’s keep going. It’s only another half-hour until lunch.” You say and stand up.

Ezra follows you to your area first. As he walks, Ezra also occasionally glances over at you, looking for any signs of how you're feeling. "You still holdin’ up okay?" he asks, his voice soft so none of the other crew members can overhear.

“Yeah, doing a bit better.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “My head’s hurting again, but I think I’ll just look for something in my medkit once my shift is over.” You say softly as you set your own stuff down and resume your work.

He nods and wishes you luck again before going back to his space. Every now and then he glances over to make sure you're doing alright, watching you work. He clears a good portion of his area, glancing over at his watch and sighing from being disappointed with the lack of discoveries. So he decides to go back to you again.

"How’s it this time around? Any luck?" he asks, his voice hopeful for you despite his obvious disappointed expression.

“Nope.” You say bluntly, sighing with frustration. The alarms ring to signal lunch time and you throw your stuff down where it is, marching away from the site. “Goddamnit, not one good dig. I can’t believe it.” You mumble, half to yourself, half to Ezra. He exhales sharply and places his hands on his hips, a look of frustration on his face.

"I know the feelin’," he says, glancing around at the empty piles of dirt. "Sometimes it's not meant to be," he adds. Ezra then turns back towards you, offering you a small smile. "Come on... let's head to lunch," he says before starting to walk towards the dining tent with the rest of the men.

You two grab your trays and get into the growing line of men, Ezra allowing you to serve yourself first.

“So, got any plans for Kevva’s Light?” He asks, a little too hopeful that your answer is no.

“Not really,” You admit with a soft shrug. “I didn’t grow up religious or celebrating. I mean we always had time off on that weekend, so my parents would pull me out of school early the day before and we’d go and do stuff together,” You pause as you both grab a bowl to serve yourselves some stuff that resembles stew. “But, that stopped after my dad passed and we never really made an effort to pick it back up. If anything, I just sleep a lot.” You add with a small chuckle, making Ezra smile as you grab a bread roll next. “How about you?” He shrugs and serves you both some green juice.

“I grew up pretty devoted, if I’m bein’ honest.” He responds, seeming almost embarrassed by that fact. “But, I haven’t been an official follower in a long time.” You two begin the walk to the closest available table. “To be frank, I ditched the whole idea while out here.” He says, and there’s something slightly bitter in his tone and his eyes but you don’t push it. Instead, you nod,

“I get that. I have friends back home who did too. Those celebrations do seem pretty fun though. I know they and their families would have big parties or do those moonlit rituals.” You say, both sitting down and beginning to eat. He cracks a smile at that, at ease again.

“My parents did everythin’: the Observations of Silence, the big family feast, the Moonlight Dance. Pretty sure it was their favorite holiday of the year.” He says. You smile when he does, before taking a spoonful of warm stew.

“Well, we can always go to Denver’s dinner? Sounds like a lot of the crew is planning on attending?” You offer. His smile widens when you say, ‘we’, still not used to the fact that you consider him in your plans now.

“Actually,” He says, and pauses for just a beat too long as he figures out the best way to word this. “I was thinkin’ we could do somethin’ a little more private in one of our tents? I’m still not keen on celebratin’ much, but I think we could have a special dinner for the two of us?” His eyes are almost cinnamon in this light and warm as they meet yours in a hopeful gaze. You smile and nod. There’s something in his tone that makes you see that this isn’t just another get-together. For whatever reason you can tell that this… means something else.

“Sure. Why not?” His shoulders practically sag with relief and you both eat your stew and bread in a comfortable silence. But then, your head begins to throb again. You wince and he notices.

“Headache’s still here?” He asks and you nod with a grimace. “We should get you your medkit.” He grabs your now empty dishes along with his and takes them to the wash pile before you two leave the tent, heading for your tent.

You follow along, feeling your head begin to throb even worse. You ignore it for the moment. You lead him inside. “Have a seat.” You say, gesturing to your cot, while you grab a chair for yourself. After you’re both seated, Ezra sighs and glances over at you again and sees that you’re still in pain.

"Let me get it for you.” He says.

“It should be right above you in the cabinet right there.” You say, pointing behind him, a few feet above his head.

Ezra looks up at where you're pointing, finding the medkit resting exactly where you said. He nods and quickly gets up, grabbing the kit off of the shelf. Ezra returns to his seat, holding the kit in his hand. "Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "Do you want some water with those?" he asks, indicating to the pills in the kit.

“I have some, thanks.” You say, grabbing your canteen and opening it. You grab a pain reliever and take it quickly, hoping it kicks in fast. “Ok, so have you got that map to look at?” You ask him. He nods and pulls out the map, quickly glancing over it to familiarize himself with the layout.

"Let's see... we've already covered this whole area right here," he says, pointing to a section of the map. "And we did a bit more over here," he adds, pointing to another area before looking at you. "So it looks like the next spot to hit is this area here. Hopefully, that'll be a bit more lucky for us," Ezra says with a smile. "What do you think?" Your brow furrows.

“Mm, that’s too close to those groups I noticed the other night. We don’t want to cause any trouble. Do you know if Denver’s had any communication with them?” You ask him. He sighs and shakes his head.

"I don't think so. We can't seem to establish any kind of line of communication with the other groups," he says, sounding a bit frustrated. Ezra pauses for a moment, thinking about the situation. "You're right," he says eventually. "That area is a bit too close for comfort. Do you have any other ideas? I want to make sure we're findin’ somethin’ today. Just not somethin’ that'll bring us trouble." He pauses for a moment, looking at you.

“Well, there is this area, closer to the river.” You say, pointing to an area further east. “Maybe this one might work?” Your tone is hopeful but when you look up to meet Ezra’s eyes, his frown and furrowed brow put a stop to your optimism. “What?”

He sighs and shakes his head again, seeming more concerned now. "That's even worse," he says, his voice filled with a hint of urgency. "That area is a bit of a no-go," he adds, staring at you with a serious expression. He pauses for a moment before speaking again. "The groups near the river have been especially unfriendly," Ezra explains. "I... I can't quite go into detail, but there was an incident the other night." Ezra looks like he might say more, but he stops himself. "That area's off-limits," he says finally.

“Well we can’t go your route, that’s also too close.” You point out. “We’ve got to be able to get to the area near the river.” He sighs and rubs his face in frustration.

"We're runnin’ outta options..." he says, sounding a bit exasperated. "What ‘bout this here?" he asks, his voice rising in pitch as he points out another area on the map. "It's a bit of a walk... and it's goin’ into an area we haven't explored yet, but maybe that'll help our cause." Ezra offers a hopeful smile, staring back at you. You shake your head, your own frustration climbing too.

“I mentioned that spot to Denver when we first got here; he said it’s full of unstable caves that have been known to collapse. He doesn’t want to risk any of us going in there.” You say.

“Goddmnit.” He mumbles. You two spend the next five minutes pouring over that map, trying out different plans on how to find a more bountiful site. All to no avail. Finally, Ezra pushes away the map with a frustrated groan.

He sighs again and puts his head in his hands, seeming like he might just give up. "Do you have any ideas?" he asks, his tone filled with desperation. "We're runnin’ outta time, and we're runnin’ outta options. I need somethin’," he says, sounding stressed and anxious. Ezra glances up at you again, looking like he might just go off and try digging on his own. "Do you have anythin’? Anythin’ at all?"

You run a hand through your hair again, wincing when your fingers catch on a small knot. You undo it with your fingers before sighing. “I know, Ezra. I know.” You say, a slight tone of annoyance beginning to creep into your voice. “You’re not the only one that needs this dig to go well.”

Ezra looks up sharply at the change in your tone, seeming a bit hurt by the annoyance. "No, I know that," he says, sounding annoyed himself. "It's just that... it feels like you've shot down every idea I've had so far," he says, throwing his hands up, visibly frustrated. "I don't know what you want from me. I've been workin’ just as hard as you, and I need somethin’ to turn up," he says, his voice raising as he gets more irritated. You shake your head.

“You know that’s not it. I’m not shooting down your ideas for nothing.” You protest, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. He stares at you for a moment, still not liking the tone you're taking with him, but he tries to keep his temper in check.

"So why are you shootin’ ‘em down?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused. Ezra takes a breath and puts his hands on his knees, trying to remain calm. He pauses for a moment before speaking again. "Look, I'm just as frustrated as you right now," he says. "I'm just tryin’ to find somethin’ that we can both agree on, somethin’ that actually has a chance of workin’."

“I know that.” You snap. “But this terrain is dangerous. If it’s not the obstacles, it’s the groups around us. We can’t just go anywhere we want, you know that.”

"Yeah, I do know that," Ezra replies, throwing his hands up again in frustration as he paces a bit. "But I can work with danger, okay? I can handle the groups, I know how to navigate the terrain, none of that bothers me," he answers. Ezra stares daggers at you, but he doesn't say anything further as he takes a few moments to calm himself down. "We just need a spot to go where we actually have a chance of findin’ somethin’ worthwhile, alright?" Ezra asks, his tone still a bit harsh, but not quite as intense as before.

You let out a sound of frustration and rise from your seat, rolling your eyes. “Kevva above, you’re such a vet.” You say.

"What are you tryin’ to say?" His voice suddenly sharp as he asks, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Ezra stares at you, not wanting to speak out of turn or jump to conclusions. He also keeps a close eye on your tone, as the frustration earlier still has him on edge.

“I’m saying that just because you’ve been here longer than most of us doesn’t mean you know everything, Ezra.” You say, crossing your arms again. “I know you think you can handle yourself but we both know a lot of those groups are the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ type.”

Ezra sighs and shakes his head at you, clearly frustrated. "I never said I knew everythin’," he says, bringing his voice back down. "But you know I've been out here, dealin’ with those 'shoot first' groups for years," Ezra says, turning away from you, and looking at the ground. He glances back over at you after a moment, and it looks like he's trying to stay calm. But it's hard. "I never said I was perfect, did I? You know how hard it is, especially out here. So maybe consider that I know what I'm talkin’ about a lil bit."

“I know you know your stuff, Ezra. But you’re clearly not getting that this shit isn’t just a walk in the park. If something happens to you, it damages more than just you. It impacts all of us.” You say with a frown.

Ezra stares at you, visibly conflicted. "Do you think I haven't thought about that?" he asks, his voice still tense. Ezra raises his hands as he stands up straighter and puts them on his hips, not knowing how to explain himself to you. He takes another moment to collect his thoughts before turning back towards you, speaking once more. "Look, I'm not suggestin’ we go out and seek out trouble. I know the risks... believe me." Ezra pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "But we need some course of action, here.”

“Of course we do, but it takes more than just ‘I can work with danger’,” you say, using air quotes. “It takes planning and strategy and hoping that these jagoff groups aren’t keen to kill us!”

He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in surrender. He huffs and turns away from you, starting to lose his patience. Ezra takes a step closer, his voice raised again. "Okay, rook, then what's your plan, huh? What's your 'strategy'?" Ezra glares at you and points a finger in your direction, daring you to give him anything. "Because it sure looks like you've got nothin’! Nothin' but my plan. So what's it gonna be?"

You frown. “Ugh, you’re so infuriating!”

He gives you a smug smile and leans in, getting close to you. "And you think you're not infuriatin’?" he asks, taking a moment to consider you. "I'm doin’ my best here," he continues, taking a more serious tone. "We both know how high-stakes this all is, but we also know how important it is to get a dig done... you need to trust me here," Ezra says, his voice softer now. Ezra gazes at you, waiting for a response. You consider his tone as you take a minute. He’s trying to diffuse the situation. You rub the back of your neck tiredly and step away to refocus.

“Fine… you’re right.” You concede in kind, your own voice is less harsh now. “I’m sorry… we’re obviously still able to get on each other’s nerves too easily.” You say, trying to joke to lessen the tension further. There's a small hint of a smile on his face at your response.

"Yeah, I guess we are," he says, chuckling lightly. Ezra clears his throat and rubs his face. "I know we're just a little tense because of this situation, but I don't want either of us to say somethin’ we'll regret, yeah?" You nod, agreeing with him.

“We’re too tense right now. Maybe we just should take some time away from each other. Just for the rest of the day until we cool off.” You suggest. He nods, understanding where you're coming from.

"Yeah, that might be for the best," he says, agreeing with your suggestion. "Let's both go off and do somethin’ else for a bit, just to clear our heads, and then we can try again once we're a little more relaxed." Ezra takes a deep breath and stretches his arms out, trying to release the tension from his muscles. "Do you mind if I go do a little diggin’ on my own for a bit?" Ezra asks, looking back at you. "It always calms me down, you know?" You nod and look around your tent, noticing the full hamper and remembering what you’d told yourself this morning.

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna get some laundry done.” You say quietly and walk over to your hamper. “We can talk about things later at dinner, how’s that sound?” You ask.

Ezra nods and gives you a small smile. "Sounds good to me," he says, taking a few steps toward the doorway to exit the tent. "Maybe havin’ somethin’ else to focus on will help clear our heads, yeah? I’ll see you in a few hours." Ezra pauses at the entrance and looks back over at you. His tone still has a bit of tension in it, but he's trying to move past everything. He takes a deep breath before exiting the tent to leave you some room to breathe.

You spend the rest of your lunch and your shift doing laundry. Unlike life back home, you have to do most everything manually. So you grab your large washing tub, your washboard, some soap packs, and your hamper. For the next couple of hours, you work on your clothing, washing every article carefully, twice. You even grab your boots and helmet and clean them as well. When you’re done, you set up a quick makeshift clothesline with some rope between two trees to hang all your clothes to air-dry with the remaining sunlight.

Ezra spends the next few hours digging on his own. He moves his way a fair distance from the campsite, and for some time you can see his silhouette against the horizon as he digs in the dirt and rocks. He seems quite frustrated at times, kicking the ground and throwing his equipment to the floor, muttering to himself. Eventually, he stops, wiping his brow and sitting on the forest floor to take a break. "Kevva..." he mumbles to himself. He lets out another sigh and lays back, staring up at the sky for a while.

You’re tempted to walk over, but you know you should keep your distance. Things are uneasy with you two right now and your friendship with him is currently rocky at best. So instead you watch him as he eventually gives in, for the time being, heading to his own tent presumably to wash up for the evening. You grab some of your clothing from the line, the other half still damp, before you do the same, heading inside your tent to shower and leaving the rest of your clean things to dry.

After you’re ready for dinner, you exit your tent just as Ezra’s exiting his. You’ve changed into some shorts and a t-shirt while Ezra’s in a white muscle shirt and a pair of sweats. Your eyes meet and he seems hesitant, as if he wants to say something, but is unsure of how to. You notice that his mood hasn’t lightened, the furrow between his brows still tight and his mouth turned downwards. He walks over and takes a deep breath and then speaks, his voice quiet.

"...Hey," he starts, "listen... I'm... I'm a little frustrated right now, yeah?" Ezra pauses, letting his words hang there in the air.

“Yeah,” you say playfully to keep that tension from returning, even if you feel it rolling off of both of you in waves. “I can see that…” Your voice softens when you give him a once-over; “is there anything I can do to help?” You ask him.

Ezra takes a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. "I think... I think you know that it's important for me to get a diggin’ done," he starts carefully. "... and I know that's important for us all, but... I just feel like I'm bein’ questioned at every step of the way." Ezra pauses, letting his words linger for a moment. "That's frustratin’." He asks, staring at you with an expectation in his eyes. Ezra's tone is still quiet and subdued, but there's a slight sharpness to it now.

“Ez…” you sigh, not wanting to irritate him further. “Look, it’s been a tough day for both of us, can we agree on that?” You ask.

"Yes, we can," Ezra answers, his tone softening a bit. He breathes in slowly, trying to let go of some of the tension he’s feeling. "Look, I know you're just tryin’ to make sure we don't rush things, but sometimes I feel like you're not even givin’ my ideas a chance." Ezra pauses for a moment, considering his words before continuing. "I know this is a serious expedition with serious consequences, but we can't be too careful, either. We have to take some risks, otherwise we won't get anywhere."

You nod. “I know. You do know what you’re doing, otherwise you wouldn’t still be out here.” You say. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you or trust your instincts I just…” you trail off for a moment, not wanting to say what you really want to.

Ezra waits patiently as you consider your words, looking at you intently. He senses that you have something more to say, but don't know how to say it. A single eyebrow raises in curiosity, silently encouraging you to continue.

“I worry, alright? Believe it or not: I worry about you.” You admit, averting your eyes.

Ezra's eyebrow furrows and he sighs. "I know it can be dangerous out here, especially as things have been tense with the dig site lately," he says patiently. Ezra takes a deep breath before continuing, his tone getting a bit softer. "But our team looks after each other, right?" Ezra pauses for a moment, then continues. There’s obvious doubt in your eyes but you nod anyway, conceding for now.

“Right.” You say quietly. “Can we move on from this, please?” You ask him. “I’d really just like to talk about something else.” You say, rubbing your head as you feel your headache throb again. Ezra nods, his expression softening as he sees you rubbing your head.

"Of course, we can," Ezra asks, his voice almost remorseful. "I know I can get a bit tense sometimes, and I don't think I'm the most likable person," Ezra says, a bit of self-deprecation creeping into his tone. Ezra looks at you for a moment before speaking again, his voice softer now, seemingly more concerned for you than before. "... is your head still hurtin’?" Ezra asks, genuinely worried. You nod.

“I think it’s all the stress from today,” you mutter, your tone a bit bitter but it softens when you look at him again. “Let’s go get something to eat.” You say. Ezra nods, taking a step toward you again. He puts one of his arms out in a friendly manner.

"Sounds good to me. I know I could use a bite," he says, his tone still concerned over your pain. Ezra pauses for a moment to think, his expression becoming more serious once again. With a slow breath, Ezra looks at you and says, "... about that plan, though. Can we talk about that? Just for a quick second."

“Ezra,” you warn him as you give him a long look. “Can you just drop it?” Your tone is sharper again.

“Just one conversation, c’mon, I really think we should-”

“Kevva above you are so frustrating!” You say. “I don’t want to talk about this plan anymore. If you want to talk about it, feel free to go to Denver and argue about it with him and the rest of the crew but leave me out of it!” You snap and storm off to your tent angrily.

Ezra stares at you in disbelief as you storm off. His expression is a mixture of shock and confusion as he watches you disappear into your tent. Ezra takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He stares at the ground in dismay for a moment as he tries to process everything. Ezra's expression suddenly shifts to one of anger. He clenches his fists and takes a few steps toward your tent, throwing the entry flap aside, and following after you

"What the hell was that?" Ezra asks, not shouting, but still a bit more forceful than before.

“It’s called ‘leaving the conversation’! You should be used to me doing it by now!” You snap back, your arms now crossed over your chest defensively.

"You can't just end the conversation because you're frustrated," Ezra snaps back, trying to hold back his anger. "I can't even ask simple questions without you gettin’ angry. You can't just brush everythin’ off like it doesn't matter! We have a plan and a responsibility here!" Ezra's tone is stern now, and the intensity is clearly increasing in his voice.

“No, you have a plan! A ridiculous plan that is going to get you killed and I’m not going to sit around and wait for that to happen!” You snap back, marching up to him angrily.

"Are you listenin’ to yourself right now?" Ezra asks, his voice full of genuine passion. "You won't let me just ask a question about it without snappin’ at me! We're supposed to be on the same team, but you don't trust me at all. You don't listen to any of my ideas, and when I try to discuss a strategy, you storm off like a child!" Ezra's hands are clenched into fists by his side. The energy of the argument is clearly growing more intense as your joint anger builds.

“So you’d rather, what, I just stay in place and listen to you go on and on about this plan that you haven’t even thought through fully yet?!” You yell back.

"And you'd rather what, yell at me until I stop talkin’?" Ezra mocks back defensively. "We need a plan, and if you have any better ideas for doin’ this, then let's hear ‘em!” He crosses his arms and leans back to watch you scramble for a response. When you don’t have one, the corner of his lip quirks up into a smug grin. “Do you?? Or are we just gonna fight until one of us gives up?!" Ezra's eyes are burning with anger now, and his expression is a mask of raw emotion. The argument is becoming increasingly heated as you stare each other down.

“I don’t give up!” You yell back, moving closer to him.

“Yeah, clearly!” He yells. The words hang between you two as you both glare at each other, the energy around you both intense, angry, and frustrated. You sigh and take a breath, trying to get your shit mood under control.

“Look, just get out! I’m done talking about this. My head is killing me, this day has been utter shit, and we’re obviously not getting anywhere with this.”

Ezra takes a step back, his expression now showing hurt and a slight sense of betrayal. "Look, I'm only trying to-" Ezra starts to speak, but he's cut off by you telling him to get out. Ezra sighs in defeat and his expression shifts from hurt to anger again. He stares at you for a moment before throwing his arms up in the air. "Fine. I tried," he says in a huff. He starts to turn around before stopping and spinning back around to face you again. "Kevvassake, do you ever listen to anyone?"

“No, I guess I don’t.” You mumble with clear sarcasm as you turn away from him.

Ezra seems like he’s about to leave, still clearly angry, but then he turns back, marching up to you and turning you to face him. The forcefulness of that action makes you pause as he grabs you by the shoulders firmly.

“What the hell??” You ask him.

Ezra stares at you, seemingly not aware of his sudden show of aggression. He still appears angry, but now there's a sense of confusion as well. He looks conflicted and troubled, but there’s a set in his jaw. A determination. He suddenly moves his hold from your shoulders to your forearms and pulls you close, his eyes shifting from determination to passion. You can barely even process it before a pair of lips comes into contact with your cheekbone; just the lightest brush against your skin. But it’s enough to send a jolt through you, straight to your abdomen in a hot zing. Your eyes widen for a moment, mainly out of pure confusion.

You were almost sure he was about to kiss you. But before you can voice that, he moves. He pulls you closer again, his breath coming in quick and shallow as he kisses your cheek again, then your jaw, your chin, the side of your neck. The kisses are short and quick, but they still make you weak in the knees. Your hands go to his shoulders, grabbing onto him like an anchor. You feel his smile against your skin as he works his way back up to the underside of your ear, his facial scruff tickling,

"Goddess above, I've wanted to do that for a very long time..." Ezra mutters between kisses as he makes his way down again. He puts one of his hands on the back of your head and pulls you even closer to him. His lips begin softly sucking on your skin, and there’s the lightest threat of teeth, even if he doesn’t bite down.

You shiver hard, your pulse quickening under his mouth. “Ez…” you gasp. “Ezra, hold on… you’re,” His tongue darts out and it feels so smooth and warm and impossibly soft. Your thighs clench. “Oh goddess above,”

It gently flicks against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath coming in raspy. He kisses your jaw, making his way up to your ear again. "Do you think you can keep quiet for just a little while?" Ezra purrs softly, and you can feel his hot breath. His hand begins to caress the side of your face, his fingers softly brushing against your temple. Ezra looks at you passionately - his eyes fixed on yours. As you meet them, you notice that they’re now darker than you’ve ever seen them, the pupil almost completely overtaking the iris.

You groan softly, curling a hand into his hair. “I’m…. I just… I don’t understand. I know how you feel about me but I… god I wasn’t expecting-“

"You feel it too, don't you?" Ezra asks with a smile, his voice tender. He moves one of his legs in between yours, and the urge to grind yourself against it is pathetic. He can tell too, can see the way your eyes flit down as you debate it for the smallest second. He leans into you, looking at your face with desire. He brings his knee right to the apex of your thighs and gently teases you, watching your mouth silently drop open.

“Oh… Ezra…” his name sounds like a devotion as you groan, “We-We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t even hold a conversation right now.” You say with a breathless laugh, even as you pull him closer.

Ezra looks at you for a moment, but that look is soon replaced with a devilish grin. "I think we can find a more suitable way to communicate," Ezra says with a smirk. He gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He now moves his lips down to your collarbone. He moves his knee away, and shoves your shorts and underwear aside, not even bothering to undress you as he uses two fingers to touch you. Your body almost freezes.

You gasp. “Ez!” You clamp a hand over your mouth as you realize that was a bit too loud in the now silence of the camp. He lets out a throaty, breathless laugh of his own, just a rough chuckle that makes you hyperaware of his chest against yours.

"You really need to learn how to be quiet..." He whispers, his voice filled with desire. He moves his head a bit and kisses down the side of your neck again; his touch is softer, more delicate now. "I really wish you could see yourself at this moment," Ezra says in a gentle, yet playful tone.

He nudges you gently back and guides you over to the nearest wall of the tent, pinning you in place with his body. His other hand runs through your hair, tugging on it slightly as his fingers return eagerly between your thighs. "Oh, I can feel you too," Ezra whispers softly between kisses. “Ya feel that?” He asks, pulling back to meet your eyes while his touch never ceases. It even increases in both roughness and pace, making you groan again. He waits for a response, his eyes burning as he looks down at you. He moves your hand away from your mouth, a silent command for you to respond.

“Y-Yes, I feel that, Ez.” His grin is triumphant, his eyes shining as you finally reveal how good he’s making you feel. He leans in again to mumble in your ear.

"I want more..." he says in a pleading groan, his lips barely moving, "I want to touch you more than just this, darlin’. I want to touch you in ways that no one’s ever touched anyone before..." The sound of his fingers moving in and out of you distracts you for just a moment. "Tell me... tell me that you want me, too," Ezra whispers, his lips moving over yours, being careful not to make contact. He's so close, so, so, so close… But he pulls away at the last moment, making you almost cry out as you ache for his touch to return.

Finally, in a longing sigh, you breathe out:

“Please…”

His body trembles. His heart is beating so hard that he swears he can feel every blood cell pulsing throughout his veins. His kisses on your skin return but this time they’re hungry… starving. He has no words. All he knows is the scent of your hair, the sounds from your mouth, the taste of your flesh. The way his body is pressed against yours is driving him crazy. This feels so good, too good. He slowly brings the hand that was in your hair out, his index finger gently tracing a line along your collarbone. He smiles, feeling the soft skin underneath his fingertips.

You shiver at the touch of his fingertip, even that small delicate gesture making your body react. He’s touched you before but not like that. Not so gently but so clearly veiled with desire before.

He feels your body reacting, and his heart rate increases. He wants more. He can't stop. Slowly, deliberately, he takes his time, enjoying every part of you. He gently slides his fingers down toward the small of your back, and as he feels the dip of your lower back, he presses his hand into the soft skin there. But he still doesn’t give you a chance to move. Not that that’s the first thing on your to-do list at the moment. He moves his hand lower, and he lets his fingers trace along the top of your thigh, coming just within a few inches of an area where no other man should touch you again.

Your breathing hitches when he reaches that spot and you try to regain some composure but you can’t. A soft pathetic whimper escapes your mouth as your body already feels addicted to his touch. A sound you’ve never made around him before.

He feels you make the sound, and just like that, his brain stops working. He can't control himself anymore. He wants you, needs you, but he knows he should stop himself. He's pushing you into something he thinks you never thought you would want.

"If it's too much... just tell me to stop, and I will... just say the word, and I'll back away. I'll stop, I promise you that.” Ezra says, his voice thick with lust and desire, his eyes locked on yours.

“It’s not too much.” You respond. He grins again, a soft sound of almost disbelief escaping his throat. He runs his free hand down your back, to your hips.... and then, suddenly, slides it underneath your shirt.

"Let me love you, yeah?" Ezra whispers. You nod, the tempo of his fingers inside you hitting all the right beats as you can’t do much in terms of talking, biting your lip so hard to shut yourself up you can almost taste blood. But all too soon your reasoning rears its raucous head, not letting you fully live in the moment.

“Ezra… I-I’m just confused.” You admit; your heartbeat is racing. “I don’t… I just don’t understand.” You subconsciously lick your lips, wishing he would give you a taste of him. As if reading your mind, he smiles and pulls away just a little to remove his shirt.

Unlike that day at the pool, you take full advantage of the sight, drinking in his skin. Your eyes drink in the exact tan, the various scars, the hair on his chest, and the happy trail leading down lower. Your own skin grows hot and you see his response in kind, turning that now-familiar shade of rose. He smirks and lets you ogle all you want, before he leans in, kissing your nose to direct your eyes back to his face,

"We're both confused," Ezra says softly, his index finger coming up to trace the outline of your lips again. "But right now... right now is all we have, and I just want to be with you. Nothin’ else matters. This is ours, just for us, tonight. No one should know; no one has to interfere."

“Just for tonight?” Your tone is pensive, thinking as you look down for a moment. You shouldn’t agree to this. It would be career suicide. But he’s already said no one needs to know.

“This can just be stress relief.” He lifts your eyes to him again with just a tap on your chin. "And then we forget it ever happened,” Ezra asks, the excitement building in his voice. "Just for tonight, and then we never talk about it again... deal?" His hand drifts down again and your body immediately buzzes in anticipation as his fingers once again sneak their way into your underwear.

“Deal.”

He smiles as you agree, feeling a wave of excitement and relief wash over him. He whispers into your ear as he comes closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me," Ezra says. You're his, and he wants you more than anything else at this moment. You're his to love, to touch, to kiss, to taste. His face is buried into the soft skin of your neck, and he breathes you in deeply, just wanting as much of you as possible.

You're all he wants. The taste of you, the smell of you, the heat of you, the feel of you against him. He speeds up his pace, giving it to you freely now as the sound of his fingers and your combined ragged breaths become the only sounds in the room.

"You feel so good," Ezra whispers, his voice husky with desire. "So good."

“O-Oh my god…” You haven’t been touched like this in ages. Your head rests against the wall and your eyes close as you don’t make one single attempt to stop him.

Ezra watches your face, his eyes filled with want, desire, and lust. The feel of your skin against his fingertips is otherworldly, your body like fire in his hands. His breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath as he watches you and feels you against him. A slow smile spreads across Ezra's face, and he leans in, his body brushing against yours, his voice heavy and sultry as he breathes out.

"So good..." he purrs, his fingers moving slower and more intimately.

You moan at the feeling, “I swear to god if you tell anyone about this-“ Ezra smirks at your threat, but he doesn't stop what he's doing. In fact, he moves even slower as if just desperate to continue teasing you.

"I won't tell anyone, don't worry." He says coyly. He takes a moment to try and compose himself, swallowing hard. "But Blessed Mother, you feel so soft..."

“Oh fuck,” The rhythm of his fingers, his words. It’s all driving you crazy. You never expected anyone to make you feel like this, especially not Ezra. And yet, here you are. Completely at his mercy.

Ezra chuckles at your sudden outburst, his fingers pausing for a split second until he picks up again, and this time his rhythm picks up faster.

And as soon as he does that, your breathing rushes back in, and you let out an incredible moan. It escapes your throat against your own judgment, your head tilting back to face the ceiling of the tent. When he hears that, Ezra’s entire body sings, like something awakens in him. Something desperate to hear you make that exact sound again, no matter what he has to do. Your hips begin to move, chasing that rhythm, that delicious burn from his fingers as more moans follow the first.

"That’s right," he says softly after a moment, his voice still a bit breathless, and his eyes are locked on yours, "Do you know how much you turn me on?" he asks in a low voice. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve ached to do this for you?” The tension in your body is building, building, building…

He doesn't stop what he's doing. He's in control now, and he can see the tension building inside you. He can feel your body giving into it, and he can't help but feel a rush of power and excitement as he watches. He's made you want him, and there's no turning back now.

He moves faster, his fingers picking up speed and intensity again. Another moan, louder than the first leaves your mouth and you tuck your face into his neck. You muffle the sounds you’re making by kissing and licking at his skin, causing him to shudder audibly in your ear. He tastes like fresh water and soap, the scent of his body wash filling your nose and making your mind dizzy.

“Goddamn, the night you straddled me.” He continues, his voice dripping with desire. “Kevva be damned, I almost just took you right then and there.” He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh at that. “Almost ripped your suit off right in that tower, almost bent you over the railin’. A-Almost made you mine right in the middle of camp.” Something halfway between a cry and a groan leaves your mouth and you squeeze his fingers, making him curse under his breath again. He feels the tension in your body building with each passing second, and his eyes darken with determination now.

You turn your face towards him as if to kiss him, but he pulls back at the last possible second, instead kissing the dip under your ear to make up for it.

“Not yet.” His voice is a low growl in your ear.

“Wh-Why?” You ask, your voice needy and breathless as you try to hold yourself back from screaming.

“Because I know this doesn't mean a damned thing.” His voice is almost angry as he pumps his fingers faster, and harder. He curls his fingers deep. You bite your lip hard as a muffled scream escapes you, your hips following his lead. “And I want that to matter. You understand, rook?”

You can’t even respond, you know if you do you’ll lose it so you nod against his shoulder furiously and he smiles. He gives you a moment to recover your composure, but he never stops his movement. You find it even in this haze and you release your lip from between your teeth and let yourself make noise again, trying to keep quiet but it quickly builds in volume and you muffle it with the skin of his shoulder. He can tell you're about to reach a breaking point. Your moans are constant now and your hips begin to falter in their rhythm, making him smile against your jaw. He knows how important this is and he keeps his pace perfectly, going silent for a full 30 seconds before,

"You deserve this, sweetheart," he growls. “Let yourself have it.”

It doesn’t take long at all and with a moan that morphs into a cry of his name, you break, your entire body tensing and relaxing as the pleasure washes over you from head to toe and back. Ezra grins as he watches, and when you cry out, his lips pull up into a genuine smile. He leans in closer, his smile filling his eyes as he looks at you.

"Yeah… c’mon just like that…. good. You did s'good," he murmurs softly into your hairline, his voice filled with excitement, power, and a tenderness you didn’t expect. His hand rests in your hair, gently caressing your neck as you come down from your peak, his voice hushed as he praises you, his fingers stopping their rhythm slowly as he draws out your high for all it’s worth.

His touch grounds you, giving you something to anchor yourself with as your ecstasy morphs into bliss. Another, softer sound escapes your mouth as you close your eyes to regulate your breathing.

Ezra watches, feeling relieved. Your face is flushed, your hair disheveled, but you look beautiful in his eyes. It's the first time he's seen you this way, this intimate, and he can't help but smile at the sight.

"Are you okay?" Ezra asks, his voice gentle and caring. The look in his eyes is one of concern mixed with affection, and it warms your heart. When you nod, another shaky exhale escaping your mouth, he lets you go. He smiles one more time. “Good… sweet dreams.” He plants one final, tender but fierce kiss against your forehead before he leaves without another word. You can’t even stop him or beg him to come back and honestly, you don’t even know if you want to. One thing you do notice though: your headache is gone.

You spend the rest of the night thinking about it and… replaying it all in your head. Your mind is confused, turned on, and conflicted all at once. The way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he moved.... the way he made you move.

Suffice it to say you don’t get much sleep that night.

******

WOOH, damn. Ok, hopefully this being another extra long chapter (not intentional) makes up for me not posting all month hahahaha...... Anyway, I had to take some time away from this cuz you all know how I am with spice if you read my stuff I love it but HATE writing it. Also, good news: I got into grad school! I start in two weeks so I have been CRUNCHING it to get everything in order and really have not had the time to write. Anyway, that’s it, thanks a million, hope you all enjoyed, and see you in the next one!

Tag List: @pedrocentric @luz-introvertida @castleamc @moralesfish @klara-luise18 @supernaturalgirl89 @december-gal1 @pbeatriz @castleamcc @hillarymurray4 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @sherala007 @littlemisspascal @practicalghost @donnaa @scorpio-marionette @kayleezra @amandanik23 @maxpbxtch97 @mandy-sings @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess @amneris21 @horton-hears-a-honk @xdaddysprincessxx @trickstersp8 @mswarriorbabe80 @permanentlydizzy @teddy2510 @bitchwitch1981 @jedi-in-crocs (hope it’s ok that I’m tagging you all!)

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Read Chapter 8: Out of the Woods!

#Pedro Pascal #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #prospect film #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x female reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect fanfiction #crossposted on AO3 #writer darling #are you ever dreaming of me?

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honey-minded-hivemind · 1 month

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Beast Anon back again xP I apologize for the late reply and I'm sorry to hear you were stressed. As always I would encourage you to take it easy where you can, friend :) I'm doing well, thank you for asking, and to answer your question, the reason I like those kinds of AUs and relationships isn't anything that complicated, I just...find them really wholesome ^^ With them, you're always guaranteed a certain level of fluff and slice-of-life goodness that's easy to imagine and can help get you through your day when you need that extra little bit of warmth in your day, ya'know? :D As for why I prefer it with some X-Men characters, well, I have two reasons. Firstly, with the multiverse being an extremely canon thing in Marvel, especially X-Men in this case, it makes the idea of these relationships and stories a kind of canon in themselves, and it's always so fun to explore that ^^ To explain that a little more and get into the second reason, when you're dealing with the X-Men, some of the most exciting and complex Marvel characters of all time, you know these situations are going to be more than just a daily routine, there's always going to be some twist/emotional adventure to explore along the way, and it adds a whole new depth to the situation. True, you could argue that to be the case with just about any fictional character but...c'mon, it's the X-Men! xD As for your soon-to-be recent viewing of the first two episodes of X-Men '97, I promise you a real treat, but, I am obligated to not spoil a thing ^^ Except this: OMG HANK FINALLY SAID THE THING!!! :DDDD

No worries, Beast Anon! I am glad to hear from you again, and there is no set time or need to respond immediately. What happens happens. And I finally started watching the first episode of X-Men 97 and so far, my thoughts are as follows:

• Roberto you sweet, poor child... You don't know the half of it-

• Who the f*ck is hiding Sentinel parts?! They're fr*cking HUGE, how does someone just move that around?! Someone knows something, how can you not when a single Sentinel arm is bigger than a car-!

• Go Morph! Mighty Morph-ling Power Ranger! (Well, X-Man)

• Wolverine, dude, please get over the love triangle; you and Scott were friends once, can you two get some team or friend therapy and try to talk about it for once?

• Where is the official team therapist? Nor the therapist friend, the actual certified therapist-

• Let the kids have fun!

• Roberto, they viewer-insert/new guy who is how everyone would react to the crazy shenanigans of the X-Men and Marvel

• Mr. Xavier, I am starting to believe you and Magneto really WERE more than friends, or were some form of QPR at the least

• And Magento is back! And more... oddly looking well for someone who is in their... 70s, I think? Wow. He's doing good (if you aren't counting losing his best bud and possible boyfriend, not to mention inheriting aforementioned friend's family, school, and property)

Aaaaand that is about how far I've gotten. I need to play a little catch-up😅😊

And now I really want to see Beast and Carla get together/have a secret date, watch Wolverine and Morph or Wolverine and Storm become a couple, get more Sabretooth and the Brotherhood in this show (please please please let them be brothers) (sorry fandom members who ship them, I view them platoncially!), hopefully they introduce Laura/X-23 at some point, someone let Rogue and Gambit get together, we know that is likely endgame, and yes yes yes Roberto can be Jubilee's friend (and maybe sibling?) (Whatcha wanna bet she's wanted one since the first year?)

And woo! Yes, platonic yandere genre! I get the points you've made: Platonic yandere could be canon in some way, and it's Marvel, so canon is a bag of 40+ flavor jellybeans and a 45+ flavor milkshake stand... Also, yes, X-Men add a certain flair to the platonic yandere trope. Surprise, super-poweree genetically enhanced people, and this random teen/young adult/child who they somehow procured. Que a normal Tuesday of crazy villains, more insane humans, some weird relationship issues and the break-up then make-up, and (gasp) surprise! You have been blessed with this new character to love! They're called Reader, they can be sweet at times, they are willing to use a metal bat as a weapon, and oh, and they are as addictive to y'all as catnip is to cats!

May I ask your top three favorite X-Men characters? Top three favorite heroes, and favorite villain, so four favorite characters? Do you enjoy how I write them (if I have written for them) as platonic yanderes? Do you want an older teen/adult cartoon or anime where the X-Men are platonic yandere over someone? I myself do, and I would have so manh ideas on it! Are there any duo platonic yanderes you like, where two team up over Reader or are both interested in the same one? (Ex. Rogue and Gambit, Kurt and Rogue, Wolverine and Sabretooth, etc.)

I hope you have a good night/day! I will hopefully get to the second episode of X-Men 97 tomorrow, and once the first season is finished for the series, I can add X-Men 97 to the X-Men media I will write for😊 (And if you want to discuss any if this more, I am all ears!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #xmen 97 #go beast anon go!

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seokjinnieswife007 · 9 months

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So I started WIFTY as a joke 🥹 but fr this has been the biggest comfort show I've ever been into... 🙌🏼 😩🤌🏼🤍🩷🤍🩷🤍💗🩷🤍💗🤍🩷

Such a beautiful experience my heart is so so so full ❤️🥰🫶🏼

It ticked so many things that i literally live for to see in a show.

A hschool drama 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

A group of highschool cuties who stay w e/o till the end 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

First love trope 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

I don't care bout anyone but you trope 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

I've got my eyes only on you trope 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

Grumpy × Sunshine trope 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

Greener than grass flags 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

Hschool to marriage trope 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

No drama no unnecessary dragging no shit at all 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

She fell first but he falls harder trope 🥹😭🤌🏼

Y E S 🗣️

Super Soft relationships with zero angst 🥹😭🤌🏼

A BIG BIG Y E S 🗣️

I finished WIFTY and suddenly I'm the mother of 5 fictional teenagers .

they're so dear to me so precious to me my Lil cuties my beloved my ADORABLE babies 🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

If you think i would get tired of watching chinese shows with the same plot of 4/5 teen best friends that go to high school, graduate, start dating as soon as they enter college then they enter into their " already very fluff but add more fluff into it " Era then get jobs and then get married and have children.... so let me tell you.. no.

I could literally watch a hundred of THESE shows cuz the amount of SEROTONIN I get from these is really something something 🥹✨

The butterflies I get 🥹🦋🩷💗🤍🩷💗💗🩷💗💗🤍💗🩷🩷💗🤍 they're so so so dear to me 💝🥹💕

Shows these days are hella cute and non problematic which actually makes your heart flutter 😩💗🥹🫶🏼

My Precious zai zai and rang rang. You live in my eyes and heart . Forever ♾️🥹💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗

I’ve fallen back into the romantic drama hole again. No one save me. It’s better here.

🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗🥹💗

It's heaven where i reside (in my mind)

~🕯️🧿✨🧘🏻‍♀️💌🌹🕯️💌🧘🏻‍♀️💌🕯️🌹✨🧘🏻‍♀️🌹🧿🕯️~

Manifesting my rangrang

~🕯️🧿✨🧘🏻‍♀️💌🌹🕯️💌🧘🏻‍♀️💌🕯️🌹✨🧘🏻‍♀️🌹🧿🕯️~

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maxity666 · 4 months

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Aesthetic boards of my oc :D

(TW: one of them involves what I assume is fake blood, not much but thought I'd warn either way. I will also be lightly mentioning things like death of loved ones, cult survival, grooming, bad people or morally grey people turned for the better, Mother Miranda being a bad person, and literally ALL of my OCs being some type of supernatural thing)

Ceris, my autistic mentally ill witch OC who is head over heels in love with Daniela (she is just like me fr) was taken care of by Donna but technically taken in by Mother Miranda as a young child after the gruesome death of her parents (rip)

Aurelia, my werewolf OC, shes a cult survivor along with Milo as well as a mean girl turned good (although still working on it), she and Milo had to flee before she was forced into an arranged marriage and ended up at the university, shes a perfectionistic aspiring actress, and the love interest of Cassandra

Daemnys, another child whose parents died (or did they) was taken in by Mother Miranda and was later turned into a demon because of Mother Miranda's experiments to be used as a weapon (it's a shapeshifting thing for the sake of going to school not being a problem) She eventually joins the student council by the instruction of Mother Miranda to keep an eye on Bela, but instead she falls in love lol (also she had a previous lover who was killed off by Mother Miranda for the sake of keeping her loyal)

Blain, a monster hunter on a mission to kill Vivienne because of a misunderstanding, was employed by Mother Miranda to keep an eye on Angie (yes this is a bodyguard trope except it is to keep her from being the chaos) She's asexual and had a previous lover who was killed by a demon (she originally also believed Daemnys was the one behind it)

Vivienne, is a vampire who was turned by her lover so they could spend forever together only to be left in the dust by said lover, who eventually started spiraling into evil deeds, which caused Vivienne to have to run away because of her history with said ex making people believe she was tied to it (none knows they broke up after 180 ish years apparently), not to say she was a good person, she was definitely doing pretty bad things when they were together but it was also the 1800s and a vampire girl gotta eat yk? anyways shes the love interest for Alcina and she shows up at her doorstep bleeding out cause idk shes dramatic like that ig 😒/j

Milo (trans nonbinary), Aurelia's childhood best friend, a werewolf as well. they were both from the same cult and ran away together, who was also groomed by an older man who was planning on marrying Milo. although Aurelia gives off the older sibling vibe she is the younger one (they're not biologically related but they see each other as siblings) Angie tricks them into working for Donna who they quite quickly start crushing on (its very similar to the beginning of the Donna route)

I apologize if this is messy asf, in both the pictures and writing, It's currently 2 am and I am running on nothing but sheer stubbornness and ADHD hyperfocus 😭😭😭 this is also very brief, there's way more info about them if anyone would be interested in me going into a deep dive about any of them.

reminder that I do not believe in forgiving literal murderers irl, this is purely for the sake of fiction :))

#resident lover oc #resident lover #oc dump #oc #i love making supernatural ocs #sorry if thats cringe #autism hyperfixation went hard today

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i-bring-crack · 10 months

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This is very random, but on a scale of 1 to 10 how would you rate the Solo Leveling characters in terms of hotness

Hi sorry for the long wait and long analysis post this is going to be!

Also you don't need to read all of it! It's fine! I put the pics there for a reason!

Well after this whole thing I can say that even I disagree with myself as to how I put them up on the scale, but its the best i could do. So there definetly might be disagreements bc I have to come clear about this:

I am in fact not attracted to fictional characters.

Okay it's kind of sketchy, I'm attracted to their personalities more than the whole characteristic itself because *waves hands* well I'm just not into superficial physiques. I say they are hot, sexy and stuff like it's a normal thing for me to say, and because genuinely thats what they were drawn to do but honestly it's hard for me to be attracted to some that way, much less fictional characters. And if someone else says they are hot I be like "yup yes absolutely look at them hips! Face! Princess type!" While like, not caring at all. It's why my change of hotness is also never clear. I can say I like himbos just as I can say I like petite little girls to monster fukery. And it will all be true in the end because 1)fiction and 2)the more I write about them and inmerse myself in their story the more I feel like I have a certain connection to those characters which makes me ACTUALLY like them.

So biased opinion wise: they all a 10 fr (And Antares is a hella 11 he can fuck Ashborn ra—)

Anyways !

SL Scale by Sexyness!

First though, some general rules:

I don't think I might be able to put anyone 6/10 or lower, that kinda has to do with the fact that they were all meant to look good by the artists bc, well, they wanted everyone to be engaged in the characters.

I will try to base the Sexyness meter as a heriarchy of one another: like just because I put a character on 8 doesn't mean it's an 8/10 or but rather he is less sexy than the one at 9.

10s are at the very top of character design for me while 9s are somewhat less than 10s and 8s are less than 9s, like so.

Also I can only do like 10 people sadly bc photos don't let me get past 10, so I will do like 2 people on the tens, 2 on the 9s, 2 on 8s... and so forth until the 6.

Si like:

10— Perfect gender envy

9— God they are hot

8—sexy smexy

7— more cool than sexy

6— the vanilla kind of sexy

Really sexyness is pretty hard to describe for me bc everyone fits in their own way to something as long as they are like, clean. But at the same time sexyness does vary a lot by perspective alone and attractiveness in it of itself. I'm going crazy and I probably sound too off putting with this sorry! So imma start—

First off: The Tens

They may sound like honest default but honestly they also had the best jobs done characterization-wise because of how basic yet elegant they can be. In part, something that isn't too over the top but at the same time isn't too toned down which is what makes for that personal goal of being able to look like them or project on to them. The gender envy on them is real, especially because Solo Leveling took a lot of the elements of Isekai and with it came the "bland protagonist" trope. But when it transitioned to manwha the bland protagonist suddenly turned into someone you wanted to be: someone muscular and flexible, someone that shares the same looks as normal people but makes them attractive...

Also he looks like a K pop idol, and it's already wide known just how much they love those kinds of men.

So 10 out of 10.

And then there is Cha Hae In which is more towards the attractive "waifu" love part rather than a projection to one's self— like it can be, but it does take a lot of tastes with what the target audience for SL wants, i.e blonde and somewhat curvy but still skinny. Looks tall but still not too tall, long legs, at the last chapter she has a long hair which is also pretty sought out.

Also they can both pull off a masc and fem energy which is a bonus too bc they can reach more diversed looks! Androginy for real is really awesome in characters due to all the kinds of vibes than give off without being put of by their physique or thinking that it doesn't work well. Now I do think many aren't necessarily unattractive due to not wearing clothing asking by fashion standards. I mean, anyone thirsts over characters in a maid outfit, even the butchiest of muscular men, yet the change in fashion between men and women is still quite spaced out outside of Fandom circles or just cosplay circles as a whole, which is why an androgony kind of look that can go for both kinds of gender envy is quite seen as more sexy, at least in this chart.

Nines

Forgive me for adding a minor character but honestly I think Kanae Tawata's character seems to be one of the best for me! She tends to cover a lot of differences that CHI has the opposite off [black hair-Blonde, muscular- Thin, vibrant eyes- dull calm eyes, long hair- short] and at the same time it happens to look great on her, but what brings it down a point is probably the fact that she gives off more elegance than pure sexyness. I think the most elegance that is brought over is for the hime haircut that she has, but still she could pull of a 9.5 in other kinds of hairstyles too, like her and CHI really are close in terms of sexyness. (Also she excludes more dom vibes, where as Hae In is more sub and dom vibes what a versatile bitch i swear—)

I think the same could be said for Woo Jin Chul, the same terms for sexyness do apply despite also having various differences with Jin Woo in terms of appearance, but still manages to pull off his own kind of hotness in the same way, but once again his character also falls a lot more with the elegant type, this time I think it was more intentional since for the most part the clothes he wears are suits, longer sleeved shirts, and other more covered up clothes (what a slut) than like the rest of the characters.(what are you covering up for huh? So other men can take that off you? Hoe)

The Eights

Okay so why did I put resident sexiest characters of the seires at an eight? Am I blind? (yes, sexually) am I dumb?

But in all seriousness, I put down Zhigang up a notch not because I think he's unsexy, but rather, it's because of his hair *gets shot* wait hold on! I don't mean the length of his hair at all, that actually would put him on a firm 10 if I were to pick at random, but rather because of the whole messyness of it. In different aspects it does work, like the picture above, it's not much, it works well to describe his character and it genuinely does make him look like a diva, but it's also really hard to pull it off completely good, even for the artist. There are some panels where his hair is too long that it starts to look wrong on him or makes him look like a wild anime character (which I'm sorry it's a hard no 💀) so I'm fine with him having his beautiful long hair, I'm not fine with the way it tends to just poof out a lot that it tends to give it a worse look than before. He is still sexy, but there needs to be like a defined volume withing those strands please D": It can probably work even more if he let's his hair down too, that way the strands aren't too much to bare but the effect of it is still shown. The same goes for his built, that genuinely I don't know how it changes per season from stacked to thin. It does definelty have so.ething to do with black suits as said in this post, but when paired to Jin woo in other panels they also seem to have almost the same structure, which — I thought he would be around Thomas physique rather than Jin woo's, lmao he looks like a mix of both. Still men with long hair and those kinds of eyebrows are a big bonus which is why he isn't lowered. Although irl I don't know if that kind of look would attract normal people that aren't fans of cosplays or elves so :v.

As for Esil, I don't think she could pass for a lot of the sexyness tests, she might look the type of oh sexy demon vampire! But for me she had more characteristics that make her ought to be a more cute/naive type of character than a sexy one like in the rest of media. At first I think she does have a more kind of "sexy" considering all the sharp likes in her design, like the armor and the eye marks, but legit as she changes sides and puts on the black suit, suddenly the shape gets more rounder as she wears less padding that's sharp and also the huge offers a contrast that makes her look smaller and thus more innocent in the eyes of the viewer. I think that's funny but a great key design honestly considering her personality, because her appearance WAS the major factor of why she lived, the reason that Jin woo decided to spare her life despite being very tricky and a backstabber to both him and her race. Good on her fr. But yeah she was a good design overall as someone who is "cute" because if it was made sexy it will likely look more like a female-fatale as thus probably not pass as a good figure that keeps it word to Jin Woo. Sexyness after all is often times used in media as a way to stray others rather than repent since you don't see a lot of sexy characters who tend to be insecure or ashamed of themselves and instead use that beauty to its advantage. Esil wasn't that kind of character, she never tried to seduce him, she wanted to apologize for her actions, she fought him head on, she dragged him back to her home despite being unaware of his army in his shadows. All those things were why I focused on her being more cute than sexy. Also her big round eyes are more leaning towards cute and small than the cat like eyes of say Hae In and Kanae. The purple hair is a good factor on her though, and so are the fang teeth, red marks and eyes, and the long ears often associated with vamps. Still I think I prefer Esil more than the typical sexy vampire because– well the trope reversal! She gets to be someone that doesn't use her looks to lure but to show that she is a different species likewise.

Genuine attractiveness to these two because they are quite rare designs that i like the pop of it! Lou Zhigang does give me more danmei vibes but I love Esils kind of cuteness that takes away the sexy vamp trope.

The Sevenths

Let's start with Laura and her ability to just be cool right of the bat! And I think it catches that essence more than it does for Hae In. She does still have the same characteristics as her and can pull it off, but as the rest go downwards it's hard to describe if she's that much of a sexy idol. I think they just pull off more of a cool vibe than anything. Can she wear different kinds of outfits and pull it off? Yeah, but it would also take away her whole character of who she is which is more of a professional rather than a character that one could be interested in. Her appearance is also quite common within the US so it's not quite rare or unique as it is in the case of, well say, Hae In, so withing her location it's not quite as much of a stand out as it is in other places.

I do think the sense of elegance and normalcity also applies to Goto Ryuji. For different enjoyers it's definelty a 10 but in terms of sexyness by itself it's kind hard to pintpoint for me if it will be good top 10. Like the qualities are fine, he is sexy in his own right but when it goes to pull off a casual sexy (say a pair of short sleeves, normal wear) it doesn't fit his looks well. It's just... eh? Like my favorites parts of him was when he was with the armor and the suit on rather than the loose baggy t shirt and jacket he had when he fought jin woo.

Like for these two I don't immediently think "Oh god they are sexy" but more of a "Oh they are quite good looking, yet it seems they mostly are here to act professional." It works for Laura because that her whole main characteristic, it's not being attracted to anyone (Out of the few girls that appear in Solo Leveling too she also isn't one to thrist after Jin Woo, which thank you queen, I needed that. For that you and Kanae have my respect.) And mainly looking a things through a business perspective (while also having a sentimental side with Thomas, which is nice, it's not the "assistant having a crush on boss" trope it's rather the whole female-male platonic friendship that despite being business partners still feels somewhat real when the The "get along or worry about each other, again not for any kind of unspoken feelings but because they have been together for a long time as friends and coworkers")

It also works for Ryuji because their traits where to make people be fooled by their appearance. He seemed like someone who would be level headed and professional, but in fact was really resistant to thinking of others as better than himself and was very egotistical.

The Sixths

They both feel more like they would be the kind of love interests in Doramas especially in the way the get to dress themselves. I can see that some aspects would be sexy for Lennart if his hair was more of a wavy kind of look rather than a pure straight cut. The same I would probably say about Ju Hee, her aspects make her look more like cute-special kind of girl, especially with such bright colors like the orange hair and the blue eyes. There really isn't much for me to say about them as sexy but I think a lot of their characteristics could fit the the shy cute or pastel-sweetheart esthetic fro. Romcoms. For Juhee it's a given, she is bearly in her 20s, she is somewhat of a first friend trope, naturally scared and also a healer with soft features to represent her kind nature. For Lennart it's a small comparison of a cat like eyes due to his sharp sense of sight, but blonde look to represent its European, and since he is made out to be a small force compared to Thomas Andre (when facing against the Beast Monarch) the height and blue faint one-color palettes can make a good contrast to how colorful and big Thomas can be.

Um anyways than you for reading all of that, if you did... I really did like a lot of these character designs so it got me to be like this... :"v

#cha hae in #sung jin woo #woo jin chul #kanae tawata #ashborn lmao #liu zhigang #esil radiru #the true 10a for me are Antares and Ashborn tho just for the sake of how much their designs could change and the whole ass lore that i have #for them #because see i do tend to characterize more attractiveness with character persepective rather than pure physical beauty as a whole #instead of being normal and saying chart numbers i decided i needed to analyse the fuck out of them #like really im—#goto ryuji #lennart niermann #lee ju hee #laura Solo Leveling

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