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artist-issues · 2 months ago

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Sounds like Moana 2 felt like the rushed tv movie it was supposed to be.

THIS IS THE MOANA 2 CRITIQUE POST

I'm tired of excusing things with the word "rushed." If you have less time to produce, you should simplify what you're trying to say. That way, all your small amount of time can be spent on carefully building the best way to say it. Moana 2 felt very unfocused. It felt like it was trying to say:

"You Can’t Survive in Isolation" (but like why not? why do they need their neighboring islands? Don’t make up a reason—tell me the reason the movie showed you.)

"There's Always Another Way” (what? As opposed to what? One way? What One Way was Moana demonstrably sticking to before the not-really-villainess sang her song? Wasn’t finding that One Way ((“learning where to go by remembering who you are/where you’ve been”)) the whole point of the first movie? Now we’re throwing that out the window?)

"Together But a Little Different" ("Different" as in 'In-New-Circumstances' not "Different" as in 'We’re-Different-So-It’s-Hard-to-Relate-to-One-Another,’ which would've been the better, more cohesive sense of ‘Different’.)

“Something-Something Stories Are Important” (literally they just substitute the phrase “we’ll die” with “our story will end.” No mention of why that’s bad, or what makes a story a story, no reason why stories are important, or what for, just throwing the word “story” around vaguely.)

And none of those "themes" I listed just now had a lot of work put into them. That’s it, in a nutshell. But I can flesh-out my argument for those, and present what I think they could’ve easily done differently, if they’d just picked one and worked hard to make it simply good. SPOILERS BELOW.

“You Can’t Survive in Isolation”

We're told in a quick vision that Moana's people will die if they stay in isolation—but there's no showing us that.

In fact, what we've been shown is that they're thriving, they're fine by themselves. They were in the first movie. They are at the beginning of the second.

So we're not convinced that they need what the whole adventure is supposedly about. Compare that to the first movie! Totally doesn't measure up to the storytelling quality!

In the first movie, the whole first act sets up the idea of darkness reaching through the ocean from Tefiti's missing heart, killing everything. That’s especially bad for Moana’s people. We know that because we’re shown how Moana's people are so deeply connected to the ecosystem of their island, and how every part of it is needed for their way of life to continue—then were also shown that Moana has a deep, personal longing to leave the island. There’s a real connection to home and an urgent need to leave it, and that creates really good emotional tension.

So by the time we're shown (not told in one scene, or through snatches of overdone dialogue, but shown) how the darkness will destroy everything if she doesn't go, we really believe it. We have lots of reasons to empathize with and believe in Moana’s reason for going on this mission. We also feel for her having to make the big decision; we’ve been shown that she’s trying to live up to her responsibilities, and leaving the island would seem like a dismissal of those responsibilities, but we can also see how doing nothing and staying actually would be a dismissal. We feel that tension because they showed us several believable reasons to feel it.

But when Moana is singing “Beyond,” which is supposedly about her conflicting feelings about leaving, and the need to go? I’m just bored. Not emotionally invested. I just saw her going back-and-forth, leaving and coming back, leaving and coming back, one song ago, in “We’re Back.” And everything was fine during that song. Leaving-And-Coming-Back is the dream she’s been living as a voyager. So why is she suddenly convinced it’s a hard decision to…leave-and-plan-to-come-back?

“Because the last voyager died doing this mission she’s about to go on! She might die too!” Okay but all you did was tell me that. You didn’t show me Moana nearly-dying (like she did the first time she tried to cross the reef, or the first time she tried to tackle Te Ka on her own) and then realizing, “gee, oh no, I could die this time,” and then having to make a renewed decision to go anyway. You didn’t put work in, so I don’t believe it.

But the emotion Moana is feeling about leaving is also undercut, like I said, because there doesn’t seem to be a need for her to leave. All they did was tell me that Motunui is in trouble if it stays isolated. But no proof. They were fine isolated from other islands in Moana 1. They have been fine up until now in Moana 2. One random vision of an empty pavilion for three seconds isn’t going to make me forget that and believe that continued isolation will do anything negative to them.

And another thing, what does “uniting with other islands” even mean?” Why would it be such a good thing?

Nobody mentions trade. Nobody mentions learning from one another, or demonstrates learning from one another. Honestly, having Kele teach Moana or Moni or the Kakamora, an actual other-islander, about farming would’ve been a great demonstration of “why we need to meet new people and get out more.”

Having Kele LEARN TO SWIM would have been a SLOW ONE DOWN THE MIDDLE.

But nooo. They just half-bake suggest the idea that the old man doesn’t like leaving his comfort zone, but then never let one of the others have a real conversation with him about why he needs to learn new things from new people. NEVER. It’s just “bouncy vague song, almost-jump-in-the-water-under-coercion BUT NEVER ACTUALLY DO IT, banter and one liners” for the rest of the movie! (And don’t tell me Kele “learning to speak Kakamora” was an example of him “getting out of his comfort zone.” No. Kele never demonstrated a lack of desire to meet and learn new things from strangers. He demonstrated a hatred of fun and the ocean. All the others could also understand the Kakamora literally whenever they needed to, so that wasn’t a special-character-arc for Kele.)

Even though, my point is, they could’ve easily had a character arc for Kele. And that would’ve had something to do with “learn new things from new people, or die stagnant and stuck in your ways,” look, see, a mini-object-lesson in one character’s journey about the theme of the movie. But noooo

They could’ve done the same type of “learn-something-new-or-die” with Moni. Have him be convinced that doing things the “traditional Motunui Wayfinding Way” on this, his first adventure, is the ONLY way to do things. But he’s not good at it, no matter how much head-knowledge he has. And then the Kakamora (or literally any non-Motunui-character) could’ve shown him a newly-developed style for him to learn and grow.

They could’ve done the same type of “learn-something-new-or-die” with Loto. But nope. She just has a really poorly-done, poorly-written, poorly-performed snippet of a song where she mentions how… “perfection is a myth, the journey is just failing, learning, then death, no destination, ever.” But that ridiculous, absolutely absurd worldview is not portrayed as something she’s wrong about or needs to grow out of. It’s portrayed as a good, quirky, revolutionary thing.

But that’s not the same thing as portraying the value I’m describing. Loto just sings about it and invents-and-reinvents canoes. She does not learn how to make canoes from outsiders. She doesn’t learn anything from anybody. She is portrayed as a solitary genius with her own ideas who’s never once shown to be wrong about anything in the whole movie, and everything she tries works. She never messes up or makes a mistake, for all her singing about it. So she never actually “falls on her face, then gets up and learns.” Even though learning from others would be the literal only way for her character to portray the idea of this vague theme they throw out there, “You Can’t Survive in Isolation.”

The point is: there is no reason, in-movie, SHOWN, for the audience to believe that Moana should “re-unite the islands.” There’s no believable demonstration of why that would be a good thing, and no believable demonstration of why not doing it would be a bad thing.

So then why do we care if she risks her life and Maui’s life to re-unite the islands? For a bunch of nameless nobody background characters to show up for a five-second afterparty on Motunui at the end? Ridiculous.

Moving on.

“There’s Always Another Way”

So BUMP ALL THAT, I GUESS.

Matangi, everybody’s Cherished Hope for a New Villain, sings a song and it’s about “get lost, there is no one way, there’s always a different way.”

Fine. Cool. Whatever. The whole point of the first movie was that there’s this symbolic, ancient, WAY of sailing and living your life bravely. And Moana doesn’t know what that One WAY is because her tribe had forgotten it, so she has to learn it. It’s cool, because you navigate by looking at where you’ve been, to see where you’re going. It’s the whole “remember who you are in order to face life’s challenges, not hide from them.” That’s “the Way.” But whatever. Dump that down the toilet, new movie. You know why? Because everybody’s obsessed with “There’s No One Truth,” and “There Is No Right and Wrong,” and “Let’s Experience Things Just to Experience Them, the Journey is the Destination Because We’re not Going Anywhere!” Blah blah blah ridiculous inane sewage slop.

BUT whatever, fine, IF you mean it in a “There’s Lot’s of Ways to Solve Most Problems, Try Try Again,” sense, that’s okay. That’s true for most problems (not all, but most, certainly there are more than one ways to sail.) Sure. that message, if that’s what they mean, is fine. That’s the sense in which Moana takes it, at least, when she dives down to touch the Core Island and break the curse instead of it rising.

But you know what? Yeah. They don’t flesh it out. They don’t take time to show that that’s what’s happening. Moana doesn’t try to teach her new crew how to sail, and they suck at it, but if she lets them do it their own way or whatever, then they work—and she learns there’s “more than one way.” That doesn’t happen.

The Kakamora that joins their team doesn’t solve all his problems with blow darts, or violence, or whatever—and then Moana, or the kindhearted Moni, or the peaceful Kele, tells him, “no, there’s another way, you don’t always have to do things your violent way.” That doesn’t happen.

Loto has one moment where she applies the way she was already living according-to, from the moment we meet her, not a NEW way, to the canoe so that the gang can out-sail magical waterspouts. And it works for like twenty seconds, is played like a great triumph, before they all get smashed into the ocean anyway.

Kele, again, would’ve been a great example of “learn to do things in a different way, or problem-solve by try-trying again.” Because he’s old and they set him up as hating life for no reason and not wanting to do new things. But they didn’t do anything with him.

And guess what else—at the end—when Moana has her own demigod powers, and her own magical-arm-tattoo ripped off from Tears of the Kingdom—guess what her magic power is?

To stick her oar in the water, and light up one current or “path” for the boat to take to a new destination.

A Path. ONE SINGULAR SOLITARY WAY.

Not “a new way.” Not “all possible ways.” Not “multiple ways.” Not even two ways. One. Even though the big lesson she sacrificed her life for, even though the one and only song Matangi got to sing, was about how “there’s always another way.”

WHILE they’re singing a reprise of, “We Know THE Way.”

It’s like being in a conversation with someone who starts a sentence and then forgets what they were saying halfway through, and winds up saying worse than nothing.

“Together, But a Little Different”

Like I said, if you told me that the Main Point of the movie (not one of many vague ideas, but the Main Point) was “Together, But a Little Different,” I immediately would’ve said:

“Oh, so it’s about having to adjust to long-distance relationships. Maybe even death.” Or, maybe, because I saw the trailers, I’d go, “Oh, so it’s about keeping what makes us unique, but uniting when we need to, in spite of our differences. ‘Together, But a Little Different.’”

No. It’s not about any of that. It’s just a phrase the Grandma’s Ghost says whenever she hugs Moana to remind her that she’s still “with her.” She’s still with her; she just glows and can shapeshift into a manta ray now! That has tons of application for real life. 🙄

It’s supposed to be her words of comfort to pass on to Moana, who can then pass it on to the people in her island, so they know that she won’t “ever really leave them.” But like. Then why should I care that she’s leaving them? Why should that be sad? If there’s no sacrifice in being apart, in leaving for the adventure, then the adventure keeps feeling low-stakes and boring and kind of pointless.

If you tilt your head and squint, it’s also maybe-applying to Moana’s pointless ugly annoying Little Sister character, Simea. Simea is in the movie so that someone can be immature for three seconds about how Moana’s always gone from home. And I do mean exactly three seconds, that’s all the emotional drama we get, and it’s not built up to either. She says, “Never come back? -sniff sniffle- I don’t want you to gooo!” And then runs away and then Moana takes a break from singing the next day to briefly explain to Simea about how she can pass messages through the ocean. Then she’s fine.

But the way this theme is thrown around, you think it would mean, “Moana Has to Go Away Sometimes, But if You Remember Her She Never Leaves You.”

But seriously. Again I say to you, who cares? We know Moana is coming back. We know that. Nobody in the audience seriously believes she’s never coming back when she leaves for this adventure. If we did, maybe we’d care that Simea cares. But we don’t.

Even when Moana “dies,” and it’s the perfect time to be like, “seeee, what we feeeared has happened, she’s dead, she can never go home to Simea!” THERE IS NO FOLLOW-THROUGH. There’s not even a cut to Simea back on Motonui, feeling through the ocean or the Force or whatever movie mumbo-jumbo that her sister is gone. And there is not even a deadline, in the movie, for Moana to accomplish this mission, so it’s not like she could be running late and we could get some scenes of Moana’s family mourning. Simea having to do something, take some big step, that show’s she’s willing to go on even if she can’t be with Moana anymore because she believed Moana about how she’s always with her—something like that.

My point is, Simea has no real point, so she doesn’t add to this “Together, But Different.” idea at all. And we already know that it doesn’t mean, “overcome our differences” from what I said in the first Theme.

But what they could have done? They COULD have gone whole-hog and MADE MOANA A BELIEVABLE DEMIGOD. Instead of a vague joke about tattoos that leaves the question open-ended, a pointless and theme-breaking display of shiny superpowers, and no other change to the status quo—

—they could’ve shown that there are consequences to that action—maybe she’s a Demigod of Navigation, or something like that, and the condition is, she can sail around connecting islands, but she can never stay on one too long. So she’ll never be able to live with Simea and her parents again on Motunui, but it’s the price she has to pay to connect the islands. Then she’d have to show Simea how they can still be “Together, Just a Little Different.”

Or someone could’ve gotten hurt or disabled, giving off the idea that even though everything is “different,” they can still be “together.”

Maui could’ve died and passed his fishhook powers, AND MINI MAUI, on to Moni or Moana. “Together, but different.”

Nothing, nothing at all like that happens. It’s just a pretty phrase that could’ve meant something, but any meaning it actually has hamstrings the whole emotional weight of the story instead of fueling it.

“Something-Something Stories Are Important”

The thing here is. I already said it. You can’t just say words and expect them to be impactful, in a story. You’re supposed to show what they mean and why they’re true, and THAT’S what creates an impact.

So when you’re talking about “stories” in a story, you definitely should not have nothing to say.

And I can feel it. I’ve seen none of the promotional material, I don’t watch the interviews, I haven’t checked BuzzFeed or ScreenRant or the Disney Youtube page in a while, but I can feel it.

I can feel them trying to say, “Something Something, ‘Storytelling’ is a big part of Pacific Islander Culture!” I can imagine the headlines. “[Actor or Disney Exec Name Here] Invites You to Celebrate Your Story with Pacific Islander Heritage Month!” They’re so into “culture as a marketing tool” these days.

But they say it so lazily. Just repeating the word “story” over and over in the movie doesn’t pay tribute to how important “stories” are to Pacific Islanders. Or to anybody.

You know what makes stories impactful? They point at truth, when the darkness and misunderstandings and evil of the world threaten to distract you or hide the truth. That’s what makes stories impactful. I’m sure Pacific Islanders use stories in that way—to pass on what they believe to be true, in a way that can be retold and remembered.

So MAKE THAT THE THEME OF YOUR MOVIE. Instead of just having Moana replace “Nalo wants to kill us” with “Nalo wants to end our story” for Empty Effect—instead of having Grandma say something about “your e

Okay okay.

Nalo is a silly, lazy villain. He is clearly a Thanos rip-off in design and introduction in a literal post-credits scene, and his most-present form, in the movie, is just a big ocean thunderstorm. But the laziest thing about him is that he’s the Conflict that everyone is trying to rise up and overcome, and the whole reason he sunk the Island was “He gets power from humans being divided.”

That’s never explained. It’s never shown at all why he gets power from the vague “humans are divided” thing. He has no scenes. He has no interactions with other characters (till the end-credits scene.) A range of his power, like “here’s what it looks like when the humans are divided—oh, now here’s how much less-powerful he is when they’re together!” is never shown. So. No consequences if the heroes fail, no change to the status-quo, villain-wise, when they win.

If Nalo wanted to end their stories, though, that would be another thing.

Stories are meant to be told. They’re for the benefit of others. So what they should’ve done is made the secret key of Nalo’s power hidden. Unknown. Nobody knows how to beat him. And he’s not sinking some unfindable island in another dimension. He’s just devouring the resources of the weather with his ever-more-powerful storms, (kind of like the darkness leaking through the ocean from the first movie) and nobody can stop him.

But that’s because each island, around Oceania, has clues to how to beat him. Clues in their stories. But they can only sail so far from what they know before his storms kill them. So he’s literally making them weaker by using his power to keep them apart, and making himself stronger by defending his weakness. Now they can’t Wayfind to each other, and learn one another’s cultural advancements or stories or beauties, because Nalo is powerful enough to make storms that rip their boats apart. But if they could learn from one another’s stories about the things their ancestors used against him, they could get rid of him.

That’s what they should’ve done. Shown why Nalo was a threat and how the Main Theme was the key to overcoming that threat.

They did not do that.

They made stories just a hot button word to be thrown around with no impact. In a story.

The point of this post is that Moana 2 had a lot of potentially-good points, and it made none of them, so it was totally unsatisfying. If it had just focused on one, the other little benefits they were trying to fit in could’ve been mentioned more naturally.

The way that Beauty & the Beast is all about ONE theme: “True Love is Self-Sacrificial.” But because of the tools it uses to tell that story—a beast that it would take a lot of self-sacrifice to be stuck with forever—you get little side-themes thrown in, supporting and draping decoratively over the ONE theme: “Beauty is Found Within, So Don’t Be Deceived By Appearances,” etc.

Moana 2 should’ve just picked the Story One, and it could’ve had that theme, and it’s cultural-nod cake, and it’s unifying-effect cake, and EATEN IT TOO.

And we could’ve eaten it. And WE could’ve enjoyed it! But no. Money money money lazy lazy lazy.

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dragonnarrative-writes · 1 year ago

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Autumn Embers Verse

Omegaverse AU where people who are compatible have complementary scents.

Your friends assure you that the bar they’re dragging you to is nicer than it looks online. You highly doubt that, but you’re willing to go along until the three of them get bored and decide to get a car to the club district. And they will get bored, because you recognize the name and address that they’re trying to go to. You’ve never been, but some of your new coworkers on the base have invited you out for drinks and pool.

When Christie flounces out in a bright pink mini-dress, you can’t help but grin. “You look great. Super cute. But I don’t think that’s the vibe of the bar.”

Admittedly, you’re dressed a bit less conservatively than the bar might call for. But you feel cute in your black skater skirt and white top. Styled with floral lace stockings, boots, and silver jewelry, it’s more dressing up than you’ve been able to do in the last 6 months.

“I’m not dressing for the military bar,” Christie says, checking her makeup in the hall mirror before dropping on the couch next to you. She tosses her brown hair over one shoulder and pulls out her phone to order a car. “I’m dressing for when Mel and Jack decide they’re done shopping for alphas and want to go to the club.”

“Military packs are already cohesive,” Jack sniffs, emerging from the hall in cute jeans, a mesh top, and a sensible jacket. Behind him, Mel is dressed very similarly, though they’ve opted for cargo pants. “It’s not impossible that we might find a couple of someones who might be interesting.”

“If nothing else, they’ll buy you drinks,” you concede. “Pretty sure they have pool tables. If there’s one open, maybe we play a couple of rounds. Give Jack a chance to bend over and show off.”

The car, when it arrives, is a little small, but the four of you pile in gamely. You sit in the front, since your hips need the room. The driver gives a smile and a nod through his cloth mask and starts driving as soon as your seatbelt is secure. You reflexively drop the window a bit, though it’s already open. It makes sense - driving groups around all night definitely lends itself to a lot of conflicting scents.

In the back, Chrissy’s floral omega scent plays well with Jack and Mel’s sweet beta and omega mix. The very subtle floral notes of your own scent don’t clash too badly, but the base note of charcoal does sometimes leave people’s noses a bit confused. You catch the moment the driver catches a hint of your scent and darts a look at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You occupy yourself on your phone for the fifteen minute drive, tuning out Chrissie and Jack’s complaints about work.

When you arrive, the bar is just about what you expected. Run-down in a lived-in kind of way but clean. Dim and quiet. The exact opposite of Jack and Chrissie, but that doesn’t stop them from swanning in through the doors and making their way immediately to the bar. You and Mel follow behind. You make eye contact with a couple of people you kind of recognize, give a quirk of a smile as a greeting.

By the time you’ve decided what to drink, Chrissie and Jack have already charmed a trio of alphas into conversation and a promised game of pool. Mel leans into Jack’s back and introduces themself in their quiet way. You give your name with a wave before ordering a whiskey sour.

“Put their drinks on our tab,” one of the alphas says. He holds his hand out to you to shake. “Daniels. I’ve seen you on base before, yeah?”

“I’ve been working admin for a couple of months,” you confirm as you shake his hand. He’s polite enough not to try to rub wrists on a first meeting, at least. His scent reminds you of the bakery near your house. “It’s not a bad job.”

Once everyone has their drinks and the group makes their way over to one of the open pool tables, you think you could have a pretty good night. Daniels and his friends, Bennet and Bakshi, are actually pretty fun. They’re obviously flirting with Chrissie and Jack (and Mel, by extension), but they’re not ignoring you. Daniels and Bakshi, at least, include you in the conversation and ask questions about your job, how you all know each other, where you’re from.

When Bakshi manages to pull Mel into a conversation about video games and cyber security, you and Chrissie excuse yourselves to the restroom.

“I should have worn jeans,” she sighs. “This is really fun, but kind of a waste of an outfit.”

You’re about to laugh when you pass by a table and make eye contact with a man you’ve only seen in passing before. You recognize Sergent MacTavish by his mohawk, and give him a little half smile. Then you notice Captain Price and Sergent Garrick. The blond in a skull themed cloth mask can only be Lieutenant Riley. You give all four of them a startled little nod of acknowledgment, and then Chrissie is tugging you into the bathroom.

You’ve never met anyone from Task Force 141 before. Any time you’ve heard of them, at least two have been sent off somewhere across the world. You don’t have the clearance to deal with any of their reports, but you know enough to understand that they’re practically rock stars.

“Five quid, Jack and Mel have all three of their numbers by the end of the night,” Chrissie interrupts your musing as she checks her makeup in the mirror. As usual, she’s perfect, and you hear her take a selfie.

“Ten quid, Bennet asks for yours,” you counter from the stall.

“No bet, he’s already asked.” Chrissie answers. “But he’s a tool.”

“You like tools.”

“That’s true. It’s the muscles.” she agrees. “If he asks me on a proper date, I won’t say no.”

“Not a waste of a dress, then,” you point out before flushing and making your way to wash your hands. “Is he wearing scent blockers? I can’t get a bead on him.”

“He’s a subtle bit of tobacco leaf. Bakshi is nutmeg and Daniels-”

“Daniels smells like fresh bread,” you finish.

“Oh, ho, ho,” Chrissie chuckles, leaning her hip on the counter as you wash your hands. “Took notice did you?”

“We shook hands.” You roll your eyes. “Kind of hard not to notice.” When you step out of the bathroom, you’re startled to see Sergent MacTavish leaning against the wall on his phone. His eyes snap up to yours and he stands up to his full height. He’s bigger than you expected, and you find yourself helpless to hold his stare. When he smiles, you feel yourself flush.

“Evenin’, bonnie lass,” he says, after a moment. “C’n I get a moment of your time?”

Chrissie practically skips the couple of steps away to stand at the entrance of the hall leading to the bathrooms. She doesn’t quite abandon you with a strange alpha, but she does turn her back and pull out her phone.

Before you can comment on her absence, or introduce yourself, or even think about what to say, MacTavish has stepped close. His scent, something warm and earthy and somehow also floral, floods your senses. At the same time, he leans down to hover his nose just short of touching your temple. You can’t help but blush harder at how bold he’s being. The way he takes your scent into his lungs is just this side of vulgar.

“So it has been you we’ve been scenting around base,” he chuckles, taking a deliberate step back and leaning back against the wall again. He crosses big arms across his chest and smiles. “Gaz’s been tying himself in knots trying to catch more than faded hints near the caf’.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “…Sorry? I’m new to the base.”

He grins. “Well, I’m glad you’re around. Sergent MacTavish.” He doesn’t offer his hand, but considering the how rude he was before, it’s not like he needs to.

You stammer an introduction and decide to make your retreat. “It was, um, nice to meet you, Sergent. I have to get back to my friends.” “Be seeing you around, hen,” he says, and doesn’t move as you make your retreat.

As soon as you’re clear of the hall, you make the mistake of looking that the 141’s table. All of their eyes snap to your face as soon as you’re visible. You almost freeze under their attention, but Chrissie rescues you. She takes your arm and practically marches you across the bar to rejoin Jack and Mel, who immediately pull you close to drag you into some debate about music.

You can’t contribute much to the conversation. Thank goodness for Chrissie, who gleefully carries the discussion. You’re too distracted to do much more than give vague agreements for a long time.

At the end of the night, when you and your friends leave the bar, you chance a glance toward the 141’s table. Four pairs of eyes stare back.

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #poly 141 #omegaverse #autumn embers verse #named after the fragrance oil i looked up to decide the 141 pack scents

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artiststarme · 1 year ago

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It's No Secret... Anymore

Thank you to @mx-jinxous for the prompt! This took a really long time to write but it was so much fun playing with everyone's dynamics. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve felt like he was dreaming. It felt like he was looking through someone else’s eyes, dissociating far from his own body. He couldn’t feel the weight of Eddie’s slowly-fading body in his arms or the burning of the wounds in his sides. He wasn’t aware of where he was or if anyone was following him. He was purely relying on muscle memory and muscle memory alone.

He didn’t see the speeding car in front of him that swerved into a nearby bush and fence post. He hardly noticed the hands pulling him backward and out of the road. He came back to himself though once he heard his brother’s voice.

“Steve? Steve-O? Come on buddy, you’re worrying me here. Where have you been? I haven't seen your ass all week. Come on man, are you… are you fucking bleeding? Brother, answer me. We can’t be out here, there’s an earthquake going on. Come with me.”

Steve blinked just to come face to face with Phil. He was shining his flashlight on Eddie’s face against Steve’s shoulder but his eyes were focused directly on Steve’s.

“You with me, bro?” His mustache twitched unhappily and Steve rushed to answer.

“Um, no. Not really. I think he’s dying and I kinda might be too. And I think my friends are missing? Where am I?” Steve couldn’t get his thoughts together cohesively. His mind was fractured, overcome with too much trauma in too little time.

Phil just looked more concerned at his words with his face becoming vaguely panicked once he looked at Eddie. He looked quickly up at Steve, down at Eddie, then back at Steve. “Is this Eddie Munson? The murderer Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson that has been on the run all week? Good golly Steve, I’m trying not to curse but what the fuck?”

Steve just looked at the pinched expression of pain that Eddie held and murmured, “he’s my friend.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Fine, we’ll deal with this later. Think you can walk to my squad car? I kinda damaged the front end but I’m sure it's semi-driveable. Powell’s tied up with the gates to hell opening up, I have plenty of time to take care of you.”

“Yeah, I can- I can walk,” and he could with the support of Phil. He felt his brother supporting both his and Eddie’s weight until they were deposited into the backseat of the patrol unit.

“And uh, is the girl hiding in the bushes with you? She’s kinda been watching us for awhile. You might have a stalker, little bro.” He shined his flashlight over to the bush and saw a sandy bob duck behind the foliage.

“Robin?” Steve muttered, still out of it and only on the verge of consciousness.

“Buckley, is that you? Come on, you’re coming with us back to Steve’s place. Let’s go,” Phil waved the light between the two. He had both hands on his hips and stood like a disappointed middle-aged dad. “I don’t have time to be doing things willy-nilly. Let’s go!”

Robin poked her head out of the bushes and scooted gracelessly over to the car until she was able to bump elbows with Steve. They both relaxed a smidgen within the same space, the two brain cells reuniting after a stressful ten minutes apart.

Phil hopped in the driver’s seat and bumped his head against the steering wheel. What had this idiot gotten himself into now?

~*~*~*~

By the time Phil arrived at his house at the edge of the suburbs, all three kids were out cold in his backseat. He stood at the open back door for a moment before sighing and lugging first Robin, then Eddie, then Steve into his living room, huffing with exertion all the while. He would definitely have to cut back on the station donuts and start exercising again. Right after he dealt with the dying fugitive on his brother’s couch, the blood seeping through Steve’s shirt, and his brother’s unconscious best friend that was snoring atrociously.

Jesus Christ.

Well, he had plenty of practice with medical care from his EMT training so he got to work. He got the first aid kit out of the squad car and started with the murderous Munson. Phil didn’t know what had happened to these kids but it couldn’t be any good. Munson’s entire torso was torn apart like he’d been gnawed on by a wild animal. It wasn’t bleeding too bad but he was missing chunks of skin, so much so that Phil couldn’t sew him up with just sutures. Hell, this kid was going to need skin grafts. A lot of them.

He put gauze on the worst of the wounds then cautiously stepped over to Steve. What he’d seen on Munson made him hesitant to look at the damage but surely it couldn’t be worse than that. Right? As soon as he lifted Steve’s shirt, he came immediately to two conclusions.

1. Steve had a lot more chest hair than he did and that was totally unfair.

2. The wounds on Steve’s abdomen were deep, infected, and horrific.

Just like with Munson, there was nothing to close. All he saw were missing chunks of skin and muscle that should have been in his sides. The marred remains were covered in grime and yellowish puss that made the entire room smell of infection.

Fuck, he couldn’t help them here. He had to get them, all three of them because he wasn’t touching an unconscious girl for anything, to a hospital. But that begged the question; which hospital? Munson… Eddie was wanted all through the state of Indiana for at least three murders and an assault. If he took him to any nearby hospital, he would be arrested and surely there was more to the story if Steve was protecting him so much. He couldn’t let one of Steve’s only friends get arrested without hearing the story from the both of them.

He had to take these three up to a hospital in Illinois. Chicago was roughly four hours away, he knew from his and Steve’s annual visits to their great aunt in Evanston. It was a risk, both for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive as well as hoping he survived that long of a drive, but his gut told him to trust his brother on this one. So that’s what he did. He loaded the three teens back into his patrol car and mumbled swears under his breath when he passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign. He hoped to all that was mighty that he was making a good call.

~*~*~*~

Steve woke up to familiar voices; one hushed and one screeching.

“You kidnapped them?! You’re a cop, I thought you would help them but instead you drove them all the way to goddamn Chicago like some middle-aged pervert loser?” Steve came around to a loud argument between what sounded like Dustin and Phil. It was weird though because he’d never introduced the two.

“Hey, listen here shithead, words hurt. I am not middle-aged, I’m 28. And why would I kidnap my own brother? I can legally take him anywhere, it's practically my birthright. I don’t have to go through all the work of kidnapping him.” Phil shook his head at Dustin.

“Stop trying to trick me, I know Eddie is an only child!”

“Munson?! I’m Steve’s big brother, you little gremlin. Can’t you see the resemblance?” He gestured between where Steve was groggily looking up at him and then back at himself.

“No, but I can’t see anything past your outrageous mustache.” Steve saw Phil’s jaw drop and knew that Dustin had crossed a line.

“You short fucker, that is too far! I take a lot of pride in this ‘outrageous mustache’,” Phil put air quotes around the offending remake before pointing an aggressive finger in Dustin’s direction. “I will absolutely take you off the visitation list, toothless. Do not test me.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll report you to the authorities!” Dustin countered.

“I am the authorities!” Phil dropped all decorum and screamed at practically the top of his lungs.

Sensing enough was enough, Steve tried to push himself up to a sitting position before a burning in his sides caused him to fall back down. Both men (or one man and Dustin) stopped their squabbling and rushed to his sides.

“Steve, you’re hurt so don’t try to get up. Shit kid, let me get a nurse or something. You weren’t doing too hot.” With that Phil sprinted out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s station and Steve was left with Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin.

He looked blearily at all of them before asking the most important question, “where’s Eddie?”

They all parted to reveal Eddie lying in the bed next to him. His neck and chest were covered with bandages but his face looked peaceful. There were no cuffs on his wrists as Steve assumed there would be. He laid back again and let out a sigh. Everything was as it should be, he could finally relax.

“Um so Steve, don’t be mad but your brother can be really persuasive when he wants to be and you never introduced him as your brother so I just kind of assumed that we were getting captured by the police and that it was going to be so much worse than the Russians because I always thought Officer Callahan was kind of psycho. But then I woke up here and he bought me Cheetos so everything is fine. Except it's kind of not because you and Eddie have been out for a couple of days and I told Big Not-Harrington about the Upside Down and now he’s really worried. Why did you have to stay asleep so long, dingus? I missed you!”

Steve honestly zoned out when he heard “Cheetos” and only tuned back in when Robin, the usual physical affection-hater, threw herself on top of him in a hug. He withheld the grunt of pain and held her back just as hard.

“What the hell just happened, bro? Like that was a lot of words, little bird lady. Woah.”

Steve didn’t know if he was hallucinating the long-haired surfer in a Hawaiian outfit or if Vecna had somehow managed to melt his mind after all but he had never been more confused in his life to see the new visitor make themselves known.

“Who the fuck is that?” He muttered in absolute bafflement.

Dustin sighed as he too wrestled a hug from Steve, “that’s Argyle. Come on, Steve. Keep up.”

“Like the sock pattern? How many drugs am I on right now?!”

~*~*~*~

“... and that’s kind of why I didn’t tell you about the Upside Down,” Steve finished from his seat beside Eddie, their hands tangled together as they both sat across from Phil.

He looked at both of them with a completely deadpan stare. “Again, but the truth this time.”

Eddie huffed in annoyance. “We are telling you the truth, man! An evil wizard guy named Vecna-”

“Slash Henry, slash One,” Steve and Robin interjected in unison.

“-possessed four teenagers to end the world or something and broke their bodies apart with his mind. Then the angry mob thought it was me but I would never kill anyone, especially not Chrissy. She was always really nice to me and remembered my band from the talent show in middle school. And then we got stuck in Hell where evil demon bats ate our flesh and tentacles ripped through the earth. Then we saved Nancy from the evil mind melt powers by playing her favorite song. After that, we made a plan and she shot Vecna and killed him while Dustin and I were decoys where I was attacked.”

“Then I went back for Eddie and carried him out where you almost ran us over. The end,” Steve emphasized the finale with a deliberate nod of his still-aching head.

Phil looked at them with the most exasperation Steve had ever seen in his life. He let out a pitying chuckle, his poor brother didn’t sign up for this. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Phil's eyes rolled so hard that Steve could tell he saw stars. He could almost see the scream being prepared in his throat and couldn't gather enough strength to escape it.

"STEVEN MICHAEL HARRINGTON, WHAT THE MOTHERLOVING FUCK?!"

"Look Philly, I'll say it one more time then I'm done, okay? It first started way back when Will Byers went missing in 1983..."

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone

@awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24 @pukner @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @fandommaniac123

#Phil gets Eddie's name cleared by walking into the station and telling Powell it wasn't him #Powell is so fucking stressed that he just drops it and blames Jason when Phil suggests it #As soon as they're all healed up Phil gives Eddie the shovel talk of all shovel talks feat. his gun #Eddie hands him a donut and all is forgotten #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #officer phil callahan #officer callahan is steve’s brother #it took me so long to write this and I still don't know if I like it

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blossomarlia · 4 months ago

Note

heyyyy hope ur having a good day, just requesting a drabble (if ur up to it) w maybe like James and a reader who feels like she has bad fashion taste, kind of niche so don't worry if u don't want to write it!

hii tysm for this request, it was so fun to write! hope your day is wonderful too <3

summary: james finds you stressing over your fashion sense

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mild sexual implications

“Hey, sweetheart?” James calls as he comes out of the shower. You look up from your spot on the bedroom floor glumly, barely even able to make the most of this opportunity to look at your boyfriend with his shirt off. Perhaps if you ask him later on he’ll take it off again, just to make up for lost time.

“Hi,” You say, unsuccessfully attempting to insert some cheer into your voice. “Sorry, not dressed yet.”

“We’ve ages before we need to leave- you can go like that, if you want to.” He shrugs, eyebrows knitting together as he takes in your expression. You look down at your outfit; track-pants and a t-shirt out of James’ drawer. Definitely not appropriate attire for meeting friends for dinner and drinks. “Everything alright?”

“I don’t have anything to wear,” You sigh, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. The countless skirts, pants and tops strewn across your bedroom floor are evidence to the opposite, and you know you have nice clothing. Supply isn’t the issue, it’s your apparent lack of ability to select the right combination. “I can’t put together a nice outfit.”

“Sure you can,” James says easily, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt before joining you on the floor, his knee pressing against your thigh. “What about that lovely wrap skirt you wore to my parents’ house for lunch?”

“I don’t know what to wear it with.” You stare dejectedly at the offending item of clothing, which you’ve tried on with about six tops- including the one from last weekend- and taken off again. Nothing looks right, nothing feels like something you’d want to show up to dinner in. Shamefully, you’re struck with jealousy towards your other friends; Lily, with her grown-up outfits that might as well live in a fashion catalogue; Marlene always so effortless and cool; Mary in figure-hugging fabrics that make her look like a goddess. You don’t have the same ability, it seems, instead left totally incapable of even pairing jeans with a top that won’t make you feel as if you’re doing an impression of someone with taste vastly different to yours.

You sigh, growing more frustrated by the second. James, noticing, shuffles closer and wraps a strong arm around you. His wet hair sprinkles you as he turns to press a kind kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t stress over it, honey-girl. What’s got you so upset?”

“I don’t know.” You press your face to your knees where they’re pulled up, feeling stupid. “I don’t feel very… good, at this. Picking outfits. It’s silly.”

“It isn’t,” James is quick to correct. “But it’s not true, either- you have fantastic outfits, sweetheart. Did someone say otherwise?”

The truth is, nobody’s mentioned your fashion taste at all, really. That’s the problem- silly as it seems. In groups of friends, you’re nobody’s first choice for outfit advice, never the receiver of compliments on your clothing choices. You try really hard to wear clothing that’ll suit you, mimic outfits you see online or from the various stylish people in your life, but none of it feels or looks right. You always look so awkward, you think. Never quite correctly proportioned, never cohesively coloured or textured. You don’t know what you’re doing wrong, you only see the result of it in the mirror each morning.

“No,” You shake your head. “I just… feel as if none of my clothes look right, when I put them together. I haven’t got good style.”

It feels like such a shameful thing to admit, both for the childishness of the confession and the truth of it. You can hardly look at James- not for lack of trying on his part, as he squeezes you and presses a kiss to your cotton-clothed shoulder.

“That’s not the case at all!”

“It is a bit. It’s alright, Jamie, I’m being dramatic. It’s only frustrating me right now because I can’t find something good to wear tonight,” You assure him, voice muffled against your legs. You’re not trying to sound quite as sad as you do. “Sorry.”

He cups your cheek in one hand, so gently that you don’t realise he’s bringing your face up to his level until he’s done it. You blink quickly. “No sorries, my darling. C’mere.”

You’ll go crazy before you reject a cuddle from your boyfriend, so it’s with little resistance that you let him pull you halfway onto his lap and wrap you in his fresh shower smell and warmth. You’re almost lying down, head nestled under his chin and arms around his middle as he rubs gentle lines down your back.

“You,” He says thoughtfully, “Have really lovely taste in clothing. I know it’s true because I think it each time you come home from the shops and show me what you’ve bought, or try on things before we go out. I particularly love your taste in things during the winter time- not just because you use several of my jumpers- really, because you do such a wonderful job of choosing things that are lovely and interesting. I also love it when you mix colours, especially in the summer, because I know that I’ll have a much greater chance of matching flowers to your outfit when I buy them for you.”

You laugh despite yourself, sitting up a little and accepting the sweet kiss he offers you. James’ thumb draws soft circles on the skin on front of your ear, his fingers comforting in your hair.

“I’ve been the sillier of the two of us, really,” He goes on. “Not telling you how much I like all the things you wear. I didn’t realise you weren’t feeling pleased about your clothes, baby, I’ll be sure to let you know from now on.”

“It’s not something you’ve done wrong,” You frown, not wanting to fish for compliments. James gives you plenty of them; it’s not his fault if your specific fashion choices haven’t caught his attention, and you don’t want him to feel bad about it.

He considers this. “S’pose not, but it’s hardly going to be an issue for me to externalise a few more of my thoughts. Do it plenty already, don’t I?”

You breathe out another giggle. “Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’, she says,” James teases, digging his fingers into your ribs and laughing when you squirm away. “I mean it, though. I’ll only be being honest, and I hear that’s rather healthy for relationships.”

“Crazy,” You say sarcastically. There’s a brief lull, and you’re perfectly happy to stay in his arms like this as long as he’ll have you. “You really think it’s not so bad? My style?” “Not in the slightest, sweetheart. I love your style, I love all your clothes.” He confirms. You search his handsome face, his dimples, his kind eyes, and find only patient assurance. “Still, it matters quite a lot less what I think; if you’re unhappy, we can go shopping and find some new outfits for you to wear.”

You sigh. “I’m not sure that’ll help. I’m worried that I don’t have the ability to pick the right stuff, I… I don’t even think I really know what my style is.”

“Well, we could ask for help if you’d like it. I’m sure our friends would be happy to lend a hand- or if you’re not keen on it, we could spend a little while trying out different styles to find what suits you the best. Whatever would make you happy, angel.”

You’re a little overwhelmed with how much you like and love your boyfriend, so instead of attempting to express it you press your lips to his, pleased as ever when he moves his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to his chest. You’re sure you could stay like this forever, happy and together on the floor of your bedroom, but your phone’s alarm reminds you that it’s time to get ready. You pull yourself reluctantly off James, who’s looking a little dazed himself, and let out a long breath.

“You’re very kind, Jamie,” You say. He grins.

“Could show you how kind, if you-” “Mm-mm.” You shake your head before you can be too tempted by the tickle of his calloused fingertips under the edge of your t-shirt. “We have to leave in half an hour, and I do have to decide on something to wear tonight.”

He groans as if you’re telling him you’ll never kiss him again, sitting up properly and letting you climb off his lap. “You’re far too responsible, sweetheart. It’s your sole flaw.”

You pat his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you later. For now-” You survey the piles of clothing around you- “I suppose I’d better just choose something I’ve worn before.”

James gets to his feet, looking at the sum of your side of the wardrobe and humming contemplatively. “Well, nothing wrong with that.”

“Mm,” You half-agree.

He bends down and grabs a black longsleeve in one hand, your jeans in the other. “This always looks good, don’t you think? I could lend you one of my jackets to go with it.”

You nod without giving yourself time to stress about all the other times you’ve worn something similar, smiling fondly up at James’ hopeful expression. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” “It’s no hardship, angel,” He says lightly, handing you the clothes. “Just don’t overthink it, yeah? You’re so pretty.” You look away to hide your blush, still shy when he compliments you so earnestly, and James makes a happy sort of sound. “And cute, I mean-”

“Okay, enough!” You laugh, taking the clothing just to shut him up.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #remus lupin #prongs x you #prongs x reader #james potter x y/n fluff #james potter drabble #marauders era fluff #james fluffy drabble #y/n #x reader

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

Text

Quand Tu Voudras

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~7.2k

TW: kissing, angst, blood, burns, cuts, bruises, arguments, crying, depression, mention of EDs, panicking, explosions, drinking, self-image issues, mentions of addiction, mentions of drug use, mentions of Maeve

A/N: Third and Final Part babyyyyyy let's GO. I'm actually excited to watch each part get its own vibes, but also be a cohesive story. I really hope you all enjoy it! Thank y'all for doing me on this crazy journey!

Dedicated to New Lovers , You're Keeping Me Down

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” ~Orson Welles

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked.

Shopping for a wedding dress was one of the most terrifying experiences you had ever lived through, and you had been shot multiple times.

But being surrounded by your closest friends and family members as you tried on dress after dress kept you going.

You finally found the perfect one in a small shop outside of the DC area, hidden in a little suburb where life wasn’t as rushed as it felt.

You tried on only three dresses at this little boutique. The second was almost perfect, and you were about to “say yes to the dress,” but someone was reorganizing the front rack, and that’s when the one you were currently wearing appeared, sent by the higher powers.

It fits you perfectly.

You started to cry when you saw yourself in the mirror, which caused Garcia to start crying, which caused Emily and JJ to cry, and the rest of your family quickly followed.

So it was only natural that staring at yourself in the mirror right now made you tear up again.

“Oh, Babe, no.” Emily was quick to fan your eyes as you tilted your head back, letting the tears melt back into your eyes.

“I can’t help it.” You grumbled, eyes wide as you tried calming your breathing slowly. “It’s just so pretty…”

“I know, I know. My money is on Derek crying first.”

“Oh, please. We all know Rossi won’t stop crying the second he takes his seat.”

You had decided that the only people you wanted at the ceremony were close friends and family. That meant the team, their little ones, and each of your parents. Small. Peaceful. Intimate.

Derek was over the moon when you asked him to officiate your wedding, wanting him to be there for you in every way since that’s always been his role.

You had taken him out for coffee under the very real guise that wedding planning made you want to rip your head off and chuck it out to sea.

“Okay, baby girl, talk to me.”

The ice was melting in the cup from the warmth of your hands, making your hands wet with the condensation, hiding the sweat from your nerves.

“Do you know how much flowers cost?”

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“The government doesn’t pay me enough for the amount of flowers I want at my reception.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked the Peabody Library as your reception location.”

“In my defense.” You furrowed your brows. “You were with us when we toured it. It’s perfect, Derek. Don’t tell me it’s not.”

“No, it’s perfect; I just don’t understand why you need that many flowers.”

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even know me, Derek Morgan.”

“He’s going to cry first.” Emily smiled, lightly dabbing under your eyes with some of your powder foundation to show that you weren’t almost crying.

“I will buy you a whole bottle of Möet that Rossi will cry first.”

As JJ entered the room, you and Emily shook hands, giggling like school girls. “Almost ready?”

You nodded, glancing over at yourself in the mirror.

Honestly, you had never thought this day would come. Your wedding day. After everything you had been through, all of the heartbreak, all of the confusion, all of the traveling and running away. Everything you could possibly think of going wrong just went wrong. Suddenly, the flowers weren’t delivered, and then no one showed up to the reception, and then you were left at the altar, abandoned and unloveable again. You couldn’t breathe; your chest was seizing. It was too tight. There wasn’t enough fresh air in the room. Your heartbeat was too loud, and you couldn’t look away from yourself in the mirror. This wasn’t real; Everything bad happening was in your head.

Or maybe it was an awful dream, and you need to wake up before it gets too far and your heart gets shattered again.

JJ whispered your name, reaching out for you, sending a shock of electricity through your arm when she touched it.

You jumped.

“I want to talk to him.” You blurted out, looking over at JJ. “I–I need to talk to him.”

“You said yes.”

You nodded, staring down at your wine glass, pondering if it was the right decision. Emily was wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to go back to—”

“It is.” You cut her off, not harshly, just firmly. “I haven’t been the same since I left the BAU, and I left for perfectly valid reasons, Em, I know. But….”

“But?”

“But I miss it. Don’t you? It flexes my muscles in ways I couldn’t replicate, and I was so good at it. I felt smart and useful and not lost, wandering the islands of Greece.”

If you didn’t know her so well, Emily’s fake gasp could have easily been mistaken for a real one. “We had a fantastic time, and you know it.”

“Yes, but I also know that I was feeling so unfulfilled intellectually that I went off and got a Ph.D. Like, come on, I never wanted a PhD before I left; I just didn’t know how to challenge myself.”

“That is fair. I just think you need to consider the fact that you’d be working with you know who.”

“You can say his name, Emily. He’s not some dark lord; he’s just an idiot with an IQ of 187.”

“Yeah, Yeah, look. I have to go, but we are not done with this conversation, okay? I’ll need a full PowerPoint presentation with all the pros and the cons.”

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

You heard the click of her line going dead before there was a knock on your door. You quickly pressed play on your movie, letting one of your favorite rom-coms (When Harry Met Sally) play in the background as you scrounged around for where you had left your wallet.

Clad in an oversized shirt you’ve had forever, plaid pajama shorts that were once part of a Christmas set, and your comfiest fuzzy socks, you slid over to the door once you had found your wallet.

You opened the door. “How much…”

His eyes met yours, and you took a small step back.

“You are not the pizza guy.”

“No. I’m not.”

His answer caused you to laugh a little bit, filling his chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in over two years.

“Can I–” He gestured into your house, and you moved to the side, allowing him to enter.

“I, um….” You bit your lip and eyed him up and down. “As long as you’re okay with When Harry Met Sally playing in the background.”

“Time for the annual rewatch.” He smiled at you nervously, but a very small part of yourself enjoyed the fact that he remembered.

You headed back towards the couch, casually trying to clean up as you went to give the impression that you were cleaner than you were.

“Shoes off before you get to the couch.” You called over your shoulder.

The door closed behind Spencer with a soft click.

“Honey, you said you don’t want a first look.”

“We don’t have to look at each other—I don’t know, like a corner or something. I just..I-I-I.”

JJ watched as your panic started to bubble over, and she took your hands in hers. “Want to call him first?”

You nodded. “Y-Yeah, let’s try that.”

JJ handed you your phone off the vanity, watching as you dialed the number, panicking even more when it wouldn’t connect—there was no service.

Spencer had asked you to play chess with him that night, and you obliged. Something about falling into an old routine felt good; it felt right. A movie you chose in the background while playing chess against Spencer. Some things were always meant to be. The night was filled with laughs, small talk, and contentment–life feeling like it should.

A familiarity shrouded you both, mocking the comfort you once used to feel.

When you won, he was a bit baffled. You had only beaten him a few times, and he was focusing on all of the outcomes. How could he not notice—

“You can’t win every game, Spence.”

His heart lodged in his throat at the nickname, and he looked up at you, that goofy half smile on his lips.

Lovestruck. He looked lovestruck.

And then you exhaled. “We can’t avoid it forever. I know that’s why you came here in the first place.”

He blinked away the love, replacing it with guilt, hurt, fragments of something you both had grieved in your own time.

“Y-yeah. Let’s um, let’s talk about…”

You redialled the number only to be met with the same beeping as before, eyes wide as you looked at JJ. “There’s no service. JJ, I can’t–he won’t…”

Emily handed you her phone–it was ringing, thank god.

“Hey Emily, is everything okay?”

“It’s me.” You said simply, but the wobble in your voice said everything he needed to hear.

“oh–Honey, talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I-I…” You swallowed your tears and looked over at your two friends—you gestured slightly, silently asking them to leave the room so you could talk to your future husband alone. They obliged, letting the door close. It was nice of them to pretend like they weren’t running over to see if they could eavesdrop from his room, but they were just met with Derek in the hall, who had also been booted out.

“Is she okay?”

Emily shook her head. “No idea. She was fine one moment, and she was about to burst the next. Like a complete shift of personality.”

Derek sighed. “I’ve never seen him switch so quickly either. He was all nervous one minute, but the second he heard her voice….he almost sounded like Hotch doing damage control.”

JJ laughed slightly at that, glancing back at the door hiding you behind it.

“Do you think she’ll go through with it?” Derek whispered slowly, making sure no one was around to hear him.

Emily fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist. “She’s terrified he’s not going to.”

“Look, Spence, I get it. Shit happens. But you don’t know what it was like, coming home one day and you were laughing with someone else. You hadn’t laughed for months, almost a year, before then.”

“I know. I’m so–”

“Say sorry one more fucking time. Sorry isn’t explaining…or talking to me. I know you have trouble expressing whatever bullshit is going on in your head, but you have to try. It’s me, for fucks sake, Spence, And while I am willing to wait, I can only be so patient for so long with no actual explanation—”

“I was terrified of you.”

“What…”

Spencer stood up, pacing back and forth in front of your coffee table, trying to find the right words. “You were so far gone when Em died, and you had sunk into this pit of despair, and I was scared of watching you push down this path, destructive and–and; I didn’t know who you were, and I was so scared to watch you go down this path so I turned away instead.”

“Spencer, you ran to JJ. You just left me here, alone. And then, when she comes back, you fucking threaten the fact that you were having Dilaudid cravings?”

“I think he’s even more mortified that she will back out on him. He knows everything she’s gone through. I mean–I love her, but she’s got major commitment issues.”

JJ slapped his arm and glared at him. “And for good reason, Derek.”

Derek grumbled an ‘ow,’ rubbing at his arm. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified–I completely side with her on it--I’m just pointing out what we already know.”

Spencer closed his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore.”

Your heart leaped into your throat, or maybe it was vomit, you weren’t sure, but all you could do was stare at him from across the kitchen countertop.

“Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…”

You hadn’t even spoken yet, shaking your head. “Stop. Spencer. What.”

Your head was pounding, hands gripping onto the counter to try and steady yourself.”

“Sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t even look at you. He was just staring at his hands, almost unsure about what he was saying.

“Sorry?” You laughed, tears starting to track down your cheeks. “Spencer, this has to be a sick fucking joke..”

He shook his head.

Behind the door, You were just pacing back and forth, listening to his voice, trying to erase this memory from your mind and find a new one to replace it, barely listening to the man on the other end of the line.

“Hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. If you want to call the whole thing off, everyone will understand. If it’s not right—.”

“No.” You responded immediately. “I–I, I want to do this, I want to marry you…just…”

“You just needed some reassurance. I know.”

You nodded, not realizing he couldn’t hear you nod, but somehow, it felt like he did.

“I love you.”

You smiled, exhaling shakily. “Good.”

His laugh bubbled through his lips, causing you to take another breath.

“I’ll see you out there?”

“Can you just stay on the phone for another minute or so? I just need, like—”

You could hear him nod over the phone. “Anything you want.”

Somehow, you were back in that fucking elevator. Again.

But this time, it felt like a homecoming rather than a curse you were trying to break.

When the doors opened, you saw your family leaving little presents on your desk—flowers, balloons, chocolate, even cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They were all so busy setting it up that they didn’t notice as you walked up behind them, peering over their shoulders.

“Looks good, guys.”

“You think—” Derek did a double take and clutched his chest. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

You laughed and smiled at him, dropping your bag onto your chair. “It looks wonderful. You guys didn’t have to do anything for me–”

“Actually, we did. How could we not? I mean! She’s home! She’s back solving crimes in sexy-looking outfits!” Garcia wrapped her arm around your shoulders, resting her head on yours.

“I love it, guys, thank you.”

JJ briskly walked past you all, giving you a brief smile, almost running up the stairs and into Hotch’s office.

“Well, looks like you’re getting thrown right back into it.” Derek sighed.

Hotch came out of his office and smiled at you before nodding at the others. “Wheels up in forty, everyone. I’ll brief you all on the plane.”

“Good.”

“Just breathe y/n. Okay? I’ll be the one at the end of the altar with the incredibly well-tailored suit and those flowers you like so much pinned to my chest.”

“You’re gonna cry.” You whispered jokingly, taking in a deeper breath than before. “I look so good in this dress. I actually was crying about it before I made Emily call you.”

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

Derek knocked on your door, leaning his ear up against it, trying to hear what you were saying. He called out your name, and after about a minute, you told him it was unlocked.

“Can I come in?”

“If you want Derek, it is entirely up to you.”

He opened the door, tears welling up the second he saw you.

Hearing him enter, you faced him, smiling softly at him.

All Derek could do was take you in for a second, unable to really think of what he was about to tell you. This felt a bit ridiculous since he was there when you picked out the dress, but watching you now, ready to actually wear it for its intended purpose, was a whole different ball game.

“You look…..”

“Right.” You whispered, walking over and squeezing his hand. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing before shit goes south.”

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n, You are the love of my life, and I could give you an eternal list of every single moment of my life where I felt nothing but complete and utter adoration for you. But then last week, you picked the movie you thought we should watch: a nineties rom-com, obviously, with big romantic gestures and a heroine who doesn’t need to be tamed. And those two inspired me to give you instead a list of the ten things I hate about you.”

Spencer had gotten a good look at you for the first time in a long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve and that you had broken up. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly, Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore. He hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know, Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation would go any better than that.”

Reid just nodded and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash.

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” with that, Hotch walked past Reid and down the stairs toward where he had assumed you had run off to.

Reid just returned to his desk, sitting and staring at your now empty desk. Hotch had fulfilled your request, letting you move across the bullpen so you didn’t have to sit next to him anymore.

Some part of the thought that you couldn’t even look at him anymore caused his gut to lurch, causing his hearing to burst for a moment. Maybe this was too fucked up. Perhaps he had been wrong. He thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go, not weighing you down with all his own bullshit, but he realized he had failed to pay attention.

Spencer thought long and hard, trying to piece together everything he had thought about in the past couple of months when it came to you, and that’s when he realized it was every day. He thought about you every day.

But he had ignored you. He had failed to notice as you crumbled to nothing in front of him.

“Number ten is that I hate the way you fold laundry. It’s incredible how you manage to fold every single item in a completely different manner. It baffles me. One of the great mysteries in this world that we might never have the answer to.”

“So you two spoke?”

You held up your finger as you finished the prosecco in your glass. Once you finished, casually, you picked up the bottle and poured yourself a second glass, only beginning to speak when the glass had been filled to your liking.

“He came over to my apartment, Derek. I had already opened the door, and what was I going to say—”

“How about no?”

“It’s rude to interrupt Derek Morgan.” Penelope elbowed him and took a sip from her own glass. “But he’s right, Y/n. You could have said no and slammed the door in his face.”

“But that’s not who I am. You know I’m a sucker for closure. You know I wanted to talk to him anyway. I just wasn’t expecting the discussion that ended up happening….”

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Do tell Princess.”

You shrugged and took another sip. “We talked about Maeve.”

The looks you received were exactly what you had expected, only because it was how you felt about the conversation.

“Number nine. I hate how you pick out what we will watch each week. You just skim through every single title on every platform until the one with the right ‘energy’ calls out to you. And they’re never the same. You manage to match a film to the night perfectly, and I hate how well you can pinpoint that about me.

“Eight. I hate the way you drive. You manage to be the safest and most dangerous person on the road. There’s nothing more to that one. You terrify me.”

“I cannot believe you, Spencer Reid. You have the audacity to come to my house, lose at chess, and then accuse me of being the reason our relationship ended!?”

“That’s not what I said.” His voice was desperate. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself, okay? I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I just—You were so–”

“I was so what, Spencer. What about me was just soooo fucking terrifying to you that you decided you didn’t want to propose to me anymore.”

“That’s not fair.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re fucked in the head if you think the part that isn’t fair is me calling you out on that.”

Spencer paced around, running his hands through his hair. He was going to wear a path in your carpet the way he was pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

“Seven. I hate how captivating you are. Whenever you tell a story, there’s no use in getting any work done because all anyone can do is wait for the story to be finished. If there’s no ending–I’ve watched Morgan sulk at his desk until you returned from a meeting because you were running late and didn’t wrap up the end of the story for him. Something about the way you speak, the way you capture people’s attention, is one of the most dangerous weapons I’ve ever seen on the planet.

“I hate—oh, sorry–Number six.” He smiled at you and squeezed your head. You were shaking slightly as you rapidly blinked away tears, trying to inhale and exhale through your nose. It wasn’t working. Every word this man said made you one second closer to jumping onto him and kissing him senseless. “I hate how smart you are. It’s ridiculous. You can argue so beautifully and eloquently that it makes anyone arguing against you look like a fucking idiot. You speak four fucking languages, making you invincible and even more aggravating since you’ve decided to start learning a fifth one. You have started to beat me every other game in chess, which is actually humiliating for me, and I can’t figure out how you’re doing it. You read everything under the sun and still manage to have a life, friends, and family. I don’t know anyone in the world who could compare to your intellect.”

“Five. I hate how you steal my chocolate-covered pretzels. I bought you a whole fucking cabinet’s worth, and somehow, mine still got eaten.”

You watched him give you a bit of a stink eye for that one, causing you to kiss his hand lightly. “My apologies.”

“You don’t mean it, and you know it.” He grumbled, flipping his page so that he could keep reading.

“I hate how beautiful you are. It’s distracting. I can’t work near you anymore because all I want to do is daydream about you. I want to watch you smile for the rest of my life if I can help it.”

“Three. I hate how much you care. It terrifies me how much you care about other people. I have seen you at your best and your worst moments.” You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I have seen the worst outcomes of cases we could ever imagine, or the best, and yet you put the same amount of effort and care into all of them. It’s infuriating because you put your life on the line constantly to be able to give people a chance, whether that be to save them from others or to save them from themselves. You are the most considerate person in the world, even to those who might not deserve it.”

This was not a good case.

It was never a ‘good case,’ but this one just sucked the absolute life out of you. You had been back for only a month, and it was going too well. You were on top of your game. You were better than ever—but you knew the other shoe would drop.

And it did.

You were never a big fan of getting shot at, but you would prefer that rather than have to escape a burning building. It was one of your biggest fears, and here it was, being realized.

You had managed to crawl down to the first floor before everything started to go black. He had sealed the windows. He had sprinkled broken glass along the stairs, causing you to rip open your legs and hands as you slid down the stairs. The more significant shards of glass shredding the back of your pants. It was fucking painful. But you had managed to make it to the kitchen.

That’s when you saw the firefighters bursting through doors, trying to contain the fire surrounding you. You could feel the burn on your skin as they pulled you out of the building, blood dripping down your legs and hands.

You must have been one fucked up sight for Hotch to drop everything he was doing and run over to you. But you wished he didn’t because the building behind you exploded. The flames must have hit the gas line, and the house came crashing down.

You were thrown back from the force, causing you to land on your back. Nothing was broken, nothing was sprained, but adding road rash and hearing loss to your ever-growing list of injuries was not fun.

Spencer and Hotch, who were shoved to the ground by the blast, scrambled over to you, where you were just lying on the ground, facing the sky, trying to breathe.

Maybe they were yelling your name or just trying to speak to you, but your head buzzed with the remnants of the explosion.

You watched as the sky above you filled with smoke and flickered with red hues. At some point, you saw Spencer come into your line of view. He was definitely mouthing your name.

Just then, like a wave crashing over you again, your hearing came back. Overwhelming could barely describe the feeling of shock running through your body. Your eyes widened as tears sprung to your eyes, your lungs gasping for air, and your mind flooded with adrenaline, with panic.

“Y/N. Hey. Listen to me. Hey.” Hotch had been trying to get you to sit up. He was going through his own internal panic attack—this scene was a little too close to NYC, to Kate.

Ambulance sirens blared, and you could hear a beam crash down and spur on the fire—” It hurts. So. Bad.” You finally managed to whisper, still gasping for air.

Reid wasn’t sure you were even registering that you were sobbing and that tears were racing down your cheeks.

“Can you sit up?”

“My hands.” You mumbled. “There-there was glass…so much…”

You flinched as Hotch yelled for a gurney.

“I need you to try and sit up, okay?” Spencer was next to you. He was on his hands and knees, slowly trying to gain your attention. There is a gentle touch on the arm here and a brush of your hair out of your eyes. He was just trying to give you peace, a breath amid everything going on.

“Spence.” You whined, flexing your hand, wincing when a tiny shard of glass shifted in your palm, causing even more pain.

“I know.” He said to you, gently taking your hand and wincing as he saw the microscopic shards scattered across your palm. “I need you to sit up for me.”

“Please don’t make me get up, Spence.” You whispered.

Hotch had moved away from the both of you, trying to clear a path so two EMTs could reach you.

“Once you sit up, I promise you won’t have to do anything else.”

You closed your eyes and let out a cry. It felt so relieving to just let whatever tension you had left in your body. But the thought of not doing anything sounded even better, so you slowly made your way to a sitting position, leaning against Spencer’s chest as he kissed your head and carefully ran his hand up and down your arm.

Spencer’s entire body relaxed into yours. He had never been more grateful that you could make it out of that building before…he didn’t want to think about what else would have happened. The two of you had just started talking again. You were hanging out. He would have never forgiven himself if he left things the way they were.

It felt wrong for him to be grateful at how much you got hurt because all of your limbs were still intact, and you were still conscious, still breathing. But he was thankful as he held you on the pavement, in the middle of the road, while everyone ran around you both.

You, on the other hand, were not happy to be sitting up. The adrenaline started to wear off, and your body was no longer buzzing. “Spence.” You whispered to him, trying to get his attention. You were nauseous, and the world was spinning. Everything was phasing in, and out of clarity, you could actually feel the earth rotating.

“Spence.” This time, it was said with more urgency. And it caught his attention. “I need to lie back down.”

“You can’t—”

“I’m gonna vomit.”

“Shit shit shit, okay, nausea is usually a sign of a concussion, a really bad one, most likely in the red zone—”

“Spencer, please.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and slumping against him, trying your best to hold down whatever you felt slowly creeping up your throat.

“I can’t let you lay back down.” He mumbled, turning you in his arms, prepping for whatever would come out.

Luckily for both of you, the two EMTs and Hotch had made it back over, bucket in hand, because Hotch had told them you most likely had a concussion. And god bless that stupid bucket because it managed to save some of your dignity by not throwing up all over the street. The EMTs had checked you out, flashing that stupid fucking light in your eyes, looking at your hands and doing their best to pull out some of the larger chunks of glass, and then helping to get you onto a gurney, and eventually into an ambulance to be shipped off to the nearest hospital.

Spencer was the only person you would allow to come with you in the ambulance.

“Two. I hate how well you know me and can read me like an open book. I have never met someone who knew me in the same way you could. You know things about me before I could even fathom the possibilities. You have been there for me in some of the darkest times of my life, and I would not have survived if it wasn’t for you. You picked me off the ground countless times, more than I could ever repay you for.”

“And last but not least. I hate how I can’t live without you. I hate that if you’re not in the same room as me, I can’t breathe. I hate how you manage to make my days filled with comfort, support, and love when sometimes I don’t deserve it. I hate when you go away to conferences, and I have to wake up to an empty bed, and the only thing that motivates me is the fact that I know you’ll text me as soon as you’re awake. I hate how you are the last person I want to see at night before I go to sleep. And I hate that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

You were fully crying, tears tracking down your cheeks, as you squeezed his hand tightly. You laughed slightly, trying to wipe away one of the stray tears, but he beat you to it, using his thumb to wipe away your tears gently.

“Did you just quote When Harry Met Sally at me?”

He smiled cheekily, handing the paper back to Derek, who put it in his pocket. “What else would I be able to quote at you? It was playing that night…”

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile across your face. You heard him whisper, “I love you,” but it still made your heart ache.

“Okay, Doctor Reid. Work your magic.”

“You make it sound like I’m performing a spell or something. I’m literally just fixing your computer.”

You snorted and shrugged. “Isn’t it you who always said that physics and magic are basically the same thing.”

“Okay, yes, but—”

“And computer science is a science, right?”

Spencer just rolled his eyes, realizing he would not win this argument, and began to futz with your desktop.

It had crashed on you while you were in the middle of a report. At home. In your pajamas.

This was a practice that was familiar to Spencer. Whenever you were working on something that was not classified or very sensitive information, you had gotten special clearance from Hotch to bring it home. So Spencer has seen you write up preliminary profiles for cases around the country in nothing but your pajamas many times.

Except he hasn’t seen you in just pajama shorts and a tank top since, well.

He was supposed to be focusing on the desktop, and that is what he is going to do.

“I really appreciate you coming over at like 10 pm, Spence. I really do. I’m sure you were busy, so I really appreciate it.”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “It was no trouble, really. Besides.” He turned back to the screen with a cheeky grin across his face. “I know how you get when something breaks.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you leaned against the kitchen counter. “Spencer. Are you…flirting with me…”

His face turned slightly red as he quickly faced the computer screen again. “And so what if I am,” he mumbled, focusing on the task at hand. He wasn’t sure how you managed to freeze your computer this badly, but he was determined to work it out.

You shrugged and checked your phone, looking at the text from Emily that you had chosen to ignore. Maybe she told you not to ask Spencer over. Maybe she had warned against moving too quickly with anything.

But you were a grown adult, you could make your own choices. You could—

“It’s, uh, it’s all fixed for you.” Spencer had stood up and was nervously fiddling with his hands. He hasn’t been like this towards you since you had both started dating over seven years ago.

You bit your lip and casually turned your phone on DnD.

“Thanks, Spence. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, doing his best to stop eying you up and down.

The two of you stood there, unsure of how to continue on with one another.

The tension was thick, almost like a humidity in the air that covered your skin and ruined your hair, just by stepping into it.

Spencer eventually broke eye contact and wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, I’m going to uh…Have a good night.” He quickly grabbed his bag from the counter and shut the door behind him.

Your hands dragged down your face as you sighed and shook your head. Maybe it was for the best that you two just stayed friends. Maybe it was for the best that you two never were in a relationship again. You remembered what happened last time. Maybe you should just finish the report and go to bed. Or maybe you should run after him. It wouldn’t be that embarrassing, considering he was staring back at you, right?

Who said you didn’t deserve to make a bad decision every now and again.

You grabbed your keys and slid on your slippers, not even bothering to grab a coat. You opened the door and came face to face with an out-of-breath Spencer just about to knock on your door. You took one look at each other.

And that’s when he reached down and brought your lips to his.

Emily reached over and gently handed you your vows.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You whispered, causing everyone around you to laugh softly at you, desperately trying to stop crying.

“I said I was going to try not to cry during his, and that obviously was not the case.” You slowly exhaled your lips, taking his hand and smiling up at him.

“Hey.” You whispered, causing him to whisper it back to you. “So–um. I wrote my vows a long time ago. Like, a while back. And I was looking for them and almost couldn’t find them. But I remembered that I had written them in that really small brown, leather journal thing that you got me for one of my birthdays that I kept losing because I always put it down and never remembered where.”

The small, collected group laughed together, watching you turn the page in that small brown leather journal.

“I didn’t know where I wanted to start when writing my vows. I knew how I wanted it to end, though. I’ve always known how I wanted my life to end and everything to go. So that’s what I did. I started at my endgame and worked my way backward. But shit happens, and life never goes according to plan. Never.”

He squeezed your hand.

Those weeks after were fucking brutal for you.

Relaxing was something you were never fantastic at, so having to take two weeks off to recover from your concussion, burns, cuts, and bruises was excruciating.

Maybe it would have been worse if a certain someone wasn’t basically living in your apartment with you, doing anything and everything to be there for you.

You woke up to freshly brewed coffee, sometimes breakfast if he wasn’t away on a case. Sometimes, he’d be home in time to make you both dinner. It felt oddly domestic for you, reminding you of before Maeve, before everything that had gone down over the phone.

Once the two weeks were over, he might have visited to check up on you. There would be nights where he would stay over just in case your head or back started to hurt again. It took more convincing for Spencer to let you go back to work than it did for your actual neurologist.

“Need I remind you I’m a doctor too, Spencer. I’m going back to work on Monday, meaning two over one, majority rules.”

Spencer scoffed and crossed his arms. “The lights will cause headaches, and staring at screens and files will only add to that. It’s a bad idea, y/n. Especially if we have to go somewhere, traveling across the country in a plane. You might as well knock yourself out because the air pressure would kill your head and ear drums.”

“Always the one for dramatics, aren’t we.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not being dramatic. I just care about your well-being, apparently more than you do—”

“Spence.”

“What.”

You kissed him softly. Just to shut him up. There were no ulterior motives. None.

He hummed, hands sliding around your waist, keeping you close to him as you broke the kiss.

That was another development you were keeping under wraps. The two of you might have decided to give it another shot. It had been over a month since you rejoined the BAU, and even before you got severely injured, Spencer had been doing everything he could to apologize. Whether that be his apologies or through his actions, he was stepping up.

But both of you had yet to outright tell the others. Emily knew something was going on, especially when you showed up to work in the same outfit two days in a row, but she had assumed you had seen someone else, not your ex.

You didn’t mind, though, when he took such good care of you when he bought you fresh flowers every week, when he kissed you past the point of breathing when he would—

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer whispered, interrupting whatever spiral you had started.

“What book I should read next.”

“Liar.” He squeezed your sides, laughing softly and kissing you again.

“There’s not much I can say about how life doesn’t go as planned since everyone here with us understands and knows how quickly life changes. But I realized that I need to have you by my side regardless of how it changes. I don’t want to be back in a place where I’m not with you because it just didn’t make any sense.”

“My vows are short because I would never make it through them if they were any longer.”

This caused another ripple of laughter throughout your friends, giving your fiancé a moment to wipe away another stray tear on your cheek.

“All of this to say.” You cleared your throat, but it didn’t stop the tears from clouding your vision. “Shit. Give me a second.”

Emily gave you a tissue, which you used to wipe under your eyes. You shook your hands slightly, trying to calm yourself down and shake out the rest of the emotions so that you could at least finish saying your vows.

“Having begun to love you, I love you forever—in all changes, in all disgraces, because you are yourself.”

Spencer beamed joyfully, realizing you followed his same path, quoting something you knew the other loved.

And suddenly, the stars aligned. A soft breeze picked up, and the world was quiet.

Everything was alright. Everything was okay.

And for that beautiful, brief moment, you had everything you could have ever asked for, and there was nothing you would have changed, nothing in the whole world that was worth the love and happiness you felt in this moment, beaming at Spencer as you both said

I do.

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

______________________________________________________________

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

WIBTA if I blocked my Zionist

“”friend”” after she gave condolences for my dog?

Content warnings: pet death, Zionism, genocide mentions

Hi. I’ll try to keep this brief and cohesive. So for some background, I (24F) gave this “friend” from middle school, let’s call her E (24F). We were best friends, but she moved away about halfway through our time in high school. She was from Israel, and not being as informed as I am now, I never thought that much of it. When she moved away, we stayed mutuals on social media, but didn’t chat much. She’d hit me up sometimes, usually after months would go by, and we’d chat a bit, but it would normally end with her disappearing again, and we both just went on with our lives.

Between 2021-2023, I ended up losing a lot of people. Falling outs, rifts, drama etc. Needless to say I don’t have many friends rn. So when she hit me up again at the beginning of 2023 and then later that summer (more consistency then usual), I was excited to reconnect with her. Then, Israel began it’s current violence and genocide in Gaza. Since the beginning of the violence, I took the time to learn more (and am still learning) about the injustices inflicted on the Palestinians by Israel for the past 75 years, and have kept up with Palestinian journalists like Motaz and Bisan on the current aggression that’s been taking place for the past 100 DAYS.

Now remember when I said E was Israeli? Yeaaa, and I brutally reminded of that. She was eating up and regurgitating the lies from Israel on her Instagram stories, blaming Hamas for everything etc. Meanwhile the rest of my feed was of horrific on the ground footage of innocent Palestinians being slaughtered simply for being Palestinian and for living on their land. I believe in the cause for a Free Palestine and an end to the Israeli occupation, and I resolved that a Zionist is not who I want to be friends with, and that I would unfollow E and cut contact.

But this is where I fucked up and am an AH - I stalled. I just restricted her and kept telling myself “I’ll get to it.” I’ll admit the nostalgia of our bond we used to have got the better of me, and I was taking my time cutting the contact cuz I was upset that I have to cut my losses with a connection AGAIN. So I stalled. And kept stalling.

Now this past weekend, my dog passed away. I posted a memorial post to my Instagram, and saw E commented her condolences. Which was nice, but I feel icky taking the sympathy from a Zionist, from someone who does not have sympathy for the lives of the innocent Palestinian men, women, and children being lost in Gaza. And most likely never will.

Since she’s restricted, I don’t think her comment is public. And I don’t want to accept it. Accepting it and responding would call all my support for the Palestinian cause into question. Hell, the fact that I stalled unfollowing her so long calls it into question already, I know that. But I also can’t ignore her forever.

So now comes the time to do what I should of done months ago. I have to unfollow her and block her. But a part of me still feels bad doing after she had sweet things to say about my late pet. I KNOW I’m already the AH for not unfollowing her already, but my query is, WIBTA to do so now after she offered her condolences, and to block her on top of that?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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criticallyinneedofadar · 4 months ago

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Alliance of Shadows (7)

A/N: We are more than halfway through our tale... What are we thinking? Are we enjoying ourselves so far?

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Warnings: Violence, war, anxiettyyyy

Word Count: 2.4k

Taglist: @zoya-olenko @annatartastic @oakenshielq @perse-cora

Previous - Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night of the siege hangs over the camp like a thick cloak, the sky painted a deep, ominous gray as the forces of Mordor and the Hidden Mountain stand poised for war. The two armies moved together in perfect synchrony—Uruks and mages working side by side, their cohesion almost unnatural, as if they had always been meant to fight as one. Even the air hums with energy, with magic and raw power swirling in anticipation.

But something gnaws at you. A sense of unease, subtle yet persistent, lingers at the edge of your awareness. You had spent the night preparing, weaving enchantments and spells into the armor of your soldiers, strengthening their resolve, yet the feeling will not leave. You can not shake the sensation that you are missing something—a shadow lurking just out of reach.

Adar stands at your side, his gaze steady as he surveys the battlefield. The quiet before the storm. His Uruks are ready, their eyes filled with a fierce loyalty to their father. Your own mages stand at attention, their minds sharpened, awaiting your command. But still, the feeling persists.

"Do you feel it?" you ask, your voice low, meant for Adar’s ears alone.

He gives a slight nod, his eyes narrowing. "There is a shadow, but I can’t place it. It could be the weight of battle approaching—or perhaps Sauron’s dark presence."

His words do little to soothe your worry, but you nod in return, trusting that whatever it is, you will face it together.

As the time to launch the assault nears, Adar sighs. His eyes, always so guarded, seem to soften just for a moment, though they do not leave the city in front of him and he speaks quietly, as if the words were meant to be shared in this one, fleeting moment of stillness.

“When I came to you asking for aid, I had little hope,” he admits, his voice raw in a way you have never heard before. “I was prepared to face rejection, or at best, a begrudging alliance. But instead, I found more than I dared to hope for.”

Your heart quickens at his words, but you remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“You are…,” he says carefully, his gaze suddenly holding yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. “Something I never expected to find. Should we survive this… You will always have a place by my side”

His words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. You feel the pull between you—dangerous, intoxicating, like the edge of a blade.

“I will consider it,” you reply softly, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “Though, truly I think you merely want the title King Consort.” Adar snorts, as though you had forced a small laugh out of him.

Before you can say anything more, the horns sound—deep, guttural, and unyielding—cutting through the night and signaling the start of the siege. The stillness shatters in an instant, replaced by the clamor of marching feet, the clanking of steel, and the roar of war drums. Torches flare to life, casting flickering shadows over the assembled armies, while the sky above seems to darken further as though the very stars are retreating from the violence about to unfold.

Adar stands tall before his Uruks, a father addressing his children before the greatest battle of their lives. His voice rises above the chaos, carrying with it the weight of years spent under oppression, of battles fought and lost, of scars worn not just on his body but in his very soul.

"My children," Adar begins, his voice low but resonant, commanding attention. "For too long, we have fought in the shadow of a master who never saw us as more than tools. For too long, we have bled for those who sought only to enslave us, to use us, to make us forget who we are. But tonight, we stand not as slaves, not as weapons forged by another’s hand—but as warriors, as free beings defending our home."

His words stir the air, a palpable energy rising among the Uruks. They hang on every word, eyes gleaming with fierce loyalty.

"Sauron thinks he can reclaim us," Adar growls, the disdain dripping from his tone. "But he underestimates the strength that courses through our veins, the fire that burns in our hearts. We are not the mindless creatures he once commanded. We are Uruks, forged in darkness, but destined for our own light!"

A cheer rises from the crowd, low and rumbling like the growl of an impending storm. Adar raises a hand for silence, his eyes scanning his army before landing on the mages who have joined their ranks.

"And tonight, we are not alone. With us stand our allies from the Hidden Mountain, mages of immense power—" Adar gestures to you and your warriors. "They will bring the forces of the elements and the very fabric of reality itself to our side. The elves and Sauron do not know what is coming for them. They expect us to be divided, broken, but they will be faced with something far greater than they have ever imagined. They will yield to us, or they will fall!"

The Uruks roar in unison, their voices echoing into the night. Adar’s ability to inspire his children—his unyielding belief in their strength—stirs the fire within you. His face, framed in torchlight as he stands proud before his forces, makes you long to pull him into your arms, never to let him go. For all his darkness, there is a nobility in him, a fierce love for those who follow him, for those he calls his children.

You step forward, your voice cutting through the noise, drawing the attention of your mages and the Uruks alike.

"Brothers and sisters," you begin, your gaze sweeping over the gathered warriors. "We have hidden in the shadows for too long, watching as this world forgot us, watching as it tore itself apart. But no more. Tonight, we fight not just for survival, but for our place in this world. A place we will carve out with our strength, with our magic, with our sheer will!"

The mages straightened, power thrumming through the air as they drew on the raw forces around them, ready for battle.

"We stand here alongside the Uruks, and together we are unstoppable. We will tear down their walls, break their lines, and claim what is ours. This is not just a fight for territory. This is a fight for our future. So let them come with their armies, their illusions of power. Let them face what they have never known—true strength, our strength!"

The armies before you erupt into a frenzy of cheers, the mages and Uruks unified in purpose. The air itself seems to hum with anticipation, the forces of magic and muscle combined into an unstoppable force.

Adar turns to you, his eyes shining with lust and power, a shared understanding of what is to come. He gives a nod, a silent agreement passing between you.

He raises his hand once more, commanding the attention of all. "Prepare the battering rams. Let the siege begin!"

With a sweeping gesture, Adar gives the signal, and the armies surge forward.

The first wave of Uruks surge forward, their war cries echoing as they charge toward Eregion’s gates. Your mages follow, hands raised as they chant in unison, sending dark spells to weaken the defenses, shifting the very earth beneath the enemy’s feet. The walls of Eregion tremble under the assault, and you feel the surge of power in your blood, driving you forward.

Adar leads his children with brutal efficiency, every swing of his blade precise and deadly. He is a force of nature, carving through the enemy with an elegance that belied the ferocity of his strikes. Your own power flows through you, bending reality to your will, turning enemy minds against them, shifting the battlefield into a distorted maze of illusions and traps.

But still, the dread lingers.

As the battle rages, chaos unfurls in every direction—screams, the clash of steel, and the thrum of magic weave into a deafening storm around you. Amidst the swirling carnage, you catch sight of him—Sauron. His dark, imposing figure moves through the battlefield like a wraith, his black armor gleaming under the dim light of the moon, a stark contrast to the blood and fire that splatters his path. His eyes burn with cold malice, and with every swing of his blade, Uruks and mages alike fall before him, their bodies crumpling under the sheer force of his power.

Your heart clenches as you watch him, this shadow from histories darkest memories, slicing through your forces with such ease, his movements terrifyingly precise. Adar sees him too, and without a word, the two of you begin moving toward him, weaving your way through the battlefield, your hearts pounding with the knowledge that this is the confrontation you had both been preparing for.

The distance closes, and finally, the three of you meet in the heart of the storm, where the fighting becomes background noise to the intensity of this moment. Around you, the armies churn like waves crashing against each other, but here, the air stills, heavy with the weight of what is to come.

Adar steps forward, his sword raised high, and it is as though time slows. His blade swings through the air, crashing against Sauron’s with a sound that reverberates across the battlefield, a thunderous clash of steel on steel that sends sparks flying into the night. Adar presses forward with fury and determination, each strike fueled by years of hatred and vengeance, but Sauron meets him blow for blow, his expression unbothered, his strength seemingly boundless.

You move quickly, weaving your magic into the fight, sending waves of energy through the ground beneath Sauron’s feet, disrupting his balance, warping the very air around him. The space bends as you channel your power, disorienting him, making it harder for him to move with his usual deadly precision. But even as your magic hums through the battlefield, you feel the weight of Sauron’s presence pressing down on you, like a tidal wave of darkness threatening to consume you whole.

Sauron’s gaze locks onto you, his molten eyes burning through the haze of war, and in that moment, it is as if the battlefield falls away, leaving only the two of you. His voice cuts through the din, dark and mocking. “You’ve aligned yourself with the father of monsters, Witch Queen,” he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “How far you’ve fallen.”

You meet his gaze, but you do not rise to the bait. Your hands glow with raw power, the energy vibrating in your bones as you push harder, bending the world around him, creating cracks in his perception, distorting his defenses. You twist the very fabric of reality itself, trying to pin him down, to slow his movements, to weaken his control over the battlefield.

But Sauron’s power is immense, relentless. His will presses against yours, pushing back as though your magic were nothing more than a fleeting annoyance. You grit your teeth, focusing harder, feeling the strain in every fiber of your being as you try to keep up the pressure.

Adar fights fiercely beside you, his sword a blur as he parries and counters each of Sauron’s brutal strikes. The two of them move like titans locked in combat, sparks flying with every blow, the sound of their swords clashing echoing through the battlefield.

Sauron’s gaze flickers back to you, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He knows. He feels the exhaustion creeping into your bones, the toll this battle is taking on you. You’re powerful, yes, but this? Holding him at bay while the war rages around you—it’s draining you. You can already feel your grip slipping, the effort of bending reality, of distorting the world itself, pulling you under.

“You cannot win,” Sauron murmurs, his voice low and insidious, echoing in your mind. “You’re nothing. A child playing with forces beyond her comprehension.”

His words echo in your ears, but you push them aside, focusing instead on your connection to the land, to the magic thrumming beneath your feet. You reach deeper, drawing more power from the earth, from the elements themselves, even as your vision blurs from the strain.

But you know, even as you fight, that you cannot hold him forever. Already, your limbs grow heavy, your energy dwindling as you both distract Sauron and fend off the elves that try to break through the battlefield to reach you.

Still, you fight. Still, you hold on.

Adar senses your fatigue, and he fights harder, his blows growing more vicious, more desperate as he pushes Sauron back, his dark eyes blazing with fury. For a brief moment, Sauron stumbles, caught off guard by a powerful strike from Adar, and you seize the opportunity. You pour every ounce of magic you have left into one final push, warping the ground beneath Sauron’s feet, sending a shockwave of power through the battlefield.

But Sauron is too strong. He recovers quickly, faster than you expected, and his eyes snap back to you, burning with rage.

“You think you can stop me?” he growls, his voice a deadly whisper. “I will tear your world apart, and you will watch as everything you love burns.”

His blade swings toward you, a blur of steel, and in that moment, time seems to slow. You barely have time to react, your heart pounding in your chest as the world narrows to the gleaming edge of Sauron’s sword.

And then Adar is there, his sword clashing with Sauron’s once more, blocking the blow meant for you. The force of their clash sends a shockwave through the ground, knocking you back, but you quickly regain your footing, your magic swirling around you like a storm as you prepare for the next strike.

Adar moves with deadly precision, his strikes relentless. But just as it seems you are gaining the upper hand, you catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye—Glûg.

At first, you think he has come to your aid- or that of his Lord Father. He moves swiftly, almost too quickly, sneaking through the chaos of the battlefield toward Adar. His blade gleams under the dim light. With horror, you realize the blade is aimed not at Sauron but at Adar’s unprotected back.

“Adar!” you scream, but the warning comes too late.

Glûg’s blade thrusts forward, and time seems to slow as you watch in horror. The sound of steel cutting through the air is deafening, and you are powerless to stop it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry. I couldn't resist a cliffhanger

#adar #adar rings of power #adar x you #adar x reader #adar fanfic #adar series #rings of power s2 #the rings of power #alliance of shadows #fanfiction

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gundamthey17 · 2 months ago

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Payneland Prompt Fest 2024

Day 1: “This was supposed to be fun.”

“This makes no sense,” Edwin muttered testily.

“Have you not been paying attention?” Crystal asked, her tone equally irritable.

“I have!”

“Then what part of this is confusing to you?”

“All of it! There’s no logic, there’s no rationale. It is entirely devoid of sense. It strains credulity to the breaking point.”

“Uh-oh,” Charles grinned, “he’s using big words. Now you’re really in trouble.”

“I fail to see the purpose of this exercise.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. This was supposed to be fun. My bad, I forgot Edwin’s allergic to fun.”

“I am not, I merely prefer narratives that have substance and cohesion. Not… whatever this is.”

“Guys! I can’t hear,” Niko complained.

Crystal paused the movie and leaned around Niko to face Edwin. “What exactly is your problem with it?”

“The narrative is not believable in the slightest. She has a lucrative and successful career in the city. Not to mention a fiance who is waiting for her! Why would she abandon her fiance, her career, and her home, for a man she only just met?”

“They didn’t just meet. They knew each other when they were kids. See? You weren’t listening.”

“That is entirely beside the point. She is engaged!”

“But this guy made her realize that she’s not really in love with her fiance.”

“She realized that in three days? How?”

Crystal threw up her arms in exasperation. “I don’t know, the magic of Christmas! It’s just a movie, Edwin. It’s entertaining.”

“It’s inane. Once this - this infatuation wears off, she is going to regret leaving her entire life behind to live in the small town that she was dreading returning to in the first place.”

Niko leaned back, looking past Edwin to catch Charles’s eye. “I knew we should’ve watched Elf.”

“You’re impossible! I guess falling in love was so much easier back when you were alive.” Crystal stood up. “I’m going to get more popcorn. And when I come back, there’s going to be no more talking during the movie.” She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she walked to the kitchen. “You’re just lucky you died before dating apps were invented.”

Edwin's brow furrowed, his annoyance temporarily forgotten. “What are… dating apps?” he asked, enunciating the unfamiliar words carefully.

Charles shrugged. “Beats me, mate.”

“They’re a way to meet new people who might want to date you. Or kill you. Or show you their creepy doll collection,” Niko said seriously.

“Ah,” Edwin said. “That sounds… awful.”

“Mm-hm.”

Charles stretched, wrapping an arm around Edwin’s shoulders. “Well, then. Like Crystal said, it’s a good deal you found me before dating apps existed.”

“I do not think ghosts can use dating apps.”

Charles snorted. “Not the point, mate.”

“Oh?” Edwin frowned. Then his eyes widened as the realization hit him. “Oh! You were flirting.” If he was capable of blushing, he would have.

“And the penny drops. Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it.” Charles nuzzled Edwin affectionately.

The sound of Crystal’s feet preceded her return, and Charles reluctantly let go of Edwin, who still wasn’t too keen on public displays of affection. (Though for some reason he was less self-conscious around Niko.) The boys were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch, with Niko on the other side of Edwin. Crystal returned with the bowl of popcorn and sat next to Niko.

Niko gasped, her eyes wide. “Maybe ghosts do use dating apps, and that’s where the word ‘ghosted’ comes from!”

“What are you - you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. And Edwin, since you hate this movie so much, you can pick the next one - as long as you stop complaining. Deal?”

“That is acceptable.”

“Good. Now everybody shut up, I’m pushing play.”

#paynelandpromptfest2024 #save dead boy detectives #payneland #fanfic #my writing #prompts #charles rowland #edwin payne #crystal palace #niko sasaki

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justalittlesolarpunk · 1 year ago

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Honestly I think if one thing could help solarpunk the most to become a cohesive movement where we all truly collaborate and look after one another, I think it would be if we stopped generalising.

Not all solarpunk art has to be art nouveau! Not all architecture has to be white stone and green glass in a western-style city! Not everyone is abled enough to just make by hand all the things they want or need that they currently purchase under the capitalist economy. Not everyone you meet on the internet is American (seriously guys, what’s with this assumption, I get it all the time even though I tell you I’m British in my bio). Not everyone wants to work the land or build turbines for a living.

A truly Solarpunk future is one where we speak different languages, employ a variety of techniques to work the land, provide for our material and spiritual needs and restore the environment. It’s open borders and community solidarity and sex worker justice and indigenous sovereignty. For some people it looks like a quiet rural life and for others it’s all about the bustle of a city full of reliable transit and accessible third spaces. It’s also about realism. Some things will be rarer because we will have had to massively slow down trade and shipping to decarbonise it - we’ll need to eat locally as much as possible. In utopia some disabled people will still need cars, so we need EVs despite their current imperfections.

There will likely be mosques, community centres, food forests, art galleries and hospitals. People will be trying their best. We’ll mess up. We can’t predict what will happen and we certainly can’t universalise one experience. And if Solarpunk is all about living out a prefigurative politics where you imagine you exist in a world already free, then it’s essential we try to practice that open-mindedness and lack of assumptions in our day to day interactions, in real life and on the internet

#solarpunk #environmentalism #community #diversity #bright future #social justice

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sysmedsaresexist · 4 months ago

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Sorry if this is annoying/you have been asked this already but we have been seeing more and more posts trying to deny that Alters/headmates are separate people and that they are actually just you but separated by amnesia barriers.

it’s very confusing to us since we have OSDD 1 and view ourselves as distinctly different people just inhabiting the same body

is that wrong of us to think? (We also get confused since a lot of said posts say it’s “scientifically accurate” but we have checked the DEM multiple times and talked to our therapist and we can’t seem to find where it says that headmates can’t be separate people)

I actually haven't been asked this in a long time.

First off, the "amnesia barriers" thing is an AI talking shit about nothing in Google results. It's inaccurate, and I wish it would go away. Dissociative barriers are not only caused by amnesia, and the result of them is not always amnesia, but that's me being pissy.

Now, as for how people view themselves.

You do you, boo ❤️

Fuck the haters.

I'm going to explain this as simply as possible. This is a very general overview.

The ToSD asserts that no one is born with an integrated sense of self. During normal, uninterrupted development, childrens' action and defense systems begin to cohesively work together to create... The person you would become, I suppose. You learn to prioritize your needs and wants and create plans for yourself using a cohesive set of thoughts. For example, you're hungry but also need a shower. Your experiences have shaped you to prioritize and perform actions in certain ways. Some people will eat first, then shower, some will shower first and eat second. And these decisions are influenced by the totality of all of your experiences.

In CDDs, these action systems become separated-- dissociated away, not hidden by amnesia. If your parents were particularly cruel around food, you may have pushed those needs away, and that action system develops within itself, beginning its own prioritization process. In many cases, we lose access to those systems, and they no longer play a normal part in our decision-making.

For many, we don't have any access to those parts that we originally rejected. Some parts become alters, some parts are just fragments, but we struggle to cohesively and strategically place those needs in our day to day lives. We struggle to communicate with those parts. They have drastically different wants and needs and priorities, and access to their own unique coping skills (that may or may not be good for the system as a whole).

At any given time, we only have full, cohesive access to parts of our lives, skills, techniques, needs, thoughts, the list keeps going.

This is "parts of a whole."

This is what parts language is.

It's what I believe and it's what's helped my system.

This does not have anything to do with how autonomous or individualized alters can become, how separate, how they view themselves.

Some people relate much more heavily to this particular framework, some can understand but don't like it applied to them, some don't feel it applies at all to their system.

It's a mechanism of how CDDs develop, and within this framework, you can use whatever language you prefer. Not all parts work is parts focused. Alters can see themselves as their own people, they can wish for their own lives and dream of having their own body. Therapists can and do empathize with these feelings, and they play no part in the success or failure of treatment.

Are you all working together to stay alive and keep out of jail? Does your whole system understand they share a body?

Yes? Great, you're good to go. Use whatever language feels right.

We are parts, but we're also people within our own rights, and that's okay.

It's a huge framework. Explore it.

#not syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #sysconversation #did #osdd #osddid #cdd system #cdds #dissociative identity disorder #parts language #tosd #plural #plurality #multiplicity #system safe #endogenic safe #pro endo #syspunk is appalled

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rommahh · 5 months ago

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[not me writing for Eddie. Its been so long since ive written, please bare with me.]

TW/ consumption of bad things and an overd0se.

He’s sitting on the bed, eyes low, head pounding. He’s in for the worst knowing he’s done something wrong. There's an overwhelming sense of fear that he's going to disappoint you.

He doesn’t want to disappoint you ever.

The door creaks open, rusty hinges giving away any intruder with a loud sound. The gross studio apartment is small; one bed in the corner of the room, three counters next to a stove and fridge, a tiny table where you shared dinners, a bathroom, and a small thrifted couch.

You don’t even notice Eddie’s sluggish form on the bed as you untie your laces and settle your suitcase. The long weekend away visiting your parents gave you the rest that you didn't realize you needed. They worried for you everyday. They thought you moved too fast with Eddie- too enamored by the big dreams and nice smile.

“Eddie the record store we used to go to got the coolest things in this weekend you should go with me next time…” Your voice trails off when you finally meet his body.

The room is too warm. Eddie is sweating under your gaze. The drugs all sit on the bedside table. Baggies open, lines have smeared on the old wood. An open can of whatever’s cheapest accompanies the pills.

The space around the bed is filthy. You could tell more than a few guests were over while you were away.

Eddie’s disgruntled at best. His shirt has a small vomit stain, hair is greasy, and his skin is pale. He was still your Eddie though. He looked just like you remember him to always be- the same boy from highschool with the biggest dreams.

The sight of him makes your chest cave in.

Eddie’s sniffles brake you out of your reverie. “Oh! It’s ok Ed! We can fix this.”

You’re rushing to his side ready to aid him in any way but he flinches away from you. The movement startles you. Dropping to your knees in front of him you search for his eyes.

“It’ll all be ok Ed’s. We can fix this. We can call my friend from the hospital again.” You’re naive to the situation, maybe too scared to actually absorb the weight of it. Eddie had gone too far this time. He didn’t need his girlfriend doting on him with a wet wash cloth. He needed real help.

“I cant do this anymore,” Eddie whispers. His hands shook on his lap. His favorite rings long gone from how much he’s slimmed down.

You shake your head staring at him. “I hear you. We will go down to the hospital right now, I’ll call Wayne to meet us.”

You’re on your feet in seconds. Eddie can hear you finding a duffle to fill with overnight essentials. He lets you have a moment, one optimistic moment. The moment doesn't last long enough.

“No,” he croaks out. He can’t even look at you.

“No?” You’re looking at him. His collarbones are visible. Had it always been this bad? Were you this oblivious to what was happening in front of you?

“Y/N I can’t do this anymore with you.”

You feel as if you heard him incorrectly. The room getting smaller, your lungs getting tighter. Maybe you’re dreaming? Maybe you’re the one on drugs?

“Eddie I don’t think I’m understanding you.” You’re slow to walk back over to him. Kneeling once again with his knees in your face.

“I cant keep doing this to you. You-you don’t need this,” he spits out. A spark of anger ignites in you.

“You don’t get to decide that," you softly scoff.

“I do…this is about me and what I want. I want to get better and I want you to live a better life without me dragging you down.” Despite the nature of the situation, you’ve never heard a more cohesive and honest statement from Eddie like this before.

“So what? You’re breaking up with me?” Your nose goes hot, it tingles. The back of your throat goes tight.

“I have to. Please don’t be mad,” he’s begging you. His eyes finally meet yours, red ablaze and teary.

There’s a silence. All you can hear are his deep breaths and your sniffles. Somehow your world was crashing down around you and you're the one who made the sacrifices to be here.

“I’ve already called Wayne…he’s on the way to get me. Told me he was able to get me a spot at that rehabilitation center.”

You fake a smile while shuffling back from him. The carpet is rough against the palms of your hands as you push yourself off of the ground. Your apartment felt smaller than it was.

This was all too much. For the past five years Eddie engulfed your life. You moved to a new city for him, took care of bills while he tried to make it with his music. You watched him get high and then hit his lows. You did everything for him. If you could sacrifice everything in your life for him, you would.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. Please don’t be upset at me. I’m so sorry for this.” He’s blubbering now. You cant help but feel bad for him- maybe it was a force of habit. He seemed like a child who just scraped their knee on the pavement.

Eddie wants to reach for you but he doesn’t. He thinks a hard end will make the pain less hurtful.

“It’s ok Eddie. I don’t understand it right now but…I’d do anything for you,” you pause, “if this feels right for you, so be it.” It was always about Eddie for you. Eddie couldn't watch the way that you tried to smile with quivering lips. With shaking hands you re-tie your shoe laces and grab your suitcase. There's a slight hesitation before you grab the door.

"I'll always be here for you Eddie."

The door slamming shut behind you rings in Eddies ears. Vomit crawls up the back of the throat and not because of his shot immune system. You consumed Eddie's entire life more than drugs and he let you go.

You enabled Eddie without even knowing it and he couldn't let himself enable you any longer.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson angst #stranger things #eddie munson #Eddie munson fluff #stranger things au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb

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starbabyg · 2 years ago

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pleaseeeeeee jack and trevor share her

Picture Perfect pt. 3 | Jack Hughes x reader x Trevor Zegras

part one and part two right hereeee

warnings; smut duh, the words cock and other funky words that make me squirm, jealous Jack , also a bit shitty writing lol

+++

Trevor couldn’t get you off his mind ever since that day. It’s all he could think of, the way your pussy gripped around Jack’s dick. The sound of your angelic moans. It was sick the way all of his thoughts were revolving around you. Trevor couldn’t even face Jack any more. He had been avoiding him at all costs, too scared he’d blurt out how he needed to fuck you to get you out of his head.

You walked out of your room and into the living room, seeing Jack playing a video game with his feet up on the coffee table. “Hey, isn’t it guy’s night shouldn’t you be at the lake house?”

“Yeah, but Trev said he couldn’t make it again. I think he’s doing that shit on purpose cause Cole told me he saw him the other day,” Jack responded, not looking up at you. He had a rough demeanor about it, but inside Jack was just a bit hurt that it seemed like his best friend was avoiding him.

“Is he mad at you or something?” You made your way to the kitchen island, grabbing a mandarin and peeling it to snack on.

“Can’t be, I didn’t do shit to him. And I mean it this time.”

“Well when was the last time you even saw him?”

“That one weekend he came over and watched us fuck. Told me he’d call me to chill afterwards, never did,” he shrugged.

“You don’t think he was weirded out by the situation? Like at least a little bit? I mean he did watch us have sex,” you concluded.

Jack recollected the event, he knew Trevor was nervous about it but he didn’t think that he would be weirded out by it, “I don’t fucken know, I thought we were close enough for that. We’ve joked about it before, banging groupies together— all before I met you of course.”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded. “Still, it was a hypothetical situation. And I’m your girlfriend, Jack. Not a groupie you’re never going to see again. It adds a certain nuance to the situation don’t you think?”

Your words made Jack think deeply, and one thing about Jack is he hates getting deep in his thoughts. He furrowed his brows, what you said confusing him just a bit. “Yeah I guess that’s true. But whatever, I’m just gonna confront him and ask him why he’s being like this.” Jack got up from his spot, putting his slides on and grabbing his keys. If Trevor was going to avoid him the only thing he could do was be right there where he had no choice but to see Jack.

“Stupid Trevor avoiding me like a weirdo. Making me drive to his house cause he wants to be lame. Funky ass missing guys night again,” Jack grumbled the whole drive to Trevor’s place.

When Jack arrived to Trevor’s place he was less upset and more hurt by the fact his best friend hadn’t responded to his texts or calls. That it had really got to the point where he had to actually drive to his house to see him face to face. Nevertheless he knocked, picking his posture up and preparing himself for the confrontation.

“Yo–” Trevor opened the door with a smile on his face, which faded with the sight of a less than happy Jack on the other side of the door. “Oh, what’s up Jack,” he now monotonously greeted.

“What’s up? That’s all you gotta say bro?” Jack started off, his hurt feelings getting to him, “You’ve been flaking on me. Not answering my calls or texts. Just straight up dodging me. What’s up with you?” At that moment he sounded like a heartbroken girlfriend, but at that moment he was.

Trevor was taken a back just a bit, but fully understood where Jack was coming from. “It’s just that I um, I’ve just been—“ he stuttered and stammered, not being able to form a cohesive sentence.

“You’ve what? Whatever it is, it just sucks you’re not able to communicate it with me. Being as we’re like best friends and all,” Jack spoke vulnerably, something he had taken up from you.

Trevor sighed, the words resonating with him. He realized he just had to face the problem head on, and tell Jack what was going on in his head. “Listen,” Trevor looked down, not being able to look Jack in the eyes, “It’s hard for me to tell you this. I never in a million years thought I’d be in this situation. Ever. Like ever. It makes me sick just thinking about it. But, watching you fuck y/n was a huge mistake.”

“Was it too much for you? She told me you probably thought I was weird, god I’m embarrassed—“

Trevor cut him off, “No, no. It’s not that. Like at all. It’s just that you were right about everything you said. About y/n,” Trev took a deep breath to muster up courage and to finish, “So right to the point that I can’t get her out of my head. Just seeing the way she fucked you and shit. It’s been stuck on my mind. I’ve never seen no one fuck like that ever in my life. And you know how many girls I’ve fucked.”

Jack didn’t know how to react or respond. Yeah, he was proud of you because he knew you were the top of the top, cream of the crop. But also, his best friend was lusting after you, his girlfriend.

“So you gotta crush on y/n?”

“I don’t know if you can say crush, she’s a great girl and all but I know you two are meant for each other. It’s just, she has that sexual prowess. If anything it’s like a fuck crush.”

“A fuck crush,” Jack raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what Trevor just said. The entire situation was difficult for him to comprehend.

“Yeah. Not to objectify her or anything. But she just looked so fucking amazing fucking you.”

Jack pursed his lips, “So if I let you fuck her can you stop being weird?”

“Wait, what did you just say?” Trevor had to double take, cause after everything, he knows Jack didn’t say what he just said.

“If I let you fuck her, can you stop being weird,” Jack drew out his words.

“No way. I’m not going to fuck your girlfriend and no way you’re actually going to let me fuck her just like that.”

“If it’ll make you get over whatever the hell a fuck crush is, then yeah. Get her out of your system so we can be cool again. I don’t wanna lose my best friend over some petty shit like this, cmon Trev.”

“Jack, listen to what you’re saying. Are you really going to let me fuck your girlfriend.”

“I’m not all too keen about you taking her all by yourself. Not no cuck shit. But remember when we always talked about tag teaming a girl?”

“Yeah, I kinda remember,” he recalled all the conversations from when they both first got into the league, bragging about all the pussy they were gonna get.

“Well, how about a threesome with my girlfriend,” Jack proposed, “God it makes me sick just thinking about it. But if there’s anyone I would have a threesome with it’d be you.”

“Jesus Jack, you’ve put me in a sick situation. A sick sick situation. I wanna say yes but I wanna say no.”

“Like I said, if this is what it takes for shit to go back to normal I’m all for it,” Jack sighed.

“You sure that you’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be, In this moment. I might come to regret it but you know my dumb ass just lives in the moment,” shaking his head, Jack tried to push all negative thoughts away.

Trevor contemplated, because the first time he said yes to one of Jack’s asinine ideas he got put in this situation. But still, he just couldn’t get you out of his mind. His body was feening to feel yours against his. To feel you ride him the way you rode Jack. It was driving him borderline insane. The whole situation was a catch 22 for him.

“Are you sure y/n even wants this? I mean look at the position we put her in,” classic Trevor, always worried about you where Jack had always been mindless.

“You saw the way she was about to go down on you. Seems like we’re all consenting in this situation.” He recalled the way you so easily crawled over to Trevor without a second thought, about to take him inside your mouth just as you would with him. It sparked a tinge of jealousy in him, but at the same time also turned him on seeing you from another point of view.

“I just don’t want this to make shit even more weird than it already is. I know how much you love her and you know how much I love you.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I trust both of you to even do any of this shit. We’ve been best friends since like forever, and to be honest I’ve never been in love with someone as much as I’m in love with y/n. And I’m the one who put us all in this place, being the show off I am. Can’t bitch out now.”

“Jack, if this goes south I’m literally gonna kill myself. I’m already dead inside from shame and embarrassment,” Trev spoke with his eyes squeezed shut. It was still difficult for him to look Jack in his eyes.

“Jesus Zegras, don’t be so morbid.”

So right then and there Jack and Trevor set a day for the threesome. With Trevor freaking out the whole time, and Jack trying to calm him down, you were clueless to the whole ordeal.

It was a Friday evening, Jack running errands and you taking the day off from the hectic week. You laid in the king sized bed the two of you shared, only in one of Jack’s oversized graphic tee shirts and a pair of lace panties that you so loved to adorn.

“Hey princess,” you felt Jack’s hand run up your bare leg. Your eyes fluttered open, still adjusting to your surroundings. Everything was always hazy when you first woke up.

“Hi my love,” you sleepily smiled at him. You turned so you were no longer on your side, but leaning your back against the headboard. Still blinking to adjust, you could now make out another person in the room.

“How was your little nap? You still look sleepy my little love bug,” Jack smiled at you. He loved how you looked when you first woke up, always with a look of clueless confusion, brows upturned and bottom lip stuck out just a bit.

“It was fine, hadda nice dream. Probably coulda slept through the whole night I was so comfortable,” you rubbed your eye and stretched as you finally started to actually wake up.

“Yeah? I got someone here who wants to see you though,” he told you, his thumb still rubbing that spot on your leg.

“Huh? Who?” You turned, seeing Trevor stand idly by the door, “Oh hey Trevor, long time no see. How you been?” You softly smiled up at him.

“Hey y/n,” he timidly waved. Seeing you in person sucked every ounce of courage that was inside of him. If he was nervous before, now he was a complete wreck. He tried to mask it by mustering up a half smile.

“Trevor’s been feeling some type of way,” Jack started.

“Hm? What d’ya mean?” You questioned confused.

Jack looked towards him, not being able to tell you himself, from lack of words to say it or refusal, no one knows.

“Jack, I can’t say it,” Trev shook his head. Between you and Jack, it was just too much to be put on the spot and confess how you had him feeling.

Jack stood up, “Well, I’m gonna get a drink. I’ll be right back. Give you some space.” This wasn’t just for Trevor to finally relay how he feels about you. Jack himself just couldn’t stand to be in the room while it happened. He knew what was about to go down, yet his possessive instincts kicked in. He had to at least be a little tipsy before consciously going through with another one of his crazy ideas.

“Are you like, grossed out by me or something? That I could actually go through with fucking Jack in front of you? Do you look at me differently now?”

“Yes, I look at you differently.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“But not in that way. Y/n, I just can’t seem to get you out of my head. Ever since I saw you fuck Jack, I just can’t. I’ve had this sick craving, I needed to feel what Jack felt. It makes me sick that I can’t feel you bounce on my cock, that I can’t just flip you over and fuck you how Jack did. I just can’t stand not being able to experience you like that,” finally all the words spilled from his brain and out for you to hear. “And I know I shouldn’t feel this way because you’re my best friends girlfriend, that’s why I’ve been avoiding Jack. Because of you. Because I can’t have you the way I want to. The way I need to.”

“Trevor, I–”

“It’s fine y/n. You don’t have to try and let me down easy. Jack wanted to bring me here to get you out of my system but this is another insane idea I just can’t go through with and put you through.” Trevor turned hastily to get out of there as quickly as possible.

You shot up as fast as you could and grabbed Trev by his arm, pulling him back into the room. “No Trevor, I was gonna say I can help you get over me. Guys always get over it once they get what they want right?” You softly chuckled.

Trevor sighed, “Y/n I don’t want you to think of it like that. I really like you, you’re perfect for Jack. I– just don’t know where this sudden infatuation came from.”

“I know Trev, it doesn’t have to be that way. Let’s just get this over with and forget it all happened mm?” You tilted your head, your hand that grabbed him now making its way up his tricep. The way Trevor talked about this situation, how he viewed you now, sparked something tantalizing inside of you.

“W-what about Jack?”

“Well we’ll just have to get his blessing, right?” You pulled Trevor out of the room, to where Jack was seated on the kitchen island, beer in hand. “Jacky baby, is it alright if I get to play with Trev tonight? That is what you brought him over for right?”

Jack took a deep gulp, he hated the words that came out of your mouth but he loved the sultry way that you spoke him, he couldn’t stop himself from breathlessly staring and nodding. Just like Trevor, he too was trapped under your siren spell. You could never do anything without Jack, so you gripped him by his wrist and yanked him up from his solitude. You’d need the space of the big California king bed for the three of you.

“I think it’s only fair that Trevor gets to undress me,” grabbing his hands, you set them at the hem of the large tee shirt you wore. There really wasn’t much for him to strip your body off. Trevor’s breath hitched, this really was the moment, he’s finally getting what he wanted. Slowly he lifted the shirt up, your arms raised. Jack sat there with anticipation, palming himself through his sweatpants. So this is what it looks like to the neighbors huh. He was loving this point of view, seeing you in another light.

Now just standing in your bra, panties, and knee high socks, Trevor’s brain had flipped a switch. It’s as if his brain went feral, urging him to grab your supple breasts. He cupped them, feeling the fullness of them in his palms, squeezing them, the flesh filling in the gaps between his fingers.

“Screw this bra, it needs to go now,” he mumbled under his breath. Trevor reached around to your backside, feeling for the hooks. Trevor fumbled with it, trying to use one hand to unhook it was proving difficult. Jack saw this, and he himself started to get impatient.

“You’re taking too long, let me do it,” he smacked his lips together, slightly shoving Trevor out of the way. Swiftly, with one hand Jack had unlatched your bra, with the straps falling off your dainty shoulders. Jack smirked at Trevor, who only looked back with his mouth agape. “Perfect titties.”

“Mhmm,” Trevor agreed with Jack, bending down and taking one in his mouth. Trevor started sucking it softly, the feather like sensation causing you to gasp. Seeing that Trevor could get that kind of reaction out of you made Jack grow a tinge jealous. Although it was all turning him on, he was feeling that bit possessive feeling over you. Jack planted himself onto your other boob, suctioning to it with pressure.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as Jack gently rolled your nipple in between his teeth. The slight pain mixed with the intense pleasure sent shocks through your body. Where Jack was going rough, Trevor went soft. With the slightest touch of his tongue he flicked it in all the right places around your areola. Starting with the bottom, swinging around the top, then making a full circle around the whole nipple. The two differing pressures started to make your vision hazy, your legs starting to buckle and give out. Sensing this, and knowing your body, Jack went behind you, now supporting your weight as your naked body pressed against him. Jack moved your hair to one side out of the way and pressed kisses from the nape of your neck upwards. One hand held your waist, the other gripping the bare flesh of your boob, rolling the nipple between his index and middle finger.

Seeing Jack supporting the upper portion of your body, Trevor kneeled down, planting a kiss to your clit as he placed himself in between your legs, putting both knees on his shoulders and hoisting you up. With your body now in the air, lifted up by the two boys, Trevor began to lap his tongue on your pussy, licking up your labia and up to the crown of your clit. You squirmed, your legs locking around his neck. The feather like kitten licks so slight and so gentle, although it wasn’t a lot of pressure it stimulated your bundle of nerves in all the right ways. With Trev’s hands on your backside he started to grip and grab at the flesh of your bottom before taking his right hand to insert two fingers inside your vulva. He curled his fingers down, caving into the floor of your silky walls.

All Jack could hear was the slurps of Trevor’s mouth and the squelching sound of your pussy, and quite frankly he was becoming a bit bratty that he didn’t get to be in any of the action. Jack pulled your body back, the two of you falling on the bed before he elevated your body to fit right between his legs, your back reclining on his chest. Jack padded his fingers along your stomach just before going to touch your lower lips. The temperature change from Trevor’s warm mouth to Jack’s cold fingers contrasting greatly. Starting off at a normal pace but quickly picking it up, Jack was determined to make you feel better than Trevor could.

“C’mon princess, I know you feel it, let it out,” he smirked. Knowing last time Trevor didn’t truly get the full Y/n experience. Trevor just quizzically looked, what the hell did Jack mean? Anyways, Trevor was focused on you, watching how your body reacted to the brash touch. Your toes curling up, your legs twitching. Trevor made his way up your legs, planting kisses from the tops of your feet all the way up to your thighs.

At this time Jack had both hands playing with your princess parts, his dominant hand gliding in and out of you as his other toyed with your clit. With all of this touch you were getting overstimulated, and fully well knew what Jack meant from that statement. You felt the buildup in your lower stomach, and it was getting to the point where you couldn’t contain yourself.

“Oh my fuck, I’m gonna– I’m gonna,” you breathlessly tried to get out before you squirted, Jack pulling his fingers out at the right time as you ejaculated juices that covered the bed sheets, and subsequently got a bit on Trevor as well.

“No fucking way, did you just-,” Trevor gaped in awe. Throughout his multitude of bodies he had never once met a girl who could squirt, only seeing it in videos.

“Mmhmm, just gotta play with her in all the right ways and she’s your own little waterfall,” Jack smugly boasted, proud of himself that at least he was the only one who could get you like that.

You turned around, now on your knees as you kissed Jack intensely, “I think baby deserves a treat for himself now huh,” you lowered yourself down his body, peppering kisses as you made your way to his dick. Swirling your tongue around the tip and head, you then took his full member in your mouth and started to bob up and down.

Your ass stuck out in the air vulnerably, Trevor smacked it, surely leaving a hand print, before diving in and eating it from the back. This took you by surprise, making you lurch forward and causing you to take more of Jack in your mouth.

“I think she needs to be stuffed from both ends, huh Jack,” Trevor grunted, now wanting—no, needing– to bury himself deep inside your walls. Too preoccupied with getting deepthroated, Jack just nodded and groaned out what sounded like a grumble of a yes.

Trevor pulled down his shorts, his dick now throbbing from how hard it had been this whole time. He rubbed the head from the fore and aft of your vagina before easily sliding it in.

“Is’so slick and wet. Just slid right in,” Trevor softly murmured, starting off with slow measured strokes. His hand laid on your ass as he watched his dick glide in and out of you. In this moment he was awestruck, he finally was able to feel what he was only able to daydream about. He relished in the moment, knowing this would be his only chance to feel your insides.

Wanting more pressure, you backed yourself up against his cock, your plump ass bouncing as you rocked forward and backwards. Every time you moved up, your throat taking more of Jack’s dick. Trevor bit his lip, he loved the way you took initiative, but in the moment he was much more hungrier for more friction. Trevor grabbed your hips, ramming his cock in you as deep as he could. You squealed, surprised at the tempo Trevor had now started to go. Your ass was now clapping loudly against his front side. He then grabbed you by your neck, pulling you up so your back was pressed against him and your head tilted in the crook of his neck.

Trevor’s hands roamed all over your body, a squeeze to your tit, soft touches on your belly, all before his hands made their way down to your punani. He played with your folds, just embracing the slick wetness you were secreting.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” your eyes were rolling back, hands gripped to Trevor’s arms. Jack glared at the two of you, he felt like Trevor was being pretty selfish by not sharing you.

“It’s my turn,” Jack snarled, roughly pulling you down, Trevor slipping right out of you. Jack spread your legs out, aligned himself with you, and jammed himself inside. All regards were out there window, he had to make you feel just as good as Trevor did, maybe even better.

A few strokes in he brought your legs together, straightening them up and having them rest on him, making you feel tighter for him. Jack rhythmically pounded you, on arm securing your legs to its position rested on his chest, his other hand holding you by your waist. Trevor stood over you, stroking himself as he watched you scream in pleasure.

“Hey pretty girl, stroke this for me why don’t you,” Trevor lowered his bottom half to you, letting you grab his member. You pulled him closer to you, rubbing his cock as you started to lick his under shaft and balls. Trevor’s head fell back, a nice deep grunt leaving his mouth. To you it was simple things, but to him he had never had a girl do these kind of things to him. “Fuuuuuuck y/n that feels amazing.”

At that point Trev needed to feel the inside of your whatever, almost to the point of climaxing. Your mouth, your pussy, hell if he could fuck your bellybutton he would.

“Bend her over the bed, I gotta feel her I’m bouta finish,” his breaths were hitched. Jack listened, knowing after this was over he’d finally get you all to himself again and this would all be behind you three. Never have to share you again as greedy as he is.

Jack stuck your taut ass out, your elbows rested on the edge of the bed as he pushed you faced down. He smacked your ass, leaving his imprint before looking at Trevor, “Go for it brother.”

Trevor positioned himself behind you, jiggling your ass a bit before inserting himself inside you once again. Jack got in front, about to face fuck you into oblivion. With his hands planted to your hips, Trevor began to snap himself into you, a nice pace so he can ride this dream out as long as he physically could. You looked back at him, mouth agape moaning as you started to fuck him back, grinding yourself against him.

Jack didn’t appreciate himself being left out, and grabbed your face just a biiiit too forcefully, opening your jaw and jamming himself inside your moist mouth. He held your hair back, one hand under your chin as he shoved as much of himself between your lips as you can take. You started to gag, and with this your walls tightening as well. With your walls tightening with every time you choked, Trevor got closer and closer to his orgasm.

“Oh shit– I’m gonna fucken,” Trevor couldn’t even finish his statement before he swiftly pulled himself out of you and finished right on your ass. “Fuck.” Trevor looked at the mess he made on your backside, he spent all that time backed up that it coated most of your ass, dripping down the sides. Jack himself was close as well, having restrained himself not wanting to finish before Trevor, and only took a few more strokes inside your mouth before he warned you.

“Get ready baby I’m gonna cum,” he brushed your hair a bit, relief in his voice. Soon you felt his warm seed coat the inside of your mouth, with you sucking his tip to drain him. Jack pulled himself out of you, your mouth closing with a ‘pop’ as you licked your lips. You swallowed, cause Jack did not train a spitter, and opened your mouth to show Jack you swallowed every drop. “That’s my good girl.” He smiled with approval.

Trevor got himself dressed as Jack got a baby wipe to clean you up. “Well, that settles it. Y/n thank you for the great fuck, Hughes, I’m never being nosy again, see you at the lake house this weekend?” Trevor laughed, dapping Jack up.

“Of course bro, I knew this would fix you being weird. Back to normal, and I know no more crazy ass ideas from me either,” Jack brought him in for a hug.

“Yeah, for real. Imma get goin tho, practice tomorrow and let you two love birds sit in that after sex bliss, see y’all,” he pointed to you both, before exiting out of the room.

“Bye Trev!” You shouted tiredly, worn out. He waved back at you one last time before he was finally out of Jack and yours sight.

Trevor closed your front door, making sure to lock it behind him. He rested his back on the door, letting out a big sigh. That had sealed it, and had turned out just how he expected it to. Fucking you had only made his crush worse, and now he had to hide it for the rest of his life.

“What the hell am I going to do now?”

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