#every scene between them felt like there was history

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 7 - Girl of The Season | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

You went out to dinner with Jack, Noah, Trent, and a few more of their friends. At first you didn’t want to go but Trent texted you that he better see you tonight. It made you giddy when he followed up...

It was sweet, playful, and everything you’d wanted. The night had started with excitement, a thrill of anticipation as you’d read more of Trent’s message telling you he’d have a hard time keeping his hands off you. It all had you feeling like a schoolgirl. You’d gone out thinking it’d be fun—a way to let loose and enjoy the easy chemistry that had been brewing between you and Trent, even with everyone else around. You imagined the night like any other was lately, filled with laughter and stolen glances that no one else would notice. The evening buzzed with energy, drinks flowing and stories spinning across the table. The group banter was easy, familiar. But as you sat at the table, laughing along to their stories, everything changed in an instant. One boy looked at Trent and asked a question that’s intent was harmless but catastrophic to you. 

“Bro, so who's the girl of the season right now?” The question was referring to something you didn’t know about. It hung in the air, a casual laugh among them, but it made you freeze. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to react to something you didn’t quite understand. Trent shifted in his seat, letting out a small laugh as he shrugged it off, but the other boys egged him on, teasing him as if they were letting you in on some kind of inside joke. Trent couldn’t do anything but let it play out. He felt helpless and stupid at the mercy of his own history. You knew Trent got with plenty of other girls before you but you had no idea it was so routine. That he’d apparently find a girl ahead of each football season began so he’d have someone locked in for when he was away and because he’d be too busy to go out and find someone- it was convenience not love. 

“Yeah, just share her now, mate. Or is she not locked in yet” Noah laughed. They kept laughing and adding to it, casually throwing around details as if this ritual was common knowledge, as if finding a girl for convenience was routine. It felt hollow, the notion that Trent had a pattern, that every season he had someone by his side just as a placeholder for when he was busy.

“Girl of the season huh?” You quipped with a raised brow. You felt sick but presented just teasing.  You tried to keep your tone light, even though your pulse was racing. You looked to Trent for clarity, a reassurance he didn’t immediately give. The boys kept talking. Even Jack joining asking if it was maybe going to be the girl he rejected i.e you. i.e the girl Trent had told them about after your incident at the club. Your heart sank, you wanted to cry but you bit back tears and spoke up once more. Inside you felt horrible. Were you merely his ‘girl or the season?’ “So… is there a contract?” you asked, sarcasm laced in your voice. “When’s the deadline day?” You quipped. But the weight of the situation bore down on you, leaving you feeling like you were nothing more than an option, something temporary. You were trying to join the banter just to survive, even though you were crumbling inside.

“Y/N it’s not that serious, the transfer window is always open” one boy laughed. All the boys laughed, not sensing the discomfort behind your smile. They couldn’t possibly know this information hurt you. They didn’t know everything that had happened behind closed doors.

“Yeah, it’s rolling. I was just curious because Trenty usually has his girl locked in by this point. Season’s started. You know a lucky lady to keep him… entertained,” Noah laughed, the others nodding in agreement. “She’s lucky… and convenient. He’s a busy man, after all.” He joked further. You felt the blood drain from your face, but you forced a smile. 

“Is it now? Wow… sounds really really good for you ” you sarcastically quipped. 

“Nah, lads relax… it’s not.” Trent tried to stop this. He could feel your tension even though it wasn’t showing on your composed face. Trent cut in, sensing the shift, his voice softening as he tried to redirect the conversation. His eyes flicked over you with a trace of panic and concern but most of all guilt. But the boys continued, chuckling about his past conquests, reeling off names as if recounting game stats. 

“Yeah remember the year you won the Champions league you were cooking with girls. Lol.  Michele, Keely, Taylor…” Noah added. It was a boys dinner and suddenly you realized that and they didn’t. Noah forgot about the obvious crush you had on Trent. Noah meant no harm but this was making you sick. The illusion of intimacy shattered in your mind, leaving raw insecurity and a sudden urge to escape. Trent sensed it, reaching for your hand under the table, a dangerous move but it was the only thing he could do, his touch gentle, but you pulled back, suddenly feeling exposed. Trying to keep your composure, you excused yourself and walked quickly to the bathroom. Your hands shook as you closed the door, the glossy, tiled walls offering little comfort. The hurt hit you all at once, and you sank onto the floor, your breath hitching as you tried to hold back tears, feeling crushed under the weight of it all. The thought that you’d been so easily slotted into a role in his life—temporary, interchangeable, convenient—cut deeper than you’d imagined. Had you let yourself believe you were different to him? That you mattered more?  In the solitude of the bathroom, the truth crashed over you in waves. It wasn’t just that he had been with other girls before—of course he had. But this casual talk, the way they all laughed as if his relationships were nothing more than placeholders, as if this ‘girl of the season’ title was just part of the cycle… it made you feel disposable. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hot tears blurring your vision. You felt naive, stupid even, for letting yourself fall for someone who’d apparently seen you as convenient. For thinking you were different. It felt foolish to imagine you could hold a place in his life that was anything more than temporary. In the cold, sterile quiet of the bathroom, you replayed every tender moment you’d shared with Trent, every laugh, every late-night conversation, every quiet touch that had felt so real. And now, it felt like it had all been a facade. How could you have been so naive?

After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, standing up and dabbing at your eyes. You couldn’t hide out forever, no matter how much you wanted to. You checked your reflection, steeling yourself, and returned to the table, forcing a breezy smile as you slid back into your seat, a mask of indifference firmly in place. But as you settled in, Trent’s gaze caught yours, worry etched across his face. He’d seen the hurt lingering in your eyes, even as you tried to hide it. The question of whether he cared—whether he’d ever care as deeply as you did—hung between you, unspoken but heavy. And in that moment, you realized you didn’t want to be anyone’s ‘girl of the season.’ Not even his. Trent looked at you, his gaze intense, worry etched into his features. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t do anything and you loathed him for it. You averted your eyes, focusing instead on your drink, anything to avoid his gaze. Your heart was screaming that you weren’t. You’d wanted so badly for him to see you as more, for what you had together to mean something real. And now, you weren’t sure if it ever could. 

The night had unraveled faster than you could process, and the hurt simmered, sharp and bitter, as the dinner ended. You didn’t look at Trent once more the rest of the night, you completely ignored him. Trent’s presence had been an ache next to you that you ignored, refusing to look his way, refusing to acknowledge him as if somehow that might make the pain hurt less. You were barely holding it together when you all stood up to leave. The others filed out, laughing and talking, but you pulled Jack aside and asked if he could drive you to Layla’s instead. Jack chuckled, a teasing grin on his face. 

“Why did Trent even buy you that car if I’m always the one driving you around?” he teased, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you. You forced a smile, ready to brush it off, but Trent stepped in, his voice firm.

“I’m heading that way, Y/N. Let me drop you at Lay’s,” he said. You snapped back a quick ‘No,’ trying to keep your tone dismissive, trying to make it sound like you just didn’t want to be a bother. But Jack insisted, scoffed teasingly,  rolling his eyes.

“Go with him, Y/N. I don’t want to drive across town,” he said, half-joking, his car keys dangling in his hand as he made a show of locking his car door to prevent you from climbing in. Frustration bubbled up, and you were close to tears, caught between trying to hold it together and wanting to break down. 

“Jack, please. Just drive me home then,” you whispered, your voice barely hiding the tremble. But after a bit more back and forth, with Jack being relentless and Trent silently waiting, the rest of the boys’ cars pulled out, Jack’s included, leaving you and Trent alone in the dark, quiet car park. The silence in the parking lot was thick, broken only by the distant sound of traffic and the soft hum of streetlights above. You stood there, feeling exposed, raw from the dinner that had stripped away your illusions. You wanted to hide, to be anywhere but here, but Trent’s gaze held you still. His eyes, so familiar and usually so gentle, were clouded with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Come here,” he said quietly but sternly, his hand reaching out for you, his voice steady but soft. Trent was still, his face serious, any of the laughter from dinner completely gone.

“No,” you said sharply, pulling back. Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Just… don’t, Trent. Just leave me alone. I’m not going with you. I’ll call an uber.” You snipped. You wanted to shout, scream at him for everything you’d heard tonight and for the pain it had left you with, but you were too tired, too heartbroken to manage anything louder than a whisper. “Please leave me alone.” You whispered once more as the tears on your lash line finally tipped over.  You felt the tears streaming down now, the anger and hurt tumbling out as you cried, unable to contain it any longer. But he wasn’t giving up. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he said firmly, stepping closer, his voice firmer this time. “Do you know what year I won the Champions League?” His question made you flinch; the reminder of the stories his friends had told, of the girls they’d listed, was like salt in a wound. He was asking you to recall the very thing that hurt. He asked like the question mattered, like it would fix anything. You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your voice steady.

 “I don’t care, Trent,” you whimpered, wiping a hand across your tear-streaked face.You glared at him, your eyes blazing with hurt. And then a different emotion appeared in full force. “I don’t care, T. I don’t care about any of it,” you snapped, wiping angrily at the tears falling faster. But he wasn’t deterred. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on yours, determined to make you hear him.

“The year I won the Champions League,” he began slowly, voice low but steady, “was the year you had that serious boyfriend.” His words hung between you like a confession, and for a second, you forgot to breathe. For context, he wasn't referring to Josh. You remembered that year — the love you’d thought you had found with another boy, the trust that had shattered when you’d learned of his cheating. But why was Trent bringing it up now?  “I couldn’t stand it, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening, breaking just slightly. “I couldn’t stay home watching you be his. I needed… anything, anyone, to stop thinking about you with him. It hurt.” He explained but it wasn’t enough.

“Oh, am I supposed to feel bad for you, Trent? You needed a distraction while I was dating someone? He was cheating on me, okay?” The anger that had simmered in you suddenly flared up, burning bright.  “So poor you. I’m so sorry that you had to fill your fucking bed with so many girls. And mind you so many that you couldn’t even be asked to be there for me during one of the worst years of my life. Trent, he was cheating on me! And now… now I’m here again, wondering if I’m just another ‘distraction’ for you.” You choked, the tears coming faster now, the memories making the hurt sting even more. “He had other women, and you’re doing the same thing. I’m never enough, Trent! You all always need someone else. Something more than me” You yelled generalizing all men. You were lumping Trent with every other man.

“Baby… please.” He begged with a pet name that made you wince at the minute.  And while it wasn’t entirely correct what you were saying, there was truth in it. You took a step back, throwing your hands up, cutting him off. 

“No! This is exactly what it is, Trent. I am never enough. I give everything, and it’s never enough for you… for any of you!” The words came out in a yell, louder than you intended, and in that moment, you couldn’t stop the full on sobs, letting them spill over, hot and blinding as they streamed down your face.

“Y/N, it’s not like that,” he said gently, reaching out to you, but you stepped back, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the pain. He shook his head, his eyes pleading, as he stepped closer trying again.. 

“This isn’t right,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. Trent was silent, his face losing its color as he took in the weight of your words. “We need to stop. I can’t… I can’t do this to Jack. Lying to him when he’s given me everything, and I’m giving it all to you, and to you I’m just… nothing.” The words cracked, a final, painful admission, the weight of it all too heavy to bear. Trent’s face crumpled with remorse, his gaze full of guilt, and without a word, he stepped into you, and this time, when he reached for you, you didn’t resist. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, and for a moment, you let yourself be held, resting your forehead against his chest as you breathed in his familiar scent amidst your tears. He was warm, solid, and despite everything, being in his arms felt safe. You fought him for a moment, weakly pushing against his chest, but he held on, his grip steady and strong, grounding you as you let the tears fall. Shame and guilt washed over him, silent and heavy, as he held you close, feeling the depth of what he’d let happen. And for a moment, the world fell away, the pain eased by the warmth of his arms, though neither of you could find words to fix it. 

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I promise… it’s not like that. It never has been with you. You’re not just another girl. I’ve waited so long, Y/N…”  He quietly whispered, voice thick with emotion as he gently stroked your back. “I should’ve done more to stop it, I just… I don’t know but I know I fucked up at dinner. I know I’m not doing enough but I also don’t know how to make this better, but I want to. I want this. I want you. And I swear, it’s not a game for me.” His fingers brushed through your hair, his voice a soothing murmur, and you let yourself lean into him, the weight of your pain easing slightly. But as he held you, another ache rose in your chest, heavier, more real. 

“It’s just… Jack is all I have, Trent,” you said, voice muffled against his chest. “You and Jack… you’re all I have left.” And the words tasted like truth, a bittersweet reminder of everything you’d lost, of the fragile balance you were trying so hard to keep. “I can’t do this.” You whimpered. “Not for something that isn’t even real to you.” You whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, a soft, tender gesture that made your heart clench. 

“I don’t want you to feel like…. like this isn’t real to me. If it’s even possible it’s so much more real than I ever thought possible and I’m sorry I’m shit at handling it.” His words hung in the cool night air, full of promise, and as he held you, the quiet between you was thick with things unsaid. You closed your eyes, letting yourself believe him for a moment, letting yourself hope that somehow, you wouldn’t have to choose, that somehow, you could keep them both. His arms were a steady warmth around you, and though the pain hadn’t faded completely, in this moment, it felt like maybe… just maybe… there was a way forward.

The car hummed softly beneath you as Trent pulled out of the parking space, his hand warm and steady around yours, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and bittersweet. The weight of the evening still sat heavily on your shoulders, the words exchanged at dinner echoing in your mind, each one pulling at the fragile threads of the trust you’d placed in him. But now, in this quiet moment, his hand was solid in yours, and that simple touch brought a calm you desperately needed. You shifted in your seat, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek as you closed your eyes, letting the silence settle between you. He brushed his thumb softly over your knuckles, a small but constant reassurance that he was here, that he was with you. The faint streetlights casted a gentle glow over the car’s interior, illuminating his face in the soft shadows, and you felt yourself easing just slightly, even as your heart continued to ache.

“Do you think…. Erm, T…Do you think I could just go to your house tonight?” you whispered, barely audible stumbling to get to the ask out. “I’m really sad, and I don’t want to sleep alone.” Your voice wavered, thick with tears, and you sniffled, trying to steady yourself. He looked at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he took in the vulnerability you were offering, no walls, no defenses. It’s not that you didn’t want to see Layla. It was just that you knew if you told her what you heard tonight she’d have an opinion and it wasn’t that you didn’t value her thoughts, you just needed to get yours in order before you debriefed. Was Trent’s bed the best place to sort those? No, but you wanted his comfort, he’d always been your comfort. 

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he murmured, a tenderness in his eyes that was almost enough to make you believe everything could be okay. “You can come be with me tonight. You can sleep with me whenever you want, okay? My baby.” His words wrapped around you like a promise, one that felt as real as the warmth of his hand around yours, and you nodded, your head finding its way back to his shoulder. For a while, you just stayed like that, nestled into him as he drove, his thumb tracing soothing patterns over your hand resting on his thigh. The city lights blurred softly as he drove, casting gentle reflections against the car windows, and you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of his presence, each moment a balm to the ache in your heart.

When you reached his house, he parked and didn’t let go of your hand as you both made your way inside, guiding you gently through the door, his touch never wavering. Once inside, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time all night, you felt yourself relax, the weight of the world slipping just a little as he held you. 

He guided you to his bedroom and suddenly a big smile pulled on his face. Tiredly you asked him why he was smiling like that. You weren’t in the mood and really weren’t in the mood for any cheek. But that gorgeous cheeky smile all made sense once you were stood in Trent’s ensuite, holding a brand new pink Goyard wash bag in your hands. Despite everything weighing on your mind, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You traced the soft pink leather with your fingers, glancing back at him with a puzzled smile as he came into the room, his own grin lighting up his face.

“T… what is this?” you asked, holding it up. He chuckled, stepping closer.

“It’s the same one I have, because, obviously, it’s the best one,” he explained, “mine’s white but I got it for you in pink so it’s like a Mr. and Mrs. thing, you know?” The sincerity in his voice melted something inside you. You turned and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“Go on, open it though,” he urged gently, nodding toward the wash bag, his eyes bright with anticipation. You hadn’t even realized the weight of it, realizing that clearly there were things inside of it as well. You raised a brow, a little surprised—did he really go beyond the bag itself? Unzipping it, you peeked inside and felt an instant laugh bubbling up as you took in all the familiar beauty products you’d mentioned to him the other night, each one carefully packed. You looked up at him in disbelief, a smile stretching across your face as he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I actually had to ask my mum to come with me,” he confessed, laughing as he watched your expression. “Didn’t want to look like a complete idiot in the beauty section.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, picturing him awkwardly shuffling through the aisles, trying to get it all right. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head with affection. Trent pulled you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he looked down at you, his voice softer now. 

“You’re my only girl, alright? You know you always have been. I’m sorry that I did things that made it seem like you weren’t. I’m sorry it took me so long to show you that…Only girl I’d ever pay that kind of money for ounces of cream for.” He laughed, clearly mocking the price tag on your La Mer moisturizer. “But for you… anything.” And with that, the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back started spilling over. You wiped at them with the back of your hand, giggling through your sniffles, embarrassed but touched beyond words.

“Stop, baby!” he laughed, reaching up to gently swipe a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “Please no more tears. I hate when you cry so, so much,” he whispered, pulling you close again.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a soft giggle slipping out as you looked up at him. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth and safety of him radiate through you. Trent brushed his nose against yours, his hand cradling your cheek as he whispered, 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” And for the first time in a while, you felt your heart settle, the ache easing just a little as you held onto him, feeling the promise of his words wrap around you.

You crawled into Trent’s bed, pulling back the covers, and let out a surprised laugh when you saw the smooth, cool silk pillowcases he’d swapped in just for you. Trent stood nearby, watching your reaction with a smirk, his hands on his hips.

“See?” he teased, puffing up a little as if he’d won a major victory. “Got the silk pillowcases and everything. I’m in, baby.” He cooed proudly. This act so clearly showed he was making an effort. You couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at the gesture, a warmth spreading across your chest. 

“You actually do the most,” you said, shaking your head, but the grin on your face gave you away. The fact that he’d followed through with something so small, something that made you feel comforted and at home, touched you deeply. He moved closer, and you reached out, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent—a mix of his cologne and the lingering warmth of the day. He wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Thank you for liking me… for doing all of this.” His eyes softened, and he gazed at you with such tenderness that it made your throat tighten. 

“Always,” he murmured. He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, then kissed your forehead. The touch was gentle, lingering, as if he wanted to press his feelings directly into your skin. You both climbed into bed, and as you got comfortable, you found yourself settling halfway on top of him, your back resting against his side, your legs tangled with his. His hand found its way to your collarbone, tracing light, lazy patterns that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was calming, grounding you in a way that made you feel safer than you had in a long time. In the dim light, with only the moon casting soft shadows across the room, you found the courage to ask something that had been weighing on your mind. 

“T... Do you think…” you started, your voice hesitant, “we’ll ever be able to really go out together? Like, just… be out in the open?” You asked. The vulnerability in your voice made Trent pause. He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression earnest. A gentle smile pulled at his lips. 

“Yeah, course if you want that,” he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. His fingers paused in their gentle tracing, and he shifted slightly to look at you more directly. “I mean… things have been good between us I thought but I also didn’t know you wanted that. For us to like go on a date or anything. I wasn’t sure if you liked the secrecy. I don’t know what you thought.” He explained to you sheepishly. Clearly things worked well between you in the bedroom and while you had no problem discussing that, it was also so glaringly obvious there was more to this relationship than just the sex… you just hadn’t said it yet. You bit your lip, feeling both shy and exposed. 

“I do,” you admitted. “I mean, I know it’s complicated, but… I just want to be with you.” He smiled again, this time with a deeper, knowing affection. 

“I want that too. I really do,” he told you. “I just didn’t know how serious you wanted this to be. But if you want it… then I’m in. Silk pillow cases, dates, whatever you want.” His words made your heart flutter, and for a moment, the world felt a little brighter. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but this time they were happy ones. You didn’t say anything more, afraid that if you spoke, you might start crying for real. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his jaw, your lips lingering as you tried to show him everything you couldn’t put into words. That night, there was no urgency between you, no rush to tear each other’s clothes off or tumble into anything wild. Instead, there was a softness that blanketed the room, a shared vulnerability that felt like a bridge between your hearts. You both exchanged gentle, lingering kisses that were more about comfort and closeness than anything else, the tender brush of lips and shared warmth easing the hurt from earlier. As you settled into the soft sheets, the familiar comfort of his bed easing the ache in your chest. His hands gentle as they traced soothing patterns over your back. You curled into him, your legs tangling with his, seeking out every ounce of warmth and comfort he could offer. As you laid there, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.  “I want you.”  He murmured softly. “And only you. Always have.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze, and you found yourself finally breathing a little easier. And as you drifted to sleep, his arms wrapped securely around you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself to believe in him, in this, in a future where he was more than just a fleeting presence in your life. You squeezed his hand once more, a silent promise to yourself that tonight, at least, you could find peace in his arms. When you finally drifted off, you did so with your head on his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, your cheek pressed against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your face was relaxed, your pouty bottom lip just barely brushing his skin. Trent lay there, his hand stroking your back in gentle circles, the other cradling the back of your head. He pressed soft kisses to your hairline, whispering to you even though you were already half-asleep. He stayed awake longer, watching the soft, peaceful expression on your face as you dreamed. Guilt twisted in his chest as he thought about how hurt you’d been earlier, how you’d tried to hide it but couldn’t quite keep the pain from seeping through. He wished he could take it all back, erase the moments that made you doubt him. The memory of your stricken face during dinner haunted him, and he knew he had to make it right. His mind began to work on a plan, a way to take you out on a real date, one that wouldn’t be about sneaking around or hiding. He wanted to show you off, to be open about how much you meant to him. He imagined a perfect night, one that would make you smile so brightly that he could forget the hurt he’d caused. As he held you, his chest tightening with how much he cared for you, he promised himself he’d make it happen. You were his only girl, always had been, and he was determined to show you that in every way possible. Even if he couldn’t fix the past, he’d make sure the future was full of moments where you never had to doubt what you meant to him.

After that dinner, things settled back into something you could only describe as uneasy but fine. You still were living this double life, lying to Jack. Keeping the extent of your new life beyond the first fuck from Layla. On the inside of houses, the confines of bedrooms, everything felt perfect; the chemistry with Trent was undeniable, and whenever you were together, it felt like the two of you were building something real. But the moment he left, that foundation started to shake. Alone, doubts crept in, the taunting whispers of insecurity that left you questioning every detail. The laughs and comments from the dinner echoing in your mind. Was this how he made every ‘girl of the season’ feel? Were they all secrets he kept? His history loomed over him. It made you wonder, was this just the same story with you? Only now, Jack's little sister had the lead role, the fact making you feel more self conscious of how he viewed you.  

Layla's constant questions, innocent but probing, made it worse. She didn't know the real extent of what was going on, only that something had happened. She knew you fucked but after that… you kept your lips sealed. Saying you weren't sure either, which was a half truth... you didn't but you also were omitting the fact that you were spending night's together. And while you wanted to confide in her, every part of you held back, afraid of exposing too much-afraid it would all unravel the moment it wasn't hidden. More people couldn’t know, it was too risky. The secrecy felt safe but also confining, and your chest ached every time you thought of it. The double life weighed on you more than you'd ever let on to Trent. And yet, when he messaged you during his away game, that familiar excitement flared up, and you felt that ache turn into something else, a want to remind him of you, make him feel how much chemistry you two had. For the moment you were hidden but after the dinner, after his promises you wanted to make sure he was certain. He texted asking to call you. You were nervous to agree but who wouldn’t want to facetime Trent Alexander-Arnold in bed. You weren’t sure how to act at first but then you decided– You wanted to make it clear you wanted him. You wanted to make him want you. Apprehensive but determined, you sifted through your wardrobe quickly, finding the boldest, most daring piece of sleepwear you owned. It was underwear disguised as something casual. You finally sat in front of the camera, as his call pinged through your phone. You answered, and immediately his jaw dropped. 

"Oh my fucking days," he murmured, his voice low, a mixture of shock and hunger flashing in his eyes. The look he gave you sent a thrill through your entire body.

"Hi," you cooed, feigning innocence as you adjusted your posture slightly, giving him an even better view. A small, mischievous smile tugged at your lips. You wanted this to be memorable. Trent leaned closer to the screen, shaking his head with disbelief and lust flaring behind his eyes.

"You look unreal. Fucking hell," he said, his gaze tracing every curve as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. You felt a rush of power, the distance fading as he soaked up every detail of your look. But it wasn’t just the look, it was everything; the clearly recently lotioned skin, the faux innocence, the vibes were just everything Trent would want. 

"I just want to make sure you don’t think of me only as Jack's sister." You met his eyes, holding his gaze as you whispered. The words hung in the air, a truth you'd wanted to tell him for a while figuring now while you had his attention would work.

"Trust me, he's the last thing I'm thinking about right now," Trent chuckled, still in awe, his eyes glued to you.

"I hope you’re not thinking about other girls while you’re away," you murmured almost as a test but simultaneously a tease running a hand slowly along your raised collarbone over to your shoulder, playing with the delicate strap of your bra as his breath visibly caught.

"Trust me, they're the last thing I'm thinking about," he repeated, his tone shifting, voice raw. “I don’t know who you’re even talking about, baby.” You could see it in his eyes-there was no one else he wanted right now. And that single, unspoken promise was all you needed to feel. “I don’t want any of that. You know that.I want you. Don’t play me, baby.” He smirked, his voice dropping, filled with a frustrated need that made your pulse quicken.

“I’m not playing.” You stretched out languidly, letting your voice drop to a purr. “Just thought you might like a little reminder of what’s back at home for you.” You told him. 

“Trust me, I don’t need one.” His voice softened, a hint of a smile in it now. “You’re all I think about. So don’t tease me like this. Oh my days, Y/N…” His eyes lit even more as the bra top was practically falling off. 

“Yeah?” you asked, feigning a nonchalant surprise. You could almost feel the tension through the phone. As you toyed with Trent, pulling down the thin strap of your bra, his breath hitched. The teasing, the slow build—it was intoxicating, leaving him hanging on every move you made. He was completely fixated as you gradually peeled away each item of clothing, your body on full display, leaning back against your bed, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. His reaction was instant, a low groan escaping him.

"Oh my god," he breathed, raking a hand over his curls, unable to tear his eyes away. Just as you began to lower the phone whilst opening your legs. A shiver ran through you. Feeling bolder than ever with what you were about to do. 

"Hold on-my phone's about to d-” You glanced away from the camera, then, without warning, hung up, pretending the call had dropped. Your phone dead. The silence that followed was deafening on his end. For a moment, Trent just blinked, waiting for you to reappear, only to realize you weren't coming back. It dawned on him that you'd left him high and dry, and he almost laughed in disbelief but the strain in his jogger was excruciating. This wasn’t funny at all. Not to him. It wasn’t long before the messages began flooding your phone, his name lighting up your screen as he called again and again.

Trent was spinning out. He couldn’t believe that just happened. You settled back against the pillows, heart pounding as you watched the texts roll in. Your phone buzzed—one, two, three times in a row again and again. 

But then you turned it off though to play the part. Still, you laid there opting to grab your laptop  staring at his messages flood in with a smile. This felt good. It was so easy to believe him when you were together, to let yourself feel like the only girl on his mind. But alone, doubts crept in, filling the space he left behind. Still, you couldn’t deny the thrill of making him wait for once. He called but your phone was off or ‘dead’ in his mind. He prayed you’d fucking charge it now. He was desperate for you and only you. He was almost embarrassed he had called and texted so many times but he wanted you so badly but as time ticked on he knew this was not an accident, this was chess, Begrudgingly he took matters into his own hands literally.  Hours later, you finally responded to his barrage of messages, typing with a grin tugging at your lips. You had left him out to dry and you kind of loved the power switch.

You wrote, knowing very well he was the culprit who'd taken your charger in an effort to hide things from Jack the other day. Your message was cheeky and taunting, almost blaming him for why he didn't get to have the call continue. Really just hammering home that you knew what you were doing. You could practically feel his frustration through the screen as he replied, a flurry of texts that only made you smirk, still desperate for you. His handiwork would never match what you offered.. You had him exactly where you wanted him, and something told you he wouldn't let you get away with this so easily and you couldn't’ wait.

The anticipation had been building for a whole day after the call, ever since Trent's away game ended. You knew he'd be coming back to you straight away. You had teased him mercilessly during that facetime, flaunting your body and hinting at all the naughty things he could do to you when he returned. But then your phone died or you could also say well… you just hung up. His desperate pleas over texts only fueled your excitement, and you couldn't wait to have him back in your arms, and beneath you or under you. You didn’t care. Jack was out and you were in… and in and just in a tiny tank top and panties. As soon as Trent walked through the door, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a mixture of desire and frustration. He strode purposefully towards your bedroom, just moving straight past you and straight to the point,  his broad shoulders exuding confidence and determination. You followed, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. It was like he came in and didn’t need to say a thing because you knew he was frustrated. Not actually, just sexually and you liked it the build up. You had to fight back a giggle as you came into your room after him, plopping yourself on the bed. 

"Baby," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as he stood in your room. You couldn’t read the inflection. It almost sounded like he was disappointed? Was he actually mad? Momentarily you were nervous but he looked so god damn sexy like this, hungry almost, you wanted to keep up your game just to see what would happen. You were lying on the bed, your hair cascading over the pillows, a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Did you miss me?" you teased, propping yourself up on your elbows, your tits straining against the thin fabric of your tank top. Trent's eyes darkened at the sight, his gaze flicking between your face and your exposed cleavage. "I'm tired, I won’t lie" you continued, feigning innocence. "You must be too from the flight. Maybe we can just catch up on some sleep tonight.” You knew you were being a tease, and the thought of driving him wild excited you even more. 

Then there was a shift in the room. He came over to you, his hand picked up your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You’re not tired.” Trent growled, a low sound that sent shivers down your spine. He told you very matter of fact. "You've been so naughty, baby…teasing me like that," he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge. "You know how much I thought about you dressed like that in this bed alone in my hotel." A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you realized the extent of your power over him. You'd left him with a constant ache, his cock throbbing and heavy with desire. But the shift in power was singly like a pendulum. Now back to you. 

"I know, baby," you cooed, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "But you like it when I'm a bad girl, don't you?" Trent's eyes blazed with passion as he grabbed your hand, pressing a heated kiss to your palm. 

"No, baby… I like when you’re a good girl f’me. And you've been a very bad girl, and I'm not having that," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re gonna be a good girl now. Right now. And I’m gonna take what's mine.” He said ferociously but steadily calm as he climbed onto the bed, straddling your waist, his hard muscles pressing into your soft curves. You gasped as his weight settled on you, his erection straining against his trousers, pressing into your core through the thin fabric of your panties. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading your tits through your top, causing your nipples to pebble in response. "You like being my good girl though, don't you, baby?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You like it when I touch you, when I take what I want." You arched into his touch, your breath coming in short gasps. 

"Yeah huh, T," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. Your resolve crumbling, the game falling to pieces instantly.

“I know you do. And right now I want you.but you didn’t seem to want me…” he taunted, still teasing you. “ So beg.” He commanded.

 "I need you please. Please T… I’m sorry.” You whined. The tides turned so fast. The power dynamic has returned to where it was before. With a growl, he tore your top off, baring your tits to his hungry gaze. His mouth claimed one taut peak, sucking and nibbling, while his hand cupped the other, rolling and tugging gently. Your back arched off the bed further, offering yourself to him, your hands threading through his hair, urging him on.

"See? Such a good girl," he murmured between kisses, his hands now exploring your body, sliding down your stomach, tracing the waistband of your panties. "But….” He began and your heart skipped a beat. What did you get yourself into? “Can’t be acting like that. You've been so bad, baby. You’re not doing all that with me. I’m in charge, hmm?” He hummed. You whimpered as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, slowly sliding your panties down your thighs, exposing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. His eyes devoured you, taking in every detail of your swollen lips and the dampness between your thighs. "So wet for me. You like this, don’t you? Me in charge of you. In control." he growled, his voice thick with desire. You nodded. He was 1000% correct. You weren’t sure you’d ever been more turned on in your life. "You’re gonna take my cock now.” He shifted, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock straining against his trousers. With one swift motion, he ripped at the button and zipper, freeing his thick length. You moaned at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

"Please, baby. I want your cock. I’m so sorry," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you inside me." He didn't make you wait long. You thought he’d draw out the teasing but neither of you could wait any longer. With one powerful thrust, he filled you, stretching and claiming you in one stroke. You cried out, your body welcoming him, your walls gripping and milking his length.the stretch was deliciously painful. You were so tight from minimal prep but god you were wet he just slid in.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as he began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with fierce possessiveness. It was clear immediately this was going to be a rough fuck. "You're mine, baby. All mine." You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. His hands gripped your hips, leaving marks on your skin as he pounded into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every stroke.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he panted, his breath hot against your neck as he nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin. "You want me to fuck you hard?" He asked with a smirk you could feel. “Gonna have you begging for more of me.” 

"Yes, please," you whimpered, your head thrown back, your body on fire. "I want it all. I want you to take me, own me." You’d never acted so submissive in your life. This was like an alternative universe only he could create. Trent obliged to your pleas eagerly, his movements becoming more primal, more demanding. Trent kept one hand on your hip guiding your movements but brought his other up your body, his hand wrapping around your neck, eyes pinned to yours. You gasped feeling his tip smashing against your cervix and orgasm barrelling towards you. But then he surprised you by letting go of your neck, slowing his pace ever so much so that the coil loosened in your stomach, the climax retreating momentarily. He was playing games with you. “You wanted to play with me, baby the other day? I’ll play with you.”  He taunted. He moved his hand off your neck and up to cup your cheek. Then swiftly he dragged his thumb across your lips. He slipped it into your mouth with ease as he pulled your mouth open by your bottom lip. He spit his saliva into your mouth and you swallowed diligently with a moan before he pushed his thumb all the way back in for you to suck on it like you would his cock. He groaned when your eyes began to flutter closed with a whine, simultaneously swirling your tongue around his finger. 

“Such a good girl f’me.” he gripped your chin looking longingly into your eyes. He loved everything about this. Being in control of you. You letting him control you. You wanting him to control you. He tucked his face in the nape of your neck. He nibbled on your sensitive skin. His hair tickling you. Hoarse grunts escaping him as you soaked him. He hit that spot deep inside you, only he knew.  All you could think about was the way he hit that spot again and again, continuously. He felt so good when he dropped his hand between you to rubbing your throbbing clit. He knew how to make you cum and he was going to do it well but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you. So he pulled out and  flipped you onto your stomach, throwing you around like a rag doll, positioning you on all fours, your ass raised high in the air, your back arched to perfection, presenting yourself to him. With a possessive growl, he smacked your ass, leaving a stinging imprint of his hand. "Why’d you have to act like such a naughty fucking girl, baby?" he whispered, his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. But instead of a whine, you moaned in pleasure. You liked when he slapped your ass. "You like it when I punish you, don't you?" He smirked, mildly surprised that you were this down for him to have this much control. Obviously you knew each other well but in the bedroom you were still finding things out. 

"Yes," you moaned, your voice hoarse as you pushed back against him, inviting more because you knew more were coming. Trent’s hand rained down on your ass, slap after slap, again and again, leaving a symphony of slaps and marks that would remind you of his dominance. Finally once he felt it was sufficient he let a line of his spit fall onto your ass. He watched it run  down over your ass and into the folds of your pussy. His hands caressed the fat of your ass. 

"You've been a bad girl, teasing me," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Just gotta fuck it out of you now, yeah? Make you my good girl again." He cooed as he positioned himself behind you and began to tease you, dragging his leaking tip across the smooth skin of your ass before slipping it between your folds teasing your entrance. He slowly pushed his cock into your pussy without another word. You were completely drenched. You could feel yourself coat his length in your slick again and again as he drilled in and out of you. The recoil of your ass from his hard thrusts had Trent in pure heaven. God, it must’ve been a good 30 minutes of him just blowing your back out. 

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping the sheets as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your ass, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. “I’m gonna c-.”  you cried out, your body trembling.

“No!” He commanded and you whined as he pulled out, halting it all. “You’re gonna keep taking my cock.” He told you as he slid back in and so you did. You kept taking him  “That's it, baby," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with abandon. "Take it, take all of me." You cried out as he slammed into you, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your orgasm building, coiling tight in your core, every inch of your body alive with sensation.“ You’re mine, baby. Understand?” He said it was a seriousness and a harshness that made goosebumps arise on your skin. 

"I can’t… oh my fucking god. I'm gonna cum, T," you panted, your nails digging into the sheets as you fought for release. "I’m gonna cum, fuck– please." You whined. You moaned as your vision began to blur a little from how good it all felt.

"Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice rough. "You’re gonna keep taking me because I said so. You asked for this. I want you to feel me, feel every inch of me." He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud as he continued to pound into you. Your moans filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and desperation.

"Please, T, oh my god," you begged, your body on the brink. "I need to cum. Please."

"Not until I say so," he commanded, his voice harsh. "You don't get to come until I'm ready to fill you up with my cum." His words sent a shockwave of desire through you, and you surrendered to his control, your body his to command. “You continued throwing your ass back as he fucked you relentlessly, his cock driving into your pussy with brutal force, his fingers working your clit with expert precision. "That's it, baby, let me see how much you want it," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck. "You're mine, every inch of you. I own this pussy. I get to decide when you cum.” After a few more strokes, that were gradually getting rougher you heard it, the command you’d be aching for. “Cum f’me baby. Cum now.” His words pushed you over the edge, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his cock as you cried out his name. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum, alright? Doing so good, baby.” He grunted as his thrusts became messy and unregulated before he came inside of you, filling you up to the brim.  his cock twitching and pulsing as he filled you with his hot release. You collapsed onto the bed, your body spent and satisfied. He gently pulled out of you but was quick to push his two fingers along with his leaking cum back inside you for a few moments longer. "You wanna cum again f’me, pretty girl?" He cooed.

“Oh fuck- oh my god.” You whined, body gone almost limp but craving more insatiably. His fingers easily sliding in and out of your pussy, finding that magical spot deep inside. He rubbed and pressed your clit as his fingers curled deeper from behind. You cried out, your body exploding in another mind-blowing orgasm. Trent smugly and quietly laughed not at you but just happy you were feeling so good. As your bodies calmed, Trent's softer side emerged as he gently rolled you onto your back, his eyes filled with love and adoration before he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He kissed you tenderly, his hands stroking your hair, his touch now gentle and caring. He held you close, his strong arms offering comfort and protection. You could feel his heart pounding against you, and his breath was warm on your skin.

"My good girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Did so good f’me. You okay?”   You smiled, your heart full as you snuggled into his embrace, content in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. 

"I love being your good girl, T," you murmured, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. 

"You were more than that, baby. Honestly, that was fucking unreal," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I love making you feel good." You snuggled closer, your body still buzzing with pleasure. 

"That’s good because you make me feel amazing.” you tiredly giggled. “But…I do really like when you take control, baby," you confessed, your voice soft and sated. "It makes me feel so fucking… I don’t know wanted or something. I like knowing you want me like that.” You poorly explained in your post orgasmic haze. He chuckled, the sound low and warm. 

"I do want you, more than you know. And I promise, I'll always take care of you…. Especially after wanting you like that." He smirked. He gently caressed your hair, his touch tender and loving. "Let's clean you up, my pretty girl," he said, his voice filled with affection. He helped you into the shower, the warm water washing away the remnants of your passionate encounter. Trent's hands were gentle as he soaped your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through your tired limbs. You leaned into him, your body still limp from the intensity of your orgasms, but he held you close, his strong arms offering relentless support. There was a physical and emotional feeling of warmth with him. He just wanted to wrap around you and keep you with him all the time. He was completely consumed by the thought. Seeing you so fragile after sex just sent a feeling alight inside he didn’t quite no how to label. 

"You're so good to me, T," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. He’d always taken care of you but now it was different… so different, so intimate and you both were recognizing it. He kissed the top of your head, his lips soft against your hair. 

"I will always take care of you, baby. I always have, I always will." He cooed as the water washed away the sweat and passion of your lovemaking, Trent's gentle care and adoration filled the void, leaving you feeling cherished and adored. You knew in that moment that this was more than just physical attraction. It was a deep, profound connection, but one you craved beyond the boundaries of the bedroom. 

That next morning was a slow, honeyed glow, filtering through the curtains and casting a soft light over the room. The world felt paused, as if the universe had frozen to let you both linger in this quiet perfection a little longer. The warmth of Trent’s skin was the only anchor you needed, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby against your cheek as you lay entwined, tangled together under the weight of the blankets and something far deeper. He shifted slightly, his body moving with that half-conscious care to keep you close, and you felt his breath stir your hair, a sigh caught somewhere between sleep and waking. As he moved, you instinctively tightened your hold, pressing yourself closer, unwilling to let him slip even an inch away. 

“MmNmm,” you murmured, a soft, sleepy protest as you shook your head against his chest, feeling the rumble of his chuckle in response.

“Nah, course not,” he laughed at you, his voice still heavy with sleep, But he was only teasing, he was loving that you didn’t want him to move. He lent down, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a lingering kiss, his breath warm against your hair. His hand drifted down your back, tracing gentle patterns, like he was memorizing every inch of you. “My pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender whisper, more to himself than to you, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. The sound of his words washed over you, filling you with a warmth that went beyond the touch of his skin. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he gazed down at you, his expression so soft and open, filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face with a gentle hand, his fingers lingering, tracing the curve of your cheek as if you were something precious, something fragile. “Nah you’re actually so gorgeous, baby,” he cooed, a little smile playing on his lips as his thumb brushed your cheek. He studied you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if he were afraid he’d wake up and find this had all been a dream. His other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you even closer, holding you like he’d never let you go.  You couldn’t help but sleepily smile, your own hands finding their way to his, fingers lacing together as you pulled his arm around you, tucking yourself against him. “Can’t believe I finally have you with me,” he whispered, almost like he was speaking to himself, his voice tinged with wonder and something deeper, something vulnerable. You didn’t need to say anything; words felt unnecessary in the soft, stolen space between you. Instead, you pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips, letting the silence say everything that you couldn’t. 

“You feel like a dream sometimes.” After a while, you finally spoke up when something other than sheer bliss came into your head. His arms tightened around you, his thumb gently stroking your side, sending a shiver through you that made you feel acutely, blissfully alive. He tilted your chin up, his lips meeting yours in a soft, unhurried kiss, so full of affection it left you breathless. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your face as he held you there, his gaze deep and intent. 

“You’ve been my dream,” he murmured softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. You felt his fingers run through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with the same careful attention, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to trace slow circles on your back. He rested his forehead against yours, his breathing soft and steady, and for a moment, you both stayed there, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. The morning stretched on, time losing meaning as you lay there, cocooned in each other’s arms. The world outside could wait; for now, all that mattered was the quiet perfection of this moment, of being held, of being seen, of feeling his heart beat in time with yours. It was a feeling you wanted to hold on to forever, a softness that seemed to live only in the rare, untouched hours of early morning.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 8 xx

[ghostssimp]

Aegon Targaryen//The Right One

As a daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you were supposed to find a man who would take your hand in marrige. It's your duty to be wed away. Your grandfather Viserys, he made a royal gathering to find the best suitor for you.

The real problem is, you had one in your eyes.

Aegon Targaryen. Your uncle. It looked like history was repeating itself, thinking how your mother fell for Daemon. Targaryens always had traditions that others found weird, but to keep the blood pure, sometimes you have to do what you have to do. Even Alicent, who first was against it, was thinking of marrige between Aegon and Haelena. In the end, Haelena got married to Aemond.

As you stand in the corner of the room, you see how a lot of men are having their eyes on you. Eating ypu with the looks of desire and need for power. You were just a pawn to them. Greedy bastards only wanted to have a little part in the game of getting closer to the crown. The sad truth is that they had no idea what it meant to be on the top.

You're always watched. Can't have a moment for yourself. Every step that you take is carefully watched by everyone. Every desicion is important and there is no place for mistakes. And as for women? You knew you were here for them to just spread your legs and give them a new heir. They didn't care for you. They didn't want you for love. Just to use you.

"Pretty boring out here, isn't it princess?" There is a low voice next to your ear and you can't help but smile as shiver runs down your spine. "I should be honored, my prince." Your eyes met his lilac. "After all, this is for my engagement."

Aegon scoffs, his eyes scanning the place. "Yes, but to whom?" His eyebrow rises as he takes a step closer, brushing the lock of hair from your face. "Neither of them are worthy of you."

Your breath hitched as your lips parted for a bit."And who is it then? I am nothing but a tool." Aegon looks at you, something battleing inside of his eyes. They always seemed distant, but when he talked to you, it felt like everything made sense back.

You were the only one to understand his pain. To understand his preassure. Who said he wanted to be a damn king as his mother was expecting him to be? Who said he wanted this life? His mother was always preaparing him for the big role he didn't wanted. To hell, his father didn't even look at him and he had to be ready to be a king?

"You are so much more than that." His fingers grazed beneath your chin, barely touching it leaving a ghost feeling underneath. His thumb crosses over your lips. The feeling of his rough skin on your soft lips made you feel like it was supposed to be like that. For your lips to belong to him. To any part of him. He glanced away, clenching his jaw. He was in a deep thought as he walked off.

Your eyes follow him as he gets lost in a crowd. You felt like you should've ran after him. You wanted to, but you were sceptic.

"Why is such a lady standing alone?" My head turns to see one of the lords over. Tyland Lannister. You never liked Lannisters. In your eyes, they were just a one more pawn that wanted to become a closer to a king. Maybe even to become a king.

"Just enjoying the gathering, my lord." You give him a polite smile. You didn't want to engage the conversation, but he seemed too interested in you. "Well, the night is long, and the songs are delightfull like you. Would you give me an honor, and give me your hand for a dance?" He chuckled extending his hand out.

You clench your jaw your lips in a thin line. "I really don't feel like dancing, my lord." His face changed to a frown. "Oh, am I not worth of a dance with your grace?" Something bubbled in you with his words. Anger, for him to use a guilt card. You didn't want to make a scene. You were a royalty afer all.

"That is not what I said, my lord." You take his hand. "Of course I would like to dance." There was a smug smile on his lips. You knew what he wanted. His grip got more like a possesive one as he pulled you onto the dance floor. His other hand held the small of your back. It felt like he was holding you too tight. Like he held you with greed.

Despite you trying to hide your discomfort, Tyland pulls you even closer and held you tightly to him. The two of you danced in a dead silence. You started to look around the place, trying to find someone to save you. To get you away. Your eyes searching around, it seemed like you were looking for a specific person. "Something is on your mind, princess?"

You look up to him giving him a fake sweet smile. "Not at all." When you look away, your eyes finally meet his with a pleading look in them. Aegon as soon as he catched your eye, stopped in his tracks and seemed to process the situation. He starts to make his way towards you, his eyes never leaving yours.

As Tyland takes you in for a spin, you extend your hand and Aegon takes it pulling you away and swaying off with you in a dance.

Aegon seemed proud with a smug smirk on his lips. "Tief." You say under your breath, feeling how he held you much more gentle as the two of you took off in a dance.

Aegon laughs heartly at your statement shaking his head. "You seemed like you needed rescuing." You nod your head, gazing up at him."You stole my heart, you stole me from my dancing partner. What is next?"

Aegon grins at your words, enjoying the playful banter between you. He spins you around, pulling you back against him as you continue the dance.

"I'm a greedy man, my princess," he says with a smirk, his hand on your back slipping lower for just a moment before resuming its usual position. "I'll steal whatever I can get my hands on."

His eyes never left yours. There was a glint of something in them. "Stop looking at me like that."

Aegon raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider at your words. "Like what?" He asks innocently, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him. You have to bite the smile that wanted to escape your lips. "Like I'm a dinner."

"Oh, believe me, my princess, you're a feast fit for a king." He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I'd happily devour every last bit of you." He pulls you impossibly closer, his hold on you possessive but tender at the same time. "Can you blame me for admiring you so? You're far too captivating to ignore." A chuckle escapes your lips.

"Va moriot gīmigon se paktot udir, gaomagon ao daor?" You're always finding the right words, aren't you? His eyes glanced down to your lips as he leaned his head to the side. He hums, you knew he enjoyed when you switched to Valyrian."Ñuha jorrāelagon, you're going to be a death to me." His voice just above a whisper. it was raspy and deep as you look at him in a haze through your lashes.

He leans in closer, his own eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting yours again, a mix of fondness and desire in his expression. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'll have to claim my future wife right here and then." He mumurs softly.

Your lips part in a shock. "Since when am I your future wife?" He smirks smugly, pulling you in, his face just inches away from yours.

"Since now. I'm not letting anyone else claim you. You're mine to have."

[sayruq]

unicef estimates that a thousand children in Gaza have become amputees since the conflict began in October. “This is the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history,” Ghassan Abu-Sittah, a London-based plastic-and-reconstructive surgeon who specializes in pediatric trauma, told me recently. I met him in the waiting room of his plastic-surgery clinic on London’s Harley Street, and we walked to a nearby pub for a glass of water. Abu-Sittah, a fifty-four-year-old British Palestinian with an angular face and tender, deep-set eyes, has treated child survivors of war for the past thirty years in Iraq, Yemen, Syria, and elsewhere. Abu-Sittah is the author of “The War Injured Child,” the first medical textbook on the subject, which was published last May. In October and November, he spent forty-three days in Gaza, conducting emergency surgeries with Doctors Without Borders. He shuttled between two hospitals: Al-Shifa and Al-Ahli, which is also known as the Baptist hospital. The casualty rate was so high that, during some intense periods, he didn’t leave the operating room for three days. “It felt like a scene from an American Civil War movie,” he said. In Gaza, Abu-Sittah was performing as many as six amputations a day. “Sometimes you have no other medical option,” he explained. “The Israelis had surrounded the blood bank, so we couldn’t do transfusions. If a limb was bleeding profusely, we had to amputate.” The dearth of basic medical supplies, owing to blockades, also contributed to the number of amputations. Without the ability to irrigate a wound immediately in an operating room, infection and gangrene often set in. “Every war wound is considered dirty,” Karin Huster, a nurse who leads medical teams in Gaza for Doctors Without Borders, told me. “It means that many get a ticket to the operating room.” To mark the gravity of these procedures, and to mourn, Abu-Sittah and other medical staff placed the severed limbs of children in small cardboard boxes. They labelled the boxes with masking tape, on which they wrote a name and body part, and buried them. At the pub, he showed me a photograph he’d taken of one such box, which read, “Salahadin, Foot.” Some wounded children were too young to know their own names, he added, telling the story of an amputee who’d been pulled from rubble as the sole survivor of an attack.

[bbhyeoliskooks]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 | TXT

TXT's reaction to you being jealous *:ꔫ:*

❈ genre: bf!txt x reader (gn), fluff, slight angst

❈ warnings: insecurity, unedited, probably got worse bc i'm tired :(

yeonjun *:ꔫ:*

yeonjun knew something was off when your shoulders immediately deflated with a barely noticeable pout on your face. for a while, he was catching up with a childhood friend that he hadn't seen in a while, laughing about inside jokes and memories they made in the past. you were polite when meeting them occasionally joining in, but now you were dead silent. sometimes you would look at the ground or toy with your fingers while you waited for them to finish talking, but now you felt your insecurities getting in the way. they had so much history together, growing up and becoming so close that anyone would think it was concerning. when his old friend gently rubbed his shoulder, talking about some meet up, you couldn't help but sigh, feeling inferior thanks to the lack of attention. after a while, that friend went away (thank gosh!), and you huffed, crossing your arms together as the two of you walked home. yeonjun noticed the silent treatment immediately, grabbing your hand so you would stop walking. he had finally put two and two together, the clenched jaw and awkward tension in your body finally making sense- you were jealous. and luckily, since you had a great boyfriend, he knew the exact way to cheer you up.

"silly baby," he pressed a kiss against your forehead tenderly, "i only love you."

you softened against his warm touch immediately, your insecurities melting away as he kissed every part of your face. kisses were magic; they made you feel better after all, especially when they came from yeonjun.

soobin *:ꔫ:*

soobin and his makeup artist got along pretty well. too well, actually, in opposition to your comfort. as you sat across the room, brooding and blatantly staring at the scene in front of you where they were laughing and cracking jokes, you felt your heart drop for every second that passed. truthfully, you knew soobin loved you since he made it apparent in all of his actions, but that didn't help when jealousy inevitably came up in the relationship. she dabbed some more eye shadow onto his delicate lid, and you only felt like throwing up. there was no reason to be jealous, no reason at all, so why were you feeling this way? when soobin came up to you, demanding a comforting hug for good luck- you were his good luck charm to ensure a satisfactory performance, he was genuinely surprised to see you sulky. nonetheless you tried to act like everything was okay, plastering on a smile as you leaned into his hug that almost made you feel completely better. now worried, soobin demanded what was wrong, hoping it wasn't a case of you catching a cold or even worse- breaking up with him!

his concerns eased a little when you came out with the truth, ashamedly saying you were jealous of his friendship with the makeup artist. soobin couldn't help but laugh, petting your head as if you were a child. you had nothing to be worried about; to soobin, you were the most dazzling light in his night sky, and no one could ever take your luminescence away. he loved you the most and after the special stage, he was going to show you the amount that crossed the size of planets and galaxies.

beomgyu *:ꔫ:*

when a random person came up to beomgyu on the beach, asking for his number, you immediately felt possessive. it was silly to say the least, sending them glares to get away from your man(!) or else you would have to throw fists (just playing...). you decided to stay silent, watching the whole ordeal yourself- so ridiculous that it could make you laugh- before interrupting and putting a foot between the person and your boyfriend. you were surprised that they didn't get the hint that gyu wasn't interested because of his cold answers and declines, and it didn't help that his significant other was right there! that person was as dense as a rock and you shooed them away, letting them skidaddle through the sands and to hell where they came from. beomgyu couldn't stop laughing at how you intervened, sizing the person up and down as if it was an old comical movie. he didn't seem to notice that you were actually pretty pissed off as the two of you meandered through the gentle waves, cold water splashing against your sand covered feet.

it was only after 5 minutes of his teasing that he finally got that you were jealous when you didn't respond to any of his harmless jokes. that only made him poke more fun at you, acting flattered and batting his eyelashes as if he was in a romcom. inside, beomgyu was actually shocked that you were jealous, ultimately reinforcing his feelings for you to be even stronger. you sighed asking him to knock it off, clearly annoyed, when he actually got serious, grabbing your hand with the utmost love in his eyes.

"y/n, you're the only one i want and will want. don't be upset with me, please?"

taehyun *:ꔫ:*

taehyun, ordering his usual caramel frappuccino alongside your favorite coffee, didn't seem to notice the cashier's flirty advances towards him. he just chucked it up as something the worker had to do, asking incessant questions about his favorite coffee and whether he prefers them bitter or sweet. it was pretty refreshing, actually, talking to a normal person instead of ordering on an ipad. on the other hand, you watched on the sidelines, close enough that you could hear what they were talking about. it wouldn't take a genius to understand that the cashier had a crush on taehyun, smiling whenever he said something or laughing a little too hard. you rolled your eyes every time they would wave their hand, trying not to giggle because they believed they had a chance with him. you obviously knew taehyun loved you very much; although he wasn't too affectionate in public, he still loved you through his ways, memorizing everything about you because you were fascinating. even so, that didn't help the green monster in the back of your throat, fizzling as the cashier's face got closer to his.

finally, taehyun realized what was going on and it was as if a switch had turned. he immediately became cold, asking if the drinks were done. the cashier, stunned at his bluntness and switch, apologized and handed the drinks to him after their coworker finished blending. it's as if the cashier didn't get the hint, meekly asking for his number while he raised an eyebrow. you waited for his reaction, squinting to try to read his reaction. he simply grabbed two straws, signaling towards you. you felt your heart warm at the certainty in his voice as well as pride, something you could never mistake when he talked about you.

"that's my significant other, thanks."

hyuka *:ꔫ:*

frankly, you were quite annoyed with how friendly kai got around others. you knew it wasn't his fault and perhaps it wasn't how friendly he was, it was how friendly others got with him, sometimes touching him if he said something funny. it also wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was remarkably handsome, earning some looks from strangers and definitely one of his friends that you got weird vibes from. you could tell the moment they entered, spotting hyuka, and immediately striking up a conversation with him. you saw the admiration in their eyes as they examined his face and tried not to stutter. you sighed, looking at him from afar. he was a perfect angel as always, and it didn't help that he believed everyone had good intentions. your stare darting away, you tried to focus on getting something to drink until you saw him calling you over from the corner of your eye. confused, you walked over and he held your hand, softly squeezing it when you stood beside him.

"oh, by the way, this is the love of my life, y/n."

the way he held you close, his scent comforting you as you leaned into his chest eased your insecurities. though he wasn't aware of your jealousy, his physical reassurance melted it away, alleviating your heart in the most hyuka loving way possible.

❈ Released: June 27, 2024 (2:03am CDT)

❈ Thoughts: hope it was good y'all <3 I am getting pretty tired since it's late here on vacation, but hopefully you enjoyed! as always, I loved doing this and I will create more in the future :)

❈ Tags:

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Behind the Lens and the Heart

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Y/N joins the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team as the new social media manager. From their first encounter, Lewis Hamilton is captivated by Y/N’s charm and passion. Despite his subtle advances and constant attention, Y/N remains oblivious.

______________________________________________________________

It was Y/N's first day as the new social media manager for the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team. The air was electric with the hum of engines, the chatter of mechanics, and the focused energy of the team. Walking through the paddock, Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This was a dream job, and she was determined to make her mark.

As she entered the team's motorhome, she was greeted by familiar faces from screens—engineers, PR reps, and, of course, the drivers. Her first task was a straightforward one: create a fun video to promote the upcoming Grand Prix. She was excited but a little anxious about asking one of the world’s most famous athletes to participate.

"Okay, first day," Y/N muttered to herself, straightening her posture. "You’ve got this."

She approached Lewis Hamilton, who was sitting at a table, reviewing some data with his engineer. He looked up as she approached, and the world seemed to slow down for a moment.

"Hi, Lewis," she said, her voice steady. "I’m Y/N, the new social media manager. I was wondering if you’d be up for a quick video?"

Lewis smiled, his warm eyes locking onto hers. For him, it was as if time had frozen. The moment she walked in, something inside him had clicked. She had a presence that was impossible to ignore—confident yet humble, with an infectious energy.

"Of course, Y/N," he replied, his voice smooth and inviting. "What do you need me to do?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered slightly at his easygoing nature. "I was thinking something fun—maybe a challenge with you and George? It doesn’t have to be anything serious, just something the fans will love."

Lewis chuckled, nodding. "Sounds good to me. Where do you want to shoot it?"

"How about in the garage? It’ll give the fans a behind-the-scenes feel," she suggested.

"Perfect," Lewis agreed, standing up. As they walked towards the garage, Y/N explained the concept, her enthusiasm clear in every word. Lewis listened intently, more focused on her than on the actual content of the video.

When they arrived, George Russell joined them, and the filming began. Y/N directed the drivers through a light-hearted quiz about the team’s history, throwing in some funny questions about their personal lives. The banter between Lewis and George was natural, and the video turned out better than she had imagined.

As they wrapped up, Y/N thanked them both. "Thanks, Lewis. Thanks, George. This was great. The fans are going to love it."

Lewis grinned at her, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. "Anytime, Y/N. Let me know if you need anything else."

She nodded, her mind already racing with ideas for the next video. Little did she know, Lewis was already thinking about how he could spend more time with her.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N settled into her role, creating content that the fans loved. Every time she needed a driver for a video, Lewis was always eager to participate. What she didn’t notice, however, was how he would light up whenever she approached, or how he made a point to seek her out during breaks.

One afternoon, after a long day of shooting and editing, Y/N was packing up her equipment when Lewis walked into the media room.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey, Lewis," she replied with a smile. "What’s up?"

"I was just wondering… a few of us are grabbing dinner tonight. Would you like to join us?" He asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something more in his eyes.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, caught off guard. "Dinner? With you guys?"

"Yeah, just a small group. It’s nothing formal, just some good food and conversation," Lewis explained, hoping she’d say yes.

"Sure, that sounds nice," she finally agreed. "Thanks for the invite."

As they headed out to the restaurant later that evening, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a casual dinner. But she brushed the thought aside—after all, why would someone like Lewis Hamilton be interested in her?

The restaurant was cozy and intimate, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world of Formula 1. Lewis, George, and a few other team members were there, but Y/N quickly realized that Lewis had positioned himself next to her at the table.

Throughout the evening, Lewis engaged her in conversation, asking about her interests, her life before joining the team, and her thoughts on the upcoming races. He was genuinely interested in everything she had to say, his attention never wavering.

"You’re really passionate about what you do," Lewis remarked at one point, his eyes softening as he spoke. "It’s refreshing."

"Thanks," Y/N replied, a little shy under his intense gaze. "I love storytelling, and this job is a perfect mix of creativity and excitement."

Lewis smiled, pleased with her response. "You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. The fans are really connecting with the content you’re creating."

Y/N blushed, not used to such direct praise. "Thank you, Lewis. That means a lot coming from you."

As the evening went on, Y/N found herself relaxing, enjoying the easy conversation and the warm atmosphere.

The next race weekend was hectic, with Y/N busier than ever. She was filming content non-stop, managing the team’s social media accounts, and coordinating interviews. But no matter how busy she was, Lewis always found a way to interact with her.

"Y/N, do you need help with anything?" he asked one morning, spotting her juggling a camera, a microphone, and a tablet.

She looked up, surprised. "I think I’ve got it, but thanks, Lewis. Aren’t you supposed to be in a briefing?"

Lewis shrugged, a grin playing on his lips. "It can wait. I’d rather make sure you’re not overwhelmed."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "I appreciate it, but I can handle it. You’ve got a race to win!"

"Fair enough," he said, his tone light. "But don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything."

As the weekend progressed, Y/N noticed how Lewis seemed to go out of his way to be near her. Whether it was offering to participate in last-minute videos, or simply stopping by to chat, he always made sure to engage with her.

But despite all the signs, Y/N remained oblivious to his true feelings. To her, it was just Lewis being friendly—after all, he was known for his kindness and approachability.

It wasn’t until the final day of the Grand Prix weekend that Y/N began to suspect something more was going on. The race had been intense, with Lewis finishing on the podium. The team was ecstatic, and the celebrations were in full swing.

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers filled the air, Y/N was busy capturing the moment on camera. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she found Lewis standing there, his race suit unzipped, revealing the Mercedes-branded shirt underneath. His face was glowing with the thrill of victory.

"Can I have a word?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Of course," Y/N replied, stepping aside with him.

Lewis led her to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the commotion. For a moment, he simply looked at her, his expression serious but soft.

"Y/N, I need to tell you something," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. You’re smart, passionate, and you have this energy that’s just… captivating."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. "Lewis, I—"

He cut her off gently, placing a hand on her arm. "I like you, Y/N. I’ve been trying to show it in little ways, but I think it’s time I just say it. I’m really into you."

Y/N stared at him, her mind racing. "But… you’re the Lewis Hamilton. You could have anyone. Why me?"

Lewis chuckled, his hand sliding down to take hers. "Why not you? You’re amazing, Y/N. I don’t care about the titles or the fame. I care about who you are—how you make me feel. And I think… no, I know, that I want to get to know you better. Much better."

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming happiness. "I… I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so focused on work, I didn’t even realize…"

"You don’t have to say anything right now," Lewis said, squeezing her hand gently. "I just wanted you to know how I feel. Take your time, Y/N. There’s no rush."

[saintclarkegriffin]

The 100 ended four years ago so I think I can confidently say that i'm forever going to be stuck between the denial phase and the anger phase. No accepting or moving on for me.

I mean for the most part I just pretend that season 7 never happened, like I block it out of my mind. But when I do remember it happened, I just get incredibly angry. And I know it's not healthy to still be this upset over a fictional show that ended in 2020, but I can't help it.

I think about how Bellamy was character assassinated and then killed off in the most brutal and stupid way possible, shot by CLARKE of all people, over a damn BOOK, that she didn't even take!!! I think about how he died all alone, without a chance of saying goodbye to any of his friends or his SISTER!!! I mean think about how crazy that is, Finn died but got to say goodbye to Clarke, Lexa died but got to say goodbye to Clarke not once but twice, Lincoln died but got to say goodbye to Octavia, Jasper died but got to say goodbye to Monty, Kane died but got to say goodbye to Abby and Indra, and Bellamy??? The male lead of the show Bellamy??? He dies and he doesn't even get to say goodbye to OCTAVIA??? The Blakes don't even get a proper final scene together??? And I get angry.

I think about how Clarke, the main lead of the show, was cast aside for half the season and then also character assassinated, turned into a selfish vindictive cold-blooded person who never learns from her mistakes and suddenly doesn't care about being the good guy or doing the right thing... even though the entire point of her character arc was that she was fundamentally a good person, selfless, altruistic and empathetic, who was forced into impossible moral dilemmas. But she never stopped caring!!! Making these impossible choices never got easier for her!!! Because she was good!!! But suddenly in season 7 she was turned into everything that Clarke antis accused her of being. And what's Jason's excuse for this? "Oh, well, if you think about it she was never the hero... she was doing awful things early on in the show, just against people we didn't care about like Mount Weather... In season 7 we put the audience in Mount Weather's shoes"... excuse me???? As if Clarke didn't try literally everything in her power to get her people back, without having to harm/kill the people in Mount Weather??? As if Clarke didn't decide to pull the lever only when she saw her own mother and her friends being strapped to a table to be tortured and killed for their bone marrow??? As if Clarke didn't feel distraught over what she had to do, to the point that she felt like she had to leave her people and be on her own in the woods for months??? As if she didn't have nightmares??? As if she didn't feel guilt and regret over Mount Weather and Maya up to freaking season 6??? And I get angry.

I think about how Bellarke, whether romantic, platonic or something in between, was the MAIN relationship of the show, with the most development and screen time. And that relationship was absolutely destroyed in the most contrived, spiteful way possible!!!! Jason had to character assassinate both Bellamy and Clarke to make it happen. That's how resentful of Bellarke and Bellarke shippers he was. Even though he was the freaking show runner!!! He had the power of writing Bellarke platonically from day one!!! But Bob and Eliza confirmed that they were told that Bellarke was romantic in nature, and that's how they performed it!!! Jason was the one who wrote 2x16 and 4x13, arguably two of the most important episodes for Bellarke... he came up with together!!! He took the head and the heart from the fans and put it in the show!!! He wrote Clarke calling Bellamy every day for 2,199 days!!! No one forced him to do that!!! But he did, and for what??? For Clarke to shoot Bellamy in the end and kill him??? Even if he didn't want to make them canon for whatever reason, he could've still written an ending that was respectful of their friendship and history in the show. But no!!! He had to destroy everything that made Bellarke what it was. And I get angry.

I think about how Octavia spent YEARS trying to get back to Bellamy, to see him again and tell him how much she loves him... And then in the second half of season 7, she just gives up on him??? She doesn't even TRY to understand what happened to him on Etherea, she doesn't talk to him, when Bellamy visits her and Clarke she just stands there with a disappointed face and doesn't say a word. And then when Clarke tells her that she killed Bellamy, she just hugs her and tells her that she understands??? And so would the old Bellamy???? The 'old Bellamy' she didn't even TRY to get back, the 'old Bellamy' she simply gave up on??? Literally every character from Octavia to Clarke to Raven to Murphy to Miller to Echo, had to be character assassinated so that Bellamy could die the way he did. Because none of them would've given up on him!!! They all loved Bellamy!!! He was the 'dad' of the deliquents and then the leader of Skaikru on the ring. But suddenly nobody cares about him, nobody tries to understand what happened to him or tries to change his mind, not even his SISTER!!! AND I GET ANGRY.

I think about how the message of season 3 was that 'pain means that you're alive' and 'you don't ease pain, you overcome it', and how it is better to live in an imperfect world than a perfect simulation. And then in season 7 there's Transcendence which is basically the City of Light 2.0, an immortal hive mind where there's no pain and no death. Just "peace" for eternity. But suddenly THIS hive mind is okay... because? Because the Judge and the other aliens (putting aside how ridiculous it is to introduce ALIENS in your show in the very last episode) are fair while A.L.I.E wasn't? There's nothing 'fair' about deciding which species is worthy of Transcendence and which isn't. Especially since the punishment for not passing the test is MASS GENOCIDE. And yet the Judge is portrayed as 'good' and 'fair' while A.L.I.E. was the one actually trying to ensure the survival of the human race!!! And don't get me wrong, A.L.I.E. was evil but in her methods, her motivs were actually morally sound compared to the Judge and the rest of the aliens. They only did what they did because they believed that they were morally superior to all other species, and if one species wasn't 'good' enough according to their moral standards, that meant that they deserved extinction!!!! "But at least with Transcendence you can choose whether you want to transcend or not, A.L.I.E. didn't give you a choice" bullshit!!! If you "choose" not to transcend, the aliens still take away your chance to procreate and have kids from you!!! They make you infirtile against your will!!! Your species still dies with you and your friends!!!! Why? Because some aliens said so!!! And that's supposed to be an happy ending??? Just because all the characters are smiling and hugging, it doesn't make this ending any less horrific once you think about it for like two seconds. And I get angry.

And finally I think about how the entire message of the show was NOT survival like Jason claims, but how 'life should be more than just surviving'. How 'life can be more than impossible choices and a tragic end'. How humans can 'be the good guys' and break the cycle of war and violence and tribalism. And in the end none of that mattered. Humans kept fighting each other up until the last episode and only stopped because they were being 'tested'. They got absorbed into a hive mind and they're going to be stuck there for all eternity, no lesson learned, no real peace gained. Our main characters, that we've followed for seven seasons, are going to eventually die, leaving nothing or no one behind. All the sacrifices, all the impossible choices they've made... completely meaningless, since the 'survival' of the human race was never up to them building a better world and society after all, it was always up to the morally superior aliens. I think about how they got to survive, but they didn't get to live. And I get angry... because I really loved this show and these characters so much... and they just... they deserved better. They really did.

[blitzwhore]

Thinking about this moment again—

—and imagining what would happen if Blitz was badly hurt by a Goetia here. Maybe Blitz jumping in is just enough of a distraction that either Stolas or possibly Octavia (arriving at the scene just in time) are able to jump into action and get them both out of there through a portal, but not before Blitz is attacked and severely injured.

Thinking about Stolas rushing Blitz to a hospital, holding him desperately close as Blitz bleeds out in his arms. Thinking of Blitz being unable to speak, quickly losing consciousness; about Blitz feeling content and lucky that he gets to go in Stolas' arms, but remorseful that he didn't get to tell Stolas how he really felt before he died. Meanwhile, Stolas is moving heaven an earth for Blitz to be seen and treated immediately, only half-realising that his privilege as a Goetia might be the only thing standing between Blitz and death.

Thinking about Stolas in the aftermath, once the worst of it has passed. Blitz is alive, but still in critical condition, and is unconscious on the hospital bed. And as the hours go by Stolas wonders if he should leave, but he can't, because Blitz came back, Blitz saved him, despite it being a death sentence for him to do so. He can't go now. He can't leave Blitz's side.

Thinking, too, of Stolas, who has previously been at a party full of people dedicated to hating Blitz, now seeing the hospital room slowly fill with people who love Blitz.

His employees, Moxxie and Millie. They sit by his side for hours, whispering amongst themselves and occasionally talking to Blitz, updating him on their lives. Millie holds Blitz's hand in hers; Moxxie alphabetises all the gifts Blitz gets because he knows Blitz likes things organised that way. There's a lot of gifts in the 'H' section, of course.

Fizzarolli, who could never make the same mistake again and not visit his injured best friend at the hospital; and Ozzie, too, who is there not just to keep Fizz company but also because he cares about Blitz, because he knows just how much Blitz and Fizz mean to one another.

And Loona.

She's so quiet. She never speaks to anyone, mostly just scrolling on her phone, and barely ever leaves Blitz's side, not even during the night. Stolas doesn't know why; he doesn't know that Loona made a promise that she wouldn't let her dad die alone, doesn't know that he's all she has in this world and she needs him and she's scared, even if she would never admit it. But he can see that she loves him. That she cares.

Thinking about Stolas getting to see the other half of Blitz's rocky history with relationships. Getting to see all the people who care, who worry, who are thankful and loyal to Blitz, who couldn't bear to lose him. And thinking of Stolas realising that, just as he's far from the only one whose heart Blitz has broken, he is also not the only one who has felt awakened, embraced, seen, and freed because Blitz came into his life. He's not the only one whose life Blitz has saved.

Thinking of Stolas finally seeing the pattern. Finally understanding that Blitz keeps changing others' lives for the better, and being too blinded by his own self-hatred to realise it himself.

And thinking of Stolas maybe, just maybe, falling a little bit more in love with Blitz by seeing him through the eyes of every other person who has grown to love him. Of Stolas impatiently waiting for Blitz to wake up so he can join everyone else in loving Blitz the way he deserves to be loved.

[gatheringbones]

[“As history has shown, and as I was at the time experiencing, a strap-on can be sexy, but it can also be a failure and a threat. It draws attention to how contradictory and fragile our definitions of male and female are, and how tightly we cling to them, even in relationships between women, where gender and sexuality are more flexible.

I think it’s important to look at how this played out, not just in the history of straight men policing lesbians but in the lesbian community policing itself. In the 1940s and 50s a bar scene began to develop in cities across the country, marking the first time when lesbians, particularly working-class ones, gathered publicly and in large numbers. During this time a butch/femme culture developed that included strict codes of dress and behavior both in and outside the bedroom. Butch women slicked back their hair, wore suits and jeans, and were, generally, the “givers” of sexual pleasure. Femme women wore dresses and makeup and were the “receivers” of sexual pleasure. In some ways, this culture was liberating, as it represented a powerful, cohesive group aesthetic and safety in numbers. Especially for women who actually identified as butch, it was also a chance to finally adopt masculine dress without being seen as failed or dangerous but rather as sexy and loveable. For others this culture was a trap, pushing women into restrictive sex and gender roles in the same ways heterosexuality had. It is by no means the only lesbian aesthetic, but I think part of the reason it has stuck around for so long in the popular imagination as the way lesbians are is because it allows straight people to again see themselves as the center of the sexual world.

In either case, strap-ons were not widely used, or at least not talked about. In Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold, a book that documents the lives of Black and white lesbians in Buffalo, there is a pretty exhaustive set of interviews about sex acts and terminology, but no one mentions owning, liking, or even trying sex with a strap-on. Indeed, the one mention of a dildo is one of bewilderment as Vic, a self-identified butch, talks about her friend pulling her into the bathroom to show her the new strap-on she got. “Jesus, she whipped this thing out . . . I’m supposed to be butch and my face felt like a neon sign. I could feel the embarrassment. How do you admire a dildo? No seriously, what do you say?”

Butches in the book took great pride “in their own hands and their ability to please,” which “did not dispose them to think that a dildo would improve their lovemaking.” It’s interesting that they considered the dildo less potent and successful than hands. This could be read as displacing the power of the dick, but, coupled with the silence surrounding strap-on use, it also points to a greater fear about the lesbian body. How regulated and small it had to be to exist. How easily it could be diminished by something outside itself, or destroyed altogether.

In the lesbian radical feminist movement of the 1960s and 70s, there was also a great deal of attention focused on creating distance from dicks. Jill Johnston argued in A Lesbian Nation that the only true road to female liberation was the conscious “withdrawal at every level from the man to develop woman supremacy.” This meant that not only butch/femme dynamics but also penetrative sex were out. Anne Koedt developed the theory that the vaginal orgasm was a myth perpetrated by Freud in order to center male sexual desire for penetration, though her evidence for this was a study done by Kinsey—a man—that found the vagina was not particularly sensitive to touch. True orgasms, Koedt argued, only came from the clitoris—even though she interestingly also called the clit “the female equivalent of the penis”—so if women wanted to have enjoyable sex there was no need for penetration, only clitoral stimulation. Andrea Dworkin went so far as to call the penis “a hidden symbol of terror” and argued that “violence is male, the male is the penis.”

Dorothy Allison writes about the effects this had on herself and other lesbians at the time. “No one admitted to using dildos, wanting to be tied up, wanting to be penetrated, or talking dirty—all that male stuff . . . my lover wanted us to perform tribadism, stare into each other’s eyes, and orgasm simultaneously. Egalitarian, female, feminist, revolutionary.” In attempting to free themselves from the penis, in many ways radical lesbians ended up reinscribing the power of the dick and sacrificing the range of sexual pleasure they could experience in the process.

In a counter to this, the lesbian sexual outlaws of the 1970s, 80s, and 90s argued that dildos were actually great, not problematic, but primarily because they didn’t reference the penis at all. Some even argued that wearing a dildo turns a woman into a cyborg, not woman, man, or even human, just a body involved in the mechanistic movements of giving and receiving pleasure. While there is something freeing about this argument, as it gets us out from under the idea that we can’t talk about strap-ons and that a woman wearing a strap-on is only trying to make up for a never-ending lack, it still bypasses the sticky, complicated reality of the gendered/human world we live in and the simple fact that sometimes lesbians want strap-ons to look like penises.

All of this begs the question: can a dyke wear a dick and just have some damn fun?”]

amy gall, from my dick, your dick, our dick, from wanting: women writing about desire, 2023

[atlasthegreatest]

A Game of Hearts and Ruins / Lara Croft x Indiana Jones! Male Reader

Which, Lara Croft crosses paths with Y/n Jones, a charming archaeologist and long-time rival, while both pursue the same ancient artifact.

Word count: 4788

The midday sun blazed mercilessly over the dense jungles of Cambodia, where the ancient ruins of a forgotten temple slept beneath layers of tangled vines and centuries of dust. Lara Croft crouched low on the edge of a broken stone pillar, her eyes scanning the scene ahead. She’d heard rumors of rare artifacts hidden within these ruins—legendary relics of power that would be a thrilling addition to her private collection. However, she wasn’t alone in the pursuit.

The soft crunch of a boot on fallen leaves caught her ear. Without looking, she smirked, already knowing who it was.

“Late as usual, Croft,” came a smooth, confident voice behind her.

Lara rose to her feet, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. “If I were late, Jones, you wouldn’t have needed to follow me here.”

Standing a few feet away was Dr. Y/n Jones—a fellow British adventurer and archaeologist with a devil-may-care grin, ruffled hair, and an insufferable twinkle in his eyes. He wore a worn leather jacket over a white shirt and khaki trousers, looking every inch the reckless explorer he was. His belt was loaded with tools, and a coiled whip hung from his hip, further adding to his roguish charm.

Y/n’s grin widened as he tucked his hands casually in his pockets. “Follow you? I was here first, love. Just wanted to see how long it’d take you to catch up.”

Lara tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Jones.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm. “And you’ve always been terrible at admitting when you’ve met your match.”

Lara felt the spark between them, that familiar current of playful rivalry. This wasn’t the first time they’d crossed paths on an expedition—nor the first time their competition had made things complicated. They both thrived on adventure, danger, and the thrill of outwitting each other. It was a game they loved to play, though neither would ever admit just how much they enjoyed the other’s company.

“Still planning to raid the temple alone?” Y/n asked, sauntering closer. “Or do you want to call it a truce and split the prize?”

“Please,” Lara replied, crossing her arms. “I don’t need help. Besides, we both know you’d try to take the lion’s share.”

Y/n grinned. “Of course. It’s what I do best.”

Lara turned on her heel, making her way deeper into the ruins without another word. Y/n followed, as she knew he would. They were drawn together like magnets—constantly orbiting, occasionally colliding, but never fully able to walk away from each other.

Inside the temple, the air grew cooler, filled with the scent of damp stone and ancient decay. The maze of narrow corridors twisted in every direction, and both explorers moved in practiced silence, each determined to outpace the other.

Lara was quick, slipping through narrow gaps and climbing crumbled walls with the grace of a cat. Y/n stayed close, his every move fluid and calculated, as if he were waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.

“Tell me something, Croft,” Y/n said as they entered a massive hall, its ceiling carved with faded murals of long-forgotten gods. “What’s your fascination with these relics? Is it the history, or just the thrill of stealing them before anyone else can?”

Lara shot him a sideways glance. “And what’s yours? Looking to get rich or just eager to impress me?”

Y/n chuckled. “Can’t it be both?”

She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. Y/n’s charm was infuriating, mostly because she found it oddly… endearing. But she wasn’t about to let that distract her. They reached the center of the hall, where a large pedestal stood. On it rested a golden amulet, glimmering in the dim light. Both of them stopped at the same moment, eyes locked on their prize.

“Shall we call it a tie?” Y/n suggested, his voice low and teasing.

“Not a chance.”

In a blur of movement, both lunged for the amulet at the same time. Lara’s fingers brushed the metal, but Y/n’s hand was already there, closing over hers.

“Not so fast,” he whispered, standing far too close.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, their faces inches apart. Lara could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, and the intensity in his eyes made her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the chase.

“Careful, Jones,” she murmured. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I always do,” he replied, his voice a husky whisper.

For a moment, the tension between them shifted. What had started as playful competition now felt like something far more dangerous? It was as if all the stolen glances, the teasing words, and the shared adventures had been leading to this exact moment.

Then, with a sly grin, Lara twisted her hand free and snatched the amulet. “Better luck next time.”

Y/n blinked, momentarily stunned, then laughed—a deep, genuine sound that echoed through the ancient hall. “You’re impossible, Croft.”

“Thank you,” she said, slipping the amulet into her pouch.

Y/n shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know, one of these days, I’ll beat you to it.”

“I doubt that,” Lara shot back, her expression smug but playful.

They made their way out of the temple side by side, their footsteps light and their conversation even lighter. For all the rivalry between them, neither could deny the thrill they felt in each other’s presence—the way their hearts raced not just from the danger, but from the sheer joy of being together.

As they reached the jungle clearing where they’d first crossed paths, Y/n gave her a sidelong glance. “What do you say, Croft? Same time, same place next month?”

Lara smiled, a rare softness in her eyes. “We’ll see. If you can keep up.”

Y/n reached out and brushed a stray leaf from her shoulder, his touch lingering just a second too long. “I always do.”

And with that, they parted ways once again—two souls bound by adventure, rivalry, and something neither of them was quite ready to name. But as they disappeared into the wilderness, each knew the truth: the next time they met, it wouldn’t just be artifacts they were chasing.

————————

Several weeks later, the humid jungles of South America set the stage for their next encounter. Lara had tracked down rumors of a jade mask—an ancient relic tied to a pre-Columbian civilization, said to grant prophetic visions to its wearer. The mask was hidden somewhere deep within a forgotten temple, buried beneath layers of rock and a thick rainforest canopy.

As she approached the vine-choked entrance, a voice echoed through the foliage, smug and familiar.

“You know, Croft, you’re starting to make this too easy.”

Lara turned to find Y/n Jones leaning lazily against a tree, arms crossed, his whip coiled at his side. His grin was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and the sun caught the mischievous glint in his eyes. He had somehow beaten her to the site—again.

“Following me across continents now, Jones?” Lara asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I had an admirer.”

Y/n pushed off the tree and strolled closer, his expression full of playful arrogance. “Who says I was following? Maybe I just know you better than you think.”

Lara gave a scoff, though her lips curled into a slight smile. Their rivalry had become a dance—one they both enjoyed far more than they admitted.

“Then you must know I don’t intend to let you take that mask,” she said, brushing past him toward the temple entrance.

Y/n’s grin widened as he followed at her side. “Tell you what—how about we make things interesting this time? Whoever gets the mask first wins.”

“And what’s the prize?” Lara asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

Y/n leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Winner picks the next adventure. Loser buys the drinks.”

Lara let out a quiet chuckle, her heart skipping a beat despite herself. “Hope you’re ready to part with some cash.”

Y/n’s laugh followed her into the darkness of the temple, a deep, infectious sound that made her chest feel annoyingly warm.

Inside the temple, they fell into their usual rhythm—both racing against each other and the ticking clock of hidden traps. The ruins were riddled with dead ends, collapsing pathways and intricately designed puzzles meant to keep intruders at bay.

Lara slipped through tight spaces with feline grace, while Y/n used his whip to swing over bottomless pits and climb crumbling walls. They traded banter along the way, their words light but carrying the weight of something unspoken.

“You know, Croft, one day your luck is going to run out,” Y/n said, watching her disable a complex trap with practiced ease.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Lara replied, glancing back at him with a playful smirk. “Just skill—and better instincts than yours.”

Y/n chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag. “We’ll see about that.”

They reached the heart of the temple at the same time—a grand chamber with towering statues and an altar at the center, upon which rested the jade mask. It gleamed under a shaft of sunlight that cut through the darkness, casting long shadows across the stone floor.

Both adventurers slowed their pace, eyes locked on the artifact. For a moment, neither moved, as if testing the other’s resolve.

“Ladies first?” Y/n offered the smirk on his lips suggesting he was anything but sincere.

Lara scoffed. “Chivalry doesn’t suit you.”

And just like that, they were in motion—both of them darting toward the mask. Y/n’s whip lashed out, aiming to knock the artifact into his hand, but Lara anticipated the move and dodged. With a roll and a leap, she reached the altar first, fingers grazing the jade surface.

But Y/n was faster than she expected. His hand closed over hers—just like before—and they both froze, breathing hard from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Lara looked up, meeting Y/n’s gaze. His face was inches from hers, and for a moment, all the teasing banter, all the playful rivalry, melted away. She felt the steady rhythm of his breath and smelled the faint scent of leather and earth on his jacket.

“You’re predictable, Jones,” she whispered, her voice softer than before.

“And you’re impossible,” he murmured in return, his hand still resting lightly over hers.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity—caught between the thrill of competition and the pull of something deeper. Neither was willing to admit it aloud, but in these stolen moments, the game they played felt less like a rivalry and more like something… inevitable.

Y/n’s lips quirked into a slow, teasing smile. “You always this competitive on dates, Croft?”

“This isn’t a date,” Lara replied, though the amusement in her eyes betrayed her.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

And then, before she could think twice, Lara made her move. She shifted her weight, used Y/n’s balance against him, and twisted free with the jade mask in hand.

“Better luck next time,” she said, throwing him a playful wink as she tucked the mask into her satchel.

Y/n stared after her, half-exasperated, half-impressed. “You’re going to be the death of me, Croft.”

“Maybe,” Lara called over her shoulder, already heading for the exit. “But you’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Y/n laughed, shaking his head as he followed her out of the temple. As they emerged into the bright sunlight, the jungle buzzing with life around them, he caught up to her once again.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Since I lost, I suppose the drinks are on me.”

Lara shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth curling into a rare, genuine smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Y/n grinned, something warm and knowing flickering in his eyes. “And next time?”

Lara gave a light shrug, though her heart was already racing at the thought of their next adventure. “Same stakes. Same rules.”

“Good,” Y/n murmured, his voice laced with promise. “Because I have a feeling our best adventures are still ahead.”

And with that, they disappeared into the jungle once more—two rivals bound by danger, drawn together by something far more powerful than either of them could resist.

——————-

Lara and Y/n didn’t part ways for long. Just a few weeks later, they found themselves standing in the shadows of the Atlas Mountains, on the outskirts of a Berber village. Their latest quarry was the Scarab of Anhur, an ancient amulet believed to bring victory in battle. A collector in Marrakesh had offered an obscene sum to acquire it, but neither Lara nor Y/n needed the money. For them, the scarab was just another excuse to outmaneuver each other—and perhaps, neither of them could stay away.

They stood together near the entrance of a remote tomb, surrounded by jagged cliffs and the endless stretch of desert sky. The sun was sinking low, casting long golden beams across the rocky landscape.

“So, what’s the plan this time?” Y/n asked with a grin as he adjusted his whip. “We race to the artifact, you leave me in a pit, and I show up at the bar later like nothing happened?”

Lara smirked, brushing dust off her cargo pants. “That does sound familiar.”

“You wound me, Croft.” Y/n placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I thought we were building trust.”

“Trust?” Lara echoed, raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t trust, Y/n—it’s foreplay.”

The words hung between them, thick with implication. Y/n’s smirk faltered for just a second, his eyes darkening with something that wasn’t entirely amusement.

“Careful,” he said, his voice quieter now, “or one of these days, you might get in over your head.”

Lara leaned closer, a dangerous glint in her eye. “I doubt it.”

They stood like that for a moment, caught in the web of tension and teasing that had been growing between them since their first encounter. There was no denying it now—their rivalry was more than just a game. It was a dangerous dance, one that neither of them knew how to stop.

Inside the tomb, the temperature dropped sharply, the cool air heavy with centuries of silence. The walls were adorned with faded carvings of ancient battles, and the narrow corridor stretched deep into the earth. They walked side by side, the sound of their boots echoing in the stillness.

“So, why do you do it?” Y/n asked after a while, breaking the silence. “Chasing after these things. The artifacts, the temples… What’s the endgame, Croft?”

Lara shrugged, her flashlight beam dancing over the walls. “It’s not about the end. It’s about the journey. The discovery.”

“And the thrill of beating me to the prize, I imagine?”Y/n teased, though his gaze softened as he looked at her.

Lara glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “That’s just a bonus.”

They reached a large chamber, the heart of the tomb. At the center, atop a pedestal carved with intricate hieroglyphs, lay the Scarab of Anhur. The golden amulet shimmered faintly, untouched for centuries.

Lara’s pulse quickened.

Y/n, ever-watchful, moved closer. “Shall we flip a coin this time, or are we sticking with ‘winner takes all’?”

Lara shot him a sly grin. “What fun would a coin toss be?”

Without another word, they both moved toward the pedestal—two shadows racing against each other through time.

Y/n was quick, but Lara was quicker. She reached the scarab just as Y/n lunged forward, and once again, their hands collided over the artifact. For a moment, they stood frozen, breathing hard, faces close enough to feel the warmth of the other’s skin.

“Déjà vu,” Y/n whispered, his voice low and rough.

Lara looked up, her eyes locking with his. This time, there was no witty remark, no teasing banter. Just the steady hum of adrenaline and something far more dangerous—something that had been building between them for too long.

And then, before she could stop herself, Lara leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was brief, but it was electric. The moment their lips met, the tension that had simmered between them for so long ignited into a blaze. Y/n responded without hesitation, his hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their hearts pounding in unison.

“Well,” Y/n said, his voice husky with surprise, “that was… unexpected.”

Lara’s lips quirked into a rare, genuine smile. “Maybe. But it’s been a long time coming.”

Y/n’s grin returned, softer this time. “No arguments here.”

The scarab glimmered between them, forgotten for the moment. The prize didn’t seem quite as important anymore—not compared to what they had just discovered.

Lara cleared her throat, stepping back but not breaking eye contact. “So… what now?”

Y/n shrugged, his grin turning lazy and affectionate. “We could fight over the scarab. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or,” Y/n said, slipping an arm around her waist, “we could call it a draw. Just this once.”

Lara chuckled, a rare sound that made Y/n’s heart skip a beat. “You’re getting soft, Beckett.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just realized that beating you isn’t the prize I want.”

Lara looked at him, the amusement in her gaze giving way to something deeper. For the first time, the lines between rivalry and affection blurred beyond recognition, and she found she didn’t mind.

“Come on,” she said, tugging his hand lightly. “Let’s get out of here before we both regret this.”

Y/n grinned, following her toward the exit. “Regret? Never.”

As they made their way back through the tomb, side by side, the weight of the scarab in Lara’s satchel felt lighter than it should have. For once, the artifact wasn’t the victory she cared about.

And maybe, just maybe, the adventure they’d found together was only just beginning.

Bonus chapter:

The bonfire crackled warmly in the moonlit desert night, casting flickering shadows over the sand. Lara sat cross-legged on a blanket, sipping whiskey from a battered flask, the glow of the fire soft against her bronzed skin. The day’s adventure—their narrow escape from collapsing ruins—had left them both exhausted but exhilarated. Across from her, Y/n Jones reclined against his rucksack, his leather jacket thrown carelessly aside, hair mussed, and a satisfied grin playing on his lips.

“This almost feels… domestic,” Y/n teased, raising a brow as he accepted the flask from Lara.

Lara gave him a smirk. “If your idea of domestic includes dodging spike traps, solving ancient riddles, and nearly being buried alive, then sure—domestic.”

Y/n chuckled, the sound low and easy, sending a warmth through her chest that had nothing to do with the fire. He tipped the flask to his lips and took a slow drink, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace, but I’d say it’s the perfect evening. After all, I’ve got the stars, good company…” He shot her a playful look. “And the fact that I didn’t lose—entirely—today.”

Lara arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t win either, Jones.”

Y/n leaned closer, close enough for her to smell the whiskey on his breath, that familiar spark lighting between them once again. “Well, if it’s a draw, I say we call it a victory for both of us.”

“Ever the optimist,” Lara said, though there was no bite in her tone.

They lapsed into comfortable silence for a while, the night wrapping around them in a quiet embrace. The stars stretched endlessly overhead, and the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the distant whisper of the wind against the dunes.

For once, Lara wasn’t thinking about ancient artifacts or dangerous tombs. She wasn’t planning her next move or trying to stay one step ahead. For once, she was simply here—sharing the moment with someone who understood the same restless hunger for adventure, the same need to keep moving, always chasing something just out of reach.

“Do you ever think about it?” Y/n asked suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful.

Lara glanced at him. “Think about what?”

“Stopping,” he said, tilting his head back to gaze at the stars. “Walking away from all of this. The treasure hunts, the danger, the endless competition.”

Lara considered the question, surprised by how serious it sounded coming from him. She’d spent her entire life running toward the next adventure, always searching for the next discovery. But now, sitting here with Y/n, the idea didn’t seem as foreign—or as impossible—as it once had.

“And do what?” she asked softly.

Y/n shrugged, his smile lazy but genuine. “I don’t know. Open a bar in Marrakesh? Start a museum somewhere quiet?” He gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes warm and knowing. “Maybe find someone to share it with.”

Lara’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression cool. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

He grinned. “I’m full of surprises.”

She shook her head, amused despite herself. “And if you had to bet on it—how long do you think we’d last in that quiet life?”

Y/n laughed, the sound rich and full of mischief. “A week. Maybe two.”

“Generous,” Lara said with a chuckle.

Y/n leaned back on his elbows, watching her with a gaze that made her feel as though he could see past every wall she’d ever built. “But we’d have fun trying, wouldn’t we?”

Lara smiled—a real smile, not the half-smirks she usually gave. “Yeah, Jones. We would.”

They stayed by the fire long after the flames began to die, sharing stories from old adventures, moments they hadn’t told anyone else. Y/n told her about the time he’d gotten trapped in a Bolivian cave with only a compass and a bottle of rum to his name. Lara recounted a narrow escape from pirates off the coast of Madagascar.

Somewhere along the way, the space between them disappeared.

Lara didn’t remember exactly when Y/n shifted closer, or when she stopped pretending to mind. All she knew was that his hand brushed hers, and for the first time, she didn’t pull away.

The kiss that followed was slow, unhurried—different from the adrenaline-fueled kiss they’d shared in the tomb. This one was deliberate, a promise made under the open sky, without the pressure of stolen moments or looming danger.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/n rested his forehead against hers, his voice low and rough. “I hate to admit it, but I think I might be falling for you, Croft.”

Lara’s heart hammered in her chest, but she met his gaze without flinching. “Then you’d better keep up, Jones.”

Y/n grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Always.”

Morning came too soon, and with it, the pull of the next adventure. The fire had burned down to embers, and the cool dawn air nipped at their skin.

Lara rose first, brushing sand from her pants and adjusting her gear. Y/n followed, slinging his pack over his shoulder with an easy grin.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside her as they made their way across the dunes, “where to next?”

Lara glanced at him, her eyes sparkling with that familiar glint of mischief. “There’s a legend about a lost temple in the Himalayas. Supposedly, it holds a relic that grants eternal youth.”

Y/n chuckled. “You think we’ll beat the odds and live forever?”

Lara gave him a playful smirk. “I wouldn’t bet against us.”

And with that, they set off into the rising sun—two explorers, two hearts bound by adventure and something far more precious than any treasure they could ever find.

Because for Lara Croft and Y/n Jones, the real prize wasn’t the artifacts or the glory. It was the journey. And as long as they had each other, the adventure would never end.

———————

A month later, the frigid winds of the Himalayas howled around them as they clung to a cliff face. Far below, jagged rocks peeked through a blanket of snow, promising a swift end to anyone careless enough to misstep. But the danger was nothing new to Lara Croft and Y/n Jones.

“Still think eternal youth is worth it?” Y/n called over the roar of the wind, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his face.

Lara smirked, planting her ice axe into the frozen rock. “You afraid of a little cold, Jones?”

Y/n huffed. “No, just making sure you don’t lose your edge.” He swung his body forward, driving his own axe into the ice next to hers.

They had chased the myth of the Temple of Shambala through ancient maps, local rumors, and narrow escapes from rival treasure hunters. Now, only a few hundred feet separated them from the summit—and the legendary temple said to be hidden beneath the glacier.

Y/n reached the ledge first, pulling himself up with a grunt. He turned and offered Lara a hand. “Come on, Croft. I’d hate to have to rescue you at the last minute.”

Lara raised an eyebrow but took his hand, letting him help her up. “You’ll never let me forget it, will you?”

Y/n grinned, tugging her close for just a moment, their faces inches apart. “Not in a million years.”

The entrance to the temple was hidden beneath layers of thick ice, but Lara had spotted faint carvings—indications of a doorway. Together, they set to work, their ice axes clanging rhythmically against the frozen surface.

When the ancient stone door finally cracked open, a rush of warm, stagnant air escaped from within, a sharp contrast to the biting cold outside.

“After you,” Y/n said with a mock bow, sweeping his arm toward the dark passage.

Lara rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “So much for chivalry being dead.”

The temple was vast, its cavernous halls shimmering with ancient ice that glowed a ghostly blue. Enormous statues of forgotten gods lined the walls, their faces serene as they gazed down on the two explorers. The floor beneath their boots crunched with frost, and the air was heavy with centuries of silence.

“This place is unreal,” Y/n whispered, running a hand along one of the statues.

Lara nodded, captivated by the beauty of it all. But she knew better than to let awe distract her for long. “Keep your eyes open. If the legends are true, there’ll be traps.”

As they ventured deeper into the temple, they found more signs of its ancient purpose—symbols of renewal, carvings of stars and moons, and murals depicting pilgrims drinking from a golden chalice. At the heart of the temple, beneath a dome carved with constellations, they found what they had been seeking.

The Chalice of Shambala sat atop a pedestal, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light.

Y/n gave a low whistle. “That’s it?”

Lara approached it cautiously, her eyes scanning the room for any hidden mechanisms. “Be careful. If the myths are right, that thing grants eternal youth—but only if it deems you worthy.”

Y/n raised a skeptical brow. “And what happens if it doesn’t?”

“Let’s not find out,” Lara murmured.

They approached the chalice together, their hands brushing as they reached for it. Neither spoke, but the weight of what they had shared over the past few months hung between them.

Y/n broke the silence first. “You know, Croft… If this thing works, we could keep doing this forever. Adventure after adventure. Just you and me.”

Lara looked at him, her expression softening. “Forever, huh?”

“Think you could stand me that long?” Y/n asked, his grin playful but his gaze sincere.

Lara hesitated, her hand hovering over the chalice. For once, the temptation wasn’t the treasure—it was the thought of what came next. She realized she didn’t want a life without him, whether it lasted fifty years or five centuries.

With a small, mischievous smile, she pulled her hand away. “I think I’d rather grow old with you.”

Y/n blinked, momentarily stunned. Then his grin returned, warmer than the firelight on a desert night. “Well, Croft, that might just be the best treasure I’ve found yet.”

Lara rolled her eyes, though her heart swelled. “Come on, let’s get out of here before this place decides to kill us.”

Y/n grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers as they turned toward the exit. “Lead the way, Croft. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

And with that, they left the chalice untouched, their footsteps echoing through the ancient halls as they walked hand in hand toward the next great adventure—one filled not just with danger and discovery, but with each other.

Because in the end, they realized, it wasn’t the promise of eternal youth that mattered. It was the journey—and the person they chose to share it with.

[lemotmo]

Ugh, please let this be what they're actually doing. It makes so much sense and I would love to watch it.

Q. Why do you think the next clip will feature Buck? Is there usually a strategy to a show releasing cut scenes?

A. Oh there's definitely a strategy to choosing the scenes to release. Usually it ends up being scenes that will be at least partially relevant for upcoming episodes/storylines but weren't necessarily relevant to previous episodes. The reason I believe the next clip will feature Buck is because making the first two clips a Tommy scene and then an Eddie scene was definitely a deliberate choice. Anytime an episode last season featured the 3 of them the promo pics were always staged as having Eddie in between Tommy and Buck. The lone exception was the medal ceremony pics which had Buck in between Eddie and Tommy. But the 3 were always presented as a triangle. That's clearly an intentional thing on the show's part. I don't see them changing that when it comes to releasing the deleted scenes. The context of the two clips is also very telling, especially the Eddie/Christopher scene.

The Tommy scene is easy. It was standard issue plot device dialogue. Tommy's view of Evan is very surface level focused. His priority is their physical relationship, which doesn't require any kind of emotional connection (example: not calling him Buck). Every line of dialogue he had following 7x4 stuck to that theme, including the deleted scene. However, the Eddie/Christopher scene was entirely about emotional connection, and is exactly why I think the next scene they release will be bachelor party related. Eddie's story about his and Shannon's first meeting focusing on the fact that she was the one who did most of the talking, while he was the one who wanted to listen to her talk, was significant for a couple of reasons. One reason is it shows a quality that Eddie clearly finds attractive in a partner. He likes to listen to his person talk. The other significant thing was the pronoun change. When Eddie was talking about the past he said "she", the moment the conversation turned towards the future he said "they/them". That was deliberate. In the timeline of the show this scene takes place a little while after the bachelor party, making the karaoke song choice all the more telling. Especially if Eddie is the one who chose the song. Their karaoke song was 'What I Like About You'. The chorus of that song, meaning the most repeated lines of the song, are:

"Keep on whispering in my ear"

"Tell me all the things that I wanna hear"

'Cause it's true (that's what I like)"

"That's what I like about you (that's what I like)"

Eddie likes to listen to his person talk. It is canon that Eddie likes to listen to Buck talk. Tons of canon scenes of Eddie looking fondly at Buck when he goes on one of his rambles. There is a scene of Buck talking into Eddie's ear at the bachelor party. Eddie switched pronouns because he started the conversation talking about Shannon but he ended the conversation talking about Buck, whether he's actually aware of that yet or not remains to be seen. It's why Ryan has made a point of comparing Shannon and Buck during his interviews. It's why the show made a point of comparing the two of them. That's what they're doing. For Eddie it doesn't matter that Shannon was female and Buck is male. For Eddie it's about how those two people, and only those two people, make him feel. It's why the instant family set up with Anna and Marisol made him spiral, but why that same setup with Buck doesn't make him spiral. He sees Buck the same way he saw Shannon. Like Ryan said Eddie romanticizes his history with Shannon but how he felt when he was around her , at least in the beginning, is very real ,and Buck has been the only other person to make Eddie feel like that. I don't think he will label himself. I absolutely think he's demi, but I think the story the show is telling is that for Eddie it's about the emotional connection he has only ever had for two people. It just so happens that one was female and one is male.

The deleted clips are about how differently Tommy and Eddie see Evan/Buck, and relationships in general. And how that very much sets up the story of Eddie and Buck that season 8 will tell. At least this is what I think they're doing. This is what it looks like they're doing.

Nonny I fully agree with you. Thank you for dropping this in my inbox!

Thank you Ali for sharing your POV and insight into this topic. It's fascinating how your mind works. :) I read this and all of it makes perfect sense. I really really really hope that this is what they are doing as well.

We'll just have to wait for the next deleted scene to drop to see whether or not this is the route they are taking. *crosses fingers*

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[andvys]

Everlong // part five 

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, mentions of depression & anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of ptsd, physical fight, the boys throw some punches..., slut shaming

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // Steve Harrington x fem!reader 

Summary: One night is all it took for everything to fall apart. Almost everything. 

Author’s note: @prettyboyeddiemunson thank you for helping me with some of the ideas for this part! <3 also, happy valentine’s day!

series masterlist 

-

As Steve is walking back and forth in his driveway, his mind keeps replaying the scene that happened in front of him mere minutes ago. He is both angry and hurt, his heart is hammering against his ribcage, his throat feels tight, angry tears fall from his eyes. He can’t believe that you kissed Eddie.

You love him, right? You don’t love Eddie, he is sure of that. You and Eddie are nothing but friends– he tries to convince himself of that but the kiss looked nothing like a kiss that was shared between two friends who played a drunken game of truth or dare.

You aren’t drunk and neither is Eddie, the kiss wasn’t just a kiss. The way you looked at him and the way you held onto him when you kissed him showed him that there is more than just friendship, no matter how many times he tries to deny it, it’s obvious.

He runs his fingers through his hair, he looks up into the dark sky and he takes a deep breath “man, what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he closes his eyes.

His mind takes him to the day at the diner, when you told him to let you go. He kissed you and you kissed him back but something felt off, he could tell that there was something on your mind or someone.

He thought about the movie night at his place. Him and Robin got suspicious of the marks and hickeys on his neck, Eddie looked at him with a smug face, like he did something that would anger him.

“You wouldn’t like the answer, Steve.”

His eyes open and he drops his hands, he lowers his head and his eyes fall on his car, suddenly it all begins to make sense.

Hot rage shoots through him, he clenches his hands into fist and huffs in anger.

“I can go on dates and hook up with other people too, right?”

You asked him to let you go, so you could move on. You asked him if he would be okay with you going on dates with other people, not because you wanted to find someone else but because you already found someone; Eddie.

Of course he noticed that you have gotten closer but he never questioned it. You and Eddie have always been friends but you weren’t close until recently.

He never questioned why both you and Eddie started to cancel plans with him, he never questioned why you suddenly always drive home with Eddie instead of him after you all hang out, he never questioned the looks that Eddie gives you, he never questioned the subtle touches between the two of you but now he questions it all.

Steve feels betrayed and cheated on. You promised him that you would wait for him, you promised him that you wouldn’t move on and yet you already did, with his best friend out of all people. And Eddie? He knows how he feels about you and yet he had no problem betraying his best friend like this.

“They always sat in history class together and he always stared at her with this look in his eyes and now look at them, that’s so romantic!”

Eddie has been pining after you for so long already. While he listened to Steve talking about you, he had spent time thinking about you himself. He always knew that Steve wanted you and yet that didn’t stop him from going after you, it didn’t stop him from trying to steal you away from him.

He storms back inside the house, the loud music suddenly hurting his head and all the people make him angry, the smell of vodka stings in his nose. He pushes past a few people and goes back into the room you have all been in but he finds it empty.

He slams his fist into the doorframe and steps back into the hallway.

He goes through every room, trying to find you and Eddie, the more time passes, the angrier he gets. A part of him feels nervous that he might find you and Eddie in one of the guest rooms or even worse, what if he finds you fucking in his bedroom? The thought leaves him seething.

But he doesn’t find you in his bedroom, he finds you and Eddie in the kitchen, he freezes as he walks in and for a moment, he does nothing but stare at the two of you.

You are sitting on the kitchen counter, Eddie is standing between your legs, his hands on your waist, his face buried in your neck as he presses kisses to your skin. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your eyes are closed as you giggle.  

Steve’s heart drops to his stomach, his brows furrow and his eyes burn with tears.

“Eddie,” you giggle, moving your hands to his face, you cup his cheeks and pull him away from your neck “that tickles,” you mumble. Staring into his eyes, you smile as you pull him towards you “kiss me.”

“Gladly,” Eddie says before he smashes his lips against yours.

You moan against his lips and wrap your legs around his waist as you deepen the kiss.

Yeah, this is definitely nothing new. You and Eddie have kissed before and as he thinks of how flustered you looked at the garage yesterday, he knows that you have done more than just kissing.

His jaw clenches in anger and he feels the urge to push Eddie away from you and hit him.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak up, Robin stumbles in, through the living room “hey, lovebirds!”

You and Eddie pull away from each other and stare at your friend with shy looks on your faces.

“As cute as this is, I gotta steal y/n,” she grins, winking at Eddie who grows flustered. She grabs your hand, trying to pull you away from Eddie but he tightens his arms around your waist “nope, get your own girl, this one is mine.”

Both you and Robin burst into a fit of giggles.

“I wanna dance with her!” Robin exclaims, trying to push Eddie off of you.

He groans and rolls his eyes playfully “okay, fine.”

You smile at him and ruffle his hair as you press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere without me!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie smirks as he takes your hand, raising it to his lips, he kisses the top of your hand “I’ll wait for my princess.”

You giggle and Robin rolls her eyes “oh my god,” she mumbles as she pulls you away from Eddie and out of the kitchen.

Eddie looks at you like some lovesick puppy, a smile lingers on his face even after you’re gone. He looks deep in thought, a blush is coating his cheeks.

“What the fuck, Munson?”

Eddie’s smile falls and he turns around, eyes locking with Steve’s angry ones.

Steve walks closer to him, his fists are clenched and he looks like he is ready to fight him.

“What was that?”

Eddie shrugs, “what was what?”

He can see the rage in his best friend’s eyes and it makes him angry.

“The kiss back there, this kiss right now?” he asks, “explain that to me, why are you kissing my girl?”

A laugh leaves his lips and Eddie shakes his head “your girl?” he scoffs, “she is not your girl, man.”

“You know how I feel about her.”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at his best friend with a pissed off look on his face. If Steve just knew how Eddie feels about you, how he always felt about you.

“And you know damn well how she feels about me,” Steve says angrily.

“Are you fucking serious, Harrington? You say that now while you got some other girl here?” Eddie scoffs, shaking his head “tell me, how do you feel about y/n, when you take other girls out on dates or when you fuck other girls, hmm?” he asks.

Steve’s words only ever leave him with so much anger inside of him, his ignorance never fails to surprise him.

“What does that have to do with anything? You are touching something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and a humorless laugh falls from his lips, “something?” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath “man, you are my best friend but you’re a real fucking asshole.”

“You’re one to talk, I told you how I feel about her, I told you that she is the girl I want to marry and yet you go behind my back and try to take her from me?” he asks as he inches closer to Eddie.

Eddie clenches his jaw, he uncrosses his arms and narrows his eyes as he looks into Steve’s darkened eyes “she doesn’t belong to you, I’m not taking her away from you,” he mumbles, “she’s not a fucking thing that you own, that you can just play with whenever you feel like it. You brought another girl here tonight, you touch her and kiss her in front of the girl that you call ‘yours’ and expect her to what– be okay with it? But the moment she kisses someone else, you react like this?” he scoffs as he points to his angry face and the glassy eyes “you expect her to be the ‘pretty little thing’ that waits around for you until you’re done fucking every girl in this shitty town but oh wait– she is supposed to be the cute little wallflower who waits for the asshole to swoop her up into her arms. Man, grow the fuck up. You don’t deserve her and you never fucking did.”

Steve looks into his eyes and right now he feels nothing but hate for the man he considers his best friend.

“And you do?” he mutters.

Eddie shrugs “I don’t know but I sure as hell know that I’d take better care of her than you ever could. Unlike you, I only ever had eyes for her.”

“So do I,” Steve mumbles, glaring at him.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, “yeah sure, man.”

Not feeling like talking to him anymore, Eddie pats his shoulder and turns to walk out of the kitchen, something that only leads Steve to get more angry.

“This is why you got so mad at me, right? Because you want her, because you want her to move on with you. Well guess what? That won’t happen.”

Eddie halts in his tracks, he stares at the ground, anger rising up in him.

“She loves me, Eddie. No matter what. You can take her out on dates, you can kiss her all you want but that’s all, I will always be the one that she will love.”

Eddie’s eyes darken and his face settles into an angry frown, his knuckles itch and it feels like the only thing that will relieve this tickling feeling is a punch to Steve’s face.

“Yeah well, guess what?”

Eddie doesn’t mean to bring this up, for all he knows, you still want to keep this a secret but with the way you kissed him in front of all your friends and even now, where anyone could have walked in, he guesses that you no longer care about anyone finding out about your little ‘affair’.

He turns around to look at his best friend.

“She begged me to make her forget about her feelings for you, so it doesn’t really seem like she wants to love you any longer, Steve,” he mocks him, tilting his head.

His eyes flash with hurt and he draws back a little “w-what?”

“She doesn’t want to love you anymore, she said so herself and guess who’s fault that is? Yours, man. It’s all your fault, you pushed her away from you, you kept breaking her heart over and over again and even if she does give you a chance, things will never be the way she wanted them to be because you ruined it, you broke her trust, you showed her that she is not good enough for you, can you imagine how much she was hurting?”

Steve opens his mouth to say something but Eddie cuts him off.

“No you can’t because you don’t care. If you did, you wouldn’t have done all of this, you wouldn’t have presented your girls to her, you wouldn’t kiss her and then tell her that you aren’t ready for a relationship because you keep wanting to have ‘fun’ and you definitely wouldn’t think it’s okay to hurt her, you can’t make it up to her, man. It’s too late, even if she’s gonna choose you in the end, a part of her is broken because of you.”

Steve shakes his head and he huffs angrily, he wants to say something, anything but he doesn’t. He looks down, trying to blink the angry tears away. In his head, he didn’t do anything wrong, it’s still Eddie who is at fault for this mess.

“Did you fuck her?”

Eddie needs a second to react, he blinks and stares at Steve with a dumbfounded expression. He really thought that he had changed, especially after everything he had gone through but a part of him was still King Steve.

“Are you fucking serious? That’s all you care about?” Eddie asks, the volume of his voice makes the other man flinch a little.

“I just asked you a question, Eddie,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Why do you care? Do you expect her to stay a virgin for you?”

Steve doesn’t answer his question, he just stares at him as though he still waits for the answer.

Eddie scoffs and throws his hands up “you know I really thought that you have changed but you are still a fucking asshole, King Steve.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for a reaction or a word from him, he turns away and walks out of the kitchen.

Steve swallows harshly, he grips onto the edge of the kitchen counter and closes his eyes. Anger and jealousy is deep in his bones and he feels like crying and screaming.

He is mad at Eddie and he is mad at you for hurting him like this.

He sighs and reaches for the whiskey bottle on the counter, he takes it and storms out of the kitchen.

-

Dancing with Robin quickly turned into dancing by yourself once Nancy was back from wherever she went when Robin came looking for you. For once, you have thought that she wanted to spend time with you because she just felt like it but of course she only came looking for you once her new best friend was nowhere to be found.

Robin is holding Nancy’s hands, they both laugh as they dance to the music. You watch the smile on Robin’s face as she leans in to whisper in her ear, something that makes the other girl giggle as she holds her hand in front of her mouth.

You don’t know why but seeing your best friend replace you so easily with someone else hurts you more than Steve picking other girls over you. You never thought that Robin would do this, you never thought that she would put someone else before you. You used to be inseparable and no one could come in between the two of you but things changed, they always did.

If your best friend, the one that you grew up with, the one that you did everything with, the one you shared all your secrets with, the one you almost died for could do this to you, then what can you expect from other people?

It’s always only a matter of time until someone better comes along and takes the spot that you only owned because you were the best option at that time.

You should just turn around and walk away but you need to talk to her, you need to know why she replaced you with Nancy out of all people– it’s not that you don’t like her, you do but she seems to get everything that you want.

First it was Steve and now it’s Robin.

You walk towards them and grab Robin’s hand, trying to get her attention. She turns to look at you, the smile on her face remains.

“Can we talk?”

“Huh?” she shouts over the music as she leans towards you.

“Can we talk, please?”

She nods and is about to pull Nancy along but you stop her, putting your hand on her shoulder “alone,” you say as you avoid looking at the other girl.

Her brows furrow and she turns towards Nancy “I–”

“It’s okay! I wanted to check on Jonathan, anyway!” she says cheerfully before she lets go of Robin’s hand and walks away. You watch her leave, walking towards Jonathan who talks to Eddie and Argyle.

Your eyes meet Eddie’s briefly and you give him a small smile before you turn back to Robin.

“Let’s go,” she says as she keeps holding your hand while she guides you out of the living room, pushing past a group of guys, she opens the front door and leads you out. You let go of her hand to cross your arms over your chest as you feel the cold wind on your bare arms.

You can hear the wind blowing through the trees and thunder rumbling somewhere far away.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Robin asks.

As you stand in front of her and look into her blue eyes, you can’t help but feel nervous. You never liked any type of confrontations, especially not with people that you care about.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest and you dig your nails into your palms as you think of what to ask first. She stares at you, waiting for you to speak up. She looks impatient and maybe even a little annoyed.

“Are you.. mad at me?” you ask slowly.

She frowns and tilts her head, “why would I be mad at you?”

“Well, we barely talked to each other since you came back and the summer is almost over. You are leaving soon and we haven’t hung out once together,” you shrug.

She furrows her brows and looks at you with a dumbfounded expression on her face, “what do you mean? We hang out all the time!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up, “we just danced together.”

“Yeah, you and Nancy danced together,” you say, huffing in annoyance “we only ever hang out when the whole group is together and even then, you hang out with Nancy and barely talk to me– hell, half of the time you act like I’m not even there and when you do it’s because Nancy is too busy with her boyfriend or whatever. Also, don’t forget about all the times that you have ditched me and canceled our plans just to hang out with her!”

You take a deep breath and look away as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

Guilt crosses her face and she sighs, she didn’t mean to me to hurt you like this, she never wanted to hurt you but truth be told, Robin felt herself drifting away from you, she started to lose interest. There was nothing wrong with you or your friendship but she grew out of it. Maybe it was just a phase but she needed distance from you.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore then that’s fine but don’t do this to me, just talk to me!”

She can see the tears in your eyes that are about to spill any moment, your hands are shaking and she doesn’t know whether it’s from the cold or from your anxiety.

She blinks, licking her lips, she looks away for a moment, “I-I do want to be your friend, I just–” she pauses, she avoids looking into your eyes “things aren’t the same anymore since last year.”

“Since you went to college you mean?”

“No,” she whispers, looking down at her hands, she starts to fiddle with her rings “since what happened in the upside down,” she mumbles, “with Eddie, I mean.”

Your face twists into confusion as you stare at her “what do you mean?”

“You haven’t been the same since that night. You shut everyone out after that.”

You had nightmares, every single night you saw him dying in your arms and there was nothing you could do about it, every night you woke up drenched in sweat with a racing heart and the same fear that you felt that night you held his dying body in your arms. You had to remind yourself that he was okay, that he made it out alive. Sometimes, you even called him just to hear his voice and make sure that he was okay– you needed to hear him, even if just for a second.

For the first time in years, you could finally let your guard down, you could finally rest, knowing that the upside down was gone forever, you should have been celebrating it but instead all the trauma caught up with you. All the fights took a toll on you that you haven’t felt all these years until you were finally able to rest.

You lost a part of yourself in the upside down but who could blame you? Who can just walk out of this as though nothing happened?

But it wasn’t the fights and the monsters that broke you, it was Eddie’s pleading voice and the way his glassy eyes looked back at you as he held your hand so tightly “don’t let go, please, don’t let go, y/n.”

You were struggling. You didn’t sleep much, you didn’t eat, you lost interest in things that you used to love. And it took you a while to get better but eventually you did. No one knew how much you were struggling and it was better that way, you didn’t want them to know.

“That’s not true,” you mumble as you sigh in disappointment, letting your arms fall to your sides “I never shut anyone out. You shut me out when you found someone better.”

She is getting frustrated and you can see it. Her eyes flicker with guilt but also with anger.

“That’s not true–”

“Yes it is,” you cut her off “and that’s okay. I just want to know why it was so easy for you to replace me with her. I mean, we’ve been best friends since we were little, we’ve known each other for years and then you spent a week with Nancy Wheeler and suddenly you are inseparable and I don’t matter to you anymore?”

Robin sighs and runs her hand through her short hair, she hesitates and looks around.

“This isn’t even about me, is it?” she asks.

“What?”

“It’s about Nancy! You’re pissed because it’s her– because I know you wouldn’t care if it was Eddie, Jonathan or even Argyle that I was hanging out with. You’re just angry that it’s the girl who once took the ‘love of your life’ away from you!” she says, mocking you.

She knows how much you were hurting when Steve asked you out on a date, just to cancel it to hang out with Nancy instead, shortly before they started dating.

Your eyes widen and you take in a sharp breath.

“Have you once asked yourself why I don’t want to hang out with you anymore?” she asks, “all you ever do is complain and whine about Steve, it’s tiring and I’m sick of hearing you complain about a love that will never happen!”

You know that she’s drunk, her red rimmed eyes and the way she slurs her words make it obvious. You know that you should have waited until tomorrow to talk to her but at least she gave you the truth now.

You feel angry and hurt. Yes, you did complain about Steve but she also complained about Vicky and her other crushes.

“You got someone who cares about you. Eddie likes you, so don’t fuck it up by talking about Steve all the time or he’s gonna get sick of you as well–” she stops and her eyes widen.

You blink, raising your brows, you nod as you look down.

So she did get sick of you and your friendship.

Robin sighs, “shit, I’m sorry–”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself,” you shrug, acting like she didn’t break your heart.

“”I just– I just don’t think that we work out anymore. We aren’t the same people we used to be,” she mumbles, waiting for you to look up at her, “I still want to be your friend but–”

“You want distance, I get it,” you say, looking back at her, you notice the guilt in her eyes. She knows the damage she has caused and yet she will have no problem walking away from you and going back to her new best friend as though nothing ever happened.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

Robin goes back inside after you lie and reassure her that you are okay, that everything between the two of you is okay. You still stand in the same spot as you did before she left. Tears well up in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, you close your eyes and take deep breaths.

The only sounds filling the silence is the music from inside the house and the wind blowing through the trees.

“Sucks doesn’t it? Being replaced.”

You open your eyes and turn around, you find Steve walking towards you. A half empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his hair a mess and his eyes glassy and red as though he had been crying for the past hour.

You blink your tears away and walk towards him as you eye him up and down.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask.

The last time you saw him like this was when Nancy broke up with him. He came to your house late at night, drunk and crying. You held him and let him sleep in your arms.

You reach for the bottle and take it away from him “did you drink this all by yourself?” you gasp, staring at him wide eyed.

He ignores your question, a look of betrayal rests in his eyes “why did you do that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you kiss Eddie?”

Oh.

You did notice the empty spot next to his date after you pulled away from the kiss but you honestly couldn’t care less, you were too focused on Eddie and the smile on his face after you kissed him in front of your friends.

“Because I wanted to.”

He furrows his brows and blinks as a new wave of tears well up in his eyes “but I thought you love me.”

Do you? Do you still love him after everything that happened?

“Is that why you’re drinking?” you ask, raising the bottle, “because I kissed Eddie?”

“That’s why you asked me if you could go on dates with other people right? If you could hook up with other people? You wanted him!”

You don’t know where the rush of anger comes from but you can’t stop yourself from snapping at him “oh my god, you are such a hypocrite, Steve!”

He draws back, eyebrows snapping up in surprise “excuse me?”

“You go on dates, you fuck other girls all the damn time and claim to love me even though you do all of this. But the moment I kiss someone else, you act like I fucking cheated on you!”  

“That’s because you did!”

A surprised laugh falls from your lips.

“This is a joke right?”

His face remains serious and he gives you a look that says ‘do I look like I’m joking?’

You sigh and shake your head at his behavior “do I have to remind you that we aren’t dating?”

He clenches his jaw and takes a step towards you “but you are mine.”

“No, I’m fucking not.”

He huffs, raising his hand, he runs it through his messy hair and looks up into the dark sky. The anger in your voice and in your eyes throws him off. You have never acted this way towards him, you have never once snapped at him before but you have obviously changed and he wonders if your feelings have changed as well.

It’s all because of Eddie.

The thought of you and him together makes him blind with rage. Everything was fine until he pushed his way in between the two of you.

“I’m not yours and I have never been yours, Steve. You didn’t want me, remember? So don’t stand here and pretend to be my boyfriend when you’re not!”

Steve can’t believe you, he looks into your eyes and right now he sees nothing but resentment. Gone is the love and the softness in your eyes.

“We went through so much together and you are throwing it all away for.. him?”

You laugh and shake your head “I am not the one who threw it all away, you did.”

“I have loved you ever since we were little kids, Steve!” you exclaim as you feel the frustration building up in you, the anger and the pain all catching up with you as you look into his glassy eyes.

“I have waited for you, for years and years but look what you did to us! You choose other people over me all the goddamn time. You broke my heart, you played with me and my feelings!”

It all goes over his head, there is only one thing that he cares about.

“Did you fuck him?”

Your shoulders slump and you roll your eyes as you lean your head back for a moment before you meet his eyes again.

You are done, you’ve had enough.

“Yeah. I’ve been fucking him this whole summer!”

His eyes went wide and his mouth twisted into a frown. His heart dropped and for a moment he just froze.

“He fucked me in his trailer, in my apartment, in your bathroom, he even fucked me on your car yesterday and I fucking loved it, every second of it,” you spit those words out and they lift the heavy weight off of your shoulders. The hurt look on his face does nothing to you in that moment– if anything, you feel good knowing that he finally gets to feel what you felt all these years.

Steve blinks, he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or to scream but the moment that Eddie walks out of the house and comes looking for you, rage and anger take over him and he looks back down at you.

You, the girl who swore to wait for him, the girl who swore to love him no matter what hurt him in ways he can’t even begin to describe.

He can’t stop himself, everything inside of him screams at him not to say those words and yet they fall from his lips anyway.

“You’re a desperate slut.”

Your lips part in surprise and you feel as though you have been punched, you freeze and stare at him in shock.

Steve regrets his words right away, his face falls and his heart jumps as he realizes what he just did.

Eddie’s eyes widen as well, his chest burns with anger and he clenches his hands into fists as he walks towards Steve “what did you just say to her?”

You step away, watching him through your blurry vision, your hands begin to shake and your heart starts racing as you see the anger on his face, “Eddie–” you gasp as he throws a punch at Steve’s face, who stumbles back in surprise, falling to the ground, he grunts in pain.

Eddie steps forward and leans down, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, “you wanna say that again, asshole?”

You watch them in shock, you want to jump forward and pull Eddie away. You don’t want them to fight because of you.

Steve looks up at his friend, turning his head, he spits the blood out “fuck you, Eddie,” he mumbles, taking him off guard, he throws a punch at him causing him to stumble back in surprise.

“Eddie!” you gasp, you finally drop the bottle you were holding this whole time and rush towards him, wincing as Steve throws another punch at him. This time it’s Eddie who falls to the ground and your heart instantly stops as you get reminded of the night in the upside down. When he was lying on the ground, struggling to breath, struggling against the pain in his body.  

You run towards Steve, stepping in between him and Eddie before he can throw another punch, you place your hands on his chest and push him away “don’t touch him!”

His eyes flicker with hurt as he looks down at you “y/n–”

“Stop, just stop!” you snap at him.

He watches the tears fall from your eyes, your bottom lip is quivering and you look at him with so much hatred in your eyes.

You step away from him and turn towards Eddie, who sits up, holding his hand up to his nose.

“Eddie,” you whisper as you kneel in front of him, pushing his hands away, you grab his face and look at him in worry.

Eddie can feel your shaky hands, you sniffle, trying not to cry. His eyes soften as he hears you say “I’m sorry.”

Steve watches the two of you, he breathes heavily. His anger won’t disappear, if anything, it keeps getting worse. He wants to hit Eddie, again and again. His feet carry him forward, he sees red, his hands are shaking from how tightly he clenches them. He can’t stand the sight of you taking care of Eddie that way, looking at him as though you love him, as though you only ever loved him while you turn your back to the one you always claimed to love.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

You look over Eddie’s shoulder, Argyle and Jonathan make their way towards you, confused and worried expressions on both their faces as they look between you three.

Eddie grabs your hand as you both get up, you hold his tightly, scared that he and Steve will throw more punches at each other, you put your hand on his chest, looking into his eyes “please, can we just go?” you whisper to him.

The action and looks you share with Eddie seem to anger Steve even more, he steps forward, wanting to pull you away from Eddie but Argyle steps in before he can touch you.

“That’s enough big guy,” Argyle mumbles as both him and Jonathan stop next to you and Eddie.

Jonathan eyes him warily. Steve stares at Eddie the way he once stared at him before they had gotten into a fight.

“Let’s go inside,” Argyle says to Steve as he slowly approaches him.

Steve shakes his head.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, pushing Argyle’s hand off his shoulder before he walks towards you again but this time it’s Jonathan pushing him back.

“Don’t touch me, Byers! Don’t you fucking touch me!” he yells at Jonathan who tells him to calm down. 

You have never seen Steve this angry and violent but it scares you.

“Let’s go, Eddie. Please,” you whisper, tugging at his hand.

His eyes meet yours and they soften when he sees the scared look in your eyes.

“Please.”

He nods.

“Okay.”

If you had known what this night would turn into, you would have never come to this party.

Friendships broke tonight.

Not just yours and Robin’s but also Steve’s and Eddie’s.

Guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Steve looked at Eddie with so much hatred in his eyes, he didn’t even hesitate to hurt him back and it’s all your fault.

You never wanted this to happen.

Tears roll down your cheeks as you walk into your apartment, keeping your head low so that Eddie won’t see you cry but he isn’t stupid, you kept staring out the window on the drive home, not looking at him even when he asked you questions. He heard your quiet sniffles and you refused to let him see you cry.

He doesn’t know whether it’s because of what Steve called you or because of something that happened before Eddie found the two of you arguing in the empty driveway.

You are crying because of the argument with both Steve and Robin but you are also crying because of all the flashbacks and pictures in your head after you Steve punched Eddie hard enough for him to fall to the ground as blood began to drip down nose and lips.

“Wait for me in the bedroom? I’ll be right there,” you say quietly as you walk into the bathroom and shut the door.

Eddie nods to himself, he turns to look at himself in the mirror, you wiped all the blood away when you got into his van, the spot under his eye is aching though and he already knows that he will spot an ugly bruise.

He hears your cries in the bathroom, his heart breaks at the sound. He turns around and stares at the door, he can’t just walk away and wait while you struggle all by yourself so he walks in, despite you telling him to wait for you.

His eyes soften at the sight of you sitting on your bathroom floor, holding your knees against your chest as you cry.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers softly, he kneels down in front of you and cradles your face in his hands “sweetheart,” he sighs.

Your cheeks are wet, your eyes are all red and puffy already, the mascara runs down your cheeks. Your bottom lip is trembling. You look into his eyes and put your hand over his.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whisper shakily.

Eddie furrows his brows, shaking his head “what are you sorry for?”

“Everything.”

Your shoulders begin to shake and you shut your eyes tightly, you press your lips together as you try to keep yourself from sobbing.

“Oh, y/n.”

He sits down next to you and grabs your waist, pulling you on top of his lap so he can hold you. You lay your head on his chest and wrap your arms around him. Eddie holds you tightly, running his fingers through your hair.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

His heart breaks at the sound of your cries, he does his best to calm you down but he figures this is exactly what you needed. Crying it out.

You rarely show your vulnerable side, you never cry in front of other people, you keep it all to yourself, you are the one who stays strong for others but you can’t do it tonight. It’s all too much and Eddie can tell that you are not just crying because of what happened at the party, it’s all the things that came catching up to you.

You breathe his scent in, you focus on his voice and on his heartbeat. His touch makes you feel warm and comforted. Being with him feels like being at your favorite place, where the sun shines down on your skin and you can let go of your pain and forget about all the things that cause trouble to your mind. With him, you feel free, you feel light and safe. You can let yourself fall knowing that he will be there to catch you.

“I got you, Sweetheart,” he whispers.

You move your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, hugging him tighter than before. He rubs your back and leans down to kiss your shoulder.

Eddie closes his eyes as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your sweet scent in. Your cries quiet down after a while but you remain cuddled against him, not letting go just yet. He can feel your hand in his hair, brushing through his curls.

You whisper something under your breath but your words are incoherent and he can’t make out what you said but he feels surprised to feel you clinging to him the way you do.

He felt surprised when you kissed him earlier. He felt surprised when you jumped in front of him when Steve went to attack him for a second time.

He doesn’t know what to think or what to feel but tonight, you chose him. Not Steve. 

Tonight you are his. 

He pushes all the anger and all the pain away, wanting to focus on just you. 

“Eddie,” you whisper as you lean back to look at him, raising your hands towards his face, you lay your palm against his cheek and look into his pretty chocolate brown eyes.

“Yes?”

He brushes your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ears.

“I’m sorry that he hurt you,” you whisper as you stare at him with your glassy eyes. Resting your thumb on his cheekbone, you eye his face, making sure that he has no other injuries.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is, he wouldn’t have done this–”

“He’s a hypocrite. You aren’t his girlfriend and you and I can do whatever the hell we want, okay?” he mumbles, giving you a pointed look.

“But he hurt you,” you mutter, moving your thumb down to his lips, “I never wanted this.”

“I know you didn’t.”

For a moment, you are quiet as you look into his eyes and you realize just how lucky you are to have him here with you.

“I was so scared,” you whisper.

Eddie doesn’t know that you are talking about a different night.

“Nothing happened, I’m okay, you hear me?” he whispers as he leans in, kissing your lips “I’m okay, I’m here.”

You nod, putting your hands over his.

“Now let me clean you up, you’re a mess, baby,” he smiles a little as he pinches your cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He expects you to get up but instead you lay your head on his shoulder again causing him to chuckle.

“You want some cuddles?” he smiles.

You nod against him, “yes,” you place your palm on his chest, looking up at him “will you stay with me?”

“Always.”

He smiles down at you, you lean up a little and press your lips against his. He kisses you back right away, cradling your face as he closes his eyes. The kiss is sweet, soft and gentle and yet you feel every single emotion he pours into the kiss.

Your heart flutters just the way his does. Your kisses and your touches always feel so magical to him, like they heal him and give him strength, they make him feel your love.

You stay in his arms for a few more minutes before you get up, to clean your face, you look into the mirror and sigh as you see the mascara streaks on your face “I look horrible.” 

Eddie chuckles as you pout, “nah, you’re adorable.” 

You smile as you stare back at him through the mirror, you reach for your cleanser and turn the water on. Eddie remains standing behind you, he gathers your hair, pulling it back, he grabs one of the scrunchies on the counter and puts your hair into a ponytail before he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, he watches you with a small smile on his face. 

He is upset by what happened tonight. Steve hurt him without a moment of hesitation, he looked at him like he hated him and Eddie can’t deny and say it doesn’t hurt because it does. He is his best friend but he also hurt you and that is not okay. 

“Let me,” Eddie says as he reaches for the moisturizer in your hand. 

“Okay,” you whisper, smiling as you watch him place it back on the counter, he washes his hands quickly before he grabs the moisturizer again, opening the little container, he gathers some of the cream and puts it on your skin, tapping your nose, playfully. 

He looks concentrated, his brows are furrowed, his tongue pokes out between his lips as he applies the moisturizer. 

Eddie is beautiful, everything about him is beautiful. 

You love his chocolate brown eyes and the way they look back at you with so much softness in them. 

You love his plump lips and the way they feel against yours when you kiss. 

You love the way his hands always feel so gentle on your skin. 

You love the way his hair shines so prettily in the sun and even the way they tickle you whenever he buries his face in your neck. 

You love his voice, you love hearing it in the morning and late at night when he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. 

You love his laugh and the way it makes your heart flutter. You love the way he makes you feel. 

Your face grows serious as you into his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat as you heart starts beating strongly in your chest. 

You always tried to make sense of your fear and of the pain that you have felt when he almost died in your arms and when you woke from your nightmares every night after that moment but you never understood, not until now. 

“Wanna have some of the leftover chocolate cake?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You nod, smiling. 

“Come on then.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you lean in and kiss his cheek, he places his hands on your waist. 

“I adore you,” you whisper. 

He smiles, “yeah?”

You nod. 

“I adore you, Sweetheart.”  

And I love you. You both think to yourselves. 

-

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[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name ch.4

You can read it on AO3!

If you prefer tumblr: Chapter 1 can be found here. Chapter 2 can be found here. Chapter 3 can be found here.

--

Danny couldn't stop thinking about Tim's questions about where he was from.

A big part of him hadn't wanted to tell the truth, but a bigger part hadn't wanted to lie.

When they—he, Sam, and Tucker—had crafted his new identity they had decided to keep Danny's hometown as Amity Park because it was easier not to slip up if he had fewer lies to keep track of. And Danny already had more than enough of those.

They had banked on Amity being a small enough town that no one would recognize it, and more importantly; not recognize him.

But of course people would ask about his past, it was a normal thing to do between friends. Right? There was no reason to panic. 

Danny just had to become better at quelling the panic and remember the lies so that no one got suspicious and figured him out.

Sadly—or thankfully?—he didn't have time to dwell on the fact that his one and only new friendship was one wrong question away from crumbling, not now when ghosts had started appearing in Gotham.

So far he had been able to avoid getting dragged back into the fighting by threatening most of the ghosts that had shown up to leave him, and the city, alone. Several years of fighting had, if nothing else, made sure that most ghosts at least listened to him.

Which was good since Gotham’s own vigilantes arrived quickly at almost every scene and Danny didn’t want to risk using his ghostly abilities too much and reveal himself, or—even worse—bring his parents here.

That wasn't to say that he was ready to fight if he had to, because he absolutely wasn't. He wasn't even sure he could fight right now with how his body felt.

At first he had chalked it up to a side effect of his massive growth spurt, especially since he very much doubted that it was of a normal, human origin. What with the late and sudden onset, the unnatural speed with which he had shot up and filled out, and considering his increasingly otherworldly appearance it probably had a ghostly origin.

But he doubted that it was the root-cause of his sickness since he had stopped growing, but was only feeling worse.

Maybe his sickness was a side effect of getting his arm removed under such traumatic circumstances. Maybe it was some sort of infection. 

He had almost gotten used to the alarming looks his sudden dizziness earned him and his staggering runs to the bathroom to throw up—what felt like—all his insides. His constant joint pain that wasn't helped by his cobbled together prosthetic arm. His headaches and his too-green nosebleeds.

Because of the whole on the run and living on the streets thing he had been trying out for the last few months, he hadn't exactly had the funds nor opportunity to go to a doctor and have the arm checked out and his own experiences and conversations over the phone with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz only got him so far. 

Now, he did have a job and an apartment but he really didn’t want to risk having to answer any hard questions on just how he managed to lose an entire arm and why he had then proceeded to quite obviously cauterize and stitch it up himself.

Of course, Danny knew one other person with a prosthetic arm and Frostbite had never withheld information from him, but he hadn't had a chance to meet up with the yeti again now that he had first-hand experience.

Whatever caused it, the fact of the matter was that Danny felt like shit and that he was happy he hadn't had to fight anyone lately. But with the number of ghost sightings rising every week, his luck might not last. He didn’t know why ghosts had started to appear in Gotham, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think he didn’t have anything to do with it. And if ghosts had started showing up in town because of him , then it was his responsibility to deal with them. 

History loves repeating itself.

Danny was currently busy coughing up a lung and trying not to let any of the ectoplasm that dribbled out of his mouth stain his clothes, all the while debating whether it was worth the trouble to stagger the rest of the way to the convenience store for his dinner, when he felt the all-too-familiar sensation of cold clawing its way up his throat and escaping through his gritted teeth.

Great.

And that was all he had time to think before he was body-slammed to the ground.

Danny tried to twist in the air, to get out from underneath whoever had attacked him, but large hands grabbed his shoulders and slammed him into the pavement. His face pressed against the rough ground and Danny instinctively raised a hand, ectoplasm building beneath his skin and ready to burst forth, before stopping himself and remembering his human disguise, that he couldn’t fight enemies openly anymore. Not as Dante Armstrong, regular dude, and definitely not as Phantom, his parents no.1 target.

Danny twisted enough under the weight pinning him down to glimpse Skulker grinning down at him with a victorious smile. He wasn’t surprised.

“What are you doing here, Skulker?” Danny gritted out.

“If you thought you could escape me by coming here, then you're dead wrong. I'll hunt you down wherever you go, little whelp.” Skulker grinned down at him with fire in his eyes as his hands tightened on Danny's shoulders until the grip went from uncomfortable to painful.

Ancients, Danny itched to blast the bastard right off him and into the nearest building. He had enough to deal with as it was without someone trying to skin him alive but there were people around, staring at them and screaming. Of course there was. He couldn't very well yell “ going ghost!” and expect no one to see him.

Despite what Jazz always said, he had learnt some things over the years.

But that didn’t mean that he would just lie here helplessly. He tried to buck the other ghost off with just a touch of super-strength, hoping no one saw anything out of the ordinary. If so; Danny would just have to find a new town to live in. It was okay. Really. The thought didn’t make him want to cry or anything.

Skulker growled and Danny decided to try the same approach he had used in most ghost attacks in Gotham. Talking to them. Jazz would be so proud. Even if the talking in question was more akin to threatening .

Danny made sure his fangs were on full display as he growled, “If you don't get off me right now I'll tear open that flimsy tin-can you call a body and drag you screaming out of your own mouth.”

Skulker paused. They had fought enough times for him to know that they weren't just empty words. Most ghosts just needed a little reminder.

Maybe not a preferred way of conflict resolution from a human standpoint, but far from mindless. Just another thing his parents had been wrong about.

Danny consciously flashed his eyes and Skulker immediately jumped back. As he staggered to his feet, Danny gasped as he tried to force the ectoplasm back down.

That short release of energy almost startled Danny from how good it felt. Like releasing some of the pressure on an over-pressurized pot. He had to wrestle back control not to let out any more than he already had, but he couldn’t risk doing that in the middle of the street.

But Ancients, he wanted to. For the first time in months, his headache lifted slightly.

He breathed deep to get himself back under control and lifted his prosthetic arm, as if aiming it at Skulker. “You're not the only one with inbuilt weapons anymore. You want to see what the weapon that took my arm would do to a full ghost?”

It was an empty threat, of course. Danny would never again go anywhere near that weapon if he could help it, much less carry it around, and he had absolutely no idea if it would be more or less dangerous to a full ghost. But Skulker didn’t know that.

“This isn’t over, whelp,” Skulker threatened as he floated backwards, eyes blazing. “I’ll get you eventually!”

“You’ve said that for years, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You won’t see me coming.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Danny deadpanned. Then he gestured with his arm, hoping that Skulker wouldn't see the way it was, in fact, shaking. “Now run along.”

Skulker swore and growled and grumbled, but he did turn invisible and fly away.

Danny felt his shoulders relax as his presence disappeared and he unsteadily lowered his arm back down, wincing at the pain radiating through his shoulder and back. He had been lucky; he didn’t know if he would have been able to actually win a fight with Skulker right then because of how bad he felt. Finally, he could go— 

And then Batman stood in front of him, as sudden and silent as any ghost.

Danny blinked in surprise as his brain automatically assessed the danger of the man in front of him; his multiple weapons tucked into his belt, his broad frame and muscular limbs, his sharp gaze fixed on Danny. Really, he was a lot more intimidating up close than he had been from the other side of the street, which was as close as Danny had gotten during the other ghost attacks.

Then he realized that he really should be trying to convince Batman that he was just an innocent civilian and definitely not involved with ghosts in any way, no sire.

Danny made his best impression of being scared and grateful for rescue, drawing from years of experience of being on the receiving end of it. “Oh, Batman! Thank you for saving me! I was so scared!”

Batman stared at where Skulker had been just a moment before for a few tense seconds before turning the full force of his attention towards Danny. And Danny froze, rooted to the ground, more scared now than he had been facing off against Skulker.

Batman kept his eyes on Danny, silent, but then Red Robin suddenly appeared at his side. Maybe being silent as ghosts were a prerequisite for being a vigilante.

Red Robin had a kinder look on his face than his colleague as he asked, “Are you hurt?”

“I—I don't think so. I don’t—” Danny didn’t have to fake the trembling of his limbs. “I don’t know what happened. Suddenly he just—”

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Red Robin said with practiced patience. “What’s your name?”

“It—It's Dante.”

“Alright, Danny, can you tell us what happened?” Red Robin asked and Danny fought hard not to flinch at the use of his nickname. That made two people who had immediately defaulted to Danny –Red Robin and Tim. He was going to kill Tucker.

Batman, apparently fed up with the niceties, glanced down at Danny's arm and asked, “What did you do to make the ghost leave?”

And wow, Danny was tempted to offer him a cough drop, speaking in such a growly voice couldn’t be good for you. He just shook his head, forcing his eyes to water—thank you Maddie and Jack for teaching him that skill, who knew that having to hide everything from his parents would make him really good at acting scared��as he stammered out a pathetic, “I—I don't know. I just tried to keep him away and—and I don't know.”

He really hoped that him threatening Skulker with his arm could be interpreted as him raising his hand to defend himself at a distance. 

“What did it say?” Batman pressed, no hint of sympathy in his voice.

Danny shook his head. “Nothing that made any sense.”

Batman looked at him in what Danny thought was disapproving silence before Red Robin jumped in again, attempting to smooth everything over. “Go easy on him. He looks scared out of his mind,” Red Robin said with clear sympathy in his voice.

And Danny was. Just not of the ghosts like they assumed. He was scared of them . Ghosts, he was used to, but the two people in front of him were the ones that could drive him out of his new home.

But Danny nodded intensely and put on his most terrified voice as he said, “I thought I was a goner! The ghost could have really hurt me!”

“So you do know about—” Red Robin started before cutting himself off.

“How do you know it was a ghost?” Batman asked as he sent Red Robin a glare and he stepped back, letting Batman take over.

Fuck, fuckity-fuck. He had wanted to stay as far away from Batman's radar as possible, not suddenly be the sole focus of his attention.

What if they found him out? What if they too decided that all ghosts were evil?…What if they also decided that they wanted to try and cure him?

“I—I don’t—” Danny stammered out, desperately trying to come up with a good excuse. He was a ghost fanatic? Too close to home. He had been hunted by the ghost in question for years because it wanted to skin him? No one would believe it. He was a half-dead hero fighting ghosts since his early teens? Great response if he wanted to be thrown into Arkham. Instead he landed on a very meek, “I watch the news?”

Batman didn’t even hesitate before firing off the next question, “I’ve seen you before. At these ghost-attacks. What were you doing there?”

Danny tensed up. Of course Batman had noticed him and put two-and-two together. He was the world’s greatest detective.

Then Batman continued, voice just as gruff as before, “Why haven’t you told anyone if they’re attacking you?”

Or not.

He thought that the ghosts were there to attack Danny? It wasn’t completely wrong, even if Danny generally was the one attacking them to stop them from attacking others. Still, it was… nice that people didn’t automatically assume that he was the bad guy. Danny cleared his throat and looked away. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“That didn’t really work out, did it?”

Red Robin had apparently had enough of being sidelined, which was kind of funny for a sidekick, and stepped back into the conversation, “It’s not his fault he was attacked. Stop grilling him.”

Danny wanted to agree, but apparently his throat had other ideas as it chose that moment to seize up and cause him to double over again, coughing until he winced in pain.

Red Robin placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Batman’s gruff voice spoke up, “So you were hurt.”

“Yes,” Danny managed after a few deep breaths, ignoring how raspy his voice sounded. “Or, no. But it wasn't because of this.”

“Do you need to sit down?” Red Robin asked and if the concern in his voice was fake, he was even better than Danny.

Danny shook his head. “No, no, I need to go. I have a meeting with a friend and I’m already late.”

Red Robin withdrew his hand, sounding suddenly hesitant, almost guilty, as he said, “I’m sure they'd understand.”

Batman inserted himself into the conversation again with a, “We might need to get in contact with you to ask some further questions. What is your number?”

Red Robin rolled his eyes, and the fact that Danny could tell even behind the mask was a testament of just how often he must do it. “What he means is; Can you give us a number we can reach you at?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Do I get any in return?”

“No,” Batman immediately answered. Red Robin had no translation for that, just an apologetic shrug.

Danny let out a barking laugh. “At least you're honest.” So he rattled off his number and then scampered off, refusing to look over his shoulder but feeling eyes on his back the whole time until he turned a corner. 

He let himself slump against a wall, shaking legs barely holding him upright. Somehow he had survived. Still, he had thought he had gotten away from everything that had to do with ghosts. But now everyone here was asking him about them; Tim and Batman both.

He couldn’t afford any more slip-ups.

--

Danny dragged himself into work the next day, late and tired after his unplanned run-in with Skulker and subsequent meeting with Batman and Red Robin. To top off the whole evening Tim hadn’t even showed for their planned game-night, which might have been just as well since Danny had barely managed to get home before collapsing in bed.

After the short reprieve he felt after his confrontation with Skulker, stuffing all his ectoplasm back down felt even harder than before. It was as if that short, sweet, taste of freedom had made his body rebel even worse. The headache had come back with a vengeance and he held a handkerchief to his nose to stop the constant dripping, which alarmingly had started to turn more and more green. His joints hurt worse than right after the accident and if he wasn’t deathly afraid of losing his hard-earned job he would have stayed home and wallowed in his misery.

As it was, the walk to work hadn’t been easy with his whole body hurting even more than it usually did nowadays, even though he had left his prosthesis at home for the day.

When he finally stumbled through the door he was sweating, trembling, and wishing he had just caved and called in sick.

His misery and wallowing was interrupted when Tim poked his head into the room. “Hey, Danny, do you have time to take a look at something?”

Danny straightened up and plastered a smile on his face, hiding the paper he had been using to try and stem the blood dripping from his nose. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I have a project that I need another pair of eyes on.” 

Danny sent his boss, an older woman named Hannah, a questioning look, but she simply stared at Tim with wide eyes and then gave Danny a nod. 

For some reason, his boss never seemed to mind when Danny went to help Tim with something. She never argued and she would just agree with wide eyes and an expression that almost looked awed as she immediately agreed. It was as if she thought Danny was unbelievably kind to help Tim out. As if she was impressed that Danny could stand Tim.

If his boss wasn't otherwise so nice, Danny would call her out on it.

“So what is this project you wanted help with?”

Tim seemed to be distracted by his phone as they walked through the corridors, but at that he looked up and smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing. You just looked like you needed a break. What’s up?”

Danny grimaced at the fact that he was apparently so easy to read. “I had a run-in with Batman.”

Tim placed his phone in his pocket. “Was it the ghost attack?” 

“How did you know?” Danny asked in surprise.

Tim’s gaze flickered to the side and back. “It’s on the news.”

“Yeah…” Danny let out a long sigh. Of course it was on the news, but since Tim hadn’t seemed to know that he’d been involved he took some solace in the fact that he probably hadn’t been mentioned. “I got stuck in the middle of it last night.”

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Danny waved him off. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been in a ghost atta—” Danny cut himself off. He was too tired to monitor everything he said. He cursed himself.

Tim perked up. “So you do know about ghosts?”

Which was the second time in as many days he had gotten that question. Was he really so bad at keeping secrets? “Why are you so interested in them?” Danny countered.

Why would Tim, his new friend in another town, suddenly ask about ghosts? Danny just wanted to forget his old life, god damn it!

It was Tim’s turn to look a bit hesitant. “Well. There’s been a lot of attacks in the city lately by villains that seem… Strange. So I thought that maybe they’re ghosts?”

Danny really had no idea if that was a normal conclusion to jump to or not. He was the first to admit that his perception was a bit skewed. “Maybe,” Danny allowed.

“So you do believe in ghosts?”

Danny was so tired and he really didn’t feel like denying his own existence today. “Yeah.”

“But… you said your hometown wasn’t haunted?”

Danny cursed himself. Again. When would he actually learn? “Well. It’s not? It’s more accurate to say it’s under attack.”

Tim blinked. “Right.” He stopped walking. “So you know a lot about them? The ghosts?”

“Everyone from Amity knows about ghosts to some degree,” Danny said with a strained smile and as always; careful not to show his teeth.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “And what degree are you?”

Danny shrunk in on himself, uncomfortable. “I mean… That depends… I don't really—” 

Tim leaned back, hands up and with a slightly guilty expression on his face. “Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you. It's just—” he exhaled forcibly and, after what seemed like a short internal debate, said, “We might be having some issues that we think miiiight be related to ghosts.”

That got Danny’s attention. A ghost he hadn’t noticed? That was an issue.

That didn't mean that he wanted to get involved with whatever this was but the least he could do was to listen to what Tim had to say. As a friend he owed him that, at least. 

Tim combed a hand through his hair with a strained laugh. “You're not laughing at me. That’s a start.” 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “I'm from Amity Park. I’m used to worse.” At Tim's nonplussed expression he clarified, “We have our fair share of whack-jobs.”

“Are you calling me a whack-job?” Tim asked with a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” Danny deadpanned and smiled as Tim snorted, breaking some of the tension.

Tim took a deep breath and then hesitantly said, “I’m not really supposed to be talking about it, but honestly we’re at a bit of a dead-end. Do you think you’re up for bouncing some ideas?”

Now it was Danny’s turn to hesitate.

He didn’t want to get involved in any more ghostly problems. He had tried to get away. He had gotten away.

But it had really never mattered what he wanted, had it? The problems were already here, and if he had learnt something over the years since everything went to literal hell it was that ignoring your problems didn’t tend to solve them, it just made them haunt you.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

Not that this came as a huge surprise, he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Suck on that Jazz! He hadn’t been paranoid!

So Danny sighed, and prepared himself to have everything he’d worked for come crashing down. Again. “Yeah, sure.”

Tim brightened up. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny waved him off. “I have to help if I can, right? So, what’s up?”

“Well, we have this… Computer. It's not very important.” 

Which meant that it was very important.

Tim continued, “And it’s getting attacked by… something.”

“Right. And why would just think ghosts and not, I don’t know, a normal virus?”

“Well. It learns and adapts quicker than any virus I’ve ever seen.” Tim fumbled his phone back out of his pocket. “Just. Here. Look at these logs.”

Danny looked down at the readings clearly displaying ectoplasmic activity and cursed his whole existence. The only silver lining being that it was restrained to a closed system which meant that his parents shouldn’t be able to pick up on it. But this meant that they were dealing with a big and important computer acting up with ghostly readings. Yeah, there was someone he knew that fit that M.O. Just to make sure, he asked, “This is from the attacks?”

“Yes,” Tim confirmed.

Danny heaved a  sigh. First Skulker and now Technus? Well. In for a penny… “I might know who it could be, but I need to see it to make sure.”

Underneath his absolutely overwhelming desire to do anything besides “making sure”, Danny found that he was impressed that they had been able to keep up with Technus until now. That was no easy task.

“Wait. Really?” Tim looked genuinely surprised.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You asked me for help, didn't you?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would actually be able to help.”

Danny snorted. “Glad to disappoint.”

Tim laughed. “I'm glad you're disappointing!” 

Danny joined in, feeling a bit better about the whole disaster as he said, “Lead the way!” 

--

And that's how Danny found himself in an otherwise empty room occupied by a big computer which looked more high tech than anything he had seen before. Well, it looked to be composed of several different parts, but no less advanced for it. It reminded him of his parents’ and his own inventions; the best parts cobbled together to make something that was far beyond anything available on the market.

If Tim was the one who built it, then Danny suddenly felt a lot more comfortable with him poking around in his arm. The only question was; for what purpose was it built?

Danny didn't have very good experiences with rich people who liked to mess with science and computers.

He wondered if this computer also contained a creepy program modeled after some poor unsuspecting victim. Or data to make clones of a nearby child. Maybe even data about all the heroes in the world and plans how to take them down, or something equally ridiculous.

Tim looked from the computer, to Danny, and back, before saying, “Just try to focus on the ghost problem, alright?”

That only made him more interested, more curious. “Sure.”

But even that promise didn’t stop him from sneaking a few glances at the computer as he worked, but sadly he was unable to really get any useful information from it. Whoever owned it took security very seriously. After a short while, Danny leaned back and declared, “Yeah, it’s definitely Technus.”

“Technus?”

Danny just raised his voice as he said, “Yeah, Technus is a ghost who just sucks at everything that’s related to technology!” Danny made sure to pitch his voice even louder as he ignored Tim’s raised eyebrows, “He’s just the worst and everyone back home laughs at him! He can’t even figure out a light bulb!”

Tim frowned in confusion, but before he could do more than open his mouth, Technus—predictably—burst from the computer in a shower of sparks.

Tim staggered backwards. “Holy—”

“Yo, Nick,” Danny said with his hand raised in greeting. “So this is where you’ve been hiding out?”

“Ghost-boy,” Technus growled out, his body still halfway morphed into the computer. 

“I hope I’m not seeing you trying to possess this computer.” Danny tried to cross his arms, realized he only had one at the moment and settled for crossing it over his torso. “Do you want me to call Tucker?”

Technus froze. “No. I’ll just— I’ll just leave.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.” Then he added, “You know, my parents probably have some new tech for you to infect.”

Technus perked up, moving as if to leave, but then he hesitated and turned back to Danny. “I don’t want to owe you anything, so I’m going to give you some advice. All that ectoplasm leaking out is going to draw more of us in. You can’t contain a system failure, you know? You have to shut down the whole process or it’s going to cascade and destroy everything.”

With that ominous statement, Technus fizzled out like bad static and it wasn’t until Technus had left that Danny realized what he had just revealed to Tim about his own parents.

He relaxed minutely when Tim didn’t bring it up but instead didn’t waste any time before asking, “How did you do that?”

Danny shrugged.  “We have a sort of understanding.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

“Not really.”

Danny could tell that Tim wanted to question him, but he must have looked as uncomfortable as he felt—and Tim must have realized that he wouldn’t say anything more—because Tim just pursed his lips and asked, “And what did you mean about your parents?”

Aaaand there it was.

“They’re inventors,” Danny hedged as he tried to play it off.

“That’s cool! What do they specialize in?” 

Danny waved him off. “Different things. Nothing you would recognize.”

Tim looked like he wanted to ask more, but then he stopped, tilted his head, and asked, “What did he mean about system failure?”

Danny was infinitely grateful for Tim’s curiosity at the moment. “Who knows?” Danny shrugged. “Ghosts are weird.”

Tim pouted. “Do you have tips for how we can make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

“Nick won’t be coming back.”

“But other ghosts might?”

“I mean… Yeah.” At least Danny hadn’t been able to get them to stay away permanently. Yet.

“Can I count on you to help with them if they do?”

Danny hesitated. He didn’t want to say no and disappoint his new friend, but he also didn’t want to promise to help with things he didn’t want to get involved with and he definitely didn’t want to get more involved with ghosts than he had to. He had worked hard to stay under the radar of both his parents and the Bats in Gotham, and this would definitely not do that. He had enough experience to know that accepting this would be a slippery slope right down into getting found out and subsequently, into trouble.

“I’ll think about it.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, to push, but then he swallowed it down, muttered what sounded like “not a mystery” and nodded. “Thanks. And thanks for getting the ghost out of the computer.”

“Don’t mention it,” Danny said, and hoped that Tim picked up on how literally he meant it.

[multifandomimagin3s]

Them as Dads - 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Fluff, hints of angst

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon's childhood was, to say the least, horrific.

No child should have had to experience when he went through.

Those experiences have stuck with him all his days, emotions buried deep down to a point where he doesn't feel them anymore.

There's a distinct divide between Ghost and Simon - and since he's considered legally dead, he has no reason to drop his mask anymore.

Needless to say, when he found out he was going to be a Dad, he short-circuited.

Didn't even say a word, and just left.

Of course he felt guilty for it, and he knew that what he did was wrong, but he needed to think.

The last time he had even been around a child was his little nephew...

And that tragic part of his past truly was the final nail in the coffin for him.

He was terrified of being like his own Father.

He did eventually come back but for the duration of the pregnancy, a cocktail of emotions swirled in his stomach.

The day he held his child for the first time, he was stunned.

This tiny little human, with their little button nose and - his eyes.

He grew angry - angry at his Father, and by extension the World.

How could anyone bring something so small, so fragile, so perfect any harm?

Needless to say, he's a very protective Father.

If any of the Team were to meet the baby, he probably wouldn't even let any of his comrades hold them.

Maybe Johnny - but that's at a push, and he'd be hovering around him the whole time like a shadow.

He'd be soft for his child - but he'd try to be the strict parent, teaching them to be ready for whatever the world may throw their way.

If he had a daughter, would let her paint his nails - would sit there still as a statue, watching with soft eyes at how her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

Speaking of, regardless of the child's gender - boyfriends / girlfriends / significant others would absolutely be interrogated before they even step a foot through the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" "You're 16?? Cunt, you look 30!"

It would essentially be like that scene from Bad Boys 2 - Soap would definitely be Will Smith in that scenario, accepting no criticism~

Would try to be there for every life event and would feel a deep seated guilt if he couldn't because he'd been deployed.

Overall, from day one, he'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let history repeat itself - he'd give his child everything he ever wanted growing up and more.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

I can see him as a chill Dad.

He wouldn't let his child get away with murder, but he would be good cop 99% of the time.

Would absolutely spoil them rotten - they would have to so much as look at something they liked and he'd get it for them.

It would be his Mother that would have to try and get him to reign in the spending a bit.

Also carries the baby around in one of those baby carriers across his chest.

I think he has a big, close-knit family so the child would have a ball playing with all their cousins of mixed ages.

If he had a son, definitely tries to style his baby hairs into a little mohawk with gel.

Lets his kids express themselves however they want.

They want to dye their hair? He's driving them to the shops to get the supplies.

They want a piercing? As long as they're old enough, he's fine with it - and if they want him to go with them for moral support, he's already in the car.

I think the only think he'd be awkward about would be periods.

He'd try to be helpful...but he's not great at handling it.

C/N: Dad, I got my period.

Johnny: Oh - OH! Okay, that's - that's fine...ehh...do you...do you know what to do with it...or?

I can also see him just running into a shop in an absolute panic - asking the store clerk for assistance because he doesn't even know what he's looking for.

Returns home with three massive bags of supplies.

He'd be supportive with whatever they wanted to do in life - if they wanted to go to University, he'd help them with their application; if they wanted to get a job, he'd be helping them look for vacancies, driving them to their interviews; if they wanted to join the military however...he'd be reluctant, but he would never discourage them for pursing anything.

The only thing he'd have an issue with...is if his daughter got a boyfriend.

He'd not be as...hostile as Ghost, but the silent threat is always lingering in the air.

If anyone ever hurt his child, he can switch from fun-loving Johnny to Sergeant in the blink of an eye.

Captain John Price

That child has this man wrapped around their finger from day one.

Would give them the world if he could.

Would never smoke his cigars anywhere in the vicinity of them, and would hide them out of reach - especially during the curious toddler stage.

I can see him cutting up their grapes into smaller pieces, paranoid that they'd choke otherwise.

Has dozens of photos of them wearing his hat - even got them a toddler version of his own because they liked it so much.

Doesn't matter how old they are, they're still that little smiling baby in his eyes.

So needless to say, he's very protective.

Doesn't threaten potential partners - he doesn't need to, he's a Captain in the military, so nobody would be so stupid as to try and hurt his child.

Only brings the child on base when he knows that only people he can trust are there - ie. the 141 taskforce.

Follows the toddler as they waddle around, waving happily as they pass people - Soap ends up joining the little adventure since the little one took his hand and he didn't have the heart to let go.

Speaking of, despite not being given the official title, Soap becomes Uncle Soap the moment he claps eyes on Price's child.

Gaz too - he sent Price the photos he took of them wearing his sunglasses, a beaming smile on their face.

It came as a shock to everyone when they saw the child approach Ghost.

It even shocked Ghost when the child made eye contact with him - and didn't cry. Instead, they smiled, tugging on the leg of his trousers to be picked up. And, even more surprisingly, he did.

Price never has to worry about keeping his child safe - because god help whoever tried to hurt them when they have 4 highly trained SAS soldiers coming for them.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He’d be one of those young, cool Dads.

Buys himself and the little one matching shoes.

Also matching outfits are the thing, especially during the toddler stage.

His kid would be the drippiest kid in the playground.

FaceTimes and calls home whenever he can when he’s deployed, seeing their little smiley face just makes his day so much brighter.

When he’s home he’s more than happy to spent chill days just watching cartoons with them on the couch, making pillow forts - he probably enjoys it more than the kid to be honest.

I reckon he’d struggle to actually parent the child, and would rather be their best friend than an authoritarian figure - ironic, considering he’s a Sergeant.

So it would probably be up to the child’s Mother to reign him in when he’s being a bit too soft or blasé.

Helps his kid build the best Minecraft house.

Loves being able to bring the child on base, showing them off to the Team.

Price secretly loves having the little one around, and they’re often found chilling together in his office.

Would absolutely spoil them - whether it be new toys, sweets or anything they wanted, he’d get it for them without a doubt.

Uncle Soap once spiked up the little one’s hair to match his own mohawk - Gaz wasn’t mad about it at all, and thought it actually looked cool as fuck.

If he had a daughter he would definitely sit down and learn how to do little braids in her hair.

Would also let her put little clips and bows in his hair, painting his nails to match.

He’d just be so soft for his child.

König

When the child was little, Konig was absolutely terrified that he would end up accidentally hurting them.

They were so small, barely even taller that his knee when he was standing, and all he could think about was what if he accidentally stood on their little foot or walked into them without noticing.

So, most of the time, he carried them around.

Would read books to them at bedtime, teaching them German and English to the best of his ability.

I don't think he'd wear his hood around them often, preferring his child to see his face rather than two eyes surrounded by black cloth.

Was genuinely surprised when they didn't cry after seeing him with it on; their little hand touched the cloth before breaking out into a sunny grin, "Dada!"

He probably cried a little bit after that.

He didn't have the greatest time growing up - so I think if his child ever got bullied, he would struggle to compose himself.

In his eyes, his child was perfect, so for anyone to go and make them feel bad about themselves - or worse yet, make them cry, it makes him see red.

Doesn't go and threaten the child - he'd not cruel. But the sight of a giant, masked man looming over all the other parents at school pick-up is more than enough to put the fear into anyone who had been picking on his kid.

Would probably teach them how to fight and defend themselves from a young age - he wouldn't always be around, due to deployment, so it gave him some peace of mind knowing that they would be able to defend themselves.

[kenshimybeloved]

Hi!! Here’s a probably-too-long analysis of Kenshi and Johnny’s first scene together that’s probably just part 1 of a series where I over analyze every scene of these two!

In previous scenes, it’s made clear that Johnny is disappointed with the current trajectory of his life- his career is going downhill, he’s losing money, his wife is leaving him, and we see him drinking despite it being implied multiple times throughout the game that Johnny has had some kind of issue with alcohol/possibly substances of some kind. The nail in the coffin for his marriage is an argument not over just Johnnys spending in general, but the fact that he spent $3M on a sword that he refuses to get rid of. It’s not super clear initially why it is he feels so strongly about this particular sword- sure he doesn’t wanna get rid of anything Chris lists, but the sword seems to strike a nerve when she suggests reselling it. Why is it he’s so fascinated with its deep history? Are we to assume Johnny is a history nerd in this timeline? That’s what it seems to imply when you’re first playing this part of the game, but as it goes on we learn this is all Liu Kangs doing. Liu Kang admits to using Sento as a means to introduce Johnny and Kenshi to each other (this is confirmed through a fight intro with him and Kenshi), but since he also does his best not to interfere too much with free will, he leaves the meeting up to them.

[side note: I find it interesting that it’s confirmed Liu Kang had Johnny buy Sento so that Kenshi would eventually come looking for it, considering that Liu Kang also likely new this would be the demise of Johnnys marriage. Him meeting Kenshi this way was more important than his literal wife. Not that the marriage wouldn’t likely end eventually anyways- just interesting that he felt the need to speed up the process]

Immediately we see he’s extremely disappointed in them for fighting, but what honestly did he expect? And I don’t mean that sarcastically- legitimately, why would he expect anything different? To Kenshi, Sento is the key to freeing and leading his family out of the Yakuzas grasp- nothing else matters to him at this point. To Johnny, Sento is a prized possession- one so important he let it get in the way of his marriage. He very clearly isn’t ready to let go of his old life (as evident through him attempting to pitch movie ideas to uninterested producers and flirt with a wife who’s been emotionally detached for quite some time), and he’s not letting go of Sento either. Sento means far too much to the both of them for either of them to let it go without a fight. However, while normally this would cause a significant rift in the relationship between the two people fighting over an object, this time the object seems to be the very thing forcing them together. But more on that later when I eventually analyze the scenes of them at the Wu Shi Academy! Lastly, I’d like to point out that even this early on in their relationship, Johnny is very clearly infatuated with Kenshi as a person. I mean imagine spending $3M on a sword because you find the history of one of the first families in Japan incredibly fascinating, just so that one day a supposed member of that presumably dead family breaks into your home demanding the sword. But Kenshi is cold, closed off, and (seemingly) completely uninterested in Johnny. And to me, this is what really reels Johnny in. Kenshi being Taira clan was already enough to get Johnny hooked- but add onto that that Kenshi doesn’t give a flying fuck about him? That just leaves room for gay pining baby!

[theunsinkableship1]

LOVE SEASON IS "FINNALY" HERE!

DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Do not read if you're not a shipper. This is PURELY FICTIONAL. No harm intended.

It was a quiet Friday evening, and Nicola was packing up her things in her trailer after another long day on set, lost in thoughts of how much things had changed. She missed the parties she used to host during their season, Fridays used to mean champagne and enjoyment with the cast and crew, but now, all she wanted was to get home, and above all she missed Luke, she missed sharing the make-up trailer with him, those were times filled with laughter and fun. Now, every moment around Luke felt heavy, tinged with a mix of nostalgia and heartbreak. The past weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, and she had managed to maintain her composure only by keeping her interactions with Luke mostly professional rekindling their friendship little by little. It had been incredibly difficult; they had just filmed their first intimate scenes as a couple for the new season, and although the professional side of their job was completed, the emotional undercurrent between them lingered like a charged atmosphere. Nicola had to keep her emotions in check every time their eyes met; the unspoken history between them was palpable. The way Luke’s touch felt against her skin, the warmth of his breath on her face, and the closeness that once felt so natural now sent her heart racing. Each kiss, though scripted, felt like a battle against her own desires; she had to catch herself from slipping into old feelings, holding back the urge to fully immerse herself in the familiar comfort of his embrace.Nicola often felt sad and uneasy in Luke's absence, like a piece of her life was missing. Without him, there was a constant sense of imbalance, as if something crucial was out of place. Luke had always made her feel secure, confident, and grounded. His presence boosted her energy, allowing her to live more fully and embrace happiness. With him, everything seemed lighter; he brought strength into her life that she couldn’t find on her own. His support made her feel unstoppable, and being with him just made everything better. She fought hard to maintain her composure, to remind herself that this was just a role, but every scene brought them closer, blurring the lines between performance and the raw emotions that still simmered beneath the surface. She had gathered all strength she had left to endure these first weeks. She had been friendly, and everything went well but that was it for today, she needed to recharge, she was exhausted

For Luke, watching Nicola from a distance had been a daily torment. He had seen her light up screens and stages, but now she was different with him, he could feel the space that was created between them, she was even more guarded than before. Even when she smiled or looked and him, he knew that she was reserved, it wasn’t the same He missed the carefree way they used to be around each other, the late-night laughs, and the unspoken bond they once shared. But his summer had been full of mistakes, missed opportunities, and an overwhelming realization that Nicola was the one person he couldn’t let go of. Luke also had remained professional, friendly but he was also acting as if nothing had changed, slowly approaching her more and more every day.

Before the filming days, Luke’s state of mind was a tangled mix of longing, regret, and jealousy, fueled by the glimpses he got of her summer through social media posts. Each update photos with friends and fans, scenic shots from events, and the occasional candid moment, although it filled him with joy was also like a punch to his gut, reminding him of what he had lost. Seeing her seemingly happy, surrounded by people, made his insecurities flare up. He couldn’t help but obsess over every detail: her smiles, the new faces beside her, the places she went. It all felt like a reminder that she was moving on, finding joy and connections without him. Luke’s imagination ran wild, envisioning her with someone else, and it drove him to the brink of desperation. His jealousy wasn’t just about who she was with but about the life she seemed to be building without him, a life that, not long ago, he had been a part of. He had called her in the summer, and though their conversations were warm, Nicola kept a noticeable distance. Luke had seen the songs she chose to share online, each lyric and melody feeling like they were meant for him. Her subtle support, the quiet ways she showed she still cared, made him fall for her even more deeply. But doubt gnawed at him; he couldn’t be sure if the messages were really about him or just wishful thinking. He clung to the hope that there was still a chance for them, but uncertainty loomed large, he didn’t know if he still had a place in her heart.

Seeing Nicola again during rehearsals and filming hit Luke harder than he expected. She tried to avoid him whenever possible, only spending the bare minimum amount of time required for their scenes or work-related tasks. It felt like a game of cat and mouse, Luke was constantly seeking opportunities to get closer, to reconnect, but Nicola kept slipping away, maintaining her distance and making herself elusive. Each time he thought he had a chance to bridge the gap, she would subtly evade him, retreating before he could truly reach her. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, running away just as he tried to draw near, leaving him frustrated yet more determined to break through her defenses. Her presence stirred a mix of longing and regret inside him; she looked so beautiful, radiant, focused, and guarded, maintaining a polite "pal" distance that reminded him just how far apart they’d drifted. Every stolen glance, every soft smile she gave to others, reminded him of how he loved to hear her speak, how much he had missed her scent, the closeness they once shared and now seemed lost. Without her, life was so draining, he felt at ease in her presence, it reminded him how little he had laughed without her.

During rehearsals and on set, Luke tried to bridge the emotional gap, using every moment of their scripted closeness as an opportunity to reconnect. He leaned into their scenes, savoring the way her laughter sounded, the familiar touch of her hand in his, and the subtle electric charge that still sparked between them. In unguarded moments, he would linger near her, trying to reignite the warmth and ease they once had, hoping she could feel the sincerity in every look and gesture. He missed her terribly, and being this close again, hearing her voice, feeling her body, only fueled his determination to find his way back into her heart, though he knew it would take time and patience to break through the walls she had put up.

Nicola and Luke were cautiously trying to rebuild their friendship, navigating the fragile ground between what they once had and what they now were. Nicola was always supportive of Luke, never letting past wounds interfere with her genuine concern for his well-being. Luke appreciated her maturity, recognizing how she never acted petty or held grudges, but instead, offered kindness that reassured him during his moments of self-doubt. He found solace in her presence, feeling a comfort that he had missed deeply, but he could also feel the lingering distance between them. While he cherished their time together, jealousy gnawed at him, especially when he thought about Nicola’s close friend, the one she often spent time with, the one he’d seen in social media posts. He wanted to be the one she turned to, her first call, her safe space. The thought of her sharing those moments with someone else stung. Luke realizing with each passing day that he wanted to be more than just a friend to her; he wanted to be her priority, just as he had discovered she was his. The ache in his chest reminded him that, despite all the progress they had made, his feelings for her were far from platonic.

Torn between the fear of rejection and the burning need to reconnect, Luke realized he couldn’t stand on the sidelines any longer. He had to take the risk, reach out, and try to reclaim what they once had, even if it meant facing the painful truth of her moving on.

A sudden knock interrupted Nicola’s thought, startling her. Without thinking, she opened the door, expecting a crew member. Instead, there he was, Luke dressed casually with a white t-shirt and black jeans, but the tension in his posture was evident, looking up to her with an expression that she couldn't quite place. His brows were knitted together, jaw tight, and his attempt at a smile seemed strained. She thought to herself what now? But she was an actress, and she had to be a great one now. Nicola, confident and in good spirits, tilted her head with curiosity.

"Luke, what’s up?" she asked with a light-hearted chuckle, trying to ease the tension she felt radiating from her insides.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice tinged with a frustration she hadn’t heard from him before.

Nicola hesitated but she said «Sure, come in,", stepping aside., gesturing for him to enter. Luke walked in, looking around her trailer as if searching for the right words. He finally turned to her, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

"How was the rest of your summer?" he asked abruptly. It was the first personal question he’d asked this week. Nicola raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his sudden interest.

"It was… great," she said cautiously, trying to read his mood. "I worked, met some great people, and had a lot of fun. You?"

Luke shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Alright. You’ve seen most of it… I’ve seen some of yours too," he added, his tone edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Luke hesitated before blurting out, "I saw that you were in Malta… "

Nicola’s heart skipped a beat at his words, her defenses rising. "Yeah, well, I’ve been busy," she started to say, but Luke cut her off, his voice softer now.

"Nic…" he said gently, and the sound of her name from his lips made her heart lurch.

She looked up, meeting his eyes, feeling the familiar pull between them. But she held her ground, not willing to be swayed by his vulnerability.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Nicola blinked, taken aback by the question. "Seriously, did he really ask that? Knowing what he did? she was getting angry. Why was he bringing this up now? Luke had already apologized and that was it. She had thought they had moved past this.

Nicola’s patience was wearing thin. Anger simmered beneath her calm exterior. How could he ask that now, after everything? She straightened her posture, refusing to let him see how deeply his question rattled her.

"Luke, you don’t get to ask me that," she said firmly. "Not after everything."

Luke’s mind raced. He knew he had messed up, that he had let his fears and doubts drive a wedge between them. But seeing her with someone else, knowing that she could move on without him, was unbearable.

“Answer me please “He insisted.

"I am happy," she answered firmly. "And I’m also exhausted. So, if there’s nothing else …"

Luke moved closer; his expression pained. "I need to know... are you dating him?" He took a deep breath, his frustration spilling over. "Nic, I can’t keep pretending. I’ve made mistakes but seeing you with him… it’s driving me crazy. "I need to know... are you dating him?"

Nicola’s eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her ears. He was mad surely. How did he found the courage to ask that? He may have lost his mind during his summertime; those Italians and Spanish sunrays are fierce.

She pulled back, shaking her head as if trying to wake up from a bad dream. "Luke, this is none of your business."

"Please, just answer me," he begged, his voice laced with worry.

“Do you love him? He dared to ask with jealousy in his voice.”

Nicola’s calm facade cracked. "Luke, we work together. I need you to respect my boundaries. You made your choices, and I’ve made mine. Let’s keep it professional".

“I can’t!” he almost screamed.

What? She replied dumbfounded.

“I must know if you’re with him. I can’t take this anymore.”

She was incredulous. She decided to go for the door.

He stopped her by kneeling in front of her.

His frustration bubbled over. "I can’t keep this professional anymore!" he almost shouted, his voice breaking.

Nicola was stunned. In all those years they’ve worked together, she had never seen him this troubled before. She stared at him, unable to process his words. "What do you mean?"

“"Nic, I'm really sorry. I should have been honest with her from the start, and I regret how things turned out after the premiere. That day was meant to be about us, and I ruined it. I was afraid to end things with her because everything was happening so fast, and I had already made a commitment, thinking we wouldn’t get there. I couldn’t handle the situation, and I’m truly sorry. I know it’s late, but I wanted to apologize again, deeply and sincerely."

Nicola was totally at a loss for words, moved by the sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you for saying that. It’s very nice of you... “

Are you dating him? He asked again cutting her speech.

“Why would you need that information?”

"I miss you," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I messed up, Nic. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. I ended things because I realized you’re the one. I’ve missed you every single day, and I can’t stand the idea of you with someone else. Nic., I thought I could, but I can’t pretend anymore. I want you."

Nicola’s heart pounded in her chest. She’d dreamed of hearing those words, but now they felt like too little, too late. "Luke, you can’t just show up and…"

Luke stood up, towering her totally as she wasn’t wearing heels.

“I want to know if you’re single because… I want to date you. I ended things with her. I’m tired of this Ross and Rachel bullshit.” I was miserable, I missed you so much all summer, I thought that I was going crazy, my world was upside-down, it turned darker every day, everything seemed boring and irrelevant when I was not with you, everything was tasteless and useless, you make my life so much better.

Nicola was stunned. Speechless. She was staring at him disarmed by his words. Her eyes softened as she saw the genuine pain in his. But she couldn’t let go of her own hurt.

“No” she simply said.

“I was scared, and I pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer. But I’ve realized… you’re the one. You’ve always been the one” he said moving closer to her.

"Nicola, I know I’ve made mistakes, but I want to be better for you. I want to be the person who makes you happy, who supports your dreams and never holds you back. You deserve someone who lifts you up, and I’m ready to do that. I’m committed to growing, to being the kind of partner who enriches your life, not complicates it. Let me prove that I can be the person who stands by your side through everything, who helps you find peace and joy. I want us to be something real, something strong."

Nicola felt her defenses crumbling, but she held her ground. " "Luke, you can’t just show up and expect everything to go back to how it was. You broke my heart, and I’ve worked hard to put the pieces back together. I think it’s best if we just stay friends." "

"I know," Luke said, his eyes filled with regret. "But I want to fix it. I want to be more than a friend, I want us."

She turned away, trying to collect her thoughts. The weight of his words was heavy, pulling at her resolve. "You hurt me," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know if I can trust you with my heart again."

Luke’s heart sank. He wanted to take back every missed opportunity, but he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was prove himself now. "I’m willing to do whatever it takes," he said earnestly. "I want you, Nicola.”

“Only you” he said moving closer to her.

Nicola looked at him, her expression torn between hope and caution. Her eyes filled with tears, torn between her love for him and the pain he’d caused. She had missed him too, more than she cared to admit. But she wasn’t going to make it easy for him, she wasn't ready to give up on them either."We’ll see," she said finally, her voice a mix of guarded optimism and lingering doubt. "But you’ll have to prove it."

Luke nodded, knowing he had a long road ahead.

“Don’t date another man. I’m yours".

"The only one “. He added with conviction.

His expression changed, his eyes darkened, a mixture of determination and desperation. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers. She backed against the wall, expecting his advance. The air between them crackled with unresolved tension. He gently lifted her chin, forcing her to fixate on his gaze. She saw the depth of his feelings, the intensity that had been missing.

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding. “I’m done going back and forth. I’m done waiting for the right time. I need you now.” He pressed his body against hers, his hands pinning her wrists against the wall. She let out a small sound, a mix of surprise and longing. His touch was electrifying, sending shivers down her spine.

He leaned in and kissed her left cheek his hand caressing her other cheek. " I want to be yours, he said gruffly “and I want you to be mine “he murmured in her ear, he moved a little to see her face, his eyes searching hers for any sign of resistance.

She could feel her resolve melting, her body responding to his nearness. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with need.

He leaned even more wanting to capture her lips with his, she parted hers delicately "The kiss started soft and slow, but it quickly turned voracious." She responded eagerly, deepening the kiss, her hand roaming through his curly hair. His moan vibrated against her lips, and he pulled her closer, his hands wandering about freely on her body, his hand grabbing her breasts, his lips kissing her everywhere with voraciousness, he was hungry of her.

They moved to the sofa, still lost in each other, Nicola put her hands on his bum, he growled with pleasure, she straddled him, their connection electric, both smiling and chuckling despite the intensity. For a moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of them, rewriting the stars one kiss at a time.

[pensbridge]

This is going to be my only post I ever do THIS. It needs to be said (if even only for me). Be warned. (& I'm totally being a little funny & unserious with my words, but I also mean it). but really I just need to be so silly for a moment..

I've been in some fandoms and every fandom goes through this, but...There's no fandom on earth that quite literally walked in with no changes to the picture of the Community meme like the Bridgerton fandom. yayyy! we made history again We are the exact same picture, because it wasn't that bad! I can nearly guarantee you, people noticed the quality change, but it literally wasn't bad like you say! Some of us truly stumbled in here like wtf, and still haven't gotten the answer. Stumbling into Part 1..was stressful, but Part 2 was actual insanity!

like, I honestly don't think some people watched it all the way (i saw something about ppl finishing in 2 hours)! If they even went back, who knows?! But the takes are just literal fables!

I actually think the blind trolls coming back from the dead & thin air for part 1 have deluded some of you into thinking that part 1 was bad (it wasn't; it was good), and as a result made you think that part 2 was worse than it is. I totally respect your differing opinion, but you're wrong!

There are 2 real "issues" with this season and the other stuff is artificial grass.

#1 The lack of happy couple moments that get replaced by boring side plots (part 1 was actually enjoyable to me, but this one I actually almost fell asleep watching Benedict before I was awoken by his bi awakening). But to be frank, it's always been an ensemble, and I find it funny that people forget: People bitched about polin season 2; they bitched about Penelope since season 1.

The fact that they don't get a full episode 8 of being happy in love was criminal (but i will admit my wrong expectation, because this is Bridgerton (what else is there to expect, lol). However they are cute! Naysayers, deny it all you want, but they are literally perfect! They are literally a cute engaged couple, the moms including Lady Danbury cannot help but squeal over them, and the only thing holding them back is that this conflict is seemingly dragged on, BUT it doesn't even go on long! (perhaps it felt that way because there were only 4 in this batch of eps). And I get you can be upset, but stop the bullshit because "WE WERE ROBBED." You are lyyyyinnnnnggggg.

He finds out in 6! Anthony was with her sister for 6 eps ... Simon....avoided her til she had to make the move at the end. If we're including Queen Charlotte, George got the most cohesive story, but we'll chalk that priviledge up to the fact that he got only 6 eps; and also don't lie, the recycle-rinse-repeat episode was boring(!!!!) minus the last scene & the visitation of his trauma (u can disagree w/this, but I was bored the first time watching and didn't ask for the copy & paste same episode).

#2 is the pacing (really the last 1⅓-ish episodes is the problem)- because I wish they made up by the end of 7, which is really more of the same of what I said about them being happier in the final one. However, (which brings me to my point) if they'd shifted him finding out earlier... (again they only had 1 episode prior to do this in (because there was no way it was happening in part 1 even if the 2 part split never existed), ...it could have fixed most likely all of this: if everything was moved up an episode (+ they switched Cressida's reveal + Colin finding out), they'd be fighting in 7 but united for Cressida's lie, then they'd make up by the end, and they wouldn't still be struggling with differences between them in the first part of episode 8 at all, thus there would be the happy couple moments from my point #1.

And I newly realized how this aspect of polin's season arc compares to the others. The conflicts of the other 2 seasons have been more heavily external obstacles preventing them from really getting together, while visiting some internal demons later after the drama; but this season is pretty much just them with internal conflict between them (if not for all of part 1 then for the entirety of part 2! (i personally think that the Debling stuff is less love-trianglry than what they've done in the past & fr he is in 2 eps really and not even fully courting her for majority of it)! Enemies to lovers does have internal conflict between them in the beginning, but it's not something actually between them that's "preventing" them from riding into the sunset (other than fake fighting like they hate each lol i say w/love 4 the characters & E2L). But since Colin and Pen's conflict is actually her (Whistledown) it maybe feels like they are more at odds than what is truly going on under the surface. Because they are established to love each other already unlike the other couples, who you are seeing the journey and getting to the end. While Part 2, you are seeing the unraveling of an established couple even though the love is there and the only important reason you need to get how they can work it out. We won on complexity and realness harder than the people w/bad takes can fathom, they have to make stuff up!

The other (kind of related for some) stuff:

The sex scenes: I get it! They lied (lol)! I hope we get them! But we know why it's lacking; they're deleted scenes; they exist! But the carriage scene - HOT. The mirror - HOT. The 30 second scene (lol) - HOT. But again: K*nthony got 2 spicy scenes their season! S*phne got a montage but it kind of sucked looking back (i'm not seriously hating but you know that it was too much, literally even then i think ppl knew) but plz don't start the ship discourse again & PLZ DO BE LOUD ABOUT THESE SCENES THO, I NEED THEM (lol)

But the love confession.....sssssssss. There were so many!!! *that book one is not good, i'm sorry (i'm being lighthearted here; you can disagree w/it but I do kind of hatttte it!)

"They didn't include..." don't know if you know but the writers make the story. Their story is not the book. You knew what you jumped into. (you can be sad but..) [i am not touching the conversation on Fran. But if we're really being real that side shouldn't wanna be grouped w/the side of The Departeds who are forever the head of online harrassers....by - now causing official pages to disable their comments (you don't have to tell me it wasn't all of you. I know 😔). it's actually kind of funny how I did not know like 95% of the actual discourse those first couple days (and there's a lot of discourse to see). but, anyway my main concern this whole post are my top 2 mcs. [ps the Departeds I meant traveling; i'm not that mean]

The misinterpretation of Colin: if you hate him, then go away! Thnx 4 the record-breaking views!

The baby? Cheers to 2 years in the future w/baby No Name! *lol* I'm not gonna say you shouldn't be upset about the name. For me, it was fine, because I knew they'd be back for s4. Also, preparation guys, I doubt we will even see the child that much if Daphne is any indication.

This show has never been comparable to your favorite Oscar-worthy film (literally obviously!), but the show is not terrible like some very widely popular of what's out there (and i'm not even talking about bad shows that everyone knows are bad). There is some depth to the characters and some ingrained-trauma to living in a male-dominated society with no autonomy, and traumas to the men as well. Re: the choices and drama every season. It's... a drama show! People need to go re-read the fantasy books if they want happy, lack of conflict all the time (and men yanking their wives by the wrists)... Go read fanfic if you don't like the show and a certain couple. Bridgerton is escapism and in some crazy overtaking of loud voices in the fandom, this fandom has been one of the least escap-ist fandoms ever. Because people will be like "*suspending my disbelief*" every 2 secs, but ...babe that's not doing what you just said. There's embellished "Based on a True Story" documentary fans that do this better than you tbh (i'm being a lil funny here, but honestly)

And I simply need to say this, regardless that it won't change, I need the acknowledgment jokes and the mental cleanse. if u don't want to read × The fandom...bro. I'm not even upset, I actually laughed at some of this - like, there's 3 types of people:

#1 offended people responding to op posts, because they don't like what they said; lol, the hypocrisy! The amount of people in my comments in this past month alone if I said something positive...abt the show, abt the characters...anything (new posts, old post) is more hatred than ever ever. The good polin fans are sensitive, but any and every bad typists in the comments are so easily offended...over positivity. Why.are.you.bitter?

"I'm bitter cause.." I literally don't care

#2 people reblogging things they hate to say what they hate. thnx for the notes??? bro, some comments on other ppl's gifs (rants on what they didn't like, crying abt a character/why they hate a character, and sometimes it has nothing to do with the scene gifed).

#3 "I'm allowed to be upset." why are you fighting for this? You can! Go in peace. Some people had no issues with what you say, but you are fighting this because you are determined to make people agree with your negativity no less. If you cared about the courtesy (i know that you don't) you'd let some ppl bask in what they weren't disappointed in & were excited to end the journey with (*and i expect nothing from the haters, but some of this was coming from inside the house lol). The reason you were wrong for this is because YOU WERE WRONG! There are ppl that liked it. You have no control; I get it. dw i'm sure you'll be fine.

Anyway, if anyone even read this far, you rock 4 that. If you got it, we're healing from this dumpster fire together; and if this even made 1 person laugh or feel better, it's worth it. I'm actually good now but it was rough that first stepping into the chaos and I had so many thoughts at first, so i wrote a lot from the initial shock those moments, [and now i'm in the laughing about this bullshit phase] so if u get it u get it (and can maybe have a chuckle) >>> This is literally just your neighborly (if ur nice here) joke!post *we're laughing thru the pain* / w/e to you (if you're not because i need to & this stuff isn't new & that one goes for all divisions of the fandom not just the main contented one of this post)