#this isn't me claiming we were meant to be. it's about him and he's got this.... presence. this aura. and it's very captivating

[schnaf]

day 23 aka THE COUNTDOWN IS OVER - jungsu's past birthday brrrr ppoppos

[jewishvitya]

When this says Israelis don't empathize with Palestinians. A warning for racism and heavy dehumanization.

And I'm going to reiterate the reminder that I grew up in the settlements in the West Bank, I lived the most extreme version of everything.

I remember being a kid and being taught that Palestinians don't care about their children. I was taught they see their children as tools of war. A Palestinian child was a weapon meant to kill me. There were political cartoons of Palestinian mothers strapping suicide bombing belts to their children.

And so when we saw a video of a Palestinian parent grieving the death of a child, it was claimed to be a performance. The language was things like "look at how they're milking it." I was taught not to believe their grief. How far do you have to dehumanize a person, to think a parent's grief over their child isn't genuine.

When I was a teenager on my first job at a bakery, I had a Palestinian coworker. He showed me pictures of his wife and his son, and I was confronted with the fact that he was a proud and loving father to a healthy and happy toddler.

He was very kind. I was awful at paying attention to the time, but he noticed when I was working for too long. He'd make me a sandwich and tell me to take a break. He often sat with me and we'd talk. Compare kosher laws with halal, chat about similarities and differences. He taught me how to check grain correctly before cooking it.

I told my family members about him. They told me he's trying to seduce me, to steal me away, and urged me to be careful. "They can never really be your friends."

When I got married, I told him "next time you see me, I'll be wearing a headscarf" (because for Jewish religious women it's usually a married thing) and he was so unbelievably happy for me. We talked about how regal headscarves look. It's how I always felt wearing them.

I told my family members. They kinda rolled their eyes and said "maybe he's one of the good ones."

The mentality is כבדהו וחשדהו. "respect them, and suspect them." I don't see respect, but I do see how every Palestinian is treated as untrustworthy. And it's so pervasive that my child was told this by a teacher.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

How OP men would react after finding out you have an aggressive stalker || Shanks and King

some maritime terms I used

"This is my fault," you mumble, looking morosely at the charred remains of the ship's cargo and the apron.

"What?" Shanks asked incredulously.

Tears came to your eyes as you confessed that you've had a stalker, Charles, for several years. Charles had forced you into a life of piracy just to escape his unwanted and increasingly violent advances after he burnt your house down.

Shanks felt breathless, he had had no idea that you went through anything so horrid. To him, you had always been so cheery and carefree. "Wait, didn't you say your pet died in a house fire?" He mumbled. You nodded your head, avoiding eye contact with your captain. Rage filled Shanks's chest, not only had this bastard, Charles, burnt the only cargo the crew could afford at the moment, but he had hurt your pet and forced you into a dangerous profession just to escape him. Shanks put his anger aside because he could see you were clearly scared of this man. "What's he look like, Love?" He asked as he tucked a knuckle under your chin and tilted your head to look at him.

After you gave Shanks your stalker's wanted poster, he assigned Benn to stay by your side, just in case your stalker came back. Meanwhile, Shanks and the rest of the crew combed the island for Charles. They eventually found him holed up in a sea cave only a mile south of the harbor, where the crew grouped up and descended upon him. Rockstar and Yassop threw Charles at Shanks's feet while he thrashed and yelled, "Leave me alone, you bastards!"

Shanks leaned down from the rock he was sitting on, grabbed a fistful of the stalker's hair, pulled him up to his face, and quietly growled. "Do you know who I am?"

Charles curled his lip in mock disgust and sneered, "Someone in desperate need of a breath mint." His retort earned him a swift punch to the jaw from Shanks, who reiterated his question. "Do you know who I am?"

"Red Haired Shanks," Charles submitted, going limp on the ground, "An emperor of the sea."

"Uh huh, that's right, and it seems you've been giving my crew mate, and good friend, a hard time." Shanks replied, "And I'm here to put a stop to that."

Charles lunged at Shanks and screamed, "They're mine! Not yours! I will have them even if it's the last thing I do!"

After easily batting away Charles's hand, Shanks hummed, "Is that so?" as he pulled his sword out of its sheath.

Shanks returned later that night with enough Berry to replace the cargo and still have enough left over to give you a month's worth of your usual pay.

It was the Fire festival again, which meant all the Beast pirates, from near and far, flocked to Wano to party at Kaido's place. While most of the crew loved this time, you did not love it, because it meant he'd be there. The Wano's minister of commerce, Yukimaru, was one of Orochi's entourage and your stalker. He always got way too grabby with you for your liking. You thankfully only saw him a few times a year, mostly for work.

"You don't look happy," King noted.

You glanced up at him and grumbled, "You usually don't have a problem with my unhappiness, you delight in it, in fact."

King fiddled with his cuff links and huffed, "I only delight in the unhappiness I cause."

"Good to know," you chuckle.

King crouched down to look you in the eye, and said, "I am concerned because everyone loves the fire festival, even I kind of like it. But you seem too eager to return to your room tonight, which isn't like you because you are normally more excited about parties than I am. Something must be bothering you, so spill it so we can party."

You sighed and told him about your problems with Yukimaru, even confiding in him about how Yukimaru had cornered you and ripped your shirt before last month's finance meeting.

"So the rumors are true, then," King muttered to himself, rubbing his chin and explaining, "I heard a few of the servants talking, one of them claimed Yukimaru was pursuing someone, who was rejecting his advances. Another servant claimed that when Yukimaru heard of this person's whereabouts, he'd always race there to meet them, even if they didn't want to see him. One of them even claimed that Yukimaru has a reputation for violence and coercion in the Red-Light District." He hummed for a moment, before turning to the Mary next to him and ordering her to tell Yukimaru to meet the two of you in his office.

"Why would you do that? I just told you I didn't want to see him!" You snap, outraged that he'd tell your stalker where you were.

"Unfortunately I can't kill him based on your word alone, so I'm setting a trap, now wait while I hide in the closet. When he comes and misbehaves, I'll stab him." King clarified, before tucking his wings behind him as he wedged himself into the wardrobe behind his desk.

Shortly after, you heard Yukimaru thundering down the hallway. Each footstep filled you with dread because the man terrified you. A moment later, the door slid open and Yukimaru self stepped inside. Yukimaru was a head shorter than King, and a great deal taller than you. He gave you a toothy grin, and said, "There you are, I've been looking for you. The Mary said King was here." Sauntering towards you, his sharp eyes devoured you.

"... He stepped out for a minute." You replied, trying to resist the urge to run for the door as Yukimaru plopped down on the couch beside you. Your will remained strong until he put his arm over your shoulders, without thinking you bolted for the door, only to be pinned down to the floor by the large man. "Where do you think you're going? I just got here, why don't we play together while we wait for your boss to come back?" Yukimaru trailed his fingertips along your shirt for a brief moment before his body was ripped away from yours with a swift kick from King. He pointed his sword at Yukimaru's chest and said, "Go enjoy your party while I deal with this trash."

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[mncxbe]

# pm!dazai who has a crush on his partner/rival ݁ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: jealous, slightly posessive dazai, mild enemies to lovers, dazai and his complicated feelings

"i can't believe you actually have a crush on Chibi. what's so special about him?" huffed the brunette, leaning against the lamppost behind him. the dim, golden light bounced off his brown curls, illuminatung his downcast expression.

"what, are you jealous?" you retorted, earning a scowl from Dazai. "don't be ridiculous."

it was mere hours ago that your archenemy found out that Chuuya asked you out on a date. an insignificant thing, really, but it vexed him. what on earth could you possibly see in that redhead midget? he just had to know, and as petty as it might be, he was dead set on changing your mind about going on that date. even if it meant following you back home and talking things out with you in front of your apartment at 9 p.m.

"i'm just saying, Nakahara isn't your type. i know it" argued the brunette, crossing his arms over his chest. "he's temperamental, immature, totally unfunny and shorter than you"

"maybe i'm into guys like that" you shrugged absentmindedly, applying an extra layer of gloss on your plump lips.

Dazai had to admit you looked absolutely stunning in that outfit. he felt his cheeks warm up as his gaze lingered on your lips but he quickly looked away, shaking his head. "that's not possible. are you really that desperate to get a boyfriend?"

"well, summer's coming soon. i need someone to take pretty pictures of me at the beach and to buy me flowers" you smiled, fully turning to face him "you got a problem with that?"

"you bet i do. that's just vain and i don't see where Chuuya comes in. you could date any other guy."

"yea, but i like Chuuya. besides, we get along well and he actually knows how to treat a woman"

and I don't? Dazai wanted to ask. his blood boiled, jealousy clouding his judgement as he peered down at you. imagining you and Chuuya together holding hands and walking down the halls of the Port Mafia's headquarters, kissing and cooing at each other like a lovey dovey couple made his stomach churn. it felt wrong in so many ways, yet here you were, waiting for the redhead to pick you up for a date. with each minute that passed Dazai's irritation grew.

"for someone who knows how to treat a woman he sure is late for your date" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. you took a step closer to the brunette, a mocking smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"you're acting so petty right now. damn, you must be really jealous"

"i'm not jealous" Dazai's sharp glare returned to you, clenching his fists as he leaned closer to you. "i just think it's stupid. you two would never work out"

"how do you know that?" you pressed, chuckling at his unfounded claim. you weren't used to seeing Dazai like this, so worked up about something so insignificant.

"because i know you and i know Chuuya and you're a recipe for disaster. i'll be damned if i let you get heartbroken by that idiot" without realizing, Dazai leaned closer to you, his body towering over yours. he was seething, glaring down at you. his chocolate brown eyes seemed almost black in the dark, menacing, a warning of his bad mood. you knew you should stop pushing him, but you just couldn't help yourself. you wanted him to say what he truly had on his mind.

"and who are you to say who gets to break my heart and who doesn't?" your words struck a cord and Dazai's features darkened. it was a damn good point: he wasn't your friend, just a colleague. no, your self proclaimed archenemy. although you've known each other for years, he knew there was no deeper connection between you than the childish rivalry. but that was enough to make Dazai grow attached and develop a sense of ownership over you. or maybe feelings? in any case, how could he possibly allow Chuuya to take you away from him? he swore he could see red before his eyes when your phone's screen lit up and he read Chuuya's name on display.

before you could answer Dazai seized your wrist, wrapping a hand around your jaw to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. he brought his face mere inches away from your, so close you could feel his hot breath against your lips as he spoke. "who i am? i'm the one who's been by your side all this time, though thick and thin. yea, you're an annoying brat most of the time and i hate your guts but i'll be damned if i let Nakahara take you away from me. you're mine, got it? i'll take your stupid pictures at the beach and buy you flowers if that's what it takes for you to drop this stupid date"

your breath caught in your throat at his sudden outburst. did he actually confess? it didn't quite feel like it. your gaze mused on his features as you searched for answers, but you didn't find any in the sharp line of his mouth or the furrow of his brows. "so... what are you asking me to do?" you breathed out, a mere whisper that sent shivers down Dazai's spine. he let go of your wrist, wrapping a steady arm around your waist.

shit, he really didn't think this though. he's never been good with his words and now that he had you in his arms, so close he could smell your intoxicatung scent and feel the warmth of your breath on his skin his brain short-circuited. "i... i'm asking you to stay with me tonight. and from now on. i'll take you to dinner instead" he said softly, his harsh features melting away when you nodded. "thought you hated my guts" you chuckled, gathering the courage to cup his face with your hand. his skin was surprisingly soft. Dazai leaned into your touch, a shadow of a smile etching itself on his features "well... i wasn't lying. but i hate the idea of you dating Chuuya more. can't let him put his hands all over my pretty girl" sighed the brunette, his lips ghosting over yours "so? will you stay with me?"

goosebumps raised on your skin as you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against his. the kiss was heated, desperate but oh so loving. threading his fingers through your hair, Dazai gently tugged at your roots, making you mewl into his mouth. when he pulled back, his signature smirk was back in place. "i'll take that as a yes then?"

"yea, idiot" you giggled, looking down at your phone to hide your blush. "just let me text Chuuya not to come then we can go grab some food"

Dazai nodded, taking a few steps back. he was beyond pleased with himself. though he didn't necessarrily planned to confess, things went smoother than he thought they would. and he finally got a date with the girl he liked and snatched her from Chuuya. there couldn't be any better turn of events. you watched Dazai lean back against the lamppost with a content smile and you could barely suppress a laughter.

opening Chuuya's chat, you quickly typed in a text.

AAGHHSJSJ!!! your plan worked Dazai asked me out. Chuuya you're a fucking genius thanks for this. i owe you big time bestie.

[mochinek0]

Wrong Wayne

Marinette was shocked when she got to work that day, at Wayne Enterprise. Someone had set up a desk and laptop, outside of Damian's office. Some random girl was sitting there, smiling.

Marinette walked over to the office and the girl jumped up from her desk.

"Mr. Wayne, isn't in." she smiled, "Do you have an appointment? I can let him know who you are when he arrives."

"And you are?" Marinette questioned.

"I'm Damian Wayne's newest secretary." she answered.

Marinette turned around and pulled her cell phone out. She immediately began to text Tim.

Coffee Buddy: We have a sitch in front of Damian's office. Bring up CCTV.

Espresso King: Who is that?

Coffee Buddy: Claims new secretary. Send security up and look thru footage. Must have moved someone's desk cuz I can still see my desk in the office.

Espresso King: Got it

Not a minute later, Damian stepped out of the elevator.

"Mr. Wayne, I-" the new secretary began.

"Who the fuck is this?" Damian asked.

The secretary panicked, "I-I didn't get her name! I'm very sorry! I-"

Damian glared at her, "Did I ask you? Marinette, who the fuck is this?"

"She claims to be your new secretary." Marinette answered, "Damian, you didn't tell me you were firing me."

The girl paled, further.

"You-You're stuff was cleared out!" she shouted, "It should be obvious now that you're no longer needed here!"

Marinette sighed, "My stuff is in Mr. Wayne's office."

Damian opened the door, allowing the girl to peer inside. As Marinette stated, there were two desks. One by the door, which she could tell belonged to his actual secretary. The other desk by the windows, must belong to Damian.

"Why?" she questioned.

"I'm barely here." Damian stated, "Marinette does most of the work to keep me updated. I'm here only when I need to be and only then."

Mari smiled, "You have a meeting in ten minutes. I left the details on your desk last night. It's with the board of directors for the new animal clinics on 5th and Main. There's a list on top of important bullet points for you to scan over on the first page."

Damian nodded as he headed to his desk. He picked up the packet and quickly started to read it over.

The lady looked around when security got on the floor. Marinette stood by as they put her in handcuffs.

"Why are you doing this?" she screamed, "I work for Mr. Wayne."

"No, you don't." stated Damian, "I do not know who you are. I tell every secretary, I fire, when it is their last two weeks. Miss Dupain-Cheng is by far, the best person to do the job assigned to her. I have no intention of letting her go."

"You bitch! You can't separate us now! We were meant to be!" the lady shouted, "You helped me that day at the Gala.. You picked up my bracelet after that jerk threw it!

"I rarely attend those annoying things." Damian spoke, "When I do, I tend to stay away from people. The last thing I would do is go out of my way for some trinket."

"We were ten." she smiled, "It was like a dream come true."

"I never stepped foot in Gotham until I was ten." the Wayne heir replied, "My first gala was at age thirteen."

"N-No!" she screamed, stomping her foot, " We met when we were ten!"

"You are likely thinking of one of the children my father adopted; liekly Drake." Damian announced, "He was the youngest Wayne before me."

"Drake?" the girl questioned.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne is the current Co-CEO with Mr. Bruce Wayne." Mari declared, "Timothy Drake became a Wayne at age twelve. Before that, he was heir to the Drake Industries. Mr. Wayne took him in after his parents past away and his step-mother was admitted to a facility in Bludhaven."

"Sharing my life story, Coffee Buddy?" Tim questioned, announcing himself, "We found out who the mystery secretary is. Her name is Maybel Evergreen. Her brother is a night guard. We're having GCPD heading to pick him up now."

"No!" Maybel screamed, "He didn't know about this! I told him I had a lot of work to do and wasn't given my badge, yet! He really thinks I work here! He's a single dad of a two year old. Please, I'll-I'll tell you everything just don't involve him!"

"We'll see if that's true." he spoke, walking away.

He made a call to GCPD to pick up the girl and leave the brother for leverage.

As he walked back to the sobbing lady, he looked her over, closely.

'She seems familiar.'

He snapped his fingers, gaining everyone's attention.

"Gold bracelet with opals." He called out.

"Told you." Damian muttered.

The lady looked at him shocked and nodded.

"Why did you harass my younger brother?" Tim questioned.

"Actually, she mixed you two up." Marinette explained.

"Us?" Tim asked, "Me?"

Damian sighed, annoyed, "She claims to have a crush on you since you helped her that day with her trinket. She wanted to 'help' you, too."

Tim blushed, "Oh, um, that's nice, but I'm afraid I'm seeing someone. His name is Bernard."

"Oh." she spoke, looking down at the floor.

"If you still....want to help, you can always apply." Tim offered.

"Really?" Maybel asked.

"You're dedicated; that's for sure." Tim chuckled, "You do still have to go to the GCPD and they can figure out what the damage is. Next time, just apply. I cannot guarantee that you will work with me, though."

Maybel smiled, "Thank you."

"Damian, you have a meeting in three." Marinette announced.

Damian locked the office and left with Marinette at his heels, reading over the packet.

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[astonmartingf]

STAY WITH YOU ; CS55

carlos sainz x fem!reader

. . . the budding emotions continue at a high as you spend more time with carlos, the real question is who will make the first move?

previous: situations

yourusername uploaded a new story

[every time, he knows how to make an itinerary]

carlossainz55 replied to your story

i take it that you enjoyed our date and you definitely didn't regret meeting up with me?

hmmm

i wouldn't want to feed your ego any more but i guess i could say that you know how to work your way in my heart

is that you saying you want to go on another date with me?

take it whatever you will sainz, i don't have time for your teasing 🙄

HAHAHAHAHAHA you're annoyed again

i'll definitely take you out on another date

when are you free next?

i'll let you know

you never make it easy huh

doesn't matter, i'll be waiting for your message then

yourusername uploaded a new story

[team bonding activities with mr. country club]

carlossainz55 replied to your story

i'm back to being mr. country club?

i thought we'd built a stronger relationship than that

wym?

you're my only mr. country club, i think we have more relation than others already

"my"

my my, staking claim over me already?

there you go again, you're twisting my words always carlos

i'm joking...

but i can't help but imagine you saying that to me, i'm flattered what can you say

i say you're full of shit

and who's fault is that?

you keep filling my head with these thoughts

i don't say things like that...

get your head out of the gutter

you keep complimenting me, it feeds the soul

you mean your ego

i'm not about to deny that you have that effect on me, it is what it is cariño

yourusername uploaded a new story

[finally got to taste the infamous fluffy pancakes]

carlossainz55 replied to your story

i told you i make good pancakes

yes, yes

they are delicious

and isn't the shape amazing as well

...

don't act like i didn't see you hide the failed pancakes

they weren't heart-shaped that's why

you could've just given me the circle ones

i wanted to give you the heart ones

and how many heart pancakes were you able to make?

just the one in the picture 🥺

doesn't matter carlos

i'd eat whatever shape pancake you give me

i like you like that

carlossainz55 uploaded a new story

[making me a run for my money, beat my race time]

charles_leclerc replied to your story

let us meet her now

it's about time

i'll think about it

i want time for myself right now

wow, you're serious about this

ofc mate, i like her like that

landonorris replied to your story

first is karting, second is paddock time

i swear what's preventing you from asking her out this time?

maybe i just need more time

okay now you're lying to yourself

i'm afraid if she doesn't want to be with me like that

WHAT? you're joking

i haven't seen you two irl but from what i see i don't think it's a one lane highway

you clearly like each other

well, wait for me to make my move ig

are you cooking something?

cooking what? i'm not cooking

you know i meant something else

never mind, go get it carlos

yourusername uploaded a new story

[what can't he do?]

charles_leclerc replied to your story

ask you out 😁

literally shut up charles

i can't be silenced because i'm telling the truth

should i ask him out at this point?

what are you waiting for?

nothing really

then go for it

just don't forget to tell me first

carlossainz55 replied to your story

i ask myself too sweetheart

here we go again 🙄

did you get home safe?

you dropped me off right at my front door, i think that's as safe as it can go

how about you? are you home already, considering you're replying quite fast

i just arrived home

thank you for accompanying me tonight

no worries

it was definitely fun to see you sweat, and then go for a swim...

you enjoying the view?

yup

now rest and go to sleep

you really cut that conversation short...

because i know where it's going cariño

go to sleep carlos, or else

okay ma'am

i will sleep now

goodnight cariño

yourusername uploaded a new story

[if he isn't my boyfriend after this, i'm actually asking him out myself]

charles_leclerc replied to your story

OOOOOHHHH

date night

exciting

shut up charles

tell me how it goes please

you're just nosy

okay and?

it's data gathering

whatever charles, now leave us alone

enjoy your date with your future boyfriend

don't forget to let me know okay?

message me the details

carlossainz55 posted a new video

view comments...

user1 wait.... i've connected the pieces

user2 is this the girl from the summer fling?

user3 OMG WAIT! they're dating already 🥹🥹🥹

user4 anyone else IGNORNING THE FACT that it's CARLOS MF SAINZ???

charles_leclerc i thought i said update me yourusername now i see this on carlos tiktok feels illegal

carlossainz55 why am i hearing about this for the first time?

charles_leclerc what can i say, i just have the intel for that

yourusername you finish data gathering charles_leclerc?

user5 the girls are fighting

user6 rewatching the summer fling tt feels different now

user7 right??? like...

user8 wow, this was the result of the silly season last year

user9 they're so cute and then i remember the summer fling version of this and CRY EVERYITNM

yourusername i love you so much carlos and i very much so giggle and think about us all the time

carlossainz55 i'm glad i'm in your head rent free

yourusername 🙄🖕

carlossainz55 you love me amor ❤️

[princesssarisa]

My post about whether or not Lydia should be saved from Wickham in modern Pride and Prejudice retellings has gotten more likes and reblogs than I expected. It's made me think of another possibility of why Austen didn't save her from him.

Presumably, Lydia and Wickham's marriage could have been avoided in only three ways that would have left Lydia's reputation intact. The first is if they had only been planning to elope, but it was prevented, as with Georgiana. The second is if they had been found earlier and separated before Lydia lost her virginity. Or else Lydia could have listened to Darcy and left Wickham, and then Darcy could have used his influence to protect her honor: e.g. by claiming that she was kidnapped, or by arranging a decent marriage for her.

If Austen had wanted to make any of those choices to free Lydia, she could have done it without drastically changing the plot. But if she had, it might have felt a bit too "literary" and unrealistic.

I've just been re-watching some of Dr. Octavia Cox's literary analysis videos on YouTube. They reminded me that Austen always loved to skewer the tropes and clichés of other literature, especially Gothic melodrama, whether in outright parody or in subtler deconstruction.

Dr. Cox's video on the elder Eliza's fate in Sense and Sensibility particularly highlights this trend in Austen. She argues that Eliza's story is a classic, clichéd Gothic melodrama (a beautiful orphan, an abusive uncle, thwarted romance, forced marriage to a cruel man, a "fall" into a life of "sin," and ultimate illness and death, all narrated by Colonel Brandon in heightened, poetic language), and that Austen's point in including it was arguably to highlight that this wouldn't be the fate of her heroines. Marianne comes close to it with Willoughby and with her near-fatal illness, but in the end she's saved. Austen's point was arguably to say "Yes, I know all about this type of melodrama, I know all the clichés, but I'm relegating it to the backstory, because that's not what I want to write."

(I don't know if everyone would interpret the elder Eliza's storyline this way, but it's how Dr. Cox reads it.)

Maybe with Lydia's fate, and with the backstory of how Georgiana was freed from Wickham, Austen was doing something similar.

I'm not enough of an expert on Georgian literature to know if the rescuing of girls from predatory men with their virginity and honor intact was a cliché or not. But it does appear in late 18th century comic opera. For example, Mozart's Don Giovanni: the title character is the ultimate womanizer, but he has no success with any of the women he tries to prey on over the course of the opera. His seductions are stopped by the timely, chance arrivals of his enemies, his victims get away unscathed, and he pays for his crimes with his life in the end. Or The Marriage of Figaro: the Count's designs on Susanna are thwarted, and he's humiliated and forced to beg his wife's forgiveness.

If stories of womanizers being thwarted and punished, and their female victims saved with virtue intact, were as common in the literature of the day as they are in opera from that era, then maybe Austen used Wickham and Lydia to deconstruct them.

We definitely see some skewering of poetic cliche in the fact that despite Mrs. Bennet's fears/hopes, Lydia's honor is saved with a bribe instead of a duel.

Maybe like the Eliza backstory in Sense and Sensibility, the backstory of Georgiana's near-elopement can be read as a more perfect "literary" example of a girl escaping a cad's clutches. The elopement was thwarted partly by pure chance, as Darcy paid a surprise visit just before Wickham and Georgiana meant to run off, and partly because Georgiana was a “good victim,” whose conscience got the better of her and who chose her family and honor over her whirlwind romance.

But similar luck isn't on Lydia's side, nor does she make the right, “virtuous" choices. Darcy doesn't find the lovers until Lydia has already been living with Wickham, and like a typical reckless teenager, she cares nothing for either her reputation or her family compared to her infatuation with him. So Darcy is forced to bribe Wickham to marry her, Wickham goes unpunished except that he loses his hope of marrying rich, and all the characters have to live with the results of the scandal for the rest of their lives.

By having Georgiana's successful escape from Wickham be mere backstory while foregrounding Lydia's lack of escape, maybe once again Austen was saying "I could have freed Lydia this way – I know the tropes other authors might have used to free her – but I'm a more cynically realistic writer than that, so I won't."

I have no idea if this is valid or not, but it's a theory.

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

[imfinereallyy]

Spooky Spouse🕸️𓆩♡𓆪🕸️

happy spooky season :) this is for my mutuals @cranberrymoons @penny00dreadful @theheadlessphilosopher @vthx who when I asked about when we think steddie bday's was, it derailed into well...this. And it was too hard to resist.

v brief mention of nsfw

"You want to what?"

Eddie stares at Steve excitedly, practically vibrating in his spot across from Steve in the kitchen.

"We should get married on Halloween!" Eddie shouts.

Steve lets his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he looks at his very manic, albeit very cute, fiance. "Babe, I love you, and for that, I am going to hear you out—"

"Love you too." Eddie interrupts softly.

Steve's mouth curves at the edges; he's sure he has what Robin has claimed as his 'lovesick' smile on his face. "—but why would you want to get married on your birthday?"

Suddenly, Eddie's excitement switches into an embarrassed blush. Hiding behind a finger spun around a soft curl, he mumbles, "...about that..."

Steve sighs and leans back in his chair. He feels the familiar ache in the bottom of his back, scarred road rash that never quite healed right in 86'. If he sits too long in one spot, Steve finds himself fidgety and unsettled.

He wonders briefly if he can convince Eddie to give him a massage later.

Eddie's embarrassment shifts for a moment to concern, eyes wondering where Steve's back meets the base of the old wooden chair they found on 74th Street two years ago. Steve knows Eddie had liked the way the chair creaked like Steve's knee, and that was reason enough to bring it home. Now, though, with the way Eddie holds his breath to see if the familiar creak of the chair will mix with the sounds of Steve's young bones aging, Steve knows he won't have to do any convincing at all.

"I'm okay, Eds. You were saying."

Eddie's face blooms red again. "Okay, only if you promise not to be mad."

"That is never a good sign."

Eddie bites his lip, "What if I told you that my birthday isn't really on Halloween?"

Steve stares blankly, "I know I've had a few knocks on the head, Eds, but I'm pretty sure you can change your name, not your birthday. Having a wedding doesn't mean you get to move your birthday."

"Well!" Eddie jumps, this time with more anxious energy, "You see, that's what I mean; we wouldn't have to move my birthday if we got married on Halloween."

"Okay, you lost me. Am I concussed again? Did we go too hard last night? I know you said you were 'gonna fuck me so good I would forget my name,' but I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant."

Eddie takes a deep breath before getting on his knees in front of Steve, taking his hand into his own. "Stevie, I mean that I lied. My birthday isn't Halloween. It's actually in February."

"What."

"You said you wouldn't be mad!"

Steve snorts but gives Eddie's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty sure I actually said that 'wasn't a good sign'. I never agreed not to be mad."

"We both know it means the same thing to you." Eddie huffs.

Steve's lovesick smile is back again, despite knowing he should be mad. "You're telling me you've convinced everyone your birthday is on Halloween?"

"...well, everyone but Wayne." Eddie's smile turns sheepish.

"Jesus Christ Eds."

Eddie jumps up from his knees back to his feet. Steve can hear Eddie's ankle crack at the sudden change. He keeps a hold on Steve's hand. "Listen, I had good reason. I love Halloween; I should be a Halloween baby. My death was almost by bats; I mean, by that logic, it's almost full circle."

"I feel like you're D&D'ing me into logic that doesn't make sense. Eddie, are you trying to make it worse?"

Eddie throws his head back and groans, "No. I'm just—I love Halloween. It feels wrong not to have something important on that day."

"So you decided to change your birthday? Ed's that's not legal."

Eddie's excitement comes back tenfold, giving Steve whiplash. "Well, neither is our wedding! So it's perfect! Honestly, very metal of us to be fighting the law on such an amazing day." Eddie's arms flap around in excitement, making their conjoined hands move messily throughout the air.

Steve wants to be mad; he really does. But he can't help it; he just loves this idiot too much. "Fine, we can get married on Halloween."

"Really?!"

Steve stands, bringing his lips to Eddie's hand, then gently to his lips. He murmurs against his mouth, "On two conditions."

Eddie nips Steve's lip, "Anything, baby."

"One." Steve starts, sliding his tongue into Eddie's mouth, just to be a brat, before pulling back. Eddie groans but doesn't protest. He knows that this is the rare occasion it's his turn to be punished. "You have to tell everyone the truth about your birthday."

"Yep, fine. You got it." Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his neck and pulls him back. Consuming him greedily, Steve gives in to the distraction for a moment. Loving the feeling of Eddie's heat pressed against his own.

Steve pulls back reluctantly, a trail of spit connecting the two of them. Eddie whines and paws at Steve's hips, trying to draw him back. "Two, you have to tell me when your actual birthday is."

The heat clears from Eddie's eyes and the sheepish look returns. "Uh..."

Steve starts to remove himself from Eddie, but Eddie scrambles to bring him back against his chest. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you."

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, patiently waiting for him to spill.

"It's February 14th."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ."

**

this spiraled form all of us being convinced eddie would lie and say his bday is on Halloween. to my mutals, sorry I didn't tag you all it got to long, but this was for you guys ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[sysmedsaresexist]

Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

[the-badger-mole]

She knows

She knows

She knows

Zuko had thought his feelings for Katara were his secret. He'd never spoken to anyone about them, and he hadn't been treating her any differently since he'd figured himself out. His feelings were his burden alone, and he intended to keep it that way. Still, she knows ricocheted through his mind. His heart seemed to beat in time to words in his brain as he tried to process everything. The clamoring of the soldiers rushing up the stone stairs; the sound of the stolen air ship coming up behind him; the feel of Katara's lips on his.

Her fingers were clenched tight around the collar of his shirt. Zuko had just come to his senses enough to reach for her waist, intent on pulling her closer, when suddenly Katara shoved him backwards off of the ledge of the broken balcony. An airbender would've caught themselves and vaulted back onto the stone legdge. Zuko was no airbender, though. Their airbender was...someplace else. Zuko wasn't entirely sure of where. So when Zuko landed on the deck of the airship with a bone rattling thump, shock kept him there for the time it took him to refill his lungs. By the time he scrambled to his feet, the ship was already pulling away. Zuko had just enough time to see Katara turn from him to face his father's soldiers. She was outnumbered by at least a dozen, but she stood tall and firm, and even from behind, Zuko could see the determination in her stance. She would fight and die to make sure that he got away safely.

"No!" Zuko shouted. He threw himself at the railing, intent on getting back to her by any means necessary. He would leap from the deck and figure out the rest on his way back. Two sets of strong hands kept him from enacting his plan.

"Let me go!" he demanded pulling against the hold on him. "I'm not leaving her!"

"Zuko!" Sokka shouted. He and Suki pulled hard throwing him against the wall of the ship. "Stop!"

"Turn back!" Zuko half demanded, half pleaded. "We have to go back for her!" He was met with Sokka and Suki's twin grimaces.

"We can't," Suki said, grimly. "We have to get you to safety."

"I don't care about my safety!" Zuko insisted. "I can't leave her behind! Sokka, she's your sister! How can you just-oof!" Sokka's punch didn't hurt so much as it caught Zuko off guard.

"Don't you dare!" Sokka growled. He stood over Zuko, rage radiating from him almost tangibly. "Don't you dare imply I'm not just as worried about Katara as you are. If it wasn't for the fact that we need you to survive the war, I would've thrown you back to them to save her in a heartbeat. But the next best thing I can do is make sure my sister's sacrifice isn't in vain. That mean's getting you to safety and making sure you don't do anything stupid like trying to take on a whole troop of firebending soldiers.

A thousand arguments flew through Zuko's mind. They were superimposed over the image of Katara facing those same solders in his mind. Everything in him was demanding they turn around that instant and rescue Katara. His gambit for the throne was meaningless in comparison to Katara's safety. So what if she had willingly sacrificed herself? So what if he were summarily executed by his father, or even his sister? His own life meant nothing if Katara weren't in it.

Sokka was right, though. Zuko was loathe to admit it, but he was right. Katara knew what she was doing, even if Zuko was certain she didn't understand the full consequence. She'd saved his life. Again. Impotent and helpless as he felt watching her do it, she'd done it willingly. She'd done it strategically. His heart railed against it, but his mind knew why she'd done it. He had the best claim to the throne, after all. They'd talked about it to exhaustion. He'd told Katara all his worries, and she'd calmed them with her certainty that he was the Fire Lord his nation deserved. He'd never gotten the chance to tell her that he though she was the Fire Lady his nation needed, though they didn't deserve her by a long shot. He'd never told her that though he didn't deserve her, he needed her. Like he needed water.

She knew, though. She knew his weakness, and she'd used it. Zuko could still feel the pressure of her lips on his. Could still feel the way her hand tightened on his collar as she prepared to shove him away even while she was pulling him closer. She knew what she could do to him even in the midst of battle.

"They probably won't kill her," Suki said quietly. Both Sokka and Zuko looked up sharply.

"What?" Sokka gasped.

"They probably won't kill her," Suki repeated. "She's too valuable a prisoner. The daughter of the Southern Water Tribe chief? The... the friend of Prince Zuko? She's useful. If she surrenders, she will have a fighting chance." Suki's mouth was pressed into a thin, grim line. She was upset, too, Zuko realized. Maybe almost as upset as Sokka and Zuko were. Only almost, though. Zuko couldn't imagine his future without Katara in it, and Sokka had always been his sister's protector. As Zuko met Sokka's eye across the deck, he knew the Water Tribe warrior had made the same decision he had. If Katara was alive, neither would rest until she was safe again. The details of their rescue mission would have to wait until they could discuss them in private, but they would be going after her.

[anxious-witch]

Okay, okay, fine I am doing analysis of Damon Baker's photoshoots 😂

That said, since a lot of people already analyzed Kris' and since Bojan's has less picture, I am gonna start with his. Also obviously, this is totally subjective, I am not claiming this is one true or absolutely correct analysis, just my thoughts on it.

Under the cut bc this will deff get long

So I cropped the pictures so I can analyze them separately

To start off with these two, because I think they were put like this bery purposefully. On the left, we have Bojan with his arms crossed, his expression is, the reminiscent of "The Fallen Angel" by Alexandre Cabanel (I apologize, someone else already did a comparison but I can't find it rn, feel free to tell me in the replies and I'll tag you). Bojan looks almost angry, his crossed over arms showing he is closed off and the spikes on his biceps emphasizes that. It literally feels like a warning sign. His eyes are downcast, as if he is looking down on something or someone. He is something to look at, but not touch, if you don't want to get hurt.

Then we have a smaller pictures right next to his one, that's almost exact opposite. It feels like we caught him in a momen where he was not meant to be seen. His face look tortured, like he just cried or is about to cry. His hair is messy in a way that doesn't feel like it was on purpose, but rather as if he messed it up during his inner turmoil. There is also a cigarette, which implies he is taking it to calm himself. His eyes are pointed upwards, as if he is seeking guidance from someone above him.

I feel like, for me, from storytelling perspective, these two pictures put together like this hint at Bojan's struggle with anxiety.

He is trying to appear tough and untouchable, the way he feels he has to be, but he is struggling internally. This is overall theme of the shoot, I think.

Next we have this shot of his outfit. My first thought when I saw this was "this looks oddly rugged for Bojan". And I do stand by it. The shirt is half undone, half tucked into his pants, but half outside in the back. Like he got dressed in a hurry. Like he doesn't care or perhaps doesn't have the energy to care about how he is appearing. And then, tbe belt buckle with a broken heart. I think, that's the core element in this particular picture. Especially in comparison to Kris' heart necklace. Despite the rugged clothes, there is something fragile underneath all that. His heart.

Then we have this one. And it's such a stark contrast than the previous three, I was genuinely shook. In this one, Bojan is openly vulnerable towards the camera, towards the viewer. Not looking up or down, but directly to the camera. Also the detail that @theraggedygirl11 pointed out about him wearing Damon's "safe sweater" broke me. It's almost as if he is saying, "look, this is how I am when I am allowed to be safe. This is how I am when I am not suffering".

What a contrast to the above outfit! The open shirt only poised as fake vulnerability, when a truly vulnerable Bojan isn't showing off his skin at all here, but rather his face. His emotions, all on display.

Another thing that strikes me as amazing in this particular picture (can you tell this one is my favorite?) is that his pose looks comfortable and his hair falls gently to the side, freely showing off his gray hairs, that are especially visible in black and white.

Then at last, we come to these three, all in color. Unlike Kris, who had water, Bojan has fire as his "element" in this photoshoot. Fire is passion, light, warmth. It entices you, and it's much more noticable at first. But it can also burn you. There is also a reason why we say we "burn out" as well. Bojan holding a literally lit match in his mouth is such an amazing imagery.

We all know that magic trick of a man extinguishing a match in his mouth, for the entertainment of all. Putting himself in a very vulnerable position. Lips, mouth and tongue are so soft, especially compared to fire that burns. And is that not in a way, exactly what Bojan does? He pours out his heart while he sings, leaving it to the crowd to decide if they are entertained with his preformance. And surez ither do it too, but I think we can agree he is the most on display.

The way he is looking at the camera first, as if waiting for a reaction, and then as the fire gets closer, his eyes close too, as if he is too scared to look.

Just....augh, I love the way Damon Baker showcased his personality through these and how he expressed so much through just a few pictures. Also, please feel free to add your own thoughts, I love hear other ppl's opinions on things like these

[spidernuggets]

What about reader was a street kid that somehow ended up under hanks wing, she thinks of hank as a big brother, she ends up going to titans tower with hank and dawn, Jason thinks shes so cool and really likes her but idiot titans jason decides the best way to go about his feelings is to be a bit of a douchebag and to show off, Hank picks up what he's doing and literally lifts him off the ground with one hand and is like leave my sister alone, and then Jason's like oh shit your sister!? Basically just something silly and fun and also I bloody love hank and dawn so I had to include them ♡

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

"Leave my sister alone, Todd."

Hank was walking through an alley, a shortcut on the way to a fast food place to meet up with Dawn, when he heard something hit the dumpsters. His fists clench, ready to fight whatever may cause harm.

What he didn't expect was a teenage girl with a pipe in her hands.

Without thinking, Hank took a couple steps closer. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt- OW, what the fuck!" He yelled, grabbing his head that you hit harshly with the pipe.

"Oh, my god, I'm sorry!" You exclaimed, not giving him the chance to finish his sentence, stating that he meant no danger to you. "I thought you were gonna stab me or something!" You jog up to him, supporting him by the shoulders, checking for any blood.

"No, no, my fault. Some big, scary, man stranger walking through an alley in the middle of the night isn't the most safest thing to walk across." He groans. He inseocts you for a few seconds, noticing the dirt and filth all over your clothes, and scratch marks around your face.

"Hey, kid, you live around here? Why are you even out so late?" Hank asks, regaining his posture.

"It's Y/n, firstly, not kid. And restaurants throw out some good food at the end of the day. I was just dumpster diving," you say casually, as if it was the norm. "And, yes and no? I live around here, but.. uhh, no permanent house."

Hank mentally groans. The last thing he wanted was to become like Dick, and taking in "strays" was one of Dick's main attributes. But you didn't have shelter, and you were eating food out of the dumpster.

"Hey, listen, I know I'm still big, scary man stranger, but I'm meeting up with my girlfriend at BatBurgers. How about we get you something to eat that doesn't have the possibility of getting you any diseases?" He offers.

You think for a moment. You had nothing to lose. Sure, this man might actually kidnap you, OR you might get a fresh, hot meal for the first time in a long while.

"Lead the way, mister," you say.

"You can call me Hank, kid," he smiles, walking the rest of the way to the diner.

"Oh, and who's this?" Dawn asks, crouching slightly to meet you at eye level.

"This is Y/n. She'll be joining us," Hank states as he opens the door. "Go on in," he says to you, nodding his head in.

The way you bounced in excitement had Hank smiling. "New friend?" Dawn asks, mirroring his grin.

"You can say so."

Hank and Dawn's talking was half tuned out, stuffing your face with a burger and fries. The couple had no judgement, acknowledging that it could've been a minute since you've eaten properly.

"I'll go to the bathroom," Dawn whispers to Hank as she shuffles out of the booth.

"She's the girlfriend?" You whisper, leaning forward to Hank, who was sat in front of you.

"Yeah, she is. She's Dawn." Hank replies

You nod, taking another bite of the burger. "She's pretty," you claim, voice muffled through the meat and cheese stuffed in your mouth.

"Alright, listen, real talk." Hank begins, gaining your attention. "You obviously weren't listening. So... Me and Dawn were thinking... how about you come stay with us. You clearly need a place to stay, a shower, food. We got what you need."

"Are you guys those Hawk and Dove people?" You ignore his new offer as his eyes widen.

"Wha-" He clears his throat. "No, no, no. We're not." He stammers, looking around the empty diner, seeing if anyone had heard you.

"We're not what?" Dawn asks, returning from the toilet.

"Dawn, tell her we are NOT Hawk and Dove," Hank says through gritted teeth.

Dawn turns to you. "Where'd you get that idea?" She says out of impressed curiosity.

You shrugged, sipping on your cola. "Hank and Dawn. Hawk and Dove. Sounds real similar. Plus he's not great at hiding the fact," you state nonchalantly while pointing at Hank.

"Plus, you guys are offering me a home. Better knowing you guys are superheroes rather than junkies trying to sell me through the black market, right?"

Hank and Dawn share a known look. "Alright, kid. We're only admitting this so you have a place to stay without any second thoughts in regard to your safety." Hank says, pointing back at you.

You shrug once more. "Then I guess I'm staying with you two. A shelter and supes to protect me? Double win," you crack a smile.

So, Hank and Dawn welcomed you into their home and into their lives. Though it was mostly Hank taking the wheel in this newfound relationship. Exceot for clothes shopping. That was Dawn's expertise.

But since you already knew both their secret identities, Hank wanted to train you in combat and stealth, wanting you to be able to protect yourself when you're home alone while the couple was out.

The longer you stayed with Hank, though, the more you saw him as family. As an older brother. And he can't lie, even though he hasn't known you for long, he likes to think of you as a little sister.

"Hey, kid, listen," Hank chimes, walking into the living room and taking a seat next to you on the couch while Dawn is perched on the arm rest beside him. It's almost been a year since you've stayed with Hank and Dawn, and you don't think life could get any better. "Me and Dawn have been thinking-"

"Uh oh, that's never a good sign," you joke with a snarky smirk.

"Hush, anyways. You've been getting so good at your training. We think that you would be a great contribution to... the Titans?" Hank says unsurely, not knowing how you'd react. "I called up Dick, telling him that we got a badass girl under our wing. Asked him to give you a shot. What do you think?"

After a few seconds of disbelief and processing, you spring up from the couch. "HOLY SHIT!" You exclaim. "A slot in the Titans, are you serious?!" A wide grin stretches along your face, hurting your cheeks.

"You can even get your own room there so you're never alone when me and Hank are out," Dawn smiles.

You pause. "But I like staying with the two of you."

Your little confession makes the couple's heart melt.

"Sis, we're still gonna be there with you around the tower. It's just gonna be a different change of scenery," Hank assures.

You take a breath. "So, when do we go?"

Upon arrival, you're close behind Hank, lightly grabbing onto his shirt while he leads the way. "What if they think I'm lame?" You ask nervously.

Hank laughs and looks down behind him. "They won't. Everyone's nice. Well.. except for that asshole, Jason."

"Hank," Dawn calls out, giving him a look that tells him to drop the attitude.

Before you can ask more about this apparent asshole, the elevator doors open, and you hide directly behind Hank's large frame. Everyone was already waiting for your arrival.

"Guy, this is Y/n- Y/n, would you get-" Hank grabs your shoulder, pushing you in front of him.

"Hi.." You queitly say while awkwardly waving towards the group.

"Hey, I'm Jason," a boy with loose and wild curls with a grin comes walking out to you, holding his hand out.

You completely forget about Hank's previous statement, already enchanted by the boy while shaking his hand.

"Nope." Hank says, lightly pushing Jason's shoulder, backing him away from you.

"Aw, come on, Hank, you know I'm not so bad." Jason smiles, feigning innocence.

Hank pushes you, determined for you to meet the rest of the group who isn't Jason.

Dick and Hank show you to your new room. While Dick returns to the others, Hank helps you unpack your little belongings.

Suddenly, you couldn't help but go up to Hank and give him a tight hug, taking him by surprise.

"Wow, okay, what's this, kid?" Hank says, an arm around your shoulders and hand protectively placed on your head.

"Just a thanks. For everything. You and Dawn did a lot for me. You're a great brother," you admit. Hank smiles, rubbing your back, telling you it's not a big deal.

Dick leads you to the training room, where Gar, Rachel,and Jason were already at. The three of them were sparring blindfolded, which shook you a lot, knowing that you were probably nowhere near that level of training yet. Sure, Hank has taught you the importance of losing senses while fighting and taught you how to fight without those senses, but still. When you see others doing it, you begin to rethink your training.

But Jason caught your eye once more. He seemed so flawless at this. Like he was born,with that kind of talent and skill.

"Alright, guys, wrap it up," Dick says.

"Aw, man, I was just about to beat these two losers!" Jason says, immediately shutting up after he sees you once he takes his blindfold off.

Gar lightly hits Jason with his wooden sword playfully while Jason just smiles.

"Gar," Dick calls out. "Spar with Y/n for a bit. We need to see what we're working with."

"Why can't I train with her?" Jason asks, a little annoyed as he wanted to get to know you better.

"Because Dick knows you'll cry about it if she beats you," Rachel mutters, Jason flipping her off.

"Gar knows when to hold back, Jason. Sit down," Hanks says, crossing his arms. "Let them do it blindfolded," he suggests as you and Dick look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

You chuckle awkwardly. "Aha.. no, no. No, no. That's not necessary. I will suck ass if I-"

"Blindfolded," Hank interrupts. He knows that you're underestimating yourself and that you're more capable than you realise.

"Blindfolded it is," Dick mutters, handing you a blindfold.

You take a breath, you and Gar getting into a stance, preparing yourselves. There were no weapons for this. Which is fine by you. You were always good at talking with your fists.

"Go!" Dick yells.

Gar charged forward, ready to attack. But you stayed where you were.

Listen, then go. You thought to yourself. With every step, every breath, every breeze that moved with his body, you can hear Gar's movement. Just as he was about to go in for a punch, you block him. You grab his arm, twisted it, then threw him over your shoulder.

Gar groaned on the floor, removing his blindfold. You removed yours slowly, staring at the green hair boy below you.

You turn to the others who were surprised at the sudden turn, except Hank, who had a cocky grin on his face. "Did... I do it right?" You quietly ask.

A small smile slowly formed across Dick's face. "Welcome to the Titans."

Dick had to pull Hank out of the training room, telling him that you're in good hands with the other three. But Hank didn't trust Jason. So Dick promised they'll just be in the other room. If things go south, he'll be quick to come to your safety.

"So, you wanna train with me?" Jason immediately asks you once Hank leaves the room. Gar and Rachel give each other a look, knowing that Jason is already down bad for you.

You take a step back, feeling a tad bit intimidated, especially after seeing how skilled he was. "I.. I don't know. I think you're too advanced for me."

Saying that this made Jason's ego sky rocket is an understatement.

"Ah, come on, babe. I'll go easy, trust me. I'll even teach ya how to improve," he offers, his hands resting on his hips.

Your face slightly flushed at the sudden nickname. You cleared your throat. "Yeah, okay."

Jason stretches his arms out, pointing to his chest. "Alright, go on, take a jab at me."

Going in for the punch, Jason steps to the side, avoiding the strike, grabbing your arm, pinning you to the ground, and holding your arm behind your back.

"Alright, alright. So you actually need to- hey, what the fuck! Put me down!" Just as Jason explains where you went wrong, his feet were dangling a few centimetres off the ground.

"Leave my sister alone, Todd," Hank growls, holding Jason in the air by his collar.

"Hank!" You yell, sitting up.

"Shit, that's your sister?" Jason asks, looking back and forth from you and Hank while Rachel takes her phone out to take a pic of the moment. "She single?" He boldly asks while your face heats up as he sends you a wink.

Hank was about to waste no time punching Jason in the face, when Dick walks in, telling him to put Jason down. It takes Hank a few moments and a couple of glares to comply.

"Stay away from her," he threatens one last time before taling you by the arm, pulling you out of the room.

But that was a before you sent Jason a smile and a wave goodbye, and he returned the smile and a nod of his head.

The two of you know that Jason is definitely not going to leave you alone during your stay.

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

soz, anon, there's less jason interaction than i anticipated 💔💔 still, hope you enjoy it 🥳🥳

[alrightieaphroditie]

harder | j.m  series masterlist!

pairing *:·ﾟjoel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ5.7k warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! v angsty at first, mentions of death and overall sad topics... then we go into a lil bit of kissing, some dirty talk if you squint, teasing, pet names (baby, sugar), titty play, some praise, probably poorly written smut lmao an *:·ﾟit's been a hot second since i tried writing smut and damn am i insecure about it lmaoo this took longer than anticpated too because i sadly lost half of it almost immediately after writing it... so yeah. feedback is hella appreciated on this, and it isn't quite proofread so if you catch something please let me know!! i enjoyed writing this (like a lot) so i really hope you all enjoy reading this! <3 

synopsis *:·ﾟever since the dinner at your place, joel and ellie have fit themselves into your life seamlessly. when joel gets back from a hunting trip, he comes over and shows you some new tricks. (18+!)

over the course of a couple months, joel and ellie had fit themselves into your life like puzzle pieces. 

the pair would come over to your house once a week every week after that first dinner together, and sometimes you would cook, sometimes you'd grab some food to go from the tipsy bison. they would help you set the table, ellie nagging joel most nights about how slow he was moving to put the silverware around the table. you would all eat, then ellie would sneak into the living room while you and joel cleaned together. and then the three of you would sit around your coffee table, playing board games or cards. or you'd go to see the movie playing in town, or you'd go for a walk around the neighborhood. 

these nights with them quickly became your favorite moments of the week. you had formed a close bond with ellie, and the more time you spent with joel, the harder you fell for him. most nights ellie would fall asleep in the guest room you had set up for her, and you and joel would spend hours talking together out on the porch like you did that first night. 

sometimes you'd talk about nothing major. he'd comment on how the greenhouses were doing, which was where you helped the community out the most, and it would get you talking about all the vegetables and flowers you were trying to grow. or you'd ask how his patrol shift went, and he'd complain to you about his partner. it was small talk, but with someone like joel, it meant a lot to you that he was willing to simply sit on your wooden bench beside you and listen. 

sometimes, after a long week, you'd make joel a glass of whiskey (which you had started to keep around simply for the man. how he didn't know how much you crushed on him was beyond you. maybe it was his age.) and you'd talk about the harder things. your time spent in the bunker your family built. how your best friend was murdered by a group of hunters after they had kept you captive for weeks. how they used you. how you managed to kill them all while they slept because they got lazy and assumed you were too weak. 

joel had had a hard time listening to it, but he insisted that he wanted to hear about your past. the guilt he felt was indescribable. he wasn't the one to keep you captive, to use you, but with his past as a hunter he couldn't help but feel like he played a role in your pain. he had spent a lot of time repressing his emotions regarding that aspect of his life, but you encouraged him to talk about it. to feel his emotions. you told him over and over again that you didn't blame him, weren't scared of him. didn't judge him. 

it was hard for him to hear, to believe, but your consistency helped him more than he would ever admit. he was more welcome in jackson now than he was when he first arrived, mostly thanks to you, but he still felt like an outsider. like people were just waiting for a pin to drop and for him to reduce back into the monster of a man they claimed him to be. he was tired of trying to prove to everyone that he was simply just a man who survived the only way he knew how to. but with you? he didn't feel the need to apologize for who he was. he could settle with you, and that was something he hadn't felt in a long time. 

on the simpler nights, joel would talk about his life before the outbreak, how he and tommy worked in contracting and how he missed doing things with his hands. he'd talk about always being busy, always doing something, when the world turned. about how he was skeptical of the community when he and ellie first stumbled upon it because for once, for the first time since the outbreak, he wasn't constantly having to look over his shoulder for something bad. 

on the harder nights, the ones where joel felt like he needed more than one glass of liquor, he confided in you about sarah. about tess. about how his relationship with tommy had changed and he didn't know what he needed to do to fix it anymore. about his insecurities with ellie, how he didn't trust his mind anymore to make the right decisions when it came to her because he was too attached. 

he told you all of the things he swore he would never talk about again, and you simply sat there, listening, sharing his burden. the way your hand would rest gently on his arm while he talked, squeezing it every once in a while, to encourage him to go on, it provided him with a strength he didn't know he needed. 

joel didn't know this, but that night when he first told you about sarah and the events that happened on his birthday, after he and ellie had left, you spent the rest of your night crying in your bed. crying for joel, for the loss he had experienced. for how the world had turned and how he had to manage the loss of his own world on top of it. for how he was never properly able to grieve her death. 

you were beginning to see a side of joel you don't think anyone has seen in a long time. you were also starting to understand why joel miller was the man he is today. after learning about his past, his experiences, and his trauma, you recognized and could empathize why he felt the need to guard his heart the way he has been. it was a testament to his strength, how he could keep going while carrying all of that inside of him, and you admired the hell out him. 

and somehow, you had worked your way into his heart, through his guards. and joel may not have known it yet, but you were there to stay, and you would be for as long as he let you. 

you were constantly thinking about the man, your days spent replaying your conversations in your mind and getting giddy just remembering them. you honestly were a bit concerned, considering you've never felt this way about anyone before. you wanted to ask maria about it, but then she'd pester you into telling her who you were crushing over, and you didn't think it would go over too well considering joel was twice your age and, well, him. 

so, you kept it to yourself, letting your mind fantasize about what it would be like to actually be with joel, physically, romantically, all of it. 

you hadn't seen joel in a couple of days, as he was one of the men selected to go hunt. he wouldn't be back for a few more days, either, and you hated to admit it but you missed him. and you wondered if he missed you too. if he ever thought about you while he was away. he was so hard to read, even now, and sometimes you thought about just grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him while you unloaded all of your feelings onto him. 

but if there was one thing you knew about joel miller, it was that he would absolutely hate that. so... you kept it to yourself. 

you had just gotten home after spending all day in the greenhouse with ellie. maria had you showing her the vegetation that the community was working on, showing her the ins and outs of gardening and how to properly pick the fruit that was growing. she loved it, of course, and on her breaks, she spent most of the time sketching the different fruits and flowers in the little sketchbook joel had found for her. 

it was a good day, but a busy one, and you were exhausted. the sun was already starting to set, and you wanted to cuddle up on your couch with one of the romance novels your friend had brought you with a cup of tea. you were still dressed in your work outfit - a pair of olive-green linen pants and simple black cotton t-shirt - and you were already planning on stepping into your pajamas early when a knock on your door startled you. 

a glance through the little peephole on your door had your heart racing. joel was standing on your porch, one of his arms behind his back as he glanced around. you could see the muscles in his arm bulge against the faded red t-shirt he was wearing, and that sight alone could've fueled your fantasies for a month straight. 

a grin was plastered on your face as you unlocked the front door, and his dark eyes found yours easily through the screen door. "joel miller, as i live and breathe. what are you doin' here?" you adopted an exaggerated southern accent, something you and ellie started doing to poke fun of joel for his texan roots. he kept telling you guys it wasn't funny, but you could always see a small smile on his lips every time you did it.

even now as he rolled his eyes at you, you could see the edges of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, and fuck but you loved it. "you think you're so damn funny with that, don't you?" he asked, his gaze trailing down your body so quickly you almost missed it. but you didn't, and now your face was burning bright red. 

"ellie would agree with me and you know it, mister." you argued, pushing the screen door open for joel to come in. he didn't move, though, keeping his arm behind his back with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. you crossed your arms over your chest. "but for real, i thought you were gonna be out a few more days with everyone else?" it was rare that the hunting party would come back early, but not uncommon either. 

"didn't have much luck in the area we were in, so we figured we'd come back and regroup before leaving again. i found somethin' though," he trailed off, a full smile encompassing his mouth now. something you had learned about joel in your months of studying him was that gift giving was a huge thing for him. he mainly brought stuff back for ellie, but you've noticed lately that he had been finding little things here and there for you too. you wondered what that meant.

you could just barely make out the edges of something behind his legs, but you couldn't quit tell what it was. your arms slipped from your chest, your hands moving out and making a grabby motion. "you want me to close my eyes?" you teased, making a point of squinting your eyes so that you could see just a sliver of joel between them. he shook his head at you, grumbling something about how weird you were becoming, and he moved his arm from back behind his body. 

"joel!" you gasped; mouth dropped in awe as he presented a perfectly intact guitar. "this is amazing! you do know what this means now, right?" his eyebrow rose as he took in the sight of you gently holding the instrument. he had been pretty proud of the find, taking care to clean off the vines and dirt that had dusted itself around the guitar. considering you had been begging him for lessons for weeks since ellie mentioned he could play the guitar; he knew what was coming. 

he wanted to tease you about it, regardless. 

"if i hear the words 'guitar lessons' come out of your mouth, 'm leavin'." he threatened, crossing his arms across his chest. his worn t-shirt strained against his muscles and tightened around his chest, and it took everything in you not to stare. his tone was mean, as mean as he could get with you, but then he did something you weren't expecting - he winked at you. 

you squealed internally. 

“that’s not fair and you know it, miller. we literally have a guitar now! what else are we gonna do with it?” you complained playfully, your voice light. you started backing up into the house, joel’s arm reaching out to catch the screen door before it slammed shut in his face. he followed you in, making sure to close both doors and kicking his work boots off next to the small rug you had inside. 

you were still marveling over the instrument, turning it over in your hands while taking it in. from what you remembered, this was a pretty standard guitar. the wood was a warm brown, and it had all six silvery strings connected still. you sat down on the carpet in front of your couch, balancing the guitar on your thighs. you were aware of joel as he entered the living room behind you, settling into one of the chairs you had on the other side of the room.

he was quiet as he watched you get comfortable with the guitar, his brown eyes sweeping over your figure. your head was bent to the side, your hair falling in slight waves across your face as you studied where to put your fingers on the neck. he could see you biting your bottom lip as you concentrated, and he had to stealthy adjust himself in the chair as he watched. god, he thought. you looked so beautiful. 

his thoughts were interrupted by the loudest, most out of tune noise coming from you and the guitar. he had to fight off the urge to cover his ears, but then he wouldn’t have heard the sound of your laughter that followed quickly after, and that was something he never wanted to miss. his eyes were already on yours when you lifted your head to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face. “clearly i don’t know what i’m doing. your turn?” 

he hadn’t played the guitar in years, but he would be lying if he said his fingers weren’t itching to at least hold it again. he rubbed his palms against his jean clad thighs before standing up and taking the guitar from your outstretched hands. for some reason, he was nervous to play in front of you. he wanted it to be good, to be perfect, but with years of not practicing and with no idea how maintained this guitar was, he really couldn’t do much besides try. 

joel tested the guitar in his grip, absentmindedly strumming his fingers quietly while he fiddled with the pegs to tune it. and you sat there on your carpet, stars in your eyes as you watched his shoulders relax ever so slightly. you saw his foot tapping against the floor as he strummed, and it wasn’t a song you recognized but it immediately became your new favorite. 

he played for a lot longer than you anticipated, his eyes closing softly as his fingers worked the neck of the guitar. you wished in this moment that you had a camera, some way to capture the moment. you’ve never seen joel so relaxed, so in his element. his foot, tapping away against your floor. his hands, holding the guitar with a level of gentleness you weren’t expecting. his head, slowly bobbing along to the chords he played. the sunset was filtering through your window, casting him in an orangish glow. 

and your heart ached, thinking about the man before you who once dreamed of making a career out this. he was talented enough, that was for damn sure. you could easily imagine him somewhere up on a stage, holding the same guitar and preforming the same exact way. you wondered if he’d ever sing in front of you, but you didn’t want to push your luck. this alone was enough for you. 

the music eventually drifted away softly, joel’s fingers coming to rest as he strummed it one last time. he cleared out his throat when he finished, looking a little shy, but you weren’t having it. “joel, that was amazing.” you gushed, fighting the urge to clap for him. 

“s’nothin’ special,” he muttered, but you swore the tips of his cheeks turned a shade of light pink from the compliment. 

“that’s bullshit and you know it,” your tone was argumentative back, not wanting him to diminish his talents. you sat forward on your knees, clasping your hands together. “will you please teach me something, joel? anything? one singular basic chord?” you begged, giving him your biggest eyes and playful pout. 

“you’re almost worse than ellie is when she wants something.” he teased, rolling his head back on his neck before standing up to come sit behind you on the couch. his legs spread out, and from the corner of your eye you could see his thighs strain against his jeans. oh lord. 

“i’m taking that as a compliment. that girl is so headstrong and i love it,” you shuffled back so that your back was pressed against the couch, crossing your legs over the other again so that you could rest the guitar against your lap. you gave an experimental strum, and since joel worked on tuning it, the noise that came out was much more pleasant than your attempt earlier. 

“course you would,” the man behind you muttered, and you shot him a grin over your shoulder before adjusting your hands on the instrument. he leaned forward slightly, keeping an eye on your hands and not the way your shirt dipped down the front of your chest slightly. your skin was more exposed, and he could see a constellation of freckles littering your skin. fuck, but he wanted to kiss every single one of them. 

with a sigh, joel began telling you where to place your fingers along the neck for specific chords. he was patient, watching carefully as you figured them out with his help. every time you correctly struck the right chord, it made him grin. he liked seeing you so excited over this mundane activity. the way you were always so enthusiastic, so bright, it just drew him in like a moth to the light. he couldn’t help it. 

you had shifted away from the couch slightly, your back hunched over the instrument as you did you best to play it. you had picked up the simple chords pretty easily, but you were struggling with getting your finger placement correct on the last one joel gave you. joel kept telling you how easy this one was, too, which had started to frustrate you. the man’s hands were easily twice the size of your own, of course he would think it was easy. and you said as much to joel, too, who only chuckled in response. 

“know you can do it, sugar.” he encouraged quietly, scooting over on the couch so that his legs almost bracketed your body. he leaned forward, pulling your upper body back a bit from its slouch as he moved to help you. “keep your arm like this, and then stretch this finger as much as you can. you can move your wrist a little, too.” his rough hands were soon on top of your own, his applying a little more pressure so that he could guide your finger to the correct position. 

finally, you were able to hit the chord right, and you cheered for yourself as you strummed it a couple more times. joel’s hand had slide up your arm gently, resting on the top of your left shoulder while you played. he was still crouched over slightly, but when you turned your head to look at him, you were shocked with how close his face was to yours. 

now that you were facing him though, you could revel in the way his breath was hitting the spot on your neck just right, how it sent goosebumps down your arms and a shiver to your spine. if you tilted your head slightly, you’d bump his nose with your own. your eyes jumped to his, your hand gripping the neck of the guitar so tightly you worried that you were going to snap it. “joel,” you whispered, soft breaths parting from your lips as it opened slightly. 

his dark eyes met yours, and that was it.

you weren’t too sure who moved first. if it was you, dropping the guitar from your lap while you twisted up onto your knees in front of him. if it was him, the hand on your shoulder moving to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing it slightly as he guided you up to his mouth. joel’s thumb caressed your skin softly, and you felt yourself go weak in the knees.  

his mouth slanted across yours, and the feeling of his stubble scratching against your face made you whimper into his mouth softly. his hand tightened around your neck, using the leverage to pull you up from your knees, while his other hand guided you by your hip to straddle one of his legs on the couch. your hands went from his shoulders to his hair to cupping the sides of his face. you could feel him grinning against your lips.

you’ve been kissed before but kissing joel was an entirely new experience. you have never done something that felt so right, so good. you never wanted this to stop. 

your legs adjusted your weight on his thigh, and you felt joel’s grip on your waist tighten as he pressed you down harder. you could feel the rough denim through your thin linen pants, and when joel moved his hand forward, your hip followed in his grip as he rocked you against his thigh. this was a new experience, however. the feeling of his solid thigh pressed against your core, and you suddenly felt much, much hotter. 

“joel,” you whispered again, though it came out in more of a whimper against his lips. his hand rocked you against him again, and yours slid to hold his shoulders and you tested the movement yourself, dragging your hips up his thigh and then back down. another whimper emitted from your lips, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed about the noise, but you were too caught up in the feeling. 

“i know, baby.” his voice was rough against your mouth, and he lowered his lips against yours again, this time angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. joel tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you gasp softly at the hint of pain before his tongue covered the spot. he took the opportunity of your open mouth to move his tongue in against yours, and you basically crumpled in his lap at how demanding he was as he kissed you. 

your hips had started to steadily move against his thigh on your own, but his big, rough hand was still resting on your hip, his fingers digging little half-moon bruises into your skin as he helped you press a little harder. joel gave your throat one last little squeeze before he moved to the hem of your t-shirt, his fingers slipping underneath ever so slightly. you could feel the calluses on his hands as he trailed them across your stomach lightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he brushed his thumb over the material of your bra, right where your nipple would be. 

you were so overwhelmed by everything joel - his taste, his touch, his smell. you didn’t want to, but you felt yourself struggling to catch a breath, so you pulled away from his mouth slightly, brushing his nose with yours gently. he could feel the little pants coming from your mouth as you exhaled, could hear the smallest of whimpers riding along those exhales as well. everything about you in this moment was working for him, so well that he was trying to think of something ridiculous to stop himself from coming in his damn jeans like a teenager. 

“god, sugar,” he said lowly, trailing his nose across your jaw and down your neck before settling his lips on the base of your throat. the feeling made you giggle softly, but it quickly turned into a louder moan as he started to suck on your skin. “you’re ridin’ my thigh so well, huh?” the compliment had you blushing even more than before. 

you never would’ve imagined that joel, quiet, stoic, joel, would be talking to you like one of the heroes in your romance novels. it was better than anything you could have ever thought of. 

“it feels so good, joel,” you whined, sliding your hand from his shoulder to cup the back of his head. you let your fingers dig into his skin, pulling on the small strands of his hair lightly as you bucked your hips against him. he let out a low groan against your neck, his fingers underneath your shirt pinching the spot his thumb just brushed against. 

he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “fuck, i knew you’d be too good to resist. you look so pretty, takin’ what you want from me.” he nipped at your neck, grinning against your skin as you cried out. letting go of your hip, he moved his hand under your shirt with the other one, raising it just enough so that he could see the black bra you were wearing. “can i move this down?” he asked so politely, pressing a small kiss against the skin he just bit.

considering the position you were in, the pleasure this man was making you feel by simply kissing you, you were inclined to let him do whatever he so pleased with you. all you could do was nod your head, give him a small “mhm,” as your eyes started to flutter shut from the tingling sensation happening low in your stomach. 

you heard joel give you a quiet “thank you, baby,” before his hands tugged down the front of your bra. he didn’t bother pulling your shirt off, he didn’t bother taking the bra off entirely. instead, he managed to pull them low enough to have your tits spill over the top, and he bit back a groan before he lowered his mouth to take one of your nipples into his mouth. 

the feeling of his warm mouth against your sensitive skin had you arching your back, pressing your front closer against joel. he slid one of his hands to your lower back, his skin rough against yours, as he encouraged you to move your hips against him. your hand in his hair gripped tightly, practically holding joel against your chest as he nipped and sucked. 

your inner thighs were starting to shake from the movements, and his name was leaving your mouth like a prayer. it only encouraged him more, and he started to softly bounce his leg while you moved against it, giving you even more friction. you felt the heat from your stomach pool to your center, and you weren’t even able to form a coherent thought anymore. you couldn’t help your eyes from squeezing shut, couldn’t help your mouth from falling open, couldn’t help the borderline pornographic moans that emitted from your lips. 

“that’s it, sugar. gonna make yourself cum against my thigh, huh?” joel asked, pulling away from your chest as he watched you with hooded eyes. you were completely lost in the pleasure, could feel yourself soak through your panties with how wet you were becoming. you had never cum like this before, but god this would definitely not be the last time. that was a sentiment that you both had shared. 

“fuck, joel,” you squeaked out, increasing your hips movements against his thigh. his hand on your back gave you support, and he pinched your nipples roughly once more before he gripped your throat and brought your mouth back against his. this kiss was harder, messier, and more urgent than the kiss before. your teeth bumped against his, you felt your lips getting wet with spit, and fuck but you loved it. joel was usually so in control, so calm, and seeing him become so rushed, so frantic, it nearly pushed you to your orgasm alone. 

the thing that did it for you, though, was joel pulling away slightly, your noses brushing together as he offered you quiet words of encouragement. “you’re doing such a good job, just like that, baby. look at you, makin’ a mess on my thigh.” his breath invaded your space, making you gasp as you fought to get air as his hand tightened around your neck. he kissed you once more, just a gentle press of his lips against yours, and you lost it. 

your body curled in on itself as you came, white hot heat flooding your senses as you fell into joel’s chest with a loud cry. you were gripping him tightly, anchoring yourself to him as your body trembled. he held you tightly, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead and rubbing his hand up and down your back. he was grinning the entire time, his ego raising indefinitely at the fact that he had been able to make you feel this good. 

your face was pressed in the crook of his neck, and you were surprised to find genuine tears lingering in your eyes. that knowledge had you giggling, and you must have been delirious because you couldn’t stop it from happening. joel tilted his head back. “what the hell are you laughin’ at right now?” he asked, incredulously. he had never had a girl laugh after being with him. 

you could hear the slight panic in his voice, which made you laugh even more, but you sat back. “you made me cry,” you admitted to him, running your fingers underneath your eyes to wipe away the stray tears. joel let out a snort, which had you laughing once again. his thumbs moved to replace your fingers, gently moving across your skin until the wet was cleared up. he leaned up, placing a kiss gently on your forehead. “you okay?” he asked, softly caressing your skin with his hands. 

you bit down on your bottom lip, feeling more than okay, and you gave him a quick nod before taking his mouth with yours. the kiss was soft, but you were well intended to give joel the same amount of affection. your hand had just trailed down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his jeans, when you heard your front door open. 

“hello?” ellie’s voice rang out from the entryway, forcing you and joel apart. you had never moved so quickly, swinging your leg off of his thigh and fixing your top to cover your chest once again. you were still kneeling on the couch near joel when ellie stomped her way into the living room, giving the two of you a weird look. “why are you guys sitting so close to each other?” 

“she had somethin’ in her eye,” joel’s response was so quick, it almost made you snort. “what the hell are you doin’ here, kid? and didn’t i teach you how to knock first?” his irritation was palpable, which you found funny. poor guy was probably seconds away from coming in his pants. 

“geez, sorry. i saw that some of the other guys were back early, and you weren’t home so i figured you’d be here.” she explained, holding her hands up in surrender. joel pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, trying to get his breathing under control. he had no right to be mad at ellie, and it wasn’t that he was actually mad… he was just trying not to embarrass himself in front of you. 

“why’d you figure that, els?” you asked, loving the fact that ellie knew joel well enough that he would come over here if he wasn’t at home first. even if you guys had just made out on your couch, you still liked the validation that joel maybe, possibly liked you back. 

“where else would he be? he literally never leaves the house unless it’s to come over here, and he hasn’t shut up about you since you first met.” she threw herself down in one of the chairs across the room from you, completely oblivious to the glare joel was shooting her way. 

“oh really?” your voice was teasing as you turned your head to joel, who easily fixated his glare on you. you wiggled on your knees slightly next to him, which caused his eyes to darken. 

“don’t you ‘oh, really?’ me like that. is this how it’s gonna be? the two of you gangin’ up on me from now on? because i don’t think i like it very much.” he slouched back against the couch, folding his arms across his chest. 

“yes, you do.” you and ellie chirped back at the same time, giving each other a grin as joel shook his head. he muttered something under his breath before standing up, adjusting his jeans as he did. ellie hopped up from her chair, too, rubbing her hands on her stomach. “can we get something from the tipsy bison? i’m starving.” 

“sure, kid.” joel responded, ruffling her hair as she passed by him. she didn’t even bother to wave goodbye before she moved out the front door, leaving joel and you alone again. he glanced at the door until it was shut before turning back your way, placing his hand under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“we’ll talk about this later, yeah?” he asked, his brown eyes soft as they focused on your face. you simply nodded, finding yourself shifting up on your knees so that you could kiss him one more time. joel sighed as you did, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. he bid you a goodnight before he followed ellie out of your house. 

sinking back into the couch cushions, you couldn’t help but let yourself freak out for a moment. never in your wildest dreams did you anticipate your evening taking a turn like this, and you were looking forward to seeing joel again so that you could talk. hopefully, talking isn’t the only thing we do, you thought, the grin on your face wider than ever. 

after kissing joel miller, it was decided. you were falling harder and harder for that man, and you didn’t mind it a single bit. 

tag list *:·ﾟ@yyiikes @farintonorth @scarletsloveletter @miss-celestial-being @thatgingefromtheinternet @javicstories @marianita195 @feliciab1990

[lemotmo]

I'm nervous to send anything but certain topics aren't being posted or answered anymore so this feels safe! But feel free to tell me NO! ❤️

Q. Have you seen the Tik Tok Ryan watched about how if Eddie isn't gay then they've just made him the biggest jerk possible when it comes to dating? 😂 I mean she wasn't wrong. Having hope makes me nervous!

A. Haha, yes, I saw the Tik Tok and it does make him look particularly bad in the context of dating. But it just continues to prove what a very hard corner they've written themselves into where Eddie is concerned. He is not a bad guy. He's not. He's a good man with a very deep sense of duty, responsibility, obligation and expectation. And in that context the women he has chosen to date, post Shannon, make sense. His relationship with Anna was always the obvious head scratcher because on paper she was absolutely the perfect person for him, but the relationship always felt off. Once we got the spoiler from the insider saying she was supposed to be the relationship that led to Eddie's sexuality discovery it made the Anna relationship make much more sense. I know there are some who don't want to believe the insider information, but given Tim's history I think he would have repudiated the claim if it had been false. We have already seen Tim correct false information this off season, so I see no reason why he wouldn't have corrected that one as well if it were untrue. It was everywhere. He knows it was leaked information. Everything Eddie experienced in that relationship further seems to support the idea that the original plan was a sexuality awakening. The panic attacks he was having fit perfectly into this theory as well because Eddie is not a commitment phobe. They never felt like a couple. She felt like Christopher's babysitter. They even had Eddie flat out admit that Christopher loved her so he thought he could force himself to love her too. It's the classic sexuality arc relationship.

Marisol is another mess entirely. You could tell she wasn't meant to be back last season, and they didn't even bother trying to pretend otherwise. I think the Kim nonsense was Tim's way of maybe trying to demonstrate that Eddie just doesn't feel like he can find a connection with anyone else, romantically speaking, and he was reaching out so hard for doppelganger Shannon because he thought she could tell him why. There is absolutely no other plausible reason for that storyline. Eddie specifically told Buck that it wasn't about sex and he didn't want to sleep with her. He wanted to talk to her, and once he was able to, what he talked about was how broken he feels. That is where we are with Eddie. That very much feels like trying to recreate where he was mentally in season 4 without retelling the same storyline. So it feels very much like they're headed in the sexuality direction. I understand people are hesitant to allow themselves to be excited about the possibility. And they are correct when they say we have no proof that's where they're going. But what I will say is that it's okay to say that things feel genuinely different this time around. It feels very different than it ever has before. And we're allowed to acknowledge that. Oliver and Ryan are behaving in ways they never have before. And we're allowed to also acknowledge that. Ryan has very much followed Oliver's pattern from last off season. He has followed the same interview patterns, right down to switching to gender neutral pronouns. And he is following the same fandom behavior from Oliver last season. He is being very openly pro Buddie. Acknowledging the corner the show has written themselves into, and acknowledging the patterns that Oliver and Ryan are following and repeating is not giving false hope or unfairly raising expectations. It's acknowledging the clear change. That's all anyone is doing. If it makes certain people feel better to be adamant that it's not happening, fine. That's their fandom right. But it's other people's fandom right to be excited about and to acknowledge the possibility of the storyline. A storyline that feels very much within reach. Let people be excited.

Hey Nonny! I'm firmly saying YES to be honest. I know that Ali also isn't posting about certain subjects and topics anymore. So please, don't be afraid to drop something in my inbox. As long as it's not about fandom messes, it's fine. Thanks again for doing this. I do appreciate it.

If we all focus a bit more on fandom positivity, we can hopefully counter some of the negativity.

As for Ali's answer? Yes, yes and yes. The playing field has been set and all the pawns are exactly where they should be to get Eddie out of that closet and into Buck's arms (after some extra loopholes, no doubt).

I agree so hard on the fact that it's okay to be excited and hopeful. Let yourself hope. Why not? What have we got to lose at this stage? Besides our sanity that is. 😉

And yes, the people out there who are being cautious about Buddie? They have ever right to be. I mean, nothing is set in stone at this point. So, it's more than fine to want to hold back on the excitement for a while.

We can all coexist just fine, if we respect each others opinions and POVs, because after all:

We all have the same end-goal in mind. 😋

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[reputationmunson]

Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

part one | part two | part three | part 4

series summary: steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: a day at the lake with the Harringtons followed by a night out

content: steve and reader arguing (what’s new), drinking, swearing, these two idiots being in love, she/her pronouns, use of y/n

word count: 3.3k

_

You wake up with a wine-induced headache and you look over to see the spot next to you empty.

Yeah, you and Steve kissed last night, but so what? It didn’t mean anything. It was simply all part of the plan to be a more convincing couple. It would be weird if you guys didn’t share a quick peck every now and then if you were so ‘in love’ like you claimed to be, right?

You quickly shake it off and leave the bedroom to find out where Steve went. You’re half expecting to find a note that says ‘hey that kiss made me wanna flee the country. see you never’

Instead, you see Steve sitting on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs, taking in the scenery.

“Good morning” you say and sit down in the chair next to him. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a nod instead. You refuse to let it be awkward. The weekend has only begun and there’s no way you’re going to let a dumb kiss that meant absolutely nothing make everything weirder than it already is.

“Remember when we kissed last?” you try to lighten the mood. “Do we really have to talk about that? It’s been bugging me all morning”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me all morning, huh?” you tease and he lets out an irritated sigh “do you not know how to be serious about anything?”

“What's there to be serious about? We kissed, for scientific reasons I might add, and it doesn’t have to be weird.” you shrug like it’s no big deal. Except it is a big deal, to Steve, at least. The kiss wasn’t terrible, he might’ve even liked it and he doesn’t want to be dramatic, but that might be the worst thing that’s ever happened. “It is weird though, isn't it?”

“Why? because you liked it?” you ask, expecting him to immediately deny it, but he doesn’t. “Steve? you liked it, didn’t you?” you boast. “No! no, I didn't like it. It was just really stupid and I think it’s insane that you don’t regret it”

“Oh my god, Steve. It was a kiss! You didn’t even hesitate, you practically jumped at the opportunity! then, you initiated the second one!” you proclaim. “Jumped? You were the one making that face!” he argues and you scoff “Face? What face? I was not making a face!” you insist and his eyes roll. “Oh, you so were. You were all like ‘Steve, please kiss me! I’ll even pout my lips and bat my eyelashes at you’” he attempts to make the look that you were allegedly making last night.

“Are you admitting that you think I’m irresistible?” you smirk at him and the triumphant look on his face immediately disappears. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” he says, avoiding an answer to your question. “Yeah, okay, but you still think I’m irresistible” you chaff and he stands up. “You’re about as irresistible as a bed of nails that got set on fire. Now, if you’re done arguing with me, we gotta get ready”

“Ready for what?” you question “There’s a private beach around here and my family wants to go in about an hour” he tells you as you follow him inside. “An hour?! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” you chastise. “Because you were too busy drooling on your pillow this morning and no, you don’t have time to yell at me because you’re gonna need all the time you can get to look decent before we leave”

_

Apart from the human embodiment of stepping on a piece of gum in a new pair of shoes that is Steve Harrington, today was a lovely day. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze that balanced perfectly with the weather, making the heat more bearable. The beach was nice, too. It was secluded and Steve’s family were the only people here. Now, if only you could find a way to leave Steve stranded that would make this day even better.

“You finally made it! We were starting to worry!” Steve’s mom, Joanne, greets you. “Sorry about that, Steve forgot to tell me about it last night so I got a late start getting ready” you explain.

“That’s Steve for you. Communication and time-management skills shouldn’t go on his resume if he ever decides to get a real job” His dad chimes in and you can’t help but feel a little bad. “Oh, no, he’s usually always great when it comes to that. We just all have our off days” you defend him and Steve gives you a slight smile as a way to thank you.

“Exactly, George, give Steve a break. I know it’s a little early, but I brought some wine if you’d like some, y/n. It is a vacation after all.” Steve’s mom seems to drink a lot of wine, but if you were married to someone as condescending as George, you would too. “I’d love a glass, thank you”

You sit with Joanne on a blanket while Steve goes over to join his cousins. She pours you a hefty glass of wine and you decide she’s your favorite Harrington.

“How are you two enjoying the house? I know it’s a little small, but we wanted you to be close to us” Their definition of ‘small’ is much different than yours. “It’s perfect, thank you, again. Steve and I had our coffee this morning while admiring the view” okay, you didn’t have coffee, you had a little disagreement, but you were still admiring the view.

“Steve seems absolutely smitten with you. I know I have my faults as a mother, but I still have my instincts and they tell me that maybe in a few years we’ll have another wedding to put on our calendars”

“Oh, I um-”

Before you can get a response out, Steve comes out of nowhere and you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful for his presence. “We've been challenged to a game of chicken. best two outta three, you in?”

“hm, I don’t know. Do you have to be my partner? I would like to win” you tease. “yes, because it’s couple versus couple and you know you can’t win without me. c’mon” he offers his hand to help pull you up off the ground.

When you pull off your bathing suit cover up, Steve knows he should look away. He shouldn’t care that the one-piece you’re wearing in the god awful shade of your signature color, hugs your body perfectly. His eyes definitely shouldn’t briefly flick down to your ass when you bend over to set the coverup on the blanket, but they do.

“Ready?” you ask, pulling him out of whatever weird trance he was just in. “y-yeah. let’s go”

“What did my mom say? you looked a little freaked out back there” he asks once she’s out of earshot. “something about you being just so head over heels for me and how we’re going to be married in a few years” you let out a sigh like it’s something to brush over. “Don’t listen to her, she’s drinking too much wine. Something you guys seem to have in common”

“how else am i supposed to cope with being your lover”

“gross. don’t say that” he whines and you laugh at him as you always do.

“this water is freezing!” you squeal as the water comes to the shore. “hm, really? how freezing?” he asks with a tone that sounds like he has a plan. “that’s a dumb q-” before you can finish your insult, Steve lunges at you and his arms wrap around your waist and he drags you deeper into the water.

“Steve! let me go!” you screech. “if you insist” he replies before dunking you into the water. You get a hold of him and pull him down with you. There’s no way you were going down without a fight.

You both emerge from the cold water, laughing and neither of you have a look of anger on your faces. Which is strange because usually just the sound of each breathing is enough to set either of you off, but you rarely ever see him have fun. It’s kind of nice to see him let loose even if that means being submerged in frigid water.

“If you lovebirds are done, we’re ready to take you down now” his cousin shouts and you both quickly retrieve your touch from one another. “you think you’re gonna be alright with my legs on your shoulders?” you ask him, not meaning for it to intend to sound as dirty as it came out and his cheeks turn pink. “my god, Steve, stop being a perv and squat down. We are not losing this game”

Steve crouches down so you can sit on top of his shoulders. He hands grip your thighs to steady you and you thread your fingers through his hair to keep your balance. He notices that your thighs are soft and smooth. It’s probably from the lotion that you constantly put on ‘cause you smell nice too. He hopes this game is over as soon as possible.

As the ‘battle’ starts, his grip on your thighs tighten, but you don’t have time to focus on the way it’s making you feel when you’re worried about trying to take down the other team.

You win surprisingly fast. Steve was expecting an immediate takedown that resulted in your flying off of his shoulders. Actually, it was more like hoping than expecting. You’re unexpectedly competitive. Steve figured since you’re so sweet and shy (other people’s words, definitely not Steve’s), that you’d go done in a split second, but you stuck to your guns. He’s decently impressed.

“I’m gonna take a walk to dry off. do you wanna join me?” he asks once you’re out of the water. “yeah that sounds nice”

As you walk, your arm wraps around his and he accepts it without question. “I’m gonna say something but don’t let it swell your ego any more than it already is” he starts and you refrain from a sarcastic comment. “I'm having fun with you today and I guess it’s not totally awful that you’re here”

“Should we get you to a hospital? I think there’s a blood-sucking leech in your brain”

“yeah, i think so too” he looks over at you and sees you're already looking at him. The sunshine really does something to his eyes and makes the freckles on his face more noticeable, you could almost connect them like a constellation. Maybe there’s a blood-sucking leech in your brain too.

“I'm having a good time too. Ya know, despite having to constantly be around you” you joke and he chuckles. “well lucky for you, the guys and I are going out to some bar so you’ll have the place to yourself for a while”

“thank god. i’m going to need some time to recover from being nice to you”

“you and me both, y/n. you and me both”

_

With Steve being gone, you had planned a relaxing evening. There was a little general store not far from the house and you’d gotten all the necessities; snacks, a face mask, and some stuff for a bubble bath. You’re about to start a bath when you hear a knock at the door and you pray that Steve isn’t back already.

“Hi!” One of the Harrington wives, Mary, greets you when you open the door. “Hi! Steve isn’t here-”

“Oh, I know. I’m here for you! Are you still getting ready?” She asks when she notices your robe and face mask. “Getting ready for what?” you question. “We’re meeting the guys at the bar! Didn’t Steve tell you?”

“Y-yeah, he did. I just thought it was a pity invite” you lie. “I don’t really have anything to wear for a night out”

“Honey, let me tell you something that I wish someone told me when I first joined this family; never travel without your favorite little black dress when you take a trip with the Harringtons. Especially us young ones. Those boys always go out”

“I don’t have a little black dress. '' You mumble, a little embarrassed. “Lucky for you, I always bring an extra. Here, try it on!” she hands you a dress from her bag along with a pair of black heels to match. Steve is definitely going to make fun of you for this.

You were expecting to feel out of place in this dress, but honestly, you look hot. The dress is a spaghetti strap with a simple square neckline and it’s shorter than what your choice might’ve been, but it’s stunning.

“Oh my gosh, you look incredible! Steve won’t be able to keep his hands off you” she squeals.“I don’t know about that…” you mutter. “Please. I see the way he looks at you and once he sees you in this dress he’s going to lose it”

People keep talking about the way Steve ‘looks’ at you and you’re starting to think they’re just saying it to say it. How can they confuse his looks of dislike and revulsion with love? No wonder Steve thinks his family is crazy

“Alright, I brought us some drinks and they aren’t going to drink themselves. Let’s get to it!”

_

“Hi, boys. Miss us?” Mary announces once you all approach the half-circle booth the boys are sat at. Steve does a double take when he sees you. Not only was he not expecting to see you here, he definitely wasn’t expecting to see you in that dress.

“Hi, Stevie” you say in a sing-song voice. There’s no denying you’re already a little tispy. Your eyes are glassy and you have a loopy grin on your face. “Hi, babe. I thought you were staying in tonight?”

“I was going too but I just missed you. I hope it’s okay I’m here”

“Oh, it’s fine” One of the men interjects. “Steve’s been talking about you all night”

“I have not. They’ve been asking about you and I’ve been answering questions” he explains. “And what have you been saying, Stevie?” you wonder. “He was just telling us-”

“Alright, that’s enough. How about you grab a chair and sit down, yeah?” You look around to try and find an empty chair but with the bar being crowded, there aren’t any available. “Just sit on Steve’s lap! None of us are prudes, clearly” Mary says and you look at Steve with hesitance. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just hop on” hop on? he repeats in his head. He can’t believe he just said that.

You sit on his lap like it’s something you’ve done a million times before. Your arm wraps around his shoulders while his arm wraps around your waist. Once you’re seated comfortably, his hand comes to rest on your thigh, a little too close for comfort. Your breath hitches slightly and you hope Steve didn’t notice. He did notice, and he’s planning on using this against you later.

Steve can’t focus on any of the conversations happening because the only thing on his mind is the fact that he doesn’t entirely hate your closeness. He blames it on the alcohol coursing through his veins. You look rather pretty tonight and you smell so good that it’s more intoxicating than the drink in his glass.

He absentmindedly begins to rub your thigh and you let out a small gasp, causing him to smirk. “Sorry. Just keeping up appearances” he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s fine” you whisper back.

Except, it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t that his touch was making you uncomfortable, it was the complete opposite and that was the problem. You felt yourself melting into his touch and craving it every time his hand left your thigh so he could take a sip of his drink.

You feel like you should regret not staying back at the house, but you don’t. Not even a little bit.

_

“You have to turn the key to the right, Steeevvvee” you drunkenly whine as Steve tries to unlock the front door. “I am turning it to the right” he whines back, mocking your tone. “That’s the left” you point out. “You try it then” he challenges. “Watch and learn, pretty boy”

The key doesn’t budge. You turn it left, you turn it right and nothin’. “Watch and learn. I’m soooo much smarter than Steve” he mimics you as you drop the key on the porch. “It’s broken! What’re we gonna do?” you pout, standing close enough that your chest is flush with his. “Follow me”

You follow Steve to a window that’s slightly open a little higher up than other windows. “I can’t climb through that window in a dress!” you exclaim. “Well, you can’t lift me, so up ya go”

“That is so sexist”

“I know, I’m the worst, blah blah blah. C’mon, let’go” Steve hooks his hands together for you to use as a step. You grip his shoulders and once you're balanced, you’re able to grab the window frame. “I need more of a boost” you tell him. “This is all the boost I got”

“Then throw me!”

“Are you insane? I’m not gonna throw you!”

“We’ll sleep outside, then”

“I have an idea, but don’t punch me! I’m gonna have to touch your butt” he giggles like a four-year-old when he says ‘butt’, making you giggle too. “Lucky you, then. Try not to bust in your pants, okay”

“You sure are confident when you’re drunk. Okay, on three” Steve counts to three and pushes you as much as he can until you’re able to pull yourself through the window. “I’m in!”

“Yeah, I see that. Go unlock the door” he says and you shake your head. “Oh, no no no. If I had to do this, so do you. It’s fun!”

“Why do you have to make everything difficult?”

“Scared you can’t do it?” you taunt. “What was that you said earlier? Watch and learn?”

Steve starts to climb the house and you can’t help but laugh at how many times he slips. Once he’s almost made it, you grab his hand and pull him into the house causing him to topple you to the ground and throwing you both into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, I admit that was fun” he says, a bit breathless. “I know. I’m full of great ideas”

You both stand up and flop onto the bed. “I’m ready to go to sleeo” Steve says with a yawn and closes his eyes. “Noooo, you can’t sleep in those clothes. That’s so uncomfy”

“I can’t move” he grumbles. You move to stand at the foot of the bed and reach your arms out to him. “Get up. Just grab my hands” he lazily grabs your hands and you let out a groan as you pull him up. “Hey, I’m not that heavy” he laughs. “If you say so”

Neither of you have moved from where you’re standing. Your hands are still holding his and his face is close to yours that you could count his eyelashes. “You look really pretty tonight” he whispers like he’s afraid you’ll hear him. “You don’t have to say that. No one’s around”

“And if I said I wanted to kiss you… what would you say to that?” his hand comes up to cradle your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“I’d say it’s a bad idea” you slightly lean in “I know” he leans in closer.

“We hate each other”

“We do”

“And we really shouldn’t kiss ‘cause I don’t think I’ll be able to stop”

“Okay” His nose brushes yours, but his lips press against your cheek instead. This is the one time you wish he wouldn’t listen to you.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop either” Steve confesses before going to get changed in the bathroom, leaving you to feel more confused than you’ve ever felt.

Fuck.

_

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