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too-deviant · 1 month

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jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist.

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

paring: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4k

content: luke is still a moody teenager, reader is still the fly he cant get rid of. does he really want to, though?

notes: these first two parts feel very introductory but it gets juicy as we dive a little further in the next parts hehe. also who do we think readers godly parent is?

PART II — and lord, she found me just in time

For a hotshot lawyer, your mom couldn’t lie for the life of her. Every time you brought it up, she’d always quip that she didn’t need to be a good liar to be a good lawyer, since all new evidence is legally required to be disclosed to both parties before they are presented in court. Therefore, there is no lying, only brief twisting of the truth. She was good at that — clearly.

“You said you didn’t want me to leave you!”

The wooden floor of Chiron’s office wasn’t the most comfortable of lounging places, but you’d accidentally kicked the radiator after tripping over a horseshoe and Mr. D — who had escorted you there when you’d asked about speaking to your mom — had just sighed and told you to use the mist currently spraying from it as a form of communication. The whole Iris Message thing was still unusual to you, but at the same time, you’d tripped over a horseshoe because the owner of the office was half-horse. Does it get weirder than that? Probably not.

You leaned back on your haunches, disbelief written all over your face at the scene you…walked in on? Called in on? Iris Messaged in on? Whatever — you were more worried about what you were looking at than the right terminology to describe it.

“Oh — sweetie!” Your mom was quick to hop down from the kitchen counter, pushing the man who had been standing between her legs away from her so forcefully he fell back into the living room.

“What was that?” You heard him ask from afar. Your mom chuckled, buttoning up her blouse.

“The answering machine.” She excused, “I completely forgot I was supposed to call back my daughter. Would you give me a minute?”

The man agreed with a huff and your mom pushed the kitchen door closed with a click before looking at you, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “I didn’t. I sure do now!”

“I’ve been gone for, like, two days!” You exclaimed, “And you’re already inviting your boyfriend over? How old are you?”

“Oh, let it go.” The woman chastised, shaking her head and attempting to push down her amused smile. “I was bored.”

“Bored.” You chuckled, “Of course.”

“But I miss you.” She said then, smiling sweetly and leaning her hip on the island, “How’s camp?”

“It’s great.” You grinned, “The people are great, the food is great. Turns out, I am super with a spear.”

“A spear, huh?” Your mom nodded, “No surprise there, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”

You hummed excitedly, the previous event long forgotten as you filled her in on your first few days at camp, “One of my friends in cabin nine offered to make me a personal one.” Your mom furrowed her brows, “Children of Hephaestus. Blacksmith guy.”

“Right.” She nodded with a click of her tongue. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” You smirked cheekily, ignoring the scoff and evil look she sent you in response.

“Alright. I best go.” She interrupted just as you went to make another comment about her guest, “I will see you at the end of summer. Okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

Truthfully, you were happy to spend the rest of the day talking to your mom — it was so hot that morning that you’d thought about sacrificing your breakfast to Apollo in hopes that he’d ease up a little. You decided against it and just sent your prayers to each of them in general, hoping maybe your dad could fess up to actually being your dad.

Clarisse had suspected you would soon join her in the Ares Cabin — something about your skills with a spear and the swift right hook you sent Chris when he made one too many comments on your form during your training session with her. You weren’t even sure why he’d been there, but you could probably fathom a guess if you judged by the looks he sent her whenever she wasn’t looking.

After the exciting discovery that yes, you were good at something, Mr. D had come by to say you could either call your mom now or never. You chose the former option, obviously, and you only regretted it slightly as you heaved yourself up from the ground — already missing the sound of her voice.

You didn’t let it linger, instead you pushed the creaky door of the Big House open as gently as you could, even though it still swung back against the wall, and nodded at the pair sitting on the porch, currently in a heated card game you couldn’t recognise. They didn’t look at you for long, Chiron muttering something about meeting the Demeter kids by the fields to test your gardening skills before putting down a card that made Mr. D grumble in his seat.

You were trudging through the grass, huffing when the longer bits tickled your legs and made you go all itchy, when you spotted a body sat by the hearth in the horseshoe of cabins. You lit up, changing course and jogging over to them, “JoJo!”

Luke looked up at you, frowning, “What?”

His curls fell over his eyes and he shook them away, only to squint at the sun that shone into them. You sidestepped, your shadow proving ample shade so he could focus on you, and you stammered a bit when his face fell into focus. He was pretty.

You let out a breathless chuckle, folding your arms, “From Horton Hears a Who.” He shows no signs of recognition, “You’ve never seen it?” Again, his face did little to answer you, so you shrugged, “Whatever. I’ll get an answer out of you one day, I’m sure. We’ve made steady progress.”

“Have we?” He hummed, picking at the worn sleeve of his hoodie.

“Of course we have, ya’ nutmegger.” You quipped with a short chuckle, grinning when his eyes snapped back to yours.

“You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”

You tutted, “Where’s the fun in that? You gotta find out.”

He huffed, “Whatever.”

Since his outburst about New England the day before, Luke had done a considerable job at avoiding you. Well, you didn’t think he was doing it on purpose — he just wasn’t obligated to spend time with you anymore now that you were cleared to roam camp on your own. You’d seen him at breakfast, perched silently on the end of the bench and staring sadly at his soggy oatmeal, but then Clarisse had whisked you off to the training fields with Chris hot on her tail and you hadn’t seen him since.

You weren’t completely sure why you were so determined to break his shell. Maybe it was because you knew he never used to be this way — that underneath the deep frowns and annoyed huffs, was a happy boy who would spend days in the sun with his teeth bared in a wide grin — and you yearned to get a peek of who Luke Castellan used to be. To bear your eyes on the side of him he kept away and to find out why he did so, to understand him on a level deeper than anyone around you did, or even deeper than you understood yourself.

Or maybe because he’s hot.

Either way, you weren’t letting him slide away that easily. No sir. You straightened your back, “Going to the gardens.”

No reply, as usual.

A huff, “Mind walking me? I don’t wanna get lost.”

He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and standing, “Fine.”

You grinned then, wide and sunny, “Great.”

You knew where the gardens were — hell, you could see them from where you stood, the two teenage sons of Dionysus chasing each other with sticks while the Demeter kids scowled at them. But you were new, and Luke was ‘the guy’ for all the new campers, so really he wasn’t allowed to say no.

You were desperate to know more about him; his favourite sport, movie, colour. Anything irrelevant that you could see in public and think: Luke. You just didn’t know where to start — he could shut down at any given moment, so which question was more fitting to ask before he built up his walls and fucked off?

You settled for something easy — something subtle that wouldn’t hint towards you asking about him. An easy question that any reasonable tour guide would have to answer.

“So, do you guys host any…mortal activities?” Looking up at him in question, brows raised as he once again made no indication that he’d even heard you speak.

But he had, “Not usually. Sometimes on weekends we’ll play volleyball on the beach, and I think Lee Fletcher has a soccer ball he kicks around but…” He shrugged, “No. Not really.”

You hummed, “You said we. Do you play volleyball?”

Nice one.

Luke stiffened a little, sort of appalled that you’d swerved the question on him so easily, but he answered with a grumble, “Not anymore.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, “Grew out of it.”

“Huh.” You said then, facing forward with a nod and continuing your trek through the long grass, occasionally reaching down to scratch your calves, “I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of baseball.”

Come on, Castellan, take the bait.

“Baseball?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, a little too excitedly for it to be a simple answer to a simple question. You lowered your volume and gave a more collected nod, “Yeah. Yes. I’ve played since I was old enough…little league.” You let out a weak chuckle, suddenly shy about the subject.

Luke nodded at you, “First base?”

“Left field.” You corrected with a proud smile, “I got legs.”

“Oh.” He replied, a little caught off guard at that. Although, he was also caught off guard when you said you played baseball.

You were debating whether or not to press when a gangly blonde boy with dark purple eyes jogged up to you and held out a wicker basket, “You’re the new kid right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting the basket to your chest, “I’m Pollux. We’re picking strawberries, c’mon, I’ll show you the best way to get ‘em.”

You weren’t sure there was a specific tactic to picking strawberries, but you stepped to follow him anyway. Turning your head to send a thankful smile to Luke for walking you down, you spotted him looking between you and Pollux with furrowed brows — then he noticed your stare and swallowed, nodding, “Uh, see you later.”

“Bye.” You replied, slightly starstruck. He walked off, but he did it slowly as if he was unsure of where to go next. You were positive he had somewhere to be — big shot counsellor and all — but as you stood, one foot in front of the other, face turned back to watch him go, he seemed to stutter in his steps at the top of the hill, deciding where to turn. His beaten converse led him west, and Pollux yelled you out of your stupor so you could help him and his brother pick strawberries.

As suspected, your strawberry-picking skills were pretty much the same as everyone else’s — really, how can one person be any better at picking strawberries than another? It’s a very simple task. Either way, Castor and Pollux didn’t envision you as their long lost sister, and the Demeter kids apparently couldn’t smell it on you that you were one of them, whatever that meant, so you were back to your search for daddy dearest — at this point, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to find out anymore. All this hassle and for what? It’s not as if he was going to attend the daddy-daughter dance with you, no matter which god he might be.

“So, do you, like, know Luke or something?”

Henry Furstatt was a Demeter kid a couple of years younger than you, who had been set the task of walking you to the lake where you would rejoin the Hermes cabin on their canoe lesson. He wasn’t very talkative until you’d put some distance between yourselves and the strawberry fields, where he posed his question.

You glanced at him with a thoughtful frown, “I mean, he’s been showing me around the past couple days, so…I guess —“

“I meant like,” He swallowed, waving his hands around, “from before. Did you know each other before you came to camp?”

“Oh.” You responded, tucking a loose hair that had fallen in front of your face away, “No. Why’d you think that?”

Henry shrugged, his loose-fitting camp shirt doing wonders to hide the movements, “Dunno. He just hasn’t talked to many people since he got back from his quest…but he’s talking to you.”

“Well.” You were suddenly a little sheepish — were you pushing Luke too much? Was your constant questioning making him uncomfortable? You were only on a mission to find out more about him because he interested you, but did you interest him, or was he ready to boot you as far as you’d fly? “He has to, doesn’t he? He’s still a counsellor, even if he does hate everyone here.”

“True.” He settled with a nod, fiddling with a daisy he’d picked while you were walking.

You breathed a content sigh when you finally stepped out of the grass — the summer blooming made it slightly unbearable to walk through, tickling at your legs the whole afternoon. The beating sun didn’t make you feel any nicer, but you just wafted your shirt a little as you walked past the Hermes cabin and towards the dock.

Camp was always noisy; something you’d grown accustomed to the longer you stayed there. You never really noticed it until you were alone, but the chatter of the kids filled the air the whole day and only really faded out when they all went to sleep. It was slightly unnerving to sit in the silence, and the loud murmurs often comforted you — made you feel less suffocated as the new kid. Less eyes on you, the better.

You were so used to the noise, in fact, that you almost completely brushed past the argument that was brewing outside the Ares cabin just a few metres away. Fortunately, Henry spotted the commotion, and pulled you to a halt in favour of staring at the ever-growing crowd.

You followed his eyeline and spotted a burly looking boy with black hair — when he moved his head and the sun hit the right spots, you could see dark red highlights swimming in his locks. You thought that was a little bit much, but you forfeited commenting on it considering the giant machaira that hung on his back.

The boy in question was sneering at someone in front of him, but the corners of his mouth were perked up in an amused smile that made you think he wasn’t angry yet, but he sure was getting there. You couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as Henry ventured closer, you were forced to follow and eventually his words reached your ears.

“—big shot golden boy finally got himself a quest and doesn’t fancy sharing the details.” He laughed, deep and low in his throat.

Henry patted someone on the shoulder, and they stepped aside to let him into the circle. You stayed behind him, watching over his head and finally checking out the opponent. Your eyes stopped on the familiar figure, and his familiar curls that hung over his eyes — eyes that were glaring daggers in the Ares kid’s direction, casting shadows over his cheekbones and making his scar look a little menacing.

The boy continued after Luke showed no signs of replying, “We get it, Castellan. You failed, but that doesn’t mean you get to gatekeep the whole thing.”

“Dean, man.” You finally noticed Chris, standing off to the side of Luke and glancing at his brother in apprehension at the boy's words. “Back off.”

Dean just snorted, “Don’t defend him, Rodriguez. We let him mope, now it’s time for him to spill the beans.” He took a step closer to Luke, “What happened on your quest?”

You had only known Luke for two days. You weren’t sure if he was the type to fly off the handle, swing before reasoning, but you suddenly became aware that neither did anyone else. Sure, these people had known him for years — but you’d heard it from enough people to know that he was a different person these days. After his quest a couple of weeks ago, people had been walking on eggshells around the boy. Maybe a month ago, he would’ve calmly walked away and let Dean simmer in his anger. But now? Nobody could be sure, but judging by the look in his eyes, darkening by the second, you might be able to fathom a guess as to what he’s going to do with his hands now that they were rolled into fists.

“I mean, is this about glory? Because you won’t exactly be sharing it — ya’ can’t share what you don’t have.” Dean let out a chortle at his own joke, looking between his friends around him and grinning with them.

Luke stepped forward. And — you couldn’t blame anyone, really. After that last comment, you were all expecting fists to be swung. It was only reasonable. Maybe the old Luke wouldn’t have done it, but this new Luke was looking increasingly more angry at the world as the days went by, so when he took one measly step forward, the crowd around him let out a collective woah! and put their hands out to stop him from lunging. Including yourself.

Only he wasn’t about to punch Dean. His hand stayed dormant at his side, the only clear movement was the single step closer he’d taken to match the one the Ares boy had made earlier. He was only really stepping forward so his next words would hit harder — that’s all it was, words. They died on his lips when he realised the implications of his actions, looking between the outstretched arms and tense faces.

He looked at Dean, “We can discuss quests when you get your own.”

Then he walked off, past the crowd that didn’t bother stopping him. Looking around, you saw the looks on their faces — shame, from assuming Luke would evoke such violence off the sparring mat. You definitely felt it, but you didn’t stick around long enough to confirm that with anyone else. Instead, you left Chris to berate Dean in place of the head counsellor and followed the boy in question as he huffed up the hill towards the edge of the woods.

“Hey!” You said, breathless (you were not an uphill climber). “Hey, Luke!”

He hesitated in his steps like he did earlier, but he didn’t turn around. His head twitched a little, like he wanted to look but was holding himself back, but you simply rounded him until you were face to face. The anger had long since dissolved from his expression, replaced with soft confusion.

“Hi.” You huffed, still recovering from that incline, “Are you okay? That guy’s a dick.”

“I know.” He replied, short as usual.

You licked your lips, still catching your breath, and nodded. He remained silent, looking around you like he was just waiting for you to leave. You decided to take the hint, muttering lowly, “Okay, sorry for bothering you.”

But his hand reached out, circling your wrist just as you passed him. You looked at Luke, raising your eyebrows, watching as he stammered on his words, “I, uh, you aren’t bothering me. I just…”

He let go of you and you stepped back to your precious spot. Behind him, the crowd had dissipated, Dean long gone. Chris remained, staring up at the pair of you on top of the hill. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression, but he seemed to hesitate before turning his back. You looked up at Luke.

“Why did you…come after me?”

You scoffed a laugh, “What? Anyone would’ve, it’s like…common decency.”

He twisted his expression, looking amused and devastated all at the same time, “But they didn’t.”

He was right; before you’d set off up the hill, everyone had just been watching him walk off. It seemed a little out of character, but then again, you didn’t know these people as well as you thought. Luke let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head, “Everyone’s sorta given up on me now that I’m…”

“Moody and depressed?” You finished, raising a single brow. You smiled at him, and it lifted into a grin when he smiled back, albeit only slightly. But you’d take it. “I just think that they’re a little unsure.”

“They’re scared, is what they are.” He said firmly, staring at the ground in mirth, “Their precious golden boy won’t clean up all of their messes anymore and they’re scared that they’ll have to start looking after themselves.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” You said, even if you didn’t believe it. How could you? You didn’t know these people, Luke did. “They’re just worried about you.”

He scoffed, finally moving his head up and meeting your eyes. He went to say something, presumably another quip about the campers, but stopped himself. Backtracked. Instead he said, “Aren’t you angry that you haven’t been claimed yet?”

That was a deep question. You sat on it for a couple of seconds, reeling at the sudden shift of conversation, until you finally let out a low puff of air and shrugged, “I don’t really know how I feel. Why? Should I be?”

“This camp, it’s —“ He huffed, “It helps you, sure. But it also forces you to…mould yourself into the perfect kid for — for a parent who doesn’t care enough to watch you grow up. Help you live, use their divine powers when a dragon is clawing your fucking face off!”

He’d stepped closer to you, unknowingly, that final shout making you wince a little at the volume. He stopped then, evening his breaths and stepping back with an apologetic expression. You brushed it off.

“A dragon clawed your face off?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled weakly, “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

You smiled at him, shamefully admiring his face. Now that he wasn’t glaring in anger, and his face was more relaxed, you could see the whites of his eyes. His lashes, unreasonably long, and his lips that were so plush you were close to asking him if he took a trip to see Dr Miami while he was on his quest.

“Gods.” You murmured under your breath, “You’re so pretty it sorta pisses me off.”

Luke laughed then — a genuine chortle that shook his chest and made passers by glance in his direction. His grin was uncharacteristically wide and for a second, a brief moment, you saw it. Luke Castellan, the one everyone looks up to. The one they turn to in times of peril, the one they giggle and gossip about under the shade of the fir trees.

Then you knew your answer to Luke’s question. No — you weren’t angry that you hadn’t been claimed. In fact, you didn’t think you’d care even if you were so long as he was smiling at you like that.

He calmed down, catching his breath, his face relaxing back into that cool expression he’s always got on. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you were sure he looked a little less tense than before. He nodded, waving a hand, “Alright, Sunny. Let’s go canoeing.”

“Sunny?” You asked, walking alongside him.

He clicked his tongue, glancing down at you, “If Apollo won’t claim you as a child of the sun, then I will.”

“Alright.” You smiled softly, looking forward so he wouldn’t see it and run off. You picked at your nails, “So long as I can call you JoJo.”

“Let’s watch that silly movie it’s from and I’ll decide if you can call me that.”

“Deal.”

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons (comment to be added/removed!)

#sunny!verse #@lia’s works #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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Are my parents and I the assholes for insinuating that my aunt and uncle's dog should be put down?

I (21F) hate one of my aunt and uncle's current dogs. They rescue old racing dogs and have done for like 15 years now. Their first two dogs I loved. First one was a bitch in both senses of the word, but she was funny and well behaved when it was important. Second one was a true gentle giant and a lovely boy. The second pair they've adopted though are a nightmare.

Alice, the current bitch they have, has suffered some form of trauma in her past. There are three years missing from her medical history and she's got some scars, so we'll never know exactly what happened but something did. She's a very nervous dog. She can be a sweetie, and they were making progress with her until they got the new one. Alice, however, does what more dominant dogs around her do, which has become a problem.

Enter Blue. Blue is genuinely dangerous. Blue snaps with no previous warning and tries to kill things. My family all know about dogs, this isn't us misreading his body language, he is giving no warning then going for the throat. He's taken a particular dislike to mum (who is usually a bit of a dog whisperer) and has got her in the hand a few times. Blue also tries to kill any dog who doesn't share his breed. We were in a restaurant, sitting outside, Blue saw a Beagle and before any of us could do anything he'd pulled my uncle backwards off of his chair and dragged him towards this poor dog. My uncle is a big man, 6" and not thin, so you can imagine the strength it took for Blue to drag him like a doll (the Beagle and owner got away DW).

I've disliked Blue for a while, but what made me actually hate him was that, when my aunt and uncle came to see us just after our own elderly dog had passed, Blue walked into our sitting room and pissed on the carpet. He's house trained and has never done this before. I think he was doing it territorially because he could smell that our dog was dead. I've never wanted to kick an animal before, but I did then and had to excuse myself before I caused a scene.

Cut to yesterday. We were in the pub having a family meal. Blue is muzzled now in public after the last restaurant incident. There was a family sitting across the room from us with a very little girl, 3 or 4 years old I'd say. She was looking at Alice and trying to get her attention from across the room. As her mum got up to take her to the toilet, the girl pointed at our table and asked to see the dogs. Her mum asked us if it was okay. My aunt agreed. The little girl came over. Alice immediately hid under the table.

My aunt was like "ooh sorry, she's shy, why don't you say hello to Blue".

Blues head pops up. The mum sees he's wearing a muzzle and tries to pull her daughter away from him but the kid was too quick and went to pat him on the head. He was super chill with it, pressed into her palm like he wanted harder pets, then with no warning growl, no tensed up body language, nothing, just lunges for the kid.

Obviously she's terrified. The mum is terrified and pulls her away. My uncle grabs hold of Blue's leash and my aunt is ineffectually going "oh no blue bad boy" over and over. My parents jumped up to help the mum and the little girl. I grabbed Alice so she couldn't start copying Blue. We all got kicked out of the pub.

We were standing on the street outside when my parents and I started laying into my aunt about how irresponsible that was. She is like "he'll never become accustomed to humans if he's locked away". Dad shouted that he doesn't get to maul someone to learn that lesson. She scoffed and said he had the muzzle. I said it takes one piece of brittle plastic before he gets put down. My aunt told us all to fuck off and stormed off in the opposite direction. My uncle took Alice from me and followed her.

My aunt made a passive aggressive series of Facebook posts about how all dogs deserve care, and how everyone lashes out when exposed to trauma, then blocked mum (only Facebook user in our house).

I don't think we're the assholes, but I know I'm very biased, because I genuinely hate that dog and would be quite happy to hear it had moved on, whether that be to a different home or the afterlife, I'm not picky.

So awta?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months

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The idea of javier and reader being a baby making factory is so 🤪🤪

Trying (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Actually! My idea of them is that they don’t do super well with their attempts at starting/expanding the family. Which is why I think that they accidentally made Sebastian; they didn’t think they were super fertile and got a lil sloppy. It has always taken a good chunk of time to get reader pregnant during the times they were actively trying but fate often has it that when you stop focusing on it, it becomes easy.

Word count: 500 words

Tags: Not explicit thoughts of infertility, trying for a bebe, soft!javi, the inherent suffering of being a person who has a womb, angst, hurt/comfort

Trying

“One line again,” you say quietly and try to hide your voice trembling as Javier leans against the bathroom sink. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh as the reality of not being lucky this time around either sets in. You shift on the toilet seat, “Really thought this was it this time.”

It’s been four months now without any luck.

“It’ll happen, baby,” he says without sounding overly optimistic. In fact, he sounds like he is in doubt, on the verge of giving up, and the tone of his voice makes you rise from your seat without a word. You twirl the pregnancy test in your hands for a brief moment before aggressively, and with exasperation, throwing it into the sink and pushing past your husband.

You start to cry the second that he cannot see you anymore. It’s big, heavy, and self-pitying tears that are accompanied by sobs as you walk into the kitchen with fast steps. You place both your palms on the counter, not caring about not having washed them yet, feeling stupid for being in this stupid house with two stupid spare bedrooms that you can’t help seeing as stupid nurseries.

Behind you, Javier says your name so softly that you heave for breath. You can only stammer your response, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Javier asks. You hear him come up behind you, so you turn to face him. Your face is tear-streaked, nose as well as mouth are puffy and red.

“The one thing my body is supposed to be good at doing and it’s not working. Probably won’t even be a good mom either,” your sniffles are filled with frustration, a fresh teardrop escaping as you tear yourself down in front of him.

“No, no, baby, no,” Javier shakes his head, tuts gently, and moves to cup your teary face. He wipes a few drops away with his thumbs, and you help by catching a few that threaten to drip off your chin, “It’ll happen. Think about how happy that’ll make us.”

“And if it doesn’t?” You know it’s a worst-case scenario, but admittedly it would be easier if people would only just talk about the struggles of getting pregnant. There is never talk about it not being a bed of roses, that it takes time for some couples. It’s always so fucking romantic and whoopsies, we’re having a baby.

“It will,” he stresses, holding your gaze while smiling gently, “Pero sí no, then we’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll have our own Olivia like Connie and Steve.”

“Okay,” you reach up to hold onto his wrists, closing your eyes to steady your mind. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he repeats, “And you’ll be the greatest momma in the world.”

You chuckle whilst still having tears in your eyes, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he chuckles too, “Now I think we need to wash your pee fingers.”

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#husband!javi #pedro pascal characters #javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #javier pena one shot #javi peña #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier peña #javi pena #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing

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gavisuntiedboot · 11 months

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Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

#gavisuntiedboot #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi imagine #pablo gavi x reader fluff #pablo gavi x y/n #gavi x yn #gavi #gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi fanfic

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spockandawe · 1 year

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Here's a big project I've been sitting on! All That You Love Will Be Carried Away, by our very own @ceruleancynic! And a box, naturally, building boxes for books continues to bring me immense joy.

What we have here is not just the main fic, or the main series, but also All That You Love (The High Hope Remix) alt pov short fic by byzantienne, and, a detail that I was really excited to include: the initial comment exchange between these two fantastic authors of m the first fic in the series. Did I title that second little book 'all that you meet cute will be carried away' as a silly placeholder? Did I then get super attached and refuse to change it? Uh-

Hell yeah, I refuse to be dignified about any of my favorite hobbies!

But the real secret delight here was that I've been looking for the right opportunity to get weird with boxes. Peller boxes, hinged slipcases, yes, fine, but those are like the box version of my sixfold book adventure. I'm still shooting for some parallel to my fourteenfold book, I'm looking for a way to go completely off the rails. I have some ideas, but it's hard, finding a good large chonk and a small number of equally sized texts, which made a unified and complete set, AND which excited me to work with. That might sound unnecessarily picky, but I swear, there was a good reason for it!

Oh baby. Oh baby.

This worked out so perfectly. I wanted a large book at the center of things. And I wanted two small books oriented in a different direction, placed end to end, at its edge. And I got it! I didn't want to commit too early, and it would have been heartbreaking to fail, but once the big book was together, and the preliminary typesets for the two little books were almost identical? I just HAD to try.

Tumblr is already silencing me and refusing to let me attach as many images as I want, so for this post, let's talk about the main book a little! Cute little quarto bricks are my new FAVORITE favorite thing, as I'm sure you can guess from my archives, and this one was a dream to put together.

It had to be a three-quarter leather binding, naturally. And I was sitting on some gorgeous iridescent maroon paper for endpapers (no photos in this set, it refuses to photograph well, as is the way of pretty iridescent things). I spent some time agonizing over my other material, and whether to use two different marbled patterns, but I went with it in the end. The vibes were distinct enough but the palettes overlapped enough that I really enjoyed the effect. And with the northcott art of marbling fabrics (my beloved) I was able to use lines of symmetry to get some nice fussy cuts for the big book and the little ones. All of the books have leather endbands, matching the spine. And the big book has the big thick faux raised bands I tried out with my last svsss! I don't have enough pictures to show off all the book interiors, but I used this cover plate for the series and main fics within it.

And then, like I showed you above, I put it all together. Marbled paper and silk moire for covering the box, a lot of very tense wrangling of glued-up paper in very small spaces, and, at one point, carefully lowering glue-covered pieces of moire bookcloth down these little pits (walls already covered) using that tab in the front like the world's awkwardest elevator shaft. But the EFFECT!

I'm very, very pleased with myself, and delighted to have delivered this book to its new home. I've been absolutely VIBRATING with a desire to share, so! I can't be contained by tumblr's image limit. Hold on for two seconds (approx.) and I'm going to reblog this post with some wip pictures and more detail about how I worked this thing out and assembled this box and modified my initial design on the fly

#crafts #bookbinding #ceruleancynic #all that you love will be carried away #box making #did i manage to photograph the main book with the foil all reflecting in decent light so it shows up properly?#please dont expect too much of me i get overexcited when i can see the finish line 😂

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silvergarnet12 · 23 days

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Splatoon was the first Nintendo game to push me out of my comfort zone of single player games, and with the closure of it's servers I wanted to draw a tribute to a game that really means a lot to me.

Some long rambles about the game under the cut.

When I first played the Global Testfire I was 15, and the only mutliplayer games I played were with friends in the same room.

Splatoon was also the first shooter I ever picked up, as I always liked bright colours over more realistic graphics in my games, and back then the only shooters I knew about were Halo(and that was only really a name to me!) and the CoD games.

Any worries I had about being bad quickly vanished as the sheer vibe of chaotic fun the game had, particularly when no one had played it before, got rid of any worries, and all I remember is having fun. And choosing to play as the guy instead of the girl for the first time, solely becuase I wanted a ponytail like in real life(I would continue to use the guy through the series as a tradition, a contrast to what I saw most people online doing).

When the game came out I binged the single player, and vividly remember the first time I fought DJ Octavio, and the first time I heard Calamari Inkantation. If ever a game was to convince me that a song could irreversibly change your life, it was Splatoon. Because to teenage me, in that moment, with Calamari Inkantation playing in the background while I fought an octupus DJ, it did.

It gave me terminal brainworms for this series. And here I am, 8 yrs later. Older and more tired, been through some shit, had some good times, tried, succeeded and failed in things throughout the years.

I've always been grateful that they made the decision for the player character from 1 to return, everytime they've shown up it's felt a bit like seeing an old friend, especially since as the games time skips have always had them close to my age(which probably helped my attachement back in the first game). So hi Three, can't believe we both probably pay taxes now.

I have the original two Inkling Amiibos, in a collection that is slowly building, I'm still attached to Marie, and yes I was on her team for the Final Splatfest.

I cried when it was over, just like I did in 2's Final Fest(I was team chaos, two for two baby!) and will probably do so for 3's as well. Something about this series just makes me super attached to it's world and characters.

So booyah Splatoon, my final online game of yours was well and truly years ago, but I replayed story mode to share you with a friend recently, and I think I'll refight Octavio tonight in honour of the good times.

You encouraged me to try out games I wouldn't have otherwise(hello Overwatch and Deep Rock Galactic), and outlasted one of the other major games of my teenage years(...Overwatch 1 I miss you). So thank you for that.

I'll miss Squid Jump, Inkstrike, the og kit for the NZap 89(why does it's new one not vibe with me ;-;), the Squid Sister's broadcasts and the more saturated colours. At least I can always return to the Plaza in 3, and that Spyke isn't dead like I was concerned he was when 3 released, and see the Squid Sisters perform during Splatfests again.

I have so much more to say in my heart about you but no more ways to word it.

You've been a fantastic game, and will always be a treasured experience that I am grateful to have been a apart of from the very beginning.

Now bring back Moray Towers in 3 damn it! It's in 2 but I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY FAVOURITE STAGE IF IT"S NOT IN 4.

#splatoon #splatoon shutdown #my art #wii u #nintendo

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fannyyann · 3 months

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Keeping up with the Florida Panthers (aka Sara Civian interviews Matthew)

EP Rinkside: What's something away from the rink that’s making you happy these days?

Matthew Tkachuk: I would say, just, I'm lucky at this time of year. Especially across the whole country, it seems like it's freezing everywhere. It's beautiful down in Florida. And we just moved into our new practice rink recently, so that's been awesome.

EP: There was a quote floating around from (head coach Paul Maurice) from before the nine-game win streak and before you started getting hot on the scoresheet. He said people are going to say “Matthew Tkachuk is back,” and he's going to say you never left. Did you see that?

MT: I did, yes.

EP: How did you feel about it, and what's your relationship with him like?

MT: Well, Paul's been a very important part of my last few years. He’s one of, if not the best, coaches that I've ever played with. He's been very important for my development, and I just think that he trusts my game, and I trust my game. I wouldn't say (the puck) was going in early, but I haven’t changed one thing, I'm still doing the exact same thing, it's just finding a little bit more success right now.

It’s been a great year for our team and as of late, it’s picking it up a little bit for myself. Hopefully, we can just keep trending into the second half of the year here.

EP: How important is that trust between a coach and a player and how is it developed?

MT: I just think that he's always given me the right leeway, but still expects me to play the right way. He knows that there's some parts of my game that (are unique) I need to maybe take a little bit more chances than the average player. He gives me full leeway to do that, but also expects me to work my butt off and to lead by example.

EP: We always talk about “buy-in,” it's kind of cliché at this point, and you guys obviously have that factor. But how does something like that start?

MT: I just think being so close to winning it all last year has made it very, very easy to come back this year and have that immediate buy-in from the guys wanting to win a championship here. So many returning guys who are so close and so upset with not finishing it off. There's a lot of motivation.

EP: Do you have a favourite moment from last season's run?

MT: I would say, probably all of the series-clinching wins, the series-winning goals. The overtime winner in Boston, the overtime winner in Toronto, the last second one at home against Carolina.

All three of those are by far the greatest goals I've ever been a part of.

EP: I feel like we're not as a society talking about Sam Bennett enough. Can you give us a little bit about what he's like off the ice and what it's like to play with him?

MT: He just plays so hard.

He was one of the first guys I met when coming to Calgary, and we've been so close ever since. I'm so happy that we got to play together again down here in Florida. He was the first guy I talked to when I got traded, and we've just been so close for eight-plus years now.

It’s so fun that we're able to play with each other still, we just have such great chemistry on and off the ice. He just plays so hard and he complements my game so well. And off the ice, we're just super close and have a great group of guys that pretty much do everything together away from the rink.

It makes it so much fun to come to the rink every day, work with them, and then when we leave the rink, do stuff together.

EP: If you became the commissioner of the league today, what's the first thing you'd change?

MT: Overtime until somebody scores. No shootouts. And no back-to-backs. I don't know if we need any more back-to-backs right now.

EP: Other than you, who has the best chirps in the league?

MT: I'd say the guy who chirps a lot on our team is Brandon Montour. He has some good ones. Nick Cousins has got some good ones. (Ryan) Lomberg, too. They all have some good ones.

EP: Best advice your dad ever gave you?

MT: Two things: Compete and be a good teammate.

EP: Last year you gained some recognition outside of the hockey world, and it kind of sparked, like, a debate about personality in the NHL. I've always wondered What you actually think about this whole conversation, like, do you like being kind of the personality guy in the NHL?

MT: Well, I’m never going to not be myself. I grew up with great parents that taught me great things and around a great family. I’ll carry that for the rest of my life. I’m not trying to do anything, and some guys are (quieter) and that’s OK. This is just how my personality is.

EP: Can you give me three words to describe the current Panthers?

MT: Oh, I would say very fast. So fast. Close – we’re a super close team. I've never seen a team like this where, you know, we're going to dinner on the road and we're having, you know, 15 people reservations and everybody hanging out with each other. it's been awesome. Fast, close, and fun. Nobody has more fun than our team.

#matthew tkachuk #FAST CLOSE AND FUN #i'm beside myself thanks #his relationship with paul makes me sooooooo #florida panthers #2324

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golbrocklovely · 6 months

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mr. fantastic // sam golbach

A/N: first off, sorry this is getting posted so late. had to make some last minute revisions. so, for this one and colby's fic later on, i need to give some slight context. basically in both of these, they are AUs were snc are corrupt ppl, or have a bit of a corruption aspect to their personalities. some of these fics are/can be seen as dark, so i totally get if you don't feel comfortable reading it. just give a good look over of the trigger warnings and see how you feel. if you do enjoy it, please lmk what you think. also this fic is very vaguely based off the boys, the tv show/comic book series. sam is a smidge (and i mean a very tiny amount) reminiscent of homelander. do with that information as you will. happy haunting!

prompt: everyone around you loves sam, or as he's commonly known as - mr. fantastic. but you can see right through his facade. but when he starts winning over your friends, you know something is going on, and it's not good. || AU!superhero!sam x fem!reader

trigger warning: SMUT, enemies-to-lovers, you used to have a crush on sam in high school and now he's a superhero, superhero!sam, corrupt!sam, twist ending, i would say a hint of dubcon (but y/n never says no or stop, but just to be on the safe side i'm letting yall know), manipulation via powers and magical handcuffs (it will make sense in the story lol), hate fucking/rough sex, unprotective sex, cursing, mentions of: babygirl, slut, good girl, my girl, baby, degrading language

word count: 6769

I couldn't stand him, or anyone else like him. Everyone praised the ground he walked on, but me? Every time I saw him, he made me sick to my stomach.

Well, maybe not sick. But I did hate seeing his dumb, stupid face.

You would think with superheroes becoming known to the public, life would get easier. Crime would go down, more criminals would be off the streets, and the overall quality of life would skyrocket. But that just wasn't factually accurate. Did you know in my city alone, the crime rate has gone up 25% since last year? And what exactly are the superheroes doing about it? Causing more destruction and chaos. I swear, bad things only truly started happening once they came out to the public all those years ago.

The only saving grace I had in my life was that I wasn't alone in my feelings towards superheroes. I had my two best friends, Macie and Rachel, and they both felt the same way I did. Especially towards the best-known superhero in our city, Mr. Fantastic. His real name was Sam Golbach, and I hated him deeply.

He and I had history, you could say. We both went to the same high school. We were both nerdy, and just overall losers. We graduated and moved away to the same city, and then a couple years ago, all of a sudden, he is shown on the news as the newest superhero to save us. It made no sense to me because I remember him from high school. He never had powers. And there's no way that he, the guy that got shoved into lockers and made fun of for being a band nerd, would have tolerated being bullied like that if his powers were super strength and flight. And not only that, but the way the news describes his upbringing: it's all a lie! They paint him to be this all-American boy. They say he was a jock and just a bit shy for most of his life until finally growing into his powers at 19. Most superheroes get their powers by 16, so that alone should be telling that something is off with him. But no. Everyone just believes the lies he tells them. And that is why I hate him.

I may also hate him because I had a huge crush on him in high school and he never gave me the time of day. But I mostly hate him for all of the superhero stuff, not the high school bullshit.

Mostly.

It was like any other normal Tuesday in our office. Our manager, Sally, would bring in donuts, George would make some comment about the week moving too slowly, and around ten o'clock we would all have to stop working to watch the daily superhero news. It was mandatory in our office, as our jobs revolved around fixing superheroes’ fuck ups.

It was almost ten, and we all sat around the flatscreen hanging in the middle of one of our bigger conference rooms, waiting for the news to begin. I glanced around, noticing that Rachel wasn't in. I furrowed my brow, leaning towards Macie.

"Have you seen Rach?" I asked.

She shrugged, "No but I talked to her last night and she seemed fine. Maybe she's just running late or is taking a half day."

I hummed, "Maybe..."

The news turned on loudly, quieting everyone in the office. I leaned back in my chair, sighing deeply. God, please let today be a normal, boring news day.

"Hello everyone, thank you all for coming out this morning," the police commissioner nodded his head, looking at the audience that had formed outside of the precinct. "As always, we like to start with the positives and then move onto the, uh, wreckage. Please hold all questions until the end of the press conference. And now, I pass the stand to Mr. Fantastic."

A bunch of people clapped in the office, some wooing lowly. I grimaced, rolling my eyes the moment he popped on screen.

"Good morning, hello. Oh no need for cheering, thank you. You're too kind," He smiled brightly, shushing the crowd politely. "First, like I always say during these press conferences, thank you for letting me protect this city. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I couldn't protect the lovely citizens of this place."

"You'd probably be working at a Burger King by now." I mumbled, getting close to Macie. She snickered, gazing back at the screen.

"So last night was eventful, like most nights here. I was able to stop two car jackings, and finally put an end to the mask thief that's been vandalizing all of the inner city's school buses. You can all be glad that today, your kids are riding on safe, clean transit." Sam pointed, giving his trademark wink and smile.

I groaned, lulling my head back in the chair. Could this day get any more boring?

"I also have some fantastic news to share with you all," He chuckled, the crowd following suit. "I saved a special young woman from a purse nabbing and possible assault last night around 2:30. Now as you all know, I know many of the people I save like to remain anonymous, but this one really wanted to let you all know how she felt. And of course, I just can't say no to any of you. So please, allow me to give her the floor." He let out another laugh, backing away from the mic. I glanced at the clock, realizing only five minutes had passed. God must have been punishing me, specifically.

Suddenly, everyone in the room gasped, Macie being the loudest. She slapped my leg, pointing at the tv. I turned and my eyes widened at the sight. Rachel, with tears welling up in her eyes, stood at the podium, smiling brightly. "Thank you all. I just wanted to say that Mr. Fantastic," she turned to him giving him a sensual gaze, "Sam, is one of the best superheroes around. This man saved my life, and I couldn't be more grateful for him. He is amazing and so handsome, and this city should be thankful to have a man like him. I love you, Sam. Thank you so much."

She reached over, giving him a huge hug. He accepted her embrace, allowing her to run her hands almost up and down his body too many times.

My mouth dropped open, unable to comprehend what I was watching. Rachel hated Sam just as much as I did. Literally last week she wished a car would fall out of the sky and squish him because he held up her commute stopping a supervillain from breaking out of the state prison. And now she was on tv, basically ready to suck his dick, because he saved her!

Macie and I looked at each other, knowing we needed to talk to Rach as soon as possible. I sent Rach a quick text, telling her to meet us at our usual lunch spot.

~~~~

My eyes narrowed at Rachel, her smile irritating me. "Please, repeat the story one more time for me."

"Okay, if I must," she giggled. "Last night I went to the corner store because I was craving some ice cream. As I was walking home, a man rushed me and stole my purse. I tried to chase after him but couldn't catch him. He ran across the street, and out of the shadows... there was Sam. He swooped in, grabbed the man, roughed him up, and got my purse back to me. God, it was seriously so hot to see him in action like that."

Rach lightly fanned herself, and I had to hold back my vomit.

"So, he saved you, gave you your purse back. And then what?" Macie questioned.

She continued, "He walked me home and... I woke up this morning knowing I had to thank him for saving my life. So on my way to work, I stopped by the police station, saw him and begged him to let me speak at the conference."

I blinked hard, "He didn't save your life. You weren't threatened. Some random dude just stole your purse."

She pouted, "Yeah, but he saved me so much hassle of having to call my credit card companies and tell them to shut everything off and having to get a new I.D.-"

I jumped in, "I get that, and I'm not trying to downplay it, but like.... last week you wanted a car to fall out of the sky on top of him."

"And the week before that we betted on the subway crushing him between the tracks during that pipe burst. What's changed?" Macie argued, taking a sip of her coffee.

"He saved me," she stated plainly, with a soft smile. "You know, I think we've been so focused on this idea of him that I think if we got to really know him, we would know he's a great guy."

"Have you forgotten that he is lying to the public about his upbringing and reputation? Or the fact any time he saves someone, there is destruction in his wake that our company has to clean up, causing our jobs to be more difficult?" I scowled at her, unable to hold back.

She rolled her eyes hard, "Oh, come off it, Y/N. The only reason you care about that is because he rejected you in high school and you're too hung up on it."

"Excuse me?" I deadpanned.

Rach crossed her arms defiantly. "You heard me. I will no longer be a part of your rain-on-Sam parade. He is an amazing man. And a great superhero."

"Even if any of that were true, you gotta admit that this 180 you're doing is weird. You fucking hated him last night." Macie argued.

"And now I want to marry him." Rach smirked.

My eyes widened, "What the fuck did you just say?"

"If you want me to be honest, I'll say it. I think he is the man of my dreams and everything I could hope for in a partner. I want him, and I hope he'll have me." She turned to Macie, almost giggling, "I slipped him my number at the conference."

"You can't be fucking serious, Rach." I groaned.

"I just know he’s great in the bedroom..." Rach thought out loud.

"Oh... so you've completely lost it. Good to know." I remarked, taking a quick sip of my coffee.

"Don't be jealous of our love. Maybe one day he'll save you too." She quipped.

I laughed sarcastically, "I would rather get crushed by a car, thanks."

~~~~

Two weeks had passed since Rach's incident with Sam. We hadn't been talking to one another all that much, just casual conversation in passing. Maybe she was right to some extent. Maybe I was holding onto this hatred for Sam just because he didn't care about my existence back when we were kids. I should let it go, and stop being such a hater.

At least, I thought that way, until this morning.

I had tunnel vision as I glared at the tv, unable to peel my eyes away as I watched the news. Another press conference. Another day of kissing Sam's ass. But this time, he again introduced another woman that wanted to thank him publicly. And this time... it was Macie.

Her spiel was the same, her mannerisms almost identical to Rach's speech. I watched, my mouth a gaped, as she thanked Sam profusely for saving her from the purse nabber. She leaned up and kissed his cheek multiple times, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt desperately.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. There's no way that this was actually happening. Something fishy was going on, and it had everything to do with Sam. I fucking knew he was trouble. I just needed to get proof.

I met with Macie alone at our usual spot. I begged her to tell me everything in detail, and her story was eerily similar to Rachel's.

"So a guy stole your purse as you left some club, Sam got it back to you, walked you home, and then you woke up today knowing you had to tell the world how great he is." I reiterated her story, annoyed.

"Exactly. He really is truly a fantastic guy." She snorted, rolling her eyes, "Oh my God, sorry. Such a bad pun."

"Yeah... that." I blinked, holding in my rage. "So, you don't happen to feel the same way as Rach, tho, right? Like... you're not in love with him?"

She thought about it for a moment, "I do think he's amazing, and I would love to be married to him... So I guess you could say yeah. I am in love. Am I blushing?"

I sighed deeply, "What exactly changed? I know he saved you, or your purse, and that's great. I'm so happy he did that. But what exactly made you wake up today and feel this need to wish to have his children?"

"I don't know. It's like... this light just switched off in my head. I just feel that deep down in my soul, I want to be his. And I really hope he'll have me." She smiled dreamily.

Hearing her say almost the exact same thing as Rach made my composure crack. "Do you hear yourself? You want to be his?! He is a douchey superhero who makes our jobs harder, and not to mention barely does anything to actually help the crime rate in this city! He got you your purse back, and all of sudden you want to... be his? You can't be serious."

She shook her head, glaring. "You know, I think Rach was right. You are jealous of the love he and I share, all because he rejected you."

"He didn't even reject me! He didn't know I existed! There's a difference," I took a breath, trying to calm down. "You don't think it's odd that all of sudden you want to have his children? You don't even want to have kids."

Macie ignored me, continuing her argument. "Either way, you come across really bitter and I hope if he comes to save you, you change your attitude. To be held in his arms would be a dream come true."

She stood up dramatically, leaving the restaurant in a huff.

~~~~

After the shitty month I had, I needed to buy some alcohol to drink my troubles away. Rach and Macie hadn't talked to me since their "savings", so work had become even more tedious and annoying. And now, it seemed like I was the only one in the office that didn't like Sam. Morale had really gone up once he saved two of our coworkers, and I had to quietly sit there, pretending I did despise the man or the situation as a whole.

As I walked home from the liquor store, I noticed how quiet the streets had become as I got closer to my apartment. It was like anyone that was out on the street moments ago disappeared. There were sirens off in the distance and the light rumble of the subway underneath the streets. The low buzz of the street light above me caught my eye, and as I looked up, the light flickered. A chill ran up my spine suddenly.

Okay, maybe I was just freaking myself out for no reason.

A body slammed into mine from behind, almost knocking me flat on the ground. A man wrestled my bag out of my hand, sprinting off down the street.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" I screamed. I began to chase after him, my speed not even remotely catching up to him.

My thoughts swirled of all the things I had in that bag. My wallet, my phone, and my key to get into my apartment. I groaned loudly, annoyed.

Where the fuck were any of the superheroes when you needed them?

The man ducked into an alleyway, a loud crash coming from there. I ran to where he was, finding him passed out in the street. His nose had blood running down it, like someone punched him. My purse was nowhere in sight.

"Are you looking for this?" A voice said from behind me.

I spun on my heels, coming face-to-face with Mr. Fantastic himself, Sam.

I opened my mouth to speak but was unable to say anything. I had so much I wanted to say, but couldn't decide on what.

"No need to be shocked, miss. I know, superheroes are a lot to take in." He smiled softly.

Hearing his voice brought me out of my stupor. "That's not why I'm shocked. You kinda just... came out of nowhere."

His face dropped, surprised by my tone. "Oh..."

We stood there awkwardly for a moment, both unsure what to say next.

He reached out, my purse in his hand. "Um, here you go, Miss...?"

"Y/N. My name is Y/N." I stated.

"What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He complimented me.

"Thanks, I guess," I mumbled. "And thank you for getting my purse back. It means a lot."

"It's all in a day's work. Or night's technically." His well-known laugh escaped his lips.

I blinked, slowly walking away from him, "Yeah.... Anyway, I gotta get back home. It's late, and I wanna get drunk."

"Oh, well, why don't I walk you home?" He asked, keeping in step with me.

"I don't think there's any need to." I argued politely.

"No, let me. It's clearly unsafe on these streets." Sam responded.

"Well, you just stopped the purse nabber... again. For the third time. Maybe this time he can finally get arrested." I smiled bitterly, trying not to sound it.

"The police have already been called and they are on their way. So, why don't I walk you home?" He stopped in front of me, looking me in the eyes genuinely. "I will be worried if I don't make sure you get there safely."

I exhaled, "...Okay, fine."

I walked home silently, not wanting to speak to Sam. He stepped in time with me, never speaking. I almost forgot he was with me, until he cleared his throat once or twice.

I pointed up at my building, pulling my keys out to go inside, "Well, we're here. Thanks for walking me home, I gotta get upstairs and get to drinking. So, goodbye."

"Wait, before you go up, can I ask you something?" He queried.

I squeezed my eyes shut, opening them again and turning back to him. "Sure, I guess."

He crossed his arms, cocking his head. "How did you know I stopped the purse nabber before? Those were such minor crimes I solved; I'm surprised anyone would remember them."

"Well, you didn't really solve the crime since clearly the man never got put away." I retorted; my voice sickeningly sweet.

Sam raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to answer his previous question.

"My friends were the two you saved." I deadpanned.

"Oh really, what a small world." He pursed his lips in thought, "Their names were... Rachel and Macie, correct?"

"Yep, them exactly." I nodded.

"They were kinda like you, in a way." He mentioned.

I furrowed my brow, "What do you mean by that?"

His tone shifted. It was no longer the public persona one he used on the news. Now, it was more... casual. Equally as snarky as mine. "They too didn't like me. Or were a little... snippy with me."

Oh, well if you wanna play like that... "Yeah, and weirdly now, they want your babies."

He faux-gasped. "What a strange turn of events."

"I guess you changed their minds. How exactly did you do that?" I glared at him, accusatory.

"My charming personality." He smirked.

"Right." I jeered.

"I mean, if you really want to know the answer, let me into your apartment," his voice was almost sultry, his eyes mischievous. "Let me have one drink with you."

I narrowed my gaze at him, blinking slowly. "You're serious."

"100%. But I mean, if you don't want to know, then I can just leave." He pointed to the street, backing away.

"No, you can come up." I felt this overwhelming sensation that I had made a grave mistake, but I continued. "But if for even a second you make me uncomfortable, I have every right to resend your invitation."

"You know I'm not a vampire, right?" Sam snickered. "I'll respect your wishes regardless, but you can't just kick me out that easily."

"Okay fine, if you don't get out of my house when I say so, I'll stab you. Got it?" I grinned crazily.

He raised an eyebrow playfully, "Feisty... Sure, I hear you loud and clear."

We walked up to my place, my eyes catching his form out of the corner of my eye. What the hell was I even doing? Why was I inviting this asshole to my apartment?

I mean, I know why. But God, I just hope this ends quickly.

I cleared my throat as we both stepped in. Sam glanced around my apartment, giving a soft whistle. "Fan-cy."

I rolled my eyes, knowing he was joking. "Well, some of us aren't government paid employees with apartments in skyrises."

"You are a very defensive person. Do you always feel like you're being attacked, or is that just your general tone with me?" He shot back.

"I guess you just bring it out of me." I popped the bottle of whiskey open, the sound reverberating as I smiled bitterly. I poured two cups, dropping a cube into both.

"You're into whiskey, huh?" He gave me a quick once over, "That's kinda sexy."

"No one asked." I raised my glass, "Cheers."

"To new beginnings." He toasted.

"Sure..." I took a long sip, the whiskey burning a little extra hard.

He let out a light cough. "Hooo, that's has a kick."

"So, are you gonna tell me how or why my friends all of sudden started liking you or not?" I asked coldly.

"You don't mess around." He chuckled.

"I only invited you up here for that reason." I replied honestly.

"It wasn't to sleep with me?" He hummed, "I'm surprised."

"I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth." I spat.

"Well, thank God I'm not." He quipped.

I placed my hands on my hips, annoyed. "So... the reason?"

Sam walked over to my living room, taking in everything. His eyes scanned my bookshelves, stopping suddenly. "Hey, how do you have this?"

I glanced up at the ceiling, hoping God could feel my glare from down here. "Have what?"

He pulled a book out, its green and white cover I knew all too well. "This yearbook. This is the school I went to, the year I graduated."

My heart dropped and I raced over to him, "Hey that's mine!"

He flew across the room easily, flipping through the book. "God, I haven't seen this in so long. But again, how did you get this?"

"Give it back to me." I demanded, stomping up to him.

"Wait a second. Is this you?" He opened up to a page with my high school portrait, little writings around it from friends of mine from back then.

I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks, making me speechless. I yanked the book out of his hands, going back to the bookshelf.

"You went to my high school. Wait, Y/N...." He gasped suddenly, "I remember you! Wow, you got a lot hotter."

"Thanks. Can't say the same for you." I grunted, hating how warm my face felt.

He spun me around, his eyes staring into mine. "Now, there's no need to lie to me."

"You don't understand personal space, do you?" I bitched, trying to push him back.

He barely moved; his eyes unchanging. "Am I not allowed to be close to you? Do I make you nervous or something?"

"No, I just hate your presence." I did my best to hide the shakiness in my voice, my body hitting the edge of my window and radiator.

"Strangely, you are the only woman that's like that." He jested, "Is it because you're hiding a crush or some-"

"No!" I cleared my throat, huffing. "No. I don't have a crush on you."

For a second it looked like he moved, his face holding back a smile. "Can you say that again for me?"

"I definitely have a crush on you." I breathed, my brain feeling like it buffered for a second. Why the fuck did I just say that?

He backed away, cocking his head. "Oh you do? Glad you could admit it."

"I wasn't admitting anything. I was just joking, and the joke is that I've had feelings for you since high school." I gasped, "What the fuck?!"

He teased, "I'm so happy you feel comfortable telling me the truth."

"Why am I saying this?" I whispered to myself.

He pointed down to my hand, "It probably has something to do with the handcuffs I put on you."

"Wha-?" I glanced down, and sure enough one of my wrists was handcuffed to the radiator by my window.

"You gotta be a bit more observant than that." He laughed sincerely, lounging on my couch.

I let out a ragged breath, pissed. "How the fuck did you-"

"Those handcuffs are really only meant to be used by me on criminals, that way they confess. But sometimes I like to use it for more..." He gazed at me longingly, "spicier reasons."

"You're a fucking creep." I hissed.

"And you're into it." He snapped.

"Yes I am." Oh my God...

He bit his lip, pleased at my answer. "So, your friends actually told me, without needing the handcuffs B-T-W, that you had a crush on me since high school. And now seeing you, I remember who you are. You were just as nerdy as me."

"Oh, at least you're admitting that now. Why, because there's no cameras around to lie to?" I sassed, pulling at the handcuffs.

"Hey, it's not a lie that I tell. I just... fib a bit." He settled into my couch, fluffing up one of the pillows, "I did play sports, so that would qualify me as a jock."

I scoffed, "Ping-pong is barely a sport."

"Says you," he grumbled. "But that can't be the only reason you hate me slash love me."

"I don't love you." I stated honestly.

"Oh, but you will," Sam uttered lowly. “You still didn't answer my question though. So, is it really just the crush bullshit?"

"No. It's not just that," I started. "You lied, not only about your upbringing. But your powers. You didn't have them in high school. You got bullied just as much as me, if not more so. If you had super strength, you would have kicked Joe's shins in."

He chuckled mockingly. "God, are you, like, obsessed with me? How do you know so much?"

"Joe bullied me too, dumbass. I'm not obsessed with you, I just don't understand you at all. And I know you're a liar. And I try to use those reasons to hide the feelings I still have," I groaned, pulling at the handcuffs more. "Jesus Christ get these handcuffs off!"

"Not yet," Sam commented. "So... you are right. I do lie, in a lot of ways, to the general public. Sometimes I throw in extra crimes I 'solved' during the night, when usually I'm just chilling at the 24-hour Taco Bell."

I gaped, "I fucking knew it!"

He sat up, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Jokes on you, it's actually the 24-hour Wendys."

"Why do you lie? People love you. There's no need to pretend." I argued.

"Ahh, but there is. I have a lot riding on me to be one of the best superheroes around." He remarked.

I hid my eye roll. "Like what?”

"You're right about one thing. I didn't have superpowers in high school. I wasn't born a superhero. When we graduated, an up-and-coming bio-tech company, Malusvir, reached out to random people asking if they wanted to be part of a study for $50k. I thought, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, might as well go see what's up. Go be a guinea pig for some money." Sam shook his head, his anger brewing, "Come to find out, they were testing out if they could grow superheroes."

"What the fuck?" I squeaked.

"I was injected a whole lot of times with... something. And while I was basically comatose for months, all of a sudden, superheroes started bursting on the scene. The government was finally letting them out of the bag, and they were allowing all heroes to sign up to become part of the Superheroes Task Force." Sam stood up, starting to pace. "When I awoke, I was one of the only ones that survived the trial run. This company ended up getting bought out by the government, and they covered it up by going bankrupt and saying they were making chemical weapons, which isn't technically wrong."

"Does the government know about you being... home grown?" I inquired.

"No. The bio-tech company used an alias for all of us, so no one found out. And the secrets disappeared with the CEO when he flew out of the country back to his home country and mysteriously died. I'm pretty sure he's just hiding. Or was killed for what he knew." He informed, his eyes almost glazing over.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I questioned, confused.

"Because no one will believe you." He replied softly, his voice taking me back. Then, he switched back into his cocky self. "So... that's my story. But back to you, how long were you into me?"

"Since junior year." I confessed.

"You liked 17-year-old me?" He winced, "Oof, now that's a choice."

"So was that haircut." I quipped lightheartedly.

He leaned towards me, whispering. "And those cargo shorts."

I snickered, and he smiled genuinely for the first time.

A silence fell over us for a moment, then he looked up at me and asked nonchalantly. "So... do you wanna fuck?"

I choked, "What?"

"Is it really that surprising of a question? You're into me, and I find you hot," his eyes snaked down my body. "Especially handcuffed."

I stammered, "I-I don't-"

"Look, if you don't want to, understandable. I am a bit of a dick. But let me put it to you this way, have sex with me and get all that anger out that you feel towards me." He stepped closer to me, teasingly. "A good hate fucking helps out everyone involved, really."

I breathed, "You're insane."

"Or, if you have sex with me, and I'm bad... you can brag to your friends that I suck." He offered.

I sucked in a deep breath, already knowing my answer. "You raise a good point there."

"So, will you let me make you feel good or no?" He wrapped an arm around me tightly, bringing his face close. Our bodies were pressed together, my heart speeding up. "Do you wanna fuck me or not?"

"Yes I do." I admitted.

"See, and I didn't have to keep the handcuffs on you for you to tell the truth." He raised up his hand showing the cuffs, smirking.

I scoffed, shoving him back. "You are such a dick."

"And you love every second of it." He taunted, back up to the couch.

"I do, I can't lie." I bit my lip, staring at his mouth.

He sat down, pulling me towards him. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Fuck me like you hate me."

I straddled his lap, grinding down on him as our mouths connected. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, a moan falling from my lips. He gripped my ass, pushing me down more onto his lap. I yanked on his hair, digging my nails into his scalp and chest.

He winced, chuckling darkly as he pulled away from our kiss. "Oh you like it rough, baby?"

"Yeah." I smirked.

"Well good," he bunched up my shirt, tearing it away from my body suddenly. The ripping fabric fell apart in his hands and he chuckled darkly. I gasped loudly, a pleasurable chill running down my spine. "Me too."

I whined, "I liked that shirt."

"I don't care." He slammed his lips back onto mine quickly, taking my breath away. He nibbled on my lip, our teeth clashing together from the intensity of the kiss. I grinded myself against his growing bulge, my wet panties pressing into my sex achingly. I hadn't even realized how hot and bothered he had made me, but I wasn't complaining. I needed this, and clearly so did he.

We removed our clothes desperately, needing each other. He sat back against my couch, gazing up at me hungrily.

"God, your body is killing me." He grunted, "Give it to me."

I settled back down onto his lap, my sex grazing his leaking cock. Our breaths stifled, hitching at the feeling of our bodies being so close and so bare. I lined up my hips, slowly taking in every inch of his dick.

Breathy moans fell from my lips, his groans almost covering up my sounds. Once he was completely inside of me, we stared into each other's eyes intensely.

He began moving his hips, his eyes never leaving mine. "How's it feel, baby? Riding the dick of someone you hate."

"I love it." I whimpered.

"Of course you do. You take me so well, babygirl." He grinned.

I grimaced, "Ew, don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want to, and you'll enjoy every second of it." He slapped my ass hard, pushing into me harder, "Won't you?"

"Yeah, I will." I laughed, moving up and down on his cock, "Fuck, you are so annoying."

His voice was raspy as he glared at me, "Oh, I am? Well, you ain't any better."

I snickered, "Nice comeback, nerd."

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. He pounded into me faster, "Nice cunt, slut. Take this dick."

"Oh my God, fuck yes Sam!" I whined.

I bounced up and down on his cock, his hips meeting with mine, making him go deeper and deeper each time. Sweat slid down our bodies, the room rising in temperature from our movements.

His lips brushed against my ear, nibbling along my neck. "Baby, baby, do you wanna know something? I forgot to tell you something."

I groaned, displeased. "Do you know how to not fucking talk?"

"But babygirl, I think this is really important. You'll want to hear it." He hummed, his thrusts stopping.

"What? What is it?" I slowed my hips, my pussy quivering around him, needing more.

He let out a breathy laugh, pushing my hair out of my face. "So, I forgot one major detail when I told you about the bio-tech company that made me the way I am."

I rolled my eyes, not interested in this conversation at all, "What did you forget to tell me?"

"Malusvir..." The lights behind Sam's eyes dimmed, his face dropping. "They weren't making superheroes."

My heart skipped a beat, my eyes fluttering, "What do you me-"

His hand wrapped around my throat quickly, squeezing tightly. My breath hitched, and Sam began to pound into me again, his hips picking back up the pace they were at once before.

"You are such a silly, dumb girl. Your friends were just as dumb as you. Maybe even dumber." His almost sinister gaze sent shivers of pleasure down my spine as his grip tightened.

I held onto his shoulders, my heart rate picking up as he made it harder to breathe. "S-Sam, fuck."

"You wanna know how I got your friends to fall in love with me?" He pressed his mouth against my ear, whispering harshly. "I fucked them. Just like I'm fucking you. All three of you were so desperate and needy for this dick. But you? God, you're so much sexier."

I shook my head, "You're fucking joking..."

"No, I'm not. And yet, even as I tell you this, you're still riding me." Sam smirked, growling, "God, aren't you pathetic? Your crush runs real deep. Just like my cock."

"Fuck you." I spat.

"Fuck you right back." He leaned in again, biting my earlobe and neck. "I could literally feel you squeeze around me when I called you pathetic. Don't pretend you don't like this."

I tried ignoring him, but he was right. My body reacted to him saying it again, throbbing around him. "How did you make them-"

"Love me? Pheromones, mostly. Thanks to all of those..." His eyes closed tightly as he got lost in thought. "Injections. Fuuuck. God, you make it hard to think sweetheart."

He had to be lying. He had to be fucking with me. "So they fucked you, and that made them fall in love with you? But Rach said-"

“I fucked them but made it so they can't tell anyone. They remember it, but will never say a word. No one would believe them anyway." He winked, releasing his hand from my neck and sliding it down my body to my clit. "Oh baby, you are in for a world of change once you come. Or once I come inside of you."

"S-Shut up Sam. Shit, fuck yeah..." I let out a breathy moan, my hips stuttering. His cock was hitting the right spot repeatedly, his thumb rubbing my clit gently, making it hard to do anything but whine. "You're just fucking with me."

"Believe what you want to, Y/N. In the end, you're gonna be mine." His lustful blue eyes bore into mine, his voice husky as he continued fucking me. "My girl to use whenever I want to. My girl that gets love drunk on my cock. Aren't you excited for that? Don't you want that? To be my little plaything forever?"

"Yeaahhh," I mewled. My eyes widened, realizing what I said. "Fuck, h-how did you-"

"It's already happening. You can't stop it now. But you don't want to, either. Take this dick more and more, slut." He gripped my hips, slamming me down onto him over and over again. My brain grew quiet, mindless. All I could think of was his leaking cock deep within me and needing him to come inside of me. I needed his come. I needed him.

"Aww, baby. You're in love, aren't you? You love me, don't you?" He mocked, a feign innocent smile on his face.

I tried shaking my head. I was not in love with him. But my body didn't listen to me anymore.

I nodded my head, unable to stop myself. My heart surged, a wave of adoration washing over me as I took in Sam's face. God, he was so handsome, even more so when he was fucking me. I cried out in pleasure, my hips bucking hastily.

He bit his lip, his head falling back against the couch. "Good girl. You're my good girl. Forever."

"Forever." I repeated, my heart soaring.

"Who's are you? Tell me." He ordered, his eyes staring into mine.

"Yours." I whined wantonly.

He sped up his actions, fucking me faster and deeper. "Say it again."

Borderline sobbing, I stuttered out, "I'mmmm youuurss."

"Again!" He yelled, rubbing my clit harder.

"I'm yours, Sam!" I panted, bouncing on his dick as fast as I could.

"That's it, baby. You're so close. Get close for me!" He shouted darkly.

I begged desperately, my body overwhelmed, "Fuck Sam, please! Let me come! I fucking need it! I need you."

"That's right babygirl." He grabbed my neck again, growling, "Fucking come! Come for me!"

I exploded in ecstasy, my brain turning off as I came the hardest I ever had before. My body took over, my hips rutting against Sam's. My nails dug into his arm and shoulder, holding onto him for dear life as I rode him through my orgasm. Suddenly, he came inside of me, his groans thundering off the walls of my apartment. His hips bucked into me with abandon, pounding me once more before dropping back down onto the couch. I felt his cum leak out of my cunt, sliding down my inner thigh. Our bodies collapsed against one another, completely spent.

As I passed out, the last thing I heard was a small whisper that escaped his lips. "Mine."

#sam golbach #sam golbach fic #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach oneshot #sam golbach one shot #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x reader #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

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upon-a-starry-night · 6 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.8

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

~~~~

After four months of texting, you’d decided Nat was officially your new best friend of all time. You wondered if she’d ever be open to the option of meeting up but considering her initial hesitancy to even text you in the first place you figured that option was faaar off of the table…at least for now anyway.

You’d grown used to texting her at least once a day, and spamming her on days she’d go silent.

You didn’t know what she did for work but you understood a lot of jobs didn’t allow you to be on your phones, although she sometimes wouldn’t even respond during the night and it made you wonder if she worked some kind of occasional night job. It only helped solidify your theory that Nat was an FBI agent- or maybe a super spy.

It would give you exponential bragging rights if you got to say your best friend was a super spy- although she’d probably have to assassinate you for spilling her secret and that would not bode well for you considering you had plans to travel the world before you died.

Still- you had to admit the two of you were getting closer, and your conversations had become a wide range of you spilling your nonsensical thoughts and Nat growing increasingly more concerned for your mental health.

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Do you think because humans are full of water the same as cucumbers that we also have the potential to become pickled?

Nat🔪:

Your brain terrifies me

Y/n🍦:

When I die I don’t want to be cremated

I want to be pickled

Nat🔪:

Wow.

That’s…concerning

How have you survived this long?

You’d screenshotted the conversation and posted it on your story, to which your mother replied with apid curiosity about who you’d been texting. After explaining to your mother about your new budding friendship (leaving out the part where Nat was a complete and total stranger -your mother would freak) she expressed how excited she was for you to finally be reaching out and finding new friends.

She also expressed her relief that there was someone else in the world willing to put up with your otherworldly intrusive thoughts. So Nat was now mother-approved, you outwardly fist pumped the air in the middle of your kitchen, 'best friend status' has been upgraded

—----

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Natalee

I have a theory

Nat🔪:

If it’s about my name I’m

just going to debunk it right now

Y/n🍦:

What if the shit-tauri from the

Battle of shitstorm didn’t die

and they actually turned into the freakishly large

rats that live on the NYC subways?

Nat🔪:

Solid theory.

Any proof?

Y/n🍦:

Oh, lots.

But ya gotta earn it

Nat🔪:

…how so?

Y/n🍦:

Truth or dare…

Nat🔪:

No.

Y/n🍦:

To THE DEATH

Nat🔪:

I’m in.

Y/n🍦:

I’m just joking.

I knew you would enjoy that part

My cynical little raincloud friend

Nat🔪:

Oh I'm yours now am I?

Y/n🍦:

The thing is- I am also almost

Certain you are a result of my delusional &

Lonely mind- thus you are My delusional imaginary friend

Since no one else can experience MY delusions :)

Nat🔪:

I’m very real Y/n.

Y/n🍦:

I believe you delusional Nat

Nat🔪:

That implies you are calling ME delusion.

Y/n🍦:

maybe you are

Maybe I’M not even real!

Nat🔪:

How much have you had to drink?

Y/n🍦:

Nothing, why?

Nat🔪:

….

Seek professional help

Y/n🍦:

You should meet my therapist I think

you’d share the same sentiments.

Nat🔪:

Your therapist wants you

to seek professional help?

Y/n🍦:

My therapist needs a therapist because of me.

Anyways- do you want to earn the rat

theory proof or are you too soft for it

Nat🔪:

I don’t think anyone has ever called me

“Soft” before

Y/n🍦:

Pfft

Okay “The Rock”

Truth or dare?

Nat🔪:

…

dare

You took a second to think of a dare, getting up from the couch to make yourself a cup of your favorite tea. As you stirred the honey into the steaming liquid you thought of what you could suggest given you knew nothing about her environment. Finally, an idea came into your head and you snickered as you quickly typed out the message.

Y/n🍦:

I dare you to wear colors

Her response was immediate, a reaction you’d begun to get used to when texting Nat, it was a far cry from the hesitant hour-apart replies she used to give you.

Nat🔪:

What is with you and judging my

Choice of attire?

Y/n🍦:

The human eye can see 10 million colors

And you choose to wear black every day.

It’s absolutely outrageous.

I will not stand for it.

Nat🔪:

Jokes on you.

*image attached*

Much to your surprise the image Nat sent consisted of her viewpoint- the camera angled downwards- to show off the dark red t-shirt that Nat was pulling out to display to you to prove that she was in fact wearing color today.

The rest of the image only consisted of her black jeans, black sneakers, and a very boring glossy black flooring- unfortunately for you, it wasn’t shiny enough to give off any reflection of your online friend's face.

However, this was the first time Nat had sent you a photo of herself- and you felt honored that she’d grown comfortable enough to show you a glimpse of her skin along with her outfit.

You beamed at the photo even after staring at it for 5 minutes- the fact that she was sharing this part of herself and also wearing color did things to your stomach.

And maybe you made a little mental note in your head that she was wearing the color you said suited her best but you weren’t going to dive into that right now.

You got up and did a little pace around your small living room, biting your thumbnail and wondering if you should comment on it before deciding you’d be more likely to get more photos the less you pointed them out.

Eventually, you sat back down on your couch, tucked your feet under you, and tried to formulate a response that didn't show how much you were internally freaking out.

Y/n🍦:

God is real.

Nat🔪:

Ha ha.

Y/n🍦:

Wow It’s not even my birthday

But this is a gift.

Truly.

Nat🔪:

You’re overdoing it.

Y/n🍦:

I’m actually crying.

Nat🔪:

Finally some good news.

Y/n🍦:

Hey!

Fuck you darth vader

Nat🔪:

these attempts at guessing

My name are getting worse

Y/n🍦:

I’m beginning to think

You frustrate me

on purpose sometimes

Nat🔪:

Everything I do is on purpose.

Y/n🍦:

I wasn’t.

You blushed at the accidental insinuation that Nat had ‘done’ you and quickly changed the subject.

Y/n🍦:

Your turn smartass

Nat🔪:

Truth or dare Y/n?

After a few rounds of the two of you going back and forth daring each other to do ridiculous shit that may or may not have led to you chugging two full gulps of hot sauce (before and after evidence was provided) and you daring Nat to flirt with a random person in her contacts (Sorry to whoever ‘very old ice cube’ was in her phone, they seemed very flustered from the screenshots you received, another thing you were excited about but didn’t comment on). After all those dares you finally received the first truth proposition of the evening

Y/n🍦:

Truth or dare?

Nat🔪:

I think I’ve had enough of your

Unhinged dares.

Truth.

Y/n🍦:

You loved them-

Okay um…

Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.

Nat didn’t respond for a while, whether she was thinking or busy you weren’t sure, you just watched as the typing bubble popped up and disappeared over and over again. You bit your thumbnail in anticipation. You thought it was an innocent enough question but the longer it took her to respond the more it felt like maybe such a simple question was more loaded than you’d anticipated

Maybe you should backtrack and ask another question…

Just as you were about to call off your previous message Nat’s response came through. It was shorter than you’d been expecting it to be after she’d taken so long.

Nat🔪:

I used to do Ballet… and there was a time when I guess I didn’t hate doing it even though I was forced to.

With a confession like that you have a feeling there’s more to it- most people were forced to do some kind of extracurricular in their youth, plenty of your coworkers were former band kids. You knew that a lot of the time though, those activities could lead to a lot of trauma, some underlying family trauma, some mommy issues, or ruined confidence but you don’t ask. It feels like she’s shared something deeply personal although it might not sound like it to most people.

And you’ll take anything new you can learn about her.

The more you learn about her the more you’re fascinated by her. Even the little crumbs of info she gives you- a film she watched the other night, her waffle topping preferences. You think if it were any other person you probably wouldn’t care that much.

But it’s Nat.

So you make a notes tab and you start keeping track of the little things she tells you about herself.

Because it’s Nat.

And fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious shit in the world.

You quickly shook your head and picked up your tea to take a sip, you weren’t going to let yourself think like that about someone you’ve never even met- and might never meet- you reminded yourself. You made a quiet noise of contemplation and shifted slightly on the couch before settling on a humorous response you hoped she understood as you acknowledging her loaded admission.

Y/n🍦:

Shit man, I used to do piano lessons

Nat sent back an unimpressed emoji and you barked out a laugh, having successfully eased whatever tension hung in the air- at least on your side.

Nat was a mystery that was slowly coming unraveled, a puzzle that revealed its pieces little by little. The more you learned about her the more you liked her.

You just wished you could really see her.

Pt.9

A/n: Y/n's personality is based on my shower thoughts~Starry

------

Taglist:

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish

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mumms-the-word · 1 month

Text

Shadow Curse Events Pt. 1

Ketheric, Selûne, Shar, and Aylin

I’ve played through the game a few times at this point and I always find myself struggling to understand the timeline or at least order of events that occurred with the Shadow Curse. I know some things conflict because there was one version of the story in Early Access (the version where Halsin accidentally killed Isobel) and it was heavily altered for the final version of the game, and some things just got *gestures vaguely* waved away, but I keep wanting to make sense of it anyway.

So that’s what this post (edit: I mean series) is going to do. After the cut, obviously. Long deep dive post ahead! Picture of a tired Ketheric for attention and because same bro c':

TLDR: These events happen either in the 1370s or the 1390s. Ketheric loses Melodia (his wife) and Isobel (his daughter) and turns to Shar. He captures Aylin, then builds a Big Dark Justiciar Army, training them and forcing them to kill Aylin over and over. Meanwhile, a Selûnite resistance is brewing in the town, and it's kind of making everything worse. One Selûnite rebel even goes so far as to make a deal with a devil. And all of that is BEFORE the Harpers and druids arrive as an army.

We don’t have dates, unfortunately, aside from knowing that the shadow curse itself was unleashed about a century ago, so “timeline” would be a loose term to use if/when I use it. But I have two theories about when it happened.

One theory is that because the Spellplague was happening between 1385-1395 DR (during which there was neither a true Weave nor a Shadow Weave, which is what the shadow curse is made of), the shadow curse likely started around 1396-1399, just shy of a full 100 years before the game’s events in 1492. But that’s just me conjecturing based on the idea that if the Shadow Weave is gone…how does the shadow curse stick around?

The other theory is that the shadow curse was unleashed sometime between 1371 and 1374. This is because a) Dark Justiciars were still being sent by Ketheric Thorm to destroy Moonhaven (the Blighted Village) in 1371 (Ketheric writes a letter about attacking Moonhave and a journal dated 1371 boasts that Ilyn Toth, the basement apothecary-necromancer dude, got killed by Dark Justiciars) and b) because Khelben Arunsun himself, the literal Blackstaff (super powerful and very old wizard), wrote a letter negotiating surrender on behalf of the Harpers.

We cannot be party to the suffering of the people of Reithwin, and indeed, of the great loss of life that this war will visit upon the Sword Coast - and, perhaps, beyond it. So it is written, and so let it be done, Khelben Arunsun, on behalf of the High Harper Council and its allies.

Wiki says Khelben broke his alliance with the Harpers in 1370 due to some disagreements, but it’s possible his splinter faction was at the battlefield with the other Harpers. I doubt he was there personally, but who knows. I wouldn’t go any earlier than 1371, though, because Baldur’s Gate II happens in 1369, and Jaheira would have been too busy dealing with those events to deal with Ketheric too. But it can’t be later than 1374, because Khelben Arunsun dies in 1374.

(I have questions about how the shadow curse survived the Spellplague and the loss of the Shadow Weave, but the answer to that could simply be All Magic Was Weird and Unstable at the time…plus Thaniel was already in the Shadowfell by this time, so the land couldn't heal.)

So it’s either 1371-1374 (because of the Khelben timeline, and I guess the Spellplague didn’t affect it) or it’s 1396-1399 (because of the Spellplague, but the writers just forgot Khelben was dead by that point, or maybe his ghost wrote the surrender notice idk). Both are good enough for Halsin and Jaheira to talk about things happening “a century ago,” but you can see why I’m avoiding dates.

But let’s push it back a few more decades. Back when Ketheric was a Selûnite and Isobel a very small child.

As we’re probably all well aware, during this time, Ketheric worships Selûne along with his wife, Melodia. At some point, he even commissions the local Mason’s Guild to build Moonrise as a testament to Selûne herself, according to Morfred the mason (who you can talk to in House of Hope, it’s pretty cool). Ketheric and Melodia have Isobel, but then Melodia dies while Isobel is still pretty young. Ketheric remains a Selûnite, mostly for Isobel’s sake, until she dies too.

Ketheric: I’ll tell you a story, True Soul. About a man who sold himself piece by piece. He had…everything. A wonderful wife. A brilliant daughter. They lived not far from here. His wife died too young. Grief tore through their home like a thief, snatching away the scent of her hair, the rustle of her skirts. But the man did not break. He could not break. His daughter needed him whole, after all. She grew up—grew strong. Challenged him. Filled his heart with such joy it supplanted all sorrow. When she was killed, the man…he tried to remain whole, but it wasn’t possible. Do you understand? Player: So the man fell to pieces. Ketheric: The pain was unbearable. All-consuming. He decided he’d do anything for reprieve. First, he sold himself to the goddess of loss. But the pain did not subside, no matter his obscene feats of devotion. Then a new god came—a god who promised the man something wonderful: his daughter. Her life returned. Imagine it. He would have to give everything: his body and soul entire. He did not hesitate. Not for a moment.

We know this story. Ketheric turns to Shar and everything goes Very, Very Badly. But the exact details/order of Ketheric's Sharran days are a little hazy. So here's what I've been able to piece together to sate my own curiosity.

While Ketheric is still a faithful (but waning) Selûnite, Dame Aylin visits as an emissary of Selûne. Moonrise/Reithwin is a Selûnite refuge and the Thorms are allegedly devout favorites of the moon goddess, so it's a big deal. While she's there, she and Isobel fall in love. Ketheric disapproves, in part because Aylin is immortal and Isobel is not (Isobel and Aylin both say this in dialogue).

Plus, and this is a personal opinion, I think Ketheric might have seen Aylin's interest in Isobel as another thing Selûne was trying to take from him. It isn't enough that Selûne let Melodia die, now her daughter is trying to woo his daughter and take her too.

But then Isobel dies. Somehow. The launch version of the game isn’t clear how. Aylin mourns but Ketheric spirals. He turns to Shar, hoping she will force him to forget about Isobel, but he doesn't. Nevertheless, he becomes a zealous Sharran.

[A journal spanning years, beginning with the birth of a child and ending with what appears to be a series of dateless tragedies.] How can she be gone? Where did she go? The Moonmaiden cannot be so unfeeling - so cruel. Not toward her most devoted servant. Not after Melodia. It makes no sense. It makes no sense. I won't survive it. That much I know. Forgetting is the only possibility. The embrace of oblivion. The reprieve of nothingness. It would not be possible for a man to survive knowing what he knows. Knowing what can be lost. Shar understands that. Hers is the only mercy I can comprehend. My mind is full of holes - yet not enough. The emptiness. The time. The nothingness. And still I remember. Still I remember it all. There is no mercy in this beating heart. There is no mercy in life at all.

He builds the Gauntlet of Shar (or maybe renovates and Shar-ifies it, maybe it was already there) beneath the Thorm mausoleum, connecting it to the much more ancient Grymforge area. Grymforge becomes a kind of base or stronghold for the Justiciar army while the Gauntlet is designed to test their mettle and prepare them for the task that will make them official Dark Justiciars—killing Aylin, though it's not clear when Ketheric and Balthazar lure her into the Shadowfell.

I'll get back to that later.

We know that Grymforge was used as a Dark Justiciar stronghold and possible training ground because of all the Sharran stuff we find there. It's like super obvious. The feasthall room, the dormitories, the weapons that lay everywhere. There's basically a whole Sharran city in the Underdark beneath and near Reithwin, some of which we can see from various points in Grymforge. In fact, if you go through the poisoned room where Nere is, you can see the Gauntlet down below.

(It's a little hard to see here 'cause I play on console but there's a glimpse of the giant Shar statue that takes up a ton of space in the Gauntlet. Somehow, the two places used to connect.)

Ketheric's new Sharran teachings are ruthless and vicious. He encourages his Dark Justiciars to kill a Selûnite once a tenday or more as part of their training and service to the Lady of Loss.

The Law of Nightfall: From the moon falls the foulest of lights. iIt peeks through cracks and fissures, illuminating the most remote recesses of the Underdark. Light bestows hope, a pernicious notion which must be extinguished. At the darkest hour, pray to your Lady and feast in Her honour. The second day after, slay a disciple of Selûne. If none may be found, a Lathanderian or Mystran are an acceptable offering. Do this once a tenday, and the Lady of Loss shall know you.

Reithwin and the surrounding village soon become a hunting ground. Most people convert. Those who don't get hung in the square as examples (according to a shadow memory). All faithful Selûnites are forced to practice their devotion to the Moonmaiden in secret, led by Morfred the mason and his brother Halfred the innkeeper of Last Light Inn. Halfred hides Selûnite relics beneath Last Light (you can still find them) while Morfred plots a true resistance.

[Hidden amidst columns detailing the income and expenditure of a tavern is an aside, written in tiny, urgent handwriting.] I have concealed the sacred relics of our revered goddess in the darkest corner of this place. Morfred, my loyal brother, seeks to forge a network of allies to stand against the oppressive reign of Ketheric Thorm. Sadly, fear has gripped the hearts of many, turning them away from our cause. I cannot truly blame them, for trepidation fills my soul as well - but I must put aside my own fears and reunite with Morfred in the bowels of the Mason's Guild. Together, we shall preserve what we can of the Moonmaiden's light, and hope that the banners of the faithful soon rise against that treacherous dog, Thorm.

But as time goes on, Morfred grows increasingly distressed with the events happening in Reithwin and the ease with which people are eager to switch faiths.

- How quickly things change. The Thorms are Selûnite through and through - or so I believed. Perhaps Ketheric only converted for Melodia, and with her death - and then his daughter's - his faith died too. But to turn to Shar? It beggars belief. - Ketheric's Justiciars are growing greater in number, and more determined to rout out any traces of Selûne in Reithwin. Why do they think this town was built? One cannot rip out the foundations of a building and expect it to remain standing. - Brother and I remain the last two bastions of Our Lady of Silver in the town. A few - the trusting few - come to worship in secret by moonlit nights. Others - converts, all. Whether they truly believe, I cannot say. Impossible, isn't it?

(Don't worry, the second page is further down lol spoilers!)

Life is not going well in Reithwin, even if you're not a Selûnite. Ketheric is determined to destroy all traces of Selûne and treason of any kind. His Dark Justiciars begin tormenting citizens to reveal pockets of Selûnite resistance. He also suffers no treasonous word against him, even if the citizens in question aren't Selûnite. We see a glimpse of this and of the Justiciars' cruel influence during the questline with He Who Was and Madeline, who ratted out her friends' innocent(?) complaints about Ketheric to some Justiciars, resulting in their brutal deaths.

Eventually Morfred realizes that the Dark Justiciars are too powerful to resist and turns to Raphael, offering his soul in exchange for something to destroy the Dark Justiciar army.

- Sick of standing idle while Justiciars gain power in our humble town. What will become of us if we allow it? I met a man who was no man. Touched by a devil. Or maybe worse. But he offered me something I couldn't refuse - help. - The time is now. Ketheric's Justiciars, their stronghold in the temple below - they will be wiped out. All of them. I didn't ask how. I just want them gone. Let the Harpers have at Ketheric now. They'll make short work of him.

You can ask Morfred about this in the House of Hope, actually, where he confirms the details. I mean, he's in Raphael's house, so it's pretty obvious the he did, in fact, make a deal with him.

Infernal Mason: When tragedy came, my master fell into darkness and despair. He marshalled a great army to ruin the world and bring all into shadow. I could not let it happen. I sought out the devil Raphael and signed an infernal pact with him. He promised to destroy my master’s army, and I promised him my soul in return. The devil was true to his word. Fiends slaughtered my master’s forces, but he endured somehow, and blighted the land.

The Fiend in question here is Yurgir, who ends up crashing through Grymforge and the Gauntlet to kill all Dark Justiciars in his path. (He misses one, because Raphael is a sneaky bastard who let one get away by turning him into a swarm of rats, but I digress.) We know Yurgir caused the destruction in Grymforge, too, because of the Merregon masks and hellbeasts we find around the area, and the fact that if you pass all the checks with the Duergar mason examining the stone, he helps you piece together this narrative:

Stonemason Kith: An ancient city, hewn from the stone by the disciples of Shar, later abandoned. Untold centuries later, a new tribe revives it. Fresh walls, fresh sculptures...until a great hellbeast charges through, toppling the walls and crushing the people! Heh - that explains the infernal plate I found. Perhaps you might have use of it.

Further proof that Grymforge and the Gauntlet were once connected...somehow.

Anyway, by the time Yurgir is called in, Morfred's already been found out. Thisobald overhears him drunkenly complaining about Ketheric in the Waning Moon and informs Ketheric of his treachery. Ketheric orders a raid on the mason's guild, leaving Halfred the lone source of Selûnite resistance. It's unknown what becomes of Halfred, but considering the fact that the inn was still taking guests (like Art Cullagh) and housing the Harpers right before the shadow curse descended (there's a shadow memory of a Harper toasting his comrades in Last Light right before the battle with Ketheric long ago), it's likely he's a victim of the curse and not Justiciar brutality.

I’m not sure which is worse, honestly.

It's unclear when Morfred dies, though he admits to witnessing the first part of the shadow curse (i.e., "...but he endured somehow, and blighted the land"). But Morfred's deal coincides in some ways with the arrival of the Harpers and druids. I think he probably makes the deal with Raphael before the Harpers officially march against Ketheric and then gets caught after he hears rumors of the Harpers.

Raphael makes good on his deal around the same the Harpers arrive, perhaps a little afterward. This means Yurgir's slaughter of Justiciars in the Underdark must happen concurrently with the battle happening topside between Ketheric's army and the Harpers/druids, meaning Ketheric is losing his army on two fronts at the same time. Victory seems assured for the Harpers and druids, but of course we know now that Ketheric had a way of cheating death already in place.

He had already imprisoned the Nightsong in a Shadowfell soul cage.

Again, we’re not sure exactly when this happens, but it’s after Isobel dies and before the shadow curse, which unleashes with Ketheric’s supposed death in the battle against the Harpers and druids. However, Aylin herself says that Ketheric and Balthazar lured her into the Shadowfell under the pretense of saving an innocent.

Dame Aylin: He and his loathsome advisor Balthazar lured me into the Shadowfell, claimed they'd found someone in need of my aid. There they trapped me in their infernal cage. I was killed, murdered, made dead, over and over and over by Justiciars of every make and kind. I was reborn, for it is my nature. And Ketheric fed upon my immortality all the while.

This makes me think that Aylin wasn’t aware of Ketheric’s conversion yet, so it must have been very soon after, because otherwise, why would she trust a known Sharran telling her to enter the Shadowfell, the realm that is entirely under Shar’s control? I also suspect Ketheric built (or renovated) the Gauntlet around Aylin after her capture, perhaps at the behest of Shar due to their collaboration in making up new Justiciar teachings, or perhaps out of a sick, vengeful desire to see Aylin tormented for daring to love his daughter.

If this is true, then there’s a very real chance that Ketheric was unkillable before he truly started to torment Reithwin town, and well before the Harpers stepped in to take him down.

Anyway we at least know that Ketheric trapped Aylin in the Shadowfell before the big battle against the Harpers because a) both Isobel and Aylin talk about her being there for a century and b) because Ketheric is already using her invulnerability to survive assassination attempts on his life prior to or during the actual battle against him and his army:

23 Elient The Harpers came too close - they poisoned Father Ketheric himself, yet he professes no ill effects. Malus insists it a fluke. Doctor he may be, but he is no less a fool for it: Father has achieved that of which I can only dream: immortality. I have long suspected. I can guess Father's purpose, but I cannot fathom the means.

This brings us to the eve of the battle itself. But this post is already hella long, so keep an eye out for part 2, all about the Harper and druid battle against Ketheric!

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

Note

thinking abt cowboy!reader now after that fic. i imagine him just being all nice and offering to do stuff without being asked and people constantly thinking he's flirting or something of the sorts and he's just like ???? what. im just treatin you right? and then i imagine he is a very horrible/reckless driver ESPECIALLY when they're running down an unsub.

Warnings: minor car accident (no one gets hurt), unsub is not a nice man, mentions of killings (super brief)

A/N: So I got this not too long ago and the words just kind flew out lmao. Also not me tempted to do a series of this because I'm falling in love with his personality aha *cries* ((I feel like the team need to meet this man's parents))

"Allow me," You gave them a smile as you jogged passed Emily and JJ, tilting your head as they walked past. You caught up with them, making sure to get the door ahead of them as well.

You watch as they both sit down, massaging their temples - presumably from stress. Without a second thought, you headed into the breakroom.

"I thought you ladies could use a drink," You give them a smile as you placed a coffee in front of each of them.

"And what about us?" Morgan asked, Spencer crossing his arms next to Derek as they both stared at you.

"If y'all wanted one, you could have asked," You smirked before you made your way back to the break room, emerging with another two cups. "I'm just toying with y'all, I couldn't carry all at once,"

You stood up when JJ and Emily walked into the room, taking your hat off for a moment in greeting. When they reached their seats, you drew the chair out for them.

"Are you flirting?" Emily asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows, reaching up and removing your hat, "What makes y'all think I'm flirting?"

"You're always offering to do things, always holding the doors open, you always bring us coffee-"

"Mama didn't raise a man who overlooks the feelings of a woman-"

"And you say stuff like that-"

Concern flicked across your face, "Am I making y'all uncomfortable?" If they didn't know any better, they would have thought you were nervous, "Because that was never my intent-"

"No, no, not at all," JJ is quick to reassure, "We just wanted to make sure that you weren't flirting,"

"I'm just treatin' y'all right," You reply, "I can tone back if y'all want,"

"That's okay, we just wanted to make sure it was friendly rather than-" Emily's cut off by JJ.

"Flirtatious."

"No, Ma'am," You respond. You made a mental note to try and limit the actions they had listed, not wanting them to feel uncomfortable.

You took a seat as the rest of the team filtered in, ready for a briefing of the case.

Fast forward a few days, the unsub was beginning to speed off down the street in his truck.

"(Y/N), you're driving," Hotch states.

"Hotch, I don't think it's smart to let (Y/N) here drive," Morgan said with a grin.

"Why not?"

"He's... not the best driver," Morgan laughed.

"I am wounded by your harsh words," You responded.

"We don't have time for this," Hotch presses, everyone into the car.

You slide into the car, driver's side. The moment the last door shut, you pressed the gas. "What the fuck?!" Spencer yelps.

"Morgan, I don't say this often, but you were right," Hotch says from the passenger seat.

You roll your eyes at the lot of them and continue to chase the unsub. Until you served (you didn't want to hit a pothole) and swerved into the unsub's car. Your eyes widened as you breaked quickly. You were the first out of the car, helping the unsub out and assessing him for injuries as Morgan clapped handcuffs on him.

"Sorry sir, I didn't actually mean to hit you with my car," You apologise, gripping your hat in your hands.

"Is he for real?" The unsub turned to Hotch in disbelief.

"Sir?"

"I killed seven people, what-"

"And I hit you with a car-"

"Why are you-?"

"What do you mean-?"

"Okay, I'm intervening because this is too painful to watch," Emily chimed, gently taking your shoulder and guiding you away from the unsub.

"I feel bad for hitting him with a car-"

"I know." Emily mumbled, sharing a look with JJ.

#cowboy reader #x male reader #x reader #reader #male reader #criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #bau x male reader #bau x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 days

Text

Unknown, Ep 11: To Grow Taller

Alright y’all, I just want to say that I am not super thrilled with how Episode 11 went. I felt like they completely obliterated the emotional build up to the change over after they did such a great job of navigating it in Episode 10.

So as much as there were some lovely images of hands, I’m not that interested in writing about it. So it is time, it is time to do the thing I should have done long ago.

It is time to write about Lili and San Pang.

Hands down my favorite part of this episode (and probably one of my favorite scenes of the series) was seeing the two of them interact, of seeing more of Lili’s inner workings, of understanding that she knows more than she lets on. I loved Yuan telling Qian that Lili is smart, and I loved the proud little smile Qian had when he heard that.

The most important scene in this episode, to me, starts with the height wall. That thing has been causing me psychic damage since episode one. It pans down to Lili. I like how long the camera lingers on her eyes. Lili has seen everything that has happened in their lives and she’s been spared from a lot of the violence, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t beared witness to it.

I was really struck by her words to San Pang:

“When we were little, Qian was always there to help us with everything we did. He would measure our height every year. I always wondered when I could grow taller than him. Then I could protect him.”

I know we have seen Lili constantly take a back seat in this story. We have seen her even acknowledge Qian’s focus on Yuan multiple times throughout the show. We don’t see her doing as much for Qian as Yuan does. She doesn’t know how to wrap up leftovers, she’s not a great cook, she doesn’t try to pay the household bills. But that’s because she loves Qian like a sister does, she’s got a secure position in the household, she’s not trying to be Qian’s partner, and it is a testament to Qian’s love for Lili that she does not know how to do some of the basic life things, because it means that she’s been so well taken care of she hasn’t been forced to learn.

There are all these little elements scattered across the series that show Qian’s love for Lili. The picture on his desk at home is of him, Yuan, and Lili at Qian’s graduation. He has the magazine she’s featured in on display. He immediately softens on his anger towards her relationship with San Pang when she asks him to go on a family vacation.

She has seen how much Qian has suffered, and she loves Qian enough to want to shield him from any more harm.

And San Pang is so lovely in this scene, with his head resting on the stair railing, a sleepy look of love on his face as he stares at Lili. I love the way San Pang smiles to himself when she tells him this. Because Qian is family to San Pang and San Pang is family to Qian. San Pang loves Qian and wants what is best for him always. And I do think there is a difference there between the soft, dreamy, comfortable expression he has when looking at the woman he loves, and the small smile that lights up his eyes at the thought of Lili loving her brother enough to want to protect him.

Lili’s face is serious, and she does not always look in San Pang’s direction when she talks:

“Even though he is a few years older than us, his hands are always covered in scars and calluses.” Lili tells the ground. It’s interesting to me to see when she is comfortable enough reviving a memory to look San Pang in the eyes because she doesn’t do so until partway through her hand cream story:

“One year, I took the hand cream my classmates gave me” she looks at San Pang “and rubbed it on his hands at midnight.”

The camera cuts to San Pang who is listening to Lili absolutely enraptured by her. And I do have to commend the show for how they have navigated Lili and San Pang’s relationship change. In very few frames, with little fanfare or flare they have made San Pang and Lili’s relationship clear, understandable, and believable. We’ve had like, two minutes of them together up through now, and all I need to believe these two will be together forever is all in the way that San Pang looks at Lili. That man is not only head over heels in love with Xiao Bao, he’s ass over tea kettle in love with her as well.

“He scolded me for it. Do you know why?”

“I do.” San Pang says with a smile. And I love that because we remember that San Pang and Qian have grown up together. San Pang has been helping take care of Qian and the rest of the family for years. You know in the way that San Pang smiles that he is remembering Qian as a young man complaining about Lili lotioning his hands in the middle of the night. Hell, I can picture Qian’s rant right now. “Because it smelled like roses.”

Lili laughs and covers her face in embarrassment. “That’s right.”

But like a lot of scenes in this show, the transition from lighthearted to more serious changes on a dime. Lili’s face slips back in to a frown as she turns over a thought. “Nobody cares about Qian.”

And this is what it feels like sometimes, with how stubborn Qian is, with how much weight he wants to carry for himself, with how much debt he owes to the likes of Le, Xiong, and San Pang. But they don’t expect repayment, they did this because they care about Qian. San Pang has helped Qian weather many many storms. He has pushed when Qian needed pushing, he has pulled when Qian needed to be held back.

“Yes, they do. We all love your brother.”

Qian has so much love in his life, if only he stopped long enough to see it. If only he let go long enough to feel it. I was not thrilled with how they fumbled so much of the emotional weight of Qian and Yuan getting together in this episode, but I am glad the show took time to highlight how much they all love Qian and to show the audience that they want to protect Qian just as much as Qian wants to protect the rest of them.

All this to say San Pang and Lili work incredibly well together as a couple, and I’m so happy that we got to have this little moment between them, both to breathe a bit more life in to their relationship and to remind us all that Yuan is right. Lili is not as naive as she seems.

All gifs by the lovely, wonderful, marvelous @wanderlust-in-my-soul. THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU ARE THE BEST <3

#this scene is so important to me #I have been severely neglecting talking about Lili and San Pang and that sin ends today #unknown #unknown the series #unknown the series ep 11 #unknown the series analysis #unknown the series meta #san pang #wei lili #xiao bao #san pang x wei lili #she loves her brother so much #she sees what he has done for her and for their family #she hoped to one day be big and strong enough to protect him #i was so close to crying about it y'all

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mirai-e-jump · 9 days

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Animage May 2024 Issue ft. Sakai Taisei x Higuchi Kouhei Interview (translation below)

Publication: April 10, 2024

A battle between the Kings and Dons?!

Everyone in King-Ohger and Donbrothers have died?! The series two most unique Super Sentai perform together in a dream collaboration! Both Reds talk about the unexpected turn of events that await in the V-Cinext!

Standing up to the danger that threatens Chikyu is Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger. Exterminating monsters born from human desires is Avataro Sentai Donbrothers. The members of these two Sentai, for one reason or another, have lost their lives, and have gathered in the Land of Death, Hakabaka!

King-Ohger VS Donbrothers, which is a crossover between "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger" and "Avataro Sentai Donbrothers," will appear on screen as a double feature with King-Ohger VS Kyoryuger.

King-Ohger is characterized by its fantastic worldview set in six kingdoms, while Donbrothers focused not only on the heroes battles, but also on everyday drama. The one thing in common with both shows, which are completely different in style, is that all of the Sentai members have really strong personalities. Even though the members clash with each other, there's no way they could get away with it if it were any other Super Sentai…

It begins with a life or death struggle set in Hakabaka! From there, what unexpected things will happen to them? We hope you'll come to the theater to see the story unfold between the Kings and Avataros, who are guided by a strange fate.

We're the "only ones" at full power!!

-The chance encounter between two major Super Sentai that "wouldn't be interesting even if you imagined it"-

"When you heard about the details of this film, what kind of story did you expect it to be?"

Sakai: I honestly had no idea what would happen if "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger" and the unique "Avataro Sentai Donbrothers" were to get involved with each other. I was looking forward to seeing how the script would turn out, and after seeing that, among other things, everyone dies, I thought it was quite an interesting story (laughs). While the setting of the story takes place on the King-Ohgers side, it was more like we had entered the world of Donbrothers, so it was exciting to film.

Higuchi: I couldn't imagine what would happen either, and thought it wouldn't be interesting even if I did try to imagine it. It's the same case with the current "Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger," but I thought that because the staff are thinking about various things and taking on new challenges, they'd produce a work that our minds couldn't imagine. When I actually read the script, it turned out to be as troublesome as ever (laughs). I once again felt that this was the quality of Donbrothers, and there were alot of lines that made me feel, "This is how I felt back then." It was both fun and nostalgic, and made me look forward to filming.

"What were your impressions of each other's team after working together this time? In particular, Gira and Tarou had alot of scenes together."

Sakai: I felt that there were quite a few similarities between them and the King-Ohger team. Kouhei told me that the Donbrothers team had gotten along well for a whole year without any major problems, and just like us, they're very close. I thought that Kouhei must've been a wonderful leader for Donbrothers. Kouhei usually has a playful image, but he's very stoic in his performance. In the scenes where we interact with each other, we were trying to match the emotion the other was feeling, so it was really fun to play.

Higuchi: Since everyone in the King-Ohger cast is alittle older than the Donbrothers cast, I felt that they gave off an extremely relaxed vibe. I got the impression that they fit the colors of King-Ohger, and that there was alot of enthusiasm among them. Also, there was a feeling of "moving forward together," and I felt that it must've been Taisei, who served as leader for a year, who created that atmosphere. Taisei's a cheerful person who's straightforward in his acting, so I think all the cast members in King-Ohger also found him very easy to work with. In the scenes where we performed together, I could feel that Taisei had been thinking alot about Gira over the past year and what he's been fighting for, and that he enjoyed playing him.

"You seemed to also enjoy talking during the photo shoot, but was there anything that brought you closer together?"

Sakai: Kouhei approached me, which was helpful since I'm not really that talkative, and thanks to him, I feel like it made things much easier.

Higuchi: But, that was because I liked Taisei's humanity and wanted to get along with him. As I started talking to him, we became as we are now.

"So you naturally hit it off."

Sakai & Higuchi: That's right.

-Looking at the dialogue and battles of our overpowered heroes-

"Higuchi-san, which character from King-Ohger interested you, and Sakai-san, which character from Donbrothers interested you?"

Higuchi: I thought all six of them were pretty cool, but…..it's still Gira. We're both Red, and I was impressed by the strong appeal of his eyes. I think there are many scenes that were captured well thanks to Gira's eyes.

Sakai: It's Don Momotaro. We're both fellow Reds, and just as I was able to do my best with the support of the people who've been with me for the past year, I feel that Kouhei experienced the same thing as he passed the baton to me, so I respect him for it. Also, Don Momotaro is simply the coolest.

Higuchi: He's cool, huh!

"Please tell us about some of the most memorable moments from filming."

Higuchi: The difference in vibe of the costumes that I felt in the scenes where we performed together was striking. The costumes in Donbrothers have a sense of realism, so when someone like Saruhara Shinichi enters the world of King-Ohger, he really looks out of place (laughs). It was interesting to feel things like the difference in flavor these two productions have.

Sakai: The scene where the King-Ohgers and Donbrothers confront each other was memorable, because while this was our first time meeting them, I felt like we were united. Also, I enjoyed the fact that Gira was able to get into situations that were very Donbrothers like.

"Sakai-san, is there anything you'd like to ask Higuchi-san, your Super Sentai senior?"

Sakai: What would it be……in our case, Kaku So-san is a very caring person who became the center of the six of us and connected us all together. I'm alittle curious on how the members of Donbrothers, who are very close, came to have the relationship they have now.

Higuchi: It probably wasn't just any guy, but everyone in Donbrothers. Everyone had a strong desire to get along with each other, and since no one was putting up any barriers, I felt like we were able to close the distance pretty quickly.

"Conversely, is there anything Higuchi-san would like to tell Sakai-san?"

Higuchi: This is speaking from personal experience, but from now on, when you go to other sets, I think you'll experience not being able to remove yourself from the role.

Sakai: Yeah, you told me about that.

Higuchi: This phenomenon happens only because you've been seriously and straightforwardly tackling the role for more than a year. Taisei, I hope that you'll move on when playing a new role, and to be conscious of, "Is this too similar to Gira?"

"Once again, please tell us some highlights of the film."

Higuchi: Transformation scenes are the real thrill of tokusatsu productions, and I personally look forward to watching their transformations after such a long time. In 10 or 20 years, we might return, but for now, this'll be the last time you'll see the Donbrothers transformation scene. I definitely want you to watch our transformation.

Sakai: As Kouhei said, I want the transformation scene to be burned into your eyes, and I hope you'll pay attention to the dialogue and struggles between our strong characters. Both King-Ohger and Donbrothers are full of characters with strong personalities. I'm also looking forward to seeing the completed footage to see what the two Super Sentai will look like when they unite.

"Finally, a message to the fans who have supported Momoi Tarou and Gira Husty."

Higuchi: I was saved by the line, "We've formed a bond," and experienced a year that made me feel the importance of bonds. The words, "We've formed a bond" also appear in this film, so please come to the movie theater to search for that "bond".

Sakai: I personally think that the character of Gira was created by Scriptwriter Takamina-san taking into account both my own personality and the opinions of the fans. In other words, I feel that this is a character and production that we've created together with everyone, and for that, I'm very grateful. Thank you for your support over the past year!! _

Q: What other heroes would you want to do a VS with?

It'd be ShinkenRed and GokaiRed. Tarou has an arrogant personality, so it'd be better for him to clash with the types of Reds who bring everyone together, as I feel like it'd create some fresh drama and make things more interesting. (-Higuchi)

It's not Sentai, but I loved "Kamen Rider Kuuga" when I was a kid, so I'd love to work together with Kuuga. He's also a stag beetle hero like Gira (laughs). (-Sakai) _

(page 116, bottom first) Encountering Warriors A highlight is the joint performances of the two major Sentai members! Pay attention to the combination of those appearing together, such as Gira and Tarou, whose common point is royalty, and Kijino, who faces off against Suzume and the lovey dovey Racules.

(bottom second) Why?! Face to Face Confrontation! Why are the King-Ohgers and Donbrothers even fighting? The differences in the members personalities are also evident in the way they fight. Don't miss a single moment of this unbelievable super battle!

(page 117, top right) Great Gathering! The Invincible Super Stars In "King-Ohger VS Kyoryuger," which will be screened at the same time, Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger will reunite with Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger, who they fought together with in episodes 32 and 33. This time, all members, including Kiriyu Daigo/KyoryuRed, played by Ryusei Ryo-san, miraculously come together. What will happen to Daigo and the others who set off in pursuit of the Uchu King Dagded? Can they restore the history of the Royal Sentai that's been changed? Don't miss the fierce battle for the fate of Chikyu and Earth!

(middle left) Golden x Golden = The Strongest! During battle, they acquire new forms, with KuwagataOhger becoming GolDon KuwagataOhger, and Don Momotaro becoming GolDon MomotaroOhger. What will their abilities be?

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Clandestine. Part Three.

It's better this way. At least, that's what you're telling yourself.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female!Roy Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - cursing. allusions to smut. angst. mention of death. quick mention of drug use.

Author's Note - it's here, you guys. part three !! thank you so much for all of the continued love on this series, it makes me so happy. there'll definitely be at least a couple more parts after this one, so don't worry!! i'm a sucker for a happy ending ;)

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Part One. Part Two. Series Masterlist.

Main Masterlist. Inbox.

"-and I know it's a fuckin' tough challenge, but I think we can do it. We've got people on our side, and I got a call from Lawrence this morning - I'm gonna see if I can convince him. So, we definitely need you in that fuckin' meeting."

Silence.

"Are you even fucking listening to me? Hello?"

"... What?"

"I said, we need you at the Board Meeting this afternoon. Kendall made me promise I'd show up with you."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Roman looks you up and down carefully, brows quirked in curiosity.

"The fuck is going on with you? You've been super weird these last couple of weeks."

That confirms your suspicions that Kendall hasn't told anyone about that day at Stewy's apartment. You were wondering if he had, nervously trying to play detective around your siblings.

"I'm just... tired. I'm fine. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Roman doesn't look convinced, but nods anyway.

"Just... you know, I, uh - I'm... I'm here. If you need me. You know that, don't you?"

You smile softly at his awful attempt at affection.

"I know, Rome. Thank you."

"Come on," he says, jumping from his chair. "We better get to that meeting early, Ken wants to talk strategy."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're sitting silently, heels kicked off, curled up in an expensive leather chair. Kendall and Roman are talking business, the complex jargon going straight over your head. You're in a world of your own, completely detached from your current reality, when you hear it.

Rome says it off hand, not thinking anything of it. You watch as Kendall flinches ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. Your throat tightens, your heart kicks up in your chest. Then, he says it again.

His name.

Stewy.

"I know if you push him the right way, Ken, Stewy is fully on board. We got him, I know we do."

Stewy.

Stewy, Stewy, Stewy.

The word plays on repeat in your mind, like a stuck record. Kendall's eyes flick to you, as if to gauge your reaction, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You haven't spoke since your argument, deciding that the silent treatment was the best course of action. You know it's torture for Kendall, but you're both stubborn. Neither of you is willing to back down first.

"Uh - yeah, yeah, I, uh, I think, maybe. I think maybe he is. I don't, uh, I don't know."

Rome is oblivious to Kendall's reluctance to speak on the subject, clearly.

"Well, can you fuckin' talk to him? You know you're like the only person in Waystar he'll listen to."

Kendall's eyes are darting between you and Roman frantically. You can read him like a book.

"Yeah, I'll, uh, sure. I'll talk to him."

You scoff under your breath, but he hears it.

"You got something to fuckin' say, Princess? Huh?"

Princess. You haven't heard that one in a while. Your childhood nickname. It started off as a sweet endearment, but now, it's thrown in your face when the boys want to get under your skin.

"Fuck you, Kendall," you bite.

"Uh... Did I miss something?"

"Fuck off, Roman," you and Ken say simultaneously.

Any other day, you'd laugh about saying the same thing at the same time. You'd joke about how in sync you are, how you share one brain. Now, it just makes you infinitely sadder.

You're about to make another sarcastic remark when Sandi and Sandy enter the room, cutting the moment short. You're not sure if you're grateful or spiteful.

One by one, the Waystar Board members file in, taking their seats at the table. You're holding your breath, sitting at the edge of your chair, waiting for the inevitable. You can predict it now, the way you're going to feel when he walks in - chest tight, lungs knotted, fists clenched.

Stewy walks in, and the opposite happens.

You exhale your held breath, and relax slightly. The tension leaves your shoulders for a moment, your lip gets released from in between your teeth. It's like seeing him has cured you, even temporarily. As if he's your own brand of medicine, your personalised prescription.

His eyes catch yours, and you have a silent conversation. So much is said in such a short time.

Hi. Hi. Are you okay? No, are you? No. Not at all.

The room is oblivious to this emotional exchange - except for your older brother. Kendall watches your every move like a hawk. He's trying to figure out if the two of you are still together, still sneaking around behind his back. You haven't spoken to him since he stormed out of Stewy's apartment, meaning he has no idea about the events that occurred after his departure.

The meeting goes off as usual, full of tension and sniped remarks. You don't listen to a word anyone says, too focused on keeping your attention away from Stewy across the table. You're determined not to look at him. You know that if you do, he'll see right through you. He'll know how you really feel. And that is something you're not at all prepared for.

"Okay, well, if no one else has anything they'd like to cover, I think we're done here. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone rises from their places, shaking hands and having quick discussions before leaving through the tall glass doors. You stay put, in no rush to exit. Kendall approaches Stewy, and you watch the exchange with a clenched jaw.

"Hey, uh... can we, like, talk, maybe? I think, yeah, I think we should talk."

Stewy takes a long, hard look at Kendall, before chuckling humourlessly.

"I've got nothing to say to you, man."

Your brother stays stuck in his place, staring at the floor beneath him. As Stewy leaves, he can't resist running his fingers across your shoulders gently. You look back at him, but he's already gone.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.

Everywhere you look, you're reminded of Stewy.

You're in the kitchen, and all you can think about is the time the two of you slow danced in the middle of the night, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor. There's a half finished bottle of wine on the counter, abandoned in favour of gliding around the room in your socks. Stewy clicks on some low, jazzy music, and pulls you into his arms. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bathroom, and you can't stop thinking about when the two of you took a bubble bath together, lavender scented steam filling the air. Your back is pressed to Stewy's chest, sitting in between his legs as he massages the shampoo into your hair. He's humming softly, a song his Mother used to sing when he was a child. There's not an ounce of tension in either of your bodies. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the living room, and you can't avoid the memories of curling up with Stewy on the couch. He always lets you pick the movie - sarcastically rolling his eyes at your choices, but never protesting. You sit there for hours, bodies tangled together like two pieces of the same puzzle. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bedroom, and you can't stop picturing the way that Stewy would take you apart and put you back together again. Before him, all of the sex you had was quick, transactional, impersonal. But it was different with Stewy. With Stewy, it felt like you had all the time in the world. It was tender, loving, connected. He genuinely cared about your pleasure - learning your body inch by inch, memorising it like a sculptor. You allowed yourself, for the first time ever, to let go. You put your soul in his hands with full faith. Lying there, limbs intertwined beneath the soft sheets, there was no doubt in your mind. You belonged somewhere.

And now that safe place is gone.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore, and it's all because of him. You could move at the drop of a hat, find a new apartment tomorrow if you wanted. But you can't. You can't leave all of these memories behind. As painful as they are, they're all you have.

You turn on the TV, and flick to ATN News. They're running a story on a young baseball player that tragically died in a car wreck, aged twenty four. You sit and watch the whole segment, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. When it ends, you turn it off, and sit in silence.

You sit there for hours, in the quiet, just thinking. About everything. The number twenty four keeps circling around in your head.

He was twenty four. Twenty four years old. He hadn't even got to live properly. Life is so short. Life is so unpredictable. God, anything could happen tomorrow. Twenty four. Twenty four. Twenty four.

You glance towards the clock on the wall, which reads 10:24. It feels like a sign.

All of a sudden, you're sick of waiting. Sick of being told how to live your life. Sick of trying to conform to these ideals that people are placing on you. Fuck them. Life's too short. You have to start living for you.

You're pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys before you can even process it. You call the number for a car, but no one answers. Fuck it, you'll run across New York City if you have to. If it means you get to hold the man you love in your arms again.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The knocking on the door is so loud, Stewy's half convinced he's about to be murdered. He swings open the heavy oak to be met with the sight of you, looking like you just ran a marathon.

You stand still for a moment, staring at each other, as if you can't believe what you're seeing. You're here, in each others vicinity again. It'd be so easy to reach out and touch him.

So, you do.

You barrel into Stewy, jumping into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. He catches you easily, holding onto you as tight as he possibly can. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself even closer, as if to merge both of your bodies into one being.

You breathe him in, and it's the first time you've taken a full breath in weeks. He smells the same as he always did, musky and woody and expensive and yours. He still smells like he's yours.

You don't realise you're crying until you pull away from him slightly, and see the wet spot on his t shirt. He puts you down and closes the door, locking it behind you. He grabs your hand and leads you into the kitchen, parting from you to pour two glasses of wine.

You jump up onto the counter and part your legs, Stewy coming to stand between them instinctively. He places a hand on each of your thighs, warmth seeping through his palms. You're face to face, unsure where to start.

"Baby," he breathes. "What are you doing here?"

He sounds unsure, almost scared. If only you knew how frantically his heart is beating in his chest.

"Life is too short," you reply quickly. "Way too short. I could literally die tomorrow."

Stewy looks at you carefully, brow quirked in confusion.

"Honey, are you on drugs? Because they're really not good for you, you know."

"Says the man who did coke off my ass last month," you tease defiantly.

He fights back a smile, but it curls at the corner of his mouth. You grin at him, hands moving to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I'm not on drugs," you reassure. "I was just watching the news, and it kinda put everything into perspective. Life is so short and so fragile. Why am I wasting mine trying to appease my family, who'll never be happy, no matter what I do?"

He smiles at you softly, nodding as you continue.

"I just - my whole life, my brothers have just done whatever the fuck they wanted. Especially Kendall. But I make a choice for me, and all of a sudden I'm the villain? How is that fair?"

"It isn't," he agrees, squeezing your thighs in reassurance. "They're all hypocrites. Do you know how many stupid decisions I've watched Kendall make over the years? They think they know everything, but they don't."

"I mean, look at them. Roman is incapable of affection, Kendall's ex wife hates him, and Connor practically bought Willa. My Dad's on his second wife, not including the countless mistresses he's had. None of them know anything about love. They don't know a thing."

"I think you're the only person in your family capable of love," he chuckles.

"I'm starting to think you might be right," you laugh.

You lean forward and press your forehead to Stewy's, exhaling the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm really sorry," you whisper. "For everything. I treated you horribly, and none of it was your fault."

"It wasn't your fault, either. You know that, right?"

"I don't know. It's so hard to get a view on things when they're happening. But when I took a step back, it gave me a clearer look. And it made me realise something."

"And what's that?" he murmurs.

"I realised that I cannot live a day without you, Stewy Hosseini. I don't want to."

"Thank God," he breathes in a laugh. "I've been going fucking crazy here without you."

You beam a grin at him, so bright it's a wonder that the lights don't shatter.

"I love you, and I won't apologise for it," you confess. "Whatever the consequences are, I'll accept them. Nothing can touch me when I'm loved by you. You're like my own personal armour."

"Man, we're the worst," he laughs. "We could love anyone in the world, and we just had to choose each other."

"I'm gonna choose you everyday, I'm afraid," you tease. "There's no going back now."

"I wouldn't want to," he murmurs. "I don't want to go back."

"Me neither," you whisper against his mouth.

Stewy leans forward and captures your lips with his, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You get completely lost in each other, revelling in the feeling of being back together. You feel like you can finally breathe again. The other half of your heart has returned.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you are tangled among the sheets, limbs intertwined and hands linked. You run your fingertips in mindless patterns over his chest, the sprinkling of hair tickling you, making you smile gently. Stewy's playing with your hair, soothing you softly. His heartbeat is lulling you into tranquility, relaxing you completely. This is paradise, you're convinced. Paradise.

"It can be like this forever, you know," he murmurs into the top of your head, kissing you tenderly.

"I know," you reassure. "And it will be."

Stewy can't stop thinking about the diamond ring still sitting in his nightstand. After your fight, he thought he'd never get to see you wear it. But now he knows he will. And that makes his heart flutter uncontrollably in his ribcage, like technicolour butterflies trying to escape him.

He pulls you impossibly closer, trying to breathe you in. He never wants to let you go. You don't want him to.

"We should tell them," you say suddenly. "Fuck the consequences."

"Are you sure, honey?"

You sit up in bed, looking at him carefully. His hair is mussed, shoulders relaxed, lip bitten between his teeth. He's never looked more beautiful.

"I'm sure. I wasn't, before. I think that's why I tried to push you away - I was trying to force myself into doing something I wasn't ready for. But almost losing you has made me realise that you're it for me, Stewy. You are my first and only choice. You are the only thing I'm sure of."

Stewy's chest swells with emotion, throat tightening, eyes welling. He's determined not to cry, but fuck, he's close.

"Do you know how many times I've dreamt of you saying those words to me?" he chokes out. "I love you. Fuck, I love you so much it makes me ache."

"I love you," you whisper back, cradling his face in your gentle hands. "I love you. I'm never letting you go again. Not ever."

You kiss him softly, basking in the feeling of his lips on yours. You get lost in each other once again, both of you in disbelief at being back in each others arms.

"Let's tell them," you whisper against his mouth. "Fuck the consequences."

"Fuck the consequences," he grins. "It's you and me, baby. You and me against the world."

You feel as if you're floating, levitating, powered by the sheer force of your love. Nothing can touch you. You're invincible, when you're in Stewy's arms.

He knows this is it. This is the moment. He makes his decision, and reaches his arm out to open the top drawer of this nightstand. His pulse quickens, body practically vibrating with anticipation. As he pulls it open, your phone rings, the shrill tone piercing through your peace.

You go to decline it, but notice that it's Connor's name lighting up your screen. There's a weird feeling in your stomach, suddenly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart. It's Connor. Where are you?"

You cast a glance towards Stewy, and he shakes his head softly, silently communicating. Not yet. We'll tell him in person.

"I'm at a friend's place. What's up?"

"I, uh, I don't... I don't really know how to, um... you need to come to Dad's apartment, ASAP."

"Wait, what? Why?"

There are a million scenarios swirling around in your head, clouding your mind, overwhelming you.

"He's, uh.. I just, um, I don't-"

"Spit it out, Con."

A pause. He takes a deep breath.

"Dad's dead."

Silence.

Your heart breaks. Stewy hears it happen.

Stewy Tag List

@justacaliforniandreamer @616wilsons @shawty-writes-a-little @isuspectitwasthenargles @thinemineours @buckysbae @jolie989 @allcheesemelts

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