#i think i should mention that in case whoops

[veveisveryuncool]

oh yeah, i love sonic the hedgehog (shadow)! sonic (shadow) is such an iconic member of today's gaming industry! his likable personality (shadow) and nuanced characters (shadow) have always drawn me in (shadow) to the extensive franchise! sonic games (shadow the hedgehog 2005) are an interesting mix of story and action and hold a special place in my heart (shadow).

[reidmania]

you're my best friend | spencer reid

summary; you tell spencer he is your best friend to you its a indication of more to him its rejection.

warnings; best friends to lovers expect they dont make it to lovers whoops, angst whoops again, i think all lovers should be best friends, (un) requited feelings (ur both idiots) its short and honestly i dont remember writing this, mentions of dating other people but like whatever

an; yk that line in ‘you are in love’ by taylor swift thats like pauses, then say, you’re my best friend, and you knew what it was, he is in love? thats what gave me this idea im also just really fucking sad tonight and i miss my ex idk im also trynna be aesthetic am i aesthetic

any other night you wouldn't of cared to notice the way the streetlights blarred through the raindrops on the window or how the dark clouds lined the sky covering every showing star in their path. you wouldn't have noticed any of that if you weren't so focused on beiing focused on anything else.

anything other than spencer reid who was sitting beside you, driving you home. the case you had just got back from was long and angonizing. it was a complete pain to get through and it wasn't a secret that the entirety of the team were all ready to get home to their families and their own beds.

so, you weren't exactly estatic when remembering you hadn't driven to the office a week ago after being called in for the case, you were instead dropped off by your friend after the two of you needed to talk.

so you were car-less, and tired.

spencer reid, your best friend and possibly the nicest person on earth offered to drive you home without a second thought. even though he was equally as tired and ready to curl up into his own bed, he said he would drive you home and then refused to listen to any argument about it.

"are you okay" your head snapped towards the sound of his voice, his eyes glancing between you and the road, obviously noticing the rather disorientated look covering your features as you stared out the windshield.

you nodded, eyebrows furrowing. "yeah- yeah im just tired" it wasn't a lie, you were tired. you were also insanely confused about the feelings weighing on your chest everytime your eyes lingered on his for a moment too long.

he hummed, eyes returning to the road. you took that as your chance to look back at his face, bad idea.

your eyes danced over the curve of his nose and the line of his jawline and then the softness of his eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes every time he blinked or squinted at the bright lights of the road. you studied every indent over the soft skin of his cheeks and cheekbones that you could see from his side profile and your stomach warmed.

you turned your head away when that feeling returned, the one you were hyperaware of. it made your stomach feel as if it was burning a hole in itself, your heart ache and flutter at once and your head spin with the fact that it was wrong. so wrong.

“how’s ethan” he asked, his eyes remaining set on the road as he voice remained soft and quiet, like it seemed to always be when he spoke to you.

your eyes widened for a brief moment of the guy you had been, half kind of dating — if you could even call it that. you had been on a few dates. ethan worked at the coffee shop not to far from the bullpen, and asked you out two weeks ago. being surrounded by derek, emily and spencer didn’t exactly help the overwhelming expectation that fell on your shoulders in that moment.

derek answered for you, actually, in that moment. he had said you’d love to, and then teased you the entire way back to the bullpen after getting your coffee and you didn’t have the heart to pull out of the date, it wasn’t actually that bad — there was just something not right.

the more you hung out with ethan the more you realised there wasn’t actually anything wrong with him, he was nice, respectful, he made you laugh and you could talk easily. he was nothing short of a gentleman.

it was just, every-time the two of you had a conversation you waited for a absentmindedly long ramble about something random or a correction on one of something you pointed , and it never came. you waited for doctor who to be brought up and it never was. the movies you watched with ethan were rom coms and chick flics, or comedy’s rather than documentaries, or science films, or films in other languages that you had to rely on subtitles for.

he wasn’t spencer.

that was the only issue, and that why you had broken off with him before you went on this case, actually you had just finished breaking it off with him when you got the call which was why you were car-less since he had dropped you off.

you couldn’t in good conscience keep hanging around ethan after realising you had feelings for your best friend. you told him the truth and how understanding and respectful he was about it only made the guilt build deeper in your ribcage.

“i broke it off” you told spencer honestly. you wouldn’t lie or play it off there was no point in that. spencer would find out eventually you just wished that being honest didn’t mean it would come with questions.

his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, as his eyes flickered between the road and your face for a moment, you kept your gaze to the ground of the car, focusing on the carpeted floor rather than the feelings that swarmed in your chest that you honestly wished would just swallow you whole and get you as far away from actually feeling them.

“why? did he do something?” it was curious and gentle, like he was genuinely worried that this guy had done something that had hurt you — and it made your chest ache painfully, you genuinely felt physical chest pain at the sound of his words as they processed through your mind.

you shook your head quickly anyways, “no, he was.. good, great.. i just— didn’t feel it, y’know?” you huffed out, eyes still refusing to meet his. you were scared if you did that the confession would come blabbering pass your lips without a second thought because you were so use to telling him everything.

he let out a sigh of relief, glad that you weren’t upset or that this guy hadn’t done anything to hurt you. “i get it” he replied, his voice was gentle and careful. you wondered if he genuinely did — he always seemed to have a power of just reading your mind yet this time you were almost sure that wouldn’t be the case.

the car was pulling into park out side the front of your house moments later, and you felt a sort of sick feeling in your stomach. one that was indescribable to a t. the sort of feeling that left a bad taste in the back of your throat and made your stomach twist, the sort that left goosebumps trailing down your arms and the hairs stand on the back of your neck.

he said your name so quietly as if he had something important he needed to say. for the first time that car ride, since you had left the bau you met his eyes and every emotion you had pushed down into the darkest part of yourself bubbled all up to the surface again.

his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was trying to debate something, lips parted then closed in indecision, before he let out a half shaky breath, his eyes studying your features like yours to his. you felt your stomach twist.

“i need to tell you-“

you cut him off and you didn’t even mean to, “you’re my best friend, spencer.” that was all you said.

and honestly it held so much weight to you it almost felt like a confession in itself, he was your best friend, he was your person. he knew you better then you knew yourself, he knew you better than anyone ever would, he memories every scar on your skin, every little thing that effected you in a way that differed from others, spencer knew you, you loved him and he was your best friend

he was your best friend in a, i want you in my life forever kind of way. i want you by my side no matter what life throws at us, i want to know that no matter what happens you remain a constant.

you needed him to remain constant.

his lips closed at your words, eyebrows furrowing a little deeper to the point the skin between the crinkled slightly. there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you would’ve noticed if he hadn’t pushed it away before you could.

“you’re my best friend too.” he breathed out.

to spencer, you were the sun. everything obits you and your existence, he would give anything to be a planet that was blessed enough to be in your orbit. if he got a glimpse of you throughout the day his heart would remain beating properly in his chest and his feelings would remain a little lighter on his mind, you were calming, you were his safe place. you were his favourite part of everyday.

you were the one thing that kept him from falling apart half the time. you were his best friend and he was in love with you, so in love with you that he shut his mouth every time you went on a date with a different guy, because if you were happy and he got to keep you as a part of his life he wouldn’t beg for different.

you were his best friend and so he pretended like his heart didn’t hurt so impossibly much when you came to him when those said dates didn’t work out or ended badly and you rambled about how you thought there was something wrong with you, because how could you think that when to him the entire solar system fought to be in your orbit?

if you hadn’t cut him off he would’ve told you all of that.

instead he watched you wave him goodbye as you walked back into your house, a weight on his chest, at the words left unsaid that danced on his tongue behind his closed lips. ‘you’re my best friend’

his mind replayed the words with the reminder that that was all he would be to you, that was all he could be and he wanted to fight it and pull back and tell you exactly how he felt and the deepness his feelings fell to,

but then again at least this way he meant something to you.

[steveseddie]

my heart burns there too

steddie | rating: t | wc: 4,7k | cw: none | tags: misunderstandings, light angst, pining, eddie jumps into some crazy ass conclusions, but it’s all good in the end

for @steddie-spooktober day eight, prompt “bonfire”

read on ao3 here

The bonfire is Robin’s idea, but Steve is who extends the invitation to Eddie when he stops by Family Video one day.

“A bonfire? Won’t that get us arrested?” He asks, leaning on the counter and watching Steve operate the tape rewinder with a bored expression.

“Nah, man,” Steve says with a shrug. “Hopper is Chief again and you’d be surprised by how easy it is to get him off your back if you play the ‘I fought monsters with your kid’ card.”

Eddie lets out a snort. “Wish I had that all those times that he picked me up for dealing.”

Steve sniggers. The tape rewinder makes a loud clicking sound, signaling that it’s finished, and Steve removes the tape, putting it back in its case before rewinding a new one. “So are you in?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, never one to turn down the opportunity to spend time with Steve— and Robin, of course. “But I’m not holding hands with you and Buckley and singing Kumbaya.”

For some reason, that makes Steve blush. He ducks his head, fiddling with another tape. “Um, well, it’s not just us, Nance is coming too.”

Ah, Eddie thinks, now the blush makes more sense.

He tries not to let his disappointment show. He doesn’t want Steve to think he has anything against Nancy because the truth is that he doesn’t. Nancy is great— she’s nice, she’s smart and she’s fucking badass. He wasn’t lying during that Spring Break from Hell when he told Steve that he should win her back, Wheeler is a fucking catch. Even Eddie, gay as fuck as he is, can see it.

Only now things are different. Not the fact that Nancy is a catch, she still is. But now she’s single, and she and Steve have been inseparable since she ended things with Jonathan.

Oh, and now Eddie is stupidly and hopelessly in love with Steve so he’s just waiting for the day when they finally announce that they’re back together and break Eddie’s heart.

He doesn’t know what they’re waiting for and he kinda wishes they would just get the fuck on with it. At least then, Eddie could stomp down any hope of anything ever happening between him and Steve. Right now they’re in a weird limbo where some days Eddie will catch Steve’s gaze flickering down to his lips or he’ll feel his touches linger a little too long and he’ll think maybe, but then he’ll walk into Steve’s kitchen to find Nancy and Steve whispering with their heads pushed together only for them to break apart and go quiet the moment they see him or he’ll try to make plans with Steve only to watch him fumble for an excuse before admitting he’s hanging out with Nancy. And every time his heart shatters a little, so better to just rip the bandage off once and for all.

“Eds?”

Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his thoughts and he realizes that he fell uncharacteristically quiet at the mention of Nancy. So much for acting like he doesn’t have a problem with her. Goddammit.

He plasters a smile on his face. “Wheeler is coming, you say? Great! The more the merrier!” He says, hoping it sounds convincing enough. “Should I bring something? Lighter fluid? Marshmallows? Child sacrifices?”

A woman standing to the side of the counter, letting the kid in her arms pick something from the candy display gasps audibly, scowling at Eddie and switching the toddler from one arm to the other, further away from him.

Whoops.

Steve gives him a look— why are you like this? it says. Eddie shrugs.

“Just bring drinks, okay?” Steve whispers to him after giving the woman a placating smile.

“Sure thing, big boy,” he says, delighting in the baffled little pout Steve makes every time Eddie calls him that. “Anything else?”

“Well,” Steve purses his lips, thinking. “I’ve got everything we need for the bonfire, Rob is bringing the music and Nance is in charge of the snacks.”

“Tell her I want s’mores.”

“She’s way ahead of you, man,” Steve says with a chuckle. Eddie’s eye twitches— of course perfect Nancy already picked the perfect snacks.

Nancy isn’t your problem, Eddie reminds himself, the problem is that Steve’s straight and still hung up on his ex-girlfriend, and frankly, out of your league.

He sighs. “Sweet, I’ll see you and the ladies on Friday then.”

“Oh, you’re leaving already?” Steve asks, sounding almost disappointed. Other than the woman and her child, the store is empty and has been for the entire time Eddie has been here. He’s probably dreading being alone for the rest of a slow shift.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, “I promised Red I’d drive her to the skatepark and if I’m late to pick her up, she’ll beat me to death with her skateboard and I’m too pretty to die.”

Steve smiles at him, that little lopsided smile that Eddie likes to believe is reserved just for him. He’s never seen him smile like that at anyone else— fond, amused, endeared. “Yeah, you are,” he says and winks.

Eddie’s breath hitches, his traitorous heart thinks maybe but his brain stomps down that hope real quick.

“Careful, Stevie, or Wheeler might get jealous,” he jokes but it doesn’t come out as lighthearted as he wishes.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow but before he can say anything else, a group of kids comes barrelling through the door followed by an exhausted parent and they all walk up to the counter to ask Steve for recommendations for their movie night.

Eddie quietly slips away from the counter, giving Steve a lazy salute and getting a finger wiggle in return before the kids loudly demand his attention.

Six little nuggets, Eddie thinks, recalling a conversation between Steve and Nancy that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

His heart breaks a little more. He wonders how long it’ll take before it shatters completely.

***

To no one’s surprise, Eddie is the last one to arrive at the bonfire.

He parks his van between Steve’s car and Nancy’s station wagon at the spot Steve circled on a map when he gave Eddie directions. After swinging his guitar over his shoulder and grabbing the cooler filled with sodas and beer, he follows the smell of smoke and the sound of Buckley’s boombox through the woods.

He spots Robin first— feeding dry leaves and twigs into the fire and singing along to some pop song Eddie doesn’t recognize.

Eddie whistles appreciatively. “That’s one impressive fire, Birdie!”

Robin jumps, dropping the leaves and the twigs to the ground with a startled yelp. When she spots Eddie, her face breaks into a big grin and she clumsily steps over the logs arranged around the bonfire to hug him as best as she can with the cooler between them and Eddie’s guitar on his back.

“You made it! And you brought your guitar!” She says, bouncing on her feet with excitement.

“Yup, there’s no way I’m letting you make my ears bleed by listening to pop tunes all night,” he teases and gets a light punch on his arm for it.

“I didn’t know you could play metal with just an acoustic.”

“Metal isn’t all I know, Birdie, I have hidden depths,” he says, thinking about all the country and folk songs he knows thanks to Wayne.

Robin cackles. “Sure you do, Munson.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and then glances around, looking for Steve and Nancy but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“They’re picking up more wood,” Robin says when she notices him looking. “They should be back soon.”

Unless they got distracted making out, Eddie thinks, biting down on his tongue to not let the bitter comment slip past his lips.

As if on cue, they hear leaves rustling and then Nancy and Steve step out from the treeline. Steve is carrying the wood and Eddie gets to enjoy the way his biceps bulge from the weight before his eyes zero in on Nancy’s tiny hand wrapped around Steve’s arm. They’re in deep conversation, Steve listening intently and nodding as Nancy speaks to him with a soft voice, her hand never leaving his arm. They don’t even notice he’s there until Robin points it out.

“Hey! Look who’s here!” She says, oblivious to the downward turn of Eddie’s mouth.

Both Nancy and Steve’s heads snap in their direction and Eddie tries really hard to school his features into something casual and less green-eyed monster.

Nancy’s hand falls from Steve’s arm and the pile of wood he’s carrying falters a little before Steve hoists it up again, biceps flexing. Eddie tears his eyes from his arms to look at his face, expecting him to look like he just spent the last ten minutes making out with Nancy or like he just got caught red-handed but instead, he’s grinning widely at Eddie, eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

“Hey, Eds!” He says, attempting to wave with his elbow but giving up when a piece of wood falls to the ground, his cheeks pinking up in embarrassment. “Shit, Nance, can you—” he starts but Nancy is already picking it up and placing it back on the top of the pile. “Thanks.”

Eddie carelessly drops the cooler in front of him. “Hey, Stevie. Hey, Wheeler,” he says, sweeping down in an over dramatic bow. “I come bearing drinks.”

Robin whoops, throwing the lid open and grabbing a wine cooler while Nancy picks up a beer.

Steve forgoes the cooler, dropping the wood on the ground next to it and walking around it to pull Eddie into a hug.

It takes him a little by surprise but he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers against Steve's neck, feeling him shudder, probably from the cold. He's only wearing a polo shirt, and despite the fire burning next to them, Eddie feels a slight chill in the air even though his jacket. “You smell like smoke.”

Steve snorts. “Oh, so I smell like you?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to shudder as his brain provides a handful of other reasons why Steve would smell like him. He tells his lizard brain to cool it and pulls back. “Yup, exactly! And you should know the smell is a bitch to get rid of.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Steve says, shrugging. With a wink, he adds, “I like it.”

Which to Eddie sounds flirty and a lot like ‘I like the way you smell’ and it takes his brain a moment to recover from that, but he does it just in time to catch the beer Steve tosses at him, even if he fumbles with it at first.

“You did a good job with the fire, Stevie,” he says, expertly popping the bottle open and gulping half of it down.

He catches Steve watching his throat as he drinks and the way he gives a little shake of his head before glancing at the bonfire. “You only say that because you didn’t see my first two failed attempts,” he chuckles. “It was actually Nancy who got it going.”

Eddie’s grip on the bottle tightens. “What would we do without her?” He says, voice a little clipped.

Steve’s smile falters but luckily doesn’t ask what Eddie’s problem is. “So are you gonna play for us?” He asks instead, gesturing at the guitar still hanging from his shoulder.

“Not just yet, Stevie. I was promised snacks, I’m hungry.”

“Me too!” Robin jumps in.

“Oh, the snacks are in the car,” Nancy says, digging through her bag for the keys. “I’ll go get them!”

“It’s okay, Nance. Eddie and I can go,” Steve volunteers, and with a secretive smile, Nancy tosses him the keys.

“Don’t forget you gotta—”

“Jiggle the key to open the trunk, I know,” Steve finishes with a smirk.

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s pouting until Steve points it out. Luckily he thinks it’s because he volunteered Eddie to get the snack too, and not because Steve is finishing Nancy’s sentences. “Stop pouting, Eds, it’s not that far.”

“You only say that because you didn’t have to carry a cooler and a guitar all the way here,” Eddie responds snarkily before setting his beer down on the ground and falling into step next to Steve.

“I’ll do the heavy lifting this time,” Steve smirks.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s arm, feeling the taut muscle underneath. “Seems like you already have, big boy,” he says, his voice coming out lower and flirty now that they left Nancy at the bonfire.

With an undignified yelp, Steve trips over something and Eddie, who hadn’t let go of his arm yet, tightens his grip to keep him on his feet.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Eddie says and Steve curses under his breath. Maybe his foot got caught on a root and he hurt himself— it’s hard to see the ground when all they have is the moonlight filtering through the trees. “You okay?”

“Yup, yeah, thanks, man,” Steve stammers out, giving Eddie a tight smile. “Come on, we don’t want to keep Robin waiting, you know how she gets when she’s hungry.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh yeah, I know. I still have her bite mark on my fucking arm,” he says, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to point out the fading bruise from their last movie night when the pizza was taking too long to get there and Buckley decided to chump on his arm. “As if getting chumped on by demobats wasn’t enough!”

Steve sniggers. His eyes sparkle with something when he says, “Don’t think I can blame her for wanting a piece of you, though,” matching Eddie’s tone from before— low and flirty.

Eddie’s eyes widen, he stops looking at where he’s going to gawk at Steve and trips on a rock. With no one grabbing his arm, he goes down, landing on his hands and knees.

“Motherfucker,” he curses, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Christ, Eddie,” Steve mutters, hurrying to help him up.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” he laments with a chuckle, brushing off dirt from his pants and his hands.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly and then Eddie feels hands cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up until he meets Steve’s eyes. “You didn’t hit your head?”

Eddie shakes his head no, but the truth is he isn’t exactly sure— maybe he hit his head and now he’s hallucinating how close their faces are or how Steve’s eyes linger a little too long on his lips as they dart over his face, looking for any sign that Eddie hurt himself.

“Um,” Eddie clears his throat which feels a little dry. “We should get those snacks before the girls send a search party after us.”

Steve nods, and after letting his right thumb brush over Eddie’s cheekbone once, he drops his hands from his face.

Heat builds up on Eddie’s face, making his cheeks burn hotter than the bonfire.

They stay like that all the way to Nancy’s car.

***

Back at the bonfire, Robin snatches the marshmallows from Eddie’s arms. “What took you guys so long?” She asks, ripping the bag open and unceremoniously shoving one into her mouth.

“Gee, and they call me feral!” Eddie says and is rewarded by Robin hitting him with the bag of giant marshmallows. It doesn’t hurt, they’re marshmallows, but Eddie is nothing if not dramatic.

He grabs his arm where she hit him and falls to his knees, as if wounded. “This is what I get for braving the woods at night for your snacks, Lady Buckley? The nerve, the ungratefulness! I shall never recover!”

Robin lets out a giggly snort. She offers him a marshmallow on a stick for him to roast as an apology which he graciously accepts.

When he looks up, he finds Steve looking down at him with an amused expression. “Why do you insist on dropping to your knees in the middle of the woods? Your jeans are ripped enough as it is!”

Eddie’s mouth acts faster than his brain, leering at Steve as he says, “You don't like how I look on my knees, sweetheart?”

Steve’s eyes widen almost comically, his cheeks flaring an alarming shade of red. Eddie doesn’t get to enjoy the sight of a flustered Steve for long, his head snapping to his right when there’s a loud gasp that doesn’t come from either of them.

His eyes meet Nancy’s wide ones as they dart from Steve to Eddie to Eddie’s knees and back at Steve, her lips mouthing a silent, “Oh.”

Oh? Eddie thinks, ‘Oh’ what?

She can’t possibly mean— even if Steve said this isn’t the first time Eddie drops to his knees tonight, she can’t possibly think— oh Christ, does she?

Eddie is about to blurt out something along the lines of, ‘I didn’t blow your secret boyfriend in the woods, I just wish I did’ when Nancy’s eyes meet Steve’s and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees Steve firmly shake his head. That seems to be enough for Nancy, whose shocked expression melts away as she stands up and joins Robin where she’s roasting her marshmallow.

Eddie sits back on his heels with a sigh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, knocking his Nike against Eddie’s leg.

No, your girlfriend just thought you cheated on her with me! Eddie wants to say. “Yup, come on, let’s make some s’mores,” he says instead, pushing himself off the ground to go sit on one of the logs arranged around the bonfire.

He expects Steve to sit with Nancy, to appease her further but he sits next to Eddie, leaving no space between them despite there being plenty of room.

Eddie doesn’t mind, he loves having Steve close. Still, he can’t help but send surreptitious glances at Nancy every once in a while, averting his eyes when he finds her staring right back a few times.

He stops glancing at her when he gets distracted by Steve eating his s’mores— more specifically by him messily licking his lips and fingers clean. Not even his own marshmallow catching on fire can make Eddie tear his gaze away from Steve’s tongue lapping at the melted chocolate on his fingers, not until Robin screeches and points at the blackened little thing at the end of Eddie’s stick.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie curses as he pulls it out of the fire to blow on it, extinguishing the flames. Next to him, Steve laughs, lips stretched in a smug smile that it’s a little too knowing.

Holding the stick between his legs, Eddie squeezes the marshmallow between the crackers and the chocolate before taking a bite. There’s a slight burnt taste to it but it’s still good, so Eddie eats it enthusiastically.

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he does and he considers putting on a show like he did— licking and sucking on his fingers in an obscene way. But before he can, Steve is reaching out and wiping chocolate from Eddie’s bottom lip with his thumb.

Eddie’s breath hitches, his eyes widening.

Red blooms on Steve’s cheeks and he drops his hand to his lap. “Uh, you had chocolate on your lip.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” Eddie mumbles. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna— I need a beer.”

He scrambles to his feet, stepping over Steve to get to the cooler. He nearly drops the beer when he looks up and finds Nancy staring at him, lips pursed and a tiny frown between her eyebrows.

Did she see Steve do that? Is she mad? Eddie wonders, averting his eyes and staring at the flames instead.

And more importantly— what the fuck is Steve playing at?

***

Eddie finally gets his answer about an hour later.

The four of them are sitting around the bonfire, drinking beer and talking about everything and nothing. Robin and Nancy are sharing a blanket they grabbed from Steve’s trunk because, despite the fire that’s still burning, the air has only turned colder as the night goes on. Eddie is sharing a log with Steve— or he was until Steve stood up to put on his Members Only jacket and sat down on the ground instead, leaning against Eddie’s leg.

Eddie didn’t question it at first, assuming that Steve wanted to be closer to the fire while still leeching some of Eddie’s body heat, which is fine by him. But then Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie’s calf and dropped his head on Eddie’s thigh, essentially cuddling Eddie’s leg.

That’s also fine with Eddie. At least until Steve’s hand starts rubbing up and down Eddie’s leg, his fingers occasionally coming in contact with bare skin where his jeans ride up and his sock rides down while, at the same time, his hair is tickling Eddie’s skin through the rips in his jeans.

He reaches for Steve’s hair, intending to move it away from his leg but the moment his fingers touch the strands, Steve shudders and melts under the touch. Eddie doesn’t have the heart to push Steve’s head away so he ends up playing with his hair instead, brushing his fingers through the strands.

It’s maddening. All of it— Steve’s head on his lap, his fingers in Steve’s hair and the small noises it drags from him, Steve’s fingers playing with his ankle bracelet and his wiry leg hairs.

Suddenly, Eddie feels hot all over, and it has nothing to do with the flames bathing them in red and yellow and orange. And when Steve tilts his head and kisses Eddie’s knee it feels as if he might burst into flames.

But when he looks up and finds Nancy staring at them with what can only be described as a scowl —a jealous scowl— it’s like being hit in the face with cold water. Cold water and a realization. The realization that Steve might be doing all this to make Nancy jealous.

Eddie doesn’t know why exactly. Maybe he’s ready to go public with their relationship and he’s trying to bait Nancy into accepting. Maybe he’s getting back at her for whatever happened with Jonathan when she was still dating Steve. Maybe it’s just a weird fucking kind of foreplay.

It doesn’t matter what it is, Eddie knows he doesn’t want to be a part of it.

So he pulls his hand away from Steve’s hair, and as carefully as he can, jerks his leg free.

Steve turns his head, looking up at Eddie with big confused eyes. “You okay, Eds?”

“I, um. I need to smoke,” he lies, scrambling to his feet.

Steve looks even more confused at that. “You can do it here, you know? We literally all smell like smoke already,” he says with a chuckle.

But Eddie shakes his head. “No, I- I gotta go, sorry, Steve,” he stammers out, tripping on the log as he hastily heads back to the van.

Without stopping, he digs a cigarette and hiz Zippo from his jacket, lighting it up as he walks. He hears Steve call out for him once, twice then nothing. Eddie pretends it doesn’t hurt that he didn’t come after him but he’s got Nancy, so why would he?

“Goddammit,” Eddie curses, running his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

It falls on the ground when Eddie lets out a strangled scream as Steve materializes out of fucking nowhere.

He hurriedly snuffs it out as he tries to get his heartbeat under control. “The bonfire wasn’t enough, Harrington?” He scoffs. “Are you trying to get me to start a real fire sneaking up on me like that?”

“I didn’t sneak up. I was calling for you.”

Oh. Eddie might’ve missed that from the blood rushing through his ears. “What do you want?”

“Why are you leaving? What happened?” When Eddie doesn’t answer, Steve’s face scrunches up. “Did I do something?”

Whatever Eddie’s face does at that is answer enough and Steve’s shoulders slump. “Shit, was that too much— I’m sorry, Eddie, I thought—”

“That you could use me to make your girlfriend jealous? Yeah, well, a heads up would’ve been nice,” Eddie says bitterly.

Steve jerks his head back as if he’s been slapped. “What?”

“I’m just saying that I probably would’ve said yes if you asked. At least then I wouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, y’know?”

“I- I don’t know, Eddie, what are you talking about?”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie asks, “You were trying to make Nancy jealous by being all over me, yeah?”

Steve splutters. “Uh, no?”

Eddie frowns. “So what? You guys are in an open relationship or something?”

“We’re not in any kind of relationship!” Steve says, his voice loud and hysterical at this point.

“Please!” Eddie scoffs. “You two have been inseparable since she and Jonathan broke up! It’s obvious you’re back together!”

“We’re not, Eddie, we’re friends! Yeah, we’re closer than we were before but that’s just because—” he hesitates.

“Because?” Eddie prompts with an impatient hand gesture.

Steve sighs, glances over his shoulder to where Nancy and Robin are and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh, what the hell!” He says to himself. “We got closer because we both realized we have a crush on our best friend.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “Buckley?”

“No,” Steve says, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, Nancy does. She has a crush on Robin and I hope she’s telling her right now and that she won’t care that I just outed her to you—” His eyes meet Eddie’s and they’re open, vulnerable, hopeful. “But no, I don’t have a crush on Robin, Eddie, I have a crush on you.”

Eddie blinks. Then he blinks again. Then he pinches his arm hard but the world doesn’t fade away, he doesn’t wake up, he’s not dreaming. This is happening.

“Me?” He asks in a small voice. Steve nods. “So all of that— you weren’t making Nancy jealous you were—”

“Making a move on you, yeah,” Steve admits shyly, hanging a hand from his neck.

“Oh,” he says as he recontextualizes everything that has happened in the last couple of hours— hell, in the last couple of weeks. “Oh,” he repeats. “For what it’s worth it would’ve worked. If I wasn’t, you know, an idiot.”

Steve chuckles softly. “Well, good to know.”

Eddie bites his lip and goes on, a little nervous. “Yeah, and since I’m not an idiot anymore, if you wanted to like, make another move right now, I wouldn’t storm off or yell at you or—”

Eddie’s words are cut off by Steve making his move, which consists of him cupping Eddie’s cheeks, guiding his face to his and catching Eddie’s lips in a kiss.

Eddie stands frozen only for a split second before he loops his arms over Steve’s shoulders and kisses him back, feeling a fire bigger than any bonfire they could’ve built blaze wildly in his chest.

Steve dragging his teeth across his bottom lip only fuels the fire and causes Eddie to make a punched-out groaning sound that Steve chases with his tongue, deepening the kiss in a way that makes Eddie’s knees so weak they threaten to give out.

Before they do, causing Eddie to fall on them for a third time that night, Steve slows the kiss down to a full stop, ending it by nuzzling their noses together.

“You still are by the way,” Steve says.

“Huh?”

“An idiot,” he says, kissing the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “I can’t believe you thought I’d use you to make Nancy jealous!”

Eddie groans, dropping his head on Steve’s shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

Steve wraps his arms around him, kissing his hair. “Nope.”

“Yeah, I deserve that,” he says, nuzzling Steve’s neck. He jerks his head back as he thinks of something— “Wait, if Nancy wasn’t jealous then what’s with all the scowls and the glares?”

“Oh, she was jealous. Of me. For making a move on you while all she did was share a blanket with Robin,” Steve says with a laugh.

And Eddie can’t help but giggle at how ridiculous this all is. “Should we make her jealous a little more?” He asks, grabbing Steve’s hand with a wicked grin.

Steve nods, intertwining their fingers together and letting Eddie drag him back towards the bonfire.

***

They find Robin and Nancy making out next to what’s left of the fire, wrapped up in the blanket and each other. Quietly, they make their way back to the cars, climbing into the back of Eddie’s van, kissing until the sun comes up.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Bonding

Summary: You and Javi just brought your daughter Lucy home from the hospital. While the two of you couldn't be more in love and excited at the addition of your newest family member, it doesn't mean that you both aren't feeling some of the nerves of being first time parents.

Word Count: 2.4K (She's reasonable, your honor)

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: This is honestly just pure, sweet, sickening, fluff, mentions of body insecurity postpartum, worry/anxiety about being a first time parent, Javi snuggling a newborn baby skin on skin (it needs a warning fr), Javi being the cutest dad ever to exist, Javi is in full on dad mode, ladies and gents (gn) 🫡

A/N: This was inspired after reading @kteague adorable post about Frankie carrying his daughter in a baby sling, and I couldn't help but picture sweet Javi as a first time dad cuddling with his baby girl 😭🥺 and to @endlessthxxghts for being a bad influence 💀Y ou know for a fact that Lucy's got Javi wrapped around her finger from the moment she's born, and picturing the adorable bond these two have makes me want to melt into a puddle 🫠 also I have a raging case of baby fever, but let's pretend that wasn't entirely the motive to write this or that I'm not projecting at all WHOOPS

Part of the Forever and Always Series!!

From the moment you had found out you were pregnant, you had no doubt that Javi was going to be nothing short of the best dad you could have ever hoped for. Before your daughter was even born, Javi had completely flipped the switch into full Dad Mode, spending the past 9 months coming with you to every single doctor’s appointment, baby proofing every square inch of your home, and checking out (and re-checking out) every parenting book he could get his hands on at the library. 

So it was safe to say, that once you brought Lucy home from the hospital to start your life together as a family of 3, if Javi hadn’t already been full force into Dad Mode, he sure as hell was now, and was going to do anything and everything he could to make sure that the two most important girls in his life were showered with every ounce of love and affection he had. 

It was also safe to say that even though he wouldn’t admit it, Javi was also an absolute nervous wreck at the reality that he was now actually a dad to a tiny newborn daughter that had been brought into the world. 

“You think that her diaper is snug enough? Should I get a bottle ready just in case she gets hungry? Different pajamas to sleep in before we put her down?” Javi asked, carefully cradling Lucy against his chest as you passed her off to him, planting a soft kiss on her head, gently bouncing her up and down. 

“Javi,” You laughed leaning in to give your sleepy daughter a kiss on the messy tufts of hair ruffled on her head before looking back up at your husband, “I’m going to take a shower, not leaving for war. I’ll be quick, so that way if she needs me then I’ll-” 

“Hermosa,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at you as he smiled, “take as long as you need, okay? I’m just asking to make sure so I don’t have to bother you. Take an hour, hell, take 3 hours for all I care, you deserve it, Momma. I can’t imagine how exhausted you are. Me and Lucy Goosey will be just fine, won’t we, mi amor (my love)?” 

The two of you smiled as Lucy quietly cooed, your grin spreading even wider watching Javi’s face light up with joy as he looked down at his daughter, your heart practically bursting at the seams with how in love he was with her. But even through the pure bliss in Javi’s eyes, you couldn’t help but sense a nervous twinge in his voice, knowing that in the short day and a half that you’d been home from the hospital, even though you were only a room away, this was the first time that Javi was in charge of Lucy all by himself. And because you knew your husband better than you knew yourself, you knew that despite the fact Javi was probably better prepared for parenting than you were, he was secretly terrified he was going to do something that would hurt his precious baby girl, and the thought of that? That scared the shit out of him. 

“Javi?” You said again, gently rubbing your hand against his arm, forcing his gaze to shift on to you and your tired smile. “Honey, you know you’re an amazing dad right? But, I can guarantee that even though we would do anything and everything for this stinker, we’re gonna mess up at some point. You love her so much, and that’s all that matters, okay? I love you, Jav.” 

You could feel some of the tension begin to ease from Javi’s body, looking back down at Lucy before back to you, taking in a deep breath, and softly nodding his head to himself. 

“I know, it’s just- She’s so perfect. I wanna give her everything. I just, I just wanna be a good dad. I just want her to know that I love her so much.” 

As if you weren’t already an emotional mess, watching the tears well in Javi’s eyes as he gazed down at Lucy, looking at her like she was the only thing the world that existed, had your hormonal heart bursting into a million pieces, now trying to wipe your own wetness streaming down your cheeks. 

“Javi, I don’t think it’s possible for you to love that little girl anymore than you already do.” You sighed, stepping in to press a kiss onto Javi’s lips before another onto Lucy’s head. “Okay, I’m gonna go shower before I become even more of a hot mess than I already am. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” 

“Thanks, Osita. We’ll be just fine. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” 

“And hey, you’re not a hot mess, just hot.” Javi smirked, making you roll your eyes as you gestured to yourself and the undeniably disheveled state you were in. 

“Javi, I look like I just rolled out of a dumpster. I am literally wearing an adult sized diaper.” 

“And no one’s ever made an adult sized diaper look hotter, Hermosa.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking your head at your husband as you finally turned to head out of the nursery, giving Javi and Lucy one last wave before disappearing out of the door frame and into the bathroom for a much needed shower. 

“Alright, it’s just you and me, pollita (little chicken).” Javi smiled, rocking Lucy against your chest, taking a deep breath of reassuring confidence, feeling more self-assured about his time alone. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, huh?” With another kiss on Lucy’s head, Javi carefully laid her down on her changing table, reaching into one of the drawers to pull out a tiny onesie covered in pink flowers and strawberries. 

He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at how absolutely tiny the pair of pajamas felt in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that all of this was real- for so long, Javi had been convinced a family of his own would never be in the cards for him, and for as much as it hurt, he’d come to accept it. But when you had come into his life and given him the second chance that he had so desperately longed for, he still couldn’t quite believe how he had deserved to find himself here with a beautiful family, a wife and daughter he loved more than life itself, and how he couldn’t have been happier to be dressing his newborn baby girl into a pair of tiny pink pajamas. 

Checking Lucy’s diaper and tossing her clothes into the hamper, Javi zipped her up into her pajamas, noticing that she was starting to get squirmy and fussy, he quickly picked her back up, pressed against his chest as he made his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. 

Despite the steady movement back and forth and the gentle rocking, Lucy’s cries only started to become louder, Javi trying his best to keep calm despite the fact his heart was racing, thinking he had already done something wrong to upset his daughter in the few short minutes they had been together. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhhhh, it’s okay bebita, it’s okay.” Javi cooed, gently patting Lucy’s back to try and soothe her. “What’s wrong, huh? It’s not your diaper, Momma fed you before she got in the shower, I wonder if it’s-” 

Before Javi could finish the rest of his mental checklist outloud, he was looking down at his shoulder to see the little dribbles of spit-up drooling from Lucy’s mouth onto his shirt, quietly laughing to himself at the mystery that had seemed to solve itself. 

“Alright, well that was easy. Let’s get you cleaned up, messy miss.” 

Standing up to bring Lucy back to the changing table, he laid her down to reach into another drawer to grab one of the many burp cloths that had been stored away to wipe up Lucy’s little face before he was back to the pajama drawer, pulling out another pair to change her into. But as he tossed Lucy’s second outfit in 10 minutes into the laundry, he couldn’t help but notice the giant spit stain drenching his own shoulder. Not wanting to have to lay Lucy back into his damp shirt, he stared down at his daughter in nothing but her diaper, thinking back to the advice from the plethora of parenting books he had consumed and a few days ago after Lucy’s birth, where the nurses had been adamant about making sure both you and Javi spent plenty of skin on skin time with the baby. 

Trying to fight off any self-doubt or need for reassurance, Javi took a deep breath as he stared down at Lucy, still restless and crying on her changing table before stripping his own shirt and tossing it in with the other tiny items of laundry that had quickly accumulated throughout the day. 

“Okay, c’mere mi amorcita (my little love), it’s okay, I’ve got you. Shhhhhh, I’ve got you, baby girl.” Javi cooed, carefully cradling his daughter to his bare chest, feeling the heat of her tiny body pressed against his as he sat back down in the rocking chair, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t cry, pollita, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

After a few seconds of whispered reassurances and gentle rocks back and forth, Javi let out a quiet sigh of relief as Lucy’s cries began to lessen, slowly fading from wails to muffled tears against Javi’s chest. 

“That’s it, see, it’s okay, baby girl.” Javi softly smiled, pressing a tender kiss into Lucy’s soft hair before reaching over to the small bookshelf next to the rocking chair, pulling a well loved copy of “Goodnight Moon” into his lap, trying his best to maneuver it open to the first page with his one free hand. “You never got to meet your Grandma Lucia, but that’s who you’re named after. A long time ago, this was Daddy’s favorite book to listen to her read. This is his book when he was a little boy, and now I’m so happy it gets to be yours.” Almost as if little Lucy knew, her crying began to calm even more to listen to her dad as he began to read. 

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon and a picture of…” 

As Javi began to read each page, Lucy became quieter and quieter, and by the time they had said goodnight to kittens and mittens, and clocks and socks, Little Lucy was sound asleep on Javi’s chest, her soft snores rumbling on his skin. 

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere. And goodnight my sweet Lucy Goosey. Daddy loves you so much.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing his thumb in circles along Lucy’s back as he tilted his head against the back of the rocking chair, the back and forth and weight of his sleeping daughter on his chest slowly just enough to the weight of his eyelids droop to a close right along side Lucy’s. 

After a long, hot, and much needed shower, you had changed into some new pajamas, throwing your still damp hair into a towel as you headed down the hallway towards the nursery, surprised and slightly concerned by the lack of noise coming from the room. 

“Hey baby, I’m all done with the shower if you want me too- Oh my god.” Before you could even make it all the way through the door, you were stopped in your tracks, covering your mouth with your hand to try and cope with the cuteness overload that was in front of you. 

There, in the corner of the room sat Javi and Lucy in the rocking chair, the pair sound asleep and snoring as Lucy lay against his bare chest, “Goodnight Moon”  half open and slipping out of Javi’s lap from what you assumed had to have been the book he was reading to her before they clonked out. 

Your footsteps down the hallway must have been enough to wake Javi to the point that his eyes began to blink open, scrunching his face in a half awake yawn as he recognized your frame in the doorway, quickly shaking his head to bring himself back to full consciousness, immediately looking down at his chest to make sure Lucy was still there before looking back at you and the lovestruck grin spread between your cheeks. 

“You two having a good nap?” You giggled quietly, making your way over to stand next to the rocking chair, gently running your hand through the dark curls of Javi’s messy, sleep ridden hair, kissing his forehead, admiring your tiny daughter perched on your husband’s chest. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.” Javi whispered, steadying his grip around Lucy as he sat up straighter. 

“Javi, don’t apologize, baby. I’m glad that you were able to get her to sleep for you. Did you read her “Goodnight Moon”? Glad to know it still works like a charm. I think she must already have it memorized at this point.” You smiled, picking the book up off of Javi’s lap, turning through the well worn pages, knowing how excited Javi had been to finally read it to her as he held her, despite all of the times he had read it to your belly while you were pregnant when it was the only ways to bring you some relief from the constant kicking in your last trimester. 

“Yeah we did, didn’t we, sleepy girl? Although I didn’t realize that “Goodnight Dad” was the last page of the book I must have been missing all this time.” Javi laughed, readjusting Lucy as she let out a tiny yawn, stretching her little body against Javi’s. 

“Well, if every time you read “Goodnight Moon” to this little cutie, you end up shirtless with Lucy asleep on your chest, I don’t think that I’ll have anything to ever complain about again, except for the fact I’m gonna die of cuteness. God, you two are so adorable. You have a good time with your Daddy, baby girl? I hope you know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little tiny finger, Little Miss. He loves you so much.” 

“God, you’ve got that right. Have you ever seen anything so perfect? She’s perfect, Osita. I love her more than anything. I love our family so much. Thank you.” Javi whispered, trying to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Thank me for what, Javi?” 

“For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[elizais]

arguments and make ups

when he realises he fucked up,, -dazai x gn reader warnings: nothing too specifically mentioned that you are arguing over

proper fallouts with dazai were uncommon. little bickers were bound to happen yet this had spiraled a little from something you just wanted to ask about. you were asking a genuine question over god knows what, it had been a long day for the both of you and sarcastic answer after sarcastic answer had put you both on your last straws.

stood in the kitchen, he was still joking around and it was frustrating. he's a man too smart for his own good, yet he hadn't realised that you were tired and didn't want to drag anything on. sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose for a moment and looked at him.

"no, osamu, it's not-" you spoke, yet he only heard those 4 painful words. you don't call him that. you don't call him osamu. you call him 'samu or something sweet only he can hear. he became instantly lost in his own thoughts, staring off into space and you saw he wasn't listening to your point.

groaning, you walked into the bedroom. neither of you even remembered why or when this started. he stood there, knowing his sweet nothings wouldn't get him out of this situation. he should have just given you the answer straight up and not wind you up like he would for amusement any other day.

nobody ever called him osamu, at work he was dazai, chuuya called him an array of insults and at home he was 'samu. for someone so clever, and who always has a plan, he would have never planned to upset you. his mind began a competition of what voice inside his head could say 'no' the loudest to every possible solution he came up with.

if he was thinking rationally, he would have known you just wanted two peaceful minutes after a stressful day. he waited until he could hear you turn the shower on before quietly leaving the house after taking some leftovers out of the fridge for you to see when you come out to eat.

he wandered up and down yokohama's streets a little, feeling regretful. he knew you wouldn't hold a grudge but he wasn't going to forgive himself. you always treated him so well, never making him feel like a 'demon prodigy' or half of the 'double black' duo, and you unknowingly proved odasaku wrong. he always thought of how oda's words that claimed "there is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness" died the moment he met you.

osamu checked the time, thinking he should head back. he knew it would take more than a silly keychain of toro inoue to save his case yet he still bought one as he passed a corner shop.

arriving back home, you walked out of the bathroom door as he took off his shoes. he quickly shrugged off his coat and rushed towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline with a whisper of "give me 5 minutes, love." and hurrying to the bedroom and bathroom to get changed and have a shower - knowing it will boost his chances of getting you to cuddle with him as he apologises.

scrolling on your phone on the couch, you heard soft footsteps plodding over. a man who resembled an ashamed dog with his tail between his legs carefully sat down next to you. not looking up from your phone, you could feel his sorrow radiating off of him.

"darling, you know i-" you cut him off, "'samu, it's just been a long day." you responded calmly, looking up at him before a faint smile tugged at his lips. he could tell you were feeling better and wrapped his arms around you. falling down so that his back was laying on the couch and holding you on top of him.

"i'm sorry" he sprinkled in hundreds of times through peppered kisses on your head. giggles filled the room as he wriggled you around, smiling and forgetting about a silly frustration.

whoops!! accidentally forgot this is a blog with silly little fanfictions - consider this an apology pretty pleaseeee also: sorry for not chatting with my mutuals recently! life got in the way and shit hit the fan for a second!!

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Going to edit the base post later to add that if you're looking for recipes, please check the notes! As much as I'd like to make this a long-ass masterlist of recipes, recipe books, etc, I could absolutely see this getting away from me, so do keep that in mind. I'll try to keep as much as I can in one chain, though!

Adding some resources courtesy of @amingethia - thank you so, so much!

Company's Coming is a series of cookbooks she recommended, which includes one for kids!

Lilak is a standalone cookbook that's great for beginners!*

The rest of their cookbook collection, including The Unofficial Disney Parks Cookbook by Ashley Craft, Treasured Recipes, Our Customers Are Cooking!, and the little card that comes with every tub of cool whip!

A tip from him:

"Also if you have a crockpot/slow cooker, and you work like eight hour days like I do, you can take steaks or pork chops out of the freezer in the morning and pop them into your pot. Put about a cup or two water, some spices and some potatoes and veggies (if your heart desires) and leave it on low for the day.

"I usually just broil steaks though lol. They take about 30 minutes but it’s good, it’s fairly easy."

Also, her recipe for a meat-based sandwich spread (think like chicken salad)

Canned meat (chicken is apparently hit-or-miss here) - you can also use boiled eggs to make egg salad (1 can meat or 2 boiled eggs)

Two baby dill pickles, diced as small as you'd like

Mustard and mayo (they said a tablespoon of mayo and a decent amount of mustard but I assume as long as it's enough to get to a good spreadable consistency you can adjust the ratios to your liking)

Shredded cheese

Pre-cooked bacon bits ("not the fake crunchy ones, the real bacon" - optional)

And you basically just mix it all together to make a spread for a few sandwiches or some crackers. Paprika is a good addition, and you can add other spices to taste. I know this recipe isn't super specific but it's plenty customizable!

Feel free to send in more - the base post is

i am making a request

So I need to start doing more cooking as I work towards my independence and whatnot as an adult. I'd love to find some good recipes. No big deal, I can just look them up online or in the cookbooks we have in the house, right?

Apparently not, unfortunately. I was very quickly reminded of the reality of this when I went to check the instant pot cookbook that a friend had given us. Just some recipes for that particular appliance, should be fine - aaaand it's a diet book.

So, needless to say, I haven't been doing this for quite some time (or else that wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest). Many, many recipe books and sites center around dieting and weight loss, or will even just mention in their recipes that it's good for such things - regardless if that's the point of the recipe.

I really, really don't need that kind of nonsense when I'm just trying to feed myself and practice self-care, so this is a call to everybody who knows anything about cooking, recipes, and/or fat activism. Preferably all three.

Do y'all know of any good cookbooks, recipe websites, etc, that are at least half-decent about, like, Not Doing That? Whether they're neutral or body-positive, that helps. This post will be linked in my pinned post (which I will hopefully organize soon) so that it's easier to find.

Just, like, recipes that don't have fatphobia/sizeism/diet culture woven into them, whether it's the description or trashing the quality for the purpose of weight loss or anything else like that. Thanks in advance!

Thin people are welcome to reblog and contribute but don't clown on this post or you will be blocked.

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 6: Don’t Leave Me in the Dark

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - An overnight patrol leads to the resurfacing of some old wounds.

A/N: why did i almost cry writing this wow i don’t think i’ve ever written something quite so angsty ever. And i don’t even think it’s that angsty. whoops

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, pet names, angst, violence, death, mention of suicide attempt

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Alright guys! Good work today, I’ll see you next week.” You grin, waving your students goodbye as the bell rings, signalling the end of the day.

It’s finally Thursday, which means that you and Joel will be going to the guitar store on your patrol, where you hope to find some stuff for Ellie’s birthday.

As you walk to the stables, you mull over the thoughts of some other gifts for the teenager, in case you don’t find anything there, before Joel greets you.

“Hey, sweetheart, you ready to go?” He smiles softly, biting back an even larger grin at the way your cheeks flush from his words. He’s found himself acting more confidently with you, even being able to tease you with this pet name nowadays since he discovered how flustered it could make you.

“Yeah-” your voice comes out slightly shaky, and you clear your throat. “Yeah. Let me just go get May ready.”

You feed your mare an apple before checking your bag and equipment, mounting your saddle and riding out of the gates with Joel.

The trail is much nicer at this time of year as spring slowly fades into summertime. The sun shines down on the pair of you and birds sing around you. It’s picturesque, and almost makes you forget about how the world is today, taking you back to a simpler time where you could walk outside your door without fear of being shot or torn to shreds by the end of the day.

“So anyway, we’re gonna head down here for a bit and then take a left. The store is in this little town we found a few months back.” Joel comments, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Alright.” You hum, and the two of you continue making your way there.

At around 7, you reach the little town, tying your horses up near the outskirts and grabbing your guns before heading deeper. Joel tells you that they weren’t even sure if the place was clear when they first came here, so it probably won’t be now. You should be ready for anything.

Hopefully it’s not as bad as that Route D patrol, you think to yourself as you crawl through rubble and make your way into the building.

That all-too-familiar feeling of unease settles into your bones as the darkness envelops you, dust floating in the air around you, made visible by your flashlights.

It’s pathetic, but you really don’t like the darkness. It’s scary enough when you can see what’s coming for you, but when you don’t know? When the unknown is all that surrounds you wherever you look?

You think that it’s worse.

Your eyes settle on Joel beside you. Even though his gas mask is on, you see that he’s looking at you, checking that you’re okay. His presence always makes you feel better, you’ve come to notice.

“Let’s do this.” You say, determination coursing through your veins, and he nods, leading the way.

As you walk down corridors, scanning rooms and closets, you find that the most remarkable thing in the building so far has been a decaying old body which has been swallowed by a cluster of cordyceps. Certainly not a promising sight, since it means that you’re bound to encounter some infected sooner or later, but you hope that the numbers aren’t strong.

Just over an hour later, you’re thankful to be right, having only encountered half a dozen runners, which you and Joel took down fairly easy.

“Hell yeah! Look, there’s some guitar stuff-” You start, forgetting yourself slightly in your excitement, causing a clicker from a stray closet to come barrelling through, charging straight for you. It jumps on top of you, causing you to scream, starting to fight back when Joel pulls his revolver out and shoots it thrice in the head. He tugs you out from beneath its now limp body.

He pants heavily, eyes wide as he looks at you.

“Are you bit?”

“No.”

He gives you a once-over before shaking his head, letting go of your wrist.

“You could’ve died. Fuck. Y’need to be more careful, can’t go around yellin’ like that.” He mutters, scoffing before walking off.

What the fuck? Why did he seem pissed off at you now?

“Jeez, sorry for almost fucking dying, Joel. I’ll be sure to not do it again.” You huff, going to the other side of the room to start searching for some stuff for Ellie’s guitar. You find a packet of strings and a pickboard with an intricate floral design on it that you think she’ll love. You’re pretty satisfied with the turnout, and pocket these items before heading back to Joel.

You’ve cooled off from the previous encounter, still a little annoyed from how he spoke to you, but not having the energy to fight over it. You’ve noticed the sun slowly starting to set, your detour to the store adding an extra few hours to your patrol and meaning you’ll likely have to spend the night here. You really don’t want to be arguing throughout it.

“Find anything?” You ask quietly, coming to his side. He hums in response, handing you a pick he found.

“Could probably carve somethin’ into that. Make it a little more unique for her, ‘f you want...” He says, trailing off again at the end.

“Oh, that’s a great idea! Could you?” You smile, excited to make the gift even better for Ellie. She’s special to you - why would you have gone to all of this trouble for her present, after all?

“Sure.” He nods, appearing uninterested in arguing and moving on from it by now as well.

He’s about to turn to leave when you speak up again.

“We’re probably gonna have to spend the night, Joel. Look outside.” You tell him, and sure enough, the sky has gone from a pale blue to a deep orange. You won’t make it back to Jackson in time, and you’d rather not be riding in the darkness.

“Yeah, reckon you’re right. Y’got your sleeping bag?” He nods, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yes I’ve got my sleeping bag.” You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m always very prepared, Joel. You know this.” You tease, kneeling down to untie your sleeping bag.

“Sure, darlin’. Then you’d know we should secure the room before setting up the camp. Since you’re always so prepared.” He smirks, and pink tints your cheeks once more.

“Yeah, I was just- you just said to get the bag out so I just.. Whatever. I’ll secure the room.” You mutter bashfully, making him laugh. That laugh was worth the embarrassment, you decide as you stand up to help barricade the doors and windows.

You finally sit down around a little cooker just after the sky goes black, an owl hooting in the distance, wind rustling the leaves outside. It’s oddly calming.

“Thanks for earlier, by the way. I’m sorry for shouting. Was stupid.” You offer quietly, unable to meet his eyes over the stove, instead zeroing in on a piece of ravioli in some 20-year old Chef Boyardee.

“No, I-” he sighs, “Shouldn’t’ve gotten all annoyed at you, either. I’m sorry. Y’were jus’ excited, sweetheart. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Yeah, I guess. Thank you, anyway. You totally saved my ass. And you brought me here, too. I haven’t even thanked you for that. If I didn’t have you, I think my gift for Ellie would’ve been so shit.” You chuckle softly, and his lips curl into a smirk.

“I know, I know, you’d be completely lost without me.” He teases, and you laugh a little harder, giggling and hiding your face from him.

Moments like these are why you love being with Joel so much. Laughing so hard that your entire body floods with warmth and your stomach hurts by the end of it. It’s a welcome feeling in these times.

Wait. You love being around Joel? Your brows furrow as you have a conversation with yourself in your mind. You 100% just used ‘love’ and ‘Joel’ in the same sentence. That’s a scary, dangerous path to be going down right now. Just keep it chill.

Joel doesn’t seem to realise your internal struggle, getting up and wiping his hands on his jeans before taking your can and putting them to the side.

“Alright, I think y’should get some shuteye now. I’ll keep first watch. Night, sweetheart.” He says softly, feeling an unfamiliar but comforting feeling blooming inside of him at the thought of spending a night with you. Even if it’s just for patrol, it has him thinking about the potential future of your relationship. Maybe it could become more.

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say quietly, getting in your sleeping bag and facing away from him. You go tense when he turns the stove off, the room plunging into darkness. He doesn’t know of your fears, you realise. In fact, you don’t know much of anything personal about eachother at all.

A few uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing minutes later, you finally relent, sighing and rolling over to face him.

“Joel?” You say quietly into the night, eyes searching for him as you adjust to the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“Can you- can you put the light on? I know it’s a waste of power but.. I just can’t really sleep in total darkness.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you want to shrivel up and die. He probably thinks it’s a stupid, irrational fear. Being afraid of the dark in a world like this is pathetic, you think.

“Yeah, course. I didn’t know, sorry sweetheart. Y’gon be okay?” He soothes your mind, his low voice putting you at ease.

“Yeah.” You mumble, and he turns the light on before it goes quiet again.

You keep tossing and turning for a good five minutes. Then ten. Then fifteen. Fuck. Why are you so restless tonight? You guess that it’s because you haven’t slept on a patrol in a while, especially not in someone’s presence.. especially not in Joel’s presence.

You sigh frustratedly. Maybe you should just take watch instead.

“I can’t sleep. Let me take first watch instead. You rest.” You grunt, moving to get out of your sleeping bag.

“No, darlin’, you should sleep. Is somethin’ botherin’ you? Anythin’ I can do t’ help?” He offers, eyes soft and large as he gazes up at you from his seat on the floor. It makes your heart swell even more at his caring nature.

“It’s okay, Joel. Just sleep.” You say quietly, clearly not prepared to back down now. He sighs deeply.

“We can take watch together, yeah? I don’t… I just prefer bein’ awake out here.” He murmurs, and it’s only half of the truth. He actually just wants to make sure you’re safe. That, if you accidentally fall asleep or something, he’ll still be awake to protect you.

“Okay. If you’re sure.” You say, yawning softly as you take a seat on his right side. He turns back to face the window, and your eyes fall on that scar again, the one which lies at his temple.

“Hey, Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t even blink. Did he not hear you?

“Joel? Joel.” You say, a little louder now. He finally turns.

“Are you deaf or something?” You tease, but he doesn’t smile back.

“‘M sorry. I- yeah, kinda.” He responds, a little gruff.

“Oh shit. Sorry.” You say. He was kinda old, you realised. Not that much older than you, but still.

“‘S okay. I uh.. It happened near the start of the outbreak. In a fight.” He mutters, unsure of why he even told you that.

Well, he does know.

It’s because he wanted to tell you the true reason, but that’d probably scare you off, or weird you out. He can’t get that personal with you after only a few months of talking. For some reason, your presence just comforts him like no other, and he feels like he’s known you for years, like he can tell you everything, but you also know everything already, anyway.

“Damn. How’d you make it through the outbreak half deaf?” You murmur, genuinely curious now. That must’ve been why he always takes the left side in almost everything you do on patrols. Clearing a house? He’ll start on the left. Riding along a trail? He’ll listen out for anything along the left side of the path. You had your own suspicions, but this proves it.

“Dunno.” He shakes his head, gaze growing cold as his mind goes elsewhere, eyes getting wet as he recalls all he felt after losing Sarah.

You notice this, and start to panic a little. Shit. You’d asked for too much. You’ve brought up something sensitive unknowingly, and he’ll resent you for it.

You can’t just sit here and let him cry though.

“Hey, it’s okay, Joel. You- you can talk to me. Y’know I’m always here for you.” You say softly, turning to face him a little better. He turns his head and meets your eyes. For some reason, seeing him upset makes you want to cry too, resulting in your own eyes getting a little misty.

He clears his throat before he speaks.

“Had a daughter.” He chokes out, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds.

Your heart almost stops. Had. Ellie wasn’t his kid, but he used to have one.

You try and think of what to say. I’m so sorry, Joel. That’s terrible, Joel. It’s a basic response, and you feel like it wouldn’t help. For once, you find yourself unable to navigate the situation.

“Scar ain’t from a fight. ‘S from me. Few days after Outbreak Day, when she-” he cuts himself off as his voice breaks, eyes squeezing tightly together.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but you wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t reciprocate for a moment and you panic again, wondering if that was a bit bold, especially in his emotional state. But then his arms come around you, and he lets you in. He bites back the ugly sob that wants to escape his chest, instead only allowing a few silent tears to fall. You sniffle as you feel them on your skin.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You whisper, heart breaking as he cries quietly.

“Sorry. That.. was a bit much.” He mumbles, pulling back a little and clearing his throat after a moment, realising he’s supposed to be closed off and not let anyone in, not expose his emotions or feelings or thoughts, but you shake your head.

“Everyone has their demons, Joel. You shouldn’t be afraid to let yourself feel, especially around me.” You murmur. Maybe you should share your own past. You don’t want him to feel alone.

“You wanna know why I’m so afraid of the dark?” You begin, and he doesn’t protest, so you take a deep breath and continue.

“Lost my brother a few years back. Maybe a year before I got to Jackson. We were actually trying to find the place, travelling through the night, and we had to cut through this mall. There were infected roaming outside, and even though we knew that the mall could have raiders in it, we didn’t wanna take on a dozen clickers. So… we start wandering through this dark mall. No lights, no windows, and we only had one flashlight. He went in front and I was following, but- but I knocked something over. And then we heard voices in the distance. They said that they would check out the noise.” You pause to collect yourself, trying to prepare mentally as you recount what happened next. “They said that.. That if they saw anyone to just shoot them. All I remember was that it was so dark, before we saw the flashlight on a rifle. I barely had a chance to think before my brother grabbed my hand and ran blindly with me. We tried finding the exit but- just when we saw the light, he got shot. It was in his stomach and-” You cut yourself off with a quiet sob, trying to continue. “He just crumpled. The last thing he told me was- was to leave him. To keep going for him. I could hear the men coming, but I was still trying to pick him back up or- or something. Then I saw the man aim his gun at me and I panicked and I ran. Like a coward.” You can’t stop yourself from crying now, unable to say any more.

“Oh, baby…” He whispers, pulling you closer and letting you cry. You whimper at his touch. When was the last time you properly cried like this? You’ve been so used to putting on a mask that when you finally let go like this you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“I just- I feel so guilty. I don’t deserve to be happy and safe in Jackson without him. I should’ve died that night. I knocked over the fucking boxes, I-”

He shushes you gently, recognising what you actually mean, knowing the feeling all too well - and knowing you don’t deserve to feel like that.

“Don’t say that, sweetheart. He would’ve wanted you to live and be happy here… Don’t ever say that.” He says, quiet, but firm in his tone.

You sniffle, exhaling shakily. His words don’t totally convince you, but you know deep down that he’s right. He would’ve wanted you to be safe. He would’ve rested easier knowing that he was able to protect you in the end, that it was all worth something.

“I miss him, Joel.” You whimper.

“I know. I miss my girl so much it hurts. It never gets easier, does it?” He says, to which you nod, burrowing further into his side as you yawn softly. You cried yourself to exhaustion.

“Just sleep now, okay? I’ll be here. We’ll keep the lights on.”

You just nod, too tired to respond as your brain finally powers off, and you fall asleep.

He sighs, stroking your hair as he looks back to the slit in the window. He always knew. There was no way someone could truly be this happy on the outside, and really feel it on the inside. He wishes you did feel it on the inside, though. The pain of losing someone you love was one of the worst pains imaginable - he had the scars to prove it.

The next morning is quiet, but not awkward. You both exposed yourselves last night. Even though he said way less than you, you know that your levels of vulnerability vary greatly and you both showed eachother your rawest feelings and shared your darkest memories, deepening your relationship further.

“You ready to head back?” He says after you’ve packed everything up, and you nod.

The journey back starts off quiet, the two of you still deep in thought, before you finally pull yourself back together a little - enough to have some normal conversation.

“So, you got a party planned for Ellie’s birthday?” You ask, looking over at him. He’s on your left again, and you try not to think about why, now that you know the true reason.

“I dunno. Was gonna do somethin’ at the Bison, but I’m not sure yet.”

“Joel!” You gasp playfully. “Her birthday’s only a few weeks away! You gotta let me help you plan this party. I’ll make it into every 16 year-old’s dream.”

He gives you a teasing look, and you roll your eyes. “Trust me, Joel. I got better taste than you, that’s for sure.” You argue, and he relents.

“Fine. If she hates it, I’m blamin’ you.”

“Challenge accepted.” You snicker, hiding the bubbling excitement inside of you, knowing you’ll be spending even more time with Joel over the next few weeks.

Trying to ignore the fact that you cannot fucking wait.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

Next Chapter

Tags- @mermaidgirl30 @tuquoquebrute @joelmillerisapunk @pascals-doll @casa-boiardi @konigslittleliebling @xxx-silhouette-xxx @hannah9921 @friskispunk @orcasoul @roryfuckedurmum @s0meoone

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

w.count: 2.4k (whoops. it got away from me)

chengsheng picks favorties, and she's not secretive about it. she's also not secretive about the fact that when you're around, it isn't baizhu either.

living in liyue for as long as you have should've meant your body was used to traversing the constant air influxes of going up and down mountains and large rock formations by now. however, contrary to what you believe to be the case, your body simply did not listen. really, it didn't listen to anything you want it to do.

it was always something. lightheadedness, severe headaches, congestion that made your eyes ache, stiff and swollen joints and muscles, small scrapes and bruises from whatever tumble you may have taken. anything that could happen always seemed to be the case with you when you walked through the door to bubu pharmacy.

it took no time at all for herbalist gui to learn your face and name. even qiqi could remember your face with her poor memory. with your regular visits, gui first suspected you were faking your aliments. of course, you could easily see how he could come to such an accusation. even you thought once or twice that you were just overthinking things, that it wasn't bad... until it was, and your conditions worsen with no kind of treatment at all.

the first time you met baizhu, you were standing rather unamused- and slightly zoned out- from yet another lecture from gui on how you need to be more careful or else you'll make the pharmacy run out of stock. he should be glad that business is practically booming with you around. instead, he was laying it on thick today... not that you were paying much attention.

"ah, so this is who the mysterious person qiqi claims needs herbs so frequently is."

you don't think you'll ever be able to forget how amused he sounded from behind you. or the look on gui's face as his boss interrupts his rambling that definitely could look like berating to anyone who wasn't used to seeing him interact with your near-daily medicine runs. you should've had a kamera on hand for such an expression.

you'll never forget exactly how awed you were to see the owner of such a renowned pharmacy for the first time either. a part of you was almost skeptical of how young he was, but then again age never equated to intelligence anyway, so that thoughtless nonsense was easily tossed out of your mind.

"yes, i guess that would be me," you sheepishly told him. "my apologies for the... neediness? for lack of better words."

"not at all. what is medicine good for if not to treat someone? it's actually quite relieving to finally put a face with a name."

"qiqi sspeakss of them sso often i almosst asssumed they were another one of her missunderstandingss." the secondary voice that no doubt came from the white snake around the doctor's neck shocked you for a moment. blinking as if taking in the absurdity of it, you easily accepted that the snake could talk.

this was teyvat where people could be born hybrids, having psychical traits of of species of being. not to mention liyue, where you knew of at least two adeptus running around the harbor. this shouldn't come as much of a shock.

"sorry about that too," the silent- i think?- you refused to tack on to the end of your sentence was left unspoken but clearly seen in your eyes. was that something to apologize for? in truth, the whole situation felt quite awkward so all you could do was talk to fill the silence. the silence that wasn't very silent anyway.

you had since stepped off to the side so gui could talk to another patron coming to pick up their prescription with the babble of the city just outside. if you didn't feel it would be rude, you would've just left and called it a day- even if you hadn't actually gotten your needed medicine from the herbalist at the desk yet. he had been too busy nagging you to hand it over before baizhu's sudden appearance.

luckily for you, baizhu was also intelligent enough he could read a room.

"please wait here. i'll go and fetch whatever medicine you need today." you make a small noise of acknowledgment before offering a small okay as he walks behind the counter and takes a paper from gui that probably had recommended herbs and salves scribbled on it for your treatment.

feeling like you just fumbled the first interaction with the pharmacy's owner, you sighed and pushed a finger to your temples before going outside. leaning yourself on the railing just outside the building, you bore yourself into counting the steps leading up to it. always getting a different answer each time since there were so many. you were so invested in your stair counting that when baizhu reappears in your peripherals with a small drawstring pouch of presumed herbs, you feel yourself flinch.

"i didn't mean to startle you," he chuckles as you gently take the pouch from him, using your other hand to dig around for the mora you know you now owe.

"it's fine. i was too engrossed in counting."

"counting?"

"the stairs."

"did you come to a final count?" he entertains.

"not even close," you say as you place the correct amount of shiny mora into his palm while watching chengsheng readjust herself by slithering once around his shoulders.

after that day, baizhu was around more often when you would stop by. your semi-normal medical pick-ups soon extend into medical treatment personally offered by baizhu in the pharmacy's back room, along with prolonged conversations to fill the free time he could offer. it was during these conversations that chengsheng decided that among the humans living in liyue, you were her favorite.

she preferred you over others so much that when you would come by the pharmacy, she would immediately demand to coil around you instead of her normal seat upon baizhu's shoulders. she would only keep to baizhu when you were around if his chi levels were running wild and she was confined to her job of maintaining them.

today was no exception to her favoritism.

you had once again shown up to bubu pharmacy, but this time not for whatever ails you, but for your annual checkup. you never used to bother with them, but shockingly enough gui had lectured you one year about it- so, to save yourself the ear strain it would be best to just get it over with.

walking up the outrageously long stairs to the pharmacy entrance, you sigh and rub your neck with a rather lackluster greeting to the open space of the front desk.

"okay gui, i'm here." you almost sigh, like keeping track with your health was such an inconvenience. dropping your arm and raising your view, you see all three of the bubu population together- which was almost rare considering they all have their own agendas to deal with near daily. "wow," you start with a smile at seeing them all, "it's like a party in here."

gui shakes his head at your lame attempt at what he assumes is a joke while qiqi abandons her post to waltz up to your side and grab the fabric that hung around your waist; a habit she's developed since you've been around more often. you're not sure why she does it, maybe it makes her feel secure or something, you weren't sure. you don't mind it regardless. you always accept her small act of presumed affection with your palm resting on her talisman tagged hat and small greeting.

baizhu blithely crosses his arms over his chest at seeing how attached qiqi has become of you. he has the hunch that even outside of the pharmacy you were pretty well-known because you were someone easily likeable, but to capture the attention of his little qiqi? color him impressed. still, he was pleased you had formed a connection with her and gui. even baizhu himself found himself enjoying your company more than he did before. each time was better than the last.

"it's lovely to see you again," the owner speaks as he uncrosses his arms into a more relaxed manner of stance. "gui informed me that you can be rather stubborn when it comes to these kinds of matters. I was worried i'd have to go and find you myself."

"i don't think you would have to go that far. even if i didn't show up today, i would've been back eventually. then you could've tied me up and thrown me into a forced state of compliance."

"that wouldn't be very hospitable of a doctor, i'm afraid."

a small tug on your hip directs your attention downwards as qiqi looks up at you.

"doctor baizhu will be taking care of you today," she says slowly, almost lethargically. you blink a few times in confusion for a moment before nodding to her.

"really now? what an a honor." it wasn't often baizhu did things like this, such common checkups were handled mostly by gui. you wonder if chengsheng kicked up some sort of fuss about it? 'nevermind,' you shake your head and internalize your thoughts, 'it doesn't matter.'

"best not to waste much more time," baizhu says, rounding the counter and coming up to your side before replacing your hand with his own on qiqi's head. "run along now, qiqi." she's quick to obey and gui returns to whatever it is he does all day long. you're ushered out and soon back to the room you've been in thousands of times before.

just like normal, you sat yourself down in one of the two stools baizhu keeps at his desk. just like normal, baizhu offers you tea for your time and just like normal you accept. just like normal, he walks back and forth along the many shelves of herbs and equipment for what he needs for the day's work. and just like normal, chengsheng is slithering down baizhu's outstretched arm, onto the desk and then quickly up yours as you offer it to her.

"aw, i've missed you too chengsheng," you coo. she always hisses when you treat her like a common snake, but it wasn't like she was going to do anything about it. another perk of being the favorite.

"it'ss just nicce to not be coiled around a man who smellss like grasss all the time," she plays off as she coils comfortably around your shoulders and even curling up your head to pass through your hair. most definitely forming knots in her wake.

as baizhu comes back to your side, you watch as he places his required items down.

"it never gets easier," you say.

"and what exactly are you talking about?"

"how... empty you look without chengsheng."

baizhu chuckles.

"yes, well, it feels as empty as it looks." he looks at the pearl white snake around you, clearly nuzzling into you more than him, and he smiles warmly at it. "she looks much better wrapped around you, than me."

"uh-huh," you scoff, bringing your palm up to cup her head and lightly nudging her away from your ear. she was making your skin tingle with her scales against the small sensitive limb. "i totally believe you."

"i've never spoken a word of a lie to you."

you always applaud yourself for not absolutely losing your cool for the things that could come out of baizhu's mouth. the way he can easily say things that were well past embarrassing without so much as blinking was almost awe-inspiring. if you didn't know any better, you'd think sometimes he was flirting with you- but it was baizhu and he was always kind and polite to anyone. that was just who he was.

your checkup runs smoothly and even though nothing can fix your accident-prone lifestyle, you were still healthy and ready to take on more scraps and falls.

now, the hardest part of every pharmacy visit was about to commence. convincing chengsheng to return to her contractor without much fuss.

"chengsheng," you nervously say her name with a slight shake in your voice. she was always a sassy snake, but when she didn't get to indulge in what she wanted, which was simply snuggly laying around your shoulders for just a while longer... she could be a handful. "you know you can't leave with me."

she meets you nowhere with silence- not even attempting to meet you halfway somewhere. nope, she's leaving you high and dry. baizhu watches with half amused eyes, a hand on his hip and the other reached out to brush against her scales.

"what if i walked our dear y/n home? would you willingly part with them then?"

"what?" baizhu had never walked you home before, you always insisted he not since he was a busy man, and it wasn't like you couldn't take care of yourself. this opportunity easily hooked the snake's attention as she lifted her previously curled head and looked at her contractor- you know, the man she was supposed to be unwaveringly loyal to.

"do we have a deal?" he chided, knowing that eventually she was going to let you go one way or the other. whether it be now by him prying her off you physically or walking you home and having her come back willingly. her forked tongue flicked out before coiling one full rotation around your neck and up your head, so her reptilian 'chin' sat on your crown.

"if i must," which was chengsheng for 'yes, we do'.

so, with you and chengsheng waiting at the top of the stone stairs, baizhu popped inside to inform gui and qiqi he would be stepping out for a bit. qiqi had peaked around the open front and waved goodbye to you, which you returned happily before baizhu came to your side. his hand came to hover at your back, so close you could almost feel his palm but never actually touching, and offered you start taking steps ahead of him.

back from inside the pharmcy at the desk, qiqi walked back to gui's side as they both watched their boss walk off with you.

"qiqi likes when y/n is around," she speaks monotonously- but she meant it.

"yeah," gui agrees, watching both your heads disappear further down the stairs with chengsheng still clinging to you. "you aren't the only one," he chuckles.

chengsheng picks favorties, and she's not secretive about it. her contractor, however- even if he thinks he's being slick about it- cannot hide that he does too.

and wouldn't you believe it? all evidence always leads back to you.

[m1d-45]

the scars, the wound

summary: heizou has two important skills: his intuition and his martial arts. he prefers not to use the latter when working on cases, but what happens when the first fails him?

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: mention/implication of violence near the end.. minor spoilers for heizou lore?

-> gn reader (you/yours)

-> if this looks familiar, it’s a rewrite of this. i didn’t think i posted that draft because it was in need of so much improvement when i recently re-found it, and didn’t realize until after already posting this… whoops.

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

heizou’s intuition is wrong, for once. it’s impossibly unlikely, something he can’t remember happening before, but it’s the only logical explanation.

he’s walking through ritou, taking a minor detour along the beach. why, he’s not certain, but some string in his stomach insisted he went. and so, following his intuition, he did.

at first, it’s sand. as all beaches are. he finds himself scanning the shore for anything strange, kicking at a few odd looking rocks. he even checks a few times with elemental sight, but all he gets are the faint wisps of hydro lingering on the sand. not that that meant much—his elemental affinity was never the highest, kazuha was far more reliable for this sort of thing—but normally he could at least gather a general idea of what his mind was trying to tell him… but not this time.

no, when he saw you sitting in the sand, it was the last thing he could have expected.

he stops, squinting a bit. the sky is darkening, approaching dusk, and he was meant to be going to a meeting with thoma. to bother a random civilian and make himself late wasn’t ideal, but to scare you off if you were a criminal could possibly be worse. so, he approaches quietly, noting the way you turned as he did.

and then he recognizes you, all at once. your face was reflected in the posters plastered all over the city, in word-of-mouth descriptions from other officers—you’re the one the whole world’s been looking for. your skin is dirty and your clothes could certainly use a few hours with a needle and thread, and paper doesn’t quite capture the blank look in your eyes as well.

still, he crouches down with a wave, crossing his arms on his knees. “hey there! detective heizou of the tenry-“

“i know you.”

your voice sends a chill down his spine. it pulls at something deep in his core, his soul screaming that you are friend, not foe. briefly, he wonders why he stopped here at all, and then shock hits him like a punch to the gut.

for the first time in a long time, his instincts were wrong.

wrong, because you’re a fugitive.

his smile turns strained, unable to shake the feeling that he’s doing something wrong despite knowing he’s within full legal right. his skin prickles, and he digs his nails into his arm guards to keep steady. “do you? gotta say, i can’t blame you. my name is flung around quite a lot.”

you’re tense but not running. you know him, you know who he is, so…

blank eyes peer at him from under the overgrown shags of your hair, half-lidded and tired. his mind constructs a metaphor without his asking, as if attempting to make sense of something far more complex than you; jewelry, rusted and ancient, luster long lost across the years.

he almost feels sympathetic, but he’s not sure why. he should hate you. you fly in the face of everything he stood for—truth, justice, his creator—but he can’t find the will to do anything to arrest you. he knows he could apprehend you in an instant, between his skill and your exhaustion, but he doesn’t. and he doesn’t know why.

it bothers him.

“so, what’re you doing on ritou? need any help getting a permit to the rest of the island?”

he tells himself he’s asking because doing that would force your hand, not because he wants to help. that’s ridiculous. when did he start thinking this way? has he caught a cold, by chance?

“no.”

“then surely there’s a more comfortable place to be than the beach?” what’s he doing? why does he care? who cared if sand plastered your skin, if you got sick from being outside? “tides get pretty high around here, it would do you good to find a place to rest.”

you look out to the sea, some of the tension leaving your body. it’s not relaxation, more like surrender. “i don’t have anywhere to go.”

his chest is beginning to feel oddly tight.

it’s like he’s seeing the stars themselves in your eyes despite the darkness and the fact that that’s not possible. there’s a small shimmer to them, the sun itself contained inside, a glow that shows when they flicker over him like you’re pulling out all of his secrets. he’s not sure why he wants to give them to you. “i’m sure you know that, though.”

he does, he knows, he was at the meeting with kujou sara and the rest of the police force. he was the one she pulled aside to personally ask he put his full attention on it—as if he hadn’t already the second she mentioned his god—and he’s heard of the stories from the mainland. he knows everything, he’s read over every single report he could get imported, and yet every word you say feels brand new. when you say ‘you’ it feels like you’re the first person to ever lay on him, and it’s scary that he doesn’t find that frightening. his mouth is dry, all of his normal quick retorts and easy replies falling out of his reach. he settles for a nod, and you look back to the sea.

you look dull, his mind says, pulling on all of his vocabulary to try and connect a sentence together that properly describes it. your entire form feels… fleeting? no, not that. impermanent, maybe, like fog. so dense from afar, yet vanishing once he gets close. you’re… everywhere, a mist lingering in the air, waiting for him to look away so you can take a solid form again.

are you a youkai looking for a bit of fun? perhaps he’s mistaken. maybe he’d guessed wrong, maybe you’d just stolen another’s face for a prank.

…that’s stupid. since when has that been one of his first explanations for something? no, something’s wrong- he has to get this- this spell off of him. now he remembers, the paper from the alchemist from mondstat, he remembers, he remembers-

he-

he remembers the soft smile on his father’s face, wiping the dirt from his knees. “you must be careful,” he says, careful not to irritate the scrapes with the cloth. “you have been blessed with this mind of yours, but you must be wise enough to use it properly.”

“i’m wise!” he insists, and his father laughs, reaching for the bandages at his side.

“you’re intuitive,” he corrects. “and every day i pray to our god that you to learn the difference.”

heizou tears his eyes away from you, pretending that the sand isn’t blurry.

you’re a fraud. he has to arrest you. you’re tricking the people, you’re impersonating the highest deity, the literal god of gods, youve fooled even his own mind, you have to be stopped. for the good of the world. for the good of the earth. for the hood of his god.

…so…

“why aren’t you trying to kill me yet?”

his heart both flares and breaks, hands twitching for both his cuffs and to hold you close. your voice is so rough, so cracked and tattered and filled with something similar enough to betrayal that it’s paralyzing.

he needs to arrest you.

(he needs to get you water.)

he has to bring you in so the shogun can kill you.

(he has to get you a room somewhere so you can rest. you look so tired.)

his mind is as blurred as his sight, confusion instead of tears muddling his thoughts.

what’s happening? why does his mind like (adore, want, need, worship) you so much, when he knows he has to take you in? he’s been given direct orders, he knows what he has to do, so why can’t he do it? when did he fall for such easy tricks? he’s shikanoin heizou, the most trusted detective of the tenryou commission, and he cannot be swayed by your words. he can’t afford to be.

(it’s not just your words. the air around you is so soft, so welcoming, inviting him to sit in the sand with you until it’s dawn again. he’s at ease in a way he hasn’t been in a long while, even despite the stress of the situation. he should, in reasonable circumstances, be stressed, but you’ve cleared his mind to a simple volley between two ideas: his loyalty to his god, and his newfound loyalty to you.)

he wants to tell you that he’d never want to hurt you. “i try to leave that to the higher-ups” is what he says instead.

you sign, running a shaking hand over your hair. it’s full of sand and salt and needs to be cut, badly. you take an equally unsteady breath, and when you speak you sound like you’re about to cry. “i don’t want to fight you, heizou.”

the way you say his name fills his chest with something hotter than fire and sweeter than honey, a supernova made into sugar and placed into the gap left by his heart.

the last of the sun shines off the water and outlines you in its glow, the only thought in his mind that of your beauty.

he licks his lips—they taste of salt—and forces words to come up. “i don’t want to fight you either.”

it’s the truth, and he hates that it is.

instead of saying anything else, you stand, and heizou scrambles to follow. he tells himself it’s because he needs to be ready to run after you. that’s it. that’s all. you take a step away and he is quick to match it, transfixed as you pick up a long wooden staff, akin to a walking stick. it’s taller than you are, and he’s not sure how he missed it laying beside you.

“you’ll lose your job if you don’t, detective.”

he might.

heizou blinks.

…he won’t.

no… he won’t.

facing you head on, the acceptance in your eyes is clearer, like you knew it would come to this. his hand drifts to his baton hesitantly, and sees your grip on the wood. it’s splintered, he notices, likely a piece of driftwood you found along the beach.

why is he waiting? why is he stalling?

he’s let this go on for too long already. he’s being ridiculous. this is wrong. it’s his job to take in criminals and he’s staring at one of the worst, so what is he hesitating for?

against his better judgement, he tightens his hands to fists. he’ll be gentle, he promises himself, but it doesn’t soothe the storm in his head. he‘ll be careful, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still likely to hurt you. maybe by the end of it, if he’s clever with the use of his vision, you’d barely have a bruise. did you even know how to fight properly? you don’t seem all that confident in your weapon. at least that’ll make his job easier, right?

he’s stalling again.

heizou takes a breath. against his intuition, he takes the first swing.

[mdhwrites]

"In the first episode, Luz brings wild animals and fireworks to school without permission or without any regard to safety."

Isn't that just a case of Early-Installment Weirdness?

Boy there are so many problems with accusing this of that. See, Early-Installment Weirdness IS a thing. In TOH, one of the best examples of that is how in the same episode that Amity goes "I've never seen a spell like that cast before" you also have the power glyph. A famous one from another cartoon is how Andrea of Molly McGee starts as an EXTREME bitch but quickly shifts to more so being unaware and selfish, rather than actively malicious. Hell, I know one of my own series has it where I have a transmuter in the first chapter change pancakes into a pot of flowers which I made WAY too casual for the amount of energy shifting to something living should take.

A common thread between all of these though are that they don't show back up. Andrea's characterization becomes consistent AFTER the shift to it and she never goes back to being as bad as she was in her first appearance. The power glyph is never mentioned again, MAYBE visually it's seen like once on the coven head but glyph magic is just Luz's. And yeah, my own story sticks to its power costs better afterwards. That is the biggest sign of Early-Installment Weirdness because in the long run you can see that these elements were dropped because they were incongruent with the actual goals of the show.

But do you know what does keep appearing? This characterization of Luz. S1 is filled with times when Luz will disregard other people's feelings, fuck something up because of it and then have to make amends. Episode fucking two reinforces the idea that she treats the world as fantasy. Yesterday's Lie actually HINGES on the idea that Luz is actually selfish and uncaring of those around her because she could not appreciate what she had and that she had to be special. This is what Vee calls her out on. It's also why, in the blog you're referencing with this, I bring up how in S3 she has a dilemma where a decision that she made on her own blew up in her face. In response to that, instead of thinking ANYONE else should comment on it, she makes a drastic, big deal decision... That also gets her out scott free from all consequences which is exactly what she did when she ran to the Isles. I'm not even exaggerating. In episode 1, Luz decides to stick to the Isles because otherwise she has to go to a camp she doesn't want to where she'll actually have to put in the effort to improve as a person and respect reality so she sticks to her fantasy world. In S3 Episode 1, she decides to abandon AN ENTIRE WORLD to their fate, that she believes is her fault, so that she can stay at home and live with her caring mother and new sister while she will also send her friends to ostensibly their deaths because of how big of a deal this is. And like in that blog, S3 E2 only reinforces the idea that Luz only cares about what is important to Luz when her goal on the Isles is not beating the Collector, she says that to everyone who doesn't know the truth, but instead to find Eda and King, make sure they're safe, and leave. She tells that to her mom, the only person who knows already she doesn't give a fuck about this place.

That's also without bringing up btw the signs that reference her early montage that appear in S3 E1, meaning the show wants you to remember it, especially when Luz sighs at the sign. It is NOT an element that is just one and done and a whoops on the writer's part. It is the first action in a long, LONG line of selfish, unthinking, uncaring actions for our 'protagonist'.

Our protagonist who is told that she has never, ever, done anything wrong. That's abhorrent. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[drspencereidshairtie]

Season Four of The Umbrella Academy was really really something for me because I had disliked lila since the very second they first introduced her. I remember being actively relieved when the show confirmed my suspicions about her, because i had felt a bit bad at first for judging her for no tangible reason.

I never really warmed up to her, in fact i actively hated her by the end of season two (which only went on to get 50x worse in season three with the whole he's our son / just kidding / whoops he's dead / haha im pregnant by the way thing) and then of course season four happened.

I actually almost kinda liked mom!lila. I was like oh, she can be human. She CAN be likeable. Maybe, just maybe, she's not a monster. I liked her new dynamic with Diego, and i enjoyed seeing her being a stressed, caring, normal mom and having a mundane life...for about two seconds. Then the whole 'book club / not book club / let him think I'm CHEATING on him' thing happened, and i was swiftly reminded that there was a reason i didn't like Lila.

Then she gets a power. It was actually a chance for her to be interesting and have character growth beyond just being a mom and wife. They could have used her to show what it's like when marigold interacts with someone who's never before had powers; they could have had some kind of fun training montage, like they did with Klaus and Reginald in season three when he discovered his immortality; and they SHOULD have done something of consequence with it, like having her accidentally hurt someone, or damage something important, idfk but, like, literally fucking anything!!!????!!!!???!!!!??? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Instead, they just gave her stupid useless eye lasers that she uses about three times, can't control at all, and never comes up again. And it feels like they did it because they knew Lila was a weak character that couldn't stand on her own without the context of the rest of the umbrella academy, so they had to kinda 'even out the playing field' somewhat, even if it defied any and all logic and reason.*

Which, in my case at least, was an unfortunate choice. The one thing I'd actually somewhat liked about Lila was that, despite her personality and history, she was, for all intents and purposes, just an average human. I like seeing regular people in shows about abnormal folk. They give a nice context to the chaos, even if they too are 'chaotic' characters, you know?

Just when I thought she couldn't get worse.........well. I don't think i have to explain what happened. It was so much worse because Five had always been one of my favourite characters and OH MY GOD,,,,,,, HE WOULD NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER DO THAT! HE WOULD NOT DO THAT???? And you know I'm not just saying that in a delusional 'i know him better than the writers do' fan way, because pretty much everyone is in agreement.

He LITERALLY would not fucking do that. ESPECIALLY with Lila, who he's always disliked at best and actively tried to KILL at worst, and especially not now that she's his BROTHER'S WIFE and not to mention the MOTHER OF HIS BROTHER'S CHILDREN????

Anyway, that was my final nail. I no longer just hated Lila and passively wished she hadn't been added to the show, I wanted her dead. I wanted her to be killed off, or have something happen where five returned to the correct timeline but Lila couldn't for some reason, I just wanted her gone and SOON. I think it was probably what killed season four for most people, not just me. I think that if Lila had never existed, or at least hadn't made it to season four, or hadn't gone with five and................

If that hadn't happened, I think it could have been salvageable, even despite the one million and one problems with the season.

TL;DR: I genuinely, truly, deeply believe that the main issue with season four of the umbrella academy was the overarching existence of one 'Lila Pitts.'

(Don't even get me started on her almost jeopardising everything at the last moment in the final episode. I almost broke something in sheer frustration, because OH MY GOD we literally don't have time for this the world is ending infinitely and your life is not more important than the life of a single slug muchless the lives of BILLIONS of people- deep breaths, dustyn. Deep breaths.)

[felondese]

here are my guesses for how they're doing this:

morrigan has been taken over by mythal to the point where her personal development and history pre-mythal don't matter all that much, so no references to her potential child or partner. we're going to see mythal in morrigan shape which I'm okay with for elgar'nan-whooping-purposes

we're just going to pretend that well of sorrows thing didn't happen shhh. i think they'd rather just sweep that one under the rug considering there wasn't even real solas reaction dialogue with him in your party (he mildly disagrees with you drinking but he also doesn't want morrigan to), just his seemingly random ass outrage back at skyhold after the fact. they really fumbled this one already, i think, so probably for the best to just ignore it, even if that's a shame because it's so chewy. plus the well is essentially morrigan's now anyway whether she drank or not

the inquisition is a handful of people at this point regardless of disbandment or not, and we won't really hear from anyone we know that's still working with them. they can't really reference any of the advisors or companions other than varric and harding. as little as our previous choices matter, i have a hard time imagining a significant difference in game states based on, for example, having forces and resources to contribute

the inquisitor is going to make an appearance but get kidnapped/hurt/go MIA for most of the game early on so their presence in the story is the only thing that's significant, not any personal details, anything that might showcase personality or reference their choices in inquisition. probably gonna die to tie up loose ends

solas will be a lil extra sad if lavellan romanced him but I'm not expecting much in terms of solavellan nods. i am betting the difference will be minimal, like friendly vs romanced in trespasser. best case scenario a kiss and he'll throw in a vhenan at the end maybe when he breaks her heart again. definitely not banking on murals or anything significant.

that said, i am thinking the only one of the three choices that will actually have much of an impact is if you romanced solas. i highly doubt any of the other dai romances will get mentioned since past char choices related to them aren't and there are too many variables

whether your inky wanted to redeem or stop solas won't really matter. we need his help either way and with the gods released the veil is probably coming down whether he does it or not

the rest of the world is on fucking fire early enough in the game that it doesn't matter who's on what thrones. it's all irrelevant when the evanuris bust out. no chantry, no kingdoms left standing, just chaos and death

the chars i was really looking forward to seeing again and kind of expected based on location/factions (dorian, isabela, zevran, sten, fenris) might get a passing reference in text but i hear it's a real pain in the ass to get the voice actors and art departments involved for cameos, plus all the possible contingencies, so I'm dropping those hopes. should count my blessings that they aren't horrifically killed on screen because that would be the only other option i guess

basically i'm going to bring my expectations back down to earth and then a little lower for safety. can't be disappointed if i don't expect much going in.

still looking forward to the game? absolutely.

[gloamvonhrym]

I’ve noticed multiple fic writers remark that they find reyson’s voice a little difficult to get a handle on, and I have written So Much reyson content. so I wanted to vomit my thoughts on what stands out in my mind when writing reyson :3 (this isn’t intended as a “how to” or whatever, just my personal perspective. enjoy a long thing)

PATH OF RADIANCE

reyson is a very temperamental character, but he is also quite proud and well-spoken. even at his worst, experiencing some very extreme emotional states, he is almost never incoherent with rage or grief. the closest he gets, that I can remember, is in PoR ch 15, when naesala shows him the still-desolate serenes forest, he comes out with a few trailing fragments (after which he regains some composure):

“The voice of the forest is still. Why... How did this...”

he also doesn’t threaten very much, compared to most other characters. he’s fiery, and he might sometimes say that people (humankind, eg, or izuka) will “pay” for their past actions, but he’s probably conscious of the fact that he can’t really back up physical threats. instead, when enraged, he tends to curse eloquently:

“...Unforgivable. How...how can they do things like this. Cursed humans ... What did this forest do? What did my clan do...” - PoR, ch 15 “Naesala, you wretch... Curse your eyes! How dare you do this to me...” - PoR, ch 16

he does, however, often falter. I know ellipses are basically their own character in the tellius games, but reyson’s PoR dialogue often suggests to me that he is muttering passionately to himself, or else forcing words out with some labor.

he also lapses into Ancient, seemingly at moments of great shock or disorientation (when he reunites with leanne, eg, or the same scene as above, when he sees serenes). re: this and the above, it’s worth remembering that the Modern Tongue is his second language. I like to think that his frequent hesitations may be an aspect of this.

his pride has some notable and obvious weak points. in PoR, he objects heartily to tibarn sending janaff & ulki along to protect him. after that, ike mentions to ulki that reyson “kept apologizing”. indeed, reyson seems like a bit of an over-apologizer - when it comes to tibarn and the hawks specifically, although he also humbles himself before naesala in ch 15 (whoops). in some cases, his apologies seem proud enough - it’s a noble thing, after all, to be able to apologize when necessary, as well as to have a strong sense of obligation (to the hawks, also to naesala, also to ike). but that he “kept apologizing”, over something that wasn’t even his decision, suggests something a bit more pathological. reyson presents as a proud creature, but his survivor’s guilt, and his sense of being a defenseless burden, are made obvious. and he displays particular deference to tibarn, whom he seems to regard as an authority figure - although not so much of an authority figure that he can’t be argued with or gainsaid. (see below.)

ymmv on this, but related: I interpret reyson as something of a people-pleaser, especially as of PoR. in addition to the apologizing vis a vis the hawks, it’s almost heartbreakingly easy for naesala to manipulate him throughout their whole arc. anytime reyson criticizes him or expresses doubt, all naesala has to do is invoke their old friendship, and reyson seems to fold more or less instantly. (reminder: reyson is a heart-reader. naesala engages him in all this nonsense with the intent of tricking him and selling him to a slaveowner. reyson is 100% correct to have doubts, and should know this. naesala is gaslighting him. but he wants desperately to believe that naesala is his friend.)

Reyson: Naesala! Naesala: Yes? Reyson: Thank you. For everything you've done. I... I appreciate it. Naesala: Don't be ridiculous. We're old friends, are we not? Reyson: Right you are! Old friend.

abandonment issues are a real bitch, huh

after leanne is kidnapped by the black knight, tibarn approaches reyson, and verbally takes responsibility for the incident. reyson attempts to tell him that it’s fine, but tibarn brushes him off, perhaps out of shame and guilt. this follows:

Reyson: Tibarn, may the fortunes of war be with you. Tibarn: And you as well. Don't try anything too dangerous. (Exit Tibarn) Reyson: ... Ike: ...Reyson? Reyson: My apologies, Ike. Though I knew this was coming... It's still... difficult. Ike: Don't apologize. You've nothing left to prove to me. Reyson: ...Ah... ... Ike: ...

this little moment is somewhat opaque to me. when reyson says “I knew this was coming”, it’s kind of unclear what he means. but he’s very affected: I think this is the most lost-for-words we ever see him. it seems like he’s referring to tibarn’s rather brusque departure, but he and tibarn have already been separated prior to this. it might be that he finds it exceptionally difficult to be on the receiving end of tibarn’s guilt and accept his apologies (“wait a minute I’M the one who apologizes to YOU”), and is upset that they’ve parted on such unsettled terms. (he also apologizes to ike here, for no overly apparent reason - for being lost in thought, I guess)

reyson is also: very stubborn. despite his moments of overapologizing or lowkey fawning, once he gets an idea in his head, it is difficult to argue him out of it. eg: when he learns that naesala is on the battlefield, he refuses to speak a word to him. eg: tibarn, upon delivering reyson to ike as a party member, drily remarks that reyson insisted upon this “quite unreasonably”. see also:

reyson & tibarn’s reunion in serenes forest, in PoR ch 17 pt 4, I think makes for a good reytib case study re: pre-canon and mid-PoR rey:

Tibarn: Reyson! Are you well? Reyson: Tibarn! How did you-- Tibarn: Nealuchi told us everything. Reyson: Oh... Allow me to apologize. I left on my own without a word to you, and this is what happened. Tibarn: As long as you're unharmed, all is well. Let's go home.

(despite having been the one victimized, reyson’s first reaction - after establishing how tibarn found him - is to apologize to tibarn, sort of stiffly; implicitly for the recklessness of acting without leave, and/or the inconvenience of needing rescue. tibarn reassures him.) (one must wonder if they’ve had similar conversations before.) (they have definitely had similar conversations before.)

Reyson: Please, give me a little time. I cannot allow these humans to remain in the forest. Tibarn: I understand how you feel, but we're completely outnumbered. Let us wait for another day-- Reyson: Once I stand at the altar, I can take care of them. Every one of them. Tibarn: You can't mean... Are you thinking of using the forbidden magic? Reyson: ...Yes. I will sing those monsters the dirge of ruin.

(chilling calm, on reyson’s part - he outlines his plan with self-assured clarity, as if reassuring tibarn in turn: “no, see, it’s okay, I can simply commit an affront to nature and destroy them all, every single one, and also myself, and then things will be fine” babygirl things will not be fine)

Tibarn: Are you mad?! You mustn't! I can't allow it! Reyson: With permission or without, I do what I must! It is retribution for genocide! Retribution for this forest!

(tibarn reacts with outrage, and attempts to assert authority. perhaps this isn’t the response reyson wanted or expected - despite his apologetic demeanor just moments ago, he is provoked to righteous anger. he counters tibarn passionately, and directly states his intent to disobey. stubborn lad fronts like he defers to tibarn, but doesn’t, really. (see also, again, reyson making tibarn bring him back to ike)

Tibarn: Reyson! You must not let yourself be ruled by despair! Each member of the heron tribe is an embodiment of balance! Do this, and you warp your very existence! Reyson: That's what they all said... My family. My tribe. And then...they died. The humans were drunk with joy. They laughed! They sang! ...And then they slaughtered us like livestock. My mother, my brother, my elder sisters... Even my infant sister, Leanne! All killed in a single night. Tibarn: Reyson... Reyson: I know. This thing I intend to do brings dishonor to my house. And yet ... I cannot forgive. And their past actions weren't enough; now, they violate the sanctity of the forest without a trace of regret! Accursed humans... I will never forgive them!

(tibarn invokes the Heron Ideal, what herons are “supposed” to be like - creatures who don’t defend themselves. this most of all seems to trigger reyson, who now describes the most traumatic event of his life in a succinct rhetorical monologue, in order to explain why he must act. the fact that he knows what tibarn is going to say before he says it suggests, again, that they have had similar conversations before. tibarn was going to make an appeal to honor, which hawks value; reyson brushes this off, so implicitly he 1) values revenge over the ideals of his people, and/or 2) thinks himself an unfit representative of heronkind anyway. self-destruction and disregard for his own safety is a major theme in his character arc & history - see also his supports with ike - but it seems he habitually goes about it in considered, methodical ways: even acts that might seem impulsive still have logic and thought behind them, albeit very skewed logic. he is not being portrayed as a lunatic here. even in the throes of self-destructive fury, he elucidates himself eloquently. like a prince, one might say.)

Tibarn: Don't you think we understand that? Reyson: ... Janaff: That's right! Prince Reyson, there's no need for you to reject your honor based on the likes of them! Ulki: The tragedy of the herons... The horror and pain of that night...lives on in all of us.

(tibarn coming in with the counterargument of all time: “yeah dude I know.” also I like to imagine tibarn just elbowed hitherto-silent janaff & ulki in the ribs to get them to chime in. to this, reyson says… nothing. ymmv on why, but to me this indicates some self-absorption: it’s difficult for him to see beyond his own pain. the suggestion that the hawks, too, grieve the serenes massacre - that he is NOT in fact alone in his suffering, that retribution doesn’t rest solely on his shoulders - is disruptive to him, and perhaps causes him to shut down a little.)

Tibarn: Let's return to Phoenicis, and think of a plan. You are right. This will not stand. The full power of the hawk nation is behind you. The humans will pay. Reyson: ...As you wish...

(from here tibarn is able to get reyson in hand - by offering empathy for his pain, promising to appease his desire for revenge, and suggesting that this is only a delay; in short, by further establishing that reyson isn’t alone. it seems only semi-successful, though. reyson capitulates, but only reluctantly - he may or may not believe that what the hawks promise will be adequate.)

RADIANT DAWN

in RD, we get less of reyson (boo scrapped supports booo) but the reyson we do get has undergone some visible growth while still retaining key aspects of his initial character. overall, he seems a more self-assured, confident, stable person. his purpose is in family (both hawks & herons) and friends, rather than the grimdark stuff. he still displays plenty of his signature stubbornness, and pride, and a bit of temper. he’s also at his best and most physically/magically powerful throughout a lot of RD, thanks to ashera’s judgment. some notes:

his chief attribute seems to be stubbornness: when he goes to check on tibarn following the phoenicis massacre, he comes in dashing ahead of janaff and ulki, who are begging him to wait and leave tibarn alone for a while. his concern for tibarn overrides all other considerations, including, seemingly, tibarn’s own will (also results in the infamous had-to-tie-him-to-the-bed joke).

he is still well-spoken; he exhibits more focus and restraint when he curses people, although he does certainly still curse people (naesala)

instead of apologizing to the hawks for being a burden, he seems to have developed a more conscientious sense of loyalty (a hawkish sort of honor, one might say). his empathy for the phoenicis massacre, as a survivor of genocide himself, isn’t really explicitly unpacked, but afterwards he refuses to be escorted to safety in gallia:

Reyson: I've lived with the hawk tribe for twenty years. They are my family. I'll... I'll stay here and fight.

tibarn no longer openly orders janaff & ulki to guard reyson. instead, the two beg ike not to let reyson know their purpose, and to just play it off like they’re joining the mercenaries. it seems that reyson, despite no longer being self-destructive, still doesn’t like being babysat. if he knew, would he be apologetic about it again? or would he get annoyed, which the hawks don’t want because they’re all heron-whipped by now? I’m inclined to think it’s the latter these days. (worth noting that tibarn is knowingly going against reyson’s wishes here. worrywart)

before singlehandedly reviving duke renning - an unprecedented act- reyson reassures tibarn, saying not to worry for him because he’s “grown a lot”. contains multitudes

something more often neglected: reyson in PoR displays some kind of sad naïveté, especially where naesala is concerned; conversely, in RD, he has moments that are almost childlike, with a much happier affect. this exchange between him and tibarn often gets eclipsed by how fuckoff gay they are, but I like the implication that herons are a little bit incomprehensible to normal people, and this can manifest in a bit of cloud cuckoolander behavior (I wonder how else it might have manifested in all those years he was less stable):

Tibarn Reyson! Where are you!? Reyson: Over here, Tibarn. Tibarn: What are you doing so early in the morning? Reyson: I'm hunting for treasure! Tibarn: Could you repeat that?

last thing: reyson is interesting in dialogue with ashnard as well as micaiah. he doesn’t exactly argue with them, nor do much raging. if given the opportunity, he questions them almost socratically - he asks ashnard what he believes and why; he does the same thing with micaiah when they’re at odds, and then presents his own thesis (more gently and sympathetically with micaiah than with ashnard, obviously):

Reyson: I am Reyson. My brother told me about you. That is why I'm here. Please pull back your troops. Our enemy is not Daein. This is not your fight. Am I not correct? Micaiah: I know how you feel... (…) But I must keep fighting. Reyson: Why is that? Micaiah: This fight is my king's will. (…). I believe that our king will lead the people of Daein to happiness. Reyson: ...I see. I understand your position. Please accept my apology for asking the impossible. Micaiah: What? What do you mean? Reyson: You are fighting to protect your beliefs. I understand that now. But remember that we also cannot, and will not, pull back. We both carry a heavy burden. That's why we're here.

I just think it’s fun, the difference between mid-PoR “blinded by hatred nobody-could-possibly-understand-my-pain” Reyson, and end-PoR/RD “let me make sure I have my enemy’s rationale down correctly so I can respond with devastating precision” Reyson. (notably, in PoR, he extends this courtesy to naesala after the summit.)

anyway that’s a big mess of a post but maybe someone will find it a little inspirational or something if they feel like writing reyson. & pls do write about reyson, whether you take my analysis into account or not. pls. inflict situations on my most precious boy. 🕊️

[tightjeansjavi]

Cigarettes & Feelings | Part 3 | Javi Pena x f! Reader

“you got me stumbling; you never give me a break”

A/N: I am so pleased with how this chapter turned out. I sat on it for awhile and didn’t want to force myself to write when I wasn’t feeling the motivation. I appreciate your patience ♡

~word count: 4.2k~

Summary: Javi shows you that beneath his playboy exterior, he’s just a man that left everything he knew behind to pursue a new life.

Warnings: some angst from both Javi and the reader, flirting, banter, a truce is made, Javi and the reader actually connect, mentions of alcohol and smoking cigarettes, late night talking, Javi opens up about his past, the reader sees him in a new light, some sexual tension/pining in the beginning, Javi acts as true gentleman, light fluff, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions but is from the states, pet names used: cariño and hermosa +18 minors dni!

Bogotá, Colombia 1988

You felt flustered under the DEA agent's gaze. The night air was balmy, and his distinct fragrant cologne was wrapped around your senses like a snake. Twisting, squeezing, spinning your brain like a brightly lit merry-go-round.

Javier smelled like sex. Not the grimy kind. He smelled of leather, cigarette smoke, and faintly of women’s perfume. A combination that you should be turning your nose up at, yet here you were feeling your resolve slowly begin to crumble.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Javier?” You boldly asked.

Javi raised a brow in your direction, lips curving up into a small smirk. One that sent your stomach into a fury of butterflies. There was something so slick about the way he smirked. Something underlying with brandished provactism. Javier was expertly practiced in the art of flirting. He was a man nonetheless, and your boldness caught him off guard.

“Is a man not allowed to tell a woman that he thinks she’s beautiful without there being an underlying reason behind it?” His tone was casual, even keeled as he hid the twinge of trepidation building in the pit of his stomach. “I think you’re beautiful, and it would almost be cruel for me to not be honest with you, querida.”

Your mouth fell open as you processed his words and the sincerity behind them. On the surface level you felt like a cornered mouse about to become the street cats next lunch. On the inside? You were struggling to keep the heat pooling in your tummy at bay. You didn’t want to boost the agent’s ego by confessing that you think he’s attractive as well. No, you were going to hold up your defenses for as long as you could muster it.

“Well, thank you Javi. I’m simply gushing that you think I’m beautiful.” You teased.

Well, there goes that plan of not boosting his ego..whoops. Better luck next time!

Javi cocked his head to the side as he tried to decipher if you were just messing with him or if his words truly did have that effect on you. You were frustrating to read, and even more-so now than ever. “Shall we..head out?” He gestured to his car in the awaiting parking lot below. I need a fucking drink. He silently thought to himself.

The next thing you did was surely going to melt and rot away the DEA agent’s already fragile state of mind. You had ever-so innocently plucked the burning cigarette from between his lips and placed the unlit end between your own. You took a long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side as his jaw went slack at your actions. “I never took you for the smoking type. I would have offered you one earlier if that was the case.” He casually stated as he watched the way your lips effortlessly wrapped around the tip of the cigarette. He found himself transfixed by the way the smoke billowed around your head like a misty halo. Your lips were lightly stained with lipgloss, and he found himself pondering if the flavor would taste like cherry, strawberry, or perhaps some other fruit. They were glistening under the street lights, like glazed sugary sweets. Delectable and melting on one’s taste buds.

“I only smoke on rare occasions or in a social setting. There’s a lot of things you would never take me for, Javier.” You took one more drag before placing the cigarette back between his lips. Cherry. That’s what your lipgloss consisted of. He found himself already pining for a proper taste.

Javi knew right then and there that he had to play his cards right. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume that you were flirting with him, but at the same time he was absolutely hoping that you were. “So, what kind of cigarettes does a woman of your stature prefer to smoke?” He asked casually.

“A woman of my stature? That’s an interesting way of phrasing it Peña. If you must know..I quite enjoy the flavor of Marlboro Reds.”

Javi brushed the tip of his thumb across the bridge of his nose. A habit he would display when he was feeling particularly flustered in a situation. Although he wouldn’t admit it, your quick snap backs and confidence had his brain reeling. He cleared his throat as he gestured to the staircase leading down to the parking lot. “Shall we?”

You stared back at the DEA agent with your brow quirked suggestively. What happened to suave Javier Peña? Perhaps you had pacified that part of himself momentarily. Javier stared right back at you, almost in a challenging stance. Neither of you blinked as the tension seemingly simmered hotly through the close proximity you shared.

“Lead the way, Peña.” You said amusedly.

Javi finished off what was left of his cigarette as he flicked the end over the railing. You were graced with another whiff of his cologne as he breezed past you, footsteps heavy along the metal railing. He was already at his car by the time you finished locking your front door and meeting him in the parking lot.

Stolen glances were shared when he held open the passenger door for you like a true gentleman. Small talk was exchanged on the short drive to the local bar. Javi couldn’t help but wonder if tonight would finally be the night that he would break through your hard exterior shell.

His hand was gingerly resting along the small of your back as he walked alongside you. This was a safer part of town, but he always erred on the side of caution. He felt the goose flesh raise along your exposed skin where his warm palm was placed. His fingertips were just light toying with one of the straps on your dress. He half expected you to swat his hand away and scold him. However, he was pleasantly surprised that you did quite the opposite. You neither leaned into his touch or shied away.

To say that Steve was surprised to see you and Peña walking into the bar together was an understatement. His jaw literally dropped to the goddamn floor and Connie had to pick it up for him. Javi was already giving him the “don’t say anything please” look with just his eyes alone.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Steve raised his bottle of beer in yours and Javi’s direction. “We were beginning to think that you were going to be a no show, Jav.” He grinned at him over the rim of his beer.

Javier offered to let you slide into the booth first, following you shortly after as he shrugged his signature leather jacket off, revealing another one of his many too tight to breathe shirts. This one was purple, and he looked goddamn handsome in it. “Sorry, got caught up doing some paperwork back at the office, and wanted to invite the newbie out for some drinks.” He shot you a subtle wink.

“Oh? So that’s what I am? The newbie?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes when he had winked at you. “I’ve been here for well over a month now, Javi.” You let out a faux sigh of disappointment and usually Javier would have a quick comeback, but he was determined to be in your good graces.

“Cariño, c’mon. You know I’m just kidding, right? Besides, I meant it more as a term of endearment? Yeah..that’s how I meant for it to come across.”

You gave the DEA agent a playful shove to the shoulder, your eyes light and teasing. “Oh, I know that’s how you meant it. I was just looking for an excuse to give you shit.”

“Ohh ha ha ha. Very funny, you really got me there missy.” He softly chuckled.

“I’m just shocked to see you both here in one piece. How the hell did you not end up ripping his head off?” Steve asked with a raise of his brow.

“Javier actually isn’t terrible company, when he’s not putting all his energy into flirting with me. I actually was pretty surprised when he asked me out for drinks without any ulterior motives.”

“I told you I really am not all that terrible of a guy, once you give me a chance. I’ll take this as a truce?” Javier outstretched his hand towards you with a gentle smile.

You eyed his gesture suspiciously before ultimately offering him your hand. Much to Steve’s disbelief, you and Javi firmly shook hands.

“It’s a truce, Peña.”

You and Javi had hardly touched your beers that stood next to one another on the table. The bottles had been sitting there long enough that condensation began to form along outside. It wasn’t that either of you weren’t in a mood for drinking, it was just that you and Javi were fully immersed in a conversation. He was sitting close enough to you in the booth that his knee was lightly brushing yours, and his arm was outstretched along the backside of the worn leather. His fingers were close enough that they could have easily brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder, but he refrained; Javier was a gentleman of course.

“So, what made you want to fly all the way out to Bogotá? Was it your first option of choice or did you have a list of places to choose from?”Javier asked with a piqued, genuine curiosity about you and your life.

“I originally wanted to go to Italy and live on the Amafli coast with my rich husband that I have yet to meet..although, I bet he’s still out there and waiting to whisk me away on his Vespa.” You sighed dreamily. “I had always wanted to go to South America because of the rich and colorful culture, and I had a few friends that have made the trip as well and they all recommended it.”

Javier was listening to every word that passed your lips with intent. His gaze gently rested along your eyes and he thought it particularly cute that one of your main mannerisms when talking was that you used your hands to emphasize your words. Your facial emotions had a depth of range, and when you were passionate about something anyone in the room could easily depict it.

“The Amalfi coast, huh? Italy is very beautiful, and I’m sure you’d have no problem getting swept off your feet by some rich Italian hunk. I think you’ll find that Colombia has so much to offer, and you’re right about the rich and colorful culture here. It’s everywhere you look. Y’know, if you’re looking for a professional tour guide, I’d happily be your man.”

“I actually might have to take you up on that offer but don’t let it go to your head all at once, okay? I would hate to miss out on an opportunity to experience all that Colombia has to offer. What about you Javier? Was Bogotá your first choice?”

“I promise I’ll be the utmost professional. I would hate for you to get sucked into any of the tourist traps around here either. If I’m being honest with you, I outgrew Texas and needed a change desperately. You know that feeling of being trapped and living in a routine that is doing more harm than good? That’s what was beginning to happen to me. Anyway, in ‘79 I got my bachelors degree in sociology, and when the opportunity arose for me to leave Texas, I took it without looking back.”

You had not expected Javier to open up to you in this manner at all. It made you feel slightly guilty for creating a predisposition on who he was at the core. You were beginning to understand that you and Javi had a lot more in common than you would have ever thought. “It’s admirable that you recognized that in order to be happy, you needed to make a drastic change. I wish I had taken the leap sooner because for months I was weighing out the pros and cons to leave the states. The pros eventually weighed out the cons, and I’m happy I made the choices I did.”

“It was..tough to say the least. I pictured my life turning out completely different, and maybe then I still would have been happy, but those what ‘if’s’ had just started to fucking eat me alive. I was losing sleep and myself through the process. I left a lot behind in Laredo, including..” he paused as he stroked his thumb across his mustache in contemplation over whether or not he should continue.

You could tell from his body language alone that whatever he was having an internal battle over was something deep and personal. You didn’t want him to feel like he needed to share all of his secrets in one go. So you hesitantly reached your hand out and gently placed it along his covered knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to disclose anything that you don’t want to, Javi. Okay?” You softly reassured him.

Javi’s eyes briefly glanced down at where your hand was presently purchased around his knee. Normally he wasn’t comfortable with any form of PDA but he could tell your intent was genuine, and for that sole reason he deeply appreciated it. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you..it’s just that you might look at me differently than you do right now. We all have skeletons in our closet though right? Mine just happened to be leaving my fiancée at the altar on the day of our wedding. If I was going to change my life, I had to let go of the people I loved the most. I did it for her own good because I don’t think she would have been happy with me for long. She’s married to a stockbroker from Dallas and from what I have heard from friends back home, is that she’s really happy. I’m happy for her. She’s a good woman and perhaps if I wasn’t so flighty, I’d be married to her now.”

You felt your mouth suddenly feel dry at Javier’s confession. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how devastating it was for both him and his fiancée. Despite this, you could also understand why Javi did what he did. You couldn’t really blame him for making the decision to leave his old life behind entirely.

“I promise you that I hold no judgment over your past, Javier. I can understand why you made the choices that you did and it sounds like it all ended up working out for the better. I hope that you were able to heal from that experience because I can’t imagine the feelings you experienced when you realized that you had to leave her behind. You're right about everyone having skeletons in their closet. I think that’s what makes human beings Innately human is the fact that we all have lived experiences, and some of those experiences may in fact be shared. You’re a brave man for letting her go because you knew she deserved better. I don’t know many people that can honestly say that.”

Javi swallowed the lump that he didn’t realize was actively growing in his throat. You were wise beyond your years and the way you spoke to him in such a genuine tone had him feeling connected with you on a deeper level. It had been years since he had ever wanted to dip his toe into getting to know someone again, but he was secretly hoping that he would get to experience it with you.

“I appreciate you not holding it against me. I know it’s a large ball to drop on someone that you’ve only just started to become friendly with, but I figured that you weren’t the type to fault someone for their raw honesty.” He placed his hand gently over yours and neither you or Javi had noticed that Steve and Connie hadn’t been sitting at the booth for at least an hour. They had quietly left the bar when they realized that you and Javi were deep in conversation and they wanted to give you both all the privacy.

“Please feel free to tell me if I’m being too straightforward, and I promise that I’m not trying to make a move on you, but you mentioned wanting to experience Colombia’s culture and that includes the cuisine. There’s this really amazing empanada place not too far from here that’s open into the early morning hours. It’s my favorite joint around here, and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get a late night bite with me? I’m genuinely enjoying my time with you, and I don’t want it to end.” Javi was unsure where his sudden confidence boost sprouted up from, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was due to his last conversation with Catalina and treating you with the utmost respect as a person.

You had half the mind to want to reach out and press the back of your hand against Javi’s forehead to check his temperature because this was not the Javier Peña that you had grown accustomed to. “I’m always in for a late night bite, and you had me at Empanadas.” You were already reaching for your purse just as Javi had placed down a few bills onto the table.

“It’s on me, cariño. I guess Steve and Connie slipped out when we were deep in conversation. I thought they were sitting there the entire time.” He remarked as he pulled out his pack of smokes and placed a cigarette between his lips before he casually slipped out of the booth and stood off to the side so you would have room.

“Thank you, Javi. I don’t remember them leaving either. What time is it anyway?” You slung your purse over your shoulder as you slipped out of the booth with ease.

“It’s a quarter to one.” He gestured to the wall clock above the bar as he lit his cigarette and slipped the lighter back into his pocket.

The late night air outside the bar was balmy and the nightlife was still present as you and Javi strolled down the street. “So, how did you find this empanada place? Did you just happen to stumble upon it or…?” You were walking alongside each other, one arm casted at your sides.

“I was drunk and absolutely starving.” He responded with a light chuckle as he blew the cigarette smoke off to the side so it wouldn’t billow around yours or his face. “It was my first weekend here actually and I stumbled out of the club and found this little slice of heaven. It was the best goddamn empanada I had ever had.”

“I could have guessed that you were drunk.” You softly giggled. “Well, I am fully expecting these to be the best goddamn empanadas that I have ever had the pleasure of tasting.” You looked over at him with a small grin.

What Javi really wanted to say was that you were cute; he opted to playfully wiggling his brows instead. “I think I can definitely handle that hermosa.”

Fresh empanadas in hand, you and Javier found a nearby park bench that neither of you knew it yet, but this specific bench was going to hold a sentimental meaning for both of you in the coming months.

The first bite was heavenly along your tastebuds. You had experienced your fair share of delicious food in your lifetime, but this empanada was on a whole other level.

“This is fucking delicious.” You mumbled between bites as your back comfortably rested against the parkbench. “You were not joking when you said that these were the best empanadas you had ever had.”

Javi has taken a few bites of his own as he eagerly watched for your reaction. “I don’t lie about stuff like that cariño. I take my food spots very seriously.” He stated with a chuckle as his hand that wasn’t holding the empanada was gently resting along the edge of the bench, fingers lightly brushing across the exposed skin along your shoulder.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what other places you are planning on showing me Javi.”

A comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you finished off your late night snacks. Javi was the one to break it in the end.

“Before you decided to take the leap and move to Colombia, did you have any dreams that you wanted to fulfill back home?”

You looked over at him feeling the heat of his body so close to yours with your knees brushing and the sound of crickets chirping in the background. “Oh, yes..I had many dreams before I left home. The biggest one was that I wanted to pursue writing in hopes to become a published author. I actually also got my bachelors in sociology, but I minored in English as well. Writing has always been something that I genuinely have enjoyed, but unfortunately it doesn’t pay the bills.”

“You were a sociology major as well? No wonder we get along so well.” He playfully teased. “What is your favorite genre to write? I’m sure if you still had the desire to, you could put some time aside to write a book.”

“Yeah I actually started off as a psychology major but the courses were so pointed at the patients and not the outside factors. Not to mention all the fucked up experiments that went on..like the Stanford Prison experiment that happened in ‘71? Or the Learned Helplessness experiment in ‘65? That’s just to name a few. Anyway, I’ve dabbled in writing just about anything you can imagine. Romance, mystery’s, life experiences, you name it, I’ve written it. I would love to write a book someday.”

Javi turned his nose up at the psychology experiments that you had listed. He agreed that they were certainly barbaric in nature and he completely understood why you switched majors. “I do remember questioning the morals and ethics behind those two experiments when they came out, and I can understand why you were disturbed by it. I think any morally sound person would find situations like that to be disturbing to visualize. If you ever do end up writing a book, I’ll be sure to pick up a copy and be the first person in line at your book signings.” he expressed with a tender smile.

You weren’t sure if it was the glow from the overhead streetlight highlighting the DEA’s features in a certain softness, or if it was the ambience delivered from the chirping crickets, or the way that Javier showed genuine interest in having a late night conversation with on this very park bench. One thing was for certain, something had shifted inside of you positively and you wanted to nurture that feeling.

“Javi, I think this is the longest that you and I have had an actual conversation that didn’t involve you trying to get into my pants. Listen, I know that you and I got off on the wrong foot from the moment I met you, but I’m genuinely having a really nice time with you right now.” Your soft admittance had the DEA agent feeling slightly flustered under your gaze.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to be nice or anything, right? I genuinely have had a really wonderful evening with you hermosa. It’s been a long time since I have connected with a woman like this. I just want you to know that I have no ulterior motives for asking you out for a late night bite. I really would love to get to know you, and I know that I let my ego get ahead of me in the beginning. I’m more than appreciative that you have given me what I feel is to be a second chance? I won’t deny that I find you to be incredibly attractive, but there’s more to you than what meets the eye..”

“No, I’m not just saying it to be nice or to inflate your ego or anything like that. My words are genuine and if I didn’t want to be here right now, I most certainly wouldn’t be. All night you have shown me a different side of yourself, and I hope that I get to see more of you, Peña.”

Neither of you had realized that your bodies were naturally gravitating towards one another as Javi’s thumb and forefinger gently came to rest along the cleft of your chin.

“Can I kiss you, please?” He whispered through the balmy air that blanketed you in a humid embrace.

“Yes, you can, Javi.” You murmured in response.

The tip of Javi’s thumb lightly brushed across your lower lip as he leaned in. His eyes flickered down to your own as he replaced his thumb with his lips pressing to yours. It was a slow, gentle kiss that had you feeling breathless the second his lips touched yours. Javi’s kisses were delicate and sincere, with a slight edge of something deeper as his hand cradled your jaw. Your lips moved in sync as the crickets chirped and the stars above twinkled. He only deepened the kiss when you leaned in closer, grasping the collar of his shirt as his tongue swiped along your lower lip with practiced ease.

You tasted just like he imagined; cherry lip gloss with a hint of cigarette smoke that lingered on your tongue.

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @darkroastjoel @userpedros @pedrospartner @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @yazsos @last-girl @amanitacowboy @lovers-liability @tinygarbage @777-wonders @dinsdjrn @myrealmofchaos @loquaciousferret @pedrostories @axshadows @dev1lm4n @cavillscurls @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @soaringcloud @casa-boiardi @pattwtf @marvel-nerd-girl

[be-my-ally]

We can't go on together (with suspicious minds) fic. 1.

first post! i've been working on a mini series of these, where the reader confronts Elvis about his other girls and his reaction to being called out. I think we're going to go for a classic and name the series Suspicious Minds? This is the first, completely inspired by that phonecall with anita, and the story from priscilla about Elvis' reaction to her divorce request.

Pairing: Elvis/afab!reader (I imagine BDE but I think you could probs picture whatever era you like)

Summary: Reader is upset at being forced to watch Elvis constantly touching and kissing other girls - his solution? fuck her until she doesn't care anymore.

warnings: 18+, blowjobs, sex, demanding!Elvis, jealous!Elvis, possessive!elvis, idk yandere? maybe a little? slight dubcon, especially in the second half. tiniest breeding kink. arguing as foreplay, references/allusions to infidelity, mention of pregnancy. Reader is definitely being manipulated here. Elvis is not being nice.

wc: 5.7k (this was meant to be under 2k whoops) I kind of hate the last couple of lines but if I didn't decide I was done there this was gonna go on forever so there we are!

The fact that Elvis kisses forty girls a night is neither here nor there, they are indiscriminate from one another and don’t mean anything - you know that. He simply has to kiss as many girls that he finds unattractive as much as those that catch his eye; although whenever he argues this point you’re uncertain if he truly knows how to be unattracted to a girl of any kind.  But you’ve so far taken it at face value - he was yours at the end of the night and you were in his bed, in his home, and honestly that’s all you cared about. You could let the other girls have their seven seconds with him.

You probably, at this point in your relationship, cared far too much about him but he made you feel like no-one else has ever done. You wonder sometimes if he even knows how love feels - or if he just truly has to be permanently in love to live, he says it so easily and freely. Regardless, you can’t help but believe him when he says he loves you. There’s just something about him, a strange magnetism or force that allows you to forgive and forget a lot more than you usually would. Constantly desperate for his approval when really he should be begging for yours. You’d beg him to pay attention, accuse him of being distant and he would somehow always turn it back onto you - “You’re just so damn needy,” and “I can’t just rush off to see you when you want, I’m a busy boy Darlin’,” until he became exasperated; “Lord, stop naggin’ me woman.” You accepted it, in a way you wouldn’t from anyone else - you simply argued your case as much as you could, hung up the phone, sobbed, and then ran to him gladly when he offered you any scrap of attention. Why didn’t he like you enough to listen if he claimed to love you?

It’s not the girls at the concerts you worry about, throwing themselves up at him, clawing at him - that display of unwomanly desire is as unattractive to him as can be, entertaining rather than arousing, and you know that for him it really is all about putting on a good, memorable show for the audience. It is as much a part of his stage personality and persona as his jumpsuits are; women and girls go to see Elvis expecting to come home kissed.

It’s the afterparty girls you find difficult. It’s when you see, from across the room or even from right beside them, his hand inching up their thigh; when their legs tangle together, or he pulls their feet on his wide spread thighs that you start to feel like its wrong. You mind it less if you’re not there to see it, and you can tell Elvis knows this too - judging from how often you’re sent home to Memphis, only called back to Vegas every few weeks. Whenever you talk on the phone you ask him about the other girls - if there are any, if there’s anyone special. He always denies it and reminds you over the phone that “I’ve only got eyes for you little darling.” But that “a man’s got needs mama” or even, “I’m a polite boy baby, I can’t just shove em offa me!” And you agree - he can’t exactly shove girls off of him, but maybe he could just…invite them over less?

 But really who knows what else he is supposed to do. It’s not like there’s a precedent for this, nor is he likely to listen to your suggestions. So you accept it all, simply as part of the price of being allowed to maintain rotation in his orbit. 

But still it’s hard. Especially when it’s been days since you last had the chance to really see him, or spend any time with him and he’s sat there lapping up the attention from these goddamn groupies like a sultan with his harem. You can’t help but go cold to his advances, giving him one word answers when he deigns to talk to you across the room. You can tell you’re annoying him, he hates to be publicly defied especially from one of his women - from his main woman, and you can tell he’s chewing his cheek by the clench of his jaw when you respond again in words of one syllable. As if to annoy you further you watch him shift in his seat, spreading his legs further apart, and laughing as he tips his head back in response to whatever blondie to the right of him says. It causes the fabric of his trousers to go taught, and his neck muscles tighten - veins appearing to tense. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you close your eyes for a second. He’s unfairly attractive like this, in fact, he’s blinding to look at and you can’t help but shift your thighs together. 

When you open them he’s staring back at you. You inadvertently make eye contact and he winks. You forget for a second you’re angry at him, and can’t stop the heat rising up you. But then you watch his arm flex around the girl to the left of him and you regain your senses, looking away with a flick of your hair. You count to a hundred, pretending to keep the conversation up with Jerry while you wait to glance over again. When you look over again he’s whispering in her ear, and you can’t help but glare. He seems to sense you, and looks over her cheek to you. He leans back and nods to his dressing room door.  You purposefully ignore him, turning back once again to Jerry. A second later you can hear movement behind you and Elvis’ voice rises above the noise of the conversations around you; “I’m sorry sugar, but I’ve got some business to see to.” Your ears are attuned to him, and you have no idea what the conversation you’re in is anymore, listening to hear what this business was and trying to judge from the sounds what his movements are from behind your back. A second later you don’t have to try and guess as his hand touches your elbow, 

“Come on now darlin’ lemme borrow you for a sec.” You look at his hand on your elbow and your eyes narrow at him, but he’s looking at you like he’s daring you to say something, playfully half expecting you to make a scene. But that’s not your style and he knows it. You flick your head back around to Jerry and Charlie and say, 

“Sorry guys, the ‘King’ called.” You add a sarcastic edge to your words and playfully roll your eyes. You turn around to head towards his dressing room and jump as Elvis’ hand connects with your ass - propelling you forward, he walks you towards the door laughing as the boys behind continue their conversation as if you were never there. 

You pull away from him as soon as you’re on the other side of the door and look at him affronted when he shuts the door with a definitive click and turns around, practically leering at you and rubbing himself over his trousers. 

“Oh, you must be joking.” You scoff, you can’t deny you’re almost always turned on around him, but you do have some level of self respect. 

“Come on now baby, don’t be like that, thought you’d wanna help me out?” He pleads, looking at you hopefully. 

“That fuckin’ groupie gets you all riled up and i’ve gotta be the one to deal with it.” You roll your eyes again, crossing your arms over your chest. He frowns, 

“Well - if it’s such a chore don’t fucking bother.” He shrugs, and looks down at himself, “I’ll just….deal with it myself.” He rubs again before untucking himself from his trousers - his cock jumps when it hits the slightly chilly air, and you can see his foreskin tighten a little in response. He licks his palm ready to get himself going but pauses before he touches himself. He looks down, looking like a kicked puppy, “Never thought you’d wanna leave me like this though little mama,” he touches himself once, twice, starting to peel back his foreskin from his head, “please baby, help me out?” He’s talking in that utterly stupid baby voice of his, and even before the question is fully out of his mouth you know you’re going to give in, that you can’t resist him. 

He practically whimpers a further. “Please baby? Please!” and you know you’ve had it. You’re incapable of denying him any further. You move as if he’s got you on strings, dropping to your knees in front of him. You can feel your wetness start to form - the response to this position is pavlovian at this point. You nod once, 

“Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.” He looks down at you and winks, starting to gather up your hair in his hands to hold it away from your neck and face. He brushes a finger down your cheek and taps it against your lips, 

“As if you had a choice.” Despite the slightly sinister statement you can’t help but find his confidence endearing and you giggle, already feeling better now that he had you alone. Proof that he chose you. 

He’s always gentle at first, allowing you to lap at him, tiny kitten licks as you gaze up. This time is no different, you feel like you’ve been there for half hour, although its probably closer to three or four minutes by the time he starts to insistently push his head against your lips. He lets you control the pace for the moment and you obediently bob up and down on him. He looks down at you, his lips are in a little pouty grimace, and his pupils enlarged so that the clear blue of his eyes is barely visible. He’s clearly losing the battle at staying hands off, and this is even more true when a moment later you feel his grip on your hair tighten. He pulls you further, causing you to choke slightly before you adjust to the deeper motion and it doesn’t take long before he’s completely controlling the pace and depth. 

He speeds up, his eyes slightly manic as he thrusts forward, fucking into your mouth even deeper and remaining deeper to match his quicker timing. He drops your hair and with one hand he holds the back of your head, while the other creeps around your shoulders and neck to rest on the base of your throat, his fingers gently wrapping around. He pulls you all the way off, and a trail of drool connects you before you lick your lips, his precum and your spit mixing into a bitter tasting foam. He nods at you and you take a deep breath, allowing him to pull you forward once more. You hollow your cheeks, and use all the techniques you have, swirling your tongue and humming, and it doesn’t take long before he’s pulling you tighter, harder and quicker, and after that barely any time at all his hips stutter and he’s releasing down your throat, his fingers stroking where he can feel you gulping it down. 

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” 

He leaves you there, he’s normally very generous - but today he doesn’t even order you to touch yourself. It feels like he’s proving a point, that he gives you what you get. That you’re no different to him using the other girls who get him hard. There just for him to use you, get off. You feel frustrated, and hurt, and a tiny bit like a groupie or whore yourself. But, then he’s sweet as can be the next day - showing you off to reporters, planning a trip to Hawaii together and while you still feel slight unease at how you’ve been treated, you otherwise quickly forgive and forget. 

 ——- 

There’s a party at Graceland tonight, you’ve barely seen him and you huff as you fetch yourself another drink. He’s ‘holding court’ in the music room, playing to other’s requests when you head back to the kitchen. By the time you return he’s sat on that impossibly long sofa laughing and talking with the boys and girls on either side of him and mingling around the room. There’s nowhere for you to sit and you consider the floor for a second - but quickly realise that the place that puts you out of the way of people would put you directly at his feet. You hope he looks over at you, pushes the girl off who’s sat next to him to make room for you. But he doesn’t - instead you watch him lean over to whisper in her ear. You’re openly staring from the doorway now, as he cups her cheek and pulls her in for a kiss.. There’s raucous laughter in response from everyone else, and from the angle - when he opens his eyes mid-kiss -  you make eye contact. He doesn’t even flinch when he notices you. He pulls back and pats the top of her head, she grins - clearly satisfied with herself - and he heaves himself up. Whether to go to you, or just to head out of the room in general you don’t know - by the time he’s stood up you’ve stormed out. 

You take a few deep breaths in the slightly chilly outside air, and walk far enough away that you can look back upon the house. It’s shimmering slightly from the heat within, the windows are steamed up from the volume of people and you can see little plumes of smoke from the sheer number of cigarettes and cigars being consumed escaping into the night whenever the door gets open and closed. You’re not sure why it’s getting to you so much, but it’s like he’s trying to prove a point at the moment and you just have to accept it or find your limit.  You can’t help but let a few tears escape, it’s humiliating, to be treated like that in Vegas or on the road is bad enough but in your own home is almost too much to bear. But maybe that’s the point - it’s not yours really, it’s his and you’re not your own person anymore, you’re his. You stand out there until you can feel a chill setting in and head back inside, slipping upstairs and past the groups of people without saying goodbye, and climbing into bed. 

You don’t sleep, on edge waiting for him to come up, but you do feel yourself drowsing. When he does come up he ignores your body in bed in favour of the ensuite and by the time he reappears in his pyjamas you’re drowsing again. He slides in behind you and you almost inaudibly huff as he drapes an arm over your midriff, tucking a leg over yours. You huff louder, and pull away, turning around from him to face the other side of the bed. He tries to push up your nightgown and stroke your back but you reach your arm around to bat his hand away, you’re certainly not in the mood tonight. Not after his behaviour. “No Elvis. Not tonight. Not after you’ve had those girls all over you.” He pulls away and huffs. 

 “Come on darling, you’re being a bitch.” You roll over and pretend to be asleep. He ignores you.

The next morning you wake up and he’s gone but in his place, on his side of the bed, is a huge box. This isn’t rare - he often bought you presents, or left you clothing to be worn and normally you loved it. It wasn’t even because of the materialism of being bought the pretty things - the dresses and the jewellery; the shoes and the lingerie but rather the possession of it. Owning things he picked out for you with every expectation that you would, of course, be wearing it when he next saw you. Normally this gave you a thrill -  he didn’t even need to write it on a note anymore. It was just understood that you would, when such a box appeared, be bedecked in an outfit that would loudly proclaim you as histo those in the know, if not the world. His flashy, expensive but very specific fashionable and feminine style obvious to everyone who knows him. You peek inside the box to see a flash of green sparkly knit fabric and a red jewellery box resting on top, undoubtedly containing something absurdly over the top and expensive that he expects to see you in. Not this time though. This time the dress can stay in the fucking box it arrived in and you’re going to wear your jeans and a top you bought all on your lonesome. You’re not even going to look at whats in the red box. You feel outraged that he thinks you’d simply forgive and forget his behaviour the night before because he bought you a present. It's even more humiliating than being so publicly embarrassed; the implication that you can be bought so easily. 

You storm out of the bedroom once you’re dressed and your hair is brushed - it’s not styled, which would usually irk you (and him) but you’re honestly too riled up to care. The time for calm is over and you feel like you’ve been pushed to the edge too many times now. You burst into the den, the door slamming open, furious that you feel so out of control. So unlike yourself.

“El you can’t treat me like dirt and then try to buy me off.” He’s cut off in the middle of a take of a song. You can hear the recorder still whirring - that’s going on the tape forever. You’ll make them destroy this copy later, (or Elvis himself will you’re sure) he’s obsessive about keeping everything possible but its unlikely he’d want evidence of his lack of control of you here. The boys all turn to stare, their instruments faltering to a halt and Elvis spins around, before he’s even facing you you can tell he’s utterly furious. He’s practically shaking. 

“-Get the fuck outta here!” He roars, pointing at the door; “fuckin’ hell what do you think you’re playing at?” he tugs at his hair in frustration and you cross your arms. If you leave now and he doesn’t follow you’ll lose what nerve you have. You can only imagine how you’d end up regretting your outburst, simpering apologies to him later if you left now. 

“No.” You actually stamp a foot, and your brain is going fifty miles a second trying to regain your dignity, “No Elvis I won’t. I want you to listen to me.” He puffs out a short breath and starts to stalk towards you. Charlie puts his hand out onto his forearm, perhaps anticipating that with his temper and fury so high he might do something he’d later regret. But he’s unwilling to physically hold him back, and Elvis simply shakes his head at him and shrugs him off instead rushing forward and clutching the top of your arm. 

“Turn that recording off!” He shouts as you struggle against him pulling you towards the door. 

“Elvis! Let me go! Let go of me!” He uses your momentum of your struggle against him to almost trip you over, catching you across the waist and lifting you bodily out of the room. You continue to struggle, thrashing about in his arms as he lifts you up the stairs into the kitchen. He practically drops you when you reach the empty room and you attempt to jump away from him but he holds you steady with that same grip on your upper arm, swapping over to hold your wrist. He practically growls at you; 

“Let’s go baby.” He drags you upstairs to his bedroom, despite your protestations, and slams the door behind himself. 

“I ain’t about to have it out with you with all the boys lookin’ on in, like I can’t control my goddamn woman.” He leans in to sharply whisper at you and you laugh cruelly, finally managing to pull away.

“Maybe thats because you don’t have a woman to control Elvis. I ain’t been your woman in a long time! How can I be if you’re away all the time doing god knows what with god knows who! Or even being here and doing it!” His chest is heaving as he takes in your outburst. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

“Little girl, I’m not having the same argument with you twenty times over. We’ve already had this discussion and you’re really turning me the fuck up about it. I’ve got needs. I don’t know what you want me to say mama.” He’s clearly annoyed, but still trying to come across earnest - as if he doesn’t understand what’s angered you so much. 

“I want you to say that you actually give a damn Elvis. That you give a damn about me. About how I feel about it. About how if you promise me there ain’t another girl that there ain’t another girl that the boys are whispering about.” He rolls his eyes at you. 

“You’re not around all the time baby; I don’t know what you want me to say to you - I love you. That should be enough; why isn’t it enough for you? There ain’t no one I’d rather be with, it just ain’t always possible mama.” You absolutely can’t stand the glow that you immediately feel as he professes his love for you and it spikes your anger once again - since it comes attached to absolutely no attempt to deny his sheer infidelity.  

“Well, you’re not around either, and it’s not a choice I make to not be there for you. Maybe I should do like you do - after all ain’t a woman got needs too?” You placed your hand on your hips, chest heaving at the volume you’d not realised you’d reached.

“Don’t you dare lil’ girl, I told you there wasn’t anyone else. Don’t threaten me like that. You won’t like what you get back.” He tuts and shakes his head, and you’ve no idea where your sudden boldness comes from;

“What? Afraid I’ll like them more?”

He roars at you, throwing himself at you, pulling your hands up. He shoves his lips on yours and you have no choice but to acquiesce to his tongue’s insistent demands that you open your mouth. He growls against your neck; 

“I’m gonna make you see right now. Gotta show you, you belong to me lil mama. To me.” He pushes you down to your knees and it barely occurs to you to struggle. He’s gathering your hair in his hands - pulling it away from your face as you realise the argument’s clearly made him hard - the bulge in his trousers evident from your close angle. He pulls your head back with his grip on your hair and his other hand trails down your cheek to your neck, his fingers stretching around it. Just a presence there. You look up at him with wide eyes and a flushed face and he stares down at you. 

“You’re gonna ‘pologise to me for messin’ with my work. And for accusing me of all that shit and you’re gonna do it right now.” Your mind is gone, his eyes somehow holding you captive and all you can do is nod. “Right then, get little Elvis out baby and get to it.” He nods down at you and you quickly grasp his meaning, your fingers shaking as you fumble through unbuttoning his trousers. He is, like usual, not wearing any boxers so there’s no other fabric barrier that you have to get to before you’re able to pull his cock out. He pulls you by your ponytail and you immediately kiss the head, licking the tip and down in long stripes. He allows this for a moment before taking the hand from around your throat to slap his dick against your cheek - before insistently nudging it against your lips. The moment it’s in your mouth he pulls you down on him, barely giving you time to catch your breath. He’s rougher than he usually is right from the start and it's a struggle to keep up. 

You’re a mess of day old mascara and tears from your eyes watering, and spit and drool when he pulls out. Pulling you off of him entirely. He crouches in front of you and wipes at your face with his thumbs on each cheek before he pushes you backwards, although he supports your fall back with a hand under your neck - lowering you completely to the floor. He moves quickly to unbutton your jeans, tugging them down impatiently. It doesn’t occur to you to struggle, and while a little part of your brain is shouting at you to stop being stupid, that you’re losing the argument, that this wasn’t what you wanted to happen, a larger part can’t get over how good he looks in this moment - nor the anticipation of what you’re sure is going to be some pretty spectacular sex. “I hate you in these, baby.” You smile. That’s why you wore them. 

“Oh,” He smirks back at you. “I get it. Tryin’ to prove a point huh?” He grasps the legs as they unroll past your ankles and yanks. You hear the tearing as they split straight down the seam. “Point made Darlin.” He’s infuriating. He pushes your panties to the side and circles your clit, rubbing down before pushing into the pooling wetness. He slides in one finger, and it slips straight in so he immediately pulls it out to add a second. He pumps them a couple of times, crooking his finger in just the right spot to make you jump around him, your hips grinding of their own accord. You whine when he pulls them out, shoving them into your mouth and he drags you back closer to him. His other hand steadying his dick and he slips his other out of your mouth to better support his body. He pushes in, you’re wet as anything but barely stretched and you can feel every inch of him as he pushes into you. He stills for a second as he bottoms out, and you shiver around him. He looks back at you, his eyes blazing and his hair flopping forward, out from where it was so carefully slicked back. He’s still mostly dressed and it feels so wrong to be able to feel his slacks and open shirt resting against your naked skin but you forget all about this when he pulls you almost all the way off and slams you back down. He thrusts like this once, twice and the noises that come out of your mouth are obscene, your eyes rolling back. “That’s r-right my t-t-tight lil woman,” he stills for a second to kiss you and you clutch at his shoulders for balance as you try to get closer to him. He tugs at your lip before working his way down, sucking onto your collarbone. The heat is building in you, and you can feel it in your thighs, your pulse jumping, but his slow rocking motion isn’t enough to get you properly close; 

“El-Elvis, baby, baby, need you, need you to move.” You stutter out and feel his smirk against your neck. He then, if you didn’t know better, seems to lose control - his hips rocking in his signature way, as he fucks into you rapidly back and forth. 

His bedroom carpet is plush and expensive but still isn’t particularly comfortable to be rocked against as your t-shirt rolls up but he seems completely uncaring to the comfort of your skin being rubbed raw, focussed on his fingers getting you off and fucking into you as deep as he can get. You claw into the carpet as he makes your back arch in pleasure as he pulls away and drags you back onto him. You can feel the bruises forming in the shape of his fingertips on your hips. 

He’s out of breath with the exertion of the act and you can feel the sweat and heat coming off of him, as he thrusts so deeply it makes you choke as your head rocks forward. He lets out a breathless huff of laughter in response; 

“That’s right darlin’ gonna make you feel it.” You moan, and he continues, “Only way to get it through that thick skull of yours is fucking it into you.” He slams into you, and you shake as the words and his motions push you over the cliff. He continues talking but you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, and the noises coming out of your own mouth as you ride out the wave - his fingers and cock moving in the exact same way to coax you through it. He removes his hand and you feel like you can breathe again as you feel everything pulse around your core. He grips your thighs, “No-one else could fuck you like this, make you take it like this.” He punctuates his point with a rotation of his hips, pushing into you as much as he can - deeply rocking you, and you can feel his head knocking against your walls. You tremble, overstimulated from your brief orgasm a moment ago but still on the edge, “You think anyone else could make you feel like this?”

You rapidly shake your head, stuttering out a response, “No, no, nn-o.” He lets out a breathy, tiny gruff chuckle, 

“No you’re damn right baby. They couldn’t.” You moan, can’t help yourself and you feel him jump inside you, 

“Gonna knock you up darling, gonna make you mine forever.” and his hips stutter as you feel the pulse of his cum inside. You’re shocked at his announcement, but you feel yourself twitch in response and he goes to touch you again, feeling where the two of you join, his cock still inside, sliding his fingers up and down, and that’s apparently enough to send you over the edge again. When you come to he’s slipping his cock out of you, although he remains leaning over you to talk in your ear; 

“You interrupt me workin’ again doll, with shit like this, and you’re out. You understand me girlie?” You nod again, it’s like you’ve been struck cock dumb - you can barely even remember what you were annoyed with him about. He rubs your stomach and places a light kiss on your neck, he murmurs against your skin; “You can’t be jealous if I’ve given you somethin’ no one else has.”  He pulls away from you and redresses himself - well, pulls up his trousers and rebuttons his shirt. You lie there, panting, on the floor feeling his seed trickle out of you. He holds out a hand to you and it seems to take a lot of effort to take it, but you grasp his hand and he pulls you up in one tug. He holds you close and kisses you hard on the mouth, “Put  your present on,“ he glances to the box on the bed, and you nod, “Knocked some goddamn sense into ya now, haven’t I.” He declares it proudly, satisfied that you seem to be meek in agreement with him, and you smile back at him unable to even deny that his fucking you has caused you to agree with him. You turn away from him to head into the bathroom, clean yourself up a little and you can finally talk again as you go, your voice scratchy, “Don’t worry Elvis baby, I ain’t all amped up still.” You can practically feel him smile. 

“That’s good, honey, that’s real good.” He pauses, “If you can behave yourself you can come and join us, if you like, after you get yourself touched up.” You’re inspecting yourself in the mirror, responding with forced casualness, 

“Course!” As you assess your body, still flushed and littered with tiny bruises, you crane around to look at your back and wince at the carpet burn evident there. You shake your head, what a ridiculous thing to have done, when the bed was right there. You hear him leave and take a shaky breath in - how are you gonna sort your hair from this clearly debauched state. You glance down, looking at his fingerprints on your hips and sides, and consider your stomach for a moment. You wonder if he truly has, in his anger, joined you together for eternity. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but on every other occasion he’s ensured you’ve taken every precaution, short of abortion. Should you douche? You jump suddenly as you hear him sprinting back into the room, as if he could hear your thoughts he bursts into the bathroom. 

“Forgot to say mama,” He pauses and jabs his pointer finger at you, “you let that baby stick. It’s the only way to prove it to you. You let it be.”  You start to protest,

“Honey, sweetheart, do you…do you really think we should be doing this? That we should?” 

“You sayin’ you don’t want my baby, Sugar?” You lock eyes with him in the mirror and rapidly shake your head, 

“No-no-no! No! Elvis, No! Of course I do! I just, is this the way it should be done?” He laughs, 

“I don’t see how it makes the slightest bit of difference, we’ll have to go again, later, make sure - don’t see how we can tell which does the trick. Just that it’s done.” You turn to look at him properly, 

“We-ell ok then Elvie baby, let’s do it.”  

Later that night, when you’re sat watching a girl practically climb into his lap you feel a surge of pride - he glances over at you and winks - and you think, that's right have him for the second, but I’ve got what you really want; him all the time and his baby in my belly.

[iguessigotta]

Eddie gluskin with a pregnant darling maybe

you know what's funny about Eddie Gluskin being one of my faves? i am terrified of pregnancy just headcanons for now - this ended up being more an exploration of the inherent horror of this situation than anything shippy, whoops. also kind of an au where Waylon does not survive his encounter with Eddie 18+ just in case CW: injuries, noncon, hostage, pregnancy, suicide mention cannibalism(?) probably more i missed. (no r*** - it is alluded to tho) i mean it's Eddie. the man is a walking billboard for "dead dove do not eat" ok lmao

being Eddie’s darling wife was a living nightmare

you’d been one of the few employees allowed near Eddie, and he’d developed a….thing…for you. well, not you, really, more the idea of you

and when the Mount Massive asylum fell into chaos, you were one of the unlucky people trapped inside

when Eddie found you he was quick to make his image of you your new reality

whether you wanted it or not

you’d initially fought him at every turn. unfortunately, Eddie had a temper, and was prone to snapping with no warning

you’d learned that lesson the hard way - your forearm was still in a makeshift splint, a dull ache where he’d fractured the bone in a fit of anger. or had he broken it? you weren’t sure. all you knew is it hurt like hell and made it nearly impossible for you to fight back

after that incident, you thought keeping your head down and quietly obeying him was the smart choice. that you’d be safe enough to ride out this mess until someone arrived to help

you had to believe that someone was coming. you told yourself you’d be rescued within the week, that there was no way a facility as large as Mount Massive could go down in flames like this without someone noticing

days turned into weeks, weeks into months (how many had it been? 3? 4?)

every night you sat, ankles bound to your chair at the end of some wobbly, bloodstained table, Eddie at the opposite end, a makeshift dinner spread between the two of you

occasionally there would be some sort of meat among the sawdust-flavored rations - Eddie was always vague when you asked him what kind of meat it was 

you resisted for the first month, but your resolve broke a week into the second, the hunger pains driving you to tears and forcing you to make a choice

so you ate. and you tried not to think about where he got it from

it was like the two of you playing some sick game of house

Eddie kept a close eye on you when he was around, restraining you when he wasn’t

you’d be tied to a chair. strapped down on your back atop some bloodstained hospital mattress. arms bound behind you, tied to a support beam and forced to sit on the cold concrete floor

all of it was miserable

Eddie said it was for your safety, but you knew better. especially after he’d found you with a knife you’d managed to get your hands on. he’d stopped you from trying to slash your own throat, spewing some bullshit about his darling preferring death over a blissful life as the proud mother of his many, many children 

 he wasn’t going to let you leave him in any way

some part of you thought about pleading with Eddie to “think of the baby” and untie you - but that only reminded you that you were, in fact, pregnant

and it was starting to show

whatever mental energy you could spare went to trying (and failing) to block that fact out of your mind

you felt like you were trapped in two horror stories simultaneously - one, enduring whatever Eddie decided to do to you on a daily basis, and two, the unwanted life growing inside you against your will

not to mention the mental anguish of what to do after the…birth. would you even survive that? would you want to? 

should  you try to raise and protect it? or would it be more merciful if you…

it was a horrifying decision to make, one that you flinched away from whenever you found yourself thinking about it

every day you wondered if it would be better to piss him off, have him kill you in a fit of rage. it wouldn't be hard to do, but for some reason the knowledge that you were pregnant stopped you

well, you told yourself, at least you got to skip Eddie’s “operation table”. all the men who came before you weren’t so lucky, if the video on that camera you found was to be believed….