#the betrayal and NEED to hate him so bad bc she knew she never could

[bluemerakis]

reposting this again IDGAFFFFFFFF bc i just read it fully now and went through all the profound stages of human emotion and everybody say it with me: dolly’s paying for our therapy❗️❗️

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 !!

𐚁 bull rider ! beau arlen x high school sweetheart ! reader !! home has never been a place but a person, and he's finally ready to go back to you . . . six years too late. ℧ mdni !! sexual content. high school sweethearts to exes to lovers. couple's quarrels. festering tension. angry sex? word count : 14.1k (LMFAO) ☆ minor characters !! kelsey. daisy. delilah gaylestone. rhett gaylestone. moonlight. sunshine. brooks williamson. abigail williamson. ella gaylestone.

FIVE YEARS AGO —

“you really are livin’ proof of the american dream, ain’t you, beau arlen?” 

“why, yes ma’am, i’d say so.” 

you pause the tv on his face, taking in every single detail about beau that had changed in the last 6 years. his facial hair was fuller, hair a little longer and a lot less kempt. his eyes held deeper bags beneath them, but still shone with the glimmering gold-green that swayed you toward him in the first place.

you hit rewind, and then play again.

“mr. arlen! another victory under your belt buckle,” the interviewer says, sounding breathless even though she had not been the one atop a bucking bull, grasping at the horn of a saddle for purchase to keep from tipping off. “i’m sure this feels typical for you, by now.”

three championship belt buckles, four second-place trophies, and so many medals and roses that the mere announcement of beau arlen being next had the stadium littered in petals. 

not that you kept up with him, or anything. 

“the thrill never dies, no matter how many times it’s happened,” beau says, dimples dipping into his cheeks. he lifts the stetson off of his head, runs a sweaty hand through sweatier locks of hair. 

the interviewer’s name fades onto the screen below her too wide grin. kelsey jones wants in your man’s pants, and you aren’t entirely convinced that he didn’t take her home that night. how many fingers had undone that giant championship buckle, while you sat at home, waiting for a man too busy chasing thrills to remember what he left in the montana dust? 

“you really are livin’ proof of the american dream, ain’t you, beau arlen?” 

you turn the tv off.

behind you, daisy arlen clacks her toy blocks together, building a tower taller than she was. her gold-green eyes flick up to meet yours, little mouth parted in wonder, forming babbling sentences that were only ever semi-coherent.

this one sounded devastatingly close to the innocent ramblings of a little girl asking for her father.

you scoop her up, placing her in the crook of your hip that she lived in. "sorry, sweetheart," you say on a sigh, with a final glance toward the blank tv screen, "daddy ain't comin' home."

beau arlen was a friend of a friend of a friend. your best friend was a princess of a girl named delilah, most fondly known as del, who was dating a farmer's son named rhett, who was best friends with beau.

of course you knew all about beau. del couldn't seem to go a day without bringing up rhett, which most of the time had beau's name in her mouth too. you'd never properly met him except the occasional shared class in your small town's smaller high school, but you had a backlog of blackmail on him in the back of your mind.

he went to church every sunday after partying all night saturday with his friends. he snuck into rhett's barn to go for a late ride with his favorite of the gaylestone family's horses, moonlight. he so often stole from the arlen liquor cabinet that half of the vodka was water, and he misplaced which bottles were which all the time.

but meeting him? no, you'd never had the pleasure of it. del spent a lot of her time with rhett, but she never skimped on a girls' night every weekend, where you'd get to hear all of the shenanigans that the montana boys got up to.

it was routine. you got to know all of the little things about one of your town's most notorious rebellious cowboys, and pretended that you didn't know that, in turn, he probably got to hear all about you.

del sat on your bed, navy blue nail polish still wet on her fingers as she idly waved her hand around, humming along to whatever song drifted through the radio on your sidetable. "rhett wants to hang out tonight."

you startle from your spot next to her, a second coat of maroon drying on your own fingernails. "what? no. he knows every saturday is girls' night and," you wave your hand in a mock imitation of hers, "boys' night for him, or whatever."

"i know," she hums, like she wasn't trying to completely skew this routine you guys had built up since you were in junior high. "s'just that brooks is sick, and rhett doesn't like hangin' out one-on-one with beau. says they get all drunk n' sentimental."

you could think of so many worse things they could get up into besides cuddly and pouty, but teenage boys were prone to thinking a molehill was a mountain.

you don't look over at del, not wanting to look her in the eyes as she so casually tries to abandon you for a boy. you know, something that best friends always promise they won't do, before they do it. "so, you're gonna go hang with rhett and arlen?"

her eyes are on you; not glaring, but staring hard enough that it could singe your temple. "no. rhett and arlen wanna come over."

"what?" you sound like a broken record at this point, but seriously, what? "no way."

"you've got that ol' barn!" she argues, conveniently looking away when you fix her with your own stare. "your folks will never find out."

"delilah."

del stumbles on a little giggle, examining the handiwork of her freshly painted nails. dark blue like the sky and the headband she wore to keep the stray curly bangs out of her eyes. "it's just a one time thing," she assures, curling her fingers around your wrist, "don't you wanna meet beaauuu?"

"no." passing him in the halls was plenty, thank you. "no, i do not wanna meet beaauuu."

"beau wants to meet you." you close your eyes as if that alone could erase that sentence from your reality. "rhett said so. that's why i ever even brought this up, y'know? i wouldn't drop this on you if i wasn't desperately tryin' to get my girl coupled up for double dates with me."

the ulterior motives were sickening. you were in pajamas, for crying out loud, and now two of the three hellions of your grade were about to be at your house. not that you cared what rhett thought of you, or really what beau arlen did, but...

del had been your best friend since you two were in diapers. she could have read your expression without seeing it, looking straight through the back of your head. she nods toward your closet. "the white sundress. with those boots of yours." she smiles wide, like she wasn't turning the tides of time completely on their axis in one sentence. "beau likes cowgirls."

your family's barn was a rundown little thing on the edge of your property before it delved into fields. your father kept it up for sentimental value, having built a newer, sturdier one closer to your home. makes the walk shorter for me n' my old bones, he'd said once.

the ladder to the loft was unsteady and rickety, but you could still remember climbing up there when your hands were too small to properly grip the rungs, could remember running back to the house at sunset and your mom plucking pieces of hay out of your hair before supper.

it was oddly intimate, having this many people in a space that was once your favorite place. hell, even del had only been in here a couple of times, and now here she was, and her boyfriend, and... beau arlen.

he had that gleam in his eyes that mothers warned their daughters about, a head of hair that poked out through the brim of the hat he wore. he had a plaid jacket tied around his waist, leaving him in a dirt stained white tanktop and an equally stained pair of faded blue jeans.

rhett was already drunk and incredibly sentimental. he clung to del's arm like a bride walking down the aisle, nuzzling his face into her neck like a cat marking its scent. you didn't even get a chance to wish her good luck before he was attaching himself to her.

which left you and beau. beau, who stood in the corner of the barn, looking elusive and mysterious without even meaning to be. he had a sweaty glass bottle of beer in his fingertips, his other hand tracing idly over the splintering wood.

wanted to meet you, your ass. he'd isolated himself, looking just as awkward as you felt. it really was your fault for believing your best friend wouldn't make up some sort of tall tale to get to spend a full weekend with her boyfriend.

beau turned on a dime, his eyes finding yours, too fast for you to pretend you were not, in fact, staring at the back of his head. half of his mouth lifted in a smile. he doesn't say hi, or address it, just jerked his head in the direction of the wall he'd been looking at.

"there's writin' on it," he said, taking a quick swig from the bottle he held. "'m guessin' you're princess peach."

your face flushed against your will. you'd forgotten all about— "no, actually," you blurted out, as eager to throw del under the bus as she'd been with you, "that's del."

his smile widened for a second, before he turned back to the engravings on the wooden paneling. "so you were princess strawberry."

this was not a good idea. this space was not for anyone else but you and the littler versions of you that still lingered in memory. beau arlen did not do anything to earn seeing these glimpses of you.

"come over here n' stop wallowin'," he laughed, tapping a nail against the writing, "'m not judgin' you or anything, sweetheart. i happen to think it's endearing as all get out."

you really did not want to see his live reactions to the little scraps of your childhood in these walls, but what else were you supposed to do? let beau arlen walk your space on his own and third wheel with rhett and del?

so you walked up to him, the chipping wood barely doing anything to mask the words you and del had scratched into the walls many years ago. "if it makes you feel better," beau drawled, his voice softer now that you were shoulder to shoulder, "i used t'do the same thing when i was a kid."

"pretend to be a strawberry princess?" you asked incredulously, eyebrows shooting up on your forehead.

his laugh was as warm as a shot of whiskey. his teeth were straight and blinding in the moonlight. you'd been so adamant on never properly meeting him that you'd forgotten why you wanted to stay away so badly. boys like him, with smiles like that, were nothing but trouble.

"no, i used to..." he shook his head, glancing back toward his friend and yours on the other side of the barn. del was stuck in a sloppy slow dance with rhett now, and somehow, the stetson on his head was now on hers. you barely restrained the amused smile, and beau didn't even bother to try. "i used to pretend i was a cowboy," he finally said, head tipped down as he stares up shyly through his eyelashes. they were so long. his eyes were so green. good lord. "wrasslin' up all of the angry bulls. takin' care of business as the arlenville sheriff."

"arlenville?" you broke into a little surprised laugh. "no. no way."

beau nodded, his lips curling higher up at the sound of your laugh. this was a terrible idea, leaving you two alone like this, because now you were beginning to think that the double dates with rhett and del didn't sound so appalling. "yes way." beau sat the empty bottle in his hand down on a mottled barrel next to him, using both of his freed hands to throw a pretend lasso. "beau arlen, arlenville's hero, gatherin' up all the wild horses and settin' 'em back loose. cleanin' the streets."

it's so damn ridiculous that you couldn't help but laugh again. beau kept the invisible lasso between his two hands, tossing and tossing until he hooked you. his eyes told you that he was well aware of the fact that he'd already gotten you hooked, lined, and he was just waiting for the sinker.

"are you trying to say i'm wild, beau arlen?" you asked, and you couldn't even help it, really — he did have you lassoed! — when you inched closer by his pretend pulling.

beau's eyes raked up and down your figure, and something shifted in his gaze. another thing you'd heard down the grapevine of your interconnected friend groups was that beau arlen didn't date. he didn't ever really have interest in anyone, just on taking care of the farm he grew up on and causing mayhem every saturday before church with rhett and brooks.

but the look in his eyes said otherwise. those dangerous, golden green eyes. "i'm sayin' i'd sure as hell like to find out."

PRESENT DAY —

the radio filters through the speakers of beau's faded red pickup truck, the cab of it rattling as he presses the gas pedal down more firmly. the window is down, his elbow propped out of it, fingers tapping idly on the door's frame.

he hadn't been back in montana in six years.

he still remembers the day he left. you, standing on the arlen family farmhouse's front porch, waving bye as he backed down the dirt driveway. i'll be back after this competition, baby, he'd promised, the gps on his phone spouting monotone directions through the aux. you couldn't yet afford a plane ticket, so he opted to drive the twenty-two hour trip. a small price for following his dream, wasn't it?

you'd given him a kiss goodbye for good luck. it'd worked. he won the bull riding championship down in dallas's championship rodeo. he stayed an extra day to bask in the victory, following where the party went, enthralled by the way his name sounded in everyone's mouths. beau arlen, bull riding champion. had a hell of a sound to it.

and the following day, when the thrill of the rodeo died down, beau went chasing down another, and another. montana became a blurry memory in the back of his mind. he never forgot you, but you were definitely a reason that he kept away. how could he face you after he broke a promise like that?

but it wasn't easy to maintain a champion status when younger, more wily riders kept popping up left and right. there was a reason that most retired before their mid 30s. beau was getting up there, closing in on his thirtieth that year. it was hard to hang up the hat, harder to not think of it as giving up, but he had to be sensible somehow.

god knew he hadn't used his brain six years ago, when he threw something stable away for a job that gambled on his life, risking it for an adrenaline rush and a belt buckle to add to the collection.

still, beau was only a man. he rolls back into the town he grew up in wearing the most recent of his buckles, the final one he'd won. he may have been giving up the lifestyle and dream he'd chased for so long, but he wasn't going to undermine his accomplishments.

he remembers the path home, even years later, without needing to look it up. his parents had gifted him the family home as a wedding gift, making him promise to put it to good use. give us some grandbabies, his mom had told him, in front of you and the entire rest of his family and your family and all of your friends, with the sweetest smile on her face.

another promise he didn't keep. another one in the back of his mind that haunted him, day in and day out.

your car is parked up by the shed when he pulls in beside it. beau doesn't expect a warm, welcome greeting from you. hell, he's sure he's gonna walk up to the front doorstep and be met with your hand stinging his cheek. he'd deserve it, too.

there were so many memories in this house. you didn't want to go anywhere for your honeymoon, so you both spent it breaking in every piece of furniture, the air in the house so thick that the open windows condensated. rhett and delilah's wedding gift to you was moonlight's foal, sunshine. he'd take you down to the river on his property, tucked away between shady trees, paving trails with sunshine's hooves.

what could he possibly say to fix this?

beau bites the bullet, shoving the driver's door open and stepping out. he grabs his duffel from the bed of the truck and hooks it over his shoulder, his expression set in a grimace as he glances at the house again.

you were watching. he could see the bottoms of the curtains swishing with the sudden jostle. the front door stays closed.

he deserves this. he knows he does. but he'd kill to see you smile. to feel your arms around him as you welcome him home. but that sort of treatment was earned, and he hadn't earned any of it, not when he abandoned you for six years for a short-lived dream.

the porch steps creak under his boots, the wood soft and splintered with age. for a moment, beau just stands there. he can hear you moving around on the other side of the door; the soft sound of music drifts out from the gapped windows, your laughter echoes through the the heavy door he raps on.

three knocks. the doorbell doesn't work. he kept promising to fix it, and then he was gone.

your warm laughs gets closer, the music louder when you pull open the heavy door and meet his gaze through the screen door.

beau watches the realization settle on you. surprise, heartache, and horror, all in quick succession. your lips are parted in some semblance of mortification, and beau can't possibly understand why. anger and upset were what he expected — hell, his jaw was tight and steeled, still expecting the slap to come.

he does not expect the screen door to shove open into his shoulder, and a little toddler in a white sundress and cowgirl boots to barrel into him. "playtime!" she shouts, barely even processing the man attached to the leg she'd caught herself around.

his old cowboy hat falls off of her head and on his feet. he's on autopilot, his brain not catching up to the forefront of his mind yet, as he bends to grab it for her, anything to avoid the look in your eyes.

"t'ank you!" she says, flashing him a toothy grin, a prominent gap in the middle of her little baby teeth. she's off again before he can get another word out, but not before he sees her eyes. pale gold-green and glittery; the eyes of a dreamer.

a month passed, and beau and you ended up dating. rhett called it, getting a twenty dollar payout from brooks when he recovered from the bout of flu he'd gotten. they'd had a running joke that you'd end up being the girl to tie him down. it was just fact and fate; rhett was dating your best friend, delilah, and brooks was dating abigail, the third to your little friend group. who else would pair together with the single of his friend group, but the single of yours?

his parents brought you up every chance they could. it was an endless cycle of, when are you bringing that sweet girl of yours over? and do we ever get to meet your little girlfriend, beau? as if the town wasn't the size of his pinky, and they hadn't watched you grow up as much as they'd watched him.

beau wasn't keeping you from them, not really. he'd meant to bring you over for your first anniversary, but you'd both gotten a little tied up in each other in the high school parking lot. and then he'd meant to on prom, but your parents wanted pictures even though you were already running late, and, well, he loved your parents, so why would he deny that?

now, there was no escaping it. you'd both just graduated, and on a day full of celebrations, beau thought there was no better time than now to show you off to his family.

the entire family. he didn't intend for his parents and grandparents and every person in between to be back at his farmhouse when he'd drove up the driveway, but why else wouldn't they have been there?

"no." your feet are firmly planted on the car's floor, your arms petulantly crossed over your chest. "no, beau, i did not sign up for this."

"hell, neither did i," he grumbled, turning off the engine and spinning in his seat to face you better. the hand he had on your thigh squeezed reassuringly, a sympathetic smile on his lips. "c'mon, maybe it'll be fun."

your eye twitched. beau loved the hell out of that eye twitch. "is this revenge for our first date?" you asked, a look of disbelief in your eyes, mouth trembling with all of the panicked words that threatened to spill out at once. "when my dad bombarded you at the front door?"

beau blinked. "honestly forgot about that."

"bull."

"bull?" he laughed, putting his hands up in a mockery of surrender. "okay. you're right. i didn't magically forget about the time your daddy walked outside to meet me with a rifle—"

you poked him hard in the shoulder. "unloaded."

"—unloaded rifle." beau snatched that hand of yours and kissed each of your knuckles. "but i did not set this all up. my mama's been pesterin' me about bringin' you over, so i thought now was a better time than ever, and—"

"apparently the entire arlen bloodline caught wind."

beau snapped his fingers with his free hand. "bingo." already, he can see the curtain's ruffling with the breeze and movement inside, shadows dancing across the glow of gold through the thin fabric. he was pretty sure that was his uncle howling with laughter, too, so loud he could hear it through the inside of his pickup. "hey, maybe it'll be fun."

you gave him a look that said you did not believe him within an inch of your life.

"we can drink?" he offered next, running down his list of reassurances. they were dwindling.

"all of your alcohol is water." you lurched forward to poke him again, and he caught your finger once again. more reassuring kisses. they were all he had to offer.

beau hmphed. "forgot about that too."

you could sit in his passenger seat and argue until your face turned blue. so he takes the initiative and let go of your fingers, shoving his door open with his shoulder.

he circled around to your side of the pickup, pulling open your door for you, a hand extended for you to take. "c'mon, sweetheart," he murmured, nodding toward his hand for you to take, "y'look too damn pretty to hide away in my truck all night."

you really did, too. a part of beau felt bad for dropping all of this on you so suddenly, but the other part is damn glad that all of his family gets to find out at once about the pretty girl he'd managed to snag.

you stared at him, and beau really expected for you to put up more of a fight. you'd fought him harder over less, like how much butter and salt to put in your popcorn at the movies. but you took his hand with nothing more than a little sigh.

"let's go meet the arlens."

beau's face had never been so red in his life. his family flitted up to the both of you in waves, always with the same routine. congratulations! what a pretty couple you make! marriage? kids? did his mama tell you about the time he played in cow patties thinking it was mud?

he'd never been so glad to have an excuse to drag you away. your family's graduation party wasn't even until tomorrow, but you'd on the spot made up the lie to save you both.

his intentions were pure. they were! he'd planned to sneak you out of the house and take you down into the woods on his family property, to show you the little rushing river deep in the trails, to show you the trees that he'd carved his name into, like you had with your barn.

and then he'd remembered that barn you had.

far enough away from your house to keep the both of you out of sight from your parents, and unofficially deemed as your special place that they never entered without warning.

the story wrote itself. your last act as reckless teenagers before you delved facefirst into adulthood. he'd insisted on being a gentleman, testing the ladder to the loft and making sure it didn't fall. he even held the top steady when you started the climb up. making it back down would be a different story, but you'd get there when you got there.

the stars were so bright from up there, through the open window in the wall. the moon hung high in the sky, the crickets chirping outside, talking to each other through the wind.

you were on his lap before he could even get properly settled on the dilapidated pile of hay, little pieces tickling along his skin as he shifted into it further to let you get comfortable.

he worked your dress's zipper down carefully through the onslaught of kisses. his tongue swiped against your lips, tasting the faint traces of vodka clinging to your mouth. it was definitely watered down, and definitely his fault, but it only made you all that much sweeter to taste.

your fingers trailed down his flannel, working the buttons open with ease as you stumble across them, until the shirt was open and spilling off of him. beau slipped it off of himself, laying it in a beginning pile in the hay next to your jacket.

the kiss broke, and you lifted your head enough for the moonlight to pour in and light your skin aglow. he couldn't look away for a moment, captivated. your teeth held your bottom lip tight between them, looking up at him through the expanse of your eyelashes, and he's gone. he's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

there was no rush to it, no sense of urgency. it was you and the moon to keep him company, and he didn't want to rush through the good things, not when it came to you.

beau slipped one sleeve of your dress off of your shoulder, his fingertips dancing over your collarbone. he followed their kiss with a proper one of his own, mouthing softly at the sensitive skin until he made his way up to your ear.

the words that came out aren't what he expected. he meant to say i love you, to seal it into your skin with his lips, to embed it into your veins and bloodstream. maybe he even would have said it a few times, permanent ink below your ear, on your neck.

instead, beau said, "marry me."

you stumbled on a laugh, your hands flattening on his chest. "what?"

he should have taken it back. "marry me." he didn't. "don't have to be right now. don't have to be next year, or the year after that. but promise you will."

your eyes glimmered in the moonlight. you looked so damn beautiful. he thought proposing would have been all nerves and jitters, that he'd get cold feet at the simple idea of marriage and commitment, but his mind made the decision for him, and he already knew that you were different. nothing felt hard or scary with you.

"beau," you said his name like a breath, "you're kiddin' me."

he shook his head, and now he was laughing, giddy and bright. his arms encircled your waist, tugging you closer to him in his lap. "say yes."

"no." but you were grinning from ear to ear. "you're crazy, arlen."

"say yes," he whispered again, nuzzling his nose against yours as he steals a kiss. "don't you wanna be a crazy arlen along with me?"

you extended the kiss, prolonging it, your palms going up to his face to hold him that close a little while longer, until you're panting breathlessly on his lips. "yes."

beau eyes popped open. he grabbed your hips with his big hands and flips the both of you so that your back was pressed into the hay. "say it again."

"yes," you nearly squealed with laughter, and he wanted to bottle the sound, he wanted to swallow it whole and never forget how happy you were right here, now, beneath him, "i'll marry you, beau arlen."

your happiness was a virus he was destined to catch; tugging a grin onto his already gleeful expression. "welcome to the arlens," he breathed as he leaned forward and stole another kiss, and another. "now we got somethin' to celebrate on our own."

daisy sits at the kitchen table, legs swinging and kicking straight out in front of her. she has a plate full of peeled apple slices and colby jack cheese cubes in front of her, mindlessly babbling as she pops them into her mouth.

she is oblivious to the tension between you and beau at this table. beau, sat at one end of the table; you, propped up against the other, hipbone digging into the sanded wooden edge.

"when did this happen?" beau asks, and there's some sort of accusation in his tone, but you aren't sure if you really hear it or are just at a predisposition to think negatively about every word from his mouth.

you both stare at each other for a while. certainly he doesn't think that you'd broken your vows when he skipped town. certainly he didn't look at your daughter and not see the arlen green eyes in her.

you glance down at the table, disbelief still clouding in a haze in your eyes. "when do you think?"

when your eyes dance back up to his, his smile is tight-lipped and force. "she's six." it's not a question, or something requiring confirmation. he knew. knew, and just didn't believe what was in front of him, almost like you couldn't, either.

"i am!" daisy pipes in through a mouthful of mashed apples. she offers beau her brightest, toothiest smile. she even had the same dimples as him.

beau spares her a glance, then, like he couldn't any longer ignore the pull toward her. hair in low pigtails over her shoulders, already coming loose around the ponytail holders, shorter strands poking awry from underneath the too big cowboy hat she wore too.

it's tense. you're sure he's going to blow up. beau wasn't really the type to lose his cool, but the beau you thought you knew wasn't this man, either. this man was aged six years, and just as capable of leaving you as much as he promised not to.

daisy holds out an apple for him, kicking beneath the table so wildly that the dining chair's legs screech against the hardwood floor.

he takes it, the tightness of his smile never loosening.

there's something he wants to say. beau always got this twitch on the corner of his lip when he was keeping something back, locked tight away behind a carefully placed mask of coolness. you saw that expression a lot - in high school, when rhett started to get clingy, or brooks got mouthy, or at his family's graduation party, when he was reaching his limit with the endless interrogations. each time, you'd slide in and swoop him away before he popped off with something he didn't mean.

there was no saving him this time, because he'd already lost himself.

you glance out toward the open fields in your backyard. a little playground sits in the dead center of the grassy plains, like it popped out of the earth itself. the chains of the swing ding against the metal poles as the wind blows them wild, bringing inside the scent of daisies and sunflowers.

"coffee?" you ask, because when have you ever been able to help yourself when it came to beau arlen? he'd had you hooked and lined from the beginning. it was just a part of you, by now, that need to calm the storm that brewed behind his eyes.

beau glances over toward the machine by the fridge. "machine's broken."

your turn to smile tersely. "was broken. six years ago."

his parents bought you a new one, after daisy was born. the least they could do, they said, considering their son was across the country living a dream that he promised he wouldn't let get in between you two, while you were at home alone raising his little girl.

there is just as much that you want to say as he does. so much anger and cruelty you want to spew at him, just to hurt him like he'd hurt you.

instead, you turn to the coffee machine to start a pot. it can wait. all of the fighting can wait until daisy isn't here. she was already wrapped up too much in the both of your mess, and she didn't deserve to become a weaponized pawn.

the screen door slams into the wall behind it, just hard enough for you to know exactly who it was without turning around. great.

"where's my pretty li'l berry princess?" abigail calls from the doorway, and from the little whiny fusses, you know that del is right behind her. the guys were probably on diaper bag duty, using that as an excuse to linger in the driveway and smoke.

beau inhales sharply. at least he's aware of how much his leaving and returning would stir things. and now he could fester in his guilt a little more, knowing that his friends and yours rallied behind you.

daisy's out of the chair before you even turn around to greet any of them. her excited squeal and sprint have the cowboy hat falling to the ground again.

the porch steps creak under the weight of the guys' heavy steps, and rhett's cough is a telling sign enough of the cigarette he shared with brooks if the smell wasn't. "delly insisted we bring you some of this cherry pie she made last night—"

"it came out so pretty," del interjects, the closest one to the kitchen doorway now that abigail had gotten hung up with your daughter. "i had to!"

"it's real good, girlie," rhett sighs, a soft thud creaking the floorboards as he drops the diaper bag down, "so damn good, i left it in the car so we can just take it right on back home—"

"rhett gaylestone!"

del peeks her head into the kitchen with a sweet smile. there's a baby carrier across her chest, a tiny head peeking out of it beneath her chin. she doesn't even glance in beau's direction; why would she? no one ever expected beau arlen to show his face back in montana.

"sorry about him," she says, wiping her palms on the skirt of her dress, "you know how the montana boys are. unreliable as sin—"

you watch it unfold. the moment that beau straightens his back, and the movement draws del's attention. she visibly startles, her mouth hung open.

it's a trainwreck. neither of them speak, but the tense smile had yet to leave beau's mouth since the realization of daisy clicked in his head.

"what the hell was all that?" rhett asks with a laugh, coming up behind his wife to prop in the doorway behind her, one hand coming around her to rest his hand on her stomach, just beneath the baby carrier. "about us montana boys being unrelia..." of course rhett would know to look where beau was sitting. they used to sit at the kitchen table, on that exact end beau was at, gambling away pocket money in games of poker, straw hanging out of their mouths. "unreliable."

beau clears his throat. "hey, rhett."

rhett scoffs out a sort of laugh, sounding more discomforted than anything. "brooks owes me twenty bucks."

brooks laughs from the other room. still as oblivious as abigail and your daughter to the fact that her daddy was home now, and what that meant. "no fuckin' way," an audible slap from abigail, and a groan to follow, "sorry, kiddos. no flippin' way. don't flip with me this time, i ain't fallin' for it this time. you can't convince me for nothin' that beau arlen's at that table—"

beau sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. he looks ready to bolt, and you're sure, from previous times, that he will.

"you should stop bettin' against me, williamson." his voice is raspier than it typically is. maybe you'd feel more bad for beau if he didn't do this to himself.

you shake your head. you'd kept silent, and calm, and collected for the last two hours of him being in your space, sharing snacks with you guys' daughter. "no, beau," you say, meeting his gaze when he finally turns it toward you, "i don't think he should."

the river cut through the forest, the sound of rushing water echoing around you. little splashes of waves spilled over the edge of it, sloshing against the damp muddy grass lining it. a little farther up the hill leading down to it, you're perched on a red and white plaid picnic blanket.

there was a book in your hands, held open with your left hand, the wedding ring on your finger glittering under the sunlight. these early days of your marriage were the easiest by far. it felt so natural, being in beau's space, your lives woven together like crochet.

beau was in the river, trying to catch frogs. you didn't remember what even led him to want to, just that you were adamant that you weren't joining him. sunshine was tied to a tree a few feet from you, chewing on patches of grass and whinnying.

"baby, you ain't gonna believe this," beau called from the river, the water splashing as he trudges out of its shallow depths.

you glanced up, and then immediately back down. "i don't wanna see whatever frog you've got captive."

beau laughed, something held in his one hand, the other coming up to run through his wet locks of hair clinging to his forehead. "i gave up on the damn frogs," he grumbled, each footstep squelching beneath him, "ain't no fun when you're a grown adult and not an eight year old. damn things are too quick."

you set your book aside, tucking it back safely in the picnic basket. you snatched a strawberry from the wicker, biting off the sweet end off it. "so what on earth are you about to drop in my lap?"

he flung his arm out at you, throwing stray water droplets across you. you knew he would; that's why you protected your book, after all. you were well adapted to the antics of your husband, by now.

"guess."

"i already guessed a frog." you sat up a little straighter, cringing at the dirty water droplets in your dress. "i lost. now you gotta just tell me."

beau dropped down in front of you, legs crossed, water pouring down his bare torso and onto the corner of the blanket he sat on. he opened up his fingers to reveal what was in his hand.

you blinked a couple of times. "a... rock?"

he groaned. "baby. i love you so much." he leaned forward to snatch your hand, yanking you a little closer to him. "so much, you know that. my beautiful, beautiful girl. you gotta open up that mind a little."

you huffed as you ended up kneeling in front of him, your knees sinking into the wet cloth beneath you. you snatched the rock out of his palm, and just faintly on the rock's smooth surface, in faded white paint, was rodeo champion, beau arlen.

"bingo," he snapped his fingers, leaning up a little to duck his head and see your expression. "told you, remember? when we met? used t'carve my name into tree trunks. used to leave it everywhere."

you tilted your head curiously at it, a small smile curving your lips upward. "i thought you were pretendin' to be arlenville sheriff, not rodeo champion beau arlen."

"when the life of justice got borin', i switched it up." he took the rock back from you, something wistful in his expression as he reads the words over himself. "s'what i wanted the most, y'know."

you did know, somehow. beau wore his dreams and his heart so proudly on his sleeve. you'd lived with him long enough to know that, after work, he'd settle onto the couch, kick his legs up, and turn on reruns of the rodeo championships. he could predict who would win, which bulls were more troublesome than the others, and when a cowboy made a bad call on a dime.

beau glanced up to meet your eyes, that same wistful smile on his lips. "what were your dreams like?" he asked, setting the rock down next to him on the picnic blanket. "not the strawberry princess ones, or the silly ones. what did my little sweetheart see herself growin' up into?"

you hummed a little to yourself, shifting a little so that you could splay your legs over his lap. forget not wanting to get dirty or wet. "a nurse, once," you said, scrunching up your face at the memory, "i used to insist on havin' every baby doll in the market, because i wanted to take care of them. make sure they were alright, y'know?"

beau nods, his arm slipping around your back to cradle you properly against his side. "you would look good in the scrubs," he teased, but you knew, like you always did, that it was never with bad intent.

"mmm, maybe," you agreed idly, "but i didn't want to go through all that school. i wanted to just... just launch into somethin'. and so i shifted gears completely. no more baby dolls, but flowers. made up my own little garden patch just outside that old barn down at my folks' place."

beau's fingers traced lines and shapes down the curve of your spine. "that when the strawberry and the peach princesses come into play?"

you slapped him lightly on the arm, chuckling a little to yourself. "stop it. but yes. del and i planted everything we could to see if it would grow, and call it our princess magic if it did."

"a damn flower girl," beau murmured into your neck, planting little kisses on the skin. "it suits you. what changed?"

"nothing changed," you said, tipping your head to press your temple to his. "i still dream about flowers. havin' a big garden in the backyard, havin' a shop downtown."

beau scooped you up, settling you comfortably in his lap, straddling his waist and the wet denim clinging to his legs. "well, what the hell is stoppin' us now, from gettin' you that flower shop of yours downtown?"

there were those eyes again, the ones you always knew meant bad news, back when you were younger and still dancing on the cusp of being in love and running before he could fully swoop in and steal your heart.

your lips curled, teeth worrying at the bottom one. "maybe nothing. maybe everything."

"no. nothin' is." beau leaned in to capture your lips in his, pulling the bottom one loose from your teeth with his own. "we'll get my baby a flower shop. we'll get you a garden in this backyard. hell, we'll fill all the fields with sunflowers and daisies."

your head fell backward in a laugh. "stop it!" but it's half-hearted, because beau always knew how to lasso you into all of his crazy dreams, and he was already beginning to sell you on it without needing to do much convincing at all.

"we'll name all our kids after flowers," he mumbled against your jawline, kissing upwards until he met the corner of your mouth. "daisy. rose. violet. lily."

"what about the boys?"

beau paused, taking a breath before he stole a proper kiss from your lips. "we jus' won't have boys."

you're silent for a long while. beau always made the impossible and the unachievable seem so pretty and within reach. you lifted your hand to touch his cheekbone, swiping gently across the smooth, sunkissed skin, before you let it fall to the ground next to the both of you, grabbing the little rock he'd placed down.

rodeo champion, beau arlen.

"but then who will continue on with your bull ridin' legacy?"

beau's gaze is unbelievably soft when he meets your eyes. his fingers close around yours, bringing them to his lips to place a gentle kiss to each knuckle. "you're worth more than every dream, sweetheart." again, he kisses each knuckle, one by one, lingering on them this time. "i think a flower girl and a cowboy make a mighty fine pairin'."

you'd let beau tuck in daisy. daisy. his baby girl's name was daisy. she looked just like you, all except for the fire in those pretty green eyes she'd inherited from him. she was tiny, and a little spitfire, and it ached so desperately that he didn't get to watch what shaped this little girl. that, in a way, his absence did more for her than his reappearance had.

her room was a scattered mess of baby dolls and plushie horses. on her small dresser, beau had plucked that old hat of his off of her head and popped it there before he'd scooped her up and tucked her into the baby blue blankets on her bed.

"are you staying?" she asks him quietly, her voice a little slurry and sleep addled, tiny fingers curled into the hem of her blanket, holding it up to her chin.

beau brushes those stray, wild hairs off of your forehead, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her temple. "of course i'm stayin'. and miss out on my future rodeo champion growin' up? no way."

daisy's giggles spread a warmth through his veins that he hadn't felt in this house in far too many years. for the first time since he came back, he felt welcomed, though he knew that it was only because she didn't know, not really, who he was. "mommy told me about you."

"what did mommy say?"

under her little elbow was a little white horse plush, near identical to sunshine. his smile is hesitant, but there, as he drops his hand down to pat its head, and then hers.

"mommy said you were a dreamer," daisy says wistfully, her eyes fluttering as she forced them open, "that you chased things and chased things, no matter what it meant. she said you rode off into the sunset."

beau frowns when her eyes fall shut and stay shut, the rise and fall of her little breaths deepening and slowing. there was a time when people said that about him and meant it in a good way. there was a time when his name was spoken with reverence and awe.

that was before he'd moved up from local rodeos to the big time, where he proceeded to take all of his dreams besides that single, blinding one and dump them away.

one more time, he leans down to kiss the top of daisy's forehead, before he pushes off of the edge of her bed and flicks the light off as he leaves. he pulls the door shut behind him, leaving it gapped so that the golden light in the hallway filtered through. he didn't know if she was scared of the dark. beau didn't know much of anything about his daughter.

he did know, though, that someway, he had to make this right with you. you, who was sitting on the couch in the living room, filtering through channels on the tv screen. you glance up at beau when his steps creak on the old floors, before you quickly glance away.

"i'll put on the rodeo for you."

beau grimaces. like hell he'd want to see what the newer, spunkier cowboys were doing after he'd hung up the hat. like hell he'd want to watch it anyways, not right now, not after those showings were part of the reason his head got too big and he stopped thinking rationally.

"put on the simpsons or somethin'," he waves a hand idly in the tv's direction, "not that shit."

"whatever you want, arlen." you press the remote into the arm of the couch, your smile forced and sickly sweet at once. "you'll be the one down here watchin' it."

beau sidesteps as you pass, his face screwing up in irritation he didn't deserve to feel and confusion. "we're not even gonna talk? you're just gonna go to bed?"

"yes, beau," you toss back at him, spinning on your heel to face him. there it is, he wants to think. the anger he'd expected and didn't get, not once, until the sun fell and the guests cleared and their daughter drifted off. "yes. i'm gonna go to bed. because in the morning, i have to drop daisy off at kindergarten. i have to go to the shop and work. not all of us have the luxury of hangin' up a hat and callin' it done."

beau's lips thin. he nods a couple of times, his arms crossing firmly over his chest. "go on, sweetheart. keep 'em comin'. what else have you been stewin' on while i was gone?"

"you're a coward," slips out of your mouth as easily as i love you once did. "you abandoned everything at the first sight of freedom from this town. you didn't even think twice."

beau shakes his head, now, and doesn't stop. "you think i was free out there?" he takes a step closer to you, towering over you. you don't shrink. not even a little. "you think i felt free any of the days i wasn't in the ring? that i didn't feel suffocated by the weight of your hurt, back here?"

"you don't know a thing about hurt, beau. not if it hit you in the face."

"so hit me in the face. show me how it felt."

your palm cracks across his cheek, his jaw slackening with the force of it, skin reddening beneath the pale brown of facial hair. "there it is," he says out loud this time, a hand coming up to rub at the stinging scruff, "my pretty girl's fire."

"i am not," you shove his chest back, pushing his spine into the back of the couch, "your pretty girl."

beau throws his arms up and glances around. "and why the hell not? you got another man around here i don't know about? hidin' under our bed?"

your eyes flare. he's lashing out. he knows that all he's doing is finding all of your wounds and prodding at them until they rebruise, but he can't seem to stop. "so it's true, then."

"what's true, honey?" his eyebrows bounce, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "you'll have to talk to me if you wanna get pissy with me."

the eye twitch. beau missed everything about you while he was gone, but goddamn, that eye twitch. there was a twisted sort of comfort in the fact that only he could ever bring it out of you.

"you fucked kelsey."

"hey, watch the language, alright?" he tsks. "baby girl's upstairs tryna sleep n' all that."

"you fucked kelsey jones from tv, and now you're projectin', tryin' to make up some random man that i cheated on you with—"

beau's expression sharpens. "never once did i cheat on you." something has gone awry, and his control in this battle of words and anger has slipped. somewhere in your anger and your hurt and his guilt and shame, something got validated that shouldn't have been. "you think i cheated on you?"

"don't even lie to me, beau arlen, i'll go grab a goddamn butcher's knife, and—"

"i. never. cheated. on. you." his voice comes out firmer, and more harsh, than he intends. you fall silent. the echoing buzz of it in his ears is louder than any of your fight, so far. "never once was tempted."

your mouth trembles with, he hopes, anger and not tears. if you started to cry, he'd crumble. every bit of his resolve would crash down. "she wanted to fuck you."

"hell, a lot of people wanted to fuck me," he laughs, tries desperately to dampen the fire, but it only seems to stoke it a little higher. "kelsey jones only saw the big belt buckle. if terry gold had won, she'd have been all over him, too."

you don't even move. beau would have thought time was frozen in place if the simpsons wasn't quietly playing behind him on the tv.

"and 'i didn't think twice' about leaving?" he continues when you still don't say a thing. "sweetheart, i thought about you every damn day. no win was a win without you there, seein' your grinnin' face on the sidelines. i kept chasin' and chasin' because i thought i'd feel good if i won enough, or if i won the right championship, but by the time i realized that it never felt like a win because you weren't there, six years had passed."

not an excuse. beau knows he has no excuse at all for not just immediately turning to go back home, so he wasn't even going to bother trying to make one.

"i was going to tell you when you came home," you say, and the familiarity of your quiet voice is like a knife. "i knew you'd win. i told you that day that all of our dreams were coming true."

beau winces. "i know."

"and then you never came home." the knife plants itself in his heart and twists. the anger rises like a flush over your heated face. "you just kept movin' around, and i was left in your house, with all these little reminders of you, and an even littler one inside of me, and you were gone."

what can he do besides take it? he did make that choice. he made it over, and over, because he was a coward, and didn't want to face this exact conversation.

he thinks you might slap him again. but all you do is walk closer, like you really want him to feel the force of the consequences, until you're close enough for him to breathe in that perfume of yours.

"i can't even say i hate you," you manage, even though the words are stifled and choked on, a physical lump in your throat, "even though i want to."

beau's hands raise to cup your face between them, tilting your head up to properly look in your eyes. his always shimmered with wildness, something uncontained and dangerous; yours shimmered now with tears and everything broken between the two of you.

he doesn't mean to kiss you. he leaned down to whisper his apologies into your breath so that hopefully you'd breathe them in and know he meant them. but beau was not very good at doing the right thing, or the thing he intended to do.

you're tense when your lips meet. you taste like cherry chapstick, or maybe it was the two bites of delilah's cherry pie you'd had. he almost pulls away, has the apology lined up on his lips along with all of the others, but then you grab his face and force him closer.

your grip is harsh. nails bite into beau's skin as he follows your lead, his hands sliding under your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, helping you to wrap them tightly around his waist. there's a lot of blind stumbling, but he makes it down the hall to your room.

your room, his room, both — what did it matter anymore?

it's even more haphazard as he collapses down on the edge of it, more focused on keeping you planted in his lap than he is on where he's landing. the room is still decorated the same, in the little glimpses he catches between breaths. the pictures in the frames on the dresser, the calendar still months behind, though he wonders if it's now months and years behind.

beau's heart aches, tight and taut behind his ribs, so he kisses you harder. his fingers find the zipper of your dress and start to trail it down, going back up to unclasp your bra in that same swoop.

your hands are on his chest, ripping at the flaps of his flannel, popping the buttons open, some of them flying loose. you look so beautiful in your anger, all bright eyed and flushed. beau lets you peel his shirt off of him, tossing it aside in the room. he lets you run your soft fingertips down his chest until they reach his jeans.

"stupid ass belt buckle," you grumble under your breath, looking up at him through your eyelashes, almost as if you were teasing him rather than trying to hurt him.

but the words hit their mark. yeah, the buckles were stupid, in the long run. he threw away the first six years of his daughter's life and six years with you for this stupid ass belt buckle. he'd wore it home as if it was some sort of flex that this is what his life boiled down to, on his own choices.

"let me make this right," beau murmurs down the column of your throat, sucking little marks into the skin, tasting the bruising skin with his tongue. "i'll make it right."

the belt buckle unclasps, and you're yanking it off of him wordlessly, though he can hear the little pants of breath falling out of your mouth. "can't," you manage to say, tugging open his jeans and trying to pull them off under your own weight.

"can't i try?" beau tugs the sleeve down your shoulder, helps you slip your arm loose from it.

you nudge his face up with your nose and steal a punishing kiss, teeth colliding and pinching the skin of his inner lip between them. "i'd rather you just shut up."

you'd hate him for this in the morning. hell, you'll probably hate him for all of this the moment that your orgasm subsided. he'd take these little moments of tension-ridden peace while he could.

the dress pools down on his waist, hung up by the fact that you were still in his lap, just like his jeans were. beau raises your arms to work the straps of your bra off, tossing it away as aimlessly as you'd thrown his shirt.

he goes back to your throat, trailing kisses downwards now, between the valley of your breasts and everywhere in between.

beau hooks his fingers into your panties with his lips sucking little marks on the tops of your breasts, tugging on the hem. "gotta get up for a sec, baby," he mumbles, kissing the sensitive marks he'd left, "got us at a standstill."

you raise up on your knees, kicking the dress away from you. the look you give him is some variation of malice, but he can look past the lingering hurt and see it for what it was. passion laced in with your anger, turning into something beautiful and violent, lashing against your veins and threatening to get out.

beau kicks his jeans off, his boxers following suit moments afterwards. he grabs you by the waist to get you to step between his legs, tugging your panties down your legs once you were close enough.

the lack of clothes seems to revitalize that rage warring inside of you. you go from complacent and warm against him to looking completely furious that this is happening at all. beau again expects another slap, but it doesn't come this time, either. instead, your hand shoves him back down onto the mattress.

"i want to hate you so bad," you say to him, a wobble to your voice that is more than enough proof that you meant it.

he reaches down for your hand, tugging you on top of him. "show me how bad," he whispers against your mouth, before he teases at your lip with his teeth.

you interlock your fingers with his, and for a second, it feels like it used to, back when you were both twenty and everything was fun and easy. it feels like the cool wind of nostalgia and the warmth of love. you lift the conjoined hands to rest against his chest as you shift from straddling his waist to settling into his lap, sinking down onto him in one slow motion.

beau watches every second. watches as your lips part as he stretches you open, your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones. you still fit so perfectly around him, even if it hurt to admit that. how could he have thought for even a second that there was a dream better than the one he had in his lap?

your eyes lock onto his, and somehow, it's more intimate than your first time together was. more intimate than the entirety of your honeymoon. every emotion flashes across your face at once, and he reaches up to thumb across your cheekbone to wipe away the stray eyelash, though all that was, was just an excuse to touch you.

his other hand finds your hip, reluctantly having let go of your fingers, helping to guide your movements on him, even if you didn't need it. you knew what you were doing, knew what you wanted.

"i'm sorry," beau finally breathes out, the words more of a grunt than anything else. he opens his mouth to say more but you slap your hand over his lips, and it's all he can do not to laugh.

you grind down into his pelvis a little harder this time, smearing slow circles where you're connected, your lips open in wordless pants. "i told you to shut up."

"can't." he groans this time, his hips bucking up into you, the tip of his cock brushing along your cervix. he starts, and can't seem to stop it, as he meets your movements and buries himself into your tight walls. "got too many — too many things to apologize for."

even with glassy, dazed eyes, you manage a glare at him. it's probably the sexiest thing beau's ever seen. "you didn't answer my calls."

"felt like a dumbfuck," his voice is muffled against your palm, and your grip tightens over his mouth like a silent urge to shut the hell up, but he's never been one for listening, "sorry. dumbflip. thought it'd make it worse — when i didn't have an explanation."

you're not usually as domineering as this. you weren't exactly submissive to him, but you'd never held the control you had over him in positions like this and used it against him. because one moment you had a quick, steady pace as you rode him, and now you were agonizingly slow, your jaw ticking.

"you should have answered." beau wasn't listening. he could feel each time you stretched around him and could tell by the way your thighs tightened around his when he'd hit that spot deep enough inside of you to make you squirm. your hand squishes his face between your fingers to draw beau's attention again. "should have answered. should have checked in."

"i'm sorry." what was he even apologizing for again? all beau could think about was how his head was tipped back to meet the stern look in your eyes, and how pretty your mouth looked when it was pursed in that little pout. god, he was going to fucking bust like a teenager. "won't do it again."

"that's a terrible apology."

"sorry." all he can say is sorry. he'd been reduced to a mess of a man beneath you, and when he seemed to be reaching the point of desperation that you wanted him at, you finally stopped fighting against his grip's guidance and quickened your pace again. "really sorry, baby."

you move your hand away from his mouth, replacing it with a kiss that was almost loving, slow and languid. "you've got six years to make up for in one night. good luck."

yeah. good luck, alright. he didn't think he'd make it to the morning alive.

the adrenaline and the thrill that came from being in the bullring was an intoxication of its own, but beau found that it was nothing at all compared to the look on your face when he found you in the stands.

he'd pull you half over the gate and kiss the daylights out of you, until your lips were swollen pink and his ached with the loss of it. he'd stand on the podium with the local montana championship buckle on his belt, and it wouldn't even settle in that he'd won at all until you were dragging him back to his truck in the parking lot.

the people around town started saying his name differently now. he was outgrowing the reputation that he, rhett, and brooks had left as a heathen montana boy and was becoming his own name. a renowned name. one that, he could tell, you were proud to have attached next to yours.

"did you see?" you asked him one day at breakfast, sliding the newspaper across the table to him. "the next rodeo's gonna have scouts for the big leagues."

you were always his biggest fan. you told him to pursue this dream of his, ensured him that it was just as important as yours were to him, and so it only made sense that he take this next step for you. that he outshine every other guy in the county and take it big, down to dallas, texas.

and so he did. beau sustained a minor ankle sprain and a dislocated arm, but by god, did he ride hard, setting a local record and capturing the eye of that scout.

dallas has been waiting for a guy like you to come out, the scout told him. and beau saw gold; bright, shining, blinding gold.

"come with me," beau said the night before he had to leave, throwing handfuls of clothes and necessities into a duffel bag. he dreamt big, but he didn't plan big, and when given a week before the championship, he'd waited until two days before it to start and finish his packing.

you're taking the hangers that he tosses onto the bed, hanging them back up in the closet. "can't. i've got a shop to run and a horse to keep happy."

"sunshine'll live without her favorite girl for a few days."

"okay. scratch that." you snatched his stetson off of the dresser and put it delicately on your head. "someone's gotta hold it down here in arlenville."

beau laughed heartily, shaking his head in pure, unbridled amusement. "and you've taken up the mantle?"

"a sheriff's gotta do what a sheriff's gotta do."

he wanted to keep pushing, but he knew that you were stubborn — and right. you had a shop here to run, had a garden to maintain, and someone did have to watch over sunshine. as much as he wanted you there alongside him, he understood where you were coming from.

"i'm gonna bring it home, baby," he said when he rises to his feet, zipped up duffel sitting on the end of the bed. he tugged you into his arms, dipping down to kiss you once, twice. "gonna get the gold."

"i know," you nuzzled up into him, noses brushing together, "my cowboy can do anything."

beau ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "i should teach you how to ride," he murmurs, leaving little kisses down your cheek, just below your ear. "give her a li'l lesson on cowgirlin' up before i head out."

you laughed as he scooped you up in one arm, his other hand adjusting the hat properly on your head.

beau had put the hat back on you, too, that next day, when he was about to head out on the road. "keep it nice n' warm for me."

"don't you want it for good luck?"

beau's eyes ran all over you, his expression melting at the sight of you. "no. don't need it. i'll be back after this competition, baby," he promises, brushing a knuckle over your cheekbone, "and i've got all the good luck i need right here."

he brings his ring finger up to his lips, kissing the wedding band he wore. your eyes were a little glossy, but you still looked beautiful. a little nervous, maybe, but so was he.

beau takes a hold of your face between his bigger palms and drags you down to press his lips to your forehead, lingering there for awhile.

"i've got to tell you something," you breathed onto his lips, glancing between the both of his eyes. "but i'm gonna wait until you're home again. gotta keep your head on straight, don't you?"

beau laughed, taking your hand to kiss your wedding ring, too. "my head's always a little screwy around you."

"i'm serious," you laughed, too, and there those tears were again. he wished he could take them away, if only so you didn't look so devastated about these few days apart. "all of our dreams are coming true, beau."

he nodded, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose once more. "they are," he agreed, brushing your hair out of your eyes, "and we've got so many more to make."

letting go of you was the hardest decision he'd ever made. if beau didn't, then, he wouldn't have. he'd have stayed there in your arms and wiped away all of those tears as they fell. but some dreams were infinite and some had a time limit, and he wasn't capable of letting this one slip through his fingers.

"i love you!" you called from the porch, waving at him through the windshield of his truck as he turned the engine.

beau hopped up to sit in the open window of the driver's seat, head peeking out over the roof of the truck. "i love you more, baby."

you open your mouth like you were going to argue, but you must have known that again, it would have kept him there for hours, going back and forth until one of you caved and you wound back up in bed.

he gives you a little wave this time, as he shifts to settle back into the driver's seat. beau starts to back out of the dirt driveway, alternating between your shrinking form on the porch, waving at him, and looking out the rearview mirror.

leaving one dream for another. it made him feel a little sick, knowing that he was leaving you here and not having you next to him, but at least it wasn't forever. at least it was just a few days that he'd be gone, and then he'd get to see you again.

just a few days.

the sun crested over the hill that the arlen farmhouse was planted upon, spilling bright gold through the glass and onto the sheets that you'd gotten tangled up in. last night was a blur of sweat and sex and too many apologies to count. at some point, you'd deemed beau forgiven enough to get some sleep, even though you felt a little nauseous over the thought of beau in the bed next to you.

too familiar, and yet not enough so.

at least beau seemed to get it, in a way. it may have taken a fight and a few mean words to get through to his skull that this wasn't something that could be solved in one night. he'd missed the birth of his little girl. he'd missed her first steps, first words, and her first lost tooth. missed her first day of kindergarten.

you felt as angry at him for it as you felt guilty. you did try to tell him, but beau didn't pick up the phone, and there was never a solid address to send letters to. you'd tried, but it still wasn't his fault that you found out about the pregnancy the day that he left. it was just his fault that he chose to not come back.

beau shifts a little in his sleep, his arm tossed over your waist and tucking you closer into his chest. he still smells a little like sex, but underneath it all is that cologne of his that you'd missed so desperately.

"g'mornin', sweetheart," beau rasps into your hair, pressing a kiss into the mop of it, just behind your ear. his voice is like gravel and sin. you'd both changed a lot in these last missed years, but fundamentally, he was still beau, and you were still yourself.

you see those traces of him in his smile when you tilt your head up to meet his sleepy eyes. the alarm clock on his side of the bed read 5:43. you'd have to start rallying daisy for breakfast, soon, so she had enough time to play and watch cartoons before school, like she always did.

just because your life routine changed didn't mean that hers had to.

beau brushes the hair away from your forehead. "what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

"nothing." too quick to reign true. what was the point of trying to lie, anyways? you'd already slept with him. the anger was already dealt with, leaving nothing but a dull sort of ache in its place. "just... thinking how i have to wake daisy up, soon."

and that you felt a little guilty for everything. guilty for the fight. guilty for kissing him. guilty for pulling him back into your bed like he hadn't walked out on you. guilty for hearing his apologies and still not knowing whether it was safe to forgive him.

his smile doesn't fade, not even for a second. there's still the underlying fear that he was going to leave again, but at least there was the reassurance that he was still beau arlen, sweet as a man could be when he wasn't so caught up on the what ifs.

"let me."

your eyebrows furrow. you open your mouth to insist otherwise, but he steals a kiss before you can. his lips dance with yours slowly, savoring the taste and the familiarity of the motion. "i'm serious, baby. let me."

beau shifts again behind you, this time to ease you onto your other side to face him better. words don't come to the surface now that you need them to.

"what was her first word?"

"baba." you smile a little, thinking back to little daisy in your arms, her tiny fingers grasping impatiently for the bottle in your fingers. "she was hungry."

he smiles, too, a shadow replica of yours. just as hesitant, sad; the same feeling of loss over what could have been a shared memory. "first steps?"

"she ran." you lean your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a second, remembering those days when she was littler but just as rambunctious, barreling into everything without a care of the scrapes and the bruises. "i was walkin' with her, holdin' her up on my feet, and she just... took off."

"sounds like you," beau teases, kissing the tip of your nose.

you snort, opening your eyes again. "no. it sounds like you."

beau's little smile fades. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across it. "i'm sorry," he whispers, sincerity oozing out of the words so thick that you could almost taste their bittersweet honey, "i should have been here. hell, i should have long already been here."

"you should have answered the phone, too."

he nods. "should have done a lot of things differently."

it's not that you didn't forgive him, or that you were entirely angry with him. those feelings still existed, but at least he was here now, and at least he knew he messed up. you couldn't exactly make a proper judgement call on if he'd changed and learned from those mistakes, now; not until he proved that he meant these pretty promises he was making.

"daisy..." beau mumbles to himself, a little huff of a laugh falling from his lips, now. "i can't wait to get to know her."

"she's just like you," you say, desperately hoping that he ignores the voice crack in your words. "full of dreams and energy and wonder. she's great, beau. she's really great."

the pad of beau's thumb swipes underneath your eye, tracing the lift of your cheekbone. "we gotta get the hell up," he says around a yawn, a dimple poking through his muss of facial hair as he gives you a little grin, "we've got a little girl to drop off at school."

TWO YEARS LATER —

daisy is seven, almost eight. she calls beau dad with ease, even though she had from the moment that she met him. she brings home report cards with straight a's and b's and notes from the teacher about being a little bit mouthy, a little bit wild, but otherwise a wonder to have in class.

beau has her in front of him on the swingset, pushing her even though she insists she can do it herself. he knows she can, but he has a lot of parenting to make up for, and he was so damn glad to.

inside the house, he could hear the chattering of his friends and yours, cleaning up the remnants of a get-together dinner. ella gaylestone is just as crazy as rhett was, and so she was leashed to his belt loop to keep from running and tearing things up, even though beau knew that she just wanted to come out here and play, too.

he was picking up these things, these natural instincts that came with being a parent. rhett and delilah probably knew that their little girl wanted to play, but they also knew that sometimes, like now, daisy just wanted some time with beau.

he'd never deny his baby girl these moments, either.

abigail was pregnant with her and brooks's first. a boy; the first boy to get granted heir to the montana boys legacy, they'd said, though the girls were already proving themselves to be just as worthy too. daisy was so clever, and ella was crazy; they would pick up where beau, rhett, and brooks left off just fine.

"daddy, you never told me about the bull ridin'," daisy says suddenly, craning her head back over her shoulder to look at him. her green eyes were so pale and bright in the setting sun. "i thought you'd have so many stories."

she loved sunshine as much as beau had once loved moonlight. you and beau had signed her up for horse riding lessons that she didn't need, not when she was already a natural. she was his kid, through and through.

"what do you want to know?"

she hums, tapping her fingers along the chains she holds onto. "was it scary?"

"very scary."

"why did you do it then?"

beau wasn't very good with the why questions that came with parenting, though, but was any parent? he mimics her humming noise, just to make her laugh. "sometimes the scary things are the best things."

it was as good of an answer as he could give. that was something she'd learn with time, just like he'd learned how to slip into the role of father. something innate that clicked into place when the time was right.

it'd been terrifying to leave you, that day. it'd been terrifying to come back. it'd been terrifying falling in love with you, and even more so when he fell deeper in love. it'd been horrifying to meet his daughter at six years old. all of those things were things that he did not regret.

he glances out toward the open fields of land behind the arlen family home. daisies and sunflowers and, now lining the fence of their yard, roses. the wind blew and with it came the sweet smell of flower petals and pollen.

the back porch door swings open, and out toddles a wobbly stepped little girl, heading straight for the playground. rhett looks a bit sheepish in the doorway, tossing his hands up in exasperation. "she's got a mind of her own."

"that's alright," beau reassures, slowly pulling daisy's swing to a stop, even with her protests. "you gonna be okay hangin' out with uncle rhett and little ella?"

"do i get to stay up late tonight?" already bargaining with him. daisy arlen was definitely his little girl. you'd been right about her being just like him.

beau sighs dramatically. "i guess so. only tonight, though. you've got school again in a couple days."

daisy picks up ella and puts her on her hip, and it nearly makes beau's knees buckle. he doesn't want her to grow up just as much as he does want her to. it's so bittersweet, watching kids become adults, seeing how quickly it all happens. he used to carry daisy on his hip like that.

he turns to head back inside, waving away rhett's offer of a cigarette as he does. brooks seems to smell the cigarette through the florally scents in the wind and passes beau on his way in.

"they're havin' girl talk," brooks warns, snatching rhett's cigarette from between his lips, "good luck in there."

beau snorts. what did beau need luck for when he's already gotten lucky enough to have earned your forgiveness and your trust again?

still, he lingers a little longer in the kitchen, listening in for a good time to dip in and see you again. no amount of time anymore was enough time with you, in his mind.

"do you know what it is, yet?" abigail. beau smiles a little to himself, knowing exactly what they were talking about.

your voice chimes in next, a little hum to the words out of your mouth. "no. i don't think we want to know, either."

"that couldn't be me. i had to know the second i could." delilah. her voice is louder than the others, and before he knew it, she was about to run straight into him. "oh, sorry, beau. girlie, your beau's in here!"

beau shakes his head, stepping out of her way. delilah goes straight for the lemonade pitcher, and so beau goes ahead and grabs her a cup. "very original, delly."

"hey, i got a lot of cheesy beau jokes to catch up on!"

beau snorts, letting delilah pour her glass of lemonade before he steals it right from her hand, dipping out of the kitchen and into the living room as she protests behind him.

"beau," you say with a little sigh, looking up from your spot in the rocking chair to meet his eyes. he comes to stand next to you, bending down to kiss your temple.

abigail's nails tap mindlessly on her own lemonade glass. "maybe you will tell me," she says, sitting up straighter, "since your girl here won't."

you roll your eyes fondly, your hand coming up to steal beau's off of the armrest. he lets you take his hand, tracing shapes on his palm with your fingertips. "she's being nosy."

"i'm always nosy! so tell me!" abigail looks over at beau, now, one hand strewn over her swollen belly. "what are your name ideas?"

beau huffs out a laugh, taking the stetson off of his head and draping it on top of yours. "this is what that's about?"

"told you," you hum, your free hand lifting up from your own swollen belly to adjust the brim of the hat on your head, "nosy, nosy."

beau doesn't mind it, though. he's got years of talking about his kids and boasting about his family to make up for. "rose. we were thinkin' rose."

notes. u may be thinking omfg dahlia finally watched big sky !! beau arlen !! no i did not. i stole his name and the lil info i could find on the big sky wiki n i made an au <3 bc that is my specialty!!! not knowing canon shit so i make aus!!! terrified to post this literally bc what if the beau arlen lovers think i did bad. i will pretend i don't see. anyways this is long asf sorry i had a STORY TO TELL !!! LOL

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @couturewinx @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra

[mistynatruther]

i was trying to sleep but i needed to get this out somewhere so here i am:

with this new scene of young silco and the new knowledge we have of him knowing jinx’s mom made a lot of people who favor jinx and silco’s relationship come out of hiding, so i just have a few words. now this has probably been said before but i have curated my space to not show me much silco and jinx tbh for this specific reason.

so don’t get me wrong. i LOVE their relationship. it has made me cry on multiple occasions. but what really GETS me in this fandom is the romanization of it. and i don’t mean the part where people say their relationship give off weird vibes ( bc i GET that one ) but i mean the people who think everything in the show revolves around them two. that their relationship was the BEST and he cared about her more than anybody and he was such a GOOD dad.

bc i feel like we watched two different shows.

because to me, sometimes, their relationship barely feels like a father/daughter relationship. yes, he raised her. but it’s more than that. silco is a deeply traumatized man who has clung onto a child who he THINKS ( !!!!!!! ) is just like him.

and what i mean by this is:

he projects onto her soooo much. if you remember the scene in the monster you created when he’s telling her that everyone has abandon and betrayed them and blah blah blah… it’s not true! it’s him wanting her to be like him so bad, him grabbing and pulling and gripping onto somebody who understands him. it’s unhealthy.

when silco looks at vi, he doesn’t see felicia’s daughter, he sees vanders. and with that, he sees the betrayal. and it hurts him. vi, unintentionally, harms him in ways that he, himself, does not understand. when he looks at vi, all he can see is the the life he once had and the hurt he now has.

so he’s projecting his pain and trauma onto jinx because she is SOOO vulnerable. she is deeply traumatized as well, but it’s not in the same way silco is. because he says it over and over again, he says that vi ABANDONED jinx when she didn’t. she never did. never would have. he wants jinx to have gone through what he did so he’s not alone.

i think jinx and silco’s relationship is very sweet at times and i could never be mad that he took her in, because in that moment, she truly had nobody else. vi got taken away, her family was dead, where would she go? i mean sure, she would’ve ended up as a firelight probably, but silco didn’t know that. all he saw was himself when he looked at her.

and i saw some people saying he held her because he knew who she was and it was because of felicia, but when you rewatch that scene with the context of him and vander’s past, it’s so clear that vander is his motive, not felicia.

he sees powder and when she says that vi is not her sister anymore, in his head, he believes that he has now found a kindred spirit. someone who is just like him. “we will show them all” he is saying that they will show everybody that it was THIER loss, vi and vander lost silco and powder, not the other way around. “we will show them all” that we did not let this affect us like it could have!

idk rambling is now over. it’s 1am and i work in the morning but i could not get this out of my head.

( also pls don’t take this as jinx and silco hate cause it’s not! like i said i only appreciate their relationship but i appreciate it for WHAT IT IS and not what the fandom wants it to be. i just think they’re interesting and complex and severely trauma bonded. vander is jinx’s dad. silco was the man who raised her. there’s a difference. and yes, her love for silco would be so much stronger bc she spent so much more time with him!! anyways good night. )

[crushedsweets]

neeed to hear the context behind ur most recent art. please enlighten us

you guys dont even know how excited i get when someone asks smth like this abt my art or headcanons or au.

i actually wrote liek a fucking essay oh my god im so sorry anon ill have the actual drawing context after the big bolded caps

TW for typical creepypasta story type stuff

anyway ok UNNECESSARY BACKSTORY: liu spent a long time trying to just psychologically recover from everything. he hated jeff and he hated the memory of everything. jeff signature murders would occur every now and again, each time liu would fall into a deep depression. the murders stopped for a while, and everyone believed jeff 'retired' or died. liu was conflicted about it. until Jeff committed his final full-blown 'jeff fashion' murder (janes family) in tuscaloosa alabama. liu had another breakdown and ended up moving to tuscaloosa because he was completely convinced he needed to find jeff again because he could fix it (or die trying and he'd be fine with that too)

nina was always one of those girls obsessed with 'true crime' but like.... the murderers instead of the cases. she was 12 when jeff's first rampage happened and she just fell head over heels in love with this freak. she began to act out, miss school for days, sneaking out to meet older people, etc etc. eventually she did the classic jeff smile cut into her face(she pussied out on making it like jeffs, so she has cleaner, less noticeable scars) . she started getting severely bullied (for being creepy and worshipping a literal murderer) and her parents sent her to live with her grandparents in mississpi. she started stalking liu through social media and whitepages when jeff was presumed dead. but eventually, jeff's final murder happened in alabama(a state away from her) and after turning 18, she ran away to go find jeff convinced he would 'save her' from the life she created for herself. nina got wrapped up in slenderman business because of her constant Tom Foolery. she met her idol

JEFF IS A BAD PERSON IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD. he did a beautiful job in using his #1 fangirl and enjoying the worship. she scrambled for pennies to afford an apartment, she'd sleep on the couch if he wanted to use her bed, she's ride her bike hours to go get weed or something from rando drug dealers that give better deals to pretty girls, make him food, do his damn laundry, literally anything and everything bc THATS HER MAAANNNNN (no he isnt.)

jeff DOES NOT GIVE A FUUUCK about everything nina does for him . one day he finds her trying to creepily get into contact with liu (and liu actually responded) and he loses his shit and stabs her and goes on and on about how 'you ruined your own useless fucking life your family is never going to take you back you did this to yourself' etc. he didn't intend to kill her only cuz he knew she'd forgive him and he liked all the shit she gave him

NOW ABOUT THE DRAWING ITSELF:::::

afterwards nina gets patched up from jeff stabbing her, she has some weird 'liu will save me' spiral (not romantically just in a very literal 'he can fix this' way). liu's been on his own spiral since finding out jeffs alive which is the only reason he even gave nina the time of day. eventually she ends up at his house to 'talk about jeff' bc she sent him creepy pics proving she knew jeff yadayadayada.

im not sure the exact conversation i imagined for the drawing, BUT liu eventually says something that sets nina off and she tears at her stitches and breaks down and drips blood all over his kitchen talking about 'I CAN MAKE HIM LOVE ME AGAIN I JUST NEED YOUR HELP PLEAAASEEEE' or something.

liu's a good man, much to his own detriment, and can't help but comfort this kid who's bleeding and crying in his kitchen at the fault of his own brother. he's all too familiar with wanting to repair his relationship with jeff, despite the amount of rage, betrayal, misery, etc he felt at jeffs hands. he doesn't ACTUALLY want to reconnect with jeff, but it's a very deep internal longing for the baby brother he once had that VERY RARELY overshadows his hatred

i want to reaffirm that liu does not feel positively about jeff at all, does not want to see him, and only moved to alabama b/c of a long ass mental health crises and is now too wrapped up in new financial commitments(plus jane) to move again. and now he feels obligated to help nina

he just misses being a big brother :( not so much the jeff part

also none of this at all is shipping at all i am terrified at the idea of people taking anything romantically . even if nina is in 'love' with jeff its purely for the story/horror . ITS ALL REALLY BAD

[stanlunter]

She-Ra AU, where Catra has a personality, similar to Azula from Avatar... What would Catra's relationship with Adora be like (both before + after Adora's betrayal)?... Would Catra's redemption happen earlier? 😺

This question actually made me think, thanks!

Well, tbh It's hard to say what it would look like

To Catra be similar so Azula, her relationship with Shadow Weaver and Adora should be completely different which would already change a lot

For ot to happen, Catra suppose to be the one who works hard to be stornger than Adora. And I can see her becoming stornger, but when Adora turns out to be She-ra, Catra would prolly start to hate her for being "special"

Also I think Adora just wouldn't be friends with Catra if she was like Azula. Basically their while friendship was based on Adora protecting Catra bc of her hero complex. But here Catra doesn't even need a protection. It's others need to be protected from her, lol. So I think their relationship would be more as rivals, than friends and every time they fight Catra would rather want to show Adora that she's stornger and that Adora is a failure that "decided to escape, bc she knew she's too weak". Adora would prolly treat Catra the same way Zuko treated Azula (think she's just bad and getting annoyed by her), but Adora would prolly also see that Catra is a victim of this competion and would actually feel sorry for Catra that she has to always prove she's better and etc. Unlike Zuko, Imo Adora would feel empathy towards Catra)

Hordak would be more like Ozai for Catra and SW would rather be Like Ursa (she would def be afraid of Catra this way). While Hordak Imo would start trusting Catra more

Also the Horde would 100% defeat the rebelion, just bc Azula is super smart

About redemption tho... It's hard. I would say, the main difference here is that Azula-Catra would NEVER go as far as Catra did with the portal. And all the things she has done wouldn't be done bc she hates everyone and Adora, but rather for the Horde and to prove Hordak she's a better Force captain. So Azula just wouldn't be as evil in this way.

So, since Catra wouldn't even open the portal, her redemption arc would be easier, bc she didn't "cross the line" here. I think Catra should have seen that Adora is happy without proving anyone that she worths it. She doesn't need to be the strongest and the smartest to be loved. And based on it, Catra would slowly realize that she's not gonna be happy by proving Hordak she's strong every day. Catra would also see the damage she and the Horde have done and she def wouldn't like it and it would be the root of her redemption.

The first act would be a mercy to someone. Doesn't matter to who, but most likely to a citizen, mb even a child. And if Adora seen it, she would realize that there is still good Inside of her and she's not all that bad. She would mb even try to talk to her, bur at first Catra would reject it.

During her whole arc she would probably think about it a lot: the damage they do to the citizens and that she's doesn't need to prove herself to Hordak to be happy and loved.

So, after some strong moment of getting disappointed in Hordak (it could be basically anything) and realizing that he doesn't care about her and just uses her as a weapon, it would be a final straw and she will betrays him and somehow help the heroes

I don't think she has to join the good guys tho. Help him yes, but it would be better for her to just leave and go away somewhere else. But ofc, before it she should get along with Adora and admit that she's good and that she deserves good things that has happened to her

But then leave and find her own way and her own people who would care about her...

But that's another story!

Again, thank you for this question, it was actually interesting, I liked thinking about it. Actually, this au is just so good that I would even want to read or see something with this!

[evansbby]

Okay girl I want to start off by saying thank you for the new chapter of WG and that I’m sorry this review is really late! I started reading it last week but never had the time to finish because of finals so since then I’ve been avoiding your blog like the plague 💀💀 because I didn’t want any spoilers but I finished IT TODAY FINALLY!!! 🥳🥳 And I have so many thoughts!!🤠 

First was that during the confrontation scene between Sharon, Reader, and Ari I was listening to music and Wallflower by Billie Eilish is so WG!Ari, Reader, and Sharon coded like omg it could not have come on at a better time. PLEASE PLEASE listen to it and tell me what you think 🙏🙏 

Next, I know I have been notoriously team daddy Ari but guys…😔😔 I think I’m team Steve🙂 now.

I had a suspicion since Kira was introduced that Ari did something to her and that turned me off of him bc like why? Like if it was a random girl like Carla Wanda I wouldn’t mind but Kira also had like a shy, innocent demeanor similar to reader so for me, him messing with Kira took away from the whole dynamic of him and readers relationship if that’s makes sense. 

I think Ari was super sincere this chapter and yes he’s changed but he obviously keeps things from reader and just because he apologized and changed it doesn’t mean that that wipes his slate of everything he’s done to so many girls.  So although the picnic scene was cute I just wasn’t feeling it with Ari. I loved Steve’s window scene and honestly the only thing actually wrong with Steve is that he has anger/mood issues which obviously needs to be resolved but at least he’s self aware, cares for reader and his sister, and he’s not a bad guy, he just has a lot on his plate. 

Wanda is so selfish and annoying my god and Curtis is such a shit stirrer. I loved when Ari came on stage and called her Carla lmaoo 😭💀.

During the confrontation scene I felt terrible for reader for being humiliated like that but I tried to think about it in Sharon’s perspective and it was really her suffering, she was literally cheated on. Like if the roles were reversed, we would all be hating on reader. Even if we were in Carla’s POV, reader is a villain but that’s because that hoe has selective hearing. Reader is a home wrecker, so while I feel bad for her and was crying at the end when Steve was confronting Ari and Reader felt so confused, she is not guilt free because she was apart of it as well and knowingly continuing her relationship with Ari.

I think Sharon was very upset with Reader because she liked her or something so it made that betrayal a lot more hurtful for her.

And yes, I think Ari did spread Kira’s nudes around or maybe even worse. The thing is, I would prefer it that he did that because he wanted to and not because his friends forced him to or something because it shows that no feelings were attached to Ari’s relationship with Kira (that’s so heartless lolll💀💀but..).

I think Steve’s gonna get to the hospital and be okay.

But Ari was such a dick in that moment bc he knew what he did wrong and him trying to shoo reader off to the car while Steve was exposing him?? He is not a good guy and while I don’t believe that Ari would hurt Reader like that and that they could have a good relationship, I just don’t like Ari because he’s not a good person in general, even if he is to Reader. I believe Ari loves her and all but I kinda don’t like him, I don’t know I’m confused.

I think Steve would be good to reader but the thing is Ari and reader have so much history that I feel like they’ll end up together and Steve won’t get his chance. 

So am I Team Steve or Team Ari? I’m definitely leaning towards Steve. 

Also I wanted to add that I know you were super worried about this chapter not being good but I think it was one of my favorites of WG. I didn’t even notice there wasn’t any smut in WG4 until you pointed it out at the end. While I adore your smut stories, I liked that this chapter didn’t have smut because it gave room for the story to build and become more meaningful. Remember that stories don’t need to have smut to be great and that’s evident because WG4 was a masterpiece!!! 🥺💛

Again thank you for this amazing chapter darling, I hope you’re keeping well and of course we’ll eat up anything you write for us, please don’t ever underestimate your talent. You’re a talented writer and your work is amazing.

-🦕 (your biggest fan❤️)

omg dinosaur anon i'm so sorry for the late response!!! i'm still in the process of responding to all the wicked games feedback so i'm deffo still slowly getting through it!! i've just been so busy these past few days!

okay so firstly, a different anon also said the same thing that they were listening to wallflower by billie eilish whilst reading this fic and it fit so much!! i still need to listen to this song hehe.

and i get what you mean but READER ISN'T SHY. she's nothing like kira!!! but you need to know the whole story to understand and we don't know the whole story yet! we don't know half of it! but reader is her own unique self and she and kira are not really that similar?? i'm saying this bc a lot of people seem to think reader is all shy and innocent like kira but SHE ISN'T :((( like yeah reader was naive at first but she isn't anymore, and also kira hasn't really been described as being naive? all we know about her is that something terrible happened to her and she has social anxiety... sooo yeah we don't even know the full story!! so i don't really think it should take away from ari and reader's dynamic if ari had a history with kira...

and yep i totally agree with you about the confrontation scene! honestly if the roles were reversed, maybe people would be cheering for carla! like let's say if it was sharon who was the other woman, then her getting exposed would seem like a good thing! but tbh that's what i wanted to portray - that reader isn't innocent in all of this. and yeah her getting exposed like that was harsh but it created drama and buzz lmao so for the story it was needed.

ALSO NOT YOU TURNING INTO A STEVE GIRLY THO SKFNLASGNLAK all i'll say is that... with this chapter, i went in knowing that most people were team Ari and i wanted some of y'all to switch over to team Steve... which is why i wrote the chapter how i write it ;) SO WHO KNOWS WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT CHAPTER HEHEHEHE

and thank you so much for your reassuring words and compliments when it came to no smut in this chapter! i'm glad it didn't bother you and that most people didn't even notice it! yes i was totally insecure and worried about this chapter but i'm really happy with ultimately how it turned out!!

THANK YOU SM BESTIE, honestly i love your feedback and i love how you have supported me for so long and i love your commentary on everything i write! you are so appreciated you have no idea!! also sorry for the lack of emojies but i'm on my laptop! anyways love you bestie thank u sm <3

[mostlymalena]

June 26th 2024 1:02am

At the coffee shop today, I go to add something to the calendar in June. There is an event at the end of June. On the 29th I have a reoccurring event titled "Maddie's Birthday". For half a second I was confused and then I remembered and the remembering crashed all around me and I felt it all swirling in my stomach. I went to the bathroom and let loose a few tears.

My exboyfriend had a best friend growing up. They were hip and hip all throughout high school. She took her own life after they went to college. He mentioned it was her birthday a day or two after the actual day last year and I put it in my calendar to make sure I remembered and so we could commemorate her. I was going to take him to the park we shared and plant some flowers for her there.

This of course leads to Emma. As most everything in my life does these days. I have had this hollow haunted feeling since that terrible terrible week in March. Grace tonight asked me how long I mourned and grieved Emma after she passed. I had to think back (which hurt) and I told her that when Emma took her own life her Dad was the one who called me. I had spoken to Emma the day before. I flew out the next morning to say goodbye to her body and take her off life support. After her Dad hung up I called P. I knew he would know what this black tar coating everything felt like I knew he could empathize and explain it to me. The grief made me blind.

When I got back to Wilmington everything had died with Emma. Spring felt like an insult.

When I got back to Wilmington I hadn't even told my closest friends she had died. I just was quiet. It took me 1 month to listen to music and 2 months after that to listen to music with words.

5 days after Emma died, P broke up with me. I cannot but have been trying for over a year to somehow describe that week. I am not blaming him for anything.

I just needed him and that was my own fault. I needed someone who understood but I never stopped to think if he had even dealt with the grief of his own. I'm so sorry for that. I was drowning in both losses and they morphed together to create this giant splotch of ink that stained everything good.

I became mean and bitter. I tried to force P to love me. I wouldn't let anything leave. I needed someone to hold me and I tried to make someone who hated me love me. I could not bare Emma leaving and him leaving all at once I could not do it. So I clung on and I found comfort in his minimal tolerance of me. Even when I caught him with another girl in his bed, even when he lied about it, even when he wouldnt talk to me about Emma only bc he just didnt know what to say and I didnt either. Even when he would not date me or post me or tell anyone even me that he loved me. Even when I knew!!

He was alive! He was there! I clung and clung and I tried everything . I begged. My knees were bruised from begging. In my mind they both left me willingly. I could not ask Emma why but P was there so I thought I could be who he wanted and he would want me that way. I wanted to be understood and I wanted to be supported by my partner.

You cannot force someone to stay. You cannot force someone to love you. I am really sorry that I did. I know now that the message was very clear but I am a bee and denial is my hive.

I mashed those two traumas together and now I have double the mourning to do. I don't feel bad about the way I have processed her death OR my breakup. I should have never had had to go through either the way I did. I know that now so I have given myself a lifetime if I need. They both had promised me a lifetime so I am forgiven if it takes me more than a couple months to grieve that.

I am grieving love that I thought would last a lifetime.

I have never been more heartbroken and it's still broken. I think it all just simmered down to betrayal. She betrayed me by killing herself and killing OUR future we had too. O still talks about her. Her urn is what I wake up to every single fucking day.

I betrayed myself by grasping onto scraps that were sold to me as gold.

I don't think Ive ever really written out my feelings about Emma stuff like this. It does not feel good.

[sylver-drawer]

I personally could’ve defended Helena forever, but I dropped KtV because I just couldn’t stand Eris anymore. Like I get it, it’s supposed to be realistic and she doesn’t care about people she sees as fictional characters.

But also… she was so rude to everyone? And kept victim blaming? And everyone kept justifying it with “oh she doesn’t care about them so why should she try to see logically” and that’s just. Like it’s one thing to not care about people. Her not caring about the other characters, ok. I can get that. It’s a whole other thing to refuse to see logic and reason and blame random people just because you don’t have the energy to care. She showed no empathy towards anyone else, but also acted upon that apathy. It’s ok to not care about others! You just can’t be a bitch about it! I’m not saying she had to be nice to everyone. I’m saying she could’ve just ignored them. Like, the Duke and her maid knew she wasn’t actually ‘Eris’. She could’ve avoided meeting the ‘main characters of the story’ entirely and the Duke could’ve made that possible. Even if he didn’t, she could just run away. She doesn’t care about anyone else after all. Why is she trying to uphold her character’s noble dignity and duties? She would accept the situations she knew were bad for her and be upset. And then she would slowly blame Helena for the reason why she’s forced to be there…?

Like. I liked her mindset. I liked that she didn’t care about the other characters, I just couldn’t stand her attitude and how she treated and behaved, somehow becoming more sympathetic to the second female lead. I just couldn’t get myself to feel attached and like the female lead, so I dropped the story.

This is the same situation with WMMAP and Remarried Empress where at some point I stayed only because I liked the second female lead, or just dropped the story because I couldn’t physically handle the female lead or how the community worshipped the female lead.

It’s one thing to like the female lead and feel excited for her accomplishments. It’s another to blindly praise the female lead for doing nothing (and still having the upper hand) while belittling the other female characters (who are obviously the losing team here,,,).

And yes, the double standards for Your Throne. We get introduced immediately to the concept of Psyche and Eros getting together, replacing Medea’s hard earned work as the next empress. But,,, does that validate her murdering an innocent knight close to psyche???? Like???? What’s the connection here???? Revenge? But like. Medea never liked Eros. So what’s the point of taking away someone Psyche loved, if you never loved the person who was ‘taken’ from you…? Medea taking Psyche’s place at the prayer in the temple, ok. That’s taking her place and duties, which is what Medea feels was stolen from her. That makes sense. Immediate brutal murder of people close to Psyche though????

This made sense after the backstory stuff, because it was lokey payback for Medea’s feeling of betrayal of Psyche and not Eros which we were led to believe. But at the time, readers did not know this and breeze over and even cheer Medea’s war crimes on? Before we even get to know her reason? I get that readers feel obligated to defend and stand by the female lead no matter what. But also. Reading comprehension??? Literacy??? Don’t raise your pitchforks up for someone you don’t even know deserves it yet.

The praise of the boys are insane, too. Like when did the fandom start worshipping and thirsting over Eros???? Hello??? Like he’s abusing and assaulting both girls and takes pleasure in doing so (HE TORTURED PSYCHE LATELY?????). I pause my progress with Your Throne for a few months and half the community went from hating him to thirsting over him??? When he got worse than before? Does not compute?

I think the only reasonable people I’ve seen are Psydea shippers bc wtf. I think we as a community need to stop hating on random female characters and be more harsh on the male characters.

it will be always beyond me how you guys will root for the mean female character in the isekai / historical stories and call her "girlboss" just for doing anything . But ofcourse the girl who is being all cute and extroverted is bad and an immediate threat to her!!! But the guy who is being all cute and extroverted is a potential ml and you guys will swoon over how y'all be getting "2nd male lead syndrome" even if the guy has the persona of ⅓rd of a raw bread lmao.

Yes I won't outright hate you for writing female characters who hate eachother and all but I miss the thought behind writing them and interpreting them properly .

wow I needed to get that off my chest .

In conclusion: y'all are mean to female characters without no reason and lenient with male characters for no reason and it's dumb lmao

[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | finale

summary: a summer internship at a famous record label turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au

wordcount: 7k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes. a is for angst baby, slow burn romantic post-argument sex, unprotected sex (bc), rough sex in a limo, coercion, extremely dubious consent but she gets out of it, namjoon is a big boi, manipulative and obsessive themes, choking, toxic relationships, some physical violence/fighting (not oc), drugs/alcohol mentioned, lots of kissing, dirty talk, creampie, heartbreak, betrayal, guns (not used), oral (f rec), jimin eats you out like a king, anxiety, declarations of love, somehow yet unsurprisingly taehyung is still really hot, yn jumps out of a car but shes ok, twists and turns ;) happy? ending - please read with caution!!! unedited

taglist (sorry if i missed ppl!): @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees@kooookie​ @queenmasterxx@crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra@un2-verseverse@winter-melontea@equivocacies​ @infernal-alpaca@shrimpmsg@meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii@liltangerined @littlrmills14blog @issysor@arandomblackgirl@adoringinsanity@giadalin@jeontier @kaithezaftig@jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi@happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs@kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind @yoongihandfetish @father-time-and-baby-new-year

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | finale (lite) | finale (dark) part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | series navi | masterlist |

Taehyung rolled a chess pawn in the palm of his hand. His eyes locked on the game board where two knights stood at the crossroads of his queen. The timer clicked softly in the background, but all Taehyung could hear was his heart beating loudly through his head. A weight dragging down his heart.

So this was guilt.

Taehyung never wasted time with such feelings. Caring for others had never come naturally to him. It was why he was so brilliant at what he did. He had engineered a façade to win your trust early on. In a sea of unhinged men, he meant to be a diamond in the rough. He was ever so sweet to you. Caring, even. Everything was intentional. Every move. Every lie.

Taehyung never wanted you to die. He couldn’t stomach it. Leaving you in the fire was intentional. He knew Namjoon was following you around like the creep he is. He had to see the betrayal in your eyes. He had to make you feel as bad as he felt. He had to do something that would make you want to kill him on sight. He needed to cut you off for good.

Now that he had, the thought of you hating him kept him up at night. He felt guilty.  

Why do you care? Taehyung’s feelings for you—he wasn’t sure what they were. The moment you lost faith in him, he seemed to shatter. He wanted you to trust him. He yearned for your approval like never before. Would it have been so wrong to take you and run away? To keep you for himself, far from the chaos of this place?

He shook his head. Blinking at the chessboard a moment longer he began to smile. Giggle. Before he was laughing wildly. He slammed the table to the side, watching all the pieces scatter onto the marble floors. 

It was unfair. It was so fucking unfair. Taehyung would have worshipped you. You were a goddess in his eyes. He shook his head. It was none of his business anymore. What you did—who you chose to be with. He had betrayed you. Lied to you since the moment the two of you met. The conflicting thoughts in his head racing a mile a minute—making him queasy with anticipation.

Just leave it alone. Do what you came here for.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn't sit idly by and watch you make a huge mistake. To be with someone who wouldn't allow you to be the amazing woman you were. Someone who only saw you as a prize. He needed you to leave him, to leave Death Valley—but wanted you to be happy.

Sighing, Taehyung reached for his phone. He was doing this for you. He would have done anything for you—but knew in his heart that his would be his last move.

Check and mate. He was done with you after this.

He tasted the remnants of your name on his lips before sending a final message.

You’d never forgive him. But at least you would be safe. 

The clock ticking could barely hide the tension in the room. Jimin couldn’t even hear it, his ears filled with his racing heart. His lungs constricted—he could hardly breathe with how angry he was. Gripping the steel handles of his chair so tight, his knuckles were going white.

But he didn’t dare say a word. Because he had been in the business long enough to know when someone was plotting against him. Namjoon was naïve. Tacky, even. The desperation of his actions would have been amusing if it wasn’t for your pliable willingness to participate.

He couldn’t look at you. You were by his side, sitting with your hand on his arm. It was too painful—because you were cold. You were back to playing with his heart and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“It’s just a PR stunt” Hobi had led them inside the label to a conference room. After a long sip of his coffee he spoke again. “They both agreed to it. Imagine the fucking ticket sales for your concert now”

Tugging at his sleeve, you leaned towards him.  “I’m sorry baby, it’s not real though I promise.”

Jimin scoffed, turning his head. He knew you better than you thought and could see through your lies. What he couldn’t figure out was why? Why would you agree to something so rash and impulsive?

“This will also help us push down news about Yoongi’s death”

Jimin finally locked his gaze with yours. So that’s it, isn’t it. He truly hadn’t known until Jungkook told him. Was that why you were mad? Did you think he was behind this? This had Namjoon written all over it.

He turned to the bastard, who looked far too pleased with all this for his liking. Namjoon had been a pain in his ass from the day they had met. Fights, to tailing Y/n around every damn second, he couldn’t shake the creep and was getting fed up.

“What the hell did you tell her?”

Namjoon grinned. Leaning back, he ran his fingers through his hair. His newfound confidence was nauseating to Jimin—knowing that it was being fueled by you. “You know, I never really got what people see in you. You don’t even care about music. Your fans. Any of it. You don’t deserve any of it, and you definitely don’t deserve Y/n you crazy prick”

Jimin laughed bitterly, ticking his jaw. “Who the hell even are you? You’re nobody.”

“I’m the guy who just fucked your girlfriend a few minutes ago, let’s start there”

The tug on Namjoon’s lips sent Jimin off the edge. He lunged across the table, fists swinging but Jungkook jumped up to hold him back.

“Namjoon” You muttered sternly, but Jimin was not oblivious to the way you blushed. He scoffed. You had shattered his heart. In front of millions.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, holding your cheek into his palm when really he wanted to grip your throat and squeeze until you couldn’t breathe. “We don’t need this, I don’t care about ticket sales or breaking records anymore—all I want is you”

You sighed, “It’s not about you baby, I wanted to help Namjoon out a little too. It’s his first concert”

Jimin pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “Y/n, I hope you know that I trust you, but Namjoon clearly has an ulterior motive with you. You do see that, right?”

You scoffed, mumbling to yourself.

Jimin raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you want to say to me, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Your gaze was frigid. Everything about you was. He hated it. He wanted to fight, because at least then you would react to him. At least then he would know you cared enough to tell him what was on your mind.

Reaching for your hands, he brought your fingers to his lips, lightly brushing kisses against each one. He knew you liked it when he was soft with you. He needed to remind you who he was. Who he was to you.

“Listen baby,” He spoke softly, twirling your fingers with his, “Jungkook told me what happened to Yoongi” He pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. “I’m so sorry. And I can’t image what you’re going through right now. I know you cared about him”

You stared at him with disbelief, “I loved him, Jimin”

His heart sank. Fingers constricting around your wrist. A part of him wanted to toss a chair across the wall. Maybe pull out a gun and shoot Namjoon in the head.

He exhaled. He couldn’t lose you. Not after everything the two of you had been through. Jimin changed for you. You made him want to be better everyday. You taught him that there was more to life, and all he wanted was to go chase it with you by his side.

He could tell you were taunting him. Trying to get him to snap so you would have any excuse to go running to Namjoon, but he wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction. He was going to prove himself to you.

“I know.” He looked into your eyes. Searching them. Trying to convey his sincerity when he said, “If you want to talk about it—about him, I’m here for you”

You smiled. Fake. He hadn’t gotten through. He sighed in defeat, backing into himself. Jungkook cleared his throat. Jimin had forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Y/n, do you want me to drive you home?” Jungkook briefly looked at Jimin, indicating an understanding.

Namjoon stood up as you did, eagerly waving you goodbye. Jimin could have vomited, but stared aimlessly at the wall instead.

Your head was spinning. Dizzy trying to count the lies tossed around so easily minutes ago. You were grateful Jungkook offered you an out. Being around Jimin was too complicated. You needed to stay focused.

“Your acting skills have improved” Jungkook’s voice was amused, breaking the still silence surrounding you.

You grinned. Jungkook met your eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “My god, Y/n what the fuck are you up to now?”

Licking your lips, you turned to face him. “Have you ever trusted someone so much, that even when the truth is staring right in front of you, you simply can’t see it?”

“You talking about Yoongi?”

“I’m talking about you” You pulled out a gun—something you had managed to snatch from Namjoon during sex. “Pull over and get out of the car”

The shock in Jungkook’s face was priceless. You finally sympathized with whatever sadistic kick Jin used to get out of tricking others. Jungkook quickly stopped the car, stepping outside with his hands in the air.

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, “Whatever this is, is a misunderstanding. You’re still messed up over Yoongi and I get that—but” He dropped to his knees, “J-just drop the gun and talk to me”

The thing was—you no longer had anything to say. You were rightfully fed up with the lies. Not only was Namjoon clearly lying to your face, but moments after you received a message from Taehyung.

Taehyung. The emotional haze over Yoongi and Jimin had almost made you forget—that the puppet master still lived, and more than likely, was still pulling the strings. You were willing to bet Taehyung killed Yoongi. It was so perfect. His whole plan had been perfect from the start and you were burning to look him in the eye one more time just to beat him at his own game.

Of course it had to be Taehyung. Taehyung killed Jin—and almost killed you. He had been the mastermind. The king. And like an idiot you trusted him. You really, truly trusted him.

You trusted he would never hurt you.

Your mind whirred. Reason escaping you completely you began to question everyone you had been around. Everyone always told you Jungkook was a liar. Good for nothing. Controlled by the highest bidder.

Well, the highest bidder was no longer Yoongi. If Taehyung killed Yoongi, Jungkook was probably balls deep in his pocket too.

“I’m gonna ask you once. Slowly” You gritted through your teeth, “Who killed Yoongi?”

“Y/n—I don’t know. Okay, I texted you when I found out from Joon. Why would I kill Yoongi, huh?”

“Never said you did. I’m asking if you know” You shook your head. You didn’t have time for his evasive answers. You clicked off the safety, making Jungkook tremble.

“Y/n what the hell, I’m on your side alright?”

“When I told you Taehyung was alive—you didn’t really react much. Did you know it was fake the whole time? Have you been helping him?”

“Y/n—if you’re asking if I will work for Taehyung now that Yoongi is dead” He exhaled, “Then yeah, I will. That’s what I fucking do, Y/n. Not all of us have popstar boyfriends who can take care of their every need. I gotta make my living and this is how I fucking do it. But you asked me to find Jimin even when Taehyung had kidnapped him and I did. I brought him to you. Taehyung isn’t after you. He just wants you to stay away from him. He would never hurt you, Y/n. And if I haven’t made it clear yet—neither would I”

“Oh you’re defending him now?” You raised your eyebrows.

“No—I just—Y/n just leave it alone. You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now, trust me” You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gulped. “I don’t know who killed Yoongi, honest. Namjoon was the last person I know who even saw him” He paused. “I’ve known Namjoon for a long time Y/n. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.”

You shook your head. There was no way. Namjoon would never kill someone, let alone someone you cared about.

You’d had enough.

“Tell Taehyung I’m coming for him. He’s not getting away with this”

Driving Jimin’s car. You had forgotten the delirious high of stepping on that pedal and zooming through the highway without a care in the world. Nostalgia panged in your heart as you recalled simpler times, when you were hooking up with Jimin—and not being hunted down by a ruthless gangster.

You arrived at Jimin’s apartment, unsure if he himself was there.

He wasn’t.

You knew he would be mad. You truly had appreciated his effort to stay calm in such a situation. You felt bad for the way you acted but you needed Hobi and Namjoon to think you were against Jimin. After all, Taehyung was always watching.

Tearing off your clothes you ran into his room, ready to surprise him and hopefully, convince him not to let out his anger at you. Jimin arrived a few hours later. You heard his offbeat steps. He’s drunk. Quickly you grabbed one of his shirts, threw it on before meeting him in the kitchen. His eyes widened upon seeing you.

“Y/n—” His voice was soft. Slurred. Eyes shot red—you were unsure if he was even truly conscious.

“Sshh” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips to his neck. “I’m so sorry baby. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

You felt something cold against your skin. Tears. Your heart dopped into a pit. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me” He mumbled into your skin. Carefully, you led Jimin into the bed, slipping under the sheets next to him. You held him close to your chest, hoping that the beat of your heart might give him some solace.

Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind: You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now. You thought back to the previous day. How Namjoon had so easily convinced you to give up on the man who clearly adored you? He baited you. Swung the news of Yoongi’s death in your face all too conveniently. Was Namjoon working for Taehyung too? The two men hardly ever interacted. But you were cross examining everything you ever thought you believed. The only truth you could hold onto now, was Jimin.

Jimin had no reason to lie. No reason to kill Yoongi because you had already chosen Jimin. Whoever killed Yoongi needed a good enough motive. Taehyung had motive—he wanted Death Valley to himself. There wasn’t anyone else unless…

Your eyes fluttered shut.

It must have been the middle of the night. You felt Jimin stir next to you. Cautiously you let your eyes flutter open.

Jimin jumped up, gasping for air suddenly. He was breathing heavily, a cold sweat breaking out all over him. You quickly brought a glass of water to him, guiding it to his lips. Stroking his back, you calmed him down until he was able to look you in the eye.

“Get the fuck out of my house” His voice came out broken. As though he had been yelling into a void for hours and no longer had any fight left in him. When you didn’t move, he pushed you away. “Did you hear me? I said get out.”

The frightening part was that he wasn’t raising his voice. Anger laced each syllable that left his quivering lips. A sense of desperation swept over you—he had to hear you out.

“Jimin—baby, I’m sorry, okay I was faking it” Jimin leaped out of the bed, the glass of water spilling across the bed. His fists were clenched tight. Jaw locked, eyes glaring.

“I don’t care why you did it, Y/n. You promised me you would come straight home from work. You didn’t. I come and find that you publicly agreed to marry someone else?” He huffed, kneeling to shuffle through his drawers. He found his pill bottle, twisting the cap off and dropping a few tablets into his palm. You went over to him, grabbing his wrist before he could take them.

“Why do you think I made such a fuss about you leaving? I don’t want to suffocate you Y/n. I don’t want to hold you back but fuck can you blame me for being scared? I swear one day you’re saying you love me the next you’re off with Yoongi or making out with Namjoon. I love you—and I think you love me too. If you’re planning something tell me. You keep hurting me Y/n—you keep making me miserable by breaking my heart” Looking you dead in the eye, he tossed the pills into his mouth, gulping them down.

“Jimin. I know you didn’t kill Yoongi. Namjoon thinks you did, and I admit, for a moment I believed him. But then I got thinking, and I realized it had to be Taehyung” You let go of his hand, only for Jimin to sat back down on the bed, head hanging over in defeat.

“And in all that time you had to think you couldn’t bother to give me a fucking phone call?” Jimin gritted through his teeth. You knew he was right. You had been acting out for some time now—and the fact of the matter was: you were overwhelmed.

Jimin watched your conflicted face. So much had happened. You had never taken a second to truly reflect. Realizing you loved Yoongi despite his obsessiveness. Finding out what he had done to you. First you thought Jimin had died at the hands of Yoongi—then Yoongi at the hands of Jimin, all while Namjoon had been pining for you, and you faced the biggest betrayal when Taehyung left you to die in the fire.

“I can’t do this” Your voice barely above a whisper, you quickly began to gran your things. You needed to be alone. You needed to think. You dashed for the door but Jimin was faster. He blocked you with his arm, cornering you against the door.

“You’re not leaving”

“You literally told me to get out” You screamed. It didn’t matter than he hadn’t raised his voice. It didn’t matter than he was only inches away from you.

“You do not speak to me like that” Jimin whispered. His eyes bore holes into yours. You shuddered under his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Jimin hissed, fingers cupping your jaw. Tilting your face towards his. “Words”

“Yes”

His gaze shifted. You recognized it right away. The predatory, lustful gaze whenever he wanted you. Pupils turning dark. Laser sharp.

“Let me in” He whispered against your cheek. His breath tingling against the heat rising to your face. “Let me in to that twisted little head of yours”

You kissed him.

With a slight turn of your head your lips were on his. Familiar. Comforting. Yet ablaze with the same carnal desire as when you first met him. It was exhaustion and relief. It was pain and sadness. It was you and him. Nothing so imperfect, so uniquely flawed had ever made more sense to you.

“I love you” Your lungs had no air—but the words were easy to say. In a sea of lies maybe this was the only truth you needed. Gasping you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips—arms around his neck. He was warm. Melting you down. Inhibitions released.

He was being gentle. You may have wanted him to be rough but it wasn’t what you needed right now. He carefully carried you back into the kitchen, setting you on the countertop. Shelved between your thighs he gripped your hips, rocking to a slow rhythm, your bodies pressed up tight.

His fingers trailed over you, until his hands found your face. Cupping your cheeks he kissed you more intensely. His lips were so soft. Incredibly sweet. Everything else seemed to disappear.

He backed away, catching his breath. When his eyes fluttered open, you could appreciate again how beautiful this man was.

“You drive me crazy Y/n” He blinked at you, pressing his forehead to yours. You grinned—to which he lifted you back up as you squealed, giggling as he swung you around. Pressing your back against he wall he held you steady on his thigh, fingers finding your aching core. Gazing into you, he watched as you squirmed under his touch. Your pussy clenching as he rubbed tight circles against your clit. He was beyond turned on, seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he touched you. The way your lips parted and you fingers dug into his flesh.

“Shit you’re so fucking hot” He let you land on your feet before dropping to his knees. You stared down at him in shock, hand weaving through his hair as he peeled off your panties. He pressed his nose to your pelvis, breathing you in deeply. You blushed, thighs trembling as his tongue found your clit, licking soft kittenish striped around the sensitive flesh.

Heat burned through you—twitching through your veins. Your heart pounded, nails scraping against his scalp—tugging at his hair. “F-fuck, baby” You moaned—his hands pushing your thighs apart.

“You taste so good baby” His deep voice vibrated through you. You sighed, missing his warmth suddenly. Pulling him back up you pulled him in for another kiss—tasting yourself on his wet lips. Your tongue sliding over his. Moans passing softly between the little space between you two.

“Want you inside me” You felt him smirk under your lips, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” He breathed into you, cocky, teasing—edging you on. “Of course you do” His hands slid to your ass, roughly grabbing a handful before spanking you lightly. He rolled his hips into you, bulge pressed against your clit. The friction was amazing, but you wanted him to fill you up. You needed him deep inside. Needed to feel closer.

Your fingers tugged at his waistband, and Jimin simply chuckled as you pulled down his pants. Not missing a beat he hooked your leg over his elbow, kissing your ankles—down your calf, before finding your lips again. His other hand tugged at his cock, lining it up with you—grinning when he felt your weat heat suck in his tip so eagerly.

“You’re dripping for me angel” He whispered. You blushed, quivering as he sank a little deeper into you. You pulled off your shirt. He bottomed out, staring at your chest.

“Fuck, why are you so perfect?” He groaned, unsure if it was from the pleasure of being inside your tight cunt or your breasts hanging out in front of him, all for him—him only. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, eyes glued to the way you face twitched with pleasure. He loved how you looked when he made you feel good. He never wanted to stop. One hand steadying your leg, he carefully pulled out all the way till the tip—your slick coating him, dripping from him. It was amazing to see, as he entered you again, his breath became shaky. You felt so good, so warm around him. You were the best he’d ever had.

Forearms caging your head, he gently traced the side of your face, dragging out and thrusting back in. It was red—heat—burning desire. He took it slow, but you could feel his desperation in every move. His lips brushed over yours, his taste a whisper away.

You lowered your leg, pushing him away so you could turn around. Quickly discarding his own shirt, he cupped your breasts with his hands before pressing his chest into your back. His fingers leaving sparks across your body as his cock slipped back inside you, the sound of his hips pounding against your ass echoing through the room.

“Fuck” He cursed, kissing the nape of your neck before grabbing your hair—pushing your face to press up against the wall. Lips on your jaw, moaning your name as he thrusted in and out, like he had no time to lose. You gasped for air. His cock filling you up so good, hitting you right where you liked it. Your legs felt numb, trembling in bliss as he continued to drive into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He whispered into your mouth. Your eyes were watering with need. “Oh, poor baby wants to cum so fucking bad doesn’t she?” You nodded weakly, his fingers finding your clit again. Flicking at it.

“Jimin—” Your voice was broken. Lost in pleasure, “Feel—so good, fuck”

He smiled, “Go ahead baby—look at me when you cum. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock”

Your eyes locked. It was want. Need. And everything in between. This was all you’d ever wanted, it had always been him. You weren’t ready when you first met him, and neither was he. You weren’t what he expected, and he was everything except your fantasy.

In it’s own, twisted way, it was love at first sight. Obsession at first sight. Hate—turned into something so beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum, Jimin” You liked that you could say his name. You liked that he would say yours. His eyes softened as he felt you tighten around him. It hit you like lightening—you fell apart in pleasure. It was ecstasy—the high you’d been chasing all along. The high only he could give you. He groaned loudly, spilling into you moment after as you twitched in his hold. You dripped all around him, soaking your thighs.

“I love you, Y/n” He kissed you deeply, panting into you, “I love you so much”

“I love you too, Jimin, always” You assured him—cupping his face, “It’s always gonna be you”

“Talk to me” He gazed at you sincerely, nothing but adoration in his eyes, “Just talk to me, whatever you’re thinking, I wanna know. Okay, I trust you. So please, just trust me too”

You nodded, leaving a final chaste kiss lingering on his lips. “I do. I have one last thing to take care of, and then I promise we can go away. Trust me one last time. I’ll come back to you”

You were never a high heels kind of girl. But there was a lot of press tonight—press expecting you to make an appearance tonight. The stunt had created so much buzz that Hobi specifically hired hair and makeup for you. He allowed Namjoon to pick out your dress—it was black. Tight fitting. Simple. Sleek. Teardrop diamond earrings and a small necklace.

You’d never wear this to a concert. How were you supposed to dance? Let loose. But then you remembered—tonight wasn’t supposed to be fun. Not for you.

You had thought long and hard about what you were going to say to the press waiting early outside. Hobi instructed you to wait for Namjoon before making an entrance. You called Jimin earlier, letting him know where your head was at. He seemed to be supportive of whatever decision you decided to go—as long as you didn’t embarrass him any further.

It had been a while since you had seen Namjoon. He had always been somewhat of an afterthought, and yet you knew you had led him on hopelessly. It was time to come clean. You were unsure how he would take it.

“Wow” Namjoon stood in the doorway of your fitting room. Leaning against the side—he looked breathtaking. Ripped jeans, black tank top—were those earrings? Your eyes widened. You’d never seen him in glam, but admittedly it suited him. His abs protruding through the soft fabric. He looked like a dream.

He looked like Jimin. Back then.

“Why would you want me in heels?” You whined, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “Please let me change”

He pouted—as he always did, knowing full well you’d never say no to his pretty eyes. “I like knowing you’re dressed for me” You giggled, inviting him inside to sit down.

“God, I want you right now” He looked up at you, hands on your sides, running up and down the silky fabric. Pinching at it. Ready to tear it off of you in a moment. And you knew he could—his biceps flexing, you had almost forgotten how big he was. How strong.

You clicked your tongue, teasing him as you slid his hands off. “You have to get ready for your big night”

Namjoon ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually—can I bring you out on stage? I wrote a new song about you, and was planning to open with it”

You shifted your weight. Clearing your throat in discomfort. You truly had wanted to wait until after the show to talk to Namjoon about your relationship—but this complicated things.

Like a saving grace, Hobi appeared in the doorway. “Your limo is here, let’s go”

You held onto Namjoon’s arm. Taking a deep breath, the two of you stepped outside where cameras were lined up for miles. Lights. Flashing. Your name being called. Shouted. It was dizzying. The limo door was open and Namjoon led you there, allowing you to slide in with ease. The car was gorgeous inside—golden velvet seats, glasses of champagne. So this was the life of a rockstar’s girlfriend.

You were an object. Candy on the arms of someone who mattered.

Namjoon noticed your demeanor change, covering your hand with his. “Like I was saying baby, I really want my fiancée up there with me for my first concert”

The word stuck out like a sore thumb. It made you nauseous to think about. “Namjoon—that wasn’t real” You reminded him cautiously. You couldn’t afford to make him upset, not right now.

Namjoon was taken aback. He looked baffled, hand moving to your wrist. “It was to me. You love me, don’t you?”

Oh God. You paused.

You shouldn’t have paused.

“You love me, don’t you?” He repeated his words. Except his voice was getting loud. The space was getting small. The windows were tainted black. The lights were too dim to see clearly. You licked your lips nervously, carefully trying to pull your hand away from him.

You needed to speak. You had to tell him the truth, but when you looked into his eyes you saw something familiar. Something deranged. Yoongi’s eyes.

“You ungrateful whore” Namjoon’s voice was booming. You’d never heard him yell. Never thought him capable. Your eyes shut, shielding you from his terrifying voice. “Don’t you know everything I’ve done for you? I’m the only one who really knows you—knows what you want. And I became that—look at me Y/n” He grabbed your face, “I am everything you have ever wanted. I’ve been by your side through all of it. I’m the only one who gives you control. I saved you Y/n—I protected you every step of the way. I didn’t know bringing you to Death Valley was putting you in danger but Taehyung promised it would mess with Jimin so I agreed.”

Your eyes flew open. “Wait what?”

“I saved you from the fire Y/n—when Taehyung tried to kill you—it was me! I waited outside of Jimin’s apartment for days, I even tried to break in and get you out. We’ve taken on the world together Y/n. It was always us against them”

Jungkook’s words came back to you again. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.

“You’re saying, you knew Taehyung was behind all of this, from the very beginning? I thought you two had never met”

A panicked look crossed Namjoon’s eyes. He gripped your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “We hadn’t met. Technically”

You rolled your eyes, “Well Namjoon—technically, I didn’t say I loved you. So get the fuck off of me”

He didn’t move, “You can’t be serious Y/n—I’m the reason he hasn’t been able to hurt you. I protected you from him, from Jimin, from Yoo—”

Your phone buzzed. Namjoon tilted his neck in irritation as you clumsily pulled it out. Taehyung? You opened the text—your eyes widened. Namjoon’s eyes narrowed as your breathing came to a sudden halt. Blinking, you put your phone away, meeting Namjoon’s desperate gaze once again.

“Tell them to stop the car”

You could feel him tremble, his nails digging into your flesh. “No”

“It was you. You killed Yoongi—and tried to pin it on Jimin” You shivered in his hold. You couldn’t have another Yoongi in your life. Another man who was willing to shape your environment to have you. To control you. To see you as nothing more than a trophy.

“Yoongi was horrible to you. I did you a favor, baby. I did everything you wanted. You owe me” Namjoon hissed—his hold unwavering. He dove for your lips, roughly snatching them between his. Anguish flooding through his touch. You groaned—unable to move—unable to push him away.

He was so big. His muscular chest pressing against you. His breath hot, mingling with yours. Eyes shut—lost in bliss while yours were wide open. You had never seen more clearly. When had Namjoon become this monster? And had it been your fault all along? Did you do this to him?

As guilt plagued your thoughts, Namjoon took it as an opportunity to go further. Other hand on your thigh, he slipped his fingers under your dress—hooking them around your panties before yanking them both down sharply. The fabric burned against your sensitive skin. But he could care less. His bulge was throbbing, pressed tight against your hole he jerked his hips. The button of his jeans giving a painful relief to your core.

As if awaken from a haze you placed your hands on his chest—attempting to push him away. He smirked at your effort—you couldn’t move him. There was no way. Namjoon was far stronger than you—and you knew that.

With a swift motion of his hand he unbuttoned his pants, allowing his eager cock to spring up. Tugging at it, he looked back into your eyes. You shuddered at what you saw. He was gone. The Namjoon you knew wasn’t in there. He had lost it.

“Wait—” You could barely breathe. The lack of air driving you to a sense of faintness. Weakly you called out his name, hoping you could get to him. Break through to the Namjoon you really knew.

“Don’t fucking act so innocent, Y/n” He hissed, “I know you better than all of them. I know you love this. I know you want to slobber all over my cock, let me bounce you up and down on it until your crying for me. I know you want it to hurt—baby I’ll make it hurt” He tightened his grip. Instinctively your fingers came up to your neck, attempting to pry him off so you could breathe. “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted don’t you see, Y/n? It’s always been me. By your side from the very beginning. I’ve seen it all. Every step of the way. I love you and you love me it’s been us against the world—don’t you see?” His words were incoherent. You were beginning to lose consciousness. At some point Namjoon slid inside you. Lips parted in pleasure, he thrust into you—tight and hard.

Your eyes threatened to close. Mind going blank as the image of him began spotting. You didn’t know who you were wishing to come save you. You were so tired of being saved. Of needing to be.

Weakly you slid your hand up his chest. Over his neck and cupped his cheek. Kiss me—you tried to speak but nothing came out. Namjoon seemed to get the hint though. He let you go and you gasped for air—a short lived effort when he swallowed your lips once again.

His cock burned inside of you, dragging against your walls your pussy trying to push him out but he heathed himself deeper and deeper. It felt good—you hated that it did. You hated that it was him as his lips slid to your neck, sucking love bites across your shoulders.

You felt claustrophobic. You needed air. You needed space—tears began to build in your eyes. Your free hand searched for your phone—fumbling it in your hands as you dialed the name popping up. You felt the device vibrate, and a wave of relief swept over you. You were not going to surrender.

You still had a little fight left in you.

“You didn’t just kill Yoongi” Your fingers found the back of his head. Namjoon looked up—lips swollen, breathing heavily. Eyes blasted with lust and need. “You became him”

Namjoon growled, shifting you with ease until you were on top of him, holding your neck against the car door. You grinned—reaching for the champagne glass you tosses the liquid in his face.

Reflexive, his hands went to his face, wiping the burning alcohol from his eyes and in that moment you rolled aside, opening the car door. It didn’t matter than your panties were hanging from your ankle. It didn’t matter that your neck was bruised.

The car was driving fast. There was no one else around. You could jump.

Weighing your options in your head, you hear a loud engine some ways in the distance. A motorcycle caught up to the limo—the rider, a bed of jet black wavy hair that you recognized all too well. Eyes closed, you took a moment, Namjoon grabbed for you but you kicked him off.

You jumped.

-

Namjoon arrived at the venue, royally pissed off. You ruined his big night—how could you? Were you really that selfish? He knew Jimin would be there. He was ready to put an end to things once and for all. No gun on him—he wasn’t worried. Jimin was small. Jimin was weak. And not nearly as devoted to you as he was. Not willing to go the extra mile to have you.

Ignoring the cameras who plagued him with questions, he pushed past the crowds and marched backstage. His fists trembling, his heart beating fast—blood pumping adrenaline like never before. He was feral. Ready to kill on sight.

Jimin stood backstage, sitting at a mirror and touching up his own makeup. He noticed Namjoon behind him, eyes rolling slightly.

“Good, you’re here” Jimin said, a mocking tone in his voice. Upon closer look, Namjoon could see that Jimin had been removing his makeup. “Hobi has been informed, but I will not be performing tonight. The stage is all yours, asshole.”

Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s arm, “What?”

Jimin chuckled, “You’re such a fucking idiot. Though I suppose all new stars are” He looked him up and down, “Wow, you’re real original aren’t you? Are those my clothes?”

Namjoon swung a punch. Jimin ducked in time. He was no idiot. He knew he couldn’t fight Namjoon.

Luckily, he wouldn’t have to. He had already won.

“Aren’t you wondering where Y/n is?” Namjoon hissed, pacing around Jimin ready to swing at him again.

“I know where she is, Namjoon. I also know what you did to her. And if it were up to me, I’d shoot your sorry ass into the ground right now” Jimin sighed, “But that’s not what she wants. So go out there, and do what you’ve always dreamed of. Leave me and Y/n alone because I swear to you Namjoon—I might leave but I’m always gonna have eyes on you—and I’ll have you dead in an instant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah” Namjoon turned to see Hobi, gun in hand. “It is. Do what you were hired to do, Namjoon. Let her go”

Namjoon screamed, falling to the floor. Jimin and Hobi exchanged amused looks.

“We better get some great songs out of this” Hobi muttered to Jimin. He grinned widely.

One year later.

The warm glow of early morning sun rays filtered through the white curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, a sense of bliss washing over you as you processed your surroundings. Outside the ocean glimmered, waves softly scathing over the shore. Children ran across the sand—couples played in the water. You turned back to see the love of your life lying peacefully, tangled in the white sheets. The comforter hanging off of him, his toned back bare and ever so still. You picked up his shirt from the ground, buttoning it up as you walked over to the window.

A package was waiting for you. A black box, tied neatly with a red ribbon—no indication of who it was from, or where. You noticed the window was cracked open a smidge. Carefully you untied the ribbon, sliding the top off the box to reveal its components.

It was a leather jacket. The jacket. Jimin's jacket.

You look outside, searching—unsure what for. You see a camera on the edge of the building across from yours.

You smile.

Setting it aside, you quickly crawl back into bed, wrapping your arms over Jimin’s back, and pressing kisses all over his neck. He hums softly, unwilling to wake up. You nuzzle against him, before allowing your eyes to fall shut once again. Dreams overtaking you.

series navi | masterlist | scream in my ask box

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading and for being so incredibly patient! i hope this was satisfying <3 i love you all!!

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Briiiiiiiiiick

I splurged bc I suddenly really desperately wanted to explain his scars and talk about my corrupt angel boyyyy

You have been warned

He got blood magic from his dad and healing magic from his mom, but his shadow magic is his own. As for family? No. His father is gone alongside his side of the family, while his mom's family is actually from a mountain village near the city. His mom, Maya (just to give you a special treat, I gave you her name), was disowned by her family for actually giving birth to a dragon's child. Her own mother and father, which would be Irza's grampa and grama, do really miss her, along with a sibling or two. The rest of her family really hates her…but would help her in a heartbeat if they knew she was in trouble. They had to get rid of her to protect themselves, not because they actually wanted to—a couple did but the majority didn't. Irzayn was actually once told by his mom to go to that mountain villain if anything ever happened to her! Did he do it? Nope. But he WILL later on…

Ok onto Irza's shadow. It's very much alive. When he's a child it simply moves around on its own, but it will always save him if he's about to die. If he dies, so does the shadow. It takes until Irza's in highschool for it to develop into having a personality…and can turn itself into the form of a child made of shadows. And guess what? The shadow child looks exactly like Irza. It acts like Irza if he'd never been traumatized too, which makes his shadow actually very kindhearted and loves Irzayn. It feels bad for its master having lived through so much too and is something really fun. Irza can control shadows all on his own. The shadow creature can too. Essentially, the shadow on his body and that he casts on the ground is actually a living creature…so they are separate and connected at the same time. The thing is, Irzayn can fuse with the shadow creature and gain FULL access to the shadows for…until he passes out from exhaustion, basically. It takes time for Irza to accept that help from his shadow though, having thought it would be a weakness to trust even his own shadow until it was absolutely needed.

His blood magic…it's vampire stuff. He can control blood and hypnotize people. The spoiler is that only high ranking vampires have BOTH those abilities with this element, so why did it pass down to him from his dad??

Vara time!! First with something that's both of them halfway through—the scars. He gets those scars from a very very specific event. It takes a lot, and I mean A LOT, to make Vara use his claws, which he purposely files to not hurt others, on someone. It was during the betrayal arc. Vara was cornered and Irzayn wasn't listening…the cat will say he did it in self defense, and he did, but he also did it because he was absolutely enraged that Irzayn didn't believe him. So all that training Irza had been teaching Vara to help him get stronger? He used it in full force against Irzayn. The scar on his face? It actually went from the top of his head to his chin, taking a chunk of Irza's eye out when it happened. He only fixed most of it because of his healing magic, but his healing magic is limited when used on himself and the deepest and most torn parts wouldn't heal…also because he'd focused the healing on his eye and scalp instead…you could see his skull under one part. It's an understatement to say Vara was angry with him. He also has the scars on his legs from the thrones vine grabbing him…he used that vine to yank Irza closer to claw his face.

Vara got his powers from being born. Almost all races get them from just being born, angels are one of the very few exceptions. Vara just happened to inherit sprite magic stronger than beastling, and yes, he only uses the physical enhancement for emergencies because it says too much out of him. He always loses against Irzayn and his only win was the betrayal fight, where he just let loose…he passed out when the fight was over but Irza doesn't know that. The other times he's won were just Irza letting him win to either end it or give his favorite hero credit for chasing off a dangerous villain….Irzayn will absolutely shred any other hero tho, physically, with his claws.

And back to Irzayn, him destroying a city. This happens only a day or so after the betrayal fight. He uses those loops on his outfit to hook himself to his own shadows to keep himself stable, then spreads his immense shadow throughout the entire city. It just creeps across the ground, daylight or no daylight, covering the entire ground surface of the city. Then the shadow seeps into the ground and latches on, tightening and tightening until the earth buckles under the pressure, toppling skyrisers and creating canyons if he does it right. He can quite literally split the earth…the range is determined by how much mana he has and let me tell you, after how much training he's had, just by helping his mom to keep her alive, his mana capacity is extremely huge. The shadows aren't that tiring for him to use unless there's a lot of light. The only thing that happens is he'll run out of mana, but the shadow creature never does. If Void is the one fighting, it can go on much longer than Irza can. And Voidshire was blamed for the city being crushed, 100% his fault. Totally and entirely.

By strength he always wanted, where he beats Ezephr…he actually didn't become a dragon. Even the angel knows to steer clear of a feral shadow dragon. Irzayn manages to gain a physical strength that can kick the shell a tank fires and the ammo will be damaged, not his body. He fights in defense of Vara that day, after the betrayal arc. Oh, and I'd like to add that there was no love between anyone until after the kidnapping event. Vara did fall for Irza before Irza fell for Quickvine tho. Quickvine tracked Voidshire because he was a villain and actual Irza only a handful of times out of worry.

Ezephr! We all love this murderous little prince!

You mentioned the stress of attention but he doesn't feel any of that. He craves attention and entertainment. If you aren't entertaining, he kills you. If you are…hope he leaves before you aren't anymore. And yes. He is an angel. His race is anyway, I would not use that to describe him lol. And…for the most part he does kill just because he wants to. For the most part (mwahahaha, brain torture)

His power…you want to team up on him? You think no-one else has tried? Nope, doesn't work. There's a layer of existence around his body that prevents any and all otherworldly things from passing through, sometimes even some healing magic. The next barrier is his physical strength. You want to have maybe half the power of a nuke in one punch if you want to hurt him. Over analyze him all you want! Definitely do it!

Also, super short answer to all those questions about if Irza can put people in and out of his shadows, what happens when there's light where he's teleporting, and if Vara uses light against him? All of the above, yes. It's hard to say what will happen when light suddenly pops up where he's teleporting but it never hurts him. The heroes do eventually learn to use UV light traps to catch Irza since that sort of light is more potent than others.

Any other questions? :P I'm loving this

And this time I was wise and did not say anything about length....

Every find my story on my blog? The post that has it hasn't been interacted with in any sort of way which is depressing...and there's technically g/t in the story if you count fairies, which are treated quite badly just like goblins and unicorns in their world

WOOO SPLURGE TIME!!! :D

starting off strong with some familial issues- pff could you imagine giving birth to a half-dragon and literally being completely dropped and having to take care of it on your own- when did irza's mom leave his life and was there any like challenges considering he was half dragon? oh oh also do irza's grandparents ever try and reach out to him, or anyone in the family really?

wait wait wait what mountain villain? 👀 IM SO SORRY MY MEMORY IS FADING AWAY SO QUICKLY ATM

did the shadow thing catch irza's mom off guard when it started fucking moving around on its own or was she expecting it? children are creepy enough we don't need a moving shadow added on :')

@smog-frog-0 THE WHOLE SHADOW PARAGRAPH REMINDS ME OF CAT AND LEO IF THEY BEFRIENDED EACH OTHER DSHFSD

that shadow this is cool asf tho- if i had that i'd get startled everytime it moved but STILL i mean it's a subtle hint of inhuman and i like it a lot :D does void ever turn on irza or are they usually just chill with each other?

"having full control of the shadows" — does that entail that theoretically, if he wanted to, he could go into vara's shadow? or say eze's? if so that'd be awesome :0

VAMPIRE PHYSIOLOGY! sooo like could he bite someone and transfer a bit of his abilities (i definitely think not but still that's quite a thought in my head JFDFSJ

ahh i didn't think about that,,,, assume you know the answer to that? alsoo are irza's powers any less powerful because only his dad had them and not his mom?

WOOO CAT BOY!! <3<3

when did irza start training vara? i imagine it'd be as civilians but i don't recall talking about that yet 👀👀

GAHHH A CHUNK OF HIS EYE? SNFJSJ JESUS- AND PART OF HIS SKULL DSXJX BGJDS GORY ASF 3D—

oh my god that is such a good trope i am such a freaking fangirl for vines or tentacles or tails or anything wrapping a person like it might be the g/t lover in me but STILLLLLL it gives me happy chemicals :D <3

was it easy for vara to develop/understand his powers or was it a rocky start?

aha i wonder how big vara's fangroup is cause...if he loses almost every single fight that'd be pretty boring for the news and honestly to see that a villain is repeatedly winning, a. it could lose the attraction of people living there/looking to live there, and b. the hero committee thingy could kick him off (is that a possibility?)

did irza let vara win bc he's fond of vara or bc he had things to attend to and didn't have time to fight-

AHH THE HOOKING HIS SHADOWS THING IS SO COOL I LOVE THAT

he can quite literally split the earth and eze is more powerful than him? that is just—asjdgjsdfkdjgds

DSNFSJD yeah that is definitely on him LMAO

ahhh jeez that is so cool- i love the non-existent limitations in fantasy :D

MM LOVE EZEPHR <333

🎶 i live for the applause, applause, applause 🎶/lyr

of course a guy like him craves the attention, that completely went over my head lmao

"if you're not entertained, he kills you" DSHFJDS THAT CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD,,,,,,

oh gosh i thought the power of friendship would definitely work against him LMAO

oh gosh the barrier thing- he is so overpowered istg i'm not surprised that the power's gotten to his head 😭

i'm calling tubbo and jack to destroy him with their nukes :D (real life example of how i can't go two minutes without referencing my block men </3)

i will someday come up with an analysis on eze that'll make you discover things you didn't even think of (/j, my brain doesn't work that well)

ahhh i see, so he'll just go out of the void state if there's light that pops up?

i covered all the questions SO FAR in this, but that's not to say i won't have more in some future splurges! :D loving this asw, it's awesome to learn about this world >:DD

i haven't found the story yet (i have but i haven't read it yet), but i did find your follow button and your other story so i'm on the right track! i've got like 3 other splurges so gimmie a moment to get to those :]

[patmycheek]

The Family Feud

Dissaya & Ming

Before this episode, I can’t think of a problem big enough to cause both families to hate each other. Like, what could Pat’s dad possibly do to make Pran’s mom hate him and Pat so much. But after ep.10, I think her anger’s pretty justified. 

Back then, Dissaya had worked her butt off. She won competitions, gotten stellar grades, and eventually secured a scholarship to a great university. She could do it bc she had her best friend’s support. The best friend who she knew she could count on, the best friend whom she shared her big dreams with. Even now, it’s hard for girls to get scholarships, I can’t imagine how it was in the 90s. I mean for something as important as that, her teacher didn’t even talk to her about Ming’s accusations.

So, Ming took her scholarship, behind her back. As a patriarchal man himself, imagine how much worse Pat’s akong was. I assume Ming was the first born son in a Chinese family with a family business to continue. He knew his future was set, but he still had expectations to fulfill. So, he convinced himself that he needed it more, that he’d benefit more from his best friend’s scholarship. Dissaya was clever, she could get into other universities. Most importantly, she’d understand. 

i get where he’s coming from, but he’s still a shitty dude. i can’t believe after everything he went through, he still treats his oldest son the same way his father treated him. he should know better.

But it wasn’t just a scholarship, it was the start of a life she’d always dreamed of. The opportunities she could’ve had, the things she could’ve learned, the people she could’ve met. Ming stole it all, her best friend, took it all, and he didn’t have even an ounce of decency to apologize or at least tell her about it. 

I think at one point, Dissaya did try to understand. Ming’s family expected highly of him, maybe he would use the scholarship to get an amazing job, make it far into his future, make his family proud. I think Dissaya started to forgive him at one point too, he was her best friend, she’d wish him a great future. But when she found out all he did was continue his dad’s business, I think her anger grew into hatred. She didn’t understand, and she didn’t want to. She didn’t care what his reasons were (it’s not like he apologized & tried to explain anw). He took her future for nothing.

When Dissaya said this, I feel like she never really hates Pat. I don’t think she believes that she had been teaching her son to hate the children next door. I think she believes she taught Pran to protect himself. Always keep your guard up, stay away from them bc they’re cheaters, they will hurt you. Always do better than your best, always be better than Pat, that way he’ll have nothing to take from you, he can’t hurt you.

She didn’t realize the pressure she’s been putting on Pran. In her eyes, he’s always smiling, always happy. He answers her questions and did the things she asked without complaint. But Pran’s a perfectionist, his things must be perfectly aligned, clean, and put in a certain order. He’s trying to get some control in his life. He’s different from other kids. Maybe Dissaya noticed, maybe she didn’t. But she chose to raise him that way bc in the end, he has to be stronger, smarter, better than the boy next door. It’s the only way he’ll be safe from the pain and betrayal she felt.

When Pran finally tells her they’re dating, I don’t think Dissaya felt hurt. I think she panicked. I mean she can image how bad it feels to be cheated by your friend. But to be betrayed by your lover? She refuse to even imagine her one and only son get so heartbroken.

But Ming, I don’t know why he’s pushing Pat so hard, he’s literally trying to mold him into Ming 2.0. Maybe he’s trying to prove a point, what point, I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to ease his guilt, if his son is the best, then he didn’t do anything wrong. He did what he had to do in order to get to this point in his life, so he can support Pat, his son. His son who’s the best at every sport, every lesson, every art. He did that, he made Pat the best. And he wouldn’t have been able to do that if he didn’t get that scholarship.

Let’s not even get to the saving face & reputation part of the drama. It’s so typical of Asian parents to put their reputations first. But in Dissaya’s case, I can sort of see the root of her stubbornness. I’m the victim. He should apologize to me, he should come to me. Why should I lose to him again? I think she didn’t realize that It’s a battle of pride in the expense of her only child.

Anw conclusion: Ming’s a shit person. I see people saying that he must’ve had a reason. Sure, ok. But I just hate that he’s a coward who didn’t own up to what he did, didn’t even apologize. I mean, what kind of shit answer is this?

He thinks he’s been teaching Pat how to be a man. I hope he knows he’s not even half the man Pat is.

[lunaastoir]

“maybe someday”

childe x gn! traveler! reader

i had this little idea stuck in my head and i had to get it down,,, i’ve been having sm childe brainrot recently and i’d like to chalk it up to the fact that it’s due to his banner but i’m 99% sure it’s bc im a simp 😔🙏

anyways!!! angst down below - enjoy <3

this is set before childe’s story quest

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it wasn’t supposed to go like this. it was a simple errand - the tsaritsa wanted him to check up on things in mondstadt, so he decided to visit zhongli on the way. simple. so, so, simple. right? 

then why was he up on the rooftop of bubu pharmacy, frozen in place, while he watched you laugh merrily down below. he hated to imagine what he must have looked like in that moment; lips parted, azure eyes widened, cheeks softly flushed. the chill of the night air harshly snapped him back to his senses as he mentally chided himself. if he was caught in liyue, he was as good as dead. he couldn’t afford to be distracted, he’s a wanted war criminal after all. quietly cursing, he softly padded his way across the tiles, mentally counting down the distance to the edge of the building. just a little more and he could blend into the mountains while sprinting toward wangsheng funeral parlor. he kept his eyes trained in front of him, refusing to take a good look at you. idiot, idiot, idiot he cursed internally. just a foot more and he would be free. the urge to run at you wouldn’t be so heartachingly strong if he could just cross that foot of distance. 

another loud laugh and he immediately stopped. loudly exhaling through his nose, he struggled with his desires. one last time he whispered. i’ll give myself one last time. his head turned towards you in defeat. azure eyes greedily took in your features, the sweet curve of your lips, the gentleness of the wind against your hair, the twinkling eyes that seemed to reflect the brightness of stars while glistening with mirth. despite the way childe felt his heart wrench, he subconsciously felt the corners of his lips tug into a soft smile. you balanced qiqi in your arms, the little girl softly cuddling into you while holding a bouquet of freshly picked qingxin flowers. the peaceful expression adorning her face as she burrowed into the crook of your neck prompted you to gently run a hand down her back, lulling her to sleep. his smile only grew when he saw how you cared for the girl. you were happy he concluded, from the look of peace on your face. you were whispering in hushed tones to a woman, keqing was it? the wind carried some of your words as he made out “qiqi...qingxin flowers...xiao...was happy...picked more...back” ah. so that’s what happened. a soft giggle left your lips and he watched you slowly start walking back into the bustle of the city, leaving him alone on the rooftop.

the serene expression on his face melted, leaving behind a dull ache in his chest. when he went back to snezhnaya following the acquisition of the gnosis, he couldn’t help but feel... distressed? perplexed? uneasy? no, no those weren’t the words. guilty. that’s what he felt. the guilt gnawed at his insides, growing in size whenever word of liyue reached his ears. not guilt for what he’d done to liyue - don’t mistake him for a righteous man. guilt for what he’d done to you. paimon’s words echoed in his mind, “that’s not how most people make friends is it?” no, it isn’t. he admitted he was unconventional. as a harbinger, it’s his duty to sweet talk others and exploit them to fulfill the tsaritsa’s will. yes, he does occasionally feel bad when something nasty transpires, however, he comes home, wipes the blood off, and does it again the next day. he’s found that not dwelling on the sins of his past keep him sane. but that day, in the icy coldness of his homeland, he felt a different ice than what he was accustomed to. it settled into his bones, and wormed it’s way into his heart. he remembered saying, “i hope we can still be friends” along with the expression on your face when he uttered those words. the betrayal etched with reigned in fury burned it’s way into his mind, searing the consequences of his actions forever. you never were just a friend to him, were you?

childe is many things - a war criminal, a liar, a manipulator, the list goes on. however, dense is not one of them. the minute he could feel himself thinking of you outside of the times you met - when he was doing paperwork at the northland bank, when he got dinner and realized he got your favorite dish, when he picked out a trinket he might like to give to you - he knew he was in over his head. the pit of dread that formed in his stomach only grew with every passing day as he told his subordinates to watch your every move - he needed the location of the exuvia after all. he felt his heart break with every relaxed gesture you made. the roll of your eyes, the hint of a smile when he teased you. he was breaking down your barriers while slowly getting you to trust him - he was accomplishing his goal. but with every “i can’t eat with chopsticks ojou-chan, will you help me” and “i saw this, it reminded me of your smile” he wanted to scream at you to push him away so the inevitable betrayal would hurt less. so he wouldn’t have to live with only the memory of your anguished face forever.

the truth is, it never would have worked out. you wormed your way into his heart in a matter of a few short weeks, where you would reside there for eternity. even if he had broken your walls to the point where you perhaps might have felt the same way, it was over before it began. you were on the tsaritsa’s wanted list, and he was her favorite soldier.

as he finally makes his way over to the edge of the building, tracing his steps onto the mountain, he wonders if you would give him a second chance. if things might be different if he tried again. if you would let him into your life once more, just so he could see you sometimes. 

but he knew, no matter how much he wanted to be yours, he could never have you. for you were the earth, and he was the moon who would always darken your days. 

[danteinthedevildom]

yes! i hate it when people say belphie doesnt care for mc, this is a personal opinion but i feel like even if we werent related to lilith (and somehow we came to life again) he would be close to us, and try. seeing how the people he cares about the most react to someone he thought was just a human dying would probably push him to get to know MC. i know some people also think and argue that beel sees MC as a replacement for lilith too; but i know 100% he doesnt, he hasnt been able to verbally talk about his sisters passing to anyone, i mean almost right after she died belphie was taken away and beel assumed he was in the human world on "buisness", so for beel to openly talk about lilith with us as much as he does it feels special. i know he sees mc as their own person because of how much hes able to share with us, beel talking with mc about his feelings means hes able to finally move on, not to say that he'll forget about her, but he knows hes ready to finally stop beating himself up for it yk? i feel like people were also conflicted about seeing belphie as someone who cares for mc, especially the 180 he does when he finds out we're liliths relative; but belphie has had so much trauma, seeing the person he loved the most die, being separated from his brothers for years and years, etc. he was locked away with his mental illness for a long time, the anger bottled up and he took it out on mc, of course it explains it but it doesnt excuse it, you can still continue to hate belphie idc but i feel like he loves mc more than the other brothers do because of it, its the same thing with beel, mc allowed both of them to cope and talk to them about their sisters passing, yk?

Honestly the whole of Chapter 16 and associated fallout is p. controversial simply bc of it being us that it happens to; the game's written for us to imprint on the MC, and because of that, some scenes - like Belphie's betrayal and his glee at having killed MC - becomes very, very personal. It's very easy after that to become biased against a character, because there's genuine emotional scarring that we're left with as players that the game then just... fails to acknowledge to its fullest. (Which is why we get so many "MC might have forgiven Belphie but I haven't" fics on AO3.)

But to say that Belphie doesn't care for MC is just. Wrong. And I can def. get your annoyance on that!

He didn't care for MC to begin with, yes; MC was a random human he knew nothing about, a ticket to freedom and the first step into enacting revenge for something he's carried with him for millenia. They didn't matter to him outside of that because he never got to see them - or spend actual time with them - outside of the short visits they could afford to update him on their pact progress. That's undeniable.

But to say that he still doesn't ignores the entire point of the Lilith revelation. Being related to her gives Belphie something to connect with MC over. It gives him a reason to overcome his hatred of humanity and to bond with MC in general - which is selfish, yes, and kind of shitty, true, but so much of Belphie's (admittedly misplaced) anger comes from being a survivor of an incredibly one-sided war and (arguably, in his mind) the reason Lilith died to begin with. Because Beel saved him instead of her.

It's not like any of them were ever given a good way to cope with the trauma of the Fall, or Lilith's death. It's not like any of them even knew her actual fate until Chapter 16. Belphie's way of coping was to become apathetic, and to try and place the blame onto something he could take action against.

To him, that meant humanity. Because she fell in love with a human. Because they'd already fought God and lost, so he wasn't going to get closure there - but maybe ending the cause for her death would help the hurt.

He hated humans because of Lilith. In the realm of good story-telling, the best way to end that hatred is likewise through Lilith. Stories are best when they have that cyclical nature to them - especially since it can then transition into Belphie overcoming his trauma (and Lilith's death) through humanity.

So, yeah; it's a selfish reason to get close to someone, to take back the really horrific thing you were going to do, but all of Belphie's anger stemmed from the Fall and what he perceived as her death. Finding out that she didn't actually die? That she became human - became the very thing he wanted to destroy - and lived out a long life? That she had children, and that her family line is still alive in MC? Of course that's going to stop him dead in his tracks. And of course he's going to want to get close to MC, the last remaining fragment of the sister he's dedicated his entire life post-Fall mourning.

Belphie's an incredibly apathetic character by nature. He doesn't care about a lot of things, and everything he cares about is overshadowed by how much he loves Lilith. He needs that connection to get him out of his natural apathy. He cares about Lilith above all else; he'll care about MC at the drop of a dime if they're anything to do with her.

But that's not a bad thing. It means there's an opportunity for him to genuinely get to know who MC is, in a positive light.

It's an opportunity for him to try and make a connection with MC that simply wouldn't have existed otherwise, and through them, to finally, finally put his memory of Lilith to rest. And he does! He gets to know MC, gets to know why Beel adores them so much - outside of just being "Lilith's descendant" - and ends up loving them for who they are.

He puts his hatred of humanity and his single-minded attachment to Lilith behind him, and he still cares for MC. He wouldn't do this if he'd really not formed some sort of bond with them before that point. If he only cared for them because they're a fragment of Lilith, then they'd mean nothing to him once Lilith wasn't such a fervent part of his daily life.

I think the game's just... really bad at showing that, however. You put it really well when you called it a 180, because in all honesty? The game glosses over it much too quickly, and doesn't do a totally good job explaining the logic behind why he'd change his mind so fast.

There's not enough time spent on allowing MC - and the player - to overcome the emotional wreckage of Chapter 16 + fallout. We're not given the chance to process it before Belphie has, to build up a natural relationship with him that transitions slowly from him seeing MC as a Lilith-connection to him seeing them as their own, defined person. It's way too easy to still be emotionally hung up on it while he seems perfectly fine and dandy.

On your bit abt him overcoming it even without the connection to Lilith - I agree tbh! There is a lot Belphie would do for Beel, and I genuinely think seeing how against him Beel is after killing MC, even if they're brought back to life, would ruin him. Belphie being locked up, trying to convince Beel that he was doing the right thing, only for Beel to disagree with him and show genuine anger/disgust, would knock the world from under his feet. If he thought trying to hurt MC would make him lose Beel too - if Beel pleaded with him to just play nice, because he can't choose between them both, not again - he'd likely (albeit begrudgingly) postpone his intended revenge plot.

And he'd try to stay bitter, and for a long time he likely would - but then he'd see how happy Beel is with MC around, and how much it means to Beel that they seem to get along, and how much Beel opens up to them about Lilith, and he'd start to... reconsider. Just a little. Just a bit. Moment by moment, day by day, until he realises that MC isn't a replacement for Lilith, but that they bring something to the table that the brothers have been missing for a long, long time.

Which would afford Belphie the moment of catharsis; where he finally, on a quiet night, opens up about the Fall. How he felt, how angry he is, how helpless. How much he misses her, how the pain and hurt consumes his every thought. And then the player would get the chance to overcome the emotional strain with Belphie, showing him that his anger shouldn't be aimed at humanity when his Father is the one at fault, and Belphie, very quietly, admitting that they're right.

It could work, and work well. It's just a point of finding - and hitting - the right story beats.

On the topic of Beel - honestly, the concept that he sees MC as a replacement for Lilith is just... I personally couldn't imagine it. I can see how someone else could - being her descendant, the attic sandwich club, their little escapade together once Belphie's back in with the family - but that includes seriously misreading/ignoring a lot of Beel's character arc/development.

Beel talks to MC about Lilith and Belphie way before he knows anything about their relation to her. He sees a lot of her in them, yes - he mentions this a few times, I think, in relation to little things they do - but he also sees a lot of what he wants to be in them - which is best seen in their ability to defend both himself and Luke, which be very subtly compares to his own inability to save both Lilith and Belphie.

To Beel, MC stands as something a little idealised. MC is everything good he saw in Lilith (as well as some of the things he loves most about Belphie), and everything he wishes he could have been. MC is a reason to be better, stronger, more capable - both so he can protect them the way they protect others, and so he can feel as if he's on their level.

But that doesn't mean he sees them as a replacement to the people he's lost. It's arguable that he's projecting, sure, I'll admit that; he sees things he misses most of the people he's lost in MC, and I'm sure forming a bond with them helped him cope while he was without Belphie. But MC is still always MC to him. They're always still their own person, and someone he cares for because of that fact.

Beel cares too much about his family to replace them with someone else. Lilith meant too much to him as a person for him to look at MC and actually see Lilith. He misses her, not the idea of her. He feels guilt that he couldn't save her. His trauma revolves almost entirely around the failure of (self imposed) duty and the subsequent loss of life. His Survivor's Guilt is the main reason Beel can't put her memory to rest - because he's constantly haunted by the thought that he could have saved her.

His trauma, the way it is, does not create a setting where he would believably see MC as a replacement for Lilith. He's all too aware that she's gone. He's all too aware that he lost something he can never get back that day. Her memory is special to him, and being unable to talk about her hurts him because that's a bit like killing her off for good.

MC can't replace Lilith, even being Lilith's descendant, and I genuinely can't believe that Beel would even want them to. He's so defensive over Belphie and Lilith, even just over the memory of them; to suggest that MC could replace one of them I feel would anger him more than anything. Not only because it's an insult to Lilith, but because it's an insult to the person MC is. To the person Beel admires.

With just how much he cares about Lilith, I think Beel's enhanced attachment to MC is more the steadfast defence of her lineage to make up for what he couldn't do for her. He still sees MC as their own person, it's just that now... now he has a chance to make up for what he failed at before. And bit by bit, he can learn to forgive himself. Can learn to stop blaming himself for something that was never his fault to begin with.

Belphie and Beel have a special relationship with MC because MC is a direct link to Lilith that helps them overcome their individual Lilith-related traumas. They're naturally going to be closer to MC due to this, yeah, but that's... not the only reason they're close to MC. To try and push down everything they feel and do with MC to "it's only because MC is Lilith's descendant" is to. Well. A) make an incredibly unsatisfying story and character development, but also B) completely ignore that MC helps them bury the memory Lilith. MC helps them move on. Their care and love for MC is what helps them finally let go - to stop living in the past, in hurt, and to finally take a step forward to a future without the weight of Lilith's death constantly burdening them.

Like. If Solmare had just spend a little more time on these two, that might be clearer. Because it's definitely there! And it's why I love Belphie and Beel so, so much. But it's also fully understandable why some players still really dislike Belphie, or why they're not convinced that Belphie/Beel see MC as anything outside of Lilith, bc the game does kind of fail on that a little by rushing a bit too much. Just. Aagh!! You know?

I could honestly go on abt them for hours. So I should prolly stop here before I go on too long adfgh.

[msbrightsides]

The Betrayal in COI

So Cassie has been promoting Chain of Iron w the tag line “you never forget your first betrayal” and I’m thinking about who could be betraying whom. I’m gonna theorize some possibilities, please lmk your thoughts on this!!! note: I hate pretty much all of these ideas personally bc it’s gonna be so painful so please don’t take this as what I want to happen

Lucie: someone betraying Lucie wa s the inspiration for this post bc she’s the cover star and will likely lead this book a bit more than she did in ChoG.

Jesse: it hurts my heart to write this but maybe Jesse knows more than he lets on? Maybe him withholding information about Tatiana’s activities causes someone to get hurt or killed, and Lucie blames him for it. Maybe Jesse gave his last breath to James and knew/later learned that it was part of Belial and Tatiana’s plans to get James under their control

Grace: my theory is that Lucie and Grace get kinda close but then she throws Lucie under the bus about resurrecting Jesse, which would fit into other theories about Lucie losing her Marks for necromancy. This could also tie into the same reasoning as Jesse, where Grace knows more than she says about the murderer and Lucie finds out. Also, once Lucie knows about the gracelet and how it’s being used to control her brother, she’s probably going to be real pissed with Grace.

Cordelia: this is the betrayal that would hurt Lucie the most I think. Maybe whatever strange power Cordelia swore an oath to compelled her to hurt Lucie and she had to comply for some reason.

James: he has a shortlist of people who are currently doing him dirty, but maybe there’s others?

Grace: this one’s obvious, since she’s emotionally manipulating him for her own needs and he still hasn’t realized yet. I’m not sure how forgiving he’ll be no matter her reasons.

Lucie: Lucie secretly doing necromancy with Grace behind everyone’s back probably won’t go over well with him. And since Jesse, James, and Belial are probably all tied together somehow, maybe Lucie forces James to help.

Matthew: we all have a bad feeling about Matthew’s future, so maybe he’ll try to make the loss of their parabatai bond “easier” by hurting James beforehand. Or he lets on that he’s in love with Cordelia and this compounds the complicated emotions James already feels

Cordelia: *see mysterious oath to mysterious being. Maybe Cordelia’s intention will be to help him but he doesn’t see it as helpful or it backfires and is definitely harmful

Cordelia: there are quite a few people who may betray her for personal gain or to weaken her and James and cause mayhem

Lucie: Lucie’s secrets with necromancy and working with Grace may eventually come back to Cordelia. She’d probably be upset she’s working w the one who’s disrupting her love life, but more that their actions will probably have serious consequences that will probably impact Cordelia.

James: he’s already on thin ice since the gracelet makes him unaware of his true love for her, but he’ll probs do more stupid stuff bc of it and cause tension between them. Also him possibly being the murderer may be a source of contention.

Matthew: we know that they become closer friends in this book and confide in each other, so maybe Matthew makes some self-sacrificing decision and uses something Cordelia told him in confidence against her. His idea of “softening the blow” once he’s “gone”

Elias: I think Cordelia already feels a little betrayed by him since she had no idea he was an alcoholic her whole life and is definitely conflicted about him coming home. We know that he makes a shocking demand of James, and maybe that demand is insulting to Cordelia in some way. Maybe he admits something to her about his trial that comes as another shocking revelation, or does something while drunk that is unforgivable

There are others that may suffer from a betrayal of some kind but I only have one or two possible people for them so maybe if there’s interest I’ll make a separate post? This ones long enough for now but I would love any and all thoughts!!!

[fl0ating-tree]

Fanfic prompt: everyones first visit to Dream in the prison (specifically Puffy, Sapnap, Punz, George, and/or Niki)

OOH i really hope we get to see these actually happen because my heart is gonna snap when it does happen. im gonna do george + sapnap and puffy bc this would be super long if I did them all. 

george is probably OOC because we don’t really have an example of how he is when he’s in character. also fair warning for puffy’s part, it might come off as a little c!dream sympathetic. that’s not the intention, it’s more to show how even dream still has emotions even thought he’s awful, but if that stuff really upsets you maybe don’t read puffy’s part. it’s barely there but still. 

George and Sapnap

Sam rarely stood guard outside of the prison. After all, it’s inescapable and he’s the only one with access. After locking Dream away Sam reassured them all that he built safety features in that no one but him, not even Dream, knew about. Sapnap called him paranoid when Sam told him that over lunch one day, now he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Sam asks as he leads both Sapnap and George towards the only occupied cell. “He’s...he’s not exactly fun to be around at the moment.” Sapnap cringes at that. He feels bad that Sam is the one who has to bring Dream food and water, but no one else was particularly jumping at the opportunity to be around Dream after what happened. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Punz’s panicked urges for him to find anyone on the server and meet up at the Nether hub. How Punz led them through the Nether in full sprint, giving them all the vague explanation of “Dream is going to kill Tubbo and lock up Tommy” and nothing else. Sapnap wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t walk in on Dream laughing at a despondent Tommy, holding a sword to Tubbo’s neck. Seeing the walls lined in trophey cases labeled for his friends and allies belongings (and even loved ones, was Dream really going to put Skeppy in a cage just to get to Bad?) 

“Sapnap?” Sam asks again after Sapnap doesn’t respond. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Sapnap shakes his head and continues walking, glancing at George to his left, “I’m sure.” George says nothing and continues walking. He hasn’t said anything since he logged on asking where Dream was. It took an hour of nearly everyone on the server telling George what happened for him to believe it. Even after everything Dream had done, George was still loyal to a fault. 

“George?” Sapnap presses and George’s shoulder stiffen.

“I need to see him for myself,” George says flatly and Sam and Sapnap share a look before continuing down the halls. Sam brings them through locked doors, redstone contraptions, pad locks after pad locks and at some points he even has George and Sapnap be blindfolded so they can’t see the inner workings. Sapnap was worried, as were others, that Sam would betray them and simply let Dream escape. But the fury in Sam’s eyes when he saw the cage built for Fran, when he heard Dream blew up the Community House, that squashed any thoughts of betrayal still lingering. 

“Wait here,” Sam tells them and Sapnap can smell redstone lighting and pistons firing before Sam’s now muffled voice calls out to them. “You can take off the blindfolds now,” he calls and they both do.

Before them is a large blackstone box, the wall between the cell and the corridor being made of obsidian enforced glass (Sapnap didn’t even know that was possible to make until Sam told him about it.) It was well lit and inside the cell was a decent looking bed, a door in the far corner presumably leading to a bathroom, a desk with papers and blunt markers, a round table with only one chair, and lastly, Dream. All things considered the cell was nice, nicer than Dream deserved, but Dream himself looked terrible. His mask was gone, destroyed by Tommy, and it made him so...human. Out of the corner of his eye Sapnap could see George studying Dream as well. His clothes were disheveled, deep bruises still on his face from his fight with Tommy and Tubbo, and where there was a normally calm and sophisticated aura surrounding him, Sapnap saw nothing but unjustified anger. 

“You’ve got visitors,” Sam says unnecessarily from where he stands by the lever to open the cell. George flinches at how detached Sam sounds. The normally kind and bright man sounded almost disappointed in Dream. 

“Yay me,” Dream snaps back, it’s Sapnap who flinches this time.

“You two wanna go in, or just talk through the glass?” Sam asks and Sapnap looks to George for an answer. He doesn’t give an answer, only stepping closer to the glass. Dream leans up from his relaxed position on the bed, intrigued. 

“I’ve gotta say Gogy this is probably the biggest thing you’ve slept through yet,” Dream teases, his voice friendly and open and Sapnap hates how badly it makes him want to break Dream out of this terrifying prison and pretend like nothing bad has ever happened.

“Were you really going to kill Tubbo?” George asks, voice quiet and void of emotion.

“Why do you care?” Dream growls, and Sapnap remembers why he can’t pretend like this is the Dream from months ago that he built the community house with, “You never gave a fuck about what was happening before, why do you care now? Cause Sapnap told you to care?” The mockery in Dream’s voice builds tension in George’s shoulders.

“He’s 17, Dream,” George’s voice is thick and Sapnap takes a step forward, having his own questions for Dream. 

“Why did you do any of it?” Sapnap asks, “Taking everything everyone loves? Controlling Tommy, trying to kill Tubbo, why did you do it?” 

“None of you get it!” Dream screams and even Sam jumps in surprise, “This is my server! I’m in control here, not Tommy, not Tubbo, no one but me!” Seeing Dream this...lost, this out of his element, without the mask is unsettling. His face is too raw, too many emotions on display from the man Sapnap always knew as calm and collected and one step ahead. Sapnap turns away, not baring to see his once best friend so far gone. 

“I’ve seen enough,” Sapnap tells Sam quietly, and the man nods. He guides Sapnap towards the exit, the two of them glancing back when George doesn’t follow. Dream seems to notice as well.

“Not gonna follow them Gogy?” He laughs, crazed and maniacal and hauntingly similar to a certain dead president. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” George snaps, voice fierce and shoulders tense. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.” 

The three of them say nothing else as Sam leads them out of the prison, even as Dream’s screams echo down the hallway and echo in their minds for the rest of the night. 

Captain Puffy

It started out as a joke, if Puffy was being honest. Dream had followed her around one day, carrying extra supplies for her, listening to stories of her old pirate adventures, and helping her with her daily tasks. She’d later find out that he was having a really terrible week, stressed from events he wouldn’t disclose (she’d later find out about those “events” as well, to her disgust) and not wanting to talk to anyone but needing something to occupy himself. Puffy joked around, calling him her “duckling” and let him continue doing it. It helped her and him, so she found no harm in it.

Months passed with their small routine. Dream would have a bad day or simply not want to be around the others (Puffy would, again, find out later that it was more that others didn’t want to be around him) so he would follow her around, helping out with her daily tasks or just spending the day with her. It reminded her so much of one of the younger boys on her long abandoned crew, cured a small amount of homesickness, and slowly it became less of a joke and more of a true friendship. The day Dream slipped up and called her mom, even thought she’s only two years older, used to be one of her favorite memories. Emphasis on used to be. 

She was hesitant when she heard rumors of Dream’s villainy. This was Dream they were talking about, the kind guy who came to her when he had a bad day and helped her with anything she asked. She saw him build up those walls around L’manberg, and she heard the murmurs of how he wouldn’t let anyone go see Tommy in his exile, but she passed them off as hyperbolic or flat out lies. She wonders if she was more attentive to what Dream was doing could she have prevented some of this pain. She doesn’t think she’ll ever recover from seeing Dream, her duckling, seconds away from killing a child and further traumatizing another. 

“We’re here,” Sam tells her solemnly as she hears pistons move and unties her blindfold. She could care less about how the cell looked, or how impressive the redstone was. All she could focus on was Dream, standing close to the glass, looking terrible. His mask was gone, showing his emotions clear as day. His eyes screamed sadness and anger and betrayal all in one. His hair was tangled and there was still some blood matted in it from where Tommy had fought him. His shirt was wrinkled and he didn’t even have any shoes. He was simply stood looking heartbroken and entirely human in this cell and it took ever ounce of willpower in Puffy to not cry to Sam to let him out. He looks nothing like the monster who manipulated and controlled others, he looked like her Dream, her duckling, her friend. 

“Dream...” Puffy starts but the words die on her tongue. 

“Puffy, please,” Dream starts and without the mask she can see tears welling in his eyes, “I know it looks bad but you know how bad these past months have been for me, you’ve always been there for me, you have to understand.” 

“I don’t...” the air in the room feels suffocating, “Dream I saw it with my own eyes. I saw it with my own eyes. How could you?” She watches as anger overrides Dream’s eyes but a mournful look still stays on his face.

“Puffy, Cara, you know me,” Puffy can’t hold back her sob when Dream uses her real name. The only other person she told that was Niki, and after their recent fight over what to do with Tommy, Puffy really didn’t want to think about Niki right now. “You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have a reason. I’m doing what’s right, I’m making sure there’s no more fighting. You’re smart, you know me, I wouldn’t do this.” 

Puffy looks at Sam who looks an awful combination of guilty, furious, and depressed. Sometimes she forgets Sam has been here since the beginning. She wonders if Dream has always been evil, if he was always this manipulative, in the beginning. 

“When you would help me,” Puffy starts, still not looking at Dream, “when you were my duckling, was that just a cover? Was that just you trying to use me, too?” She turns back to meet Dream’s eyes, the mask no longer there to hide the way his eyes scream that he’s lying. His face is a dead give away for what he’s doing, Puffy wonders if that’s why he always wore the mask. 

“No, Cara,” Dream lies through his teeth, “I’d never use you, I promise. You have to believe me.” 

The three of them stand in silence, Dream leaning on the glass with fake tears in his eyes and real tears in Puffy’s. Sam is deathly quiet in the corner of the room, watching and not intervening. Puffy can’t tell if she appreciates that or not. What she can tell is that she can’t stand to look at Dream another minute. 

“I really did care about you, Dream,” she wipes her tears on her sleeve and turns to Sam, “I’m done.” Sam just nods and leads Puffy towards the exit. 

“Puffy, please! I wouldn’t do this, don’t you see it!” Dream pleads, voice morphing from sorrow to anger, “I did what I had to! Puffy listen to me! CARA!” 

Sam still says nothing as he sets a steadying hand on Puffy’s shoulder as she sobs, guiding her out of the prison and away from her duckling. 

[zuzu-hotman]

Ready To Love Pt.3 [[Zuko]]

Pairing: Zuko x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst as always, loves. 

A/N: I’m glad to see the notes on my fics, I read them and smile <3 Anyways... hope I did her justice. I didn’t want to make her a villain or  too ooc. Then again, the show never gave us too much of her. I’d have done more with her and hopefully allowed her to express herself a bit too. ((Also the lyrics ive been using are from a song, but they’re out of order bc of how I want them to fit. This set is specifically tied to her, not reader))

Pt.1, Pt.2

“ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ..”

Staring blankly at the ceiling of her room is where she’d found herself stuck for hours at a time. Her face remained blank as ever but deep inside her emotions were starting to stir up. Deep inside she began to hurt- the kind of hurt that can sometimes be hard to mask or ignore.

Not that that fact stopped her from doing it. She’d be damned if she allowed herself to falter.

She hadn’t expected her words to really push him to make such a choice. To this extent of utter betrayal- if she was honest, she’s not sure what she expected. She only knew what she hoped for and she hated that she allowed herself to do something so stupid.

Hope? That’s something Ty Lee would do. She is not Ty Lee. Not by a long shot- yet she still did something so foolish. She still had hoped he’d turn around- come to his senses and realize.. realize what? Who was she to say what he should feel when she couldn’t even control what she felt? She wanted to be angry, wanted to just.. gut punch him the next time she saw him.

Sure, she’s the one that pushed him away but.. she wanted a different outcome. She just wanted... something else- but she also wanted him to not be so miserable. It was clear he wasn’t happy here. It was clear he had many regrets in regards to how he was able to come back.

She wanted him to be happy- she didn’t want to be used.

What she got in return was some stupid letter- just some dumb letter. All this time spent- all this nonsense. Years spent wishing he’d be allowed back home or that he’d at least speak to her without anyone else around and all she gets is a letter.

She gets this and what does the other girl get? Some low-class peasant not even of full Fire Nation blood? She gets to be around him- be with him if the circumstances are right.

She wants to be angry at them both- but is it right to? Is any of this right?

She continues to question herself as the time passes. Even as she gets a golden opportunity to tear right into him- to go off- to have him suffer.

“I’m sorry.”, he says, gently so. “I shouldn’t have- it was never my intention to hurt you like that. To just.. use your feelings. I thought I was where I was supposed to be.”

She makes a face, “Yeah. Your letter sounds so very sorry. You betrayed the nation for one peasant-”

“I didn’t betray my nation! I’m saving it- it’s not just about you or her and.. she’s not a peasant.”, his last words hit her harder. He didn’t say them any different. He was just quieter. Defensive. “Even if she was, it would mean that a peasant has more class than any of us.”

That stung a bit- if only because she wanted to be the one he defended so passionately. To be truly loved by him... what must that feel like.. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”, she says, “You betrayed her too. You’re just full of bad choices.”

It was a low blow and she knew it. It almost hurt her to say it but she was so angry-

“I know. I’m trying to right them. Even if I don’t get what I’m hoping for.”

“You think fixing them by hurting others is what will work? You-”

“I’m not trying to hurt anyone! I haven’t hurt anyone else back there but you and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you face to face. I’m sorry all you got was a piece of paper. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was wrong to do what I’ve done! I’ve been wrong for a long time but I’m trying! I know just apologizing isn’t enough but right now I have other things to deal with! This war is literally life or death for the whole world!”, he takes in a deep breath, “Mai. I really am sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have gone out with you when I knew deep down it wasn’t what I truly wanted. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

She had to turn away from him, to look away to readjust the mask she kept constantly. It couldn’t fall, not here and now. She’s silent for a bit before speaking again, “You better right things with her or I’ll never forgive you.”

She had said it quietly, and continued to speak it though a guard had burst through the door. She can’t be sure if he heard her or not, even though the look he gave her as he shut the door held the answer.

Mai had made her decision. It was final and clear. Enough to shock a friend she thought held her dear.

Azula was starting to derail- she couldn’t see what she was becoming.

“You miscalculated. I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

“No you miscalculated! You should have feared me more!”, she shouts, readying for an attack, “He doesn’t even love you- you dare betray me for something so shallow?! He’s all about that peasant!”

“I know. I’ll get over it eventually.”

Mai braces herself, readying a counter attack despite knowing Azula’s bending is more powerful. Azula has always been precise- she shot the Avatar down without blinking. She-

A raw gasp broke through her inner thoughts.

Ty Lee.

“C’mon we gotta get out of here!”

It was no use though. Guards surrounded them instantly. They would be prisoners for now, thrown into the farthest cell away from Azula. Mai wanted to say it hurt, crazy or not, Azula was once her friend. However Azula is not who she was. Her use of fear wasn’t right or fair.

It hurt, but not as badly as it should- at least not on her end..

Three long nights. Zuko had left for three long nights and something had told you it wasn’t for food. Deep in your gut you knew it wasn’t. He wouldn’t have looked at you like that the night before he left if it was just some trip. His absence gave you time to think. To be a bit more rational- calmer, in deciding if you even want to hear him out. He’d tried to do so a few times before he left, but in your anger you ignored him.

What if you never saw him again? What if this was just a trip, would you feel differently? Or were you looking for a reason to justify talking to him. A reason better than simply wanting to.

You couldn’t deny you were weak for him.

When he finally returned, you learned he traveled to a high security prison with Sokka. To find his Dad and within that time he’d also found his girlfriend Suki.

Something like that could not be fake- risking your own life in a high security prison- in a nation you betrayed.. for someone you’d only just grown to be friendly with?

Zuko was changing, you felt it. You had pure proof of it and oh how you begged for it to be true. To be hurt a third time? There would be no coming back from it.

“Zuko.”, you whisper while he stands off to the side.

He flinches but turns to look at you. Shock covers his face,”..yes?”

“...Let’s talk..”, you say, and finally, you reach for him. You lightly but hesitantly take his wrist. He lets you lead him to wherever you need to go.

In all the happy reunions, no one notices you two disappearing into the night.

“ Bᴇғᴏʀᴇ I ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ?”

Pt.4

[evansbby]

“this book is so good and the themes are so apt and the author is a genius and I don’t know how to explain this so it is overwhelming me” type of feeling//

You’re literally reading my mind rn because this is exactly how i felt!! Like I remember after reading tbosas again a few months ago, I just sat there on my bed staring at the wall for like 10 minutes because I didn’t know what to do with myself😭😭 I wish I could go back and read it for the first time tbh. But I absolutely LOVED Lucy, and I felt so bad for her, you have no idea😭 My baby deserved better. I legitimately cried when I was nearing the end of the book because I was also so delusional, telling myself that Snow and Lucy would have a happy ending together when I KNEW that Snow never deserved her and that he was so toxic. I do think Snow loved Lucy at some point but he thought he was weak for loving her, and that BROKE me😭

And don’t get me started on Sejanus because I’ll start crying again if I think about him. I literally cried for like 10/15 minutes bc I felt so bad! Shit was so intense I could feel it in my chest. I still don’t know how Snow could betray him like that just for power, especially after making Sejanus believe they were best friends since they were kids. Props to Suzanne Collins on how she described their relationship because I bawled my eyes out reading about his death, and especially his last words💔💔💔

I have to stop myself otherwise, I’ll start ranting and then I’m going to cry thinking about the last 100 pages or something😭😭 But do you also just feel this pang of hurt in your chest everytime you think about Lucy or Sejanus because my heart hurts for them. And just this overwhelming feeling of betrayal. I can’t😭😭😭

(Also thank you🩷🩷 Exams are stressing the shit out of me but thank god it’s done now🥲 I legit almost started crying when I was walking to the lecture hall)

-🌺

No please now I’m getting emotionally invested all over again 😭😭

Sejanus WAS Snow’s best friend, whether Snow wants to admit that or not. Snow always inwardly hated him but based on his behaviour towards Sejanus, he was literally the only one who acted like a friend to him (up until the end… when you really think the two of them have bonded low-key despite Snow inwardly still scorning him… you still think they’re sort of bffs now… and then the betrayal is so awful and hits so hard 😭😭🥲🥲)

I’m literally the same as you! After I finished tbosas I just started at my wall and my heart hurt so much 😭😭 bc how could a person be SO CRUEL??! To the girl he loved no less??? The whole third act is so cute like when Snow and Lucy reunite in the meadow??? The same Katniss and Peeta meadow??? 😭😭😭😭 I thought it was so cute and ugh!!! The parts of Lucy and Snow in district 12 is my fav part of the whole book!

But also… it’s crazy how possessive Snow was in his narration. Always calling her “his girl” and just AHHHH I really thought she could change him 😭😭😭😭😭 and their first kiss 🥲🥲🥲 BUT IT WAS NEVER REALLY LOVE FROM HIS END, JUST A NEED TO POSSESS HER AND I HATE THAT! Bc I low-key think a part of him truly loved her and he squashed that out bc he thought it made him weak 😭😭😭

And yes I do feel the pang of hurt when I think about those two. That whole book’s last part makes me feel sick.

I URGE ANYONE WHO HASNT READ TBOSAS TO PLEASE READ IT!!!