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mariasont · 9 months ago

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Talking to a Brick Wall - A.H

a/n: rip erin strauss you would've hated this fic

masterlist

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pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader

summary: in which you overhear your boyfriend aaron's phone call

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, happy ending but also a terrible ending bc i SUCK at endings xoxo

wc: 2.3k

You had called out your boyfriend's name multiple times as you wandered into his house. He had asked you a while ago if you wanted to come over for a movie night tonight and hell would have to freeze over before you ever declined that offer. However, upon arrival, you were greeted by silence; no response to the doorbell, his phone, or your voice. Thankfully, the key he'd given you last year jingled in your pocket as you let yourself in.

You had a pretty strong suspicion he'd be in his office--after all, this was Aaron Hotchner, a man who definitely did not believe in leaving work at the office.

And sure enough, his voice filtered through the slightly ajar door, the rich hue of his mahogany desk framing the gap. You were about to move towards the living room, assuming he was on a work call of some sorts, but his words stopped you dead in your tracks.

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm speaking, but the understanding isn't there. You know what I mean? It's like the concepts just float in one ear and out the other."

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together, as your hand found the wall, leaning towards the door. He couldn't have been talking about you, right?

"I try to share details, to get her involved, but it's met with this vacant nod. As if the depth of it all just doesn't register."

Oh. Her. You tried to fan away the wetness that threatened to fall down your cheeks, each rapid motion a desperate attempt to convince yourself you were imagining things.

"And I'm patient, I really am. But when you're met with that blank look, it's... disheartening. You start to wonder if it's worth explaining at all. It's like talking to a wall."

Okay, that stung. It was like an immediate punch to the gut, your heart seeming to drop into the pit of your stomach. Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to rationalize his words, but nothing was really making sense right now.

The internal battle was a cruel one: stay and endure the sharp sting of his words or leave and miss more of what he had to say. The latter won, pulling you away from the door.

You knew you were never going to be the smartest person in the room, and in the past, it was a source of deep-seated insecurity, always a silent specter in the corners of your mind. But then you met Aaron. And he made everything just better. His own intelligence and impressive job never became a yardstick for your worth; he ensured you knew you were more than enough, just as you were.

He had always been the voice reminding you that you were smart in your own right, telling you that your worth transcended any numerical measure of intelligence like a stupid IQ score. But now you were questioning everything.

Anger seemed like the appropriate response, right? But it was hard to be when his words carried a weight of truth to them.

You did have a hard time keeping up when he talked about the complexities of his cases, sometimes feeling like an outsider looking in. But, even if you didn't understand, his passion for what he did was infectious, and you hung on to every word when he explained all the ways his smart brain was able to deduce things about people.

Still, a part of you imagined it was hard for him, that it probably got old fast when you weren't able to hold an intelligent conversation.

Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and it somehow took you only ten minutes to get home when it should've taken you twenty.

It was only when you had taken a shower, put on your favorite pair of pink sweats, brought out some Ben and Jerry's, and turned on Legally Blonde, did you check your phone.

Hi honey. What time are you coming over?

You tried to ignore the sensation of an invisible band drawing tighter across your chest.

so sorry, not feeling good. rain check? xoxo

You hated lying to him. Hated lying in general, save for the occasional white lie to protect someone's feelings. The fact that you weren't lying to his face was a small mercy, because obviously he'd be able to see right through you.

Do you want me to come there? I can bring food.

You wanted to be with him, you really did, you had been counting down the days to this movie night all week. But the thought of sitting beside him, wanting to ask about his day, about his work, now seemed like an intrusion. Knowing that your well-intentioned questions might be a chore for him or a source of frustration. The realization pressed down on you, a heavy weight that threatened to snuff your light.

no that's okie! thank you though <3 i don't want to get you sick!

Your phone was ringing, his name lighting up the screen for a FaceTime call, it felt like a betrayal of your own making. It was a skill you had recently taught him (which took forever), and of course now he was using it. Your finger jabbed at the red button, your cheeks turning the same color.

i look & sound disgustinggg rn

I know for a fact that's incorrect. You have a magical talent of looking incredible no matter what.

I want to see your pretty face.

you can be so flattering when u want to mister!

im going to take some medicine & then ill call u l8, k?

Hmm, okay.

love u! xoxo

I love you too, pretty girl.

You hated this. Your eyes were puffy, swollen and wet as you discarded the phone onto the nightstand. He deserved someone who wasn't so pathetic.

You wallowed in self-pity all night, and then all day, and then all week. You went through the motions--getting up, going to work, and then making up some lame excuse when Aaron asked to see you. Name it, and you had probably said it. In reality, you had been holed up in your room, trading glossy magazine pages for confusing behavioral books.

The subject matter was as dull as dishwater, making paint-watching seem thrilling. But you were committed to bringing some depth to your next conversation with him.

Today's excuse had been some half-truths about being buried in work--which in hindsight seemed comical, given you worked at a bakery and there wasn't much that could take up your time outside of contract hours.

You were splayed across the couch in an upside-down sprawl as you attempted to focus on the scholarly gibberish that filled the pages. 'Homology,' 'dichotomy,' and 'typology' melded into a migraine-inducing blur, tempting you to slam the book shut. You were fighting every urge to throw it out the window and paint your nails with that new glittery polish you've been dying to try.

At the insistent knock, you clapped the book shut (thank god) and stood, brows knitting, as you navigated to the door with a soft scuffle of slippers on polished wood.

Flinging it open, you halted, breath caught. "Aaron? Oh, hi, what are you doing here?"

The words sprang forth before you could catch them, your hands scrambling up to smooth the evidence of your couch-induced disarray.

He fixes you a pointed stare as he steps into your apartment, invitation be damned you guess. "I find myself repeating this, yet it seems necessary--peephole first, then the door, sweetheart."

You clamp your teeth onto your lip with such force, you're convinced you've tasted blood. "Oh, right, sorry... I should've remembered."

A flicker of foolishness and a heavy dose of self-consciousness threaten to surface. However, you quickly subdue them, tucking them away as you wrapped your arms around your body, offering him a small smile. Despite everything, your heart leaps at the sight of him. You missed him.

His face softens, his touch soft as he tilts your chin upward. "Look at me. It's fine. I just want to make sure my best girl is safe, that's all."

The temptation to simply crumble there and then, to forget everything and cocoon yourself in his arms, was overwhelming.

You leaned into his hand without thinking, which now claimed the entire area of your cheek. He was always so warm.

You watch as Aaron glances around the room, no doubt noting the absence of work-related clutter. "Still working?"

"Oh, I was, I told my boss I'd help with inventory reports." That part wasn't totally a lie, but it still made your conscience squirm with guilt.

"Do you want help?"

The proposal touches a raw nerve, sparking a defensive reflex. Did he think you were incapable?

"Thanks, but I'm actually all done with them," you lie, your a smile a little too rigid as you head into the living room.

You're keenly aware of his approaching footsteps as you hastily stash that stupid book under a magazine, silently praying he didn't notice. You settle onto the couch, and he joins you, casually drawing your legs over his lap as you recline against the cushions.

"How was your day?"

You wince internally at the automatic question.

"Not too bad," He replies with an easy shrug, his fingers sneaking under your sweats at the ankles, tracing lazy circles on your calves. "We wrapped up some paperwork, had a couple of briefings, and oh, we were introduced to our new consultant today. She specializes in crypto linguistics--really fascinating stuff."

Your eyes flutter briefly, a constriction forming in your throat, a twist in your gut. The mere mention of the consultant being a she amplifies your feelings of insufficiency. It leaves you wondering, why would Aaron ever be interested in someone like you?

"Crypto linguistics?" you repeat, trying to sound curious rather than lost.

He leans in closer to you. "It's a specialized area of linguistics focused on decoding encrypted languages."

You offer a nod, managing a convincing "Yeah, of course," even as your eyes unwittingly drift away from his unwavering stare, betraying a hint of your confusion.

Aaron's hand cradles your head, his fingers sifting through your hair. "Hey," he murmurs, drawing your attention back, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your chin touches your chest as you mumble, barely audible, "hardly anything."

Aaron's expression turns to a frown, his broad hands guiding your ass and thighs as he positions you atop his lap, face-to-face, leaving you exposed with no place to hide. Your name escapes him with a sigh. "I don't believe that for a second."

You match his frown with your own pout, nestling your face into his neck, concealing the rosy hue that has claimed your cheeks. "Just a rough week is all."

"Is that so?" His voice was a gentle murmur, his hands soothingly moving in gentle sweeps across your back as you breathed out unsteadily. "Funny, that's been my week too. My gorgeous girlfriend seems to have been avoiding me all week."

"Have not," you mumble, your breath warm against his skin, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"It's silly."

He guided your face back to his, eyes searching yours. "Listen to me. No, it's not. I don't like when you try to diminish your feelings. Talk to me, honey."

That was your tipping point. A wobble in your lip betrays the onset of tears as your voice breaks.

"I just--I know I'm not as smart as the people you work with or even your past girlfriends. I know I don't get things right away especially when you talk about work, and I see how everyone else is so quick, and I'm here, always a few steps behind. I know that it must be frustrating for you, and I'm scared that one day, you'll get tired of explaining, and your patience will run out, and well, you'll see... you'll see that--"

"Baby, whoa, slow down," Aaron urges, his palms tenderly framing your face, a frown plastered over his face. Your heart hammers against your chest, its rapid beats almost audible, as if it might jump from your body. "Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You draw in a breath.

His thumb delicately erases the tears that have made their way down your cheek.

"When there is something about my work you don't understand, I will gladly go over it as many times as you need. I don't expect you to know everything about that stuff, why would you? That's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because of your incredibly kind heart and the way you see the best in people. I love you because you are you. What is making you think this way, honey? It's breaking my heart."

"I overheard you Aaron," you said, "saying that sometimes it feels like you're talking to a wall when you talk to me."

"What?" he questioned, but his confusion was quickly morphed into concern. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I was talking about Strauss and her lack of understanding of our fieldwork."

"Oh."

"I would never speak about you like that, you know that, right? And if, in some alternate universe, I did, you need to break up with me, or better yet, set me straight." His hands stayed firmly on your face. "You should never tolerate that from me or anyone else, understood?"

You bit down on your lip, hands resting on his shoulders as you nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, sending fireworks to every inch of you as he mumbled against your mouth, "that's my girl."

taglist: @hotchhner

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #Spotify

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oracle-of-dream · 11 months ago

Text

Frame by Frame

Minors DNI

Summary: Your brother Jay invited his friend Sunghoon over to spend the night at the house. The three of you had mostly grown up together, so you knew him pretty well. Something's off with him... he keeps looking at you.

Warnings: Male Reader, Muscle Kink, Rough Sex, Brother's Best friend, Breeding, Spit play, Pet names (Baby), Soft Dom Sunghoon, Sunghoon has a big dick, Aftercare, Jaywon (briefly)

Wordcount: 3.5k

You woke up from a midday nap to the smell of food being cooked downstairs. The Sun was still shining into your window, but you could tell it was the afternoon by its dark orange color.

Climbing out of bed, you remembered your parents said they'd be out of town for the week. Probably because it was spring break for you, and they didn't want to be around when both their kids would be home again. They were way too happy to send you and your brother off to college...

You put on some sort of t-shirt before leaving your room to investigate the kitchen. There were two voices; one was Jay, your brother. The other was Sunghoon, his best friend since you were five years old. Sunghoon and Jay went everywhere together. To the movies, the gym, cafes, and even the same college too. It really felt like they were dating each other with how much Sunghoon was around, even if your parents treated him like another kid.

Stepping into the kitchen, you saw Sunghoon in a sleeveless red shirt with gray sweatpants. Jay was wearing something similar in green and black. They probably just came back from the gym. Jay had shouted something about it before you'd fallen asleep.

"It smells good. What's on the menu today, chef?" You smiled at your brother the way you did when you needed something from him.

"If you do the dishes after dinner, then it's a tomato bruschetta with salmon," Jay replied without looking up at you.

"What!? Why do I have to do the dishes?"

"You want to eat the food I'm working hard to make, then you have to contribute."

You rolled your eyes. "You hate the way I wash the dishes, you always say it's not done right and end up doing them anyway–and what about Sunghoon? He's eating too, so he has to do the dishes!"

Sunghoon was about to protest but Jay beat him to it. "Fine. Both of you start washing these dishes. If it's not clean by the time I'm done, then the dog is eating really well tonight."

Sunghoon didn't bother arguing. "I wash, you dry?" He asked while handing you a clean rag.

Your stomach was too empty to think of a good argument about why Sunghoon was the person who should do everything. "Fine," You snatched the rag from him and lifted yourself onto the counter to sit. For the next ten minutes, you dried the dishes as he handed them to you. Your mind wandered, thinking about how hungry you were. You looked over at Sunghoon washing the dishes, his huge biceps flexing as he worked over every dish. He'd been going to the gym as much as Jay, but he always had a better shape than him. His arms were incredible, his shoulders also pretty broad, and his side profile wasn't half bad either... He definitely wasn't the kid you'd grown up with anymore.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Sunghoon's eyes looking over at you, catching you staring at him.

"Y/n, you alright?"

"Y–Yeah, just still a little drowsy..."

Jay finished making the food and started planting the table. "Did you really sleep all day, y/n?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Those are the same pajamas you've been wearing for the past two days..." He dryly replied.

"Well–What did you do today, Jay?"

"I cleaned the house, got groceries, picked up Sunghoon, and then we went to the gym. Then we came back here and I cooked for the entire house."

"Three people, but okay... that's supposed to be a break and you're working like a house husband!"

Jay picked up the plate sitting at your place at the table. "So, that's a no to the food?"

"Okay–Let's not get out of hand. You started it."

"That's what I thought," Jay set your plate down and returned to his seat. He waited for you and Sunghoon to finish the dishes and join him. Dinner was pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausages, with a bowl of fruit. Jay knew you loved breakfast for dinner, and it was all prepared and set to perfection.

You all eat together, not talking very much as you focus on the food. Sunghoon was wolfing the food down like usual, making a mess.

"Hey, you're going to get food on the floor!" You pushed him slightly, "I'm not cleaning the floor if you make a mess."

He replied with a mouth full of food, "Relax, Mom!" Sunghoon has egg on his face and crumbs on his shirt.

You pinched the egg off his face and tossed it to the dog to eat. But when you looked back at Sunghoon, he was staring at you.

"What? Were you gonna eat that?" You asked.

He shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The air hung heavy between you. Sunghoon has been acting like that sometimes around you, creating some sort of tension between you. But you couldn't think of what you could've done to make him bothered by you. He was fine earlier...

Jay cut through the silence. "Well. Sunghoon, are you still staying the night?"

Sunghoon nodded. More invested in the food now, even though his plate was almost empty.

Jay turned to you, "Y/n, you doing anything tonight? We can all hang out if you want."

You shrugged. "I don't think I've got anything for me. So I'll be around."

The three of you continued dinner without much extra conversation. You went back to your room, Jay started washing the dishes from dinner, and Sunghoon stayed in the kitchen to talk to Jay.

You watched some TikToks in your room until you got a text from Sunghoon.

SH: Hey...

You sat up in bed so you could give it more attention. Why would he put the ... in there?

YN: What's up?

SH: I hope I didn't make you upset earlier. About the dishes. You were kinda giving me daggers, so I just wanted to make sure we're cool.

YN: Of course! I didn't mean to look upset, I was just thinking.

SH: What, about?

YN: Random stuff, I can't even really remember it now...

You knew you couldn't just say, "Oh I was thinking about how good you've been looking these days. Great gains, bro!" You needed to play it cool.

SH: Oh, okay. Can I get your thoughts on something?

Your heart raced, just for a moment.

YN: What is it?

SH: What do you think about this, hot or not? Jay says not.

You stared at the picture of Sunghoon in the gym's locker room. You tried not to laugh at his expression.

YN: I think you could work on your expression. Try smiling or something. Most guys just focus on showing their body rather than their face at the gym anyway.

There was a pause in the messages. Sunghoon didn't reply for a full five minutes...

SH: What about these?

YN: Sunghoon, why do you need me to tell you if you look good? You've always been the most handsome out of you, me, and Jay.

SH: Well, Jay won't even look at them. But it's good to know you think I'm good-looking.

You blushed and scoffed at your phone... You couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing to you. Your body was going crazy.

YN: Well, whatever. I think the photos are all fine.

SH: Last one.

You braced yourself for another sleeveless selfie, but what you got was way better.

You almost dropped your phone when you saw him shirtless. He was absolutely doing it on purpose. Making sure not to actually show you anything, just some collarbone.

SH: Thoughts?

YN: Yep, still looks good.

SH: Well, you can send me photos too. Let me rate you.

You caught a look of yourself in the reflection of your phone. You looked more than a little rough.

YN: Um, I don't really have photos...

SH: Then should we fix that? I can take some photos for you.

YN: Why do I need pictures?

SH: ...I dunno. It just felt fair, since I forced you to look at me. I should look at you too.

You thought about sending Sunghoon photos of yourself. What kind of photos would he even want?

YN: What kinda photos are we talking about?

SH: Anything, I'm just here to help. Just like you did for me.

You spent almost twenty minutes trying to find a photo that seemed decent enough to send. Changing your outfit, messing with your hair, cleaning your room a little bit. You settled on a candid photo of you reading a book in some loose-fitting clothes. Your shirt was almost falling off your shoulders, and your shorts barely peeked out to show you were wearing any. You sent it to Sunghoon and waited anxiously for his response.

SH: Looks good.

You frowned at his response. You really look all the time just to get that kind of response from him... You tossed your phone away from you and went to the living room to find Jay and Sunghoon. Both were sitting on the couch, using their phones. But as soon as you walked in, Sunghoon tucked his phone.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom really quick." He said as he brushed past you.

Jay didn't acknowledge it, but you sure did. Sunghoon was acting weird again.

"Jay, have you noticed anything about Sunghoon lately?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Same old Sunghoon."

You scoffed at your brother. "Since when have you been so uncaring?"

"And since when did you care so much?" Jay raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his phone.

"Never!" You turned and stormed off from Jay. Clearly, he wasn't going to be helpful, so you needed to get to the bottom of things yourself. As soon as you got into the hallway of the bathroom, you could see the light was on, but the door was barely open. The bathroom door got messed up when Jay closed the door too hard, making it difficult to keep the door shut. A small push could open it. But Sunghoon didn't know that. You moved forward to pull it closed, but then heard Sunghoon breathing heavily.

You leaned closer to the door to listen.

"...Jeez. You're so beautiful. Y/n, holy fuck." Sunghoon softly moaned.

You moved to peek through the crack. Sunghoon was jerking himself to something on his phone, moaning your name. You didn't realize you were holding your breath watching him. His hand stroked quickly, his hair bounced lightly, and his mouth hung open with his eyes squeezed shut. His thick arms pulsed, and his veins popped. His legs shook and shifted in pleasure. You inched closer to get a better look at Sunghoon's phone, but accidentally touched the door which creaked slightly and scared Sunghoon.

"Y–Y/N! I–" Sunghoon scrambled to cover himself but he dropped his phone while doing it. His phone landed face up, showing what he was masturbating to; the photo of yourself you'd sent earlier...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk here..." You said as you turned around and shut the door.

There was shuffling, and then the door opened. Sunghoon's face was wracked with guilt. "Y/n, I'm sorry. I..." His voice trailed off, not knowing what to say.

You turned to him. "Be honest."

He gulped before opening his mouth to answer. "I–I'm really into you, y/n. I've been like this for a while... And, I get it if you're not interested in me."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded. "Come to my room tonight. Wait till Jay's asleep." You walked off toward your room without waiting for his response. You couldn't look him in the face after what you'd seen. All you could think about was his dick and the expression he was making, replaying again and again in your mind. You stayed in your room for the rest of the night, and when Jay knocked on your door to check on you, you told Jay that you didn't want to hang out anymore.

Around midnight, the house had fallen asleep except for you. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you heard a soft knock at the door.

"Y/n? It's me." Sunghoon whispered through the door.

You opened the door and let Sung Hoon in. You sat down on your bed, and he sat down on the far end of it, awkwardly looking at you in the low light of the moon that dripped in from your window.

"I've already seen it, so you can't be awkward with me now." You stated, trying to start the conversation.

"I know... I just didn't want you to find out like that. It's embarrassing." He scratched his head. "You just looked so good in that picture. The moment I saw it, it was hard. And then I saw you in person. I needed to deal with it."

You shifted a little closer to him. "Well, you were sending those pictures first. I was just following your lead."

"I wasn't trying to be sexy in the pictures..."

"Well, you're bad at not being sexy. And, why would you send that shirtless one if you weren't making a pass at me."

Sunghoon's ears went pink. "Well–Maybe I was fishing a little. But I didn't think you'd send anything back to me."

"So it's my fault?"

He turned to you. "No! I didn't mean it like that. I meant–" Sunghoon couldn't finish his sentence as he watched you unbutton your shirt.

"What? Aren't you going to get undressed?"

Sunghoon looked away from you. "Wait, what's actually happening right now?"

You shyly started putting your shirt back on. "I thought you came so we could... have sex. Or something. That was dumb, I'm sorry–"

Sunghoon knelt down in front of you and stopped your hands. "No, it's not dumb. I liked it. I was just thrown for a second. We can do that if you want. But I want to take it off you if you'll let me."

You let your hands rest, Sunghoon slowly stripped off your shirt, touching you gently, caressing your skin, and breathing in your scent deeply as he did. Once your shirt was off, he tossed his aside roughly, revealing his muscular torso to you. You automatically looked away, but he sweetly pulled your chin to face him.

"You can touch me, y/n." He spoke with softness in his voice and looked up at you with warm eyes.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. It was stiff and strong. You traced his muscles down his arm until your hands met his and locked into his fingers.

"We'll go however far you want, y/n. Whatever you want, I'm all yours." He kissed your hand.

"Can you call me baby?"

He chuckled. "Baby."

Your heart fluttered at his deep voice calling out to you.

"Baby, can I touch you?"

You nod.

Sunghoon uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and lift you off the bed, moving you so he'd sit on the bed and you on his lap. "Is this okay?" He slightly leaned in for a kiss, pausing for your consent.

You nod again. Leaning in to meet him.

Sunghoon's hands traced your chest before landing on your hips. Your hands traveled up his waist and stopped at his neck as the two of you made out. Every time you moaned Sunghoon would pull you closer to him, squeezing you slightly. You could feel him slowly grinding into you, his hips lurching upward for just a moment of sensation. You arch your back, laying your ass down to meet him, earning a groan from him.

"Keep doing that, baby." He moaned into the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss. "We can keep moving forward."

Sunghoon lets you climb off of him. The both of you face away from one another as you toss aside your pants and underwear, leaving you both naked.

You felt a little too exposed. "Actually, can I have my shirt back?

Sunghoon handed it to you, and you took it without looking back at him. You slipped it on but left it unbuttoned and open. Slowly, you turned around to let him see you.

"You look amazing with it on. Good call." He complimented.

You blushed at his compliment and lay on the bed. "Are you coming?"

Sunghoon crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over you. "Are you prepared, or do you need me to do it?"

You covered your face. "Don't ask embarrassing questions. Just check if it's enough for you."

Sunghoon smiled. "Will you lick my fingers?"

You moved your hands just enough to show your mouth and let it open. He delicately placed his fingers on your tongue and let you work them over, tossing and turning them. You got them so wet that they were dripping as he took them out.

"Jesus, that's hot." Sunghoon put them in his mouth.

"Hoon–" He then slipped two fingers into you, making you cover your mouth so you didn't slip out any loud noises.

Sunghoon pushed and pulled softly, searching around and bending his fingers. When he found your spot, he felt you suddenly squeeze his fingers. "There it is. Now, I know where to aim."

You were starting to drool with all the foreplay. Or maybe it was an overexcited thing. Either way, Sunghoon noticed and licked your cheek, drinking your spit.

"We're going to start now. Anything you need to do?" He asked one more time for your consent.

"I've been waiting for you to get to it..." You muttered.

"Oh, baby, are you getting impatient?" He teased me.

You didn't answer and Sunghoon lined himself with your hole before slowly sliding his length inside you. You held the sheets of the bed, trying to control your noises as he filled you. He was so big, and every vein and twitch felt like an explosion inside of you. You struggled to stay still while you got used to him.

"You can do it, baby."

You moaned. "Seven inches is more than I've had before..."

"Did you count my inches with your hole? How lewd." Sunghoon chuckled. "And, we're not done yet."

Your mouth twitched a smile. "Just put it all in then."

Sunghoon put his hands on either side of your hips and pulled up into him, putting the last two inches into you.

"Nine!?" You almost screamed.

"Maybe it's 9.5, but who's counting? Now, stay quiet, or Jay will wake up." He leaned down to you, sliding his hand under your head. "Bite me if you need to."

You thought you didn't need to until you felt his hips move, and then your mouth instantly fixed itself to Sunghoon's collar. He groaned as he started moving slowly but picked up the pace when you moaned. Your thighs were raised, and your legs were around his waist, shaking as Sunghoon pulled you into him to meet his thrusts. You could feel Sunghoon's muscles moving and tensing as he controlled your body. He leaned back to see his work on you and caught you staring at his chest. His pecs were so big and bounced with every thrust.

"Oh? Does Baby like my chest? Wanna touch it?"

You nodded breathlessly.

Sunghoon leaned back down for you to touch them comfortably.

You squeeze them, pinching on his nipples. You were mesmerized by them.

"Since you like them so much, I'll keep them nice and big for you, okay?" Sunghood cool to you.

"O–Okay." You moaned as you held his pecs in your hands, kneading them roughly. The sensations were so intense you didn't even notice you'd already finished once, cum painting your stomach.

Sunghoon's thrusts got sloppier, losing their rhythm as his moans got shakier.

"I'm almost there, baby, hold on a little longer." He growled, hitting a few more times before his cum spilled into you. Which makes you cum again, painting yourself with more ropes of white. Sunghoon rode out his high, thrusting a few more times before pulling out. Cum spilling out of you, onto the bed.

Your body shook and convulsed every few seconds from the rush. You were a sticky mess, and Sunghoon took care of everything. He went into the bathroom and got you hot towels to clean you. And then he carried you to your bathroom so you could do your business. While you took care of yourself on the toilet, Sunghoon changed the sheets and waited for you to come out of the bathroom with new pajamas ready.

Sunghoon tucked you under the covers. "Goodnight, baby, I'll see you in the morning." He got under the covers with you to cuddle you.

You grabbed his arm. "You're not leaving? What about Jay?"

Sunghoon laughed. "He knows. I talked to him. He should be at Jungwon's house right now doing the same as us."

"Why would you tell him–Jungwon!? They're a thing!?"

"Since forever. And Jay's known for ages that I've liked you. After I talked to him about what happened, he chewed me out for being a pervert and jerking off in the house, but he gave me his blessing. So we don't need to worry about him~"

The two of you cuddled together for the night. You drifted to sleep to the sound of Sunghoon's heartbeat, plotting about your next morning...

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen scenarios

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devildomwriter · 22 days ago

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Mangled Up in Tangled Up Knots | Diavolo x Reader

1K+ words | GN! Reader | CW: none

Summary: Diavolo is good with trees but the lights are a bit beyond him

You were so focused on carefully unwrapping and unboxing the ornaments that you scarcely glanced at the Christmas movie playing.

Diavolo was paying a tad more attention than you as he began to put together the generations-old fake Christmas tree you brought.

You’d been dating a long time now so you finally moved some things into the prince’s room. A few of these things were your traditional Christmas decorations like the polar bear nightlight, Lego nutcracker, light-up llama with a festive scarf, and your old Christmas tree which surprisingly still had needles on it.

Diavolo used his strength to easily correct bent metal branches. They’d caved from the weight of cats and heavy ornaments over the years.

You frowned after finding a broken ornament and set it aside. Diavolo sensed your sadness and looked to see what you’d sat down.

He smiled and with a snap of his fingers, the ornament was in better shape than when you’d first been gifted it. Your eyes sparkled, happy you wouldn’t need to throw something so pretty away.

“Thank you, Dia!” You exclaimed and he smiled and nodded as he sorted the branches by size.

He held two different branches in his hands and looked back and forth between them.

“___?” He asked and you looked up from what you were doing.

“Yeah?”

“Which of these colors is bigger? The brown ones or the teal?”

“Uhh….I think it’s the red ones.”

Diavolo looked it over again and nodded, “Thanks, I believe you’re right.”

You grinned and nodded and began unwrapping more ornaments, setting them into groups based on importance as you weren’t sure you could fit them all on the tree this year.

Diavolo began hooking the tree branches in place and you got to your feet to help him as you enjoyed this part.

You helped keep the tree pole still as he placed the branches in one by one until you were in the way of the bigger bottom ones.

Diavolo stepped back hands on his hips and nodded approvingly at his work.

“I did it, ___! How’s this look?”

“It’s perfect! Now we just have to fluff out the branches.”

“…What?”

You showed him how you moved the tinier branches around so the tree looked fuller and he nodded and began fiddling with it, occasionally itching his arms irritated by the tiny fake pine needles.

“You itch too?”

He laughed and agreed and you both hurriedly fluffed out the tree. Now the metal was barely visible and the tree appeared much more real.

Once again, Diavolo stepped back and nodded proudly. You laughed at how cute it was. Diavolo regularly displayed his magical strength as well as his influence within the realms but he didn’t often have small personal achievements. Doing things all on his own was still a foreign concept he was adapting to, contrarily you were still adapting to having someone else do your chores, cook for you, do your laundry, clean everything. So when you’d show Diavolo how to do these mundane things he was always elated when he pulled it off. Setting up the Christmas tree was another achievement as he’d always had Barbatos do it in past years with excessively large trees.

This tree was perfect for the bedroom you often shared, neatly tucked in the corner without blocking the bathroom or TV, it has its own place to shine.

“Shoot. We still need to do the lights.” You remembered, snapping your fingers like a cartoon character.

Diavolo nodded and opened the box with the lights. He began pulling them out but they were all tangled in knots and he immediately looked to you for help.

You shrugged, “We just have to untangle them. You can use magic.”

“Do you use magic to untangle them?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t need to either.”

You chuckled at his innocent insistence and sat there watching him fiddle with the lights for a good ten minutes, his smile slowly becoming less genuine while doing so.

Finally, he miraculously untangled the lights and immediately asked what to do next.

You showed him how to wrap them around the tree, lightly tossing them onto the branches and spreading them out so there weren’t any gaps in the light. He nodded and plugged the lights in to get a better perspective.

You snuck a photo of your boyfriend holding the glowing lights, it was as cute as it was surprisingly beautiful.

Diavolo began circling the tree with the lights doing as you’d instructed and occasionally looking at the example on his D.D.D.

Without either of you noticing he stepped into a loop of the lights and pulled them with him as he circled the tree. You arched one brow as you realized he felt no resistance due to his strength and was blindly twisting himself up.

“Uh…Diavolo,” you began to speak up when Diavolo stood still and looked down at his legs.

“Oh dear…” he chuckled and quickly began trying to backtrack but he had to be extremely gentle so he wouldn’t break the card with his absurd strength. He looked around more confused as it proceeded to get worse. He threw the remaining lights over his shoulder so he could focus on his feet but now he appeared to have a net thrown over him.

You quickly took another photo and just as you put your D.D.D. away he gave you a childlike frown.

“___…I’m stuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. Diavolo protested to being laughed at and pleaded for your help. You quickly came to his aid, telling him to stand still as you unwrapped the lights.

Diavolo sighed in relief and now that he was out of that situation he blushed profusely as you tried to hide your snickers.

“…I think I’ll use magic…” he sighed in defeat and with a twirl of his finger the lights quickly and perfectly rounded the tree.

“That’s amazing, Dia,” you complimented and his embarrassment immediately was replaced by pride.

He hugged you into his side as you looked at the tree you’d put up together. It may have seemed small but in the grand scheme of things, this was the first time you’d put up the family Christmas tree with your future husband. It was a moment you wouldn’t forget, especially with the pictures you took of him.

#obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #25 days of obey me Christmas #obey me 25 days of Christmas #obey me diavolo x reader #omswd diavolo #omswd diavolo x reader #obey me fluff #obey me Drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me fan fic #obey me story #obey me short #obey me shall we date diavolo x reader #obey me shall we date diavolo

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jjtheresidentbaby · 6 months ago

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been having lots of babysitter! jonathan thoughts, so could you possibly do like cg!steve needs to go out for the day or has a long work day when little! reader is feeling really tiny and super fussy, so he has jonathan come over to babysit, maybe argyle is there too?

I just imagine he'd be really quiet and gentle with reader in babyspace and patient when they are nonverbal, just like sitting with them and giving them a bottle, and when they're feeling a bit better after being sad about steve being away so long, they have a dance party in the living room

(sorry if this is like way too long or if you dont write like babysitter stuff, theres absolutely no pressure!)

˚. ❝₊˚ last minute ❞ ˚₊·

» johnathan byers x reader

» a/n: omg this request is over a year old, I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to 😭 also sorry I couldn’t fit everything you asked for in, I had trouble figuring out how to write jon

» warnings: fussy reader, crying, pet names, bottle feeding

You cling your hands tighter onto Steve’s yellow sweater, face stuffed into his chest, a wet spot of tears under you that’s only growing larger as he tries to hand you off to Johnathan.

“I’ll be back tonight, I swear baby.” Steve assures for the millionth time, it does nothing to help you calm down. You’ve dropped younger than normal and while Steve hadn’t wanted to leave you, Robin already called out with the flu so Steve doesn’t have the option of staying home. It’s hell for him to see you so distraught.

“No!” You cry and Steve lets out a sad sigh. It’s been five full minutes of you, Steve, and Johnathan standing in the doorway of Steve’s house waiting for you to let go of Steve and for Johnathan to take over caring for you as he’s the only one around that’s able to watch you on such short notice.

“It’s okay little one, we’ll have fun while Steve’s gone.” Johnathan ducks his head to meet your eyes when you turn your head against Steve’s pec, only offering a sniffle in reply to Johnathan.

“See? Jon’s a good caregiver, you guys will have a great day. Now I- I gotta go-.” Steve starts to pull you off of his chest and instantly more tears start to streak down your face, hiccuping cries leaving your throat as Johnathan takes over holding you on his hip.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll be back.” A kiss gets pressed to your forehead before Steve’s bounding down the driveway to his car, probably already ten minutes late for work, which is the only reason you decide not to put up much of a fight when Johnathan takes you inside.

“I know we don’t know each other that well but I want to help you and for today to be a good day. Is there anything you want that I can do to help?” Johnathan speaks softly, it reminds you of how Joyce talks to littles, kind and caring in that signature Byers way.

“Bottle?” You ask shyly but Johnathan instantly nods and hefts you up to get a more comfortable hold on you before walking to the kitchen.

Nothing is said as Johnathan makes the bottle, you point to the cabinets everything’s in and then lean against him as he starts to hum a song under his breath. The rumble of his chest is grounding in a way and lets your tears turn to sniffles before ceasing all together- you still miss Steve and wish he didn’t have to go to work- but Johnathan isn’t so bad.

“Let- let me know if I’m tipping it too much.” Johnathan says with a nervous undertone to his words, you know he has nothing to be nervous about, you’ve seen him take care of Nancy plenty of times and he’s never done anything to raise concern.

You nod anyways and latch onto the bottle once he holds it out for you. He has one bent arm under your head as you sit on Steve’s couch and his eyes don’t leave your face, gently scanning your features for discomfort as you suck down the drink, slower than you’d usually drink it. You’re honestly exhausted from earlier and don’t have the energy to move with the speed and eagerness you normally have.

“All set? Do you wanna watch a movie?” It’s obvious you’re close to falling asleep but Johnathan flicks the Tv on despite it, shifting to get more comfortable on the couch as he suspects you’ll fall asleep in the position you’re in right now.

“You can nap if you wanna.” The assurance is all you need to close your eyes and curl into Johnathan more, hoping you’ll sleep long enough that your emotions won’t be so intense when you wake up and maybe you can enjoy having Johnathan here more.

#jj writes #stranger things agere #little!reader #caregiver!johnathan byers #babysitter!johnathan byers #johnathan byers x reader #johnathan byers

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https-hunter · 8 months ago

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I am lucky enough that Cinemark approached my college’s animation department with the offer to attend an advanced screening of the first 35 minutes of Inside Out 2.

I loved it.

The original Inside Out came out when I was eleven and I’ve adored it since, so this was a really cool opportunity as a longtime fan and current animator.

So here’s a description of what goes on in the first half hour & some of my thoughts.

Massive spoilers for Inside Out 2 below the cut!!

The movie starts out with Riley’s hockey game. Each one of the five main emotions takes a turn at the wheel during the game. Joy get Riley excited, Anger gives her the aggression she needs on the ice, Fear reminds her to put her mouth guard in, Disgust makes it realize that it’s not hers, and Sadness takes over when Riley is given a penalty.

During her time in the penalty box, the emotions reflect on what Riley has been up to lately. She turned 13, got braces, started growing, and has two best friends she plays hockey with, Grace and Bree. We see the personality islands and it’s noted that Friendship Island is majorly overshadowing Family Island. We’re also introduced to Riley’s sense of self, which is made up of affirmations she has for herself after different memories are added to it (i.e.: “I’m a good friend” “I’m a good person, etc.). It is comprised of different strings that say the affirmation when they are strung. Joy also reveals a machine she has that sends memories to the back of the head, which I guess is like repressed memories.

When she gets out of the penalty box, Riley, Grace, and Bree score a winning goal and are approached by the local high school’s hockey coach. She invites the three of them to hockey camp that weekend, to which they all immediately accept.

The night before camp, the emotions are all in bed. I need to add that Joy & Sadness share a bunk, Anger is by himself as he punches the air, and Disgust & Fear bunk together. Sadness & Joy hear an odd sound and they find the puberty button going off, no matter what they do to stop it. A construction crew comes in & basically makes a mess of headquarters.

The next day, Riley wakes up and she isn’t ready for hockey camp. When her mom asks why she isn’t packed, Anger responds, but Riley overreacts even though he barely touched the console. Sadness and Disgust try it, but Riley’s just having mood swings now and they find the console to be way more sensitive than it used to be. They decide to leave it alone unless they absolutely have to use it.

Cut to the car ride to hockey camp. Riley is telling Grace & Bree how excited she is to play hockey together in high school. Disgust instantly flags a look Bree gave her and Bree’s own Disgust flags Riley’s look back. Grace blurts out that she and Bree are going to different high schools and Riley tries to hold it together until she’s out of the car. The emotions literally have to hold Sadness back 😭

This is where the new emotions show up. We meet Anxiety (I tried to stay normal over hearing Maya Hawke), Envy (she’s voiced by Ayo Edebiri !!), Embarrassment, and Ennui (Joy nicknames him “wee-wee”). We also later meet Nostalgia, a sweet old lady emotion, but Anxiety tells her she’s ten years too early. Anxiety explains her role in things and there’s a joke about how Fear thinks he’s going to get along really well with her. The new emotions all take the wheel, especially when Riley is trying to introduce herself to Val, a cool hockey player at the high school she’ll be attending. Anxiety, out of fear for Riley’s social future, has Riley follow Val and she meets some other hockey players. They all think she’s from Michigan and not Minnesota, but she just rolls with it.

When the girls are all ready for practice in the locker room, Riley & her friends act really immature while the coach is trying to talk. Joy tries to make things better, but Riley laughs at a joke one of her friends made at the wrong time. Coach makes everyone skate lines (I think?) as punishment.

Riley overhears some of the high school players talking about her and how immature she is. When Val is alone, Anxiety makes a plan and Riley approaches her and apologizes for getting everyone punished. Val tells her that it’s okay and that the coach being hard on her means that she’s under her radar, and that it’s a good thing.

Val tells her that they might be on the same team when they split into groups. This causes a divide between Joy and Anxiety. Joy thinks that Riley should stay with her current friends, while Anxiety thinks she should stick with Val. Riley does end up choosing Val’s team and we get a confused look from Grace and Bree.

In Riley’s head, Anxiety carries out phase two of her plan. She tells the older emotions that they’re not needed anymore and literally bottles them up. They’re sent to the Vault, which is a, well, vault that holds Riley’s deepest secrets.

In here we meet Bloofy, a Dora the Explorer/Mickey Mouse Clubhouse-style cartoon character whose secret is that Riley still enjoys the show. We also meet Lance, a video game character Riley has a crush on, whose only defense move is rolling into a ball and moving forward. There’s also Riley’s deepest secret, but he doesn’t really talk. I just have to nerd out over the different animation styles here. Lance, while being 3D, is so pixelated and made to look like an anime-style video game character. Bloofy is fully 2D animated. You had all these animation students in the audience LOVING this scene.

Riley’s deepest secret breaks the jar the emotions are bottled up in. Bloofy uses what is clearly supposed to be the Mystery Mousekatool from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and they’re given three tool options: a tomato, something else I don’t remember, and dynamite. They use the dynamite and blow the door open. I need you guys to know that Lance cannot leave at first because he keeps walking into the wall. And then he just Riley’s secret decides to stay. The cops/guards in Riley’s mind catch them at first, but for reasons that I can’t really remember, they all end up incapacitated (handcuffs on their feet, slipped on coffee, etc.).

The emotions begin their journey to get back to headquarters and take Riley back from Anxiety’s plan.

I think the new emotions will be really good for Riley. I was not expecting Anxiety to become an antagonist, though! I love the new ways they’ve explained different parts of the mind, like the sense of self and repressed memories. The visuals are, of course, gorgeous and the story captures the sheer horror that is being 13.

I really love it so far. I’m beyond thrilled that I had this opportunity, and now I have an Inside Out 2 tote bag. I can’t wait to see the rest of it in June.

#inside out #inside out 2 #disney #pixar #disney pixar #inside out 2 spoilers

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matttgirlies · 8 months ago

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 11

Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.

Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.

One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.

Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”

“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.

“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”

I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.

Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.

Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.

“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.

Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”

“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”

Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.

There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.

James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”

James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”

What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”

Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.

“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.

Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”

Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”

From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.

I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”

Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”

Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.

Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”

That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.

Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.

Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.

I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.

But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.

I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.

Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.

Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.

I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.

“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”

It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.

I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.

During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.

I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?

I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.

That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.

On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.

Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”

“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”

I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.

I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.

On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.

Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.

Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”

And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.

As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - so cute🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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goldeneyedgirl · 25 days ago

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Ficmas Day 6: Divorced Jalice

Dog Update: Clementine is tick-free and has resumed being extremely dramatic <3

Hello lovelies. I had a change of heart today and thought I'd offer the people what they want: Divorced Jalice. We've got a few mixed scenes from throughout as I try and piece this together as an actual fic (most likely a series of shorter fics than a singular large one, but the process is ongoing.)

I hope you enjoy it (and yes, part 2 of the STL AU is coming ASAP ;))

(and because I made two banners and picked the silly one, here's the serious one as well.)

Thanksgiving comes like clockwork, and Jasper somehow manages to dodge most of the planning - he sends a message to the group chat that he’s bringing a fruit pie and rolls from a bakery close to his apartment, and Esme is happy. He knows there will be hell to pay when Rosalie gets a hold of him, but he’ll cheerfully pay that price.

Winter appears out of nowhere, and the temperature crashes. It’s a particularly cold start to winter, which he appreciates - there’s something about the holidays being snowy that makes them better. All his best holidays had snow.

He doesn’t see Alice as often; she doesn’t walk over to meet him at the park cafe as often, isn’t enthusiastic about any of the outdoor fairs and activities. Jasper’s mostly confused by her lackluster responses, because she used to love ice skating and tubing and holiday markets - she’d drag him out every weekend from November through to January.

Instead, they text. A few times they meet for food, but always indoors and Alice always catches an Uber, even from a couple of blocks over. But he doesn’t ask. She looks frailer in the cold weather, even underneath layer upon layer of clothing. He starts offering to bring lunch over because it’s so cold, and a couple of times she actually takes him up on that.

He asks her about her Thanksgiving plans and she just says that she doesn’t really celebrate it anymore.

“That was always a Cullen thing; my family was more about Black Friday shopping,” she says, nibbling at the noodles he brought her. “I’m more of a Christmas girl.”

That does put a dent in his plans, so he procrastinates until the week of to ask her to the Cullen’s for lunch. They wouldn’t mind, they’d be happy to see her.

‘Thank you for thinking of me, but no - I’m recovering from a cold and am very bad company right now. Say hi for me.’

Simple, to the point, but polite. Jasper’s more disappointed than he thought he’d be, because he never really expected her to accept.

The look of disappointment on Esme’s face when he walks in alone with his pie and rolls makes him feel both protective of Alice and very exposed.

Esme waits nearly ten minutes after he walks in to ask - “Alice had other plans?”

There are eight settings around the table, just like old times.

And there’s a thought that’s been nagging at him for weeks as he followed the group chat plans for the Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year season. That for all his family's requests for her presence, to speak with Alice and spend time with her again, none of them seem to be reaching out even though she'd shared her contact details with them.

“I didn’t know you’d invited her?” It’s a passive aggressive response, and childish as fuck, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, no, I just thought… I didn’t want to be pushy. I didn’t feel it was my place to reach out to her,” Esme said. Well, now he feels like an asshole.

“She’s recovering from a cold, I don’t think she’s doing anything today but resting.” It’s a flimsy peace offering but all Esme needs - the illusion that Alice can’t be here, rather than Alice didn’t want to be with them, is a distinct difference.

“Make sure you invite her for Christmas Day, okay?” Esme brandishes a mixing spoon at him before resuming cooking.

She’s supposed to meet Jasper at the park, and they’re going to a movie.

Alice’s surprised to find him playing basketball with Emmett - she’s not sure that she’s seen him do that since they started college - but she waves them on and takes a seat. She’s got a new client, and needs to get preliminary sketches done.

But she cannot help watching the game - both Emmett and Jasper were always athletic, but Jasper was entirely disinterested in team sports through high school and college. There’s also a sense of camaraderie and fun that she thought was long gone from Jasper. He’s happy and he’s playful and it’s wonderful to see. She always missed that part of him.

Jasper is laughing at something Emmett says, as he peels off his shirt and she’s glad she’s got her sunglasses on because she’s turning red. He’s gained muscle since she last saw him shirtless, and it’s a very good look for him.

So are the tattoos that wrap around his torso and down one arm. He’d always talked about getting one before, but then he’d joined the corporate world and dismissed the idea. She wishes she’d bullied him into it now, because it suits him way too much, and her mind is wandering back to before the divorce, before her heart trouble, before when they were happy, and mentally envisaging him with tattoos, and ugh, she’s in so much trouble now.

(Shit. What a time for her sex drive to return. It hadn’t been an option or an interest for so long, and now she’s here, picturing her ex husband hovering over her with that grin that always meant she was going to have a really good time, her fingers tracing the lines of ink on his torso as he gives her his very best and shit, shit, shit. They’ve had this talk. She’s doesn’t want to go back to that place. She can’t. The only thing that she’s ready and willing to give is her friendship. And no matter how good he looks, and how good she knows he is, it won’t change her mind.

Except…)

She’s already talked to her therapist extensively about Jasper. He wasn’t even the reason that she went to therapy - her doctor strongly recommended it because of absolutely everything that happened to her. She was supposed to be in therapy the entire time, for all the surgeries, as well as the support groups, but it had seemed stupid and pointless when she was on her own with no one else around to see the tears and the tantrums. She hadn’t wanted to spend the precious free time she had outside of the hospital talking about being in the hospital.

She’d put it off for six years. Now she’s forced to play catch up. And her therapist is… nice? If that’s the right word. The woman is no-nonsense, and her questions are always brutal - why resume a friendship with Jasper? Why immediately accept his apology that day they met up? Why fall back into old patterns? What does she want to change and what does she need to change? Does she think that’s a realistic expectation? What changes has she already made?

The doctor would give her that withering, exasperated look if she knew how Alice was staring at her ex-husband right now.

(The problem is that she’s spent so much time in hospitals and in surgery over the last few years that she knows a lot more about anatomy, and has an appreciation for how bodies fit together. Watching the shift and pull of Jasper’s muscles as he steals the ball from Emmett is not in any way helping her make good decisions, but it’s doing wonders for her imagination…)

“Ready to go?”

She looks up to find Jasper standing beside her in a clean shirt, and she fumbles trying to put her sketchbook and pencil back in her bag. “Sorry, daydreaming,” she murmurs, but Jasper stares at her for a moment before offering her his water bottle.

“You’re red, too long in the sun,” he says, frowning. “Don’t let me keep you waiting next time, okay?”

She nods, taking a sip out of the bottle, but Emmett’s behind him, giving her a narrow look and shit, if Emmett - who has always had an uncanny ability to pinpoint anything anyone wanted to keep a secret - figured out that she was having thoughts about Jasper, it would absolutely get back to Rose.

And Alice hadn’t really spoken to Rosalie yet. Or Bella. There had been a few dinners she’d been invited to - she’d attended less than half, but mostly because she didn’t have the energy to leave her apartment - and the conversation was polite and friendly. Rosalie would ask a few leading questions, but someone - either Jasper or Esme - usually neutralized the conversation.

She doesn’t have the energy to talk to Rose or Bella yet because she’s knows how it’s going to go - uncomfortable, mostly. She’s never had to establish boundaries with the expanded Cullen clan - Bella did, with varying success - and she’s not sure how to do it, beyond avoiding the conversation.

“I’m good,” she said, hoping she sounded better and she wasn’t as red. “I don’t mind waiting for you to finish your game.”

Fucking tattoos. Ugh.

—

Alice was exceptionally clear with her boundaries and expectations this time around - friends. Nothing else. He’d asked, and she’d said no.

And it wasn’t unexpected. It hasn’t been that long since they started spending time together. There’s clearly a lot that’s happened to Alice since she left, and she’s not ready to discuss that with him. They stick to a lot of safe subjects, things that don’t make her respond with an edge in her voice, or with simple conversation-ending responses.

(He’s got Rosalie in the background, half-demanding an explanation that he cannot give because he doesn’t know anything. She’s thinner and quieter, and he doesn’t really understand how she fills her days. There have been a couple of times that she’s alluded to being sick, but from what he remembers of her family history - depression and asthma mostly - there’s nothing that he can confidently say would cause this version of her. Then there’s Esme, desperately wanting to welcome Alice back into the fold, to the bi-weekly family dinners and the holiday lake trips and group vacations. Bella asks after her awkwardly but kindly, and it’s Edward who pointedly mentions that Bella would love to get coffee with Alice, but he doesn’t understand why Bella doesn’t just ask Alice.)

Peter says that he just needs to let Alice have her boundaries and her autonomy. Respect this version of her and don’t try to recreate the wife - or the dynamic - that he had in his twenties. And sure, that seems reasonable and kind of obvious.

Except she’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She’s still Alice, and he’s loved Alice since he was twelve years old. He wants it to be easy between them again, where she won’t tense up if he touches her, where he can hold her hand and hold her, and it’s something they both want.

He talked it over with Peter a few weeks ago. And Peter was definitely laughing at him.

“So you want tips on how to seduce your ex-wife?” Peter asked with a grin.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” He’d been annoyed at the time because it wasn’t… except it was.

“When was your last relationship?” Peter asked directly and it’s easy for him - whilst Charlotte dumped him for dealing and the blossoming addiction, she’d been willing to make things work when Peter started rehab and recovery, and was determined to make a change. She’d been there from the beginning, every single step. Peter never had to worry about balancing brand new relationships with being in recovery. But Peter had also never cheated on Charlotte or been such a dick to her as Jasper had been to Alice. There was a lot less baggage for them.

“Long term or…?” Jasper took a swig of his soda.

“Any.”

“Maria. Had a couple of dates after rehab but they weren’t…” He was bored and lonely, and it had been a mutual one-night thing. “That’s it.” There haven’t been any dinner or movie dates, anyone he had the motivation to build something with. He’s a hell of a lot more loyal to Alice now that they’re divorced than he was when they were married.

“Huh.” Peter looks surprised at that but shrugs. “That’ll score you some points.”

“You two are idiots.” Charlotte appears from the kitchen, her mangy old cat in her arms. “The only date you’re going to get Jasper is one with a restraining order.”

“I told him to respect her boundaries!” Peter looks insulted.

“The bar is in hell,” Charlotte drops into a chair. “Jasper, I’m going to say this as the partner of an addict who gave him a second chance: she owes you nothing. The best thing you can do is be the perfect respectful friend she’s asked you to be. No flirting, no jokes about 'dating', and absolutely no thinking that sex with you will convince her. Your dick is not magic.”

“Char,” Peter has a hand over his eyes and Jasper’s taking a long drink of soda to avoid having to say anything.

“I’m not finished. Don’t make work for her - emotional or physical. You said she quit drinking coffee-“

“How long were you eavesdropping!?”

“-the last hour, hush. Don’t bring her a coffee. Bring her whatever you saw her drinking. The emotional labor of declining the coffee and the physical labor of consuming or disposing of the coffee is just work for her. Pay attention to her, and the little things. You want her to be more transparent about what she’s been through? Own your shit. Be transparent. It’s about give and take.”

“Wait, Char, you’d know what the scar is.” Peter lunged forward, placing his hands on both of Charlotte’s knees, the cat fleeing at the sudden movement. “Jasper cannot figure out what the scar is, right down the middle of her chest.”

“She covers it up a lot, with clothing,” Jasper admitted.

“Have you asked her?” Charlotte asked flatly.

“No?”

“That feels like a great first step. ‘How did you get that scar?’ If she’s comfortable with you knowing, she’ll tell you. If she’s not, she won’t.”

“Char,” Peter whines, drawing out the last syllable of her name.

“Don’t whine. If Jasper wants a healthy relationship with Alice, he will communicate with her like an adult. Besides, a scar in that position could be a lot of different things - skin cancer, organ transplant, injury… There’s a lot of different reasons, and without seeing it, it’s just a wild stab in the dark.”

#ficmas24 #my fic: divorced jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #jumping around in the timeline #i really wanted to get the edward and alice scene nailed down but alas #i should put together a linear draft of all the scenes #to do list

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 24 days ago

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Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 17: The Gingerbread Castle

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1996

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

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Notes: This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

CS Genre: Neighbors AU

Killian Jones had been in love with Emma Swan since the moment she moved into the apartment across the hall three years ago. The day she’d moved in would stand out in his memory forever, like a pivotal moment in his life where everything suddenly stood still and came into focus.

It had been a snowy, bitterly cold day in early December. He’d been enjoying his morning cup of coffee while he read the newspaper when he heard a commotion out in the hallway. A commotion, and a string of language that would make a sailor blush.

Curious, Killian stepped outside to see a gorgeous blonde woman in a red leather, fleece-lined jacket struggling to drag a sofa down the hallway.

“You look as though you could use a hand, love,” he’d said, quickly moving to the opposite end of the couch and lifting it.

“What I could use,” she said through gritted teeth, “is for the idiot mover I hired to actually do his freaking job and bring my stuff into my apartment instead of dumping it at the building entrance and slinking away. Serves me right for picking a moving company called ‘Grumpy and Brothers’, I guess.”

Killian laughed as they maneuvered her couch through her doorway and then set it against the far wall under a set of windows. “Is that the company with the tagline ‘We whistle while we work’?”

Emma groaned, swiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Yep. That’s them. Anyway, next time you’re moving, pick a different moving company. Any different moving company. I guess I’m lucky I live on the ground floor, right? Can you imagine what a bitch it would have been dragging that thing up a flight of stairs?”

Killian groaned at the thought. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“I don’t want to put you out,” she said, hesitating. “It’s Saturday, after all. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Hadn’t a thing in the world to do today, save for finishing the decorating of my Christmas tree,” he assured. “I’d be happy to help my newest neighbor move in. My name is Killian Jones, by the way. I live in 109 across the hall.”

Emma shook the hand he extended to her, and just the touch of her hand against his sent a jolt of electricity through his system. Killian didn’t believe in love at first sight, but this meeting certainly had the feel of destiny. “Emma Swan,” she answered, “in 108, obviously.”

“Well, Swan,” he’d said, “I’m at your service.”

They’d spent the better part of the day together moving her in to her apartment, and Killian was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to her. It was as though they’d known each other all their lives. When the day came to an end, Emma had tried to pay him for his help, but he’d steadfastly refused any remuneration.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he’d insisted, quite sincerely. “I’ve enjoyed the company.”

They’d parted not long after that, and Killian went home buoyed by the hopes and dreams of years to come living less than ten feet from the woman who could very well be the woman of his dreams.

The next morning, Emma had knocked on his door around 10:00 am with a tin of Christmas cookies and the intention to return the favor.

“Since you spent your whole day helping me yesterday,” Emma said, “today I’m here to help you. It was your tree you were going to decorate yesterday, wasn’t it?”

It had been a pleasant, beautiful day spent decorating, watching Christmas movies and consuming an unconscionable amount of Christmas cookies.

They’d been fast friends ever since, rarely going a day without seeing each other. They’d been there for the good times…and the bad times.

Killian had known from the moment she introduced him that Neal Cassidy was not nearly good enough for her. Killian had supported her, trying to feign happiness for her when she told him she and Neal had started dating. When Neal cheated on her with a woman named Tamara six months later, Killian had been there for Emma, doing all in his power to help her heal her broken heart.

He’d longed to confess his feelings, longed to tell her he’d never treat her so badly, that he’d love and treasure her forever, but she wasn’t ready. She didn’t need a rebound. She needed a best friend, and so that’s what he was to her.

Aye, Killian had loved Emma since the day he met her, which was why when she showed up at his door at seven a.m. on the Saturday before Christmas looking agitated and asking for a favor, he’d agreed without hesitation, no questions asked.

“What’s troubling you, love?” He asked.

“I’ve got to make a gingerbread house,” she said. “It’s got to be from scratch, and it’s got to be the best gingerbread house to ever gingerbread.”

“That’s quite the tall order,” he said. “What precisely has brought on this culinary endeavor?”

She’d glanced aside then, and the pain on her face was unmistakable. Frowning, he turned her to him with a gentle hand to the side of her face. “Swan, what is it? You can tell me anything. You know that right?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up at him. “Storybrooke has this gingerbread house competition every year,” she said.

Killian nodded, remembering the day she’d told him about her hometown of Storybrooke and some of its quirkier traditions. “Aye, I recall you mentioning. I was under the impression you thought the contest was rather silly.”

“Well, yeah, it is,” she said, beginning to pace, “but…but this year Neal entered. Neal and his brand new fiancee, Tamara.”

Killian took a deep breath and slowly blew it out, feeling sympathy for her. “And you wish to challenge him.”

“Yeah,” she said in a small voice. “It’s just…I’ve wasted way too many tears on that son of a bitch. I just want to show him that I’m not, you know, pining after him or anything. He did me a favor showing me who he really is before things got too serious.”

“I quite agree,” Killian said with a decisive nod, “although I do wish you’d allowed me to put my fist through that bastard’s face after he cheated on you.”

She’d smiled at that. “Trust me, I was tempted,” she said, “but if I’d decided to take the high road and not punch him, I certainly wasn’t going to let my best friend risk an assault charge just to, I don’t know, defend my honor.”

“Still,” Killian said, “the offer stands. Give me the word, and I will gladly beat the fool to a bloody pulp.”

She’d stood on tiptoes then and kissed his cheek. He’d closed his eyes, savoring the gesture, wishing he could turn his head and turn the friendly gesture into a true kiss. Instead, he patted her shoulder. “At any rate, I am at your disposal, love. How can I help you win this contest.”

“Well, my first problem,” she said dryly, “is that I don’t have the first idea how to make gingerbread. My second problem is that I don’t have the slightest idea how to construct a house, so obviously I came to the best architect I know.”

Killian grinned. “I’m fairly certain I’m the only architect you know, love.”

“Still,” she said, “I’m pretty sure you’re the best out there.”

He felt his chest swell with pride at her compliment. It was always like this with her. She had always believed in him, and when she gave him her support, it made him feel invincible. “Swan, I promise you this. I will help you win this contest or I will perish in the attempt.”

She’d given him a stern look then. “Oh no you don’t. You aren’t allowed to ‘perish’, like ever. I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Killian.”

His smile turned tender, and he’d cupped her face, caressing her face with his thumb before he could rethink the gesture. “You’ll never have need to find out. Now, I propose we go all out. Why stop with a gingerbread house when we can build an entire gingerbread castle?”

It had taken them three days, but when Emma put the final gumdrop “rock” on the lowered drawbridge and they surveyed their completed work for the first time, Killian had to admit they’d done a damn good job. The castle was two feet tall with magnificent crenelated turrets on all four corners of the keep. It was surrounded by a curtain wall, and contained an inner bailey with two knights practicing their swordsmanship. (Killian had wanted to rig up a motor of some kind to make the two figures, made out of modelling chocolate, actually move, but Emma had insisted it was overkill).

It was magnificent if he did say so himself.

“Killian,” Emma said, stepping back, “I wanted to thank you for this, all of this. Not just helping me design and make the castle, but, you know, being there for me through everything.”

The lights of his Christmas tree flickered over her face, as he looked over at her, feeling like his heart would burst. “Neal Cassidy is a bloody fool, Emma,” he murmured, stepping up to her, and cupping her face in both hands. “Any man who would fail to see what an extraordinary woman you are doesn’t deserve you.”

She was silent for a long moment, looking intently at him, as though looking for a lie. After a moment, a single tear fell from her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. “I think maybe I was the fool, Killian, to ever fall for him in the first place when…”

“When what?” he prompted.

“When I had the real deal, Mr. Right himself living right across the hall,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Killian felt his heart turn over at her admission. Was…was it possible that he’d been mistaken? Was it possible his feelings weren’t unrequited after all?

As though to answer his unasked question, Emma took the final step toward him, brought his head down to hers and kissed him as though her life depended on it.

The kiss went on and on. One kiss melting into two and three, and then they were engaged in a full blown make-out session on his couch.

“Will you come home with me this year?” she asked in a breathless voice when they finally came up for air.

“Of course,” he said, running a hand through her hair. “I have to witness our moment of triumph when our gingerbread castle wins the grand prize, after all.”

She grinned up at him. “That the only reason you said yes?”

He turned serious. “Swan, you know it’s not.”

“Good,” she said, “because I was kind of hoping I could introduce you to my parents as my boyfriend.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, couldn’t help it. That first kiss seemed to have opened the floodgates, and he suspected he’d never be able to get enough of this woman. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “Nothing in this world would please me more than to go home with you as your boyfriend.”

They did, of course, win the grand prize in the gingerbread house contest. Killian suspected he would have found great joy in the disappointment and frustration and outright jealousy on Neal Cassidy’s face, but as it happened, he didn’t even see it.

He had eyes only for the woman who he hoped would be his present, his future and his everything.

Perhaps he ought to send Grumpy and Brothers a thank you. Turns out, their incompetence was the best thing that ever happened to him.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#cs fanfiction #cs christmas reruns 2024 #my fanfiction #the gingerbread castle

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pastelwitchling · 1 year ago

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maybe Alex night out with Kyle and Michael waiting for him at home

***

Michael checked his watch. This was getting ridiculous.

So Alex had gone out for the night. So it was with Kyle. So they were having a cozy little get together, all alone, having beers and getting drunk and losing all inhibitions—

Michael sat down on the couch of his living room and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. This was getting so ridiculous. After he and Alex had gotten married, Michael was the one who’d insisted that he keep his beer chats with Kyle. Alex had been tired and overworked, and Michael – though he loathed to admit it – hadn’t been around Alex for the past several years the way Kyle had. He hadn’t known the depth of Alex’s exhaustion the way only Kyle did, and forcing him to relive every moment of it for context’s sake wasn’t something Michael was eager to put him through, at least not all at once. Kyle became the one person he could really talk to, and Alex was the one person who offered that reprieve to Kyle too, even as he dated Isobel; a literal mind reader.

No one, Michael had been willing to admit one night when he’d arrived late to find Alex curled up on the couch, waiting for him with dark circles of exhaustion and misery under his eyes, could really replace the other for them. So Michael, in a desperate attempt to cheer Alex up and help him breathe, had all but demanded that Alex see Kyle the way he used to. Regular nights out with his best friend, just what he needed.

Except now, there was no miserable Alex for incentive, and Michael’s resolve had weakened once again to grumblings and sulking. Wasn’t he supposed to be Alex’s best friend? What did Kyle know about him anyway that Michael didn’t already know? How close were the two anyway? Had something happened between them in the time Alex and Michael had been apart? What if this time together rekindled some old flame?

Michael stood back up, resumed his pacing as some romcom that he’d turned on for the sake of distraction played in the background. Hugh Grant’s confessions of love were not helping Michael’s stray thoughts.

He loved Alex more than anything, but Alex was irresistible.

That was an objective fact.

Anyone would be bound to fall in love with him. Even Isobel ogled him whenever she got the chance.

Michael froze. What if Kyle confessed his feelings, as he was bound to, and Isobel roped him into a poly hookup or something? No, no, Michael scoffed at his own absurd paranoia as he resumed pacing. As if Alex would ever get involved in something like that. No, Michael just really had to get a hold on himself now.

It was only nine thirty, and Alex had said he’d be back by ten. He had another half hour of anxious pacing before he had any real cause to lose his mind. Michael sat down to watch the movie, trying to calm down, and stood up almost immediately at the sound of the lock turning.

He blinked as Alex walked in, still shivering at the night air. He was busy toeing off his boots and hanging his keys and coat on the hook to notice Michael watching him from the end of the hallway, when he called, “Michael?”

“Right here,” Michael said, and climbed off the couch without taking his eyes off Alex. “What happened?”

Alex tilted his head, smiling. His complexion already looked better, his eyes shining brighter at the sight of Michael. “What do you mean?”

“You’re back early,” he said, looking Alex over. Marriage had made him a worried lover, and he was fine with that. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckled, and pecked Michael’s lips. “I just missed you. We still have any chicken left?”

“In the fridge,” Michael murmured. A smile tugged at his lips, and before he could stop it, it widened to something giddy, the knot of tension in the pit of stomach loosened to nothing. He sat down at the kitchen island as Alex pulled the roasted chicken out of the fridge. “So you missed me, huh?”

“Duh,” Alex said, like Michael should’ve known that the second they were apart, he would be all Alex thought of. The idea made a giggle burst through Michael’s lips. “You okay?”

“Uh,” Michael scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, guess I just missed you too. Did you and Valenti have a good talk?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged a shoulder, “it was nice catching up.” As he heated up the chicken in the microwave, he pulled out two plates, already assuming he and Michael would be having a late dinner together. “What about you? You weren’t just waiting up for me, were you?”

Alex asked like he was joking, like he hadn’t actually thought Michael had been waiting for him. He genuinely had just wanted to see Michael, so he’d left early. Michael’s heart warmed and his smile turned too smug and happy as he rested his chin on his palm, watching his husband, back in their home, safe and sound and rested.

“Now that really doesn’t sound like me.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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pearlsofthec · 1 year ago

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While not as celebratory as October (MY B-DAY MONTH!) and not yet as festive as December, November is a month that’s always full of promises to me. It’s the month when I usually swear to myself I'll get everything done, so I can try to relax when it's Christmas time. While my productivity levels aren't as consistent as I'd like them to be, my will to be productive certainly is. I'm definitely a list kind of girl, loving making them just as much as I enjoy reading them in magazines and on archive blogs from the 2010s (classygirlswearpearls and rookie magazine, I’m looking at you guys). So what better way to start the month and try to get myself together than by writing a big ole' list? My November Guideline:

To be inspired

On TV: Spencer Hastings, Blair Waldorf, Tanner Hall

I may have only watched a season and a half of Pretty Little Liars, but that absolutely doesn't stop me from loving and pinning essentially every single outfit ever worn by Spencer Hastings on television, EVER. I love the way it's simultaneously classic and dated. I've never been one to fear a dated style or outfits that might one day make me sigh and go, "Oh my God, that was so ten years ago for me." I guess that's my way of contributing to history and experimenting with the millions of inspirations I'm constantly bombarded with via social media. I specifically love this aspect of her style, how she wears what she wants, what she loves, but always communicates a deep appreciation for a more traditional way of dressing.

A lot of the same things can be said about Blair. Again, a character from a TV series I haven't watched all the way through (I can't make it past the first few episodes of season 3, sorry!), who was a pillar of preppiness back in the day, and is still wildly beloved, despite having committed a few fashion faux pas in my opinion. The craziness of it all and even the grandma-ness of it all actually fascinate me about Blair's wardrobe. How she constantly projects a vision of who she needs to be. Spencer does the same, obviously, but with Blair, it's almost like she viewed every day of her life, every problem she needed to face, as a new plotline of an old movie that needed to unravel. For each plotline, she reacted as a different heroine would, and each heroine, naturally, expressed herself differently through fashion. I just love these characters she creates for herself, and I feel like I often have the same instinct to curate an outfit like that when getting ready.

Tanner Hall, directed by Diane von Fürstenberg's daughter, Tatiana, is in the same aesthetic line as the previous mentions. The movie is set in a quintessential New England boarding school, where beiges, browns, and muted greens seem to be the only existent colors. The whole wardrobe is gorgeous, designed by DVF, and the holy grail for all those who are obsessed with an old-time preppiness. While the movie's plot may be flawed, its attempt to portray the delicious whimsy and melancholy of a girlhood that tries to expand inside the claustrophobic gates of the school is genuine and comes from what, to me, is a mixture of personal history and folklorized memories. I really like the softness of it all; you can almost smell the crisp apple scent through the screen.

On the web: 2010s Emma Watson, Silly Lettuce, Eva Meloche

I can't really explain my current fixation on Emma Watson, but I have the feeling it has something to do with the fact I've been looping her Burberry campaigns practically every day. The songs are so reminiscent of a carefree city life, going on long taxi drives in the rain and putting your hands over the steam of your coffee on a cold day in the park with your friend, wet fall leaves on the cement sidewalk. I used to admire Emma Watson a lot when I was younger, and it's nice to rediscover this fondness for her. And let's be honest, she is definitely one of the founders of the gamine community; all I have, I owe to her!

Now, my current admiration for @silly_lettuce on Instagram is totally aesthetic, and I'm not afraid to say it. Gorgeous girl, gorgeous outfits, what's not to love. I could go on and on about her style in general, the silhouettes she wears, the boots, the knee-high socks, but instead, I'll just urge you to check out her page! So timeless, yet so young, fun, fresh, and COOL!!!!

Eva Meloche is a YouTuber I've been watching for as long as I can remember, and not only do I adore the calm energy all of her videos exude, but I also really love her travel stories and spot recommendations in general, which always come in handy. Oh, and, of course, she has impeccable taste. Even though her style is different from mine, I guess I use her content as a way to explore.

To wear

I think it's totally healthy to have an everlasting lust for new clothes and new products. Maybe it's because the holiday energy is already lingering in the air, or maybe it's because I'm fresh out of a father and daughter trip to Paris, but recently, I've been loving to revisit my old favorites. And by old, I mean back-when-I-was-twelve old, which includes:

Red Valentino patterned A-line dresses

Ok, I know they may be a bit too young, but if you get it, you get it, I guess. With some ballerinas or Mary Jane pumps, a cute overcoat, and a nice pair of sunglasses, you'll look positively '60s. Honestly, any A-line dress works, but RED V makes me remember my trips with my grandparents and going shopping with them.

The Cardi-blazer

So basic, I know, but I cannot stop thinking about the Ba&Sh Gaspard cardigan and Guspard blazer. I just love how it elevates a basic outfit. With a pair of jeans and a trench coat over it, it has infinite potential. I can definitely see myself wearing it to a lunch with friends, for some afternoon shopping, or just for a coffee run. I love the Ba&Sh cardi-blazers, specifically because of how cool they look without ever being an "in-your-face" type of item. The buttons are nice and discreet, and the style is put together but not excessively frumpy.

Flap Brogue

Maybe it's the Miu Miu enthusiast in me, but ever since they released the new collection of shoes with Church's (my dad's fave), I've been loving all outfits that include a pair of brogues. I already had a pair of light brown oxfords (which are my one true love), but I really wanted something in black and thought that a pair of flap brogues would be a nice addition. They're perfect to wear with sheer hosiery, a mini jean skirt, and a cozy black sweater to tie it all together.

Statement sweater

Talking about sweaters... I just have so many cool statement ones living in my brain recently; it's a bit concerning. What's better than wearing a huge sweater that screams "look at me" when going out with friends or having a nice dinner party? I've been specifically lusting over two models: the Kritzia glittery, oversized turtlenecks with animal motifs and the Zadig and Voltaire Alma "rock and roll" red one.

Statement everyday shoes

It's so 2016 to talk about Golden Gooses, but... I just love them. I happened to buy them after quite a bit of time resisting after I found myself with soaked ballerinas after a violent rainstorm, soon-to-be late to my lunch reservation. The Golden Goose store was my knight in shining armor, literally, offering me shelter and shoes. And maybe it was the desperation, maybe it was the pink sparkly star, but all I know was that I left that store in a glittery haze, enamored by the sneakers I'd just impulsively bought. No regrets!

To Discover

Maison millais (The Eloise perfume specifically… i need it)

Armocromia

Isak Zenou

Brai (pyjamas)

Louvini

Sekiguchi dolls

#blog #monthly guidelines #november

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blacktobackmesa · 2 years ago

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If everyone got to escape the computer for one (1) day, what would everyone want to do with their time? Together, or individual?

Optional if you put Gordon in the game or keep him irl lol

I feel like that's a conversation that they would have together. Something hypothetical that comes up when they're just hanging out, you know? Maybe on a rainy day, where Gordon's not feeling up to any games, and they're all just chilling together in voice chat.

___

"I think... I would want to have lunch."

Bubby snorted. "Lunch."

"Hey, it's achievable!" Gordon defended Tommy's choice. "I like it better than Benrey's plan to test if he can clip through my walls. But, uh. You do have lunch in there."

"But it's not your lunch," Tommy returned. "I don't have food from your-- from where you are! I want to see if it tastes different."

Gordon's eyebrows raised. "Huh. I never really thought about that."

"Now that's a fine idea!" Coomer lit up. "Gordon, isn't there a soda museum one state over from here? I think we could all make fine use of that, comparing flavors."

Tommy shook his head. "The World of Coca-Cola museum in Las Vegas was only open for a few years. We'd have to go all the way to... to the Atlanta one if we wanted to see the tasting room."

"Not that the trip from New Mexico to Nevada is a quick little jaunt," Gordon added. "If we only had a day to spend together, I'd hate to spend ten hours in the car."

Bubby huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine. I guess we'd have to rob a casino somewhere in this state instead."

"Oh, Atlanta's where they got the puppet museum, right?" Benrey joined in. "That's cool."

"If you want-- actually, y'know what? Air travel would be a new experience for at least a couple of you. We could take a plane to the east coast."

Bubby pointed to Coomer. "Good luck getting this one through the TSA. Metal detectors fear him."

The bionic boxer puffed up with pride, pleased with this description. "Now Gordon, I think there would be no better way to spend our time together than fistfighting airport security."

"Alright. So on our list, we've got: rob a casino, spend all of Gordon's money on cross-country plane tickets, get Gordon on the no-fly list, and potentially lose my security deposit," Gordon gave a dry review. "Anyone have any ideas that don't involve the neat getaway plan of going back into the computer? Because some of us don't have that option."

There was a moment of quiet thought.

"You know that scene with the mall from the movie with the sunglasses brothers? I think Bubby should--"

"Benrey, that is the opposite of what we should do."

"Come onnnn, it's not like anyone goes to malls anymore."

"...I've got something."

Darnold's voice was quiet, but it caught the attention of the group.

"Yeah?" Bubby prompted. "Alright, what've you got?"

"There's, um." Darnold hesitated. "I've looked into this before, actually. I've looked up the coordinates of the Black Mesa research facility... well, where it would have been, if it was real. Gordon, did you know it's only about an hour's drive away?"

Gordon blinked. "I did not. Figured it would be deeper into the desert."

"What's there now?" Tommy asked. "Is it, um, an old government site? For missile testing?"

"I bet it's a quirky and mysterious ghost town!" Coomer contributed. "Full of intrigue and quirky locals!"

Darnold shrugged. "Actually, it's... nothing. Not nothing nothing, Doctor Coomer. Just a lot of, y'know. Dirt. Plants. Bad cell service. And a nice view of the mountains."

There was no right way to respond to that information, really. Darnold seemed increasingly uncomfortable as their friends and companions couldn't find a reply.

After a minute, Tommy spoke.

"That sounds really nice," he said.

"Thanks."

"I know that's... I mean, I'm the one who said I wanted to eat lunch, but..."

"No, I agree," Coomer nodded. "I think I'd like that very much, Darnold."

"I wanna see it too," Benrey agreed. "S'like, closure or something. Bubby?"

The older scientist seemed to be lost in his own head. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm not sure."

"...There's also a nicely reviewed winery on the way," Darnold added coyly. "I wouldn't mind checking that out, either."

Bubby gave a light smile. "Well, I wouldn't mind that. If Gordon didn't mind the gas money and all."

"Wouldn't mind a bit."

Might go a bit like that, I think! Oh and when they got back from standing in the desert and sampling wine, Gordon would take them to the coolest damn art installation in Santa Fe. They'd all love it.

#gordon streamman #haha get minific'd idiot #...youre not an idiot thank you for planting this idea #i visited new mexico a total of one times and now i act like an expert on the place #i'm not. but that's one more times than many hlvrai fans so!#i have been to the puppet museum and world of coke in atl tho.#they have an italian soda there that tastes like a nintendo switch cart #hlvrai #why not main tag #my works

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rigaudon · 1 year ago

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This was just gonna be another comparison but then I pulled out my binder and ended up with an illustrated essay.

So while the new cards are PRETTIER, at the same time, the quality on the new cards can't compare to the old ones. Ceruledge is super shiny, but the cardstock is VISIBLY thinner than Gengar's (and the fancy pants full art foils are even thinner), and the ink is so much DENSER on the old cards. The difference in ink saturation is most obvious when you compare the cardbacks

The old card is on the right in the first picture. Basic bitch 1999 nonfoil Dragonair feels 20× nicer to hold than 2023 glitterbomb hyperfoil. 💀💀💀

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk, but while I have you here... let me give you a glimpse into the mind of me as a child. You might be wondering why the edges of all my old cards are so fucked up, it's because 1: they've been crammed in here for 24 years (holy shit, I'm old).

Which shouldn't be a big deal except for 2: As a Real Pokemon Trainer, my binder is in pokedex order and every variant I have of the same pokemon lives IN THE SAME SLEEVE TOGETHER (top card dictated by how shiny and/or how much 10-year-old-me liked the art), none of that side by side entire sheet of 9 squirtles bullshit. I stacked the squirtles.

(Yes, you are correct in the assumption that this means I was, 3: constantly taking them out of the sleeves and keeping 10+ cards in the same card holder, especially if I had a lot of cards of the pokemon on both sides of the page. I had to replace the sheets in the whole binder at least 2-3 times because I'd stick so many cards in them that the sides would rip and drop $500 in cardboard all over the pavement). I mostly fixed that when I stopped keeping dupes of the same art in there too.

But Raie, you say. Surely, this doesn't include foils and rare cards, right? Great question! Glad you asked!!

Say hello to single-sleeve Vileplume family!

Will I continue this tradition as an adult that should know better? Yes, absolutely.

What number am i on? 4? A few of them most definitely went through the washing machine at some point. Idk when i got a new one, but I got my original Pidgeot from a friend who'd left it in the pocket of her jeans and 80% of the card was fuzzy.

(Please don't ask why this mangled common Pikachu is the one I decided to display on top. Adult me doesn't know. Maybe mangled, stained, washing machine Pikachu was my first Pikachu and thus had sentimental value over literally any of the 30 other copies I had of that same Pikachu.) Now that I think about it I probably just put the FIRST copy i got in the binder for emotional attachment reasons, idk.

Speaking of sentimental value: I keep my ticket stub from the first pokemon movie between my Mews.

And i was going to end on that note until I saw this INSANE THING LOOK AT THIS. THIS. FISH. THIS FLAT, COMMON, BASIC FISH POKEMON IS OBJECTIVELY BETTER THAN FUCKING CHARIZARD.

Something something 20 year old card game something something power creep

I CAN ONLY INCLUDE TEN PICTURES ON THE APP SO GIVE ME A MINUTE BUT I HAVE TO PREFACE THIS NEXT REVELATION WITH: MEWTWO HAS 60 HP

#pokemon tcg #i guess #where am i who am i what year is it

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r1-jw-lover · 11 months ago

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HULLO!!!!! :P

rank your top five fav ships from the john wick series !! :3

Hi, thank you for the ask. Just wanna put a disclaimer that my first venture into the JW fandom was through the fourth film, so my ranking list will be heavily biased on that movie.

John x Caine

It's not even one year since JW4 is out and John/Caine is already on the top ten most written ships on AO3 within the John Wick fandom.

This pairing has just the right amount of bittersweetness and melancholy for me, and putting it on top of the actors' chemistry, the gay divorced vibes, the bickering, friends to reluctant enemies, the parallels, being each other's mirror, their deep trust, understanding and care for one another, you get my number one JW ship on this list.

The friendship between John & Caine is definitely one of the most developed and convincing out of all the friends John Wick had in the series, and in spite of the circumstances forcing them to be pitted against each other, they still managed to find comfort in the other's presence regardless, and I think that in itself is beautiful.

2. Koji x John x Caine

You know what else is better than putting Keanu Reeves and Donnie Yen together in the same movie? Putting Keanu Reeves, Donnie Yen AND Hiroyuki Sanada together in the same movie.

You have already seen the incredible fanart [1, 2, 3] by the wonderful @ibahibut. They are THE old men yaoi of the recent decade of cinema, period.

The dynamics between the three of them are immaculate. Not only you have John & Caine (explanation above), John & Koji are very supportive of each other, and Koji & Caine have both the closeness and the inevitable tragicness that undercurrents their brotherhood.

All in all, I desperately need a prequel series of this trio.

3. John x Helen

It's the only canon romantic relationship in the series so it has to be on the list. Other than the fact that one of them is dead, I think that John/Helen is incredibly sweet, which make the heartaches even more painful.

John's grief for Helen's passing is one of the main driving forces for the character throughout the series. His almost religious love and devotion to his wife is all the more apparent given that Helen is the reason John had fought to stay alive for as long as four movies.

At the end of the day, John only wished to die not as the Baba Yaga but as a loving husband, finally succumbing to his wounds with Helen being his last thought before dying. (TAT)

4. Akira x Mia

Gosh, I love my lesbian rarepair too much. I initially shipped them merely for the shits and giggles (i.e. Akira getting back at Caine by dating his daughter lol), but then I also come to realise their potential as a pairing story-wise.

Outside of the obvious enemies to/and lovers vibes, I could imagine both Akira and Mia inheriting a lot of angst from their respective "father problems" that they must resolve between each other. Will Akira ever tell Mia about her plan to kill Caine? Will Mia ever understand Akira's revenge against her father? Will Mia decide to step into the fold of assassins because of Akira? Will Akira leave the High Table to be with Mia like how John did for Helen?

As a conclusion... Gosh, I love my lesbian rarepair too much.

5. Marquis x Wuxia DJ

The funniest and best crack ship ever made up in the John Wick fandom, and there's just the two of us, hahahaha. They give off high-school exes who are so, so fashionable and serve cunt while talking shit about the other behind each other's backs.

It's number five on my list because it's that good.

Honorable mention: Cassian x Gianna

Before the fourth movie is released, Cassian & Gianna is the only pairing I could see happening in the background. Cassian's loyalty to Gianna even after she died is very touching, and Gianna seemed very appreciative of it from the short interaction they have in JW2.

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cartwrightxnathan · 3 months ago

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NATHAN CARTWRIGHT ; 40 ; TRAUMA SURGEON AT AURORA BAY HOSPITAL.

[CIS-MALE & HE/HIM PRONOUNS] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [NATHAN CARTWRIGHT]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [MICHIEL HUISMAN]. You must be the [FORTY] year old [DOCTOR AT AURORA BAY HOSPITAL]. Word is you’re [LOYAL] but can also be a bit [RESERVED] and your favorite song is [DEVIL YOU KNOW BY TYLER BRADEN]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

NATHAN’S BACKSTORY;

On a hot summer day in June, Olivia and Nicholas brought Nathan Cartwright into the world. Crying loudly for all ears to hear, they both knew he was going to be one hell of a man. Arriving home, he was welcomed by aunts, uncles, grandparents; you name it. He was loved and supported by his family, and after 40 years of living, that still hasn’t changed. Growing up in Aurora Bay, California, he was known as the “golden boy” starting from a young age. He did everything his parents asked him to and he followed their rules like no one’s business. He lived a big city lifestyle but made sure he didn’t seem like the too perfect gentleman. He was kind, and also a man not to be reckoned with. When his younger sister was born, he made sure that no one would hurt her. In no time, they became so close that he became overprotective. When she was talking to boys on the playground, she had to be in his sights so he could run into any dumb boy that looked her way. In his high school years, Nathan had everything - a sweetheart on his arm, a football in his locker, and a crown on his head. Yes, he was the football team’s quarterback and was popular, but he wasn’t like any jock seen in the movies. He did lots of volunteer work, was friends with everyone, and was an honor student. Graduating with straight A’s, he was awarded lots of hugs and kisses from his momma. He was well off but not ready for the life that was approaching him. Attending John Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland, he got his bachelor’s in medicine. After graduating from medical school, he moved back to Aurora Bay and did his residency at Aurora Bay Hospital. What no one expected was for him to commission into the military and become a medical officer. After a long, tiring conversation with his loved ones, Nathan decided to join the military. His reasons for doing this was the love for his family, his country, and the people in it. From serving at homeless shelters during his younger years, he now served for his country. Performing better than expected, he found his calling in trauma surgery and met his best friend during the process. They ate food, talked to each other’s families, trained, and laughed together. It was all laughs and jokes until things took a turn for the worst in December of 2023. Being deployed in Iraq, it didn’t take long until the soldiers walked into a small village. A fellow soldier hit by friendly fire, a war took place against ISIL, and in the end, the perfect, handsome doctor was badly injured by an explosion. Waking up in a hospital bed at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, Nathan instantly felt surging pain. Looking down at his body, he was missing half of his right leg. Everything below his right knee was gone. Remembering the explosion like it was yesterday, tears formed in his eyes. He rarely cried, but when he did, it was serious. He had a leg and a half and couldn’t stand on it. During the last year, his amputation put him through severe physical therapy and counseling due to depression, severe PTSD, grief, and adjustment to his new body image. When he started to re-learn and strengthen his abilities to do daily activities in a full-time prosthetic, things began to look up for the doctor. Needing to get back into the medical field with a ten-blade in his hand, he grabbed the phone and called the local hospital back home. Quickly finding an open slot as a trauma surgeon, he was fast to pack his bags and move back home. Soon enough, he found his footing again in Aurora Bay and was taking one step at a time.

CHARACTER TRAITS;

( + ) Humble, loyal, respectful. ( - ) Insecure, quiet, reserved.

#| biography. |#aurorabay.intro #aurorabay.aesthetic

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