#they both got things to work through I fear

[yanderedrabbles]

Imagine being a lady out in the Wild West, mayor's daughter, preacher's niece, something good and proper. All tight laced and demure on Sundays, sweet and pretty all week 'round.

You got plenty of admirers. Cowpokes drifting through your small town who promise themselves that the second they've got more than dirt to their name, they're coming back to marry you. Traders and tradesman who see you in your Sunday best and think how sweet it would be to have you waiting at home for them. And others too. Men with too sharp eyes and hats kept low. They think about you too, but always at night. Always with one hand slick.

You've got plenty of folk with eyes on you, but no real suitors. Whoever your guardian is, they've got high standards. Maybe your father is hoping for a good political match, or your uncle is looking for a God fearing man. Either way, you're untouchable. Untouched.

Well, until you ain't.

Maybe the man who takes you is one of those hard eyed drifters, with a mean mustang and an even meaner right hook. A crook in everything but name. Maybe he doesn't work alone, and it's a whole pack of them who grab you straight out of your backyard, hands pressed against your mouth so hard they leave bruises on your cheeks.

Either way, they've got just about one thing on their mind. And they don't want to be interrupted.

They take you out to the desert, or out into the deep woods, or far into the canyons. Somewhere lonesome. Somewhere they can take their time with you.

Maybe they succeed. Get to keep you all to themselves. A prize too sweet for men like them, a little missy who would always be out of reach if they didn't take matters into their own hands. Their hands are rough with labour - wrangling and gunslinging and digging graves for folk that wouldn't otherwise need them. And rough with you, too. Skimming up your thighs, prying them apart...

That's what folk would call a bad ending. Would shake their heads over and secretly pray that it never happens to one of their girls.

Maybe they succeed. Or maybe, just maybe... they don't.

See, the sheriff of your town is a hard man. White hat always clean, badge always shiny, but his gun is nicked with use, his spurs dull with hard riding. And when he hears what happened, it ain't long before he's on your trail. Pushing his stallion until it's frothing under the saddle. Hoping to get to you before night time. Before the sun goes down and the lust comes out.

He finds you easy enough, but it's just him against a gang and that ain't no easy win. He watches them from a distance, from up on the canyon maybe, or from between the thick trees. Sees you sitting at their campfire, hands and feet tied, pretty white dress stained with mud.

He sees that and thinks how he'd rather eat lead than see them stain the rest of you so dirty.

It ain't easy. It takes planning, skill. He lures them out one at a time and picks them off. Knife between the ribs, arrow straight through the neck, a wire pulled taught and tight around their throat. Until it's just him and the leader left - the man who chose to take you, the one who'd have gotten the prime cuts when it came to butchering your innocence.

It could go either way at this point. The sheriff ain't no slouch but the gunslinger is younger, hungrier. Folk would say the good guy should win, that justice ought to come out on top, and that you deserve your happy ending. But the truth is that they're both rotten to the core.

'Cause it ain't duty that made the sheriff ride his horse lame trying to get to you. No. It's love, of the kind just as perverse as the outlaw's. Only difference is that the sheriff has a whole society of rules and laws and expectations to keep him in check. And out here? Well, they just don't apply.

If the outlaw wins, the story ends pretty simple. He keeps you, has his way with you. Ruins you. Tucks you away in his hideout for only him to enjoy.

But I don't think that's what happens. The sheriff might not have the other man's speed, but he's got experience, age, years of watching cocksure young men giving themselves away when they go for their guns too early. He puts a bullet right in the other man's heart and steps over his body to get to you.

You're shaking, crying so hard that your gag is soaked through. Looking up at him so thankful that he wants to fuck you right then and there.

He cuts through your ropes and you hug him, not caring one bit that it ain't something a proper lady would do. He kneels on one leg and let's you cry into his shirt, voice all weak and sweet as you thank him.

"They was gonna do such awful things sheriff. Kept tellin' me how good it would be for me, but they kept touching me. Sheriff, I was so scared."

If he could, he'd kill them all over again. Instead he just holds you. Ignores the age gap between you, ignores how it ain't the proper thing to do.

"I'm here darlin'. And ain't no one gonna lay a finger on you again, you hear?"

You nuzzle into his neck, hiccuping. And God, it feels good to hold you. He's too old for you - hair going grey at the temples despite him still being lean with muscle. He's too jaded and mean for you - how can he be a good match for such an innocent thing when his hands are soaked in blood? He knows, but he just doesn't care.

Just scoops you up in his arms and carries you to his horse.

If there's one thing you ain't realised, it's that the sheriff is about as sly as he is mean. When he takes you home, he'll probably take your guardian aside for a quiet word. Lie straight through his teeth and tell them he was too late, that you were ruined before he got there.

He'll watch them go pale, watch the cogs turning. Who will want you now? And when he sees that awful realisation on their face, that's when he goes in for the kill.

Puts his hat over his heart and says he's so ashamed that he wasn't faster. That he couldn't save your innocence and your life both. That if your pa would give his blessing, he'd be more than happy to take you as his wife.

It's not the match they wanted for you. He's not a great political ally and he sure as hell ain't a God fearing man. But who else will have you once the rumours start flying?

And when they tell you, you're too shaken to object. Too indebted to the law man to wonder what he said to make them suddenly so amenable.

It's a nasty trick to pull. A theft almost as bad as your kidnapper's. You're too good for a dog like him, but he'll be damned 'fore he let's you get away. Rabid dogs sink their teeth in and never let go, didn't nobody ever tell you that sweetheart?

And on your wedding night, when he claims his reward from between your thighs, you slowly start to realise that honour isn't as easily found as you once thought, that a badge doesn't make a man good. He'll probably look up at you from between your legs, his lips and stubble shiny with your wetness. Smirking like a wolf who got locked in the pen with the whole helpless flock.

In the end, you only have yourself to blame. I tried to tell you he was rotten.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your Sweetest & Most Lovable Qualities ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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⋆𐙚₊˚Pile I

So, we’ve got, Yeah, I know big cards for a topic about your most endearing qualities. Oh, and before we go any further—let me just say this. I couldn’t pull more than three cards for this pile for some reason. To me, that’s the universe saying, This is it. This is all they need to know. This is the energy of someone who has lived, felt, and somehow turned all the chaos of life into something beautiful, tender, and deeply lovable. But that’s exactly what makes this reading so powerful. You’re not someone whose sweetness is obvious on the surface.

This pile is the softest in a "you don’t even realize how powerful your love is" kind of way.

listen, if these cards were in a different context, I’d be holding your hand and whispering, “Babe, brace yourself,” but here? These two cards are telling me that your most lovable quality is how you handle endings, transformations, and straight-up life-altering moments. You don’t cling when things need to be let go. You don’t fear the crumbling because you know something better is waiting to be built. And that? That’s what makes people soft for you. There’s something heartbreakingly tender about a person who has seen destruction but still chooses to believe in new beginnings. You give off this aura of quiet strength—like someone who’s been through the fire but still keeps their hands warm enough to comfort others. People feel safe with you, not because life is always stable around you (The Tower says otherwise, babe), but because you’ve shown time and time again that no matter how much things collapse, you will always rebuild. And let’s talk about how unexpectedly comforting you are. You’re not the person who hands out surface-level advice like “everything happens for a reason” (ugh, no). You’re the one who sits with people in their mess, in their heartbreak, in their uncertainty, and just exists with them, without judgment. And somehow, through your presence alone, you make people believe that they, too, will get through it. (OMG PILE 1, i wanna give you people such a big hug 😭😭 I seriously felt like crying while writing this pile, the energies were so heavy yet so soft) See, your kindness isn’t loud. It’s not the type that announces itself in grand gestures or obvious ways. It’s the kind that sneaks up on people. The kind that makes someone pause one day and think, “Wow, I didn’t even realize how much I needed them.” You don’t just offer stability—you are stability. Not because your life is always in order (again, The Tower says you’ve had your fair share of chaos), but because you know how to find steadiness even in uncertainty. You’re like a lighthouse in the storm, always there, always steady, guiding people home without needing to be asked. And people adore this about you. There’s something profoundly lovable about someone who makes others feel grounded without even trying. Whether it’s through your words, your actions, or just the way you carry yourself, you give people a sense of belonging. You’re not the kind of person who opens up easily, and that’s part of what makes your sweetness so special.

You don’t hand out trust like free samples at a store. No, honey, people have to work for it. And when they do? They’re met with something so rare—loyalty, unwavering support, and a kind of love that says, “I will stand by you even when everything else falls apart.” And that? That makes people soft for you in a way that’s hard to put into words. People may not always realize it at first, but once they do, they never forget you. You’re the kind of person whose absence is felt. The kind of person who, once someone has experienced your presence, nothing else quite measures up.

So, to sum this all up? Your most endearing, lovable qualities aren’t the kind that everyone immediately recognizes. You’re not “sweet” in the conventional, sunshine-and-rainbows way. You’re sweet in the way that a person feels when they’ve finally found home after being lost for so long. You’re sweet in the way that endings feel bittersweet but necessary. You’re sweet in the way that rebirth always holds a quiet kind of hope. And that? That’s a kind of sweetness that can’t be replicated.

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⋆𐙚₊˚Pile II

Alright, bestie, let’s get into Pile 2 because this reading? Oh, it’s personal. VERY PERSONAL.

So, looking at Four of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Pentacles, and The Sun, I’m getting such a specific and beautiful energy from you. You’re the type of person whose sweetness isn’t immediately obvious to everyone—it’s something people earn the right to see. Your love, your warmth, your kindness? It’s not just out there for anyone to take. It’s guarded, not because you’re cold, but because you know the value of your heart.Pile 2 people, your love feels like home. They are the ones who will wrap you up in warmth, make sure you’ve eaten, and remind you that you are loved even on the days you feel invisible.

I can tell you’re someone who has felt neglected in the past. Maybe you’ve been that person who showed up for others but didn’t always get the same in return. Maybe you’ve had moments where you wondered, Does anyone even see me? But here’s the thing—this has shaped you into someone so rare, so deeply precious. You don’t just give your love freely—you give it intentionally. And when you do? It changes people.There’s something so tender about someone who understands what it’s like to feel left out in the cold but still chooses to be warm. You don’t just give surface-level kindness; you make people feel safe. Your energy is like a soft, golden light in a world that can sometimes feel too harsh. the Queen of Pentacles energy sitting right in the middle of this spread, i see it as one of the main qualities of yours. You are the nurturer, the provider, the person whose presence feels like a deep breath after a long day. But what makes this so beautiful is that you don’t flaunt it. You’re not out here shouting, Look at me, I’m kind! No, your love is quiet. It’s the type that sneaks up on people when they realize, Damn, I’ve never felt this safe before.

You have this incredible ability to make people feel valued. Not just liked, not just appreciated, but genuinely, wholeheartedly valued. And you don’t do it in a way that’s over-the-top or performative—you do it in the little things. The way you remember the small details about people, the way you check in even when they don’t ask, the way you offer comfort without making a big deal about it. That’s your magic. But here’s the thing—you don’t just give, give, give anymore. I see it in this spread. You’ve learned that your love is not a free buffet; it’s a carefully prepared meal, and only those who truly appreciate it get a seat at your table. And honestly? That’s one of the most lovable things about you. You don’t let just anyone into your world, but when you do? You give them something real, something they’ll never find anywhere else.

Oh, babe, do you even know how bright you shine? Because let me tell you, you don’t always see it, but others do. There’s this thing about you—you don’t even realize how much joy you bring to people just by existing. You might be the type who’s so used to being strong as we talked about how you are used to being neglected so you have now developed this coping mechanism , to carrying your own burdens, that you don’t notice how much your presence lifts others up. But trust me—people see it. You have this warm, radiant energy that just feels good to be around. And it’s not the loud, center-of-attention kind of warmth. It’s the kind that makes people feel like they can be themselves. The kind that makes them feel lighter, freer, happier.

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⋆𐙚₊˚Pile lll

First off, the fact that you got two Major Arcana cards in this reading? Yeah, this isn’t just about your surface-level sweetness. You people are the softest in the way that you inspire other people to keep going.

Starting off with this spread here, and oh my god, bestie, do you even realize how much you carry on your own? Like, I’m not even talking about small worries—I mean the deep, sleepless-night kind of overthinking. The taking on everyone else’s pain while pushing yours aside type of energy. y’all are like a walking contrast in the best way possible. On one hand, you carry a lot of internal battles, but on the other hand, you are the biggest source of light for others. And that’s what makes you so incredibly lovable. Your softness isn’t just about being gentle—it’s about being brave enough to keep believing in something better, even when life has knocked you down. You feel things deeply, and honestly? That’s what makes you so lovable. Here’s the thing: your softness isn’t in being effortlessly sweet—it’s in being brave enough to still love despite everything you’ve been through. You’ve had moments where you felt alone, where you thought, No one sees what I’m going through. But you never let that turn you cold. Instead, you became the person who helps others feel less alone. You are the definition of “I got you” energy—the friend, the lover, the safe space that people don’t even realize they need until they meet you. You make people feel understood, like they don’t have to carry things by themselves anymore. And that? That is rare. Now, let’s talk about The Star—because, DAMN, you don’t even realize how much of a light you are, do you? This card sitting right here tells me something crazy beautiful about you, You make people believe in good things again. You are literally hope personified. i think You people give the best motvational speeches Lol. You don’t sugarcoat things, but somehow you always know the right thing to say to pull someone out of their darkness. You remind people that life keeps moving, and better days are coming. You have this infectious “Why not?” attitude.

And what’s wild? You do this without even realizing it. Like, you’ll say something casually, and days later, someone’s still thinking about it, because you saw something in them that they didn’t even see in themselves. That’s your magic. Your love is quiet, but it’s healing. But here’s where it gets interesting—The Fool. And I love, love, LOVE this placement because this tells me your most lovable quality isn’t just your strength—it’s your ability to keep going. Like, after everything? You still believe in new beginnings. You still take risks with your heart. You still trust that there’s more to life than just pain and struggle. People are drawn to you because you remind them that it’s okay to start over. That it’s okay to try, to love, to hope—even after things have hurt them. And that’s something so rare. Because most people who’ve been through what you’ve been through? They shut down. But you? You open up. You jump, even when you’re scared. You let life surprise you. And that? That’s love in its purest form.

Your sweetness isn’t in being overly bubbly or outwardly affectionate—it’s in being real. In being the person who gets up even when life knocks them down. In being the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention but changes lives just by existing. And that? That’s a love the world doesn’t see enough of.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Maggie I'm sorry I didn't write this essay, as you know I was not impressed with how the last chapter went 😭😂

Me as I read chapter 5:

This is a long one so get comfy, have a drink and listen- 📖

1. When Baela wanders out of the bathroom in a fuzzy purple robe and a gale of steam, she finds you dressed in your grey work uniform and sprinkling a packet of flower food you got from the Rite Aid down the street into the vase of sunflowers. You are smiling to yourself; you can’t seem to stop.

A) she just sounds as if she's on an advert for something 😫 or modelling on the cat walk, amongst the smoke machines. Like effortlessly cool, you what I mean?

B) like she's always model ready and glam. Like she's always camera ready 📷📸

C) whereas sunshine is in grey and buying things from a cheap shop (I presume?)

D) aw she's cock drunk in love, cute

2. “Heyyyyy!” Baela says, slow and salacious, hoping for interesting stories. You very rarely have any to share. “How’d the Maroon 5 shoot go? Not so bad, right?”

A) I'm getting vibes from B, she sounds okay sometimes but totally fake the other times- Hollywood baby, gotta be careful who u trust

B) and it went absolutely great

3. “It was good.” You rearrange the sunflowers, pruning any leaves that have begun to wilt. Daylight streams in through the windows; outside you can see power lines, palm trees, a shopping center featuring—among other things—a Starbucks, World Star Vape, and Carl’s Jr.

A) Sunshine is trying to keep a dying thing alive- like her dreams? Her need to be constantly happy? Her ‘cursed’ relationship with Aegon?

B) Everything Is sunny & happy & lively … for now

C) 3 places with addicting things or quick fixes… like a certain relationship? For both parties?

4. “And you survived the bathtub thing, I see.” Her tone implies that you were ridiculous to ever fear you wouldn’t, childish, ignorant, histrionic.

A) How condescending

B) Some people are different and Sunshine shouldn't have to go through that to get famous

C) It's sad to think some actors/actresses would have had to

5. “What?” She reaches into the refrigerator and removes a plastic bowl full of raspberries, sets it down on the kitchen counter, eats absentmindedly as she stares at you. “Really? Why not?”

A) What a healthy choice

B) is She just programmed To eat healthy like for HW aesthetic? (Couldnt be me)

C) Rather have doughnuts

6. You shrug, a little shy but desperately wanting to tell somebody, because that will make it real. Blood burns in your face. “Aegon saved me.”

A) Don't tell B

B) Aw Sunshine is so cute, she thinks of Aegon as her Prince or Knight in shining armour

C) But will he just remove the helmet and show that hes not the hero she thought he was

7. Baela’s eyes narrow and her brow crinkles. You find yourself—as you often do—casually in awe of the smoothness of her skin, the perfect arches of her eyebrows, her expressiveness that is never inelegant. She chews her raspberries very slowly. “Seriously?”

A) She always seem perfect, HW ready

B) Drop the skincare Routine girl

C) Shes angry chewing 😭

8. Her jaw drops open; there’s berry juice on her teeth like blood. “How? Where?!”

A) She Sounds like a predator animal with Sunshine in her sights

B) More untrustworthy vibes

C) I reckon she might screw Sunshine over by telling the tabloids about her Relationship with Aegon, to level uo her career. Or does it out of anger when ss gets more famous than her? Sabotage?

D) pretends to be a friend but is a villain in the end, like Scream

9. “No, remember, he’s not married. He’s just engaged.”

A) Yeah!😠…😶… yeah🫠…

B) I love you SS, but that's not the hair that we should be splitting…

10. “It’s the same thing!” Baela exclaims, and she has completely forgotten about her raspberries. “You’re a cheater, how does that make you feel?”

A) Can't argue with B on this, still bad

B) Lets be a bit nicer to SS please, she's just a baby (but she does need telling)

11. You shake your head; she doesn’t understand. “I know it sounds bad, but when I’m with Aegon…he’s just so…he’s so protective and he’s smart and he’s brave and he actually believes in me, he’s the only person who doesn’t think I’m hopeless and delusional, and he’s always trying to help me, and there’s something about when we’re together that just feels…magical!”

A) Girl, SS, write some fanfic, geez 😅

B) She in love love

C) She in love love (like me)

D) Also me when I try to excuse men's behaviours on dating sites 🙄

12. “Of course it’s magical!” Baela bursts out, and now Jace is peeking blearily out of her bedroom, his dark curls in disarray. “He’s a fuckboy, that’s what they do! He gives you some otherworldly encapsulated experience that leaves you dickmatized but it’s not real, because then he goes home and he does the same thing with his soon-to-be-wife, and then the next day he’s probably hooking up with some other impressionable starstruck client, and you’re standing here thinking you have something special with him when he’s already onto the next girl!”

A) You've woken the baby (Jace), B

B) Dickmatized- don't we all want that to be that

C) So… weird thought but has something Like that happened to B with a manager or dare I say it, Aegon?

D) Or does she know him better than we think?

13. You can’t imagine that being true, and yet you wonder without wanting to: why did he have condoms in his desk drawer? “I don’t think he’s happy with Becca.”

A) i asked about the condoms!! It was sus

B) Me with all my celebrity crushes- “I don't think he's happy with [ ]

C) also what condoms does he use? 👀

14. You look down at your shoes, uninspired white Skechers for work, ashamed. “I guess not.”

A) Woah I wear white sketchers Mags

B) They're comfy lol

15. “Who talks shit about Jace?” Jace asks from the doorway of her bedroom.

A) poor Jace

B) But also maggie does- I've seen what she does to your in fanfics… 👀

16. “—They say he’s a hobosexual and lazy and jobless and whatever, but that man is loyal, he doesn’t even look at other women, and I wouldn’t trade him for anybody. Because apparently it’s extremely fucking rare to find someone who won’t get naked for the first stranger who promises to make all their wildest dreams come true.”

A) Jace just standing there like-

B) It's okay Jace, I know you're better than that (Im actually looking forward to your future fic)

17. .. you remember years ago finding the emails between your father and that hospital intern, and you marvel at how easy it is to fixate on one star and lose sight of the constellation.

A) The last line 😘👌

B) We all make mistakes but she's only done it the once… but will it stay like that? 👀

C) It's easy to judge until you're in that position..

18. Baela tosses the empty plastic bowl into the kitchen sink—it rattles harshly there—and casts you a hard glare as she stalks towards her bedroom in her purple bathrobe. “I am so disappointed in you.”

A) Plastic, plastic, plastic- v much like HW

B) Easy to throw away… Careless of what she does and who she hurts (my tabloid theory)

C) Alright mum sheesh

19. Baela stops and turns around, and now her face is all pity, like you’re too pathetic to stay mad at, like you aren’t cognizant enough to be held responsible. “Yeah. We’re still going to see the fireworks.”

A) Me with my dog, can't stay mad at my baby

20. “Jace can stay here when I’m in Paris, right?” Baela asks. “He swears he’ll vacuum and take the garbage out and stuff. And you know he won’t fill up the sink with dirty dishes, he basically only eats takeout.”

A) Oh so he is capable of looking after himself..

B) SS please make him a proper meal, he needs nutrition

C) I hope SS and Jace bond whilst B ain't there, like best besties but will that only upset Aegon more if he finds out?

21. All afternoon as you are bent low scraping scoops of ice cream out of the freezer and mashing in mix-ins on the chilled countertop, each time the glass door opens and the string of bells jangle you look up to see if it’s Aegon, because maybe he’s found you another job or maybe he just misses you, and he’s daydreaming of you now in the sweltering sunshine that rains down golden and cloudless. But your only customers are strangers: flocks of influencers in yoga pants who pick at Like It-sized sorbets, flustered mothers trying to relay their lisping children’s orders, giggling couples on dates who you love watching, the way their eyes are alight and their fingers forever ache to intertwine.

A) Even as she's in hell at work, her Salve is Aegon (even if he dont show up)

B) Aw she misses Aegon (me too)

C) I hate couples too gorl, how dare they be happy, rubbing it in our faces

22. … your breathing still labored from the hike and guzzling cans of La Croix that Baela packed, awful as always but not so bad when you feel like you’re dying of thirst. As you wait for the fireworks to start, you take a few selfies with the distant incandescent mirage of Downtown to the northeast, towards Chinatown and Elysian Park, towards Apple Valley, Minnesota if you drove far enough.

A) Me and Sunshine are the same? Both hating walks? Damn

B) That drink, she only likes it when it's her last resort. Like any products of HW- she will do anything but that but uses it when she has no other choice? like plastic surgery, etc

C) Shes being pulled in so many directions. What will she choose? Hw & fame or Minnesota, home?

23. In the two minutes you spend debating whether to watch it, he has seen yours, liked it, and replied: Miss America 2025.

A) Alright babe, a bit of a stalker

B) He can calm Down too lmao- so flirty & thirsty (it should be me 😫)

24. “What are you grinning about?” Baela asks from where she is sitting in Jace’s lap, his arms around her waist, and you can’t tell her because you don’t want to make her mad again.

A) Stalker 2

B) Leave Ss to be happy

C) Unless B is sus and has an idea of who SS is talking to…

25. “Just something my sister sent me.” You click on Aegon’s story; he is standing beside a massive grill covered with hotdogs and hamburger patties, wielding a pair of tongs, and wearing his aviator sunglasses and a green apron with seemingly nothing underneath. You like it and reply: I have literally never wanted a hotdog so bad in my life.

A) Bl**dy hell, she's thirsty too

B) But Mags, that image was too hot

C) Like was he naked? 👀

D) I'm a vegetarian but I'd break it for his sausage

26. “You better post the picture we took together,” Baela tells you. “We looked cute as fuck!”

A) Alright B, calm down

B) Why don't you post it?

C) Sort of controlling? Like she never asks, just sort of demands?

27. “You were okay,” Baela says, and they both laugh.

A) i know couples joke but she's never very complimentary with him

B) He deserves better

C) I reckon she could drop him to up her career cuz he's not famous, and seems like a waste

28. “It’s a really good photo,” you agree. And it proves that you have friends to do activities with, that you aren’t quite as pathetic and alone in Los Angeles as your parents and Clara and Tripp and Mason might think. You post it as a story: you and Baela smiling together, Jace in the background brandishing a peace sign. You add a bunch of red, white, and blue hearts for decoration. Aegon watches your new story within a few minutes, but he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even like it. You frown down at your screen, confused.

A) She needs some friends (please Jace)

B) As an instagram story so its not around forever (like B's presence will Not be)

C) Ooh why he mad? I hate men lmao

29. “Oh look, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Baela says excitedly, and now there are booming explosions in the darkening sky and threads of shimmering remnants descending like falling stars.

A) Yes it's starting… the drama & explosions start now

30. You are early for your appointment because you want to see Aegon again, and you don’t even try to tell yourself it’s for any other reason. It’s Tuesday, July 8th, and there are still charred firework wrappers and singed sparklers strewn on the sidewalk. You find a parking spot a ways down the street from Aegon’s half-duplex and trot to the front door. You are wearing your tan TOMS wedges, a top the color of dark fertile earth, a green maxi skirt, and swampy verdant eyeshadow to match: matte brown Rewind and sparkly emerald Damaged, both by Urban Decay.

A) Atleast she ain't delusional, that helps

B) He's in such a dump - shows that LA ain't all the glitz and glam- will Sunshine see that?

C) Very dark, earthy tones… calm before the storm?

D) ‘Rewind’ she wants to go back to that night, ‘Damaged’ she will be after this conversation

31. "Aegon must be hella stressed lately because he’s always mixing things up and forgetting appointments, then he yells at me but feels bad about it afterwards and pays me overtime. Well worth it! I think it’s the wedding. Becca’s constantly showing up asking for his opinion about cakes and decorations and whatever and it’s just a lot.”

A) Oh he's always mixing things up… hopefully he'll mix up his fiance soon

B) Becca stresses him out! SS doesn't.. see how that could work

32. Mario is traversing a narrow stone pathway surrounded by a sea of blood-red lava. Aegon’s tank top is the color of the pine trees back in Minnesota; the unbuttoned short-sleeve Oxford shirt he’s thrown overtop is white and wrinkled. The room has been tidied up... Honeycrisp apples filling up a bowl that is blue china instead of plain bone-colored ceramic.

A) Mario again… reflecting Aegon’s medical journey/ life

B) Narrow- meaning he can only go one way in life (get married, give up LA and whatever else)

C) Blood-red lava- either Mario is the disease in his body/ bloodstream (narrow- vein)

D) His tank is the colour of the trees from her home? He's her home?

E) Also earthy colour, they're matching. Both each other’s home

F) Wrinkled white top- he's a disgruntled angel (he's trying his best to help SS) (or dying soon lmao)

G) He's still got a piece of her around, the apples (highlighted in colour, not the plain white of LA)

33. “Hey,” Aegon says, glancing at you but still clicking buttons and swiveling the joystick on his transluscent orange controller.

A) He's paying half attention to her.. whilst he also concentrates on the game (his medical issues taking over his life whilst he tries to be there for her?)

34. “Are you winning?” you ask, meaning the game. Mario veers off the precarious walkway and into the lava, screams and tries to leap to safety, sails over a stone island, hits the lava again and dies.

A) she cares about his interests and him 😭

B) Does she distract him? And is there bad repercussions? (Becca leaving?)

C) Aegon/ Mario is struggling to get back to safety?

35. Aegon chuckles; he sounds tired. His bruised knuckles, five days gone, have sickened to a ghastly green and plumes of opaque violet. “I guess not.” He turns off the Nintendo 64. “How was your 4th of July?”

36. Aegon gives you a disapproving look like he doesn’t quite believe you. You can’t fathom why. “I might have another job for you.”

A) He's tired 😫

A) He's jealous girl

B) We love to see it

37. “Really? Great!” But despite the good news, you’re beginning to feel like you’re sinking. You keep waiting for Aegon to acknowledge what happened here, what you both did, what you were to each other even if only for a few hours under the cover of darkness.

A) Sinking… like the Titantic reference from the first chapter in this office

B) I feel bad vibes about to happen

38. “There’s a casting call for a very minor part in a new Marvel movie. I’m sure that’s not exactly your dream role, and it’s not really what I see you doing either, but you said you’d take anything and it’s an opportunity to get you in front of some big-name people. So I booked you a spot.”

A) We love Marvel (just watched Marvel today actually lmao)

B) SS would be cute as a superhero or sidekick

C) Aegons so clever

39. “I’m keeping an eye on the indie projects that make it to pre-production. I can imagine you shining in a niche little thriller, maybe a romantic drama…you do angry really well, you know. Which is strange, because you’re never angry in real life. But that’s what makes you an actress. You become other kinds of people.”

A) He doesn't see her angry… I feel like he just needs to wait lmao

B) also he might also underestimate her himself? Cuz she seems nice all the time?

C) A romantic drama? No need babe, she's already in one

40. Aegon studies you, his Nike Killshots still resting lazily on his desk. His blonde hair is slicked back from his face; his eyes are a remote somber blue like the ocean through an airplane window. “You alright, sunshine?”

A) What is it about these shoes??

B) He's so beautiful ugh

C) And he cares 😭

41. Slowly, Aegon smiles, and there’s something about his voice that strikes you as smug, maybe taunting, maybe even cruel. “It was that good for you, huh?”

A) Nevermind, jackass

B) But I'd still swoon 😅

C) After punching him

D) is this the real him or an act?

42. Aegon is stunned. He scrambles to his feet. “What—?”

A) Well done, you've made her upset

B) Me too

C) be nicer with your words, you know she's sensitive

43. “Then come back here.”

A) Me skipping my way back after that demand

B) Anything for you King

C) I need higher standards lmao but I blame it on him

44. Aegon sits down too, places his elbows on his desk, laces his fingers together and presses them against his lips as he gazes at you, his large blue eyes glossy and pained. After a while, he says quietly: “This is exactly what I didn’t want. For you to be hurt, for you to be sad.”

A) Ooh he serious

B) Stop with the eyes 😫🥰 ill forgive him too easily 🙈 I won't look

C) He throws my emotions everywhere, I know he cares but stop fucking around lmao

45. On the way here, Aegon stopped at an In-N-Out Burger. You said you didn’t want anything when he asked—you have no appetite whatsoever—but at the drive-thru window he ordered two cheeseburger combos: Cherry Cokes, grilled onions on the burgers, Animal-Style fries. He paid in cash, because he is full of deceit, or at least that is what you told yourself.

A) Idk what to think Of him ordering her food when she didn't want anything?

B) Was he doing it cuz he worries she might not be able to afford a lot of food? Or to remind her not to fall for the fame fad diets?

C) Like someone else said, does he pay in cash so he knows how much he Spent that day due to forgetting?

D) Or is he given an allowance by family or Becca?

E) He loves his Cherry cokes in your fanfic… Do you like cherry Coke by any chance maggie? 😂

46. “Do you want to get skin cancer? Are you trying to look like Clint Eastwood when you’re forty?”

A) Wear that sunscreen bitch

B) Does he think it's useless as he's dying anyway?

47. He gives you an irritated smirk but takes the sunscreen and halfheartedly mists himself with it… Aegon takes large, sloppy bites of his burger, grease dribbling down his fingers; you can only manage queasy nibbles at your own. In the waves, surfers are paddling far out and then riding swells back in, skittering to a stop in shallow water or being dragged under by the gleaming sapphire currents. California gulls squawk overhead and dive greedily when Aegon throws them some of his fries. To the north is a jetty of stones to mark the territorial boundary between the surfers and the swimmers; to the south is a long wooden pier for fishing.

C) He might not make it to 40 😫😭

D) just googled CE, he's 94 damn. Also he did have skin cancer, bless him

A) He does anything for SS 🥹

B) Hes so messy, i find it hot- imagine him eating you out like that 🥵

C) Also how he eats without a care in the world, whereas she nibbles, cuz she has to be cautious? But he's already made his money

D) The surfers are riding high on waves just to be brought down by the same thing?- Fame

E) Gulls are the paparazzi and not leaving u alone and eating the scraps they can get

F) There's a clear divide between the surfers and the swimmers (hmmm)

A) zodiac Calendar, fate. Is fate gonna intervene between them soon?

48. Aegon sighs and slurps his Cherry Coke, ice clinking around in the cardboard cup, red and white and reminding you of those zodiac calendars at Chinese restaurants. “I guess. I don’t know.”

B) He's confused. She's different to the other girls

C) But they shouldn't have done it cuz they're just gonna get hurt

A) Ooh slay? 😔

49. “It wasn’t the first time. I’m sure it’ll happen again at some point. It doesn’t change what I have with Becca.”

B) He truly isn't in love with Becca if he's doing this

50. “Never long-term,” Aegon amends.

C) Can I be the next time? 👀

51. “Marry me, girl, be my fairy to the world, be my very own constellation,

A) Cuz he can't do long-term, he won't be around for long enough so he just takes what care he can get from Becca- an easy marriage

A teenage bride with a baby inside getting high on information”

B) Teenager with a baby… like Becca who wanted more (a life with him)

A) Will he finally propose to SS later? just before it's too late? She's a Salve for him as much as he is For her

C) is Becca sneaky? Like is she gonna do something with all this information she has on him and his family as Revenge for being taken a mug of? - it's a Hollywood story, someone has to go to the tabloids lmao

A) Uh yes- this is how fanfics work

52. “You honestly believe I’d rip up the life I’ve have planned out for years for someone I met a month ago?”

B) Only one month??

A) Don't patronise her Aegon

53. “That’s adorable,” Aegon says, like you’re an idiot. After a moment he adds, rather combatively: “And if you’re such a one-dude kind of girl, who was that guy in your Instagram story?”

B) Oh and don't be jealous, you have no right lmao

54. “That’s his name? Jace? That’s not even a real name. That’s like James or Jason, but make it the trailer park remix.”

A) Sorry babe, forgot Aegon was in the the modern baby book of names 🙄

B) If you look in the Targaryen name book, Aegon means "a little bitch"

C) If you don't change your attitude, you'll be A(e)Gon(er) soon

55. Aegon rolls his eyes and shoves a handful of Animal-Style fries into his mouth, sopping with melted yellow cheese and grilled onions and secret-recipe spread that tastes suspiciously like Thousand Island salad dressing. “Right.”

A) That boy needs manners lmao

B) that's like another portion of food with more cheese 🧀- baby doesn't care about his health at all

C) He's distracting himself with food? Emotional eating?

A) Someone he trusts enough, he won't ever trust anyone with her

56. “Sure,” Aegon says, like he is being deliberately stoic. “But I need more time to find someone I trust enough.”

B) Hes putting on an act of nonchalance to not show the hurt he's feeling with her just asking for someone else

C) He will probably try and delay it as much as he can

A) He's calling her bluff

57. Aegon looks at you, a challenge, a dare. “Do you really want to never see me again?”

58. Aegon scoffs. “Oh, come on.”

B) And she doesn't babe

A) Don't be a baby- answer the question

59. “Are you twelve years old?” Aegon says, then slurps forcefully on his Cherry Coke. “Life is more complicated than that.”

B) he doesnt want to say cuz he doesn't love Becca

A) Says the baby

B) it is true. Life is complicated

C) He's the grumpy realist and she's the optiminist. They balance each other- life isn't hard when they're together (ish)

D) Back to consuming to delay his answers

A) He' sparkles ✨️

60. Aegon gazes blankly out over the Pacific Ocean for a while, the breeze in his hair and the Coppertone Sport shimmering on his face, and then at last he turns to you. “Okay, listen,” Aegon begins. “About a year ago, Becca got pregnant.”

61. “Right. And I didn’t then either. So I told her I’d have absolutely nothing to do with it if she kept the baby, and that my preference was for her to terminate. And that’s what she did.”

B) And I oop-

C) I wonder if his final resting place will be the beach, he seems at peace here

B) He's a Bit rough

A) it must be something hereditary to not want to pass it on to his Kids cuz hes know how bad it is to deal with. He doesn't care about legacy whereas his dad did- but at what cost

C) I wonder if he would want the baby if it was Sunshine’s? - que baby? As a last piece of aegon?

62. “I’m not convinced it was unintentional,” Aegon is saying; you are only half-hearing him… “Becca told me that she moved out here to be an actress and a model, but I never saw her really pursuing that. Once we met, she jumped right into being the perfect caretaker, and some people are like that. They need someone to need them. She was great at it, it was all she wanted to do, looking after me and the house and the Targaryen family Hollywood bullshit that I can’t stand. And eventually Becca started dropping hints about getting married, and I ignored them. I think…maybe she thought having a baby would speed up the timeline. But now she knows how serious I am about not having children. And I’m a lot more careful.”

A) What girls have to do to feel secure in a relationship

B) but it also shows that's she manipulative? So what else can she do?

E) So Becca knows stuff about the family? Interesting..

C) Becca started out like SS? Does he help SS more because she actually has passion for it whereas Becca didn't?

D) I want to know about the Targs, they defo had an effect on him and why he hates HW

F) A lot more careful- as in he's stay away from Becca lmao

A) But you need To have to want her too, thats marriage aegon

63. “No,” Aegon says, exasperated that you don’t understand. “I’m marrying her because I’m who she wants, and she would do anything for me. And being with me is a sacrifice, right? So the least I can do is give her the official title. It works for both of us. It’s good for both of us.”

B) Both of you and ss want each other?

C) and he's sacrificing his own happiness by not being with SS

D) He's a curse to be with? Cuz he knows he's gonna go down a slippery slope later with his deteriorating health and he thinks ss wont stay/ doesn't need to see it in her happy world

A) She wants you to be the perfect guy she thought you were but everyone has their flaws

64. “I know,” Aegon snaps. “What do you want me to say? That I’m a fucking terrible person, that I’m a curse to everyone who cares about me? Sure, fine, okay, you got it. But to my knowledge I’m the only person in your corner, so let me help you for as long as I can.”

B) He's gonna be a curse to Sunshine? When he dies, she'll always remember him, like a lost love like Jack & Rose from Titantic (that you like to reference in this & aegon survived the last series of his)

C) He still wants to help and be close to her

A) See- whereas becca didn't Want to do it for the right reasons?

65. “Because you’re kind, and you’re gentle, and you’re real, and you want this for the right reasons, and I’m not going to let anybody beat that out of you.”

B) He's sick of fake people and she's real omg

C) Has she reopened his passion for being an agent?

A) He wants to be there

66. Aegon sighs, defeated. “Do you want to ride with me to the Marvel audition or do you want to drive yourself? It’s on Friday.”

B) But he also respects her choice

A) He's still upset over the Maroon 5 script

67. “In case something happens, obviously,” Aegon flares. “In case a director or an actor is a creep, in case they want you to do a dangerous stunt, it case they try to tell you to get surgery, in case they lie to you about the terms, in case a million other things go wrong. No one is going to listen to you, but because I’m a Targaryen they’ll listen to me.”

B) I love his protective energy.. cuz its “his job”... 😏

C) Whos gonna look after after he's gone 😭

D) How big are the Targs In this industry?

E) also it's v likely someone is a creep in any HW studio

68. “I’m the best you’ve got,” Aegon pitches back, and you sit with him in heavy silence under the sizzling afternoon sun for a long time, neither of you speaking, neither of you moving to leave.

A) Not just the heat being brutal, the angry tension too

B) They don't want to talk but they don't want to leave each other either

A) Not how they ended things last time..

69. An hour later, back in Elysian Park, Aegon parks his Sebring curbside and says Brandon will text you the address for the Marvel audition. You thank him briskly and impersonally. Aegon jogs up the concrete steps and into his half-duplex; you begin walking down the sidewalk towards where you parked your 2003 Honda Accord this morning. You are most of the way there when you see her approaching: long dark hair, wide-leg jeans, bridal white crop top, carrying a massive bakery box. Becca is beaming and humming to herself, but when she spots you she jolts to a halt.

B) bride white top- she wants you to know shes getting married lmao

C) Aw she was in a good mood 😂

70. “Always trying to break us up,” she seethes hatefully, defiantly. “Always trying to tear us apart. You think you matter enough to jeopardize what Aegon and I have? He comes home to me, always, and no one can change that. You think I don’t know loving a man like that means having to share him with the world? I know it. But you should know you’ll never get to keep him.”

D) SS is ruining Beccas dream of domesticity so will Becca ruin hers?

E) Does becca have access to Aegon's files and with him mixing things up, he might forget to lock the computer. Plus plus- he's using folders ( is that another sign of his decorating state cuz he can't remember his computer password)?

B) Does he not sleep with her? Does he not trust her after the baby thing?

A) She says that like just to Ss but she probably means all the girls Aegon has slept with

C) I wonder if Becca Will snap and tell Sunshine why she couldnt handle Aegon (his disease). I bet she knows what his dad dies of.

D) Imagine Becca killed Vis and is slowly killing Aegon for the money lmao idk I'm tired

A) Baela cussing her out, Aegon not being lovey, Becca tripping her over- I get you babe. You deserve a treat

71. “This day fucking sucks,” you mutter to nobody. Then you turn on your laptop and open Spotify in one tab. You recall seeing a lot of Alanis Morissette in Aegon’s playlist, and you find one of the few songs of hers you already know because it’s your mom’s favorite: You Learn.

B) I had to Google the song!

C) The song is about how the lows of life Still add to it, you learn and grow from the lessons

D) Like after this fic is done, she wouldn't change a thing cuz it's toughened her up but also allowed to love more openly (like maybe she stands up for herself and tells aegon to learn to let himself be happy and be with her before he goes)

E) It might help put more substance into her acting?

72. Wikipedia once told you that Viserys Targaryen passed away at his Malibu home after a long illness. Was it bad? It had to be, right? A disease that was torturously slow and horrific for the whole family. An experience that wounded Aegon somewhere deep and immutable.

A) Hmm was it an illness or did the family say that just to cover something up? And did aegon get caught in the crossfire?

73. Viserys Targaryen Alzheimer’s

74. You roll over and stare up at your bedroom ceiling, listening to Alanis Morissette’s serrated mezzo-soprano twang, and whatever is required to be taken seriously as an artist—to make people see you, to make people listen, to earn the privilege of not spending forty years impersonating someone who never feels the siren call of other lives—she has it.

A) Not alzheimers but maybe another thing related to it… like Dementia

B) Does something need to break in her to finally be sharp enough to cut and catch someone's attention?

A) SS isn't taken seriously cuz she's naive? Like she's a pushover in a way?

75. Maybe there’s no profound explanation for why Aegon is marrying Becca. Maybe he really is a fuckboy like Baela said.

C) And will it be cuz of aegon or something else?

B) But we all know that's not it

A) Yeah possibly

76. Maybe he just doesn’t like you enough.

C) He might not want anyone else to see him go like his dad? And he doesn't mind Becca cuz he doesn't care about her enough?

B) youre his favourite.

A) Lies. He does.

C) His precious sunshine.

A Curse [Chapter 5: Venice]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, In-N-Out Burger, accidental fake dating, discussions of pregnancy and abortion (not who you think), a wild Becca appears!

Word count: 6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

You sleep deep but wake up early. When Baela wanders out of the bathroom in a fuzzy purple robe and a gale of steam, she finds you dressed in your grey work uniform and sprinkling a packet of flower food you got from the Rite Aid down the street into the vase of sunflowers. You are smiling to yourself; you can’t seem to stop.

“Heyyyyy!” Baela says, slow and salacious, hoping for interesting stories. You very rarely have any to share. “How’d the Maroon 5 shoot go? Not so bad, right?”

“It was good.” You rearrange the sunflowers, pruning any leaves that have begun to wilt. Daylight streams in through the windows; outside you can see power lines, palm trees, a shopping center featuring—among other things—a Starbucks, World Star Vape, and Carl’s Jr.

“Did you meet Adam Levine?”

“Briefly and uneventfully. But he seemed nice!”

“And you survived the bathtub thing, I see.” Her tone implies that you were ridiculous to ever fear you wouldn’t, childish, ignorant, histrionic.

“Well…I actually didn’t have to do it.”

“What?” She reaches into the refrigerator and removes a plastic bowl full of raspberries, sets it down on the kitchen counter, eats absentmindedly as she stares at you. “Really? Why not?”

You shrug, a little shy but desperately wanting to tell somebody, because that will make it real. Blood burns in your face. “Aegon saved me.”

Baela’s eyes narrow and her brow crinkles. You find yourself—as you often do—casually in awe of the smoothness of her skin, the perfect arches of her eyebrows, her expressiveness that is never inelegant. She chews her raspberries very slowly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, so…I didn’t have to film that scene. But I did the rest of them and it went fine.”

Baela’s gaze drops to your shoes and travels northbound, examining you with skepticism and dread, as if she is afraid to ask. “Did something else happen?”

You can feel yourself glowing, flushing, beaming helplessly. “Kind of.”

Her jaw drops open; there’s berry juice on her teeth like blood. “How? Where?!”

“We went back to his office after the shoot. I mean, he drove us back to his office. But I wanted to go too.”

“And you did…what, exactly? How many bases?”

“Um…all of them?”

“All of them?!”

“Twice.”

Baela looks horrified. “Oh my God, you really fucked a married guy.”

“No, remember, he’s not married. He’s just engaged.”

“It’s the same thing!” Baela exclaims, and she has completely forgotten about her raspberries. “You’re a cheater, how does that make you feel?”

You shake your head; she doesn’t understand. “I know it sounds bad, but when I’m with Aegon…he’s just so…he’s so protective and he’s smart and he’s brave and he actually believes in me, he’s the only person who doesn’t think I’m hopeless and delusional, and he’s always trying to help me, and there’s something about when we’re together that just feels…magical!”

“Of course it’s magical!” Baela bursts out, and now Jace is peeking blearily out of her bedroom, his dark curls in disarray. “He’s a fuckboy, that’s what they do! He gives you some otherworldly encapsulated experience that leaves you dickmatized but it’s not real, because then he goes home and he does the same thing with his soon-to-be-wife, and then the next day he’s probably hooking up with some other impressionable starstruck client, and you’re standing here thinking you have something special with him when he’s already onto the next girl!”

You can’t imagine that being true, and yet you wonder without wanting to: why did he have condoms in his desk drawer? “I don’t think he’s happy with Becca.”

Baela groans as if she’s in physical pain. “I knew this would happen! I knew somebody was going to take advantage of you. You’re too idealistic, you’re too naïve.”

“I started it,” you object feebly.

“You think you seduced him? You think you were calling the shots with a middle-aged man whose family is Hollywood royalty?”

You look down at your shoes, uninspired white Skechers for work, ashamed. “I guess not.”

Baela huffs a sardonic sigh and scarfs down the last of the raspberries, chewing them aggressively. “You know, people talk shit about Jace—”

“Who talks shit about Jace?” Jace asks from the doorway of her bedroom.

“—They say he’s a hobosexual and lazy and jobless and whatever, but that man is loyal, he doesn’t even look at other women, and I wouldn’t trade him for anybody. Because apparently it’s extremely fucking rare to find someone who won’t get naked for the first stranger who promises to make all their wildest dreams come true.”

You are collapsing in on yourself, a wilting flower, a crushed spider, and you remember years ago finding the emails between your father and that hospital intern, and you marvel at how easy it is to fixate on one star and lose sight of the constellation. Jace slinks back into Baela’s bedroom and closes the door. “Yeah, you’re right, Baela,” you say softly. “I was wrong. I don’t know why I did that.”

Now Baela frowns at you with a nauseating combination of judgment and pity. “Look, are you sure you wouldn’t be happier back home on the horse farm? This place…you’re too nice for it, you know? You’re too trusting. You’re going to keep getting hurt.” You don’t have what it takes.

You steel yourself. “I’m staying here.”

“Okay, and are you going to find a new agent? Maybe somebody who isn’t trying to sleep with you, or at the very least isn’t in a committed relationship while doing it?”

You are thunderstruck by the question; you haven’t even considered this. “No one else wants me.”

Baela tosses the empty plastic bowl into the kitchen sink—it rattles harshly there—and casts you a hard glare as she stalks towards her bedroom in her purple bathrobe. “I am so disappointed in you.”

You turn to watch her leave, crestfallen and deserted. “Are we still going to see the fireworks later when I get done at Cold Stone?”

Baela stops and turns around, and now her face is all pity, like you’re too pathetic to stay mad at, like you aren’t cognizant enough to be held responsible. “Yeah. We’re still going to see the fireworks.”

“Yay!” you reply, a strained little squeak.

“Jace can stay here when I’m in Paris, right?” Baela asks. “He swears he’ll vacuum and take the garbage out and stuff. And you know he won’t fill up the sink with dirty dishes, he basically only eats takeout.”

“Yeah, of course, no problem! He can stay.”

“Thanks.” Baela gives you a small smile—a charitable you’re a dumbass but we’re still friends sort of gesture—and disappears into her bedroom. Then you go find your phone and purse so you won’t be late for work.

All afternoon as you are bent low scraping scoops of ice cream out of the freezer and mashing in mix-ins on the chilled countertop, each time the glass door opens and the string of bells jangle you look up to see if it’s Aegon, because maybe he’s found you another job or maybe he just misses you, and he’s daydreaming of you now in the sweltering sunshine that rains down golden and cloudless. But your only customers are strangers: flocks of influencers in yoga pants who pick at Like It-sized sorbets, flustered mothers trying to relay their lisping children’s orders, giggling couples on dates who you love watching, the way their eyes are alight and their fingers forever ache to intertwine.

At dusk, you and Baela and Jace are lounging on a blanket at the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook, your breathing still labored from the hike and guzzling cans of La Croix that Baela packed, awful as always but not so bad when you feel like you’re dying of thirst. As you wait for the fireworks to start, you take a few selfies with the distant incandescent mirage of Downtown to the northeast, towards Chinatown and Elysian Park, towards Apple Valley, Minnesota if you drove far enough.

You post the most flattering selfie to your Instagram story with a caption of patriotic emojis: an American flag, the Statue of Liberty, a bald eagle, an exploding pink firework. In the row of circles at the top of your screen, you observe that Aegon—a.k.a. superstargaryen—has also posted a story today. In the two minutes you spend debating whether to watch it, he has seen yours, liked it, and replied: Miss America 2025.

“What are you grinning about?” Baela asks from where she is sitting in Jace’s lap, his arms around her waist, and you can’t tell her because you don’t want to make her mad again.

“Just something my sister sent me.” You click on Aegon’s story; he is standing beside a massive grill covered with hotdogs and hamburger patties, wielding a pair of tongs, and wearing his aviator sunglasses and a green apron with seemingly nothing underneath. You like it and reply: I have literally never wanted a hotdog so bad in my life.

Aegon reacts with a laughing emoji and types: Come and get it. But of course you can’t, because Becca is probably there too.

“You better post the picture we took together,” Baela tells you. “We looked cute as fuck!”

“What about me?” Jace asks playfully, nuzzling the side of her face. “Was I cute as fuck too?”

“You were okay,” Baela says, and they both laugh.

“It’s a really good photo,” you agree. And it proves that you have friends to do activities with, that you aren’t quite as pathetic and alone in Los Angeles as your parents and Clara and Tripp and Mason might think. You post it as a story: you and Baela smiling together, Jace in the background brandishing a peace sign. You add a bunch of red, white, and blue hearts for decoration. Aegon watches your new story within a few minutes, but he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even like it. You frown down at your screen, confused.

“Oh look, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Baela says excitedly, and now there are booming explosions in the darkening sky and threads of shimmering remnants descending like falling stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are early for your appointment because you want to see Aegon again, and you don’t even try to tell yourself it’s for any other reason. It’s Tuesday, July 8th, and there are still charred firework wrappers and singed sparklers strewn on the sidewalk. You find a parking spot a ways down the street from Aegon’s half-duplex and trot to the front door. You are wearing your tan TOMS wedges, a top the color of dark fertile earth, a green maxi skirt, and swampy verdant eyeshadow to match: matte brown Rewind and sparkly emerald Damaged, both by Urban Decay.

Behind the reception desk, Brandon is squinting at the computer screen and scrawling notes in his planner with his flower pen. “Hey girl!” he greets you, and although he is preoccupied he still gets a bottle of Perrier out of the minifridge and sets it on the edge of the desk.

“Thanks!” you say as you take it. “I’m really sorry about what happened last week with the address thing. I hope you weren’t too freaked out. I didn’t want to ruin your holiday.”

Brandon laughs and waves a hand dismissively. “It’s totally cool, I wasn’t worried at all. Aegon must be hella stressed lately because he’s always mixing things up and forgetting appointments, then he yells at me but feels bad about it afterwards and pays me overtime. Well worth it! I think it’s the wedding. Becca’s constantly showing up asking for his opinion about cakes and decorations and whatever and it’s just a lot.”

You smile politely; it takes some effort. “Yeah, weddings are nerve-racking. My sister Clara is planning hers right now.”

“Oh for cute! Are you going to be her maid of honor?”

“Actually, I don’t know. I hope not. Sounds like a ton of work.”

“You’d be marvelous at it,” Brandon assures you, then snatches up the phone when it rings. “Targaryen Talent Agency, this is Brandon, how can I help you?” You say goodbye and continue to Aegon’s office.

Inside, he is wearing the same green Nike Killshots he had on the day you first met and has them propped up on his desk as he plays his Nintendo 64. Mario is traversing a narrow stone pathway surrounded by a sea of blood-red lava. Aegon’s tank top is the color of the pine trees back in Minnesota; the unbuttoned short-sleeve Oxford shirt he’s thrown overtop is white and wrinkled. The room has been tidied up, all signs of your transgression erased: debris swept off the scratched wood floor, his desk once again littered with folders and papers and Juicy Fruit gum wrappers, new frames for the photographs, Honeycrisp apples filling up a bowl that is blue china instead of plain bone-colored ceramic.

“Hey,” Aegon says, glancing at you but still clicking buttons and swiveling the joystick on his transluscent orange controller.

“Hi!” You are grinning as you sit down in the chair in front of his desk. “Your office is back to normal.”

“Yeah, I have cleaning people that come in a few days a week.”

“Are you winning?” you ask, meaning the game. Mario veers off the precarious walkway and into the lava, screams and tries to leap to safety, sails over a stone island, hits the lava again and dies.

Aegon chuckles; he sounds tired. His bruised knuckles, five days gone, have sickened to a ghastly green and plumes of opaque violet. “I guess not.” He turns off the Nintendo 64. “How was your 4th of July?”

“It was awesome! I hung out with my roommate.”

Aegon gives you a disapproving look like he doesn’t quite believe you. You can’t fathom why. “I might have another job for you.”

“Really? Great!” But despite the good news, you’re beginning to feel like you’re sinking. You keep waiting for Aegon to acknowledge what happened here, what you both did, what you were to each other even if only for a few hours under the cover of darkness.

“There’s a casting call for a very minor part in a new Mavel movie. I’m sure that’s not exactly your dream role, and it’s not really what I see you doing either, but you said you’d take anything and it’s an opportunity to get you in front of some big-name people. So I booked you a spot.”

“I accept.” Is he going to pretend it never happened?

“I’m keeping an eye on the indie projects that make it to pre-production. I can imagine you shining in a niche little thriller, maybe a romantic drama…you do angry really well, you know. Which is strange, because you’re never angry in real life. But that’s what makes you an actress. You become other kinds of people.”

Does he think it was a mistake? Does he think it didn’t matter? “Okay,” you hear yourself say uncertainly.

Aegon studies you, his Nike Killshots still resting lazily on his desk. His blonde hair is slicked back from his face; his eyes are a remote somber blue like the ocean through an airplane window. “You alright, sunshine?”

“Yeah, I just…um…I mean…” You glance uneasily around the small plain office, scuffed wooden floorboards and cracked paint on mint green walls and glaring daylight that pours in through the windows that face the east. “What happened Thursday night…was that a one-time thing, or…?”

Slowly, Aegon smiles, and there’s something about his voice that strikes you as smug, maybe taunting, maybe even cruel. “It was that good for you, huh?”

You are suddenly reminded of every doubt, every warning, every belittling comment you thought you had convinced yourself not to absorb: from Mom, Dad, Clara, Tripp, Mason, Baela, Jace, agents and directors and surgeons. You thump your cold glass bottle of Perrier onto Aegon’s desk, clutch your purse, and bolt for the door. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Aegon is stunned. He scrambles to his feet. “What—?”

“Sorry, bye. Please don’t follow me.” You don’t want him to see you crying. You’re already humiliated enough.

You run awkwardly in your wedges through the lobby—Brandon watches you from behind his desk, baffled—and burst out into the hot late-morning sunlight. You almost tumble down the concrete steps but regain your balance, then flee towards your Honda. Window air conditioning units whir, dogs bark, car engines rev, a radio in an open garage is blaring Domino by Jessie J. Now your phone is ringing.

You yank it out of your purse and, through the tears that blur your vision, see that the name on the screen is Aegon’s. “Hello?” you answer stupidly, as if you don’t know who it is.

Aegon’s voice is equal parts defensive and resigned. “Do you want a new agent?”

“No,” you sob.

“Then come back here.”

“I just…I just feel like I really messed up, I mean I’ve never cheated on or with anybody and I can’t believe I did that, and now you’re pretending it never even happened, and it feels weird, it feels wrong, and I ruined everything, and maybe people were right when they said I couldn’t handle being out here—”

“Come back to my office,” Aegon says calmly. “And we will talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, and turn around.

You clop into the lobby and give Brandon an embarrassed wave. He nods, puzzled. Then you return to Aegon’s office and take your place in your chair, slumped, red-eyed, ashamed.

Aegon sits down too, places his elbows on his desk, laces his fingers together and presses them against his lips as he gazes at you, his large blue eyes glossy and pained. After a while, he says quietly: “This is exactly what I didn’t want. For you to be hurt, for you to be sad.”

So you won’t start crying again, you distract yourself by rotating the green glass bottle you left on Aegon’s desk, slippery with condensation. “I don’t even like Perrier.”

“Then why do you drink one every time you’re here?”

“I thought it would be the easiest thing for Brandon to get me.”

Aegon shakes his head; and for a long time he just watches you. Then an idea strikes him. “Do you want to go to the beach?”

~~~~~~~~~~

He takes the 110 south to the 10, then the 10 west towards the coast, then Venice Boulevard until you hit the canals. Aegon parks his Sebring in a tight spot on the street; he has to cut it half a dozen times to squeeze between a BMW X5 and a Volkswagen Tiguan. When he rests his bruised hand on the back of your seat so he can twist around and look behind him, you feel a disorienting sort of loss. Is he never going to touch me again? Then you both get out and walk towards the towering palm trees and beckoning open blue that peeks out from between hotels and surf shops, the genesis of the Pacific Ocean that continues uninterrupted for over five thousand miles to the shores of Japan.

On the way here, Aegon stopped at an In-N-Out Burger. You said you didn’t want anything when he asked—you have no appetite whatsoever—but at the drive-thru window he ordered two cheeseburger combos: Cherry Cokes, grilled onions on the burgers, Animal-Style fries. He paid in cash, because he is full of deceit, or at least that is what you told yourself. And so now you are carrying the Cherry Cokes, condensation sweating out of the cardboard cups as midday heat radiates up from the sidewalk and teenagers on bicycles and skateboards weave around you. You pop into one of the surf shops and Aegon waits outside, bemused, until you emerge with a blue can of Coppertone Sport tucked under your arm.

When Aegon finds a spot he likes on the beach and sits cross-legged in loose warm sand, you set down the Cherry Cokes—ice jingling in the dripping cups—and spray yourself with the Coppertone Sport until all of your exposed skin is glistening with SPF 50. Then you try to pass the can to Aegon.

“I’m good,” he says, opening the paper In-N-Out Burger bag to distribute the contents.

“Do you want to get skin cancer? Are you trying to look like Clint Eastwood when you’re forty?”

He gives you an irritated smirk but takes the sunscreen and halfheartedly mists himself with it. Then he flings the can aside and passes you your burger and fries when you sit down beside him. Aegon takes large, sloppy bites of his burger, grease dribbling down his fingers; you can only manage queasy nibbles at your own. In the waves, surfers are paddling far out and then riding swells back in, skittering to a stop in shallow water or being dragged under by the gleaming sapphire currents. California gulls squawk overhead and dive greedily when Aegon throws them some of his fries. To the north is a jetty of stones to mark the territorial boundary between the surfers and the swimmers; to the south is a long wooden pier for fishing. A group of people are playing volleyball nearby. From their boombox drifts a Red Hot Chili Peppers song; you feel like you’re being haunted by them.

“It’s the edge of the world and all of Western civilization,

The sun may rise in the East, at least it settled in a final location

It’s understood that Hollywood sells Californication…”

“It’s not your fault,” Aegon says. “I’m the one who’s engaged, I’m a decade older than you, I’m sort of your boss. It was my responsibility to put the brakes on, and I didn’t because…” He gestures helplessly. “Because I really like you. And I didn’t want to stop. But you’re not to blame for it and you shouldn’t feel guilty and you didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

You stare out into the waves, glittering with sharp lacerations of sunlight. “So you wish you’d stopped it.”

Aegon sighs and slurps his Cherry Coke, ice clinking around in the cardboard cup, red and white and reminding you of those zodiac calendars at Chinese restaurants. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t feel guilty?”

“It wasn’t the first time. I’m sure it’ll happen again at some point. It doesn’t change what I have with Becca.”

You turn to him, revolted. “You just cheat constantly? That’s how you live?”

“Not constantly,” Aegon says, annoyed. “Not even that often. Maybe once or twice a year. I bump into someone at a party or a club, or on a film set, or on a plane…you know. Things happen. But it doesn’t go any further than that and it’s never serious.”

“Never serious,” you echo morosely.

“Never long-term,” Aegon amends.

“Marry me, girl, be my fairy to the world, be my very own constellation,

A teenage bride with a baby inside getting high on information,

And buy me a star on the boulevard, it’s Californication…”

Aegon taps the mostly-untouched burger in your hand. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you’d listen to me. I’m telling you to eat.”

His logic is sound. You make more of an effort, washing each bite down with Cherry Coke that you usually never drink, empty calories, fleeting forbidden sweetness.

Aegon is watching you closely, the creases around his eyes deep and thoughtful. “Could you tell me…like, specifically…what exactly you’re upset about?”

“I guess I thought it meant something.”

“I’m not pretending it didn’t. I just said I really like you.”

“But you’re still getting married in September.”

“You honestly believe I’d rip up the life I’ve have planned out for years for someone I met a month ago?”

“I don’t understand how you can have feelings for me and be marrying somebody else. That doesn’t make any sense. When I’m really into someone, I don’t want other people.”

“That’s adorable,” Aegon says, like you’re an idiot. After a moment he adds, rather combatively: “And if you’re such a one-dude kind of girl, who was that guy in your Instagram story?”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. “What guy?”

“The guy on the 4th of July. Young gym bro curly hair guy.”

It takes you a few seconds to realize who he means. “Jace?”

“That’s his name? Jace? That’s not even a real name. That’s like James or Jason, but make it the trailer park remix.”

“I think his parents have money,” you say absently, fascinated by Aegon’s reaction, trying to decide if you want to divulge that Jace is in no way available or romantically interested in you.

“That’s not the point.”

“He’s a friend.”

Aegon rolls his eyes and shoves a handful of Animal-Style fries into his mouth, sopping with melted yellow cheese and grilled onions and secret-recipe spread that tastes suspiciously like Thousand Island salad dressing. “Right.”

“Where are you going after you get married?”

“Becca’s family is in Houston.”

“What’s there for you?”

He laughs, a curt little cackle. “Segway tours, rodeos. The Space Center.”

“What about your family? What about Aemond and the others?”

“If they want to see me, they can catch a flight.”

“If you’re so hellbent on leaving Los Angeles, then what’s the point of this? Just ditch me now. Just give me to some other agent and we can both move on.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, like he is being deliberately stoic. “But I need more time to find someone I trust enough.”

“You can’t think of a single person who isn’t going to try to make me get naked or leap off a building?”

“No, I can, but I need someone who actually believes in you too. And you haven’t done much work out here yet. So it would be better if I had more to show them.”

“Can’t you just forge me another resume?”

Aegon looks at you, a challenge, a dare. “Do you really want to never see me again?”

The truth is humiliatingly simple. “No.”

“Then why are you arguing?”

You toss a few fries to the seagulls; they wrestle over them when they fall to the ground, kicking up golden sand and pecking murderously at each other. “Do you love Becca?”

Aegon scoffs. “Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“It’s a stupid question.”

“It’s an extremely relevant question.”

“Are you twelve years old?” Aegon says, then slurps forcefully on his Cherry Coke. “Life is more complicated than that.”

“More complicated than marrying people you’re actually in love with…?”

Aegon gazes blankly out over the Pacific Ocean for a while, the breeze in his hair and the Coppertone Sport shimmering on his face, and then at last he turns to you. “Okay, listen,” Aegon begins. “About a year ago, Becca got pregnant.”

You’re so startled you accidentally knock over your Cherry Coke, scrabbling for the cup as dark reddish liquid spills into the sand. “You have a baby?!”

He watches you, severe, grim, maybe a little afraid of what you’ll think. “No.”

Then you remember. “You don’t want kids,” you say softly.

“Right. And I didn’t then either. So I told her I’d have absolutely nothing to do with it if she kept the baby, and that my preference was for her to terminate. And that’s what she did.”

You are speechless, you are horrified, you are staring at him and struggling to imagine it.

“I’m not convinced it was unintentional,” Aegon is saying; you are only half-hearing him. Your skull is full of rumbling waves and the shrieks of seagulls. “Becca told me that she moved out here to be an actress and a model, but I never saw her really pursuing that. Once we met, she jumped right into being the perfect caretaker, and some people are like that. They need someone to need them. She was great at it, it was all she wanted to do, looking after me and the house and the Targaryen family Hollywood bullshit that I can’t stand. And eventually Becca started dropping hints about getting married, and I ignored them. I think…maybe she thought having a baby would speed up the timeline. But now she knows how serious I am about not having children. And I’m a lot more careful.”

“So…you’re marrying Becca…out of guilt?”

“No,” Aegon says, exasperated that you don’t understand. “I’m marrying her because I’m who she wants, and she would do anything for me. And being with me is a sacrifice, right? So the least I can do is give her the official title. It works for both of us. It’s good for both of us.”

You still can’t comprehend it. It seems so incongruous with who you know him to be: protective, warm, unconventionally noble. “You pressured Becca into getting an abortion?”

“It was her choice,” Aegon says weakly, knowing that he’d put an insurmountable weight on the scale.

“That’s a horrible thing to do.”

“I know,” Aegon snaps. “What do you want me to say? That I’m a fucking terrible person, that I’m a curse to everyone who cares about me? Sure, fine, okay, you got it. But to my knowledge I’m the only person in your corner, so let me help you for as long as I can.”

You shake your head; none of it makes sense. All of it is awful. They were right. I don’t belong here. “Why do you care about what happens to me?”

“Because you’re kind, and you’re gentle, and you’re real, and you want this for the right reasons, and I’m not going to let anybody beat that out of you.”

You swallow noisily. “I feel really guilty.”

“I’m sorry,” Aegon says, and he seems to mean it.

“I don’t think it’s fair to let Becca go through with the wedding without knowing that we just hooked up in your office.”

Aegon raises his eyebrows and shrugs uneasily. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but Becca wouldn’t want to know.”

“Why? Do you have some kind of arrangement?” Like my parents do. “She doesn’t concern herself with your cheating as long as she doesn’t have to see the evidence?”

“I mean, has she ever used those exact words? No. But I think that’s pretty close to how she feels.”

You nibble on a fry. Your eyes are downcast, your words hushed. With one index finger, you draw stars in the sand. “That’s so sad.”

Aegon sighs, defeated. “Do you want to ride with me to the Marvel audition or do you want to drive yourself? It’s on Friday.”

“I don’t want you there at all.”

“Well, I’m going to be there. But I can try to stay out of your way.”

You’re sulking. “Why do you have to go?”

“In case something happens, obviously,” Aegon flares. “In case a director or an actor is a creep, in case they want you to do a dangerous stunt, it case they try to tell you to get surgery, in case they lie to you about the terms, in case a million other things go wrong. No one is going to listen to you, but because I’m a Targaryen they’ll listen to me.”

“You’re my hero,” you say sarcastically; it comes out more miserable than mean. You’ve never been good at cruelty. It’s not a language you speak.

“I’m the best you’ve got,” Aegon pitches back, and you sit with him in heavy silence under the sizzling afternoon sun for a long time, neither of you speaking, neither of you moving to leave.

An hour later, back in Elysian Park, Aegon parks his Sebring curbside and says Brandon will text you the address for the Marvel audition. You thank him briskly and impersonally. Aegon jogs up the concrete steps and into his half-duplex; you begin walking down the sidewalk towards where you parked your 2003 Honda Accord this morning. You are most of the way there when you see her approaching: long dark hair, wide-leg jeans, bridal white crop top, carrying a massive bakery box. Becca is beaming and humming to herself, but when she spots you she jolts to a halt.

“Hi, Becca!” you say very cheerfully, overcompensating.

“Hey,” she replies flatly, then goes to pass you, heading towards Aegon’s office.

“Wait, sorry, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Reluctantly, Becca stops and peers at you, agitated, guarded, unwelcoming. “What? I’m busy. I have wedding cake samples for Aegon to taste.”

“Oh neat, that’s so fun!”

She glares at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you start. “Um….well…I just wanted to…um…Becca, there’s something I feel like I need to confess to you, and I want to profusely apologize because even though it wasn’t planned, I still knew better and I should never have—”

“You people,” Becca hisses, and you gape at her, bewildered.

“Sorry, what?”

“Always trying to break us up,” she seethes hatefully, defiantly. “Always trying to tear us apart. You think you matter enough to jeopardize what Aegon and I have? He comes home to me, always, and no one can change that. You think I don’t know loving a man like that means having to share him with the world? I know it. But you should know you’ll never get to keep him.”

“No, Becca, that’s not—”

“And if he was going to leave me, he has better options than you.”

Her hands are full, but she lowers a shoulder and shoves you hard with it, and you go stumbling backwards, your feet twisting out of your wedges. Pain bolts up through your left ankle and you yelp as you collapse onto the front lawn of a small yellow house. When you look up at Becca, staggered and appalled, she is sashaying swiftly up the sidewalk and is already halfway to Aegon’s office. You grab your wedges and limp to your Honda on bare feet, the concrete beneath them searing under the arid southwest sun.

The apartment is empty, Baela getting drinks with her L.A. friends before jetting off to Paris next week, Jace at one of his infrequent PhD classes. You grab an ice pack from the freezer and shuffle clumsily to your room, flop down onto your bed, apply the ice pack to your throbbing, swollen ankle.

“This day fucking sucks,” you mutter to nobody. Then you turn on your laptop and open Spotify in one tab. You recall seeing a lot of Alanis Morissette in Aegon’s playlist, and you find one of the few songs of hers you already know because it’s your mom’s favorite: You Learn.

As you listen, mulling over Aegon and his mazelike contradictions, it occurs to you that maybe losing his father at such a young age did something to him, scarred him, traumatized him, made him terrified of letting people get too close. Perhaps that is a baseless assumption. Perhaps you are desperate to make excuses for him, to believe that there’s still hope for the two of you.

How old did Aegon say he was when his dad died? In college? That could mess someone up.

Wikipedia once told you that Viserys Targaryen passed away at his Malibu home after a long illness. Was it bad? It had to be, right? A disease that was torturously slow and horrific for the whole family. An experience that wounded Aegon somewhere deep and immutable.

You Google: Viserys Targaryen cancer. There are no relevant results. You try again.

Viserys Targaryen Alzheimer’s

Viserys Targaryen ALS

Viserys Targaryen multiple sclerosis

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

You roll over and stare up at your bedroom ceiling, listening to Alanis Morissette’s serrated mezzo-soprano twang, and whatever is required to be taken seriously as an artist—to make people see you, to make people listen, to earn the privilege of not spending forty years impersonating someone who never feels the siren call of other lives—she has it.

Maybe there’s no profound explanation for why Aegon is marrying Becca. Maybe he really is a fuckboy like Baela said.

Maybe he just doesn’t like you enough.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii! Can I please request a Steve Rogers x shy!fem reader where back in Avengers Age of Ultron, when the Avengers raided that Hydra facility (where they first ran into Wanda and Pietro) Steve, when sweeping through the place before they left, found one cell that was actually still occupied. He found a young woman there, Y/n curled up on the ground of her cell. She wasn’t there willingly, unlike the twins, she had been abducted by Hydra when she was a kid and experimented on her. She developed disintegration powers, so she can make things disintegrate through a projected beam and touch, their plan was to use her like they used Bucky (luckily she hadn’t been sent on any missions when the Avengers got to her). She’s extremely terrified of Steve and jumpy when he approaches her, having most of her experience with other people be the Hydra doctors and agents that poke and prod at her with needles and hurt her. Also Hydra definitely convinced her that the Avengers would hurt her if they ever found her. She’s also a bit scared of her own powers because she doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s able to get her to trust him and that he won’t hurt her and she agrees to go with the Avengers back to the compound. She won’t speak to anyone else and is still really scared of the rest of the Avengers, Steve is the only one who can get through to her and get her to open up a bit, they both have clear chemistry and have growing feelings. He’s the only person she’ll let touch her at all, and he’s super understanding that she’s still getting used to communicating with other people 🥺 He’d help her train but she’d rarely go on missions, but imagine she goes with them when they run into Rumlow and she stops the bomb from going off because she disintegrates it before it hit the building (so no Sokovia Accords and no Civil War!). Anyways, Steve is SO proud of her and expresses so when they’re back at the compound, and she abruptly kisses him shhs

(She’s embarrassed until he pulls her back in for a deeper kiss🥰🥹)

Not Going To Hurt You » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Female Reader with the Avengers

Summary: HYDRA convinces you that the Avengers would hurt you, but Steve assures you that won’t happen.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (not Steve and you), language, mentions of needles, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the amazingly detailed request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Steve somehow managed to get inside of the HYDRA base after taking down the agents who were outside of the building. He cautiously walked around.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain America.” Strucker says.

Steve sighs and turned around. Strucker was standing a few feet.

“Strucker.” Steve says.

“I was wondering when you and the Avengers would come here and try to take us down.” Strucker says.

“I just go where there’s work to be done.” Steve says.

Strucker chuckles before he explains HYDRA’s plan to Steve. Steve was over the conversation when he started talking. That’s when Steve heard something in a room to the right of him. He looked over to the right to see a door with a lock on it.

“Who or what’s behind that door?” Steve asks.

“It’s nothing.” Strucker answers.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him before knocking him out with his shield. He walked over to the door, breaking the lock and the door handle with his shield. He opened the door to see you in the corner of the room, scared and shaking. Your legs were against your chest and your arms were wrapped around your legs.

“Ma’am?” Steve cautiously entered the room. “Are you ok?” He asks.

You looked up to see Steve standing a couple feet away from you. You recognized him as one of the Avengers. HYDRA told you about them. They also told you that they were hurt you.

“Please- Please don’t hurt me!” You say, stuttering out of fear.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Steve says softly.

Steve crouched down in front of you so he was at eye level with you. You scrambled to move backwards, forgetting that you were already leaning against the wall. He moved backwards a bit, not wanting to scare you any more than you already are.

“Ma’am, it’s ok. Breathe for me.” He says softly.

You stared at Steve for a few seconds before taking deep breaths to get your breathing under control.

“My name is Steve. What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You tell him quietly.

“How long have you been here?” He asks.

“Since I was a kid.” You say.

“Did HYDRA do anything to you?” He asks.

Instead of answering him, you extended your arms out to him, showing him the needle marks all over your arms. Steve gently grasped your arms to get a better look at the scars. You yanked your arms away from him out of habit.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “I do that when people touch me.” You say quietly.

“It’s ok. I understand.” He gives you a soft smile. “Will you let me help you?” He asks.

You shook your head no.

“HYDRA said the Avengers will hurt me.” You said.

“No, we won’t. I promise.” He says softly.

You stared at him for a moment. Something is telling you that Steve is trusting. You nodded, agreeing to let him help you. Steve stood up and walked to the door, waiting for you. You stood up from the cold floor and followed him. Steve informed the Avengers to go to the quinjet.

“Take a seat anywhere you want.” Steve says.

You watched Steve go to a different part of the quinjet to get something. You finally sat down after a few seconds. You put your feet on the seat and wrapped your arms around your legs. Steve came back with a blanket and wrapped it around you. You gave him a small smile as a thank you. Even though, Steve assured you that him and the Avengers aren’t going to hurt you, you aren’t ready to have a full conversation with him, which he understands. All of the Avengers got on the quinjet. They stared at you in confusion when they seen you. You avoided eye contact with them. You felt yourself getting smaller under their gaze.

“I didn’t know this turned into a rescue mission.” Tony says.

“I found her and I’m going to help her.” Steve says.

You were quiet during the whole flight to the Avengers compound. When you got to the compound with Steve and the Avengers, you were scared to go inside of the compound. You weren’t sure if it was safe or not. You stopped and stood at the exit of the quinjet, staring inside of the compound. Steve realized you weren’t walking with him and turned around to see you still standing in the quinjet.

“Is this place safe?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I promise you it’s more than safe.” Steve says softly.

Steve held his hand out for you. You stared at his hand for a few seconds before hesitantly putting your hand in his. You carefully stepped out of the quinjet and Steve led you inside of the compound. Steve took you to a spare bedroom and bathroom for you to get cleaned up and dressed in more comfortable and warmer clothes, which Natasha gave you to wear. Steve came to check on you afterwards. He walked in the bedroom to see you sitting against the headboard with your legs against your chest and your arms wrapped around them.

“Is it ok if I ask you some questions?” Steve asks.

You stared at him silently and nodded your head. He sat down on the bed next to you. You scrambled further away from him out of fear. You mumbled “sorry” to him. He gave you an understanding smile.

“What did HYDRA do to you?” He asks.

“They experimented on me for years and wanted to use me as a weapon. They experimented on me more and never used me as a weapon.” You tell him. “So many needles.” You mumbled to yourself.

“So you have powers?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes.

“What kind of powers do you have?” He asks curiously.

“I can make things disintegrate.” You say.

“What do you mean by they wanted to use you as a weapon?” He asks.

“They wanted to make me like the Winter Soldier.” You tell him. “I never met him though, but they told me a lot about him.” You say.

“I’m sorry you went through all of that. You didn’t deserve any of that. I want to assure you that you’re safe here and we’re not going to hurt you. I completely understand if you’re not ready with trusting any of us yet.” He says.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. Something about Steve is telling you that you can trust him, but you’re not sure yet. You’re willing to give it a try and take it step by step.

“Do you want a tour of the compound?” Steve asks.

You nodded. Steve stood up and walked to the door, opening it. You got off the bed and followed him out of the room. Steve started off with the kitchen and then took you to the gym. You got scared when he showed you the med bay. You stood outside of the med bay, not wanting to go in there cause of the needles and doctors.

“N-No.” You shook your head no.

Your breathing became uneven and your eyes watered. You were scared that Steve was going to take you in the med bay for a different reason. Images of being poked and prodded by HYDRA flashed in your mind.

“Please- Please don’t take me in there.” You say in a shaky voice.

Steve felt bad for showing you the med bay and skipped over it.

“Hey, it’s ok. Breathe for me.” Steve coos. “We won’t go in there. I’ll show you something else.” He says softly.

You nodded and got your breathing under control. You yelped and jumped when Jarvis started talking.

“Captain Rogers, you’re needed in the lounge room.” Jarvis says.

Steve went to the lounge room to see what he was needed for. You followed him. All of the Avengers were in there. They stared at you as you walked in the room. You hid behind Steve to avoid their gazes.

“Jarvis said you guys needed me.” Steve says.

“Yes, but we think it would be better if she wasn’t in here for it.” Natasha says, trying to sound nice as possible.

You frowned. Steve turned around to face you.

“Could you give us a moment please?” Steve asks softly.

You nodded and left the room, going back to your room.

“Why is she even here?” Tony asks.

“She’s here, because I want to help her.” Steve said. “I told you guys that earlier.” He says.

“How can you help her if she doesn’t talk to you?” Natasha asks.

“She talks a little bit. She just has a hard time trusting people. Just give her some time and you guys will see the progress she makes.” He says.

The Avengers sighed and agreed to give you a chance.

Over the next few weeks, you started talking to Steve a little more and began trusting him. Your instincts keep telling you that Steve is a very trusting person. You’re still not sure about trust the rest of the Avengers, but you’re trying to. You don’t talk to them either. When they talk to you, they don’t expect you to answer them. You nod your head and smile when they’re talking to you.

Steve has been helping you train. You’ll only train with him and no one else. He helped you control your powers and helped you use them the right way, instead of using them the way HYDRA told you to use them. He has also showed you a few moves of his own for fun. You rarely go on missions though. If you’re being honest, you like spending time with Steve. He makes training fun.

You also started to have feelings for him. In a way, it feels different to you, because you’ve never felt this way for anyone before you started trusting Steve. For now, you’re going to keep those feelings you have for Steve to yourself.

———

“Where are we again?” You whispered to Steve.

“Lagos. There’s a former HYDRA agent here and he’s going to do something he shouldn’t do.” Steve explains.

“Oh ok.” You say.

You and Steve were hiding out in a building while Sam was on top of the building keeping an eye out and Wanda and Natasha were trying to blend in with everyone else.

“Do you remember the plan?” He asks.

“Find somewhere safe to hide and come out of my hiding place when you say my name.” You say.

“Good.” He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He says.

You blushed when he kisses your forehead. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda were doing their parts of the mission while you were in your safe hiding spot. You had your head poked out of your hiding spot so you could see what was happening. You seen Steve walking towards a guy who was on the ground. He grabbed his tactical vest, pulling him up from the ground.

“You know he knew you. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky. I was there.” Brock tells Steve.

Steve’s jaw clenched when Brock mentioned Bucky.

“Y/N!” Steve says loudly.

You came out of your hiding place and ran over to Steve.

“Stay next to me.” He says softly.

You nodded and patiently waited for him to give you orders. Brock had some kind of remote in his hand that was the button to the bomb that was strapped to him. Wanda used her powers to get the bomb off of him and held it in the air.

“Y/N, now!” Steve tells you.

You held your hands up and disintegrated the bomb before it exploded. It went into pieces without an explosion. You smiled to yourself, proud that you were able to use your powers for something good.

You got praised for your amazing work on the way back to the compound. Everyone gave you hugs. It made you feel good.

“You keep training and keep up the amazing work, you might be able to go on more missions.” Steve says.

“Really?” You asked with a smile.

“Yes.” He says with a smile.

Instead of hugging him, you grabbed his face and kissed him. Steve was caught by surprise, but didn’t mind it one bit. It took you a couple seconds to realize that you were kissing him and pulled away. Your face was red with embarrassment.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” You apologized quickly. “I meant to hug you and then I did that!” You say

“Honestly, I’m happy that you kissed me.” Steve admits.

“Wha-” Steve kissed you before you could get one word out.

You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back. Your hands grasped the fabric of his mission suit, clutching it in your hands. Your lips moved in sync with his. Both of you could feel the love in the kiss. The kiss left both of you breathless when Steve pulled away.

“I like you!” You blurted out.

“I like you too.” Steve smiles.

“You do?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes. I have for a while.” He says.

You smiled and pecked his lips softly.

“I want to take you out on a date, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He says.

“I don’t mind, but I want to take things slow if that’s ok with you.” You say.

“That’s more than ok with me.” He almost whispers. “Do you want to go on a date this weekend?” He asks.

“I would love that.” You say with a smile.

Steve smiles and pecked your lips softly.

“Let get cleaned up, changed, and we can talk about where we should go on our date.” Steve says softly with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” You smiled back.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 19

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“Don’t you dare take the medicine they gave you!”

Your voice came out sharp, panic twisting every syllable. Your hands gripped the hospital bed's railing so tightly your knuckles turned white.

Ransom frowned. “What the fuck is going on? You’re freaking me out.”

“This will be the third time.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Ransom… My dad was diagnosed with cancer here by Dr. Stark. Almost a year of chemotherapy and medication. But I kept noticing something—cancer patients always seek second opinions. So I took him to see Alan.”

Ransom’s jaw clenched. He knew that name. Alan was a top-tier specialist, the kind people flew across the world to see.

You took a shaky breath and continued, “And my friend—misdiagnosed, too. The first doctor told him he wouldn’t be able to use his hand for six months. Then the second doctor checked and said it was bullshit—his injury wasn’t even that severe.”

Ransom’s stomach twisted. His back was already screaming in pain, but now a new fear crept in—was he even injured as badly as they claimed? Were they experimenting on him?

“That’s terrifying,” he muttered. His voice dropped lower. “I don’t want to fucking die because of this.”

You grabbed his wrist, your fingers pressing into his skin. “I’m afraid too. I don’t want you to become their test subject.”

Ransom exhaled sharply, then nodded. He squeezed your hand, his grip firm, steady. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

His gaze flickered with something unreadable before he added, “You should come with me.”

You shook your head. “I can’t.”

“Are you nuts?” His voice was sharper now, laced with frustration.

You exhaled. “Ransom, I have something to deal with.”

He was about to argue, but then you said it.

“The audit is incomplete. Needs an extra review.”

Ransom froze. His expression hardened. He wasn’t stupid—he knew exactly what that meant.

It was a code. A system you both had built working in finance, a way to alert each other when things got dangerous. Because let’s be real—most people with obscene amounts of money were crooked, and sometimes, that meant walking into situations that could get you killed.

This was Code One: "I’ve got an investigation going on. I’ll call you when I need help."

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Without another word, you turned and made a call. Right now, you were grateful you’d left this town and built connections that could make things happen with a single request.

Exactly one hour later, the sound of whirring blades filled the sky. A medical helicopter descended onto the hospital’s landing pad.

Ransom smirked as he sat up, wincing at the pain but pushing through it. “I’m only one call away.”

You met his gaze, your lips pressing together. “I knew I could count on you.”

As the helicopter doors slid shut, you stepped back, watching as the aircraft lifted off the ground and disappeared into the sky.

“Why did he leave so suddenly? He still needs treatment,” Bucky’s voice came from behind you.

You didn’t turn around. “His mother sent the helicopter for him.”

“Oh.” There was a pause, then Bucky asked, “You’re not going with him?”

You finally turned, shaking your head. “I can’t.”

His eyes studied you carefully.

“I’ll be staying to continue the deal.”

A small, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of Bucky’s lips. “Good. I assure you, your bank won’t regret investing in this town. Especially with the new hospital—it’ll help a lot of people.”

“And your dad could come back and get treated here.”

You froze mid-step at the mention of your father. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. “Yeah.”

Bucky hummed, watching you. “Are you heading home?”

“Yup.”

There was a pause. He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… so, actually—”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I was planning a surprise.”

Your stomach dropped. “What did you do, Bucky?”

His smirk deepened. “Well… I decided to renovate your house.”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. “What the fuck?!”

Bucky lifted his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But don’t worry—it's all on me.”

“What gave you the right to renovate my home without my permission? Or my dad’s?”

He didn’t flinch, staying perfectly calm. “Did you forget your dad agreed to give me the funeral home when he retired?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Yeah? But he’s not retired yet.”

“I bought it.”

The words hit you like a punch. Your mouth went dry. “So all this time… my dad’s just been living there for free?”

Bucky exhaled, his expression unreadable. “It’s… yeah. And I have no problem with that. I would never force Tom or you to leave.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding as you turned on your heel and headed toward your house.

He wasn’t joking.

The second you arrived, your stomach twisted. Construction workers were everywhere. The house had been completely renovated—even your room. Fresh paint, new furniture, everything different from what you remembered. It was like walking into someone else’s home.

You rubbed your temples. “Where the hell am I supposed to live now?”

Bucky stood beside you, unfazed. “You can stay at the hotel again.”

A deep sigh left your lips. “Fine.”

His smirk returned. “This one’s on me too. I’ll give you the best suite in the hotel.”

You shot him a pointed look. “You better.”

As you made your way downstairs, something caught your eye—a dusty old photo frame sitting on a table. You stepped closer, your breath hitching.

It was a picture of your mother.

The first time you’d ever seen one.

Other kids were in the photo, kids who were obviously older now. Your gaze traveled over their faces—there was a boy who looked like Bucky, which had to be Alex, then Tony, the mayor, and Mr. Rogers. And then, at the very back of the group, barely fitting into the frame, was your father.

Like an outcast.

Your mother, on the other hand, stood at the center like a queen, beautiful and radiant. It made you wonder—why did she choose your dad?

She could have had anyone.

“Don’t worry about Tony.” Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts. He must have assumed you were staring at Tony in the photo. “I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”

You glanced at him, nodding. “Thanks.”

That night, your new hotel suite was undeniably luxurious. Soft sheets, the perfect temperature, the best accommodations money could buy.

And yet, you would have preferred your old home.

What made it worse?

Bucky leaned casually against the doorway and smirked. “If you need anything, just knock. My room’s right next door.”

Your stomach sank.

Shit.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

You sighed, glancing at the door. If it was Bucky, you’d pretend you didn’t hear it. But when you peeked through the spy hole, relief washed over you—it was Jake Jensen.

You quickly unlocked the door and pulled him inside before he could even finish saying, “Hi—”

“Oh…” He blinked, adjusting his glasses. “I heard what happened to your friend. I’m sorry.”

“He’s fine.” You shut the door behind him. “Please tell me you’ve got something.”

Jake hesitated. He had the information you needed—you could see it in his eyes. But something was off.

“Yes.” His tone was uncertain.

Your stomach tightened. “But…?”

“I think it’s better if you meet my mother instead.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “She wants to meet you.”

You exhaled sharply. Of course. Miss Gossip herself.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Sloane sat in her worn armchair, knitting with steady, practiced hands. The dim lighting of the small parlor cast long shadows, giving the place an eerie, timeless feel. She barely glanced up as you and Jake entered, but you could tell—she already knew you were there.

With a quiet sigh, she adjusted her glasses and let her sharp gaze travel from your head to your toes.

“No matter what she did, you still look like her.”

You raised an eyebrow, cautiously taking a seat on the couch nearest to her. “You mean my mother?”

“Yes.” Her voice was calm but laced with something deeper—something knowing.

You exchanged a glance with Jake before turning back to her. “I heard from Jake that you have information about Stark and the mayor.”

Sloane gave a small nod, her fingers still working the yarn as if the conversation meant nothing. “It all comes back to your mother. Luna.”

Your stomach twisted at the name. “What did my mother do that made everyone in this town hate my dad and me?”

Sloane chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It’s not hate, child. It’s fear. Guilt has a way of turning into fear.”

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, setting her knitting down for the first time. “It all started the moment she arrived in this town.”

“Arrived?” You frowned.

“You probably don’t know this, but your mother was adopted.”

Your breath caught in your throat. A cold chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, you thought you misheard her. The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in.

Sloane watched your reaction carefully. “Judging by your face, I was right. You didn’t know.”

You could only shake your head.

She leaned forward slightly. “Your mother was adopted by the previous mortician—your step-grandparents.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly as shocked as you were.

“It happened fifty years ago,” Sloane continued. “A car accident on the outskirts of town. A young couple died on impact, but their child—Luna—survived. She was only three years old.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“The ones who took her in were your grandparents. They saw her as a blessing, a miracle, because they couldn’t have children of their own. And in a town like this, adoption was difficult—there were hardly any orphaned children. Even when there were, no child wanted to live in a funeral home.”

Sloane smirked slightly. “It scared them.”

You swallowed hard, your hands clenching into fists on your lap.

“But Luna… she was different. Your grandparents gave her everything—beautiful clothes, the best toys. They finally have a daughter so they spoiled her to death. And everyone noticed. Every child was jealous of her. And when she grew up, she became the most beautiful girl in town.”

Your voice came out quieter than you expected. “This is when she met Alex, right?”

Sloane nodded. “Not just him. Everyone. Everyone wanted to be her friend, to be near her. But they were jealous, too.”

She exhaled, eyes distant, as if recalling an old memory. “She was beautiful, just like her name. Like a goddess of the moon. People couldn’t look away. Men were drawn to her—sometimes against their better judgment.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Did they…?”

A grim expression crossed Sloane’s face. “Sadly, yes. More than one man tried. And their eyes… they never hid their lust when they looked at her.”

Your stomach churned.

“Alex,” Sloane said after a beat, “Bucky’s father… I remember him and Luna being a power couple. But he was possessive. He had to be—his closest friends wanted her, too.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You mean the other three? Including Mr. Rogers?”

Sloane scoffed. “That man? Please. He could only admire her from afar.”

She sighed, setting her knitting aside completely. “One day, Luna broke up with Alex. And she chose Tom instead.”

“Why?” you asked, almost breathless.

Sloane’s next words made your entire world tilt.

“Because she found out the truth.”

Your body tensed. “The truth?”

Sloane’s gaze locked onto yours, unflinching. “About the car accident that killed her parents.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “Alex was involved?”

“No. But his father was.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “Along with the other fathers in their little gang.”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping the armrests of the couch. Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

Sloane’s voice was quiet but razor-sharp. “Bucky is just like his father. And Alex? Just like his father. Like father like son. They were reckless. Popular. Untouchable. They drove like they owned the roads, ignoring every warning. The sheriff tried to stop them, told them not to drive under the influence.” She scoffed. “They didn’t listen.”

Your mind reeled. It all made sense now—why your mother left Alex, why your family was treated like outsiders.

Your mother’s real parents were killed by Alex’s father and his friends.

No wonder she couldn’t stay with him.

No wonder they feared you and your father.

You exhaled shakily. “And my dad?”

Sloane smiled faintly. “Ah, Tom. The quiet one. He was a runaway, just a lost boy. Your grandfather took him in, trained him to be a mortician. Nobody noticed him.”

Your chest tightened. “And when he got close to Luna?”

“He became their favorite punching bag.”

A deep, aching anger twisted inside you. Your nails dug into your palm.

Sloane studied you carefully. “Do you want to know why she truly chose him?”

You shook your head, but she told you anyway.

“Because he was the only man in town who didn’t look at her with lust. He respected her. Gave her space.”

She also chose Tom so her future children wouldn’t inherit her beauty. Luna saw her beauty as a curse. She doesn't want her child to suffer like her. But if she were still alive, she would be disappointed that her plan had failed. Look at your daughter now, Luna, Sloane thought as she watched you step into her house. She’s not as beautiful as you, but she carries the same confidence—the kind that draws everyone in, just like you did.

You inhaled sharply.

“That’s why they fear you,” Sloane continued. “Every time they see you or Tom, they remember what they did to her. And to him.”

Your jaw clenched. Every piece of the puzzle fit perfectly now, and it only made you hate this town more.

Sloane leaned back. “Now, about Stark. You should know—he was obsessed with your mother.”

You barely had time to process that before she dropped another bombshell.

“And the mayor?” She smirked. “Everyone knows he’s corrupt. But what people don’t talk about is the fact that he’s Thor’s real father.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?”

Jake finally spoke, his voice low. “Wait… how do you know all this?”

Sloane chuckled, picking up her knitting again. “Honey, I own a hair salon. My mother owned it before me. Do you know what that means?” She raised an eyebrow. “I hear everything. And let me tell you something—rumors? They’re always based on truth.”

Jake sighed, rubbing his temples. “Mom…”

“What about Natasha?” you asked.

Sloane’s mood soured instantly. “That snobby brat. She insulted my salon. I never liked her.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Thank you for telling me all this. But why now? Why are you helping me?”

Sloane grinned. “Because I heard you’re rich.”

Jake groaned. “Mom!”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Sloane shrugged. “I also saw your car.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. At least this made things easier. “What do you want, Mrs. Jensen?”

Sloane’s eyes gleamed. “A cruise. Around the world.”

Jake buried his face in his hands. “Mom, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

You chuckled, standing up and extending your hand. “You got it, Sloane. I’ll book you the best cruise money can buy. You won’t ever want to leave the ship.”

Sloane smirked, holding up the business card between her fingers. “This is what I’m talking about.”

You reached into your wallet, pulled out another card, and handed it to her. “Call this number. Give them my name. Then tell them exactly what you want.”

Sloane took the card, flipping it over with mild curiosity. When she read the title, her eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Vice President of Drysdale Co."

“Awesome.” She grinned, tucking the card into her apron pocket before standing up. Without another word, she headed toward the stairs, disappearing onto the second floor.

Jake let out a long breath beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’m sorry about my mom. She can be a bit much.”

You leaned back on the couch, stretching your arms over the backrest. “I don’t mind. Actually, I got everything I needed.”

Jake blinked at you, clearly surprised. “You did?”

You nodded. “More than I expected, actually.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah… that was a lot.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “Could you get someone to meet me?”

Jake’s posture straightened. “Of course. Who?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Natasha.”

At the Arcade

The neon lights flickered against the scuffed tile floor, casting an eerie glow over the buzzing machines. The scent of buttered popcorn and cheap soda lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of coins and the distant beeps of arcade games.

You leaned against a pinball machine, arms crossed, watching the entrance. People came and went, laughter and shouts filling the space, but you weren’t here for fun.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“I heard you wanted to see me?”

You turned your head, meeting Natasha’s sharp gaze. She stood near the entrance, arms crossed, exuding her usual air of arrogance.

“I am,” you replied smoothly, straightening up.

Natasha stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Well, here I am. So, what do you want?”

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@barnesxstan

@bxtchboy69

@lokislady82

@mrsnikstan

@calwitch

@thedonswife13

@calwitch

@otterlycanadian

@bonkybarnes106

@tinkrogers

@chimchoom

@winchestert101

@raajali3

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist

[galway-girlatwork]

Smells Like…

Fandom: The Mentalist-AU

Rating: Mature. Angst. Smut. Angst. Mush. Angst.

Central Characters: Marcus P. and Female Reader

Central Relationship: Marcus P. and Female Reader

Word Count: 2,668

AO3

This was written for Jana and Daphne’s Writing Through The Season’s challenge. I got Marcus Pike in Winter and the prompt was “Smells Like Jealousy.” So, grab whatever tickles your tongue and enjoy. If this is not your shot of whisky, scroll on by.

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal the moodboard. It was a gift. Stealing is just WRONG. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform. If this is not your shot of whisky, scroll on by. If you wanna read, grab whatever tickles your tongue and enjoy.

Music Inspiration:

Fallout-Mariana’s Trench

Can’t Forget You- My Darkest Days 

Lips of Angel-Hinder

Summary:

Marcus had always told himself he wasn’t the jealous type until her. He told himself she was gone for good, that she had moved on. But when he sees her at an art exhibit a year later, with another man, something inside him snaps. The jealousy, the longing, the love he never let go of all crashes down on him.

One heated confrontation later and the past proves impossible to ignore. The chemistry is still electric, the connection undeniable. But Marcus isn’t willing to let her slip away this time. As passion ignites and old wounds resurface, he makes one thing clear—he wants her back.

But is Marcus willing to risk his heart one more time to find out?

Marcus had never been the jealous type. Or at least, that’s what he’d always told himself. He was calm, rational, someone who took heartbreak like a man and moved on. Maybe that was a slight over exaggeration, when in reality he always felt like someone who’d been kicked to many time in the ribs, protecting that heart that beat furious in his chest. Until he met her. Someone who’d truly stolen his heart, his soul, like a thief before disappearing with both.

They’d been together for two years before he ended it, thinking it was what she wanted, the demands of his job finally getting to her. He knew it was a fear, not an irrational one, that she had. That one day someone would show up at the front door and tell her the unimaginable. What he didn’t expect was for her to take that out and go radio silent for a year. He’d given her time, space, hoping she’d come back. He had buried himself in work, pretended he didn’t check his phone late at night, hoping for a text that never came. He had told himself she was probably out there, happy, moving on—just like he should be.

But here he was, a year later, at some stupid art exhibit that the higher ups wanted him at. How it would look good to see the Feds there, making sure they were all safe while they drank watered down champagne, mingled and stared at God awful art.

The place was packed, air thick with conversation and the scent of expensive perfume, the kind that induced migraines, not caring if the pain crippled you or not. It’s why he was at the corner of the bar, water in hand, praying the six Advil he took would put him in a better mood.

But then he saw her.

His breath caught in his throat, and for a second, his pulse pounded so hard he could hear it. She looked beautiful, radiant in a navy dress that hugged her curves, curves he used to trace with his hands. That familiar way she tilted her head, the way she smiled—God, he had missed that smile.

But she wasn’t alone.

His stomach turned to stone as he watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing at something the man beside her had said. Tall. Polished. Probably some lawyer or broker, someone with soft hands and an easy life. Someone who hadn’t spent years chasing criminals across the world.

He hadn’t expected jealousy to burn through him so hard and fast that it stole his breath. His jaw clenched, forcing himself to look away but he knew it was useless. It was like watching a car accident, one you couldn’t look away from, one that caused back-ups on the highways. Fuck, he thought, it had been a year and he had no right to feel this way. No right to feel the sudden, savage possessiveness clawing its way through his chest.

And yet, when she turned and met his eyes, her smile faltering for a second and he knew. Knew that he wasn’t the only one still haunted by the past.

He didn’t think, didn’t give himself a chance to reconsider. He was walking toward her before he even realized what he was doing.

“Marcus.”

His name had never sounded like a warning before.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, keeping his tone even, careful. He didn’t acknowledge the man beside her, didn’t even bother looking at him.

Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. That hesitation was all he needed.

“You look good,” Marcus murmured, stepping closer.

She swallowed, her gaze flickering over his face like she was trying to gauge his mood. “So do you.”

“Really?” His voice dipped, rougher than he meant it to be. “Because I feel like hell.”

She blinked. “Marcus—”

“No.” He exhaled sharply

He took another step, closing what little distance remained between them, voice dropping lower, just for her. “You really think I stopped loving you?” he whispered.

Her eyes shone, and for the first time in a year, Marcus felt like he could breathe again.

Her date extended a hand. “Hey, I’m—”

Marcus didn’t so much as glance at him. He couldn’t. He wasn’t interested in this man’s name; in whatever role he played in her life.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Seriously?”

Marcus’s lips curled. “What?”

“You’re glaring,” she said, arching a brow. “And it smells like jealousy in here.”

Marcus stepped closer, so close that if she just leaned in, her body would be pressed against his.

“It should,” he murmured. “Because I’m drowning in it.”

Her breath caught as silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating, before she looked away, biting her lip. That damn lip. How many times had he kissed it, traced his thumb over it, stolen her breath just by looking at her?

Marcus saw the way her fingers twitched at her side, how she swallowed hard like she was trying to keep her composure but she couldn’t hide from him. Not after everything they had been. Not after the way he used to know every inch of her.

Before she could recover, Marcus leaned in, his lips barely ghosting over the shell of her ear.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dark, possessive. “Does he touch you the way I did?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Marcus—”

“Does he know,” Marcus pressed, his fingers grazing down the inside of her wrist, sending a shiver through her body, “that you like to be kissed right—here?”

He brushed his lips just below her ear, and she let out the softest, most infuriatingly beautiful gasp.

It nearly broke him.

Her date cleared his throat awkwardly. “I think maybe I should—”

Marcus turned his head, gaze cold, sharp. “Yeah. You should.”

The man hesitated for a moment before putting his hand up in surrender, stepping back, muttering something under his breath, neither one of them acknowledging his exit. They were too busy staring at each other. Too busy feeling the weight of what still lingered between them.

Her hand found Marcus’s wrist before he could say anything else. “Not here,” she whispered.

Something in her eyes sent a jolt of hope through him. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she wasn’t as over him as she wanted to be, the air between them still suffocatingly thick, heavy with things left unsaid.

Reaching for her hand, his grip firm, unyielding. “Come with me.”

Her breath was unsteady. “Marcus—”

“Now.”

She could have refused but she didn’t. She let him lead her outside, down the quiet side street, away from prying eyes and unwanted interruptions.

And when he turned, pressing her against the cool brick wall, his hands braced on either side of her, she didn’t push him away. She should have but she didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her chin, her breath shaky but defiant. “You don’t get to do this,” she whispered. “You don’t get to walk in here after a year and act like you still own me.”

“You don’t get to pretend,” Marcus interrupted, his voice rough with need. “You don’t get to stand there and act like I don’t still own every inch of you.” He watched, smirking, as she swallowed hard, fingers trailing up her arm, slow and deliberate. “Tell me to stop.”

He leaned in, lips ghosting over hers. “Say it,” feeling her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

Silence, eyes flashing with something desperate and raw. She was shaking.

“Tell me he touches you better.” His voice a challenge, his hands tightening on her hips. “Tell me he fucks you better.”

A broken noise slipped from her lips, and Marcus nearly lost his damn mind as her hands fisted his shirt, yanking him closer. “I hate you for this,” she whispered.

He smiled darkly. “No, you don’t.” Before he heard her whisper, “I never stopped wanting you.”

His lips crushed against hers, swallowing whatever words might have come next, feeling her melt against him, completely, utterly, like she had been waiting for this, starving for it. Hands slid up his chest, threading through his hair, pulling him deeper.

Like something dangerous, something forbidden, like something she still wanted.

That spark still lingered, a flame that had never fully extinguished.

“Come home.” Was all he whispered against her lips.

As soon as they were inside, he turned to her, pulling her close, hands cupping her face gently as he leaned in close, lips brushing against hers softly, like no time had passed at all.

Tongues tangled in a familiar dance as they continued to kiss deeply, room spinning around them as passion ignited like wildfire as they stumbled backward until they reached the bedroom. He pushed her onto the bed, body following hers, chests heaving with desire, eyes locked on each other. Deft fingers curled into the fabric of the dress, peeling it from her shoulders, baring breasts hidden beneath black lace, knowing the panties would match, since the set was a gift from him.

Fingers grazed against sensitive areas he knew would make her shiver, feeling her arch into him as he pulled the lace down, nipple already puckered, demanding attention. Lips wrapped around it, mouth pulling it deep into his mouth, knowing what it did to her. Clothes were pulled off so fast, buttons flew across the room, pinging as they hit the wood floor.

The need to possess her, filled every cell within his body, pushing what control he had out the window, each second that passed was fucking torture, wanting to remind her of where she belonged, with him, in his life. Reaching out, a finger traced her sternum, trailing down her stomach before slipping inside her body, feeling her clench around it, before adding a second digit, curling them up, finding that spot just behind her pelvic bone, just as his mouth latched on to the other nipple, his name falling from her lips like a chant. He could feel her hands in his hair, holding him to her, as her hips jerked against his hand, body begging for release.

So, in tune with her body, he knew she was on the edge, but he wanted to push her to her limits, hear her scream his name and beg for more. Was it his way of punishing her for the last year of hell he’d lived in? Possibly but it could be the way he loved watching her, bucking against his hand, breaths labored and quick, that bottom lip tucked between her teeth. It could be that he had fallen so deeply in love with her. Was he an idiot? Probably.

Moving off of her, hearing whimpers of protest, he stood at the edge of the bed, looking down on her. “Hands and knees. Now.” Her eyelids grew heavy as she turned over on her stomach, loving how she gave up control so easily to him, that slight edge of darkness and possessiveness surged through him.  

Hands grasped her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he positioned himself behind her. God how he loved when her back arched, head bowed almost to the bed, before one of his hands released its grip on her hip, sliding up her back, his fingers intertwining in her hair, giving her hair a gentle tug, pulling her head back slightly. “God you are so fucking beautiful.”

His other hand remained on her hip, thumb tracing the curve of her lower back before suddenly, his palm came down on her ass with a sharp slap, the sound echoing through the room, he heard her gasp, feeling her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed into the sensation.

With a swift motion, he drove himself into her, body merging with hers as he began to move in a rhythmic cadence. His hands returned to her hips, holding her in place as he thrust deeper, the air filling with the sound of labored breathing, of skin slapping skin as they moved together.

Continued thrusts into her, bodies began to tense, movements becoming more frantic and urgent. Her hands clenched into fists, arms trembling as she supported her weight, while his grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging deep into her skin that he knew would be bruised come morning. He could feel her shuddering, feel her cunt contracting around him as she came, his name screamed into the air before low, keening cries escaped her lips before her head dropped to the bed, voice now muffled by the bedding as her body continued to convulse.

His thrusts became shorter and more intense as he felt himself building towards his own release, arm wrapping around her waist, fingers finding her clit, the pad of his middle finger, gently rubbing against it, knowing how sensitive she was. With one final, powerful thrust of his hips, they both fell off the edge, sweat soaked bodies shaking with the intensity of what just happened. As the last waves of their orgasms faded, his body collapsed on top of hers, pressing her into the bed, as he held her close, lips trailing across her shoulders, as they slowly relaxed, trying to catch their breath. He could feel her beneath him, trying to adjust to the weight of his body, his arms loosening as he rolled to the side, but still holding her against him.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting silver streaks across the sheets tangled between them, skin still warm from where they'd been pressed together, Marcus now lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, watching her in the dim glow. She was quiet, staring at the ceiling like she was already thinking of slipping away before dawn.

“Don’t,” he murmured, voice low but firm.

She turned towards him, brows lifting slightly. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t run.” He traced a slow path down her arm, fingers brushing the familiar curve of her wrist.

A flicker of hesitation in her eyes betraying her, before she lowered her head. “Marcus…”

“I mean it.” He shifted closer, his fingers curling under her chin, making her look at him. “I let you go once. I told myself it was for the best, because you were afraid, you didn’t want to know what could happen if you got that visit. But that was a lie. I never stopped wanting you. And I think—no, I know—you never stopped wanting me either.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Marcus, this isn’t that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” he countered, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “You belong with me. You always have and you know it.”

Closing her eyes, breath shuddering slightly. He could almost feel the war inside her, the push and pull between instincts and heart. When she opened them again, something softer lurked there beneath the guarded exterior. Something that looked dangerously close to hope.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you don’t want this. Say you don’t love me, and I’ll let you go.” Silence stretched between them, thick and electric.

But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t say it. She loved him. More than her life. A life that would be a shell if something ever happened to him.

Instead, her lips parted, voice barely above a whisper. “I fucking hate you for knowing me this well.”

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “No, you don’t.”

Sighing, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. “I can’t say those things Marcus because they would be lies and you know it. It’s never been about loving you, belonging to you…It’s always been about the what if.”

“I know baby. I love you. Come home and we’ll figure it out. Promise.”

He watched as she moved over him, lips brushing against his, whispers between them of yes’s and love you’s before they showed each other that there never really be a good-bye between them.

@guiltyasdave @sizzlingcloudmentality @jessthebaker @tinyglamdramaqueen @almostfoxglove @pedgito @whocaresstillthelouvre @iamasaddie @burntheedges @ease-out-the-clutch @beefrobeefcal @toomanystoriessolittletime @pearlessance @littlemisspascal @goodwithcheese @burntheedges @jolapeno @604to647 @missladym1981 @kittyfox1107 @secretelephanttattoo

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Manny doesn't just care about Abby the way comrades do. He cares about her as a person.

Despite the turbulence of Abby being lost, hurt and absolutely running herself into the ground, he sees her. He meets her there.

And he also knows she's too damn stubborn for her own good, but that, my friends, is the price of unconditional loyalty.

Manny is one of the few people in Abby's life who isn't constantly demanding something from her.

He doesn't always agree with her choices, but he's willing to walk through the fire by her side. Once you understand this, it really opens up the depth of Manny’s character and their friendship.

It goes both ways, as you’ll experience later on during the sniper conflict.

If you play the game and really sit in this scene, and this entire section of her storyline, really... I think it’s worthwhile to pay close attention to the things neither of them dares to say. It’s rather incredible, actually.

In rare form for Abby, their silence isn’t based on miscommunication and unresolved tension.

The unspoken concerns are felt and acknowledged.

They simply don’t need to go there. They accept each other without pretense, even when it sucks.

That level of trust rarely requires words. Manny knows how Abby's mind works and how her heart refuses to let go. He's seen it time and again. When she decides something, there's no shaking her from it.

Is it because they are cut from the same cloth?

Here's the thing most people miss about this part.

Manny says:

"I’m coming with you."

He absolutely would’ve done so. But reluctantly, he stays behind, because it's his duty, and because it's strategy. But there's more to it. Sure, he's her alibi with their leader, holding things down at the base, but he's also looking out for the bigger picture.

Manny is a protector, too.

He's consistently been Abby's rock, always there to pull her back from the edge, even when she resists the help. Manny balances respecting her decisions with his affection for her, and he does it without fear of calling her out.

He challenges Abby but he doesn't withdraw affection from her when the outcome doesn't fit his vision. One of my favourite aspects of their relationship.

I'm willing to bet that sending her out there alone goes against everything Manny's instincts are screaming at him. If you notice the tidbits the other WLF characters mention after the fact, this point is emphasized.

Manny is worried sick while she’s gone.

It's my interpretation that his genuine concern and connection with Abby plays a major role in his tone here.

Normally, he'd suit up and follow her straight into battle. Fuck Isaac, fuck their obligations.

But he can't.

Maybe he fears this will be her undoing. Maybe he also worries that if he joins her, they won't have a home to come back to, and they've both already been through that devastating loss.

And then Abby says:

"I've done this before."

And okay, she's got to be the most stubborn, blindly determined girl in existence. But there’s a reason for it.

Abby has this internalized idea that she can handle things on her own because she has, for the most part, always done so. Many people have come to expect this level of independence from her. Looking at you mother freaking Isaac.

Manny’s rebuttal?

"Not with this many Scars in the area."

Well, there might as well be an exclamation mark at the end of this one. Manny's immediate concern has never been whether Abby is capable.

He knows she is.

But he's just being realistic, which is something Abby often struggles with when faced with her heavy emotions. Manny is looking at the overall risk here. He isn't dismissive and frustrated.

He's scared for her.

"Manny, please."

That shift in her voice. What I think she's really saying here?

Manny, I need you to understand.

"Alright. You know best."

You could interpret this as sarcasm, and I think if you play the game without caring much about the tone or their dynamic, it's easy enough to do.

That's not what I hear.

Manny doesn't lecture her further or fight her on this because he trusts her. That type of love comes from knowing someone so deeply that even when you don't agree with them, you stand by them anyway.

I would kill to see someone break down Manny's inner conflict throughout the larger scene. There's so much to observe and yet most of what we seem to get is a bunch of bullshit about how the WLF crew has no personality.

Perhaps the issue isn't the WLF crew.

There is depth to Abby and her friends. You don't have to look that hard to find it.

You’re allowed to want things for the people you care about, even if they ultimately choose a different path—and you? You can still choose to support them through it.

[babsworlds]

PILLS & HOMEWORKS.

pairing. Simon Kalivoda x fem! reader

synopsis. Simon asks you out in awkward situation.

warnings. addiction, pills as drugs, pre relationship.

babs’ notes. it’s almost 2am, i finished rewatching fear street and my Fred Hechinger obsession is taking over again. This is bad as I’m trying to get over a little writer’s block sorryy

YOU WERE ONE OF THE BEST STUDENTS OF SHADYSIDE HIGH SCHOOL, working tirelessly to escape that cursed city someday. Your achievements were impressive, but they came at a cost. Unfortunately, you were addicted to pills, and without them, you felt incapable of doing anything.

The pressure to succeed and the fear of failure drove you to rely on those pills, even though you knew it wasn't sustainable. Each day was a battle between maintaining your high performance and dealing with the consequences of your addiction.

It didn’t take long for you to find a dealer, Simon Kalivoda. He was a bit of a weirdo, always hanging out with the extra outsiders. His low attendance and even lower grades made him a familiar face in detention rather than in the classrooms.

You weren’t rich, obliviously when you lived in Shadyside, so money for those pills was a bit of a problem. Desperation led you to offer Simon a deal: homeworks for pills.

And it worked.

Simon, despite his quirks, was more than willing to accept your offer. He wasn’t interested in schoolwork, but he knew the value of good grades. Your arrangement became a lifeline for both of you—he got the homework he needed to scrape by, and you got the pills that kept you going.

Today was finally the day of another deal. This time, it was in the school bathroom when everyone was supposed to be in class. The anticipation had been building up for days, and you could hardly wait any longer.

The last few days without your magic meds had left you feeling exhausted and barely able to function. The weight of your addiction was heavy, and you knew that getting your hands on those pills was the only way to regain some semblance of normalcy.

As you made your way to the restroom, you could feel a sense of relief washing over you. Each step brought you closer to the moment you had been desperately waiting for. You opened the door and there he was. The classic black combat boots, weird bracelets, and painted nails made Simon easy to spot. He stood there, leaning against the sink.

You breathed out, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety. “Uh— hi,” Simon said awkwardly as he saw you, his voice breaking the silence in the empty bathroom. His eyes darted around, making sure no one else was around to witness the exchange.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “You got the stuff?” The question hung in the air, the weight of your dependence on those pills evident in your tone.

Simon nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out the familiar bottle of pills. “Like always. You got the homework?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but still smiling at you.

“Yeah,” you trailed off, pulling the assignment papers from your backpack. “Math it is,” you smiled awkwardly, handing the papers to him. God, why is it so awkward all of a sudden?

Simon took the papers, glancing at them briefly before tucking them into his bag. You finally took the little orange bottle you had longed for days from his hand, smiling to yourself as you hid it in your pocket. The relief was almost immediate, knowing that you had what you needed to get through the day.

“So, how have you been?” Simon asked, starting a new conversation which you didn’t expect. Normally, there were no conversations, just the exchange of each other’s needs.

“Miserable,” you shrugged casually, trying to downplay the struggle you had been facing. “Could hardly get up in the morning,” you admitted, exhaustion in your voice.

“I get that,” Simon said, his expression softening as if he wasn’t the one who had kind of made you addicted to these things.

You didn’t really want to ask back; there was no reason, and it was too awkward. “I need to go,” you excused yourself as you turned around.

“Wait, Y/n,” Simon’s voice broke your decision to leave. You paused, turning back to face him, curiosity and annoyance mixing inside you.

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “Hm?” you mumbled as your gaze met his. As you looked into his blue eyes, you realized you could maybe stare into them all day. There was something captivating about the way he looked at you, a depth that you hadn't noticed before.

“I wondered maybe if you-um,” he trailed off, his eyes leaving yours as he searched for words. His nervousness was palpable, and you could see the effort it took for him to continue. “I wondered if you wanted to go out,” he finally managed to say, gulping as he finished.

The question hung in the air, and you could feel your heart race a little. This was unexpected, and it took a moment for you to process. Simon had always been the guy who sold you pills, not someone you considered dating. But standing there, seeing him, something shifted inside you.

You smiled softly, feeling a mix of emotions. “Are you asking me out on a date, Simon?” you asked, wanting to be sure you understood him correctly.

“I guess I am,” he shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. His cheeks were red, a rare sight that made him look almost endearing.

You looked at him, not wanting to give your answer yet. “I thought we were just dealing homeworks,” you said, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of skepticism.

“Yeah, of course,” Simon said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I think you’re interesting.” He said as his eyes were fixed on you.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden honesty. “I want to get to know you more, Y/n,” Simon continued, his blue eyes meeting yours. The sincerity in his gaze made you feel something in your stomach, a flutter of emotions you hadn’t expected.

You gave him a playful smile. “Give me your number,” you said, handing him a marker. It was evident that he was hungry for your answer, but you weren’t going to give it to him that easily. You wanted to keep him guessing, at least for a little while longer.

You held out your arm as he began to write his number on your forearm with the black marker. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, and you couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement at the contact.

“There you go,” Simon said, finishing the last digit. He capped the marker and handed it back to you, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll call you,” you said with a teasing smile. Simon gave you a small nod, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and anticipation.

As you walked away, you could feel Simon’s eyes wandering over you. The awareness of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was something thrilling about the unexpected turn of events.

[thueenz]

Weekly PAC reading~✰

I felt called to do this reading today. I had to figure out how to word my intent for it, I think I got close enough in the end :P

Remember:

-This is a collective reading. Not everything will click with you, and these readings are done with the intent to reach who it needs to for a specific group, or even just one person! And that might not be you. Read through and take the advice as it clicks with you; they aren't as in depth as a personal reading.

-Pick a group off intuition and read through, or whatever other method works for you!

-You're free to talk to me about what you feel from the readings and if one clicks well with you, I might be able to offer more insight!

The intent for today's reading the path of coming out of your shell

Pick whatever deck calls to you. You can focus on the stones, or the deck themselves, or both. Now, find your group with the matching stone. They are ordered left to right.

Pile 1:

The shell you have created for yourself is one of distraction through working. You pour yourself into your job, into material wealth and status, convinced that you have to and frankly that it is time better spent than trying to make friends with others. You believe you are meant to be alone, and that friendships are simply too much trouble. Pressure weighs on you from outside sources, possibly family, to be their idea of a 'breadwinner' that can handle it all.

Truthfully, you are lonely, and afraid to reach out in case it fails you. You feel ready to give up on relationships, love, connection; but don't! It's out there for you! You don't have to give up on things so easily just because it didn't work out the first time or because you had a disagreement. You will never please everyone, all the time, so stop trying! Be you! Be firm, and the people that love you for YOU will stay for that!

Coming out of your shell will cause your life to open up. The work you focus so much time into will flourish as you take better care of yourself, and you will become grounded in yourself. Others will see that stability and be drawn to you. You are strong, intelligent, and grounded; you just have to let go of the fixations and fears that cling to your mind.

Pile 2:

The shell you've created for yourself is one of imbalance, and lack of trust. Your sense of worth and self love is low, and your sense of security in the people around you is poor. You find yourself disconnected from the idea of relationships, retreating in on yourself.

But it's beyond that, too. You've lost faith in the world, your future, yourself— You may see no point to it all, and you can't understand why the things that happen to you happen.

There is a world beyond what you've experienced. There is a deep heartbreak, loss, and betrayal that continues twisting the metaphorical knife in your own wound. It's time to let go. The hurt is over, and it can be over. Let the wound heal, and pick yourself up when you've rested. It's over, and something new can come for you.

You'll be alone at first. But it will be better than being with the energy you were before. There is peace to be found in working alone, even if it is not ideal. Look to the future and take care of yourself until the world opens up for you once again. It will.

This reading held a distinct energy and presence. I believe it was a reading guided by a spirit or being in your life that wanted to send you a message.

Pile 3:

The shell you have created for yourself is one lacking faith. You lack faith in your future, in the people around you, in the universe— you become so focused on what you don't have and the wrongs that have been done to you that you lose sight of the good, and in focusing on only what you lack you miss the chance to obtain what you want.

Hard times have come to you in the past and likely in the present as well. In the past you experienced neglect, a lack of help in your weakest moments. Experiencing hardships yet again, you've gotten yourself stuck in the same pattern. Often there is not a lack of helping hands in the world, sometimes you just have to ask for it. It is a scary thing to do, and can fill you with shame— but it is necessary. Reach for help, and help will find you.

To break this shell you must let go of the past and embrace change. You do not need to hold onto these ideas that don't serve you, or the person you think you are. Let them go. Become someone new, someone stronger and kinder and more you.

You'll find it becomes easier to stand your ground and put your foot down. This is me, is the energy you can grow into. It won't be immediate, and there will be bumps in the road. But if you stay determined and hold strong through it all, you will find contentment and stability at the end of the path.

[toastsartcornerthesequel]

Bart Allen's impending fear that everyone he loves will either leave him or die VS. Kon's fear that he'll never be good enough for his partners. FIGHT!!

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 26

someday if i can figure out how the hell people get these things made i would like to do some little destiny & malice acrylic charms. i think those are so fun. and while i mostly want them for Myself i figure that if i DID figure out the process, i should maybe open up the option to anyone else that might want them, soooo...

informal poll: if i figure out how all that works, would any of y'all be into that, and approximately how many of you?

[tomatoluvr69]

Sitting down to floss and brush my teeth has been lifechanging. On a completely unrelated note how the fuck am I supposed to have this skeleton for several more decades. It’s all over for me lads 😔

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[gammija]

ive been trying for 30 mins to write a post about why the Web's plan is still confusing, but I think I should face the truth and admit to myself that it's not that it makes no sense, it's just... so convoluted

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.