#DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA. ANY IDEA HOW OFTEN I THINK ABOUT IT
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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k
cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping.
I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered.
You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely.
When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap.
You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in.
It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them.
Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him.
You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you.
Your phone rings a moment later.
You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too.
“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“How come?” You sit up with a little start.
“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further.
“Are you okay?”
“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.”
“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man.
“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?”
“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.”
“And you want me to fix that?”
“You always fix my neck.”
“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that.
“I have bad posture.”
“You have perfect posture.”
“No, it’s quite bad.”
He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.”
He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.”
“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.”
“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.”
“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.”
“What did I lose?”
You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.
“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.”
“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.”
“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.”
“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says.
“Or I could make us both some?”
“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”
You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected.
Cruel overpass, you think.
Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek.
The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later.
You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back.
Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—
A sudden chill.
The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard.
Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain.
You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor.
All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth.
A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.
Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath.
He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something.
Your phone rings on the counter.
“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.
You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins.
—
There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.
What will he make of my handiwork?
You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.
The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.”
“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.”
“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot.
“Honey?” a voice asks.
“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays.
Honey, are you in here?
—
The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder.
Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off.
Jack squirms closer, no room left between them.
“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says.
Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead.
“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.”
Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.”
“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.”
Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile.
“I look tired,” he says.
“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it.
“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.”
Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile.
“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.”
Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.”
“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?”
Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.”
“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.”
Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea.
Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you.
“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?”
“You said I can give her a hug.”
“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.”
“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says.
Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.”
Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs.
“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”
“Yeah.”
Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room.
You’re sleeping.
Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing.
He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze.
The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown.
Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic.
“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly.
Jack stays sitting.
He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt.
You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown.
“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says.
“When can she come home?”
“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you.
“Why is she sleeping all day?”
Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.”
“Should we go?”
Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.”
“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.
“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees.
If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give.
You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap.
Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly.
“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession.
“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat.
He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face.
You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms.
“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open.
Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again.
Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk.
The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”
“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.”
A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?”
“Excuse me?”
Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need.
He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively.
Aaron lets out a breath.
“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.”
“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.
His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some.
Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone.
“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.”
“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.”
“I know.”
“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.”
“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.”
A tear rolls down your cheek.
“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.”
“Is that what you want? You want a hug?”
“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder.
You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper.
Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down.
Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying.
“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently.
“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears.
“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic.
“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow.
He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow.
Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand.
—
Is she breathing? Can she talk?
I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from.
Where’s the worst of the blood?
It’s everywhere.
Abdominal? Chest?
I can’t tell. I can’t tell.
Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?
Yes. Yes, but–
Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions.
Honey, can you hear me?
Your name said clearly.
“Hey, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” you murmur.
“If you need a minute, that’s okay.”
You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass.
Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface.
“Maybe we should start from the beginning.”
There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.
“Okay.”
Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you.
You close your eyes.
“What stuck out?”
“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.”
“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?”
“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.”
Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.”
“I never got that far.”
“What did you do?”
“I filled the kettle.”
“What kettle?”
You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.”
“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?”
“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.”
“When?”
“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”
“And then–”
“Then he grabbed me.”
“Yeah,” Emily says softly.
You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.”
“Like he was quick on his feet?”
“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.”
“How big did he feel?”
Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big.
Where’s the worst of the blood?
“He said he was going to hide,” you remember.
“He said that? He said ‘hide’?
“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.”
“When was this?”
It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers.
“That was at the end,” you say.
“After he stabbed you?”
You wince. “Yes. After.”
“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.”
“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.”
“When Hotch found you?”
“No, before.”
“Before?” she asks.
You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move.
You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?
“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room.
“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.”
You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose.
“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly.
“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?”
So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much.
You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room.
You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron.
You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood.
“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees.
That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay.
He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear.
“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur.
He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread.
You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again.
“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say.
“Yes, I do.”
“Please don’t let me get hurt again.”
Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.”
You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep.
Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one. He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you.
He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water.
“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.”
You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters.
“I’m gonna be sick,” you say.
“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Please.”
“Did Emily tell you about my interview?”
He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?”
“I don’t want to say it again.”
“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.”
You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?”
“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.”
You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread.
“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern.
“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.”
“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?”
You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop.
Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again.
It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative.
“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says.
“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world.
“…This is my fault.”
“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep.
Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.”
“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly.
“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.
“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.”
You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless.
“I love you,” he says again.
“I know.”
“No, I love you.”
He’s saying sorry.
“I love you,” you mumble back.
“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?”
Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.”
“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.”
You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound.
His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both.
You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours.
“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says.
You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek.
—
Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises.
“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters.
“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.”
The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved.
I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone.
It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them.
I won’t.
He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will.
Foyet didn’t need much more than that.
He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either.
Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid.
One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.
Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner.
Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries.
He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you
Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this.
He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again.
He rubs his brow.
“You okay?” Emily asks.
When he looks up, JJ is gone.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not.”
He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says.
It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day.
He can’t fail you, too.
“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks.
Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?”
“Being in love.”
He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.”
She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”
Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks.
He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger.
It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt.
“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says.
He shakes his head.
She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.”
But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety.
“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.”
Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.”
He turns his attention back to the board without another word.
—
When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest.
Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him.
He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks.
He goes home satisfied.
“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in.
“Honey?” Aaron calls.
“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits.
Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!”
“Hi, junior g-man, what are you doing?”
“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.”
“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.
“You got him?” you ask.
He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.”
“How did you find him?”
He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.”
You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?”
“Brave.”
“I’m a coward.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.”
All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby.
Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless.
“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.”
“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.”
“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.”
“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue.
“But it keeps happening.”
His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead.
“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?”
“I remember,” he says, practically mouths.
“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–”
You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands.
“I didn’t want this for you,” he says.
“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?”
He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.”
You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.”
He looks at you in silence.
“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.”
He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?”
Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag.
You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed.
But not everything.
“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head.
He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly.
You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered.
He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Was Jack good?”
“Jack’s always good.”
“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?”
“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.”
“I can get those.”
“I know, I knew you would.”
He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek.
“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely.
“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip.
“My present?”
He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.”
In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks.
“Thank you,” you say.
Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him.
He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.”
He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch.
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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Aquamarine. Gold. Lavender.Colors of summer...
Astro Observations
work by astrobydalia
Your 9th house rules your gandchildren! 9th house is 5th from 5th so your kids' kids.
Also, if you are any of your parent's first kid look at their 11th house to get a glimpse at how they will perceive your fs. (11th house is 7th from 5th, so your first kid's spouse)
^^these are derivative astrology methods so you gotta use whole sign system
The scorpion actually represents the underdeveloped/young version of Scorpio while the developed version of Scorpio is represented by the eagle which to me is analogous to the phoenix. That's why you see an eagle representing Scorpio in the The World card (cause this card signifies fulfillment or completion in tarot)
I think the song 'Part of Me' by Katy Perry really illustrates developed Scorpio energy. Is not resentful or vengeful but rather transformative and empowering, you can't end their spirit just like you can't end a phoenix. Underdeveloped Scorpio energy allows pain, trauma and resentment to ultimately k!ll their soul which turns into self-destruction, think how scorpion's stinger actually points at them (and fun fact: scorpions can actually k!ll themselves when they feel cornered)
Being "different" or an "outcast" is not an Aquarius trait, it's a Leo trait. Leo is all about being yourself, being unique, the one and only and main character energy. Aquarius rules inclusivity, equality, social cohesion, FRIENDSHIP (aka people who get you) and public validation, that's why it is a strong fame indicator. Aquarius energy is relatable to others, its new and fresh, Leo it not relatable because it is unique, it shines among the crowd and burns just like the Sun. Aquarius can be unique too but the main difference is Leos feel ultimately they only have themselves while Aquarius will always have people.
Leos are meant to experience feeling "different" or outcasted because they need to learn to accept and express themselves no matter what, that's why it rules bravery and courage. They often either feel alone in their "greatness" or feel like nobody accepts their real self. Either way its more common for them than for Aquarius to experience loneliness and rejection just like the sun can't never have anything come too close to it
Aquarius does not rule uniqueness per se it rules innovation, authenticity and detachment from the ego. Aquarians that try hard to be different and separated from "most" people are underdeveloped because they're still attached to their ego and this is the n1 thing that kills their innovative potential. Aquarius doesn't do things to validate the self like Leo, it generates ideas on how humanity can better express itself and develop, that's why it rules over technology, science and activism and that's why they're known to be trend setters. Air signs are all about finding common ground, aquarians are not meant to be different from communities or groups but rather find new and authentic new ways to represent them (hence the inclusivity).
All the Gemini Venus I've met were very loyal in their relationships idk what you guys are talking about. They are the golden retriever person that is head over heals obsessed with their partner. It's not easy to get them to commit cus they need someone who has that perfect blend between goofy and mysterious, too much of either bores them quickly. They love in a playful and child-like way so I see how they can be flighty and non-commital sometimes but if they're genuinely intrigued by you oh boy they'll be ALL over you in every way pretty consistently
Harsh aspects (esp square) between Mercury-Mercury in synastry are a no-go when it comes to compatibility. The two people can get along well and like each other if the rest of the synastry supports it but they likely have NOTHING in common. Efforts to try and find shared interests or ideas might be misunderstood or feel forced because there's none 😭. Even if you do have shared ideas or interests, you will have vastly different ways of looking at them because the way in which you both think/communicate always clash so you never really see eye to eye. You can get away with having unharmonious connections between venus or mars in synastry but mercury? Nah.
When it comes to predictions specially, you need to have AT LEAST three indicators for an energy to stick. For example, having just one planet at 29º doesn't mean you're gonna be famous, you need to have at least three fame indicators to even consider fame in chart. Also, I can't stress this enough, you REALLY shouldn't need to dig too hard to find the indicators, they're usually evident and fit into the context of the chart, meaning there are no other things contradicting or neutralizing said energy.
Even though we often look at 7th house for marriage, you are most likely to consider marrying and settling down with people who have their placements in your 4th house and/or 10th house, or you just see them as marriage potential in general. 4th house creates a sense of home, security and familiarity while 10th house synastry points to shared goals, seeing a future together, etc. That's how you'll feel tho, to see if that would happen you gotta check composite chart
If you have fire in your big 3 I just know you love being unhinged and a little wild once you get comfortable
Natives with Venus-Chiron aspects tend to have... questionable taste in lovers or get in relationships that are not so promising (forbidden love, etc). Their love life is always a struggle, they feel like they can't find someone that truly loves them and when they do it's always "complicated". With hard aspects they tend to date people who blatantly suck (abusers, psychos, players, etc). With easy aspects this can happen too but I've noticed they are more prone to attracting people who are alright however deep down are very troubled and/or unavailable individuals so the native tends to be the one to heal or sooth their lover.
Scorpio Mars can have sadistic tendencies... It obviously does NOT have to go that far for everyone, in fact most of them are pretty tame but this placement really gets off on the reactions of others I've noticed. Their n1 superpower is catching you off guard and poking at you psychologically. They know exactly what strings to pull and are very aware of how anything they do or say can trigger and affect others. This can manifest as smart and punchy humor, teasing... or really toxic behaviors. Oh and you do NOT wanna see them genuinely angry 😶 If you have this placement im gonna kindly ask you to please use your powers for good 😭💀
Females with Libra placements could have experienced being 'the other woman' I've seen this a lotttt. Either that or they constantly attract situatioships. They have a tendency to not be taken seriously by the opposite sex, only being seen as a trophy or a pretty face kinda vibe. Unless they also have Cancer energy
Which is interesting to see cause even though Libra rules marriage, the kind of women who are mostly perceived as marriage material by men are Cancer placements not Libra. If you think about it, it makes sense tho cause cancer rules family and motherhood
Water venus people have a very approachable and understanding aura. Very diplomatic and tactful, they'll effortlessly make you feel comfortable around them. Equally accepting of others both in public and in privet, but you'll automatically lose them if you make them feel invaded
Fire venus motto is "it's impossible to impress me.... but let's see you try😏". They purposefully market themselves as hard to get cause they want to see what you got. Will constantly crave interactions with some fun and friction
Earth venus are a lot more harsh, they haven't even talked to you yet but somehow have already decided you didn't make the cut 🥱 Silent observers, they'll have a mental spread sheet of what they like and don't like about you
With air venus you don't want to come off too strong otherwise you'll activate their fight or flight response 🏃♀️ You'll never know where you stand with them but if you wanna get closer you need to keep it playful and give them space
Virgo Sun/Mars/ASC like to help others but they do it in such way that is also indirectly self-serving to themselves. Virgos are sidereal Leos, they secretly want recognition for their modesty and want their actions and efforts to ultimately shine back on them
Underdeveloped Pisces Moons are selfish and out of touch. I’ve noticed this placement is painted in a way too innocent light but they can have a nasty shadow too. They will not accept anything that does not conform to their delusional expectations about life and when things don't go their way they’ll isolate in melancholy and victimize themselves using the ‘misunderstood’ card. They can have a really twisted perception of reality, confusing the lines between right and wrong to accommodate their own narrative. Think Thanos from MCU, that character is a perfect example of underdeveloped Pisces Moon fr!! They tend to be very aloof and weaponize their empathy to appear innocent . Can use the “I can understand the world but the world doesn’t understand me” mentality to justify everything they do without ever feeling bad about it.
Another Return that brings a lot of karmic lessons aside from Saturn Return is your North Node return which happens every 18 years (Ages 18, 36, 54, etc)
Gemini risings have a fabricated or fragmented personality. They're often attracted to things like astrology, personality stuff, psychology, etc because it helps them make sense of themselves through abstract concepts. They also tent to define themselves through imitation or comparison like "I do that too", etc. It's very easy for them to convince themselves they're something they're not (gemini rules lies and deception), that's why they're often good actors (Pisces 10th house). They come across as very air-headed cause who they present themselves to be is based on who they THINK and SAY they are vs. how that translates in reality
Based on my life experience and also the responses in astro/observation posts, I've observed Scorpio placements respond relatively well to criticism. Not saying they don't care, but they can handle being villainized quite well because when developed they can have a really healthy acceptance of their shadow side and toxic traits. They also don't mind being misunderstood cause that means people can't pry on their business
CANCER, Libra, Leo and Virgo placements on the other hand are the most sensitive to criticism.... They can't handle not being seen as "the good one" all the time
Most Pisces suns I've met gave off huge xNTJ vibes for some reason like very deep thinkers, silent, sarcastic with a low-key threatening and unapproachable aura. Also VERY elusive and protective their personal stuff, they embodied the "mysterious" Scorpio stereotype fr.
However Pisces sun+pisces venus combo gives much softer vibe, more quiet and doormat-like, you'd think they're high 24/7.
The other bunch of Pisces suns Ive met had a very bubbly and dramatic personality. Can be emotional in a really performative way
Libra Mars people are SMOOOOOTH. Not only with their words but also their mannerisms, how they move and do things in general. You'll never see them triggered or stressed, they make everything look so effortless
The Pluto in Scorpio generation (millennials mostly) were the ones who started this mental health awareness wave. All this concern with anxiety, depression, mental and personality disorders was started by them. They’re the ones who started putting focus on the deeper effects of the dark psychology (Scorpio).
All the people that have scared me and traumatized me deeply for life had planets in my 12th house with no 8th house synastry in sight whatsoever…
>>> In my experience 8th house synastry is only intense in the moment but eventually you get over it fast once you stop entertaining the person/situation. It might be hard to let it go tho cause the connection is intense and this person will leave a lasting impression, but once it’s done that person is forever dead to you. 12th house synastry on the other hand is giving "I fight with you in my sleep", 12th house feels harmless at first but it deals with themes of sorrow and shame. It lingers and haunts you fr. Let’s remember that Saturn, the planet of permanece and lessons, finds its joy in the 12th house…
8th house venus/juno is NOT a sugar baby indicator imo. As per my observation, it is actually the 8th house native that ends up making a lot of money and their spouse/partner benefits from the native's income and success. I swear every person I've seen with these placements had "we could hang out in my yacht if you want😉" as their main flirting technique LMAO. Their own power (8th house) is their main source of seduction and attraction (Venus/Juno)
I believe 2nd house Venus/Juno is more indicative of sugar baby energy. They want that spoiled good life with little effort even if that means being financially dependent on someone else or using family's money
In contrast I've noticed 8th house placements are not really like that, they have a HEAVY entrepreneurial spirit. Super ambitious individuals
With that being said, be careful if your have natal 8th house placements (specially Venus, Moon, Juno, 7th house ruler), cause the people you bond with WILL benefit from YOUR income and success. That's why these natives are prone to experiencing betrayal, cause if you surround yourself with the wrong people they'll take what they want from you or cause chaos in your life and then leave, so use your intuition!!
With 2nd house energy you are good at keeping your resources and income safe, but this means they can lose value if you don't use or invest them eventually just like food goes bad if it just sits in the fridge. With 8th house energy you are prone to loss, debt, loans and other financial risks where you either lose it all or gain lots and lots of money, the all or nothing nature of plutonic energy.
I bet any virgo placement can relate to being a little bit of mess but something I’ve seen in particular with Virgo risings is they are surprisingly sloppy?? You really wouldn't in a million years think so given how they always end up presenting good results but once you know them deeply you notice they often miss out on important details in the process or get so caught up with short-term things that they miss the big picture. Either way, they often look like they got it all together but they constantly improvise a lot more that what it looks like in the surface
Aquarius Mars is a placement I've seen A LOT in celebrities, specially well-liked ones. They attract people to them just by existing, they don't even have to try too hard
I’ve noticed a lot of critically acclaimed actors have air moons
Sagittarius Part of Fortune have a vibrant and fun spirit, you can’t never kill their vibes but they can tend to be immature. It’s like they’re completely oblivious to anything serious
Libras are people pleasers due to a hidden inferiority complex (sidereal virgo)
work by astrobydalia
#astrology#astro#astro observations#astro notes#zodiac#birth chart#astrobydalia#astrology observations#astro community
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titfucking
content: smut, established relationship implied, titfucking, mentions of cum-eating, etc.
wc: 697
a/n: this just came to mind at some point lol i hope u guys like it
masterlist
seungcheol -
commandeers you all throughout it despite his composure being on a very thin thread. no matter how hard he tries to fight the effect your tits around his cock have on him, he'd end up cumming faster than usual, crying out your name and begging you to give him a repeat of this as soon as he got hard again.
jeonghan -
yoon jeonghan? stuttering and out of breath? unheard of! only time you may ever see this side of jeonghan is when you get on your knees, lower your tank top and wordlessly offer up your tits for fucking. he'll stutter and make a fool of himself as he nods along, thanking you under his breath for wrapping those pretty tits around him.
joshua -
one of the only times in which he'd take a subby position in the bedroom. his obsession with your body would manifest itself in such an obvious way as he praised and worshiped you for making him feel so good in such a filthy manner.
jun -
absolute boob man, which means the idea might likely kill him on the spot. the mere mention of fucking your tits has him almost cum untouched. always comes extremely quickly at just the sight of his cock in between your breasts, giving you a huge upper hand.
soonyoung -
his eyes stick to your tits any time you're shirtless around him, and the same would occur when you gave him the grand privilege of wrapping them around his dick. he's a little extra loud and sensitive when he gets to fuck your tits, usually losing all ability to think the moment the idea is brought up.
wonwoo -
kind of a little more nonchalant about it when its first brought up but a total mess once you actually pull out his cock and begin lining it up between your tits. becomes a pathetic and desperate mess as he watches you do as you please with his cock.
jihoon -
goes insanely red and stammers for a whole minute before being able to express how down he was for the idea. this would become the main event in every late night fantasy he had about you whenever you were away from now on. he'd quite literally cry at the pleasure and sight.
seokmin -
eyes crossed and hands crumpling the sheets between his fingers. a bit of drool coming from the corner of his mouth at the feeling of your sleek tits (sleek from his cum ofc) suffocating his cock. prettiest cries known to man as he tries to praise you in between moans. is literally crying by the end of it.
mingyu -
a chorus of yeses fills the room as he enters an overly excited state, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to your room. in less than a minute you'd both be undressed and he'd be hard as a rock. would babble and drool throughout the whole experience, begging you to do it every so often.
minghao -
chuckled at you for having such a filthy idea. very down for it, but not too outwardly enthusiastic. would want to keep some sort or control during it since you are on your knees for him and everything. would have to use up all his strength to keep his composure.
seungkwan -
genuinely wonders if you have ulterior motives to kill him. you offering such a filthy thing would make him lose his mind. any last bit of sanity he may have had would leave his body when you actually put him between your breasts. would practically black out during it.
vernon -
something he's always wanted to try with you but felt too shy to ask. when you first bring it up, he literally starts choking on the food he was eating. disregards his near-death experience to drag you to your room so you can permanently alter his life with your tits around his cock.
chan -
moans out loud at the suggestion. needs it and needs it now, no matter what other plans you may have had prior. cums embarrassingly fast but makes up for it by licking his cum off your chest and worshiping your body for hours on end.
#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt x reader#seventeen imagine#seventeen#seventeen oneshot#svt#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt imagines#svt oneshot#svt scenarios#svt reactions#seventeen reaction
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First step to being a rationalist.
Acknowledge it might not work.
Let me take a step back for a moment. The single most important principle of science, in my opinion, is acknowledging the possibility of failure, that something might be beyond you. People often think of science as how you discover the truth, but I think it is more accurately and importantly described by how it lets us determine what we do not know.
For most of human history, we not only did not know what the sun was made out of, the question was fundamentally beyond our grasp. There was nothing any amount of scientific principle could do that would let you know what the sun was for most of human history. To be a scientist about it, to apply the scientific method to understanding the sun, is not just being able to know nuclear physics. You have to teach yourself to know when to say 'I don't know'.
For most of human history the sun has been fundamentally beyond our capacity to understand. And yet it is one of the most enduring and common subjects of false explanations. To internalize the scientific method, truly in a way that changes your thinking relative to what it was before you learned it, you have to become someone who, if you were living in those times, would be able to say "I don't know" even when everyone around you has an answer.
So let's talk about rationalism.
Rationalism is not just the idea that we can understand human biases. It's not just the idea that we can be more thoughtful or knowledgeable people by understanding these biases. No, rationalism is specifically the idea that by learning enough about human biases and by leaning on hard enough on data, we can reliably make correct and optimal moral choices. It is the belief that by performing enough rationalist study and training, and applying enough information science to a problem, one can proceed on the assumption they have come to the correct conclusion.
And those are very different things. It is the difference between saying "by understanding wood better, we can construct better foot bridges" and "by understanding wood better, we can span the San Francisco Bay with it".
Because here's the thing, better is not the same thing as reliable. Even if we grant the assumption that learning about biases makes one less likely to fall prey to them, and that is an assumption, an 80% chance of making mistake is also less than a 90% chance of making a mistake. It's valuable, that's a good thing, but it is not sufficient to say "hey so I used this method to come to my conclusions, therefore I'm sure I didn't make a mistake".
If you want to be a rationalist, the first rational principle you need to apply is that of the scientific principle looking at the sun. You need to be able to say "There may be nothing I can do, with the resources I have access to, to be sure I am actually free of bias and mistakes in logic. This may be fully beyond me, for the entire span of my life." And not just in the sense that nobody is perfect, but in the very real sense that you cannot depend on the train of logic in your own head to lead you to a correct place.
And the reason this is important is for the same reason it's important in science. The moment that you presume something is in fact knowable in science, it just becomes a tool of accrediting whatever conclusion you come to. It stops being an actual tool of discovery and becomes a rubber stamp of validation. It becomes something which makes you feel better about the conclusion you came to, not something which actually helps you in any way.
The moment you say to yourself, "because I am a rationalist, I am confident enough in A, B, and C to take actions X, Y, and Z" you've failed to be a rationalist. (Unless you provide a double blind study of a large well-controlled population, one of which was given rationalist training and the other which wasn't, upon the end of which it was determined that the rationalist trained population did indeed perform to an improved standard meeting a high minimum on certain metrics (upon which you must limit your assumption of rationalist improvement to those specific metrics). And then this study has been in the corpus of literature long enough to be peer-reviewed and criticized and had duplicate research and further investigation and a good long while for the scientific community to dissect it. A thing which has definitely not happened yet.)
The most important thing you can learn from rationalism is not an understanding of a specific set of biases. It's not the particular ways human cognition is messed up and it's not any type of information science. It is the fact that humans are flawed.
The most important thing you can learn from rationalism is humility, not hubris.
To do otherwise is for rationalism to just become another tool of confirmation bias, something making you think you are more correct than you actually are.
The humility you have to learn from rationalism is that you must plan and behave on the assumption that no matter how rationalist you think you are, you might still be behaving in biased ways. That there might be no way to fix this. And so all you can do try to behave in ways where even if you're wrong, you're going to minimize the harm you do to others.
This is where futurist philosophies derived from rationalism, the idea that the unimaginable number of humans in the future are so much more than the ones now that it justifies worker exploitation and present harms to make the far future better, falls apart. This is where AI doomerism/utopianism, the idea that general AI is definitely the biggest threat and potential boon facing humanity so we have to put all of our resources into safe AI research at the expense of everything else, falls apart. This is where effective altruism, the idea that we can quantify the outcomes of charity thoroughly enough that it makes sense to hand over direction of all charity to a small group of experts, falls apart.
Because the answer to "what if you're wrong about these philosophies?" is that a lot of people get very hurt. We are flawed. Fundamentally so, and I don't know that anyone has ever proved a way we can get around this. The only thing I know that we can do about this, is to try to behave in ways that minimize harms while trying to make the world better, rather than trying to maximize a hail mary to find the holy grail.
To which I can already hear the rationalists saying that this might not be enough to save the world, that anything but convulsive directed effort focused on is already doomed, so we have to pick one of them.
To which I say. First off, how are you sure of that? How is this a thing that you know for certain?
But more importantly. Yeah. You're right. There's no way of knowing for sure what course of action will make the world a better place. There's no way of knowing that anything short of futurists sacrificing the workers of the present to build a brighter future will be enough.
But if you are actually a rationalist, well. That is what you have to live with. You've got to be the scientist looking up at the sun and saying, "I don't know."
And then you should go and do things to make the world better without being sure of your prognostication of the future.
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Which tf2 merc do you think gets mischaracterized the least?
Good question! Let's do a rating.
In my opinion, there are three aspects to characterizing someone.
Facts - you have to get basic character backstory right. This includes all objective canon truths, events, and, well, facts about said character.
Behavior - you need to understand how the character acts, how their interpersonal relationships function, what they're like in their day-to-day life. This is the nitty-gritty of fanfic and fanart, this is dialogue, line-to-line characterization.
Integrity - you need to understand the character's core beliefs and principles, what their values are and how they view the world around them. This isn't something you can easily quote or point to as a mistake in fanfic, it's more of an overall idea of a character.
Each of these is going to be worth up to three points, with zero for terrible characterization that gets everything wrong. This would ideally total to nine points. I'll be awarding an additional bonus point for character interpretation that doesn't make me scream "he would not fucking say that". Let's go.
Scout:
His backstory is fairly simple. He has an absent father, half a dozen siblings, and a crush on his boss who doesn't reciprocate. People mostly get this right, except they also call him a virgin despite the fact he canonically lands the fried chicken queen, and seems to do it with ease. 2/3.
His behavior is also mostly portrayed accurately, in that he's loud, obnoxious, self-absorbed, and can be kind of a dick, though not completely without endearing qualities. The fandom is, admittedly, guilty of making him more insecure and self-conscious than he actually is, to amp up the drama. 2/3.
His core values, however, are completely off. The main interpretations I see of him are "depressed Scout", "homophobic Scout", and "baby Scout", neither of which is true to his character. This is a grown man with a force-a-nature complex. The homophobia is just projection and internalized prejudice, but that phenomena is too complicated for me to dissect here. I talked about it before and might make another post later. Anyway, 0/3.
Scout does not get a bonus point. He would not fucking say "poggers" but he would say "daddy-o".
Overall characterization score: 4/10
Soldier:
Very little is known about Soldier's backstory so there isn't really any room to be wrong about it. What we do know is also vague and unreliable, so it's open to interpretation. Given how little room for error there is, I'll give him a 3/3.
His behavior is completely off in most cases, often shown to either be overly aggressive or so dumb you start to question how this man functions in his day-to-day life. Canon Soldier has plenty of endearingly stupid moments but a lot of them can be read as deadpan jokes on the character's part, and many turn out to be secretly clever moments, such as him infiltrating the robot base with a goofy cardboard disguise. Likewise, canon Soldier has plenty of aggressive and mean moments, but he's not cruel and very clearly not a threat to his teammates, which isn't captured at all in fanworks that decide to go that way. 0/3.
Soldier's core ideals are mostly captured well, as in - yeah, he calls people communist as an insult in fanfics. I feel like he should mention God more often than he does in fanon, it's, like, one of the two ideologically meaningful things he ever talks about. The importance of "America" as a concept to him is mostly preserved but left unexplored. 2/3.
Soldier does not get a bonus point, he would not fucking say [homophobic slur] yet here we fucking are.
Overall characterization score: 5/10
Pyro:
His backstory is nonexistent yet people still fuck it up. His technical knowledge is clearly extensive and impressive, as shown by the complexity of his weaponry - which, mind you, looks HAND MADE - but people treat him as if he's altogether incompetent and maniacally stupid all the time always. He also ran an engineering company for hell knows how long and people just forget about it because they're allergic to adults or something. God this pisses me off so much. I mean for fuck's sake, people act like his full job description is "Pyromaniac" and not "Pyrotechnician". I'm so tired. 0/3.
His day-to-day characterization and dialogue is also completely off. People treat him as if he's INCAPABLE of communication, make him obsess over childish things he's only shown a moderate liking to in a manner that's borderline creepy and insulting, and take away his whole entire agency in everything he ever does. I will literally not give y'all a single point, you do my man Pyro so dirty. 0/3.
His ideology is complex and vague in canon, and I don't blame people for getting confused by such things as Pyrovision, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. In my time on Ao3 I've seen animal Pyro, cryptid Pyro, monster Pyro, alien Pyro, evil mindless maniac Pyro, incompetent baby Pyro, nonbinary Pyro (HENCE MY PROBLEM WITH THE HEADCANON, do you see how it looks next to all these other interpretations?) but I've rarely, if ever, seen competent adult Pyro with actual hopes and dreams and agency. 0/3.
Pyro does not get a bonus point because he would not fucking say "uwu" but he would say "fuck", let Pyro say fuck.
Overall characterization score: 0/10 are you fucking surprised
Demoman:
Oh poor lad what have they done to you. So, Demo's backstory is arguably the most detailed and fleshed-out in the entire canon. Too bad nobody fucking read it. Admittedly, in the recent years I've seen people mostly manage to remember he has several jobs and is overall a competent and successful man, but it's rarely - if ever - explored, I've seen exactly one fic where the author bothered to explore what one of his other jobs might be (and it was not a good fic for many other reasons, don't ask me for a link), and it honestly feels like people don't want to dwell on it? Like, they mostly mention it to fill a quota, y'know? Here, I'm not racist, I've acknowledged one of this character's achievements, leave me alone. Also the subject of him being fucking adopted as a kid never comes up. 0/3.
His day-to-day characterization suffers a lot because people think alcoholism is the most morally repugnant thing that can ever happen to a human being. This man honestly barely even has a presence in the fics he's in. Are you wondering where Demo is? Well, he wasn't there! He was BUSY! He couldn't come! There is a handful of writers who bother to write his actual inner monologue and point of view, and this point goes out to them only. Also there was a pretty good Boots and Bombs fic in which Demo was a dick to Soldier but then got better, and it stuck with me. 1/3.
His core character is fucked up by fandom because he's either all flaws or not allowed to have any flaws, and there's no in-between. Ever since I joined the fandom I've seen a lot of critique floating around, and people mostly seem to listen and realize they've been mistreating the man for long enough, but it created a whole separate problem of Perfect Demoman which is bland and boring. People don't want to write an offensive caricature but don't feel like fleshing him out either, so they just make him great at everything and never let him fail and grown in ways that are meaningful. Except that one fic I mentioned earlier, but I've already awarded a point for that. 0/3.
Demo does not get a bonus point. I couldn't find a meaningful example of bad dialogue because, like I said, he has no presence in any of the fics he's in. He would fucking say something.
Overall characterization score: 1/10 and honestly it's too generous on my part.
Heavy:
Okay so Heavy's backstory really confuses people. I've got like a dozen asks in my inbox when I called his father a revolutionary AND a counter-revolutionary. Wait till I call him a royalist, it'll blow your tits clean off. I don't feel like explaining the history of the communist regime in the USSR on this post, let's just say people are mostly faithful to canon but don't really "get" Heavy. 2/3.
His day-to-day characterization is plain bad. He's treated like a mother hen to the mercs when he's more of a stoic friend with a mean streak and a crude sense of humor. I think the main problem is the dialogue, people just can't give him the dignity of speaking in an intelligent manner. It's honestly also pretty bad in the comics. 1/3.
His core ideals are fine, if oversimplified. He's not a complicated man, he loves his family, his guns and his doctor. People rarely give him any more depth than that but it's not offensive to his character or anything. I feel like he should have more political opinions than people give him. I also feel like people make him way more protective of Zhanna's romantic pursuits, to a creepy degree. I mean, yes, he's annoyed by her marrying Soldier, and seems horrified for a brief second, but it's not like he's against it or anything, he's just kinda surprised? Anyway, 2/3.
Heavy does not get a bonus point because he would not fucking say "da". Pizda.
Overall characterization score: 5/10
Engineer:
Yeah people mostly get him. He's got 11 Ph. Ds. Some treat him like he grew up as an actual cowboy or something but most remember he's a nerd. I'd actually give all the points here because Engie's backstory is NOT complicated. 3/3.
His dialogue and day-to-day characterization is also okay, though people really mellow him down a lot. I had a bit in one of my fics where he said something like "let's teach those sumbitches how the real killin' is done" and like three different people commented on it saying they liked or were surprised by his mean energy. It's not even that mean, I think it kinda shows my problem with his interpretation. 2/3.
I asked about mischaracterization once and a lot of people replied "Engie is the most mischaracterized because people treat him like he's good but he's actually evil" which I think pretty much covers it? It's hard to write someone who is not implicitly strictly good or strictly evil. Engie treads this balance really well, I'm actually convinced his demeanor is not a facade, he is nice at times and mean when he wants to be. Fanon Engie can only be one of two things and neither is right. 0/3.
Engie gets a bonus point as an exception. I actually can't tell why, people just have his voice on-point. Is his accent and manner of speaking really that easy for you? I struggle to write him a lot. I think he should say "bitch" more.
Overall characterization score: 6/10
Medic:
People focus on the fact he lost his medical license more than on the fact he HAD a medical license in the first place. Other than that he really doesn't have a backstory. I dislike that people try to give him a sad one, I think he grew up loved and maybe even a little spoiled, but I can't fault others for not following my headcanons, so. 2/3.
His dialogue is the WORST because it's written phonetically. His goofy yet self-confident energy isn't captured well at all. The best I can put this is "people wife him" but it sounds kinda mysogynistic so really I'm at a loss. Submissivepilled breedablemaxxer. 0/3.
His core values are also all over the place. The complicated thing about writing Medic is that he actually doesn't come with pre-packaged drama. His backstory is vague, his demeanor is optimistic, his vibes are fun, and the worst thing that happened to him in canon was working with the classics for a bit - people amp it up to squeeze hurt out of it, which is fine, but not many people actually like going there. Thing is, fanfic writers aren't that good at writing drama when it hasn't been established before. They have to warp his character, make him edgy, self-conscious, or plain mad evil without redeeming qualities. I remember really struggling with my big Medic fic because I wanted it to be dramatic but had to put a lot of work into actually building up the emotion, because Medic is fine. He's fine. He's alright. He's fine. He's doing well. 0/3.
Medic does NOT get a bonus point, he would not fucking say "babygirl" and I'm not even sure if he would say "yass queen slay" I'm SORRY
Overall characterization score: 2/10
Sniper:
People mostly get his backstory right, probably because it's the most well-explained in the comics and it gets the most "screentime". It's also literally a Superman parody which is funny and memorable in concept. 3/3.
People can't find a good balance between stoic professionalism and social anxiety. I think Sniper is actually pretty simple, in that he's a little self-conscious which pushes him to actively better himself as a professional, but also makes him a little awkward so he comes across as standoffish and a little mean. He's a solid bloke that's balanced and feels real. Fandom has to go for the extreme every goddamn time with him. It sucks. 0/3.
People kind of get his drama, his relationship with his family and whatnot - mostly because a lot of us losers can relate, I bet - but, again, go for the extreme in making him anxious, whiny, and sad as a wet kitten. Unless it's a porn fic in which case he's an absolute freak that growls at people. I don't know what it is about Sniper that makes him so difficult to characterize. Manic pixie dream boy. Dark and moody lover love me like no other. 0/3.
Sniper does NOT get a bonus point because he doesn't say "cunt" nearly as often as he should. Also send me asks about my Sniper takes I want to stir up some shit.
Overall characterization score: 3/10.
Spy:
The only piece of his backstory we actually know is that he fathered the blight of the earth that is Scout TF2. 3/3.
His obnoxious and insufferable demeanor is mostly captured well. A lot of his portrayals aren't nearly as classy as people think they are, but that's because most authors are themselves proletarian, myself included, which is fine. Not many make the effort to pepper his speech with French words it would actually be natural for him to say, and blame it on the nonsensical complexity of the French language, but I'm not buying it as an excuse. 2/3.
His core values are off in regards to Scout - he's often portrayed as soft, mellow, overbearing, and critical of Scout's love life to either a comical or an uncomfortable degree. His fandom portrayal often also lacks the self-confidence he's demonstrated in the comics. Spy is not above strangling a man with a chain that holds the shackles around his ankles, he wouldn't consider it a blow to his dignity to fuck any of his coworkers either, come on. He's also funny and goofy but the fandom tends to neglect that. 1/3.
Spy does not get a bonus point because he would not say "perchance" but he would say "your mother".
Overall characterization score: 6/10
The final scores are:
Spy - 6/10
Engineer - 6/10
Heavy - 5/10
Soldier - 5/10
Scout - 4/10
Sniper - 3/10
Medic - 2/10
Demoman - 1/10
Pyro - 0/10
There we go! Pyro is the most mischaracterized, Demoman is a close second, and nobody is characterized well. Cheers!
#raynswers#my good friend cock#tf2#tf2 scout#tf2 soldier#tf2 pyro#tf2 demoman#tf2 heavy#tf2 engineer#tf2 medic#tf2 sniper#tf2 spy
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Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | JTK (1 of 2)
A friendly hangout and an innocent drinking game turns into a troublesome affair.
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader
Word count: 13.5k
Warnings: sexual situations, mentions of sexual frustrations, lots of sexual tension, like one smidgen of dry humping, embarrassing crushes, kissing/making out, awkward situations, play fighting, lots of friendly teasing, drinking, smoking, partying, swearing, a touch of angst, lots of fluff, sorry if i miss any! (stick around for part two for the rest 😉)
hi lovelies, I had a blast writing this! part two obviously is the more climactic part, but I hope you enjoy this for now. The next one should be out soon 🤍 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!
The summer sun was blinding, irritating your eyes as you shielded them with your hand. Your skin was warm, the cool pool water long forgotten and the droplets dried into a distant memory. The drink sitting in the cup holder of your patio chair was condensated, the ice inside melting the longer you sat, and the music blaring through your speaker was playing a song you hadn’t heard in a long time. The moment was perfect, the summer day exactly what you had dreamed of in the slump of work that only ever seemed to grow larger. What made it even better was the crowd of boys sitting poolside, their feet in the water and beer bottles in their hands.
As you sipped at your straw, you watched as one of them stood, the water running from his legs onto the brand new concrete panels on the ground. You looked upwards, your eyes settling on his face as he turned away from his brothers and took a step in your direction. His brown hair hung over his shoulders, framing his face and blowing softly in the barely-there breeze. You couldn’t help but feel your lips turn upwards into a smile as he continued on his path, standing in front of you and casting a shadow over your chair.
“The sun looks good on you, you know.” He said, his hands anchored on his hips as he gazed down upon your lax position in the chair.
“What does that mean, Jacob?” You raised an eyebrow, looking over the top your sunglasses at him. There was a hint of a smile on his lips too, and you could see his skin of his chest and shoulders beginning to redden from the constant sunlight touching it.
“It means you look better in the sun than you do behind an office desk.” He continued, pushing an identical chair closer to you with his leg. He stopped when the arm collided with yours, sending the ice in your drink clinking against the plastic cup. He sat down, turning his head to look at you before speaking again. “It means we have to do this more often.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” You sighed, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. You rested your head against the wooden back of the chair, taking in a long breath. The summer air was sweet, lingering with the scent of the blossoming flowers Jake had helped you plant by the doorway just a few days prior. When the wind blew just right, you were hit in the face with his cologne still lingering on his skin, mixing with the last bit of sunscreen that refused to wash away after his pool escapades. The scent was familiar, it was comfortable, and it made you think of home.
“Makes me think you’re forgetting about me, sometimes.”
“Forgetting about you?” You scoffed, chuckling at the idea alone. “As if I could do that even if I wanted to. And how does that make any sense? You’re here every fuckin’ day anyway.” At that, he let out a laugh, one that shook his shoulders and echoed through the air.
“Yeah, but hanging out with you is much different than listening to you talk on a boring conference call from across the room.” He brought the cap of his beer to the edge of the arm on his chair. After a few seconds spent positioning it correctly, he slammed his hand down on top of it. The cap popped off, clanging down on the concrete, and bubbles overflowed from the neck of the bottle. With a mischievous smile, he flicked his hands towards you. You jumped in surprise as the cold liquid hit your warm skin, sending him a glare that spoke louder than any words. “You moved halfway across the country so you could be near us again, and all you do is work.”
“Mhm,” you let out a hum, your lips pressed tightly together as you wiped away the droplets of beer from your chest. “You travel all over the world for months at a time, but you don’t hear me complain about it.” He shot you an incredulous look, shaking his head in disbelief that you would even say such a thing.
“Yeah, I do actually. Every minute of every day that I’m gone.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.” You dismissed him, closing your eyes as you fought back a smile.
“I can pull up the texts if you’d like,” he said, reaching for the patio table on the other side of you to grab his phone. As he did, you grabbed his wrist, holding his hand back so he could not proceed any further. “And the phone calls.” He let out a long breath, upping his extravagance to bring extra attention to his point. He didn’t cower under your hold, but he didn’t try to move again. “It always goes something like—‘oh, Jake, when are you coming home? I miss you so much’ or ‘only three more sleeps!’” He put on an airy, high pitched voice as he recounted the things you said to him most often.
“Oh, so that’s how we’re going to do this?” You asked, sitting up in your chair and turning towards him. “You don’t want me to start.” You warned, still holding his wrist tightly in your hand.
“Oh, yeah, whatever.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Uh-huh,” you hummed. “What about you? Calling me at three in the morning ‘cause you couldn’t sleep, or when you have a little too much to drink and you miss the sound of my voice?”
“Yeah, like I’d miss the sound of your annoying little ‘Jacob Kiszka’s’! You’re worse than my mom when you call!” He put an extra flair on his voice as he imitated you, striking a flame of annoyance within you.
“Maybe if you’d behave yourself when you’re gone, I wouldn’t have to—“
“Hey!” Josh shouted, turning his head back towards the two of you. “Stop fighting with each other. You’re ruining the vibes.” He motioned to the still, blue water of the pool, illuminated with sun rays.
“He started it.” You grumbled, letting go of his arm and pushing it away from yourself at the same time.
“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it!” Josh snipped, taking a sip of his drink. “Worse than children, the two of you.” He let out a disappointed tsk.
“Yes, mom.” You hung your head low with faux shame.
“Sorry, mom.” Jake joined, copying your actions. When Josh turned back to the pool, you could see Jake peeking over at you through the strands of his hair. You bit down on the inside of your lip, stifling the laugh that was rising in your throat. Then, in a hushed whisper, you could hear a grating sound coming from his lips. When you strained to listen, you could he him muttering words, mocking his twin brother for his inability to have fun.
The laugh that tore from your chest was loud, irritating, and disruptive to everyone sitting in the immediate vicinity. Your shoulders shook and your stomach ached from the laughter coursing through you. Josh whipped his head back around, his eyes settling on Jake with a scowl on his lips.
“Is he making fun of me? I know he’s making fun of me.” Josh huffed, ready to argue worse than what the two of you were doing moments before.
“No, Josh. Pinky promise that nobody was making fun of you.” You gave him a sweet smile, sipping at your straw.
“You always take his side!” Josh accused, still joking but spewing some truth about the situation.
“I’m not taking anyone’s side!” You defended, raising your hands in the air.
“F’course you are, ‘cause your in love with him!” Josh grumbled, frustrated at your constant insistence on having Jake’s back and not his.
“I am not!” You exploded, looking to the chair beside you. Jake was unbothered by the thought, amused by the situation unfolding before his eyes, and happy the attention was off him and on you, instead.
“Are too!” Sam joined in, using his foot to reel in one of the pool floaties. As he did, he slid from the poolside on top of the tube. After he situated himself, he pushed himself away from the side and floated to the middle of the water.
“Do you hear yourselves? Are you insane?” You fought off the accusations like your life depended on it, your cheeks burning red and your stomach twisted with embarrassment.
You weren’t sure why it was such a sore subject, but every time they spoke the idea into existence, your whole body felt like it would explode if you didn’t get yourself out of the spotlight.
“Look at her, she’s blushing.” Daniel cackled, his head turned just enough to see your face.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Jake cut in, realizing that you were more uncomfortable than they thought. “Josh, you’re just mad she broke up with you in the third grade. Let it go, man.” Jake said, watching as Josh’s expression dropped into one of great confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. His lips dipped into a frown, then he turned back towards the pool, lifting himself off the ground by his arms and sinking into the water.
Even if the other three knew they were in the right, they were never a match for the two of you when you joined forces against them.
When everyone distracted themselves with drinks and swimming, easily moving on from the moment of torment, Jake reached his arm out to you. He brushed the hair away from your shoulders, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck. The touch was calming, and when his fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of your neck, gently scratching over your head, you nearly forgot what had you upset in the first place. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned back into the chair.
“They’re just being assholes, trouble.” The nickname fell from his lips, smooth like silk and sweet as sugar. You could listen to him call you that all day and you were certain you would never get tired of it. “They don’t mean it, they just like to get under your skin.”
“I know.” You hummed, lost in the feeling of his hand on your neck. “Just don’t like it when they team up on me, is all. I know they’re just joking.”
And you did; they had been joking about the same thing since the summer before freshman year of high school, when you had spent every single day following Jake around like a second shadow. It would have hurt you more had he not been doing the exact same thing to you, and it would have been unbearable if you actually did feel that way about him. Back then, you laughed it off, and so did he. Both of you knew the notion was incredibly incorrect, and neither of you were too concerned about the constant teasing that came along with having a best friend of the opposite sex in a small town during your high school years.
In fact, nothing really bothered you much. There was nothing in the world that seemed to be able to tear the two of you apart, and no rumors or suspicious whispers ever changed the dynamics of your relationship. He was your best friend, and to this day, the simple fact remained the same. After a fateful encounter at the soccer field at the school on a warm July morning, the two of you got to know each other beyond what’s expected of familiar faces. You realized you had a whole hell of a lot in common, and within seconds, you realized that friendship with Jake Kiszka was a prized possession you never wanted to give up.
You knew each other beforehand, seeing each other in class and of course, the disastrous heartbreak of his twin brother in the fall of third grade (the relationship only lasted two weeks, but he really liked you), but never explored the possibilities of friendship until that summer.
Since then, you had never known anything else.
You spent days in his bedroom, watching him (poorly) play the new guitar his dad bought for him and watching movies that would quickly turn into memories that served you great comfort. He would walk your dog with you, and occasionally get ice cream with you at the corner store down the street when you both managed to scrape together enough change. When the school year started, you were his crutch for academics, and he was your’s for anything social. Before him, you didn’t have many friends, and the idea of high school always struck a sensitive nerve within you. With him by your side, you never felt like you had to worry about a thing. He held your hand through your first (real) heartbreak, and you helped him practice asking out girls to the school dances.
As you grew older, life changed, but never your friendship. Summers were the same, only with a little more freedom. You went on road trips when you felt your third-hand car could survive it, and got your older brother to buy you booze for house parties. You dated plenty of people, but none of the relationships ever lasted. Plenty of tears were shed, lots of memories were made, and one thing forever remained constant; his presence in your life, and his unwavering support. He wiped away the tears, shared the bottle of vodka, and always knew where to find you when a slow song came over the loudspeaker so he could get at least one dance in at the parties.
It was a relationship everyone yearned for, yet not many got to enjoy. It was a love that was never broken, and one that was never misused. It was the knowledge of never being alone, and knowledge that you never had to fall, because there would always be someone to catch you. More importantly, it was knowing that even if you did fall, and if you fell as far as rock bottom, he would wait beside you until you were back on your feet. You loved Jake for many things, but his support was unlike anything else. He always let you feel your way, figure it out yourself before he tried to fix it for you. He encouraged you to stand, rather than picking you up. It allowed you to learn, to make mistakes you needed to, but you never had to do it alone.
Jake Kiszka was the kind of person everyone wanted in their life, and you were the one lucky enough to have him around. It was a constant reminder to appreciate him, but it was also a constant question of what you ever did to deserve him.
The love carried you through to the very end of senior year, and all the way to a bittersweet goodbye. All of the support you had given to each other encouraged you enough to follow your dreams. The only downside was that your dreams could not happen overnight, and you could not complete them alongside each other. You loved each other so much that it forced you away from each other, but you both knew that staying together in fear of losing would only make you lose even more.
With teary eyes, he stood outside your car that was packed with your whole life, holding you in his arms until the very last second. With a kiss on the head, he sent you across the country with a reminder that he would always be your biggest fan, even if he was not there to tell you. You drove for hours, remembering the sight of the four boys waving you off at the end of your driveway, and did not stop until you landed in front of a dorm room and you were too exhausted to shed another tear.
You drive home on holidays, spending as much time with him as you could, but time was a thief, and you never had as much time as you wanted. Every visit home, and with every road trip across the country he took to see you, things were different. Never love, but life. He was older, his hair longer and his face prettier (how, you did not know). He watched as university tried and failed to beat you down, and you watched as his biggest dreams began to come true. As beautiful as it was, the distance was a killer. You hated seeing him show up at your door, just slightly different than he looked the last time. You were tired of going home and realizing how much had changed.
When you graduated, he was living in Nashville, just signed on by a bigger label and preparing to travel the world. Still, despite his growing popularity and never ending excitement, he never forgot about you. He showed up with a bouquet of flowers and a single suitcase, RSVPing the invitation as soon as he received it. He spent four days with you, laughing and crying, staying up until odd hours of the morning in an attempt to cling to the memory just a little longer. He told you he was going to start touring, and that he was scared he would lose you. You laughed and shook your head, knowing you would call and text him every spare minute you had.
Distance tried hard to tear the two of you apart the first time, and was determined to do it the second. Thankfully the two of you were strong enough to withstand it, and you knew that no matter how hard the years tried to change you, one thing remained certain; Jake would always be your best friend, no matter how far away he was.
You settled in Oregon for a few years, working outside with the environmental science degree you had bled for. He continued to travel the world, playing stages for thousands of people and releasing music he’d dreamed of writing since he was old enough to walk. You called, texted, and every now and again, visited each other. Life was good, simple and fun, but it didn’t feel right.
You had no idea why it felt that way, until you broke down on the phone with Jake as you confessed how badly you missed him.
That’s when things began to change.
He showed up, 85 hours later and running on zero sleep. With little plans and no real answer to your problems, he appeared at your front door, willing to do anything he could to take away the ache in your chest. It was a night full of tears, both of you drunk off wine and the feeling of being together again. In your bed in a run-down one bedroom apartment, he asked you to move to Nashville. After years of keeping silent, he admitted to how bad it was to be away from you. He offered you a place to stay and help looking for a job, and anything you could ever possibly need so long as you were living in the same city as him.
At first, you laughed.
Three weeks later, he flew back to Oregan with his brothers in tow and helped you pack up your life all over again.
This time, for good.
His brothers flew back to Nashville after the brunt of the work was done, but he stayed so he could drive with you. Standing in the driveway of the apartment complex where you had spent the last two years of your life, things seemed the same as they always did. You and your best friend against the world, ready to face a whole new and exciting chapter. As soon as he got behind the wheel of the car, assuring you he would drive the first half of the way, it was different.
Jake was not your childhood best friend who you shared scraped knees and melting ice cream cones with. He wasn’t the boy who used to play guitar for you in his parents basement, nor was he the one who walked your dog with you on those hot summer days. He was a man who was willing to drop everything in his (extremely) busy life to travel halfway across the country to make you happy. He was a man who was more beautiful than you could remember, and he was a man you were willing to drop your entire life for just to be with him again.
He was the same person, and so were you, but this time, everything changed.
You were in love with him, and so impossibly so that it made your head spin and your stomach sick.
You made a vow to secrecy, knowing if he ever found out, the world would never be the same. Losing him was not something you were ever willing to consider, because he was the only constant you ever had in the ever-changing world. For six months, you bargained with the feelings while sleeping in his spare room (some nights) and ate dinner with him at his kitchen table. Most of the time, especially at the beginning, you fell asleep in his bed while you watched terribly filmed and scripted YouTube documentaries in his bed, and you woke up with his arm slung across your waist and his head buried in your neck. You tried to tell yourself that with time, the fleeting feeling would pass and you would consider yourself ridiculous for ever thinking you felt that way about him, but that time never came. When he left for tour, gone for weeks at a time, you missed him more terribly than you ever had despite living in his home with his memory seared into every corner.
The reunions were sweeter, the hugs longer and the warmth in your heart larger than ever before. It was a dangerous game to play, because it was so hard to keep it to yourself. You knew that if things continued the way they had been going, you’d be forced down on one knee with a ring in your hand, begging for marriage.
So, a reluctant conversation surfaced after the third night in a row you had fallen asleep next to him. It was not the conversation you wanted to have, but it was one you needed to have. You sat him down, telling him with faux happiness that you had enough money to put a down payment on a house a few blocks away. You expected him to rejoice, to celebrate the victory of home ownership with you and jump to help you move out, but he did none of those things. Instead, he forced a tight-lipped smile on his face after he cleared his throat. He gave one, firm nod and reached across the table to grab your hand.
“I didn’t know you were looking.” He said, his sadness equal to a punch in the stomach. “I would have let you live here forever, you know. I never wanted you to move out.”
You had so many questions, ones that you did not know if you wanted an answer to. You looked down at his hand in yours, wondering how you had gotten yourself in such a position. You had fallen for the one person you knew you shouldn’t, and you couldn’t bear the thought of the consequences, which is why you forced yourself to buy the fixer-upper, anyway.
Had you gotten it wrong? Did he feel the same as you did?
You were too cowardly to ask, and a month later, you had enlisted the help of the four boys to renovate a house you weren’t even that keen on living in. With five of you, the work was pretty fast, but that was the worst part of it all. After seeing Jake’s reaction to you telling him you were moving out, you wanted to stay, to drag the renovations out for as long as humanly possible, but you knew they would catch on. Instead of dwelling on all of the things you should have said, you focused on what you were going to have. Luckily, the house renovations were mostly aesthetic, and it was done within a few weeks. By the end of it, you were excited to have something of your own to do whatever you pleased with.
Then, Jake had to suggest a fucking pool.
You were happy, content with having everything finished and being moved in (and more importantly, moved out of his house). Things finally seemed to go back to normal, no waking up next to a boy who made your heart beat a little too fast, and no dinners bordering too close to romance.
But it was boring, and you made the mistake of complaining about it.
“It’ll be a great housewarming gift, y/n.” He said, his arms outstretched as a shit-eating grin encased his (infuriatingly) beautiful face.
“Jacob, I don’t need a pool. Besides, I spent all of my money tearing out the carpet and buying the ‘real’ wooden panel flooring that Sam insisted I needed.” You argued, looking down at the expensive flooring with a scowl on your lips. “Stupid fuckin’ wood.”
“That was your fault for listening to Sam in the first place!” He exclaimed, looking around the empty living room. “And besides, do you even know what a gift is? It means someone gives it to you, because they bought it.”
“You’re not buying me a pool, Jacob Kiszka.”
“You’re right,” he gave a slow nod, looking at the fenced in backyard through the large living room windows. “I’m not going to buy you a pool. I’m going to pay a bunch of men to build one!”
Turns out that building a pool is much more costly than he previously anticipated. You figured he would scrap the idea entirely and just buy you an inflatable kiddie pool on your birthday to keep true to his word. You would have been fine with it —no, you would have been more than happy with it. You weren’t sure you could accept such a grandois show of affection from a man you were trying so hard not to have feelings for, but you knew better than to expect the bare minimum from Jake. In the ten or so years of knowing him, he had never stooped as low as the bare minimum.
So he suggested the two of you do the brunt of the work together, then he would pay someone to do the rest.
The issue was, neither of you had any idea how to build a pool (or start to, for that matter) and that entailed a surplus of quality time that you moved out specifically to avoid.
But, you had never been able to say no to Jake, especially when his eyes grew soft and his bottom lip jutted out into a small pout. Puppy dog eyes were your kryptonite, and from him, you were sure it would be your demise.
After a few weeks of digging up ground and clearing your backyard, the area was finally sufficient to hire someone to finish the job. Not long after that, the concrete was poured and set, and soon enough, what used to be a grassy patch had become a pool that was much more expensive than you ever could have afforded.
“This is too much, Jake. I can never even begin to repay you for this.” You said, a hand on your head as your facial features twisted with stress. It was stunning, inviting, and your favourite part of the entire home, and it was all thanks to him.
“You don’t need to repay me, trouble. I wanted to do it.” He said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into his side. The action made your heart flutter and your stomach fill with butterflies. “Do you know how fun it’s going to be? We can get Sam some arm floaties and Josh a life jacket, then we can have so many pool parties.”
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out at the blue water.
“I ask myself the same thing about you, every day.” His hand on your upper arm tightened ever so slightly as he spoke. “You dropped your entire life to move to Nashville, Y/N, just so we could be together again. Do you have any idea how much that means to me? Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?” You turned your head upwards, looking over his face. His head was already turned down and he seemed to have been staring at you for some time.
“I love you, Jake.” You mumbled, giving him a smile. If only he knew how true the words really were.
“I told you a pool was a great idea, trouble.” Jake said, clearly trying to take your mind off Josh’s teasing. You crossed your arms over your chest, the still-damp material of your bikini top sticking to your dry skin as you did so.
“I’m not going to say it, Jake.” You huffed, standing your ground. He’d been trying to get you to tell him he was right since the day the pool was finished, but you had bit your tongue and held back every time. “Your head is big enough as is. No need for me to inflate your ego even more.”
“Oh, so that’s how you want to be?” He asked, sitting up in his chair. His eyebrows were knitted together as his eyes silently begged you to retract the rude statement.
“That’s how I’m going to be, yeah.” You nodded, unwilling to back down. “What’s it to you?”
“You know, I’ve always been so nice to you, and I’m just supposed to take this abuse?” He continued, making a move to stand. He sat his beer on the table on the opposite side of you, raising to his feet with a slight sway. You could tell the summer heat was mixing with the alcohol in his system, and he was feeling good. In truth, you weren’t far behind him in the drunken race.
“Yeah, I’m just the worst, Jake. I’m so mean to you.” You laughed, looking up at him as he stood over you. His shadow casted a chill over you, making you realize you hadn’t moved from the sun soaked seat in hours.
“You said it, not me.” He said, his hands on his hips as he continued to tower over you. “Are you going to take it back?”
“Fuck no!” You laughed, placing your drink beside you in case he made any sudden moves that caused a spill. “I’m not going to tell you that you were right, and I’m not going to take it back. You have an ego problem, Jacob, and I think it’s time you realized it. You don’t have to be right all of the time.” The sass in your tone was completely humorous, used only to irritate him further.
Even as you two found yourself in a mock-fight, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the picture before you. His sun-kissed skin was glowing under the rays, and his dark hair was tousled perfectly after it had dried from his pool escapades. There was a slight wave to it, and the wind was blowing it away from his face. His shirtless chest was catching your attention, but not nearly as much as the peek of a v-line from his swim trunks, and the patch of hair under his belly button leading to the hem of the fabric. Your heart sped as you remembered what it felt like with his chest pressed to your back and his hand resting on your hip while he was sleeping away the earliest hours of the morning.
Either he did not notice your staring, or he did and he opted not to call you out on it. You were happy either way, because not even being caught staring at Jake was an embarrassment anymore. It happened so often that you felt odd when your eyes weren’t on him. Before you could digest his eyes on you in the same way, he was leaning down with outstretched arms. With ease, one of his arms slid around your lower back. He shifted to the side, hooking his other arm under your thighs. With a swift motion, he lifted you off the chair. You let out a shriek of discontent, knowing exactly where his mind was as he straightened himself up. Now that he was holding you, he seemed all the more steady on his feet, almost as if he was terrified to drop you.
“Jacob Kiszka, do not throw me in that pool or I swear to god—“
“Or what?” He mocked you, cutting you off as he took two steps away from the chair. Your arms slung around his neck, holding on tightly as he clambered closer to the poolside. “What are you gonna do, trouble?”
“I don’t know, but it won’t be good!” You fought against his hold, trying to shake out of his grasp and land back on your feet.
“Oh, I’m so scared!” He laughed, his feet now at the very edge of the pool. “Say it, trouble! Last chance!”
“Never!” You fought back, feeling your body already tense in anticipation of the cold water on your skin.
“Throw her, Jake!” Josh cheered in the background, lingering in the deep end by the side so he avoided the splash zone. He was laughing at the sight of the two of you, always amidst some kind of argument. Jake looked over his shoulder at his brother, smirking at the encouragement.
Josh had a knowing look in his eye, his feelings completely unspoken but apparent to the boy standing over the pool. He knew, just as well as Danny and Sam did. Even as Jake tried to play it cool, and as you deflected every accusation, love completely surrounded the two of you wherever you went.
“Josh, what the hell! You’re supposed to be on my side!” You pleaded, frantic for someone to stop him before he let go.
“Do it, Jake!” Danny yelled over the sound of your voice, laughing as he watched your head whip towards him.
“You guys fucking suck-“ before you could finish your angry sentiments, you felt Jake’s arms move upwards. You took in a sharp breath, holding it as you prepared yourself for him to follow through with throwing you in the water.
But, you had always been the one to get the last laugh.
As he tossed you forward, you tightened your arms around him. As your body pulled away from his, your arms stayed locked behind him, causing him to stumble with the force he’d thrown you with. You heard a laugh leave his lips as your ass touched the surface of the pool, and not long after you were fully submerged in the water. You were barely able to contain your laughter when Jake fell into the water on top of you. When you swam to the surface, you noticed that he did not join you. You looked down into the water, nervous that you might have hurt him, but you did not have to think of it for very long; his hands reached for your thighs as he swam towards you, and with one strong motion, he pulled you back under the water again.
Smiling and holding your breath, you tried your best to fight his hold. After a few seconds of a futile attempt, he loosened his grip and the both of you resurfaced. With his arms still around you and his hair covering his face, he guided you towards the shallow end before he pulled you into his chest. His breathing was ragged, still recovering from the minutes underwater. You relaxed against him, finding yourself breathless for a whole different reason.
“Good one, trouble.” He muttered, pushing his hair away from his face. The water droplets streaming down his cheeks only made him all the more inviting, and his hand on your barely clothed hip was driving you crazy. He reached out, brushing the stray hairs away from your face, in no hurry to move away from you.
“The pool was a good idea, Jake.” You whispered, smiling at him. His lips parted slightly as he tried to process what you were saying to him, and after a few seconds, you saw his eye twitch as he held back a grin.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He said, turning his head to the side so his ear was closer to your mouth.
“Don’t make me say it again.” You groaned, but you were still smiling despite your annoyance.
“Just one more time?” He pleaded, his fingers tightening on your hip as he asked. It was absent minded, almost as if it was natural for him to touch you so intimately. He didn’t even seem to think twice about it, and he certainly didn’t seem keen on breaking the hold.
“Fine,” you huffed, unable to deny the man of anything he asked for. “You were right about the pool.”
“Sorry, trouble. Can you speak up? I really can’t hear you.” He said, a laugh stuck in his throat as he continued the bit.
“Oh, fuck you, Jake.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes at him.
“—I’m not paying a delivery fee when I have two working legs!” Your attention was drawn to the poolside yet again, and as you looked past Jake to see what the commotion was about, you could have sworn you felt Jake move to be just a little bit closer to you. “Can you think? Do you ever use your head?” Sam continued, flicking Josh on the forehead to solidify his stance on the matter. Josh swatted his hand away, clearly annoyed with his actions but trying to keep his composure.
“Ten dollars is really going to kill you? Ten fucking dollars?” Josh fought back, his eyebrows knitted together similar to how Jake’s looked when he was upset. Jake turned fully, sliding his arm around you so he did not have to lose contact while he watched his brothers argue. You couldn’t help but feel the familiar swarm of butterflies overtake your stomach once again.
“Maybe it is, ‘cause it’s ten dollars I don’t have to spend!”
“You’re cheap, Sam.” Josh responded, his lips turning down into a frown.
“It’s okay. We can walk, it’s not that far.” Daniel said, breaking the tension with a hand on both of their shoulders. “We can stop at the corner store and grab another case of beer on the way back.” Danny offered. “They won’t deliver that, anyway.” With a huff through his nose, Josh eventually gave a nod.
“Fine, we can walk, but that’s not my point.” He said, stepping away from the two to grab his wallet and his shirt. “You know I’m right, you just won’t admit it.” He pointed a finger at Sam, his tone grave.
“God, you two really are twins.” You whispered, looking sideways at Jake.
“What can I say? We’re stubborn.” Jake gave a slight shrug of his shoulder.
“That’s putting it lightly.” You giggled, turning back to the three standing together.
“We’re going to get pizza,” Josh announced. “And we’re walking, because ten dollars split five ways is just too much for Sam.” You stifled a laugh, biting down on the inside of your lip so you did not further the tension in the air. “And we’re going to the gas station, I guess. Care to join?” Josh asked, looking suspiciously between the two of you. You glanced at Jake, waiting for him to answer first. When he realized all three of them were staring at you, he slowly removed his arm from your waist.
“No, I’ll stay, I think.” He cleared his throat, looking at you as he awaited your response.
“Yeah, me too.” You nodded, forcing a small smile despite your anxiety about the situation you’d found yourselves in.
“Figures.” Josh gave a cheeky smile, slipping his shirt over his head. “We’ll be back, please don’t forget that.” He continued as the other two boys stepped towards the fence gate. You felt your cheeks burn, looking down towards the water to avoid the staring. “You guys want anything? As long as Sam doesn’t deem it too expensive to buy?”
“Shove it, Josh.” Sam muttered, unlatching the metal lock as he pushed open the wooden door. “Be back soon!” He called over his shoulder as the other two followed him out. When the gate slammed closed, the lock clicked itself shut, sealing the two of you alone inside your backyard.
You shook your head, chuckling at the scene that had just unfolded before looking over to your best friend, who already seemed to find himself staring at you. Without a word, you took a few steps forward in the water, reaching out for the floatie Sam had abandoned when pizza was mentioned. Jake followed closely behind you, likely scheming another way to disrupt your day of relaxation. You pulled the brightly coloured tube towards you, steadying yourself as you centered it with your body. With one strong push, you pulled yourself up out of the water and lurched forward, heaving a sigh of relief as you landed on the tube. You turned around, careful not to fall off, and settled your ass in the middle. With a small smile, you relaxed and let your arms hang over the side, your fingers grazing the surface of the water as you looked up at the sky.
Jake was beside you, smiling to himself as he watched you. “You look comfortable.” He noted, propping his arms on the side of the floatie and resting his chin on it as he gazed up at your face.
“I am.” You agreed, looking at him through the corner of your eye. “And I’d like to stay that way, if you don’t mind.”
“You always think the worst of me, sweetheart.” He laughed quietly to himself, seemingly lost in thought about something other than the topic at hand. “Do you remember the year we bought that cheap inflatable pool? We put it in your backyard and sat in it all summer.”
“Yeah,” you laughed at the thought, closing your eyes as you recalled the memory. “It was that summer before senior year. My car broke down on the way to Walmart. Took us all damn day to even get the thing.”
“We got it though, after Josh came to the rescue.” He reminded you.
“That pool was like four feet wide, max. I have no idea how the two of us even fit in it.” You grinned. “And it looked like a watermelon. The cashier thought we were idiots.”
“Because we are.” He laughed, turning his head to the side so his cheek was laying on his arm and his eyes were stuck on you.
“Yeah, we were.” You nodded, bringing your hand to his face and brushing the stray hairs away from his eyes. You knew you shouldn’t, and that the touch was too intimate for a friendly relationship, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to touch him all of the time and never have to worry about anything else.
“Did you ever think we would end up here, in a real pool, living as sort-of neighbors almost ten years later?” He asked, reminiscing on the years of memories shared between the two of you.
“No.” You shook your head, only telling him a half-truth. You didn’t think you would end up like this, but you had always hoped you would. Actually, you always hoped you would end up like you were months before, living together in the same home, sharing a bed every night. Although you had what you once dreamed of, it wasn’t in the way you wanted it to be. As much as you enjoyed your brief stay at Jake’s house, you knew it was for the best that you left. You couldn’t keep hoping for love when you knew it wasn’t possible. You couldn’t open yourself up to the idea, because you couldn’t stomach the thought of losing him.
“I miss you living with me.” He confessed, his cheeks rosy from the liquor coursing through his veins. He would never have harnessed the courage to admit it sober, but he felt like he needed to get it off his chest, just in case you felt the same. “My bed is weirdly empty without you in it.” You felt frozen in place, his words hitting you much harder than they should have. You didn’t want to speak, fearful that the moment meant more to you than it did to him, so instead you sat, staring at him with parted lips and surprise in your eyes. “Sorry, that was weird. I didn’t mean—“
“S’okay, Jake.” You smiled, letting your hand fall from his face to his bicep. You gave his arm a small squeeze, reassuring him that it was alright. “I miss it too. I think I jumped the gun with buying a house. It’s nice, and I am excited, but it’s lonely, I guess.”
“Why did you leave?” He asked, the words coming out too quick for him to possibly stop them. As you looked over his expression, you realized it was a question he’d been dying to ask since you told him that you were moving out.
“Oh,” you breathed, swallowing hard as you tried to come up with a quick lie. “I, uh, I didn’t want you to get sick of me. I felt bad, like I was a freeloader and you were doing charity work.” You forced a smile on your face, trying to make the situation lighter by joking, but he didn’t seem to take it as such. His eyebrows furrowed, and a flash of pain crossed his eyes.
“You know I would never feel that way, Y/N. I waited for you, you know? Till you were finished school, for when you had a job and you knew what you wanted to do… I waited for you to call me and tell me you wanted to be with me again.” Your heart sped and your stomach sunk. As sweet as the sentiment was, you couldn’t help but feel yourself grow defensive over the idea. He was being far too romantic for a man who never once seemed keen on being more than friends.
“I just… I had to, Jake, okay?” You rushed out, scared he would back you into a corner and make you confess the one thing you wanted to keep secret. The pain on his face made you regret the words immediately, and you knew that fighting was the last thing you wanted to do. “I’m sorry.” You breathed, trying to focus and understand the jumble of words plaguing your brain. You wanted to be honest, to tell the truth, but every time you came close, you thought you might be sick. “I loved living with you, Jake. I think it was the happiest I’ve ever been, but I don’t want you to get sick of me, and I think that being roommates with someone you love so much is a tricky thing. I… losing you would be the worst thing in the whole world.”
“You’re ridiculous, Y/N.” His words were harsh, but his lips were upturned into a smile. “In all of the years I’ve known you, I’ve never been sick of you, and I never will be.” He said, the certainty in his tone making your head spin. “But hey, we got a pool. That has to count for something.” You liked the sound of his words, making it seem like you two were more than best friends. If not a couple, then definitely a team.
“We did get a pool.” You grinned, only slightly guilty that you had such a hard time returning his sweet words.
As always, you were terrified that it would mean something different to him than it did to you.
“You know what the best thing about a pool is?” He asked, his eyes scanning the still surface of the water.
“Hmm?” You hummed, naive to believe his question was innocent.
“It makes it so easy to annoy you.” He answered, giving you no time to register his words before he backed away from the tube and dipped his hands below it. With a strong push, he flipped it over and sent you tumbling into the water again.
You were so shocked at the suddenness of his actions that you forgot to hold your breath, finding yourself choking on water as you forced your way back to the surface. When your head popped back up, you were too busy coughing to notice Jake’s echoing laughter. When he noticed your distress, the amusement disappeared and concern replaced it. He pushed the tube out of the way, swimming towards you as you continued to clear your lungs of any water that remained.
“Hey,” Jake said, now in front of you as he reached out to hold you. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking over your face as you took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, trouble. I was just messing around.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” You nodded, noticing the closeness of his body as his hands lingered on your arms. “You’re a dick.” You snipped, fully recovered as a grin blossomed on your cheeks.
“Seriously, you’re okay?” He disregarded your insult completely, still concerned with your well-being.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on his side under the water to reassure him of the fact. He was so close, so comfortable and alluring. You couldn’t seem to pull yourself away from him, remembering how nice the physical contact felt with him. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to part ways with you, either, his eyes locked with yours and his hands anchored in position.
Instead of dwelling on the yearning of your heart, you took advantage of the moment and used all of the force you could muster to push him. He lost his footing under the pressure and stumbled backwards, his upper half crashing into the water as he sank below the surface with a splash. With a laugh stuck in your throat, you watched him fight his way above water as he suffered through your revenge. When he was back on his feet, there was a fire in his eyes and a devious smile on his face.
“No, Jake, we’re even now.” You pleaded, pointing a finger of warning in his direction as he began to move towards you.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded, clearly in disagreement with you.
“Seriously, stop!” You exclaimed, backing away from him as he closed in on you. Before you could get away, he was in front of you and his hands landed on your hips. In a moment of desperation, you locked your legs around his waist as he lifted you off your feet, cementing the idea in his head that if you went down, he was coming with you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as closely as you could to deter his attack. “I swear to god, Jake, stop!” You let out a shriek of laughter, preparing for his unforgiving nature one last time, but it never came.
Instead, he seemed frozen in place, immobile from the position you had forced upon him. When the adrenaline faded and you understood he was making no further effort to dunk you under the water, your sanity returned and so did your self-awareness. In your desperation to avoid his shenanigans, you had clung to him in such a way that his face was settled on your chest, and your legs wrapped around him so tightly that you had put him in a very compromising position. If that wasn’t enough to embarrass you, your actions not only seemed to cause a short circuit in his brain, but a growing problem in his pants. A problem that was so imminent you could feel it.
You were certain he could feel your heartbeat through your chest as his chin rested on top of your breasts, propped up by the padded material of your bikini top. Your hands tangled in the hair on the back of his neck did not make the scene any less explicit than it already was, and perhaps the worst part of it all was that shame seemed like a far away feeling, covered completely by need for him. For a moment, you weren’t lifelong best friends, nor were you afraid of any consequences. You were a woman consumed with desire for the person below you, and it seemed as though he was a man gone mad. You feared you had the signal mixed up, that you were so lost in your own feelings for him that you were confusing his feelings for you. Then, his hands on your hips slid backwards, cautious and careful as his grip settled on your ass.
You took in a shaky breath, the touch electrifying your entire body. In reaction, without thinking, you shifted downwards on him. Somewhere deep in his chest, a low groan sounded as his fingers tightened on you. The skimpy bikini bottoms left little to the imagination as he pulled you down on him further, his cock pressing against your clothed core. Your eyes fluttered closed, wondering if you were dreaming or if the euphoric feeling of being so close was actually a reality. You turned your head downwards, finding him already looking up at you with an unfamiliar look in his eye. He straightened his upper half, his face lifting from your chest and advancing unusually close to your own. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, and it was driving you close to insanity.
You wanted to taste him, to feel his lips on yours and explore the possibilities that were presenting themselves. You could feel how hard he was, how badly he needed the relief similar to yourself. Your mouth was watering at the idea of feeling him, and you were aching at the fantasy of finally having him in a way you only ever dreamed of.
The tips of his fingers traced the outline of your bikini bottoms, curious and eager to go further. Why wasn’t he pulling away? Why was he letting this go so far without saying a word to stop it? Could he really feel the same way? There were too many questions, and you did not care much for the answer as you lowered your hips on him a little further. As you did so, the friction from the movement gave you a sense of relief. A quiet whine forced its way through your teeth, and you were unable to stop it before it reached his ears.
“Careful, trouble.” He whispered, his voice husky and the vibration of his chest rattling your own. His lips were so close to yours, nearly brushing yours as he moved them to speak. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His tone of voice made it hard to decipher if his statement was a warning or an invitation.
“Who said I can’t finish it?” You challenged, desperate to keep him there for a little while longer. You weren’t ready to give him up just yet.
“You know better.” He said, the words forced like he hated to say it. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why not?” You challenged, your face inching closer to his own as you awaited a proper answer.
“God,” he hissed, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth. “You always make it so fucking hard to do the right thing.” This time, he pulled you down on him, unable to resist the temptation of feeling you on him.
Before you could get to the bottom of his ambiguous words, voices filled the air through the screen door of your kitchen and a rush of fear filled you. The grating sound of the tread on the door against the frame caused you to recoil away from Jake, pushing yourself backwards as if you had never been in the confusing situation at all. As bodies filled the patio, laughing and completely unaware of what they interrupted, you looked to Jake to see what he was thinking. As if it was some kind of sick joke, his face was plastered with undeniable disappointment, and behind his eyes, there was a glimmer of hurt.
You thought you might be sick. Your head was pounding and your stomach was twisted with anxiety. To make matters even worse, you were still aching for relief, aching to be back in his arms with your body pressed against his. Surely there was no way in hell that he wanted it too, and you tried to convince yourself you were crazy for thinking so, but the sadness on his face told you a completely different story. His lack of care about the position and his enjoyment of the moment was obvious, but it was too much to process all at once.
Instead, you decided to pretend that it never happened at all. Of course, it was the most painful thing to do, but in his own words, it was the right thing to do.
“Jesus, what happened? You both look like you saw a ghost.” Josh asked, his voice booming and breaking you both from the storm of emotions consuming you. There was a smile on his lips and clear ignorance to what the group had interrupted. You cleared your throat, shaking the emotions away as you noticed the group had doubled in size since the three had left. The boys partners had been planning on joining after work, but in lieu of the whirlwind of events, the knowledge seemed to slip your mind.
“No, all good.” You assured him, glancing at Jake to see he’d made a quick recovery, too.
“Hope you don’t mind the extra company.” Josh grinned, setting a pizza box down on the patio table.
“No, f’course not. The more the merrier, right?” You forced a smile, but you knew everyone could tell that it wasn’t genuine. You hoped that they didn’t misconstrue the dishonesty behind it, because it had nothing to do with extra bodies surrounding the pool, but rather the boy stuck in there with you.
“Right.” Josh nodded, smiling at his partner beside him. “Come and eat, trouble.” He said, nodding his head to the chairs you and Jake had sat in not long before.
“Yeah, okay.” You breathed, giving a curt nod. “You coming?” You asked Jake, feeling guiltier by the second.
“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice hoarse as his eyes connected with yours. “Just give me a minute.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. Your cheeks burned at his words, realizing what he meant and why he had to stay. “Please?” He pleaded, knowing that having you in the pool beside him was not helping his situation.
“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, nervous as you repeated the same words as earlier. In a rush, you swam towards the ladder and hoisted yourself up. You climbed out of the pool, shuffling towards the group as you tried to pull yourself together. You grabbed a towel from the back of a chair as you approached the group, drying your hands before quickly wiping the water from your limbs. Sam seemed enamored with his partner, barely noticing anything that was happening around them, and Daniel was amidst a painful bout of flirting with the girl he’d been talking to for weeks now. You felt good, confident that nobody was suspicious of you and what happened while they were gone, until your eyes locked with Josh’s.
He cocked his head to the side, a playful smirk on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. Plagued with guilt and embarrassment, you cowered under his stare, giving him all the answer he needed. In true Josh fashion, he couldn’t have cared less about what happened so long as he knew for a fact that something happened. He was selective with his need for gossip, never caring about the details but desperate to know that his suspicions were correct, especially when it came to you and Jake. Thankfully, the intensity of the moment dissipated as people began to fill the chairs around the table. Paper plates were passed around as pizza was served, and Jake had recovered enough to get out of the pool and join the rest of you.
Sam’s girlfriend was in his lap on the chair, and Danny was sitting next to his new fling, taking up two seats. Josh, seeing the opportunity to further his torment of you and Jake, took one of the two remaining chairs and offered it to his boyfriend. Then, he threw a folded towel on the ground and took a seat in front of him, between his legs. With a devilish smile, he looked to you and Jake, awkwardly glancing at the only available seat left with plates of food in your hand.
“You take it, trouble.” Jake said, motioning his head towards the chair. “I’m fine sitting on the ground.”
“No, Jake. You take it.” You shook your head, unwilling to make him sit on the ground after you had hurt his feelings.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” He frowned, too stubborn to take it from you.
“Here’s an idea,” Josh pitched in his two cents, sipping his drink before continuing. “You could both sit on the chair so neither of you have to sit on the ground?” He offered, raising an eyebrow. You shot him a glare, expecting nothing less but hoping to be proven wrong. “What? You guys shared a bed for months, but sitting on his lap is too much?” Josh was desperate for a reaction, desperate for the two of you to fess up about how you felt for each other, and he was playing devils advocate to get his way. “Unless there’s a problem, trouble?” He pushed a little harder, but you stood your ground in hopes of silencing him.
“No, no problem at all, as long as you’re okay with that.” You looked at Jake, who gave a shrug. He knew just as well as you did what his twin brother was trying to do, but arguing with him never got you anywhere.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” He nodded, taking a seat on the chair. He outstretched his arms towards you, inviting you in with great pleasure as if the awkward moment in the pool never happened at all. He had a paper plate clutched in one hand and a beer in the other with a dopey smile on his lips and rosy cheeks. Despite all of the days strange events, you could not seem to refute the fact that he was adorable.
You stepped towards him, careful as you placed your drink on the table. You sat, mindful not to hurt him as you shifted into a comfortable position in his lap. You twisted to the side, throwing both of your legs over his as you leaned back on him. He put his beer bottle into the cup holder in the arm of the chair and hooked his arm around your waist to hold you in position.
“How’s that?” He asked, just loud enough for you to hear.
“Good.” You squeaked, unable to confess how much you truly enjoyed it. He placed his paper plate on your leg, and within seconds, the awkwardness dissolved into nothing.
You ate, laughing at the topics the boys were discussing (and arguing about), pretending like it was just another normal day for you, but your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the incident in the pool. You couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on you, testing his limit as they travelled over your skin. Your mind only wanted to remember how close his face was to yours, his warm breath on your skin and his nose brushing your own. More than that, you couldn’t seem to forget the way he felt underneath you, worked up from the position alone and nothing else. Over and over again the memory of him pulling your hips down on his filled your mind, and it didn’t take long for the incessant ache began between your legs yet again.
Truth be told, it was not the first time the two of you found yourselves in a compromising position—in fact, it happened more often than not, but this time, it seemed intentional. There was no shying away, and both of you seemed content with progressing further had there been no interruptions. Back when you lived with him, finding yourself sleeping in his bed more often than not, compromising positions were the only way you ever started your day. Whether you woke up, your face resting comfortably on his chest and his hand on your hip to hold you in place, or if you were on your side with his chest pressed against your back and his hand nestled under your shirt on your stomach. Closeness was not foreign to you and Jake, and unfortunately, neither was sexual tension.
Most mornings, more so when he found himself as the big spoon, your ass pressed against him did little to help keep things platonic. It was always a struggle to force yourself out of bed, to pretend you didn’t notice a thing so he did not feel ashamed or embarrassed about his own actions, because you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and take care of the problems for him.
In fact, you were certain there was not a problem in the world you wouldn’t take pleasure in solving for him.
But today, you were conscious, both aware of the consequences and uncaring of them. He was willingly holding you there, testing his limits in the process, and he was sad when you pulled away. That was something you did not expect from him, and it was the very thing that was causing all of the overthinking in the first place. Did he really want you, or was he just being a guy, desperately infatuated by a woman no matter who she was? Was his sexual frustration your doing, or a result of a sexual draught he’d been caught in for months? You and Jake had always dated other people, but it usually never extended beyond hookups and talking stages. Since you’d moved in with him, neither of you even bothered to search for a date or a person to bring home after the bar. At first, you thought you were doing it out of respect for him and a dislike for the idea of having sex with someone else in his house, but you quickly understood that it was much more than that.
You didn’t want to date or hookup with anyone, because you wanted to do it with him. It had nothing to do with respect, and everything to do with your feelings towards the one boy you shouldn’t feel that way about.
You were confused, anxious, and worried that the instance might change the dynamic of your friendship, especially if any of your previous questions were answered with something undesirable. You wanted him to want you. You wanted him to love you, in the same undying and relentless way that you loved him, but it was far too much to ask of him. You didn’t want him to sleep with you because he was in a dry spell; you wanted him to sleep with you because he wanted you, rather than just for sex. The longer you thought about it, the more you realized you had been feeling this way for much longer than you ever realized it.
“Y/N?” Jake asked, shaking you slightly. You snapped back to reality by the burning feeling of his palm on your bare thigh. You turned your head towards him, wondering what he wanted and how long you had been zoned out for. You gazed around the circle of friends, realizing that all eyes were on you. The embarrassment began to eat you alive as you mustered out a hum of acknowledgment. “Josh was wondering if you wanted to play Pizza Box.” He repeated, his hand still lingering on your skin.
“Yeah, I love Pizza Box.” You nodded, looking down at his hand. You couldn’t help but think of how good it looked, decorating your leg and holding you as if you were his.
“What’s Pizza Box?” The girl sitting next to Daniel spoke, laughing nervously as Josh began to break down the cardboard box on the table.
“You see, my dear friend, it’s a game of great strategy.” Josh began, shaking off the crumbs onto the concrete.
“It’s a drinking game.” Jake corrected, rolling his eyes at his brother.
“Yes, a drinking game of great strategy!” Josh continued, finding a quarter at the bottom of his bag.
“It’s not, Sierra.” You cut in, reassuring her of the fact. “It’s super random and it’s really fun.”
“Okay,” she breathed a sigh of relief, looking at Danny and giving him a smile. He reached out and placed a hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze.
“There is a science and I will not take any further arguments on the matter.” Josh snipped, fishing around in his bag for a sharpie. You played the game so often that he never left home without one.
“I learned about it at a frat party in my first year at college.” You shut him down once more, enjoying the frustration on his face. “We play it every time we drink. Basically, we’re going to write everyone’s name on the box and circle it. We take turns throwing the quarter, and if it lands on someone’s name, they have to take a drink.” She nodded along, following your instruction carefully. “If it lands in an empty space on the box, the person who threw the quarter gets to write a rule, as big or as small as they’d like, and if the quarter lands on that, we have to do whatever it says.”
“Oh, that’s not too hard, then.”
“No, it’s not, and it’s really fun, I promise.” You smiled. “Be prepared to get drunk, though. There’s a lot of drinking in this one.” You warned. Your eyes turned back to Josh, watching him as he wrote everyone’s name down and tried to keep them the same size. He circled his own name last, then pushed the table to the center of the circle.
“Alright, Lena. You want to start?” Josh asked, looking at Sam’s girlfriend. She gave a nod, holding out her hand. Josh tossed the quarter in her direction. She caught it, focusing for a moment before tossing it down on the table. The coin landed on Sam’s name, almost perfectly in the middle, and she let out a laugh at the sight.
“Hey!” Sam complained, furrowing his eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be on my team!”
“Not a team game, Sammy. Drink up.” You smirked. With a huff and an eye roll, he did as he was told. Lena leaned forward and grabbed the quarter, handing it to the boy sitting on the chair underneath her. He gave it a lazy toss, landing on a blank spot next to Roman’s name. Josh’s boyfriend let out a sigh of relief, knowing he narrowly avoided the sentence to drink.
“Uhm,” Sam hummed aloud, trying his best to think of a rule. “Players who land on the spot can’t swear for the rest of the game. Every time they do, they have to drink. You can write it for me.” Josh nodded, leaning forward and circling the words ‘swearing = drink’. Sierra grabbed the coin, sitting back in her chair as she looked around the board. With a targeted throw, she landed on Danny’s name. Without complaint, he sipped at his beer, then took his own turn.
By the time the circle was complete and Lena was ready to take her turn again, mostly everyone had been sentenced to drink with the exception of you. Now, the group had a pact to shoot for your name. Lena tried, but missed entirely, which came a new rule of ‘boys drink’. Sam missed and hit Jake’s name, and Sierra landed on Josh’s name. Danny made the new rule of ‘girls drink’ to counter Lena, and Roman landed on it when he took his turn. The board filled quickly, now including rules pertaining to shenanigans rather than drinking. Jake added one, stating that if the player landed on it, they had to swim a lap of the pool. Sienna added one in which the player had to attempt at a cartwheel.
The board was filled enough that the rules began to slow, and the fun began. With a reluctant round of clinking beer bottle necks, the boys took a drink. Josh tried (and failed) to do a cartwheel on the grass, and Jake had to swim a lap in the pool, grumbling about his own rules being used against him. When he returned to the chair to sit, you refused to let him back on it, giggling as you reasoned with him.
“I just dried off! It’ll be cold and wet and gross, and it’s starting to get dark out!” You complained, anchoring your hands on the arm of the chair.
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, trouble.” He bargained, sopping wet as he stood before you with his arms crossed over his chest.
“My chair, my rules!” You cried, hooking your legs around the legs of the chair. He chuckled to himself, leaning down and snaking his arms around your midsection.
With ease, he lifted you from your spot, the chair lifting with you. You held on for as long as you could, but eventually had to loosen your grip. It clattered back against the concrete and Jake let out a sigh of relief. He hooked an arm below your knees to hold you bridal-style as he sat back down, placing you on top of him. You tried to scramble away, but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back on him as you shrieked with laughter. Now just as damp as he was, you knew the fight was a fruitless endeavor. You relaxed against him, your skin littered with goosebumps from the chill of the night.
“What was that about your chair?” Jake asked, the vibration of his chest ringing against your back as you leaned against him. His chin was resting on your shoulder, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
“Shut up, Kiszka.” You muttered, mumbling a thanks to Josh as he handed you the coin. The alcohol and laughter did wonders at easing the tension between you and Jake, and you were barely thinking about the pool incident any more. Even as you sat atop of him, closer than usual, things felt normal, and it felt good to know that the situation did not change anything between you.
You tossed the quarter, and it landed on the corner of the box, right atop a little blank space in the corner. You leaned back, turning your head towards Jake so you could whisper something in his ear. He leaned forward, catching on to your intent as he waited to hear what you have to offer.
“I’m thinking skinny dipping?” You whispered, your nose brushing against his cheek as he turned to look at you. At first, he was surprised at your words, his eyes wide and his mind running at a mile a minute, but he looked to the box and quickly realized what you meant. Before he made his misinterpretation too obvious, he gave a nod.
“Good one.” He hummed. You leaned toward, grabbing the marker and writing the words down before encasing it in a circle.
“Ah, so that’s how we’re playing this tonight.” Josh announced, an evil grin taking over his face. At the sound of his words, your stomach plummeted, realizing what you had opened the door to in your moment of mindlessness. “Sounds good to me!”
“What does that mean?!” You whispered to Jake, nervous about what the future held.
“I wouldn’t worry, trouble. It’s just Josh.” He assured you. He had his hand on your hip, holding you close as he reassured you, and it felt good. Almost too good as you tried to bargain with yourself not to cross any boundaries.
The circle went around a few more times, and the night began to take over. The stars glimmered in the black sky and the moonlight casted a white light over the group. You were all long last tipsy, and growing more intense as the game progressed. Roman and Josh had been whispering amongst themselves for the past few turns, clearly planning something grand. Roman carefully aimed when his turn came around, making sure he landed on one of the few empty spaces left.
“Couples kiss.” He said, smiling as Josh reached for the coin. He took his time, and landed on another empty space.
“Singles kiss.” He announced, writing the words much larger than necessary. Your stomach twisted with unease as Josh sat back in his original position, turning his head towards you as he slid the quarter across the table. You gave him a scowl as you reached for it, knowing exactly what he was playing at. Carefully, in hopes of avoiding the biggest circle on the board, you threw the coin. It slid as it landed, making your heart speed, but stopped on Jake’s name.
“Hey,” he complained, a frown on his lips.
“Drink up, buttercup.” You smiled, still too on edge to be relieved. You knew that nobody else would take that much caution in avoiding the space, which made it all the more frustrating for you. Josh had you in stalemate, and he wasn’t backing down until he finished the whole thing.
The circle went around, and with every coin toss, you felt yourself relax into Jake a little bit more. So far, you were in the clear, and you worries began to ease. Perhaps you were a little too comfortable in your assumptions, because when Roman took his turn, his quarter landed suspiciously close to the new rule Josh had added moments before. When Josh took his turn, he was carefully positioned and calculated. As his quarter landed on the board, he tried to keep the frown from forming.
“Couples kiss!” He announced, forcing a fake smile. With that, Josh and Sam both turned to their partners, keeping it sweet and simple. Your turn gave the girls a round of drinks, and as you handed the quarter to Jake, you prayed he would have the same caution as you did. Of course, you couldn’t expect anything from Jake when he was drunk, and as soon as the coin was in his hand, he tossed it without a second thought.
You watched in horror as the coin landed on its side and began an agonizing roll towards the exact spot you wanted to avoid. As if the world was in slow motion, you felt like you could feel every second pass as the coin hit a divot in the box, halting its rapid roll and wobbling in its path. Eventually, it pathetically dropped to its side, and your blood went cold. Below it, the word kiss was covered by the shiny silver, and the only word visible in the circle that surrounded it was the word ‘singles’.
Through his own carelessness, Jake had sealed his own fate, and you knew Josh would never let it go, at least not without a good fight.
what do you guys think will happen in part two ☺️ I can’t wait to hear your thoughts 🤍
#gvf#jake kiszka#greta van fleet#sam kiszka#jake gvf#danny wagner#sam gvf#danny gvf#josh gvf#gvf fic#jake kiszka series#jake kiszka gvf#jake kiszka angst#jake kiszka fluff#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#gvf smut#gvf fluff#gvf angst#gvf fanfiction#greta van fleet angst#greta van fleet fluff#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet smut#builtbybrokenbells#josh kiszka#Daniel gvf#sammy gvf
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Y'know, I think so often of how Spain is this hotpot of multicultural existences throughout history and how utterly fucking insane it is to homogenize it all as "Spanish" when we could be like. Idk. Celebrating how cool and diverse we are. When I was a kid in the south we had a day in school to talk about the different places we all came from, and it's like, IMBEDDED in my brain when a nun and my mom were talking and how my mom said, "Learning a language is never useless. Every language has a value, because every culture has value." It fucking stuck with me.
Saying that euskera or any other language in the peninsula is a Spanish dialect to me feels like fucking cultural genocide at this point.
Kaixo and eskerrik asko for your message! 🧡
Totally agree. Your mother's attitude is a treasure! Sadly in Spain there are many people that don't share her point of view at all and can only respect the people that are, talk, and vote like them.
Spanish nationalists - call it righties or far righties, they're the same - truly believe that Spain and their idea of Spain and Spanishness belong to them. They've kidnapped the anthem and the flag, for example, and I'm sure there are many Spanish lefties who would like to show their support and pride to their homeland, but we all know what wearing a wristband with the Spanish flag or having a Spanish flag on the balcony means. They're theirs. And the government should be theirs, too, that's why they keep on asking to repeat the elections, because they didn't turn out as they wanted to.
And inside their idea of Spain and Spanishness, the usual suspects: just Spanish - with no accent, please, don't be a hillbilly - no dialects or any other language, ffs, a true Spaniard just speaks Spanish and if you don't, you're attacking Spaniards and their culture. Even no Spanish nationalist leader speaks English, because they're SPANIARDS. Male white Spaniards, btw. As Primo de Rivera used to say, Spanish nationalism "is a movement of men". There's a loooot of sexism and homophobia and transphobia in their roots even now. Put God first, but don't touch the Church. And it goes on and on. Just Francoism 2.0, where they want to reach the political elite to benefit from million-euro contracts, commissions, money diversion, etc etc. Let's be honest, most of them don't even believe in what they preach, just want to be put where the money is and start grabbing it.
Coming back to your ask, sorry, Spanish nationalism has always needed an enemy, and what a better enemy that somebody that doesn't speak like they do? Here we come the Basques, and when they got bored of us and couldn't get many votes out of selling how bad we all were, they turned to the Catalans.
Now the Catalan tale seems not very profitable, they side with Israel and call the rest antisemitic.
Tomorrow who knows who the new enemy of Spain and Spanishness will be.
#euskal herria#basque country#pays basque#euskadi#pais vasco#spain#politics#ranting rant#sorry for the rant in your answer#sigh#personal
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Thank You, Clyde
(I could not find the original post. However, this fic is based on the idea that Clyde could mimic Lewis Williams/William Lewis' voice for Alex. Be prepared, it's a bit longer than my normal fics.)
Being on the run allowed time for a lot of thinking. Alex thought about many things; Clyde, Winfrey, Lankmann, Patient 66, the situation they were in, etc. The thing that came with a wave of grief every time they thought about it, was their brother, Lewis Williams.
Lewis was the best little brother that Alex could ask for. They got along well, he was well-behaved, had many friends at school, and tried his hardest to make Alex proud. After the death of their parents, Alex had taken care of Lewis for a few years before his untimely death. Although Alex had seemed put together in that news segment, they were internally shattered to pieces.
His death hurt less now, but sometimes the grief just came around every once in a while to punch them in the gut. It’s been happening more often now since Alex and Clyde were on the run. When they did think about Lewis, Alex wondered what he would think of where they were now; hanging out with the creature that killed him. How fucked up was that? They often thought that Lewis would be rolling in his grave at the thought. Then, they would remember that there was no grave for Lewis or the other children at all.
Alex hadn’t even noticed that they were crying until Clyde loudly cleared its throat. They wiped their eyes furiously, they hadn’t cried about Lewis in months.
Clyde watched the human in mild concern, wondering if being on the run was getting to them. “What are you thinking about?”
“Thinking about my dead brother, Lewis,” Alex sniffled lightly.
Clyde didn’t know how it had never made the connection before. Alex was Lewis William’s older sibling. And Clyde had killed him.
Clyde had never felt any grief or remorse for the ones he had killed until that moment. Clyde never got particularly close with any of the humans he killed, but this situation was different. One of its closest frie- companions had been harmed by his actions. However, it then realized that it would have never met Alex unless he had killed Lewis, so it felt a little less bad. Despite that, Alex was still upset and Clyde did not know how to handle an upset human.
Suddenly, Clyde was hit with an idea.
“You can absolutely say no to this, but I can mimic his voice and create a hallucination of him for you. You could at least talk to him one last time,” Clyde suggested quietly.
“That’s kind of fucked up, but you’d really do that for me?” Alex sniffles again, eyes wet with unshed tears.
Clyde nodded, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Alex hops down from the tree they are hiding in. They knew it was probably unsafe to be so in the open, but they would rather fall to their knees on the ground than fall from the tree. Alex whispers almost inaudibly, “I’m ready.”
Suddenly, a small dirty blond-haired boy appeared in front of Alex. He looked disorientated for a moment before locking onto Alex’s face.
“Allie!” the boy cried, racing toward his older sibling.
“Oh, Lew,” Alex almost choked out a sob. They crouched and held their arms out for a hug for just a moment before realizing they couldn’t do that. As real as Lewis looked, he was just a hallucination. Alex frowned for a half second before smiling again at the young boy.
“Allie, don’t be sad, I’m right here!” Lewis beamed as if that would take all the pain away. He was still in his Halloween costume, Alex noted. They had saved up for Lewis’ Halloween costume and were so excited to take pictures of the boy, but they never got the chance before he was taken. Lewis noticed Alex checking out his costume. “I love my Halloween costume. It must have been a lot of money.”
Alex nodded, “It took me a bit to save up for it, but you had been doing so well in school that I thought you deserved something nice.”
Lewis sits in front of Alex’s crouched form, “You didn’t have to do that, y’know. I’m grateful for all you do for me.”
“I know, bud,” Alex sits down fully. “But, doing special things for you made me feel good because it made you happy. And I love you so much, I would’ve hated to see you upset.”
“I love you, too,” the boy smiled. “But I have to go very soon, my friends are waiting for me.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Friendship is very important,” Alex sighs. “I’m sorry I ended up in this situation, I hope you can forgive me. I just have to survive for now and Clyde is the only way for me to do that. I love you so much, Lewis.”
The boy smiled and tilted his head, “I could never be mad at you. I love you, too, Alex.”
And the boy faded away.
Alex had been holding everything in, so the moment Lewis disappeared, Alex began sobbing. Fat hot tears trickled down their face. Snot clogged their nose, making it hard to breathe. Alex almost threw up. They had worked so hard for that boy. They had struggled with taking care of him while Alex still had to finish high school and work a job to make ends meet. Alex worked so hard and he died.
Clyde hadn’t anticipated such a visceral reaction from Alex. It quickly and not so gracefully landed on the ground and wrapped Alex in a blanket. Alex hardly, if at all, acknowledged the action.
“Shit,” the veldigun sat in front of the human. “Can you hear me, Alex?”
Alex coughed harshly and nodded. “Okay. Uh… everything is fine. Just try to follow my breathing.”
It took several minutes for Alex to calm down. Even as they did, it seemed as though they were dazed and unfocused. The veldigun carefully placed its claws on the blanket covering Alex, hoping that the pressure would ground them. Slowly, they raised their eyes to Clyde’s and spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand,” the veldigun looked confused. “What are you sorry for?”
Alex sighs, “Because you had to see me like this and I used you for something so selfish.”
Clyde removes its claws from Alex’s shoulders. “Eh, I’ve done worse to others. Plus, I’m using you for something selfish, too. Least I could do.”
Alex chuckles mirthlessly, “That doesn’t reassure me… but, thanks for doing what you did, though.”
“Like I said, the least I could do.”
The rest of the day was slow and uneventful. Clyde silently made plans on how to get food for the night while watching over Alex’s sleeping body. It had thought about running off to steal hot chocolate from somebody’s house but decided that he shouldn’t leave the human all alone. Another thing that crossed its mind was to sneak back to Alex’s house to get their scrapbook. It knew it would have to do that soon. Being on the run was difficult for the veldigun and it had no idea how the human would continue to respond to such dire circumstances. Getting the album would put Alex into higher spirits so they could keep surviving, Clyde justified, and not at all about the fact that sometimes it needed to see a smile on Alex’s face.
#dreams of an insomniac#doai#doai sitcom au#alex williams doai#doai clyde#william lewis doai#fanfic#i hope you all enjoy!#this took a while#thank you for being patient
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This is a bit of a loaded question, however curiosity is a stronger beast than lust is
Do any of your characters have, specifically, a rape kink? Or get turned on by the idea of rape?
Gomen I know this isn't a very nice question :(
[Anon, the rape warning is in the blog for a reason, there's no need to apologize because you have crossed no boundaries. However, unlike you, these guys-]
TW: NONCON; Death; Mild dehumanization.
Kalymir. Listen. He just loves to dominate. It's his whole thing. Seeing you fight for your dignity, your body- Tossing everything and anything you can to try and slow this hulking beast, but deep down, he knows you know it's already over. He knows he's going to get his way and your running, screaming, kicking and punching only gets him more excited. Because, to Kalymir, sex is hunting. And you're exceptional prey. Crying, begging for mercy, slumping under him in utter defeat- Growing to worship him in time, all things Kalymir loves. Granted he wouldn't be as brutal to you as he was to past lays who meant nothing to him, the people who ended up shattered and lifeless from the brutality of his desire and the sadism that fuels him. If there wasn't a splatter of blood every single time Kalymir pistoned, then something was wrong.
Vesper. Such a sweetheart he is, so generous in his offerings- Until you recall that Vesper is the Icon of Lust, and lust is sometimes quite ugly. Vesper's violation of your will is subtle, peppered in perfumed pheromones and arousing lilts, suggestions of consent, illusions of desire. You will not deny him, because you cannot, he demands your carnality. Is Vesper capable of outright rape? Yes, that's how he fights, that's how he fulfills the fantasies of rotten people who strike deals with him, and Vesper does get aroused from his own vile actions. Does he prefer to trick you into thinking you want things? Yes, a lot more.
Morell. Another one who loves the hunt. But more than that, Morell is just a little too used to treating humans like a commodity rather than a person. All piggies kind of flail and whine about it, all of you make faces and get temperamental. What does it matter anyway? Play nice and let him make you squeal one last time before you end up on a platter... Although Morell will rape you in a non-lethal manner, he's infantilizing throughout it, trying to soothe you and shushing you, treating it like a dumb animal's tantrum. The damage is fixed with a few kisses and a nice meal, in his eyes.
Vinnel. Oh the sneering sadist. He wants you broken and crying beneath him, trying to hide your face and curl in on yourself, shaking like a leaf. He wants you covered in cuts and begging him to stop. What a pretty, pretty image you'd make, especially if put on display this way. But he's willing to be nice, oh very very nice, you just have to not get on his nerves. Very simple. His attention will still generally happen regardless of you wanting it or not, what changes is the degree to which he'll be relentlessly cruel in his assault. The more you suffer, the more he quakes in pleasure.
Nebul. Your will is secondary and you know this. Consent? No, you're a pet, he determines your consent, the same way he determines your entire routine. Punishments during his training oftentimes involve sexual assault, because it's brilliantly effective in drilling powerlessness into the minds of his victims, and your powerlessness is a drug that makes him feel oh so alive. Nebul likes that no matter how much you try, you're nothing but a puppet to his desires, and you will one day share them in a complementary fashion.
Patches. He feels very guilty about it, not that it makes it any better. It's not very often that it happens, but sometimes his own inability to take initiative or suceed in courting will have Patches erroneously casting his frustrations onto you and fantasies of rape flourish- Arousing him because of how cathartic they feel. Would he act on them? Only as an opportunist. Would Stitches outright rape? Oh yes, you're fucked with that one. Curiously, Patches also has vivid daydreams of you assaulting him, and the more degrading you are in his mind, the more he longs for it in real life.
Santi has enjoyed rape before. He's taken the sexual dignity of others before to make himself feel powerful, and it's something he won't do again. But sometimes, the thought rears its ugly head. Remnants of who he was, paired with a more sinister side of his nature.
Roch. A bit like Patches, he more so fetishizes the possibility of being taken advantage of while he sleeps. Roch enjoys the idea of being touched inappropriately or outright used by someone who stumbles upon him and simply decides to have the soft little imp all to themself. He doesn't tell you outright that you have permission to fuck him in most states, simply hopes that you'll be rotten enough to discard his consent entirely.
Ludwig. Like most wrath demons, rape is at the very least a semi-frequent fantasy. You're very lucky Ludwig happens to have more control over himself than most of his kin, but oh, that doesn't mean you're safe. While he will only harm you further if he has to, Lud does morbidly get off on intimidating you into performing sexual acts for him. Sometimes he doesn't even want penetration, he just wants to see the fear in your eyes while you bare yourself to him, touch yourself, suck him off, or just present and wait for a load on your ass.
Nick. She likes abusing her physical might. Ideally, she won't have to, but if it comes to that, Nicele gets a pretty big kick out of seeing you crumble to her commands. If she barks at you to ride her fingers, then you better. If she pushes your shoulders down and starts grinding her cunt on your face, then you better stay still and take it. Wouldn't want anything to break now, would we? Fear is a beautiful look on you.
Sybastian. Listen, it's a bit genetic in this case. Sybastian's used to snatching people. Careful not to trigger that instinct when he's trying to get frisky with you. It doesn't help that part of mimic sexual foreplay involves surprising their partner with sexual attention, so your initial flailing will only make him more enthusiastic because it signifies he succeeded in shocking you. He finds it fun and stimulating to overwhelm you, which makes gouging consent borderline impossible at times, and there are instances where he simply refuses to let go, therefore assaulting you.
(A lot of other characters are capable of rape but don't necessarily particularly get off on it.)
(Monsters who enjoy rape should not be confused with opportunists, which there are many here. These opportunists would not outright assault someone until the victim is vulnerable enough for the act to be performed, but they would take advantage of situations where they either know that you can't verbalize consent or lack thereof, situations where you may not recognize them, etc...)
Notable opportunists are: Breg; Lacai; Shags; Zizz; Livius; Flints; Jayde; Rinx; Nena; Obie; Belo; Vorago; Glauk; Colmei; Gallon; Fank-e.
#Kalymir oc#Vesper oc#Santi oc#Patches oc#Nebul oc#Stitches oc#demon girlfriendss#Ludwig oc#Roch oc#Sybastian oc#Vinnel oc
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This was for the best, right? (Vil x AFAB Reader)
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Genre: Heavy angst/ No comfort
Pairing: Vil x AFAB Reader & One-sided Rook x AFAB Reader
A/n: Hi! So do you guys recall the idea I had with Vil x Reader angst? So this is it! If you want to know about it first, I’ll link it (here) I hope you like this one, I gave my best effort on this, hopefully, it fits Vil, I love him so much.
Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!
Warning: This is ANGST NO COMFORT! Panic Attacks on Vil’s side, Breakups no reconciliation, misunderstanding and Insecure Vil, relapses of Trauma on Vil’s side, talking bad about Reader’s appearance, although vague it still is there.
!PROCEED WITH CAUTION!
Masterlist
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Sypnosis: Your face got leaked throughout social media when you went to have a date with your boyfriend Vil. It made him hate his reputation; he would understand if people bashed him instead, after all, he wouldn't let those words affect him, he's more worried about you, you're not used to the media watching you, having you be seen with him by paparazzi. He kept thinking of ending things with you to protect you from the backlash.
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He is usually unbothered by the fact that he gains hate often, he plays villainous roles, having to only reach till halfway or even before the story’s conclusion. It was normal for people to threaten him just because his character did something horrible to the main character. At least he is aware of how well he performed in acting by how despised he was. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was you being the one gaining hate.
People are hypocrites, they cuss him out and throw the worst insults they could think of towards him, and at the same time, they view him as a perfect human who deserves someone “better for him”. He didn’t expect that his selfishness would get in the way of his relationship with you just because he wants one normal date outside of school but when one of his paparazzi caught a picture of him with you out on a simple date in Pyroxene. The picture showed your face fully without any filters, those uncouth journalists milking his fame with their horrendous illegal articles; anything to gain a higher footing in their industry than anyone else.
When he found out about the article, you two were cuddling in Pomefiore in his bedroom. He had a separate, massive bedroom since he was the housewarden, watching the film that he was recently cast in. As usual, he was given the role of a villain, it was the same old same old, except this time, the villain won, and it was satisfying to see him reach the end. He didn’t tell you though, so while you lay your head on his shoulder, watching; complimenting his looks and joking about how you’d date him even if he was that crazy.
He loves your little antics, you’re the only one who had an odd mind falling for the roles he has. “You have a peculiar taste for characters sweetheart” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer while you giggled.
“Funny how I’m dating you” You cuddled closer to him, what you said earned you a playful glare. He was about to tickle you as punishment, but his phone suddenly vibrated, showing the name of his manager, he went to kiss your forehead before he untangled himself off you; “Give me a second, I’ll take this call real quick” he informed you which you gave a nod, letting him out of the bedroom and to his bathroom.
"What is it?"He examined himself in the mirror, fixing his hair while his manager spoke, "Vil, check what I sent you, it's a link." Vil glanced at his phone and clicked on the article, wondering what it was, he waited for a bit, and as soon as it finished loading his heart drops.
“Famous actor Vil Schoenheit caught dating!” It was a stupid title, but he didn’t give any thought about It, fearing for the worst he scrolled further, finding your face unblurred on it. “What is the meaning of this?” he frowned, gripping his phone before his manager answered.
“I’m not sure how they found out about the café you and your lover frequent but I’m trying to track down the owner of the article and threaten them with a lawsuit, but with how the media eats up everything, I’m afraid the damage has been done” Vil could hear rustling from the other end his manager taking out which he thinks is paperwork, most likely about the process of lawsuit, he was growing restless as he looked at how many comments and likes did the article gain. He didn’t even notice that his Magicam was being blown up by “fans” questioning him for his taste, and criticizing you.
He was starting to feel chills around his body when he continued to investigate the whole thing, Vil was close to having a panic attack, gripping the edge of the sink. He tried to calm himself down, remembering what his father taught him.
“Deep breath in, deep breath out” he recalled, causing him to loosen his grip a bit and relax. A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts when he faintly hears you from outside.
“Vil? Are you okay? You’re taking a while there” you asked which he straightened himself up, composing himself before looking at his phone, who still had his manager on call. “I’ll have you deal with this; I need to go.” He walked to the door opening it after his manager agreed and ended the call.
“Sorry, it was just a minor nuisance at work” He smiled at you, he was a good actor but when it comes to you sometimes, he can’t seem to lie. “Are you sure? You sounded pretty agitated when I went to check on you” You touched his hand, entangling your fingers with his, which made him sigh.
“it’s…” he hesitated for a moment; does he tell you? He can’t drag you into all of this, he was planning to have it stay hidden till the article was gone, but at the same time, you’re bound to know about it once your friends find out and question you about it.
“Can we talk?” He finally caved in, gazing at you with a mixture of worry in his eyes; how could you say no to that?
When you found out about the article, Vil was worried that you’d be upset at him, not once did your expression change when he was explaining it. He didn’t expect you to smile and kiss his cheek, telling him that “it’s okay, the media will die down on it, at least if they found out, they won’t bat an eye if we go on dates more publicly, right?” you told him.
He was amazed with how well you handled the news; what about the possibility of receiving backlash? No, actually you both were receiving backlash already. “You’ll have to stop using social media for a while and deactivate it just to be safe” he warned you, looking at you for any signs of distress, he was concerned that you were just hiding it, you’re not someone who’s made to handle the eyes of strangers, he thinks you might not even understand what it means to have your face be doxed by media.
"Darling," he said, enveloping you in his embrace, which you gladly returned. He said, "Listen, this is the media we're talking about," stepping back to look directly into your eyes. You'll be receiving insults left and right, and I worry that if your friends choose to drop you because of our reputation, it will negatively impact you. I'm capable of managing myself and safeguarding you from the public eye, but what if this also concerns your friends?" he knew that the possibility of your close friends dropping you for something trivial like this was unlikely to happen but there’s still a possibility.
“If they drop me for something so stupid, I guess they don’t deserve to be my friend,” you said firmly, “Vil, I don’t mind this," You replied firmly, "but it seems like you’re bothered by it” You pointed out, touching his face, it was true, he is bothered by it, he’s scared of the outcome, he’s afraid that every day when you go out in public, people will try to hurt you or coerce you into doing something you don’t like.
“Once the article is down, it’ll fizzle out” You comforted him, noticing that his breathing started getting a bit ragged. Was it really going to stop once that article was taken down? There might be people who saved that article and reposted it.
In the next few days, you two would often just stay within school grounds, Night Raven College is big enough for you two to roam around and have your usual dates; Despite his frequent work schedule and dormitory maintenance, he still made time to have meals with you. During those times, everyone seemed to keep testing his patience, when he was on set, his unprofessional coworkers kept festering him about you, and when outside, he felt restricted, not being able to walk freely without eyes catching him, so he was advised by his manager to use his car to go back to school and work. He kept his social media muted as well; he couldn’t scroll around Magicam cause every article in those past few days has been nothing but hatred towards you.
“That woman looks so average, what the hell did Vil see in her?”
“Honestly, I would even accept if he’s gay for Neige, whenever those two are together they look so cute!”
“She looks like an extra://”
Comment after comment of users trashing your looks, your whole being even without knowing you.
It angers him, so for the sake of his mental health and yours, he made sure that you also kept your social media muted, although often, he saw you scrolling on it, reading the comments, or just chatting with your friends.
He doesn’t understand why you do it, it frustrates him a bit when you do, but he couldn’t tell you to just delete social media entirely, he’s not toxic.
During lunchtime, he was late to meet you, rushing through the cafeteria, he found you with Deuce and Ace, chatting away. He was going to greet you till he heard what Ace said.
“Hey, aren’t you gonna stop this act?” he munched on his egg sandwich while Deuce looked at Ace like he had just grown a second head.
“What the hell are you talking about Ace” Deuce said before Ace glared back at him. “I mean! Being unbothered by whatever nonsense Magicam’s got on. You have your face everywhere and people are talking smack about it!” He pointed out in which, Vil couldn’t even see what your expression was right now. "If I were you, I’d confront him about why his agency hasn't gotten to the bottom of this." Deuce wanted to hit Ace that time, but it was true, both your friends were confused as to why it continued to circulate.
“You don’t have to listen to Ace” Deuce paused, not knowing where this could possibly lead to what he meant. “It’s okay, I understand the concern.” You voiced out, placing the fork down, fiddling with your fingers, “It does affect me, but It’s not Vil’s fault that It got way out of hand.”
Vil frowned, hearing that, so it did affect you, why didn’t you tell him? Was it because of his incompetence? He thought about how many times you told him that it was okay, that you didn’t mind it. He knew that the article was stupid, but the evidence was evidence to journalists, and that caused you to be in the middle of the crossfire between him and his “fans”.
Was it worth sacrificing your peace dating him? He smiled bitterly to himself, how stupid of him to have these kinds of thoughts. He looked at his phone, he was going to send you a message that he was in the cafeteria but decided to go against it.
“I don’t think I can make it. You can go eat.” He sent the message before leaving the cafeteria and going back to the dormitory, he needed some time for himself.
When he reached his living quarters, he sat down on his bed, noticing the way the curtains were covering any light coming inside. It was like the state of his mind currently, he didn’t feel like doing his daily routine today, which is funny, if he didn’t push himself to keep a perfect image, he would be nothing but average; but if he did look average, would that give both of you the pleasure of living a normal life?
He scoffed to himself, he can’t just throw his career away, he needs it for your future; both your futures, he stood up, grabbing all the necessary cream, face powder, and other stuff for his face, but the moment he saw himself, looking tired, he stiffened up. Will there be a future where the two of you would be together?
Vil didn’t realize that he started to avoid you. His bedroom was inaccessible, you would knock on his door, but he wouldn’t confront you. Staying silent and just waiting till the knocking subsided and you were out.
He still showed up to needed House warden meetings, or event planning, he did his duties as usual, he just didn’t do his duties being your boyfriend.
It was as if his insecurities when he was younger were relapsing whenever he thought of talking with you, was it okay to talk to you right now? He still thinks it’s not the right timing. He isn’t his usual self right now and he doesn’t want to risk doing anything bad.
However, it breaks his heart to see the sorrow in your eyes when you meet him and to see him neglect you. He was aware that the distance between you and his unwillingness to communicate about the situation was making your relationship unstable.
After three days of no contact, he was on top of Pomefiore’s garden, he missed you dearly, he gazed down to see his dormmates having tea under the recently renovated garden, then he noticed someone familiar within the garden, focusing his eyes on it, it was you! You looked… happy?
That was the smile that you usually only reserve for him, what’s going on? Vil thought to himself, confused as he ripped his eyes off you, only to notice Rook Hunt, touching you the way you would with a lover, giving you a gaze he never saw from Rook, but he knew what that was.
Rook liked you, both of them did, but he decided to step down in favor of letting Vil court you. He knew that feelings would never fade that easily but he didn't expect to see this sight. You two looked so perfect for each other, his hand touching yours as if you were having the time of your life, even without him. He clawed the railing of the balcony, not feeling his fingernails scrape the paint off of it, his eyes blurring as he walked away, fearing that he might fall if he ever passed out. His heartbeats were the only sound he could hear, aside from the static his ears were hearing.
“Breathe.”
He fell back into his bedroom, feeling his whole body shiver as he grips on his arm, numb to the pain that his nails were digging into his flesh. Cold sweat trickled down his face, he didn’t know if he was even breathing or not, his brain foggy, like an impending doom was going to happen if he once tried to “breathe.”
Vil ended up passing out, and unfortunately, the moment he woke up, it was already 5 am, he jolted awake, standing up, hearing a continuous knock from his door, He flinched as his head throbbed, touching it gently to try to ease his headache, he moved to the door, opening it, not expecting to see the person he least wants to see.
“Roi de Poison” Rook greets him, smiling brightly at him, Irritating. “I noticed you haven’t gotten up and gone to work yet, did you take a sick leave?” Rook continued, his voice filled with worry, he was about to fix the hair covering Vil’s face when he got his hand slapped away, startling him, he noticed the way Vil’s eyes darkened a bit.
“I’m fine” Vil affirmed, groaning a bit, he pinched the bridge of his nose as another headache hit his head again. “I’ll get ready, for the meantime, please take care of the dorm in my absence” He continued, replying curtly as he slammed the door shut before Rook could even say anything, He was sure that Rook would do as he says, if he didn’t, he’ll find a new vice housewarden.
Vil was already late for work, his disheveled look was barely noticeable but his manager noticed the slight imperfection in it. She walked up to him, fixing the sleeves of his outfit. “You’re late Mr. Schoenheit” She buttoned the sleeves, waiting for a response from Vil, who just sighed, “I apologize, something came up, can we start?”
You were getting worried, Rook went to your dorm, telling you about the state of Vil and that he was worse for wear, you decided that this time, you were going to visit and you were going to talk to him even if he didn't want to. It’s been dragging on for too long—the avoidance of your lover and the media is hurting you. You need to do something before your relationship reaches a breaking point.
When you arrived at the modeling agency where Vil works, you were graciously allowed in. You were familiar to those at the agency; some supported you, while others did not. However, the only support you needed was Vil's.
The moment you stepped inside the photoshoot, you saw Vil, working with another model, he looked gorgeous as always, although it seemed that he was tired; it was unusual for him to be in a state where it was obvious.
The manager noticed you before she ushered you further in, just to get nearer where Vil could see you, and Vil froze, stopping the shooting when he saw your face.
“I’m going to take a break,” he said to the crew members, seeing you, his gaze remained unfazed, “Let’s talk on the lounge” he murmured, walking past you.
You didn’t know what else to do but follow him, understanding that Vil wasn’t feeling well. The moment the two of you were alone, he went to give you apple juice, the one that Epel’s family sells, you give a gentle smile to him, but he didn’t reciprocate. It made your heart ache.
“What do you need?” he asked, sitting down on the opposite side of you. Reluctant to look at him, you fixed your gaze on the apple juice. “Are you feeling alright?” you asked, which made Vil chuckle, “That’s a funny question Y/n”
“I just wanted to know, You’ve been avoiding me for a while and-“You were cut off by Vil who placed the half-empty apple juice on the table. “I just needed some time to think, plus we agreed to lay low” He answered, which frustrated you “Vil, I heard from Rook that you turned up late during work" you were feeling nervous, and for the first time, your lover made you uneasy. "that never happened before,” you said, wanting to touch his hand, but he pulled it away, his eyes showing a trace of betrayal.
“What?” he asked, heart breaking as he looked at you, “Rook told you?”
“Of course he did, he’s a close friend of yours!” you protested, feeling a sense of desperation when Vil kept rejecting you, for the past few weeks, or months? You don’t know, but it’s been so long since you two last saw each other and stared at each other for more than just a glance, now you’re on the receiving end of his glare?
“You…” Vil murmured, before he finally let his body relax, his expression turning soft. “I think we should break things off.”
“What?” you gasped, gripping on the apple juice a little bit too hard, “Vil- “
“Why?”
Why? Vil wanted to answer why, there were plenty of reasons why, you two were just way too different, and the fact that if he pursued this relationship further, it’d hurt both of you more. It was clear that Rook liked you and you liked Rook, what is there to continue this relationship? Plus, the media will continue to see you as inferior, this will continue for a lifetime, and no matter what he can’t see why and how your relationship with him will continue without it getting toxic. He finally understood that he is way too much for you, his feelings would slowly wrap you around vines that contain poison, HIS poison. He was thinking of the future, and he can’t see it going beyond the challenges you two face.
He eventually responded, "I lost interest, I’m sorry, we both should focus on our careers first” He lied, not looking at you as well, you both were too hurt to even gaze at each other. You didn’t move or talk, so he decided to stand up, fixing his attire and looking cold. “I’ll be leaving now, hopefully, we can put this all behind us, I’ll have a taxi be ready to get you home when you’re ready.” he said, his heart aching, he wanted to hold you, but he stopped himself, “Just talk to the manager when you plan to leave” he continued, turning around before leaving the lounge.
The moment you left, the manager went up to him excitedly, he didn’t feel like celebrating at all when he found out that they tracked down who the journalist is and are now filing a lawsuit against them; at least on a positive note, you were out of the picture, out of the prying eyes of the media.
This was for the best, he thought to himself, feeling numb while he felt his chest tighten when he went back to work.
Word Count: 3418
#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#angst#vil twst#vil x reader#vil x mc#vil x yuu#vil shoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit#angst no comfort#angst no happy ending#rook x mc#rook x reader#twst rook#rook hunt
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so for Marenrow: City of Secrets (my custom magic set), wren and i have made all of the two-color signpost draft uncommons except two (18 total!). the final two to make are for the white/blue draft archetype, and have proven themselves the most difficult to make, because the archetype is such a novel idea. id like to explain the archetype and how it would work in this post, and maybe anybody that is so inclined could think of and share ideas for the cards or tell me their opinion on the archetype itself :)
so the red/blue and white/blue color pairs are "working together" in my set; they are two separate groups of scientists and wealthy nobles/politicians respectively, and the scientists control the nobles (the red/blue group is in charge of the white/blue group, in essence). the theme of the red/blue group in Marenrow is flipping coins for value, and so i think it would be cool for the white/blue group, their followers, to flip coins too.
so, the white/blue group's archetype is "flipping coins to determine two related outcomes on their cards", or what in my head i refer to as "coin control". this means that every white/blue instant and sorcery has "flip a coin" before its text, and could do one of two different things based on the outcome. furthermore, white/blue creatures would have "when this enters the battlefield, flip a coin" and would do different things based on the outcome too. for permanents, it doesnt necessarily have to be an enter-the-battlefield thing, and could instead be on like, attack triggers, card draw, maybe two different static abilities and only one is activated at all times based on the initial flip, stuff like that.
the idea here is that for the two modes, one is usually interaction, and the other is usually value. or to generalize further, when you win the flip, it should harm your opponents, and when you lose the flip, it should help you. the idea here is that both modes are good, and this creates a novel form of card compaction; every card is both an interaction piece and a value piece, but you cant control which half you get. the random nature will be hopefully offset by the cards being generally strong, so either way you get good solid results when you cast the card most of the time.
this differs from the red/blue archetype, because red/blue will flip coins more often, will care more about winning flips rather than getting value from win or lose, and notably has cards with triggered abilities that trigger when coins are flipped or when coin flips are won, which specifically wont be the case for white/blue. white/blue does not care about the coin flips themselves, it just uses them as pure card compaction, while red/blue's entire thing is cards that trigger when coins are flipped.
heres the main question: is this a good idea? does this sound like a fun, interesting, and novel archetype of deck to play? furthermore, is this too similar to the red/blue archetype? are they not unique enough? id love some opinions on this. the answer is obviously "make some cards and try it out" but like. vibes alone, does this sound interesting, fun, and valuable enough to make cards for, or should i change it somehow, or scrap it altogether for a different concept?
furthermore, id love if anyone shared any ideas they might have for cards if theyre so inclined! the cards would be templated something like "flip a coin. if you won, [interact with you opponent]. if you lost, [do value (make tokens, gain life, draw cards, untap permanents, etc etc etc)]." to make the cards fun and cohesive, the cards should probably have related abilities for each mode, ie "if you won, tap two permanents an opponent controls" and "if you lost, untap two permanents you control" yknow something in that flavor and vibe. im blanking a little on ideas for cards, so if anyone is so inclined to share their thoughts, id love to hear it! most suggestions for the set have made it into the current product or future plans in one way or another, so its very worthwhile :)
thank you for reading my big long ramble teehee im glad to finally have put a lot of these thoughts into words
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Have you had any ✨Ghost Experiences✨ in Scotland yet? Meet any new ghosts???
Ohhhh plenty, but far too many to list without going off on a ramble haha
We’ve done many overnights in castles and old buildings up and down the UK with a team of investigators which has led to really neat experiences, some of them absolutely poignant. I think my favourite interaction has been with a sweetheart of a young seaman called William aboard the RRS Discovery docked in Dundee, also the best K2 session I’ve ever had was there. But yeah, various castles, historic buildings, manors, prisons, etc with some really fascinating results.
I do like how it’s also putting the mediumship to the test which is something I still don’t really like bringing up in general to people but I have apparently shocked investigators/employees at these places with describing events, people, and other things with detail that is not even public or only known privately by people who frequent that location. Nearly all locations I’ve never been to and make a point not to read up on them before I go, which makes these instances more compelling? I often don’t even know the significance of what I’m (sheepishly) describing only to be told I just described a specific thing that happened in a room when there’s no way I could know about said thing. One of the best instances of this was on the RRS Discovery when trailing behind the group in the lower decks, I stopped suddenly. It felt as though something SMACKED very hard and very sudden right where I was standing, someone had lost their life in this very spot. I thought with the boilers around perhaps someone had been hit somehow and died or maybe fallen from the above platform and hit their head on the metal below but was told there were no known records of someone dying in that room and that the platforms didn’t exist at the time. I was perplexed by this as I was 100% sure something had happened there but I just ignored it, maybe I was wrong. We get up to the top deck finally and are told about a boy who, in 1901, tragically fell from the crows nest and died. The investigator and I suddenly realised I had been standing directly below the spot he would have hit on the upper deck when he fell. Another would be a nice young man I’d encountered at a private castle who seemed to be wearing some sort of chainmail and white tunic, followed me around for most of the night, and at one point I picked up on a story about a strange looking gold disc with all these markings on it on the alter in the chapel which he immediately told me not to ask about and refused to elaborate more, I had no idea why he was so adamant about this. I later learned after enquiry the castle historians have documented the place being used by the Templars and it’s a private fact at this location that the Templars have buried artefacts beneath the castle they are working to recover… most notably, beneath the chapel. I’d be talking for ages if I described the other occurrences, but that’s one I’ll always remember!
All and all, I do actually recommend doing it, even if you don’t believe in the stuff, because you get entire historic locations basically all to yourself, at night, which is cooler. I once sat for nearly an hour in a 200 year old jail on the floor, in the dark, at 2 AM, just chilling. On free roam while everyone is usually at base, I’ve been able to explore places by myself, in the dark, opening doors to rooms not even shown to us, panning my torch to old paintings and artefacts in basements to attics and bedrooms and so much more. I’ve sat alone in century old ships and played sea shanties which echoed hauntingly down the passageways. Sprawled out in the pews of medieval chapels in the pitch dark, wandered dark castle corridors alone, sometimes I’ll sing out old songs and just listen to it drift out through the halls and rooms. You feel like some character in a novel, it’s quite a liminal space! Like all these places where so many other people came before you, where people lived and died, sometimes even right where you’re sitting, and you’re able to lay out on the stones in the dark with it all and just feel connected to it yk?
Anyway that still ended up being a ramble HAHA so yeah! I recommend it for both believers and those less inclined because at the end of the day, you’ve basically got several hours of private access to historical locations, at night, no tourists, and sometimes to places the public isn’t allowed at all, and hey maybe something Strange will happen while you’re alone in the darkness.
#can I just say too there is something so hauntingly beautiful about the alone time on my free roams#like usually these places get locked up at night or you’re limited by opening hours and tight your schedules and roped off areas#but when I’m alone on these things you get near unrestricted access in some of these places#and you’re just alone in the quiet where some people used to laugh or lost their lives#like I cannot explain how—even in a non paranormal way—you feel a new connection to the past#without the distractions of the day and ropes and time and tourists and noise#it’s just you and everything that has come before you#and you’re like wow we are all humans in this together huh#asks#paranormal#long post
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wait whats wrong with poodle mixes?
doodle fans are known for not caring about genetic screenings or breeding based on temperament, and even more commonly just crossing poodles with breeds distant enough that the outcome is too wide a spectrum to reliably predict.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with doodles themselves in a vacuum, but they’re a fad “designer dog” breed right now. Greeders (greedy breeders) make all sorts of lofty promises to first-time dog owners. They claim every doodle is hypoallergenic (they aren’t) and doesn’t shed (they absolutely shed). They say they’re the perfect lovable family dog (that really depends on training and hoping the greeder didn’t breed a child-aggressive dog). They say they’re easy to train (not inherently, poodles tend to train easy but that doesn’t mean the mutt produced when crossing them with any other breed will be). They say they’re low maintenance (doodles typically have coats that mat VERY easily and must be brushed thoroughly 1-2 times daily, I have never seen a doodle keeper actually do this and if you see doodles in public or online they’re often matted from toe to tip, then yeh owner complains when a groomer has to literally shave the entire dog to get it free of mats).
Doodles are just genuinely a scam. It’s not the fault of the dogs, and a doodle has just as much capability to be an excellent companion dog as any other mutt, but they rarely get that chance because they’re bought on impulse to keep up with the growing fad. The greeders producing them are con artists who intentionally target first-time and uneducated dog owners because they’re an easier mark. Since they give poor advice to clients, many of these clients have no idea how to train their dogs or how to deal with socialization and behavior issues as they arise. That’s where you get the completely neurotic nightmares vets and pet groomers think about when they hear a doodle has an appointment.
Doodles also attract the most annoying elitist white women on the planet who will try to gun you down for saying poodle mix or mutt instead of doodle.
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Hi hello, I love your art so much LIKE MY BROTHER. IT'S SO YUMMY, THE SHADOWS THE EXPRESSIONS, I love how you draw Timur , Felwinter and Osiris together 🙏 little bird with his two funky adoptive parents. I stare at your art like , I'm always ready and hyped to give traditional art another try ✨
If I was to go back, any tips for which watercolours to pick? I so far got only aniline colours.
Aah, thank you so much!! 😳💙
Hmmm, the thing is, I use fountain pen inks almost always for painting. I don't use watercolour much, so I can't really suggest anything in particular… I have a selection of colours from different brands, of course, I know quite a lot about pigments, and I like using watercolour from time to time to add some special effects to my works. For sketching outdoors it's also the easiest to use among all other paints, probably. But painting a whole artwork with it……… I try doing it sometimes, but every single time I end up thinking "God, I wish I used inks instead, I hate this so much, why is it so BLEURGH". I guess watercolour just isn't my medium 😂
I can share my thinking process when building up a palette though, I use it with all mixable mediums I use, be it inks, watercolour, gouache, etc. I found it to be the most effective (and money-saving, lol) approach for me.
So what I want for my main mixing palette is to have 3 sets of primary trios. All colours also must be as smooth as possible, with no surprises or unwanted colour separation. For watercolour - not granulating ones.
(my camera tends to make all colours brighter and also fails to see the subtle difference between some shades, but you can still get the idea)
The first trio is extremely vivid, consisting of bright cool colours - lemon yellow, cyan, magenta-leaning pink. It gives you access to all the bright, open colours.
Second is the classic they teach in all art schools (probably, from what I've heard, I never went into one alkjdshfk) - sunshine yellow, bright warm red and ultramarine blue. This gives you a huge selection of warmer, natural colours, like all shades of golds, eggplant purples, olive greens, etc. It also allows some nice selection of wood browns.
Third is my personal favorite, the muted trio. You kinda can get similar colours from the previous trio, but I prefer having these separately, because of how often I use them all. It consists of golden ochre-leaning yellow, dark bloody red and dark indanthrone blue. It gives you the most beautiful browns, beiges, blacks and other rich, deep colours.
On top of that I also like to have at least one decent black (in my case it's Quink Black ink, I cannot live without it). And these 10 would be my essentials. Other colours I add to my mixing palette are basically shortcuts to the shades I find myself mixing the most - like a few browns and violets. There are also a few inks that I need for some very specific purposes - like, I have a very vivid cold magenta ink to mix a certain bright cold shade of the Void, and also a fluorescent orange for adding shiny Exo LED lights. And etc.
(Actually I'm currently in the process of re-organizing my main palette and also considering making a few small sets for painting some characters specifically)
I also have a separate selection of chromatographic inks, which can probably be compared to granulating watercolours… But not quite. A few examples:
Here I don't have any special notes or advices, just get the ink you like and enjoy it. Some of these I use so often that I always keep them in my main palette, and others I only get out for some special occasion. These are also mixable btw - I constantly add other ink in Quink Black to get different shades of it.
However, I must say that not all of the ~special effects~ inks are polite and well-behaved, some will agree to work only on some specific paper after a significant amount of coaxing, and others will straight out say "fuck you" at the most crucial moment, even if they worked perfectly just a moment ago.
Btw, when working with inks, I really recommend to put it into smaller bottles with a dropper, so you don't have to open the big bottle each time. It's both easier to use for you and much safer for inks!
ANYWAY, I hope this post was of some use for you 🌈
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I want to say I love reading your headcanons, especially your Iterator ones. Do you have a unique headcanons for Pebbles, since you haven't talked about him much?
Ohhh, I'm so glad to hear that!! I love creating and typing down these headcanons, but sometimes I worry whether anyone actually wants to read these long posts about it, so it's always so nice to hear people appreciate them!
I would love to talk more about Five Pebbles! I actually have quite a few headcanons for him specifically since I tend to ponder him a lot. In fact, of all the canon characters, when it comes to headcanons that aren't purely working out their general personality and backstory I think I currently have more outside headcanons for him than anyone else.
But nonetheless, assuming you mean "unique" as "interesting and relatively uncommon/unheard of in the fandom", here's one of mine that might seem odd or specific, but I really like it!
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I’ve headcanoned for at least a few months now that Five Pebbles is very much an auditory learner. He’s more receptive to spoken and auditory information than just written text, and as such he tends to talk a lot, which is how he best formulates his ideas.
Now, when I call him an auditory learner (or maybe just an audio-oriented person in general would be a better way to describe it), I also mean he generally cares a lot about how things “sound” to him. Five Pebbles pays close attention to how certain sounds “feel” in a sense, not just with regular abstract sounds, but spoken words, phrases, and ideas too. He likes it when sentences flow smoothly, convey the proper emotion or idea, and sound intellectual and well-thought-out, and dislikes when phrases sound clunky, confusing, or otherwise unprofessional and improper. In situations where he wants to appear smart and sophisticated, especially in a competitive sense, he loves flexing his extremely large vocabulary by throwing in long and obscure words and technical jargon too. To reference my last headcanon ask, this trait is another quality making him dislike NSH, who doesn’t care as much about grammar or syntax and thus tends to speak in casual ways Pebbles finds “improper”.
Usually, when he has a decent amount of uninterrupted personal time, Pebbles will spend several hours on end just talking to himself in his chamber to work out his ideas and plan any essays or speeches he’s preparing to give. He loves making sure that every sentence sounds pleasing, proper, and is grammatically correct, yet still explains his ideas thoroughly and accurately. However, despite being an introvert who values his alone time, he sometimes talks about his ideas to other iterators, especially when he wants feedback and criticism. In fact, having long discussions and debates, particularly about scientific, artistic, and philosophical matters, is perhaps one of the only things he actively enjoys doing with other people.
In this latter regard, this habit was actually one of the only reasons he occasionally, yet still actively sought out the presence of Unparalleled Innocence, someone whom I headcanon he never had much of a relationship at all with, positive or negative (at least pre-AU, that is). But nonetheless, Innocence is a very good listener and never declined an invitation to talk with him, though more often than not it turned more into him just rambling about something and her quietly listening and encouraging him to continue on (which she did for… other reasons besides her fascination with the subjects of his speeches, but I will get to those some other day…)
Another facet to this headcanon is that Pebbles has a strong appreciation for music. He finds it helps him calm down and work through his emotions very well, alongside one other habit I’ll address in a more official headcanon post. Thus, he’s got various music pearls with his favorite tunes that he’ll listen to while working or when he needs to relax. The purple one in Rivulet’s campaign is only one of many, though that was also the only one he could obtain at the time his chamber was broken into by the rot.
His love of music has always been another little “worldly pleasure” that he took for granted, not realizing just how much he enjoyed it until after mass-ascension. And even then, he stuffed it deep inside him and kept trying to downplay its value to him all the way until his rot condition was almost at its climax. This emotional turmoil I imagine him having is a particular element of his character arc I find very interesting even in regular Downpour canon, but once again I will elaborate on it more later…
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Anyway, there's the headcanon! Seeing as I'm planning to explain major character info in official headcanon posts, I tried to choose one that wasn't too essential for narrative comprehension, but is still unique and hopefully decently entertaining in-and-of itself. I also tried to use this to test a new format of doing more sketches for these headcanon posts, so it's not as much pure text.
Anyway, I hope you like it! And if you (or anyone else reading this, for that matter) ever want more headcanons, or can add to this one, don't be afraid to send another ask!
#art#artwork#drawing#drawings#sketch#sketches#digital#digital art#fanart#rain world#headcanons#rw headcanons#iterator#rw iterator#five pebbles#FP#rw fp#unparalleled innocence#UI#rw ui#quetzalli draws#quetzalli headcanons#letfivepebblesbehappy
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How to Write Intelligence Characters (Like Wei Wuxian!)
Wei Wuxian has a really bad memory, but he is also smart enough to realize this and then use it to insult people as a joke—WITH plausible deniability to shield him from any potential consequences.
This interplay between extreme intelligence, comical brain farts, and layered social interaction is what makes MDZS so fun to read because it creates a real complexity to both him and his environment. There are multiple layers going on in this scene, with in-jokes and social factions and miscommunications, as there is in reality. And it’s a tangible demonstration of his intelligence, that he’s able to think of this deception in the first place and so casually.
But also it make the story less monotonous by having this complexity. 3 layers.
There the first layer.
“Extremely intelligent character” Like gadget inventor characters or nerdy hackers. Their hyper intelligence is useful for plot reasons, and highly competent characters are likable. And this is not bad for a side character.
It can go too far, however, such as in the case with BBC Sherlock, when the author makes the character so hyper intelligent he becomes an unbelievable god character and wraps back around to being dislikable again. Like the author’s personal pet character who can do no wrong with the excuse of his intelligence allowing him to do anything, leading to extreme annoyance whenever he’s on screen, which is all the time bc he the main character (is that just me?) lol
Then there’s the second layer to break up the monotony of intelligence.
Wei Wuxian has shit memory. Like laughably shit memory. Much like how video games create perks that also give you cons in specific ways to make your decision to use it more satisfyingly personal, like choosing to wear shitty armor that looks pretty because you value style over function, Wei Wuxian’s extreme intelligence is often undercut by scenes of extreme brain farts.
Whether it be an almost painful level of obliviousness or an extreme failed memory check, Wei Wuxian gains a flaw that not only makes him human and therefore relatable, but also unique in the pantheon of genius characters out there because he’s a genius in THIS SPECIFIC NICHE (trademarked).
This nuance/uniqueness/realness, thus, will allow his character to say more about the real world than mr god intelligence BBC Sherlock.
For the most obvious one, he’s a persuasive essay on why intelligence is not predicated on good memory, which maps well onto his larger character trait of being a intelligent slacker in school (of which the number one complaint is that it is immaterial to actual learning and only really tests memory).
What does BBC Sherlock say, beyond the idea that a god has no need for human rules? That IS a message, but a hypothetical one, as most people will never get to that level of comical intelligence for it to be relevant. Well, I guess assholes (who are less smart than they think) use characters like him as excuses to be dicks, so there's that, but I think that's proof of how legitimately unrealistic he is. He's the power fantasy of teen boys and maladjusted adults, like Rick Rick and Morty.
The third layer is him remembering that he has shit memory and using it to his advantage.
THIS is the part that gets to me THE MOST about his character and arguably the part where MXTX proved (to me) that she’s a better writer than BBC Sherlock writing staff, especially when it come to OP or intelligent characters.
There’s an ELEVATION that happens on this third layer. This is where your character goes from a smart character to a smart person to an ABSOLUTE GOAT. This is the hype that the BBC Sherlock crew wanted when doing a smart god character but absolutely failed to nail deadass, Jesus-style.
Cheatcodes to Writing Intelligence
For one, it’s putting her money where her mouth is. BBC Sherlock creates hyper intelligence by bending the plot to Sherlock's will, like one of those Twitter fake "oracle" accounts that make predictions and then retroactively delete the wrong ones to make them look psychic.
It's not true prediction, and neither is Sherlock solving a mystery unsolvable to the audience because the writer can cheat and handwave his logic — THE VERY THING BEING SHOWCASED — by just showing Sherlock being right all the time about random things we couldn't know ourselves.
(And in Sherlock, this is mostly downplayed because the mystery is less important than the character drama (send prayers for Johnlock), but it goes from a subversion to a Game Of Thrones subversion (derogatory) when the show starts failing at the character drama too, making his stupid caricature of intelligence insulting instead of an interesting exploration of a hypothetical god trying to grow up human, Jesus-style.)
Wei Wuxian also has this hand-wave-y aspect to his intelligence. We're told and shown he's a genius inventor through the cheat code of the world's magic system. Magic without rules is famously hard to write well because any story's conflict can be solved with "well a wizard came and saved the day through GOD-like abilities" if the author is too lazy to write a satisfying conclusion.
Wei Wuxian is the inventor of Necromancy, and while yes this is sort of explained through a scene where he's arguing against the establishment to his cultivation teacher, the logic of it is very simple. "What if we reversed energy? (simplification of what he actually said)," the reality of his genius invention of necromancy is just that it's the author saying "well Wei Wuxian did it through his GOD-LIKE intelligence."
What we really get out of this is that his COUNTERCULTURAL HERESY (Galileo-Style) is revolutionary. Not so much his logic being revolutionary when the concept is THIS simple (haha reverse evil suppressing wards to get an evil attracting ward go brrr). But the story handwaves this away with just making other characters utter trash at necromancy, cheating at making him seem like a genius in comparison (simplified for scope, there's more to this).
IF that were all there was to him, he'd only be a 2 layer AT MOST. Instead, we have this third layer, where he directly reacts to information the reader has received in witty ways. (This also makes him self reacting, which is what makes us human)
The Structure of Setting Up Intelligence
Part of what makes mysteries so satisfying is that the reader is rewarded for paying attention/engagement. If they notice a clue that becomes a part of the detective's explanation later on, it's like a puzzle falling into place, where you feel like a special big boy for noticing. And if the detective manages to solve it where you didn't despite having all these clues, YOU become the dumb shitty necromancer jobber who makes Wei Wuxian look good in comparison. Metaphorically.
Similarly, we have all the clues. Wei Wuxian is smart and resourceful. Wei Wuxian forgets a lot of things. Wei Wuxian gets told he's forgotten a lot of things. What's the next logical step? Wei Wuxian smartly uses his forgetfulness as a resource!
2. At the beginning of the book, he accidentally snubs a side character by responding "I don't even know who you are" (simplified for scope's sake). At the time, he genuinely is fumbling here, messing up his social standing because of an actual brain fart, but in a way that's hilarious and better-than-you, so we think nothing of it... until he learns from this mistake right in front of our eyes!
Because later on, he REPEATS this line to the SAME character to legitimately snub them when they were making accusations of him personally attacking them. Not only is this an infuriating snub done on purpose this time, but it's a lie—Wei Wuxian remembered this asshole after the many many dumb dramas with them.
3. But it's a useful lie because it demonstrates a truth—WEI WUXIAN DIDN'T ATTACK THEM. Wei Wuxian would have motive to attack them hypothetically (read: dumb dramas), but the reality is that he doesn't care about them enough to do so, for all intents and purposes making them "forgotten" to Wei Wuxian. Best of all, people believed him because HE'S DONE THIS EXACT THING BEFORE. The plot is repeating, but nothing feels the same. LAYERS absolutely destroying MONOTONY.
3. On top of that, it's a reaction to himself. He's demonstrating both metacognition and self-awareness, here, which is something actively studied in psychology as a phenomenon humans have that other animals might not, a la Dunning Kruger and the mirror test, respectively. What's more human than cringing at your un-self-awareness and learning from it?
And the best part is that we were on every step of this journey. It feels like such an obvious move to make now, like duh you can use your forgetfulness as a form of weaponized incompetence—guys do it all the time (derogatory). Wei Wuxian even does this in a cute way with his sister when he does Sajiao/aegyo at her to get her attention (affectionate).
4. But it truly hits different seeing him do it in such a specifically crafted story, structured like a mystery or a joke where the logic or punchline is him pretending to have bad memory, and I personally would never have thought of doing this on the spot like he did. This is some post-argument hindsight shower thought shit. Genius power fantasy done well.
Shit like this is STORYTELLING and STORY CRAFTING. The repetition of the scene to make his second snub more potent. THIS IS THE POWER OF SET UP AND PAYOFF. A unique usage of the adage of how a character's greatest strength is their greatest weakness, like someone's determination making them bull-headed and stubborn. Except in reverse, necromancy style, where a fatal flaw (his memory) becomes a great strength (plausible deniability). A simple example of how characterization is about specific traits in unique ways to SHOW us his personality better than the author just telling you he's smart ever could, like in BBC Sherlock. THE POWER OF SHOWING NOT TELLING. The interplay of the contradictions within his intelligence as a way to show that he's "real" and not a god. THE POWER OF DEPTH.
All this while he is quite literally the god of his story (Jesus-style).
That's right! Time for pointing out the idolization and mythologizing of Galileo!
Now I don't know if this is true because fact checking in Chinese fandoms is a nightmare when 1. your chinese is barely fluent and 2. most chinese socmed platforms require a chinese phone number to sign up. 3. these two facts leads to a lot of fandom telephone. But I remember someone quoting MXTX on the idea that Wei Wuxian and his love interest are supposed to be the moral paragons of this story (despite the way Wei Wuxian has been demonized *haha get it? demonic cultivation. his ghost cultivation got called demonic cultivation in the most on the nose misnomer in history*). This is probably not a true quote, but it's emblematic of how it feels to be reading this story.
For one, Wei Wuxian is quite literally the moral paragon. He's one of like 3 people actively against a genocide (other than its victims). A genocide that characters within the positions of power go along with for what boils down to personal convenience's sake (ALL EYES ON RAFAH). He's one of the few characters to truly master resentment AKA ENVY (aka WEI "No Envies" WUXIAN) in a story where basically all the bad stuff happens due to envy (funnily enough the actual evil villain of the story is probably the only opp who wasn't actually jealous of him, despite arguably being the one who not only was the most envious of the whole series and the one whose envy would make sense, being narrative foils with Wei Wuxian and all). You'd never see Wei Wuxian wishing evil upon someone out of jealousy (he quite literally sacrifices himself to save his "unrequited" "crush's" "crush").
For two, this world is set in ancient times, where killing was still wrong but also simultaneously seen as honorable, like with Odysseus killing his wife's suitors in revenge being seen as honorable, DESPITE him hating it when the cyclops killed HIS crew in revenge for sheep lol. Wei Wuxian has slaughtered many people, but often in circumstances that soften the immorality of it, like the insanity defense or self defense or "this is war in ancient china" or stopping a genocide. And he acknowledges that these wrongs were still wrongs and does good in the world/changes as a person to atone.
For three, he's god damned OP. In a magic system where enlightenment is directly tied to magical ability, Wei Wuxian is one of the most powerful magic users in their world. Top of his generation, beat out only by his love interest, kinda. Morality is tied to cultivation, which is why it's called the "righteous" sects.
But it gets better, because those sects are not actually righteous. The vast majority are hypocrites or worse, and their work mostly involves killing things for "mundane" people, who treat them like nobility for doing so (depth in contradiction). The implication is sorta kinda that Wei Wuxian so powerful BECAUSE Wei Wuxian is one of the few to actually be righteous and not just self-righteous.
Thus, him being the inventor, the only non-noble, and only user of ghost path cultivation, the reverse of cultivation, thus serves to highlight his moral integrity in comparison, even when being called a heretic (depth in contradiction).
(And while people argue that his cultivation ITSELF is evil, causing the souls of the dead to be unable to reincarnate, I'd argue that that reading is a misread that gets distracted by thinking "demonic" and "ghost" cultivation are the same thanks to his title as the grandmaster of DEMONIC cultivation, when they're not the same (again, misnomer). In reality, he's the only successful user of the ghost path, which is about EMPATHY (Wei Wuxian's most signature magical ability after his flute playing skills) for the dead, playing into their resentment to help them pass, like he said in the very scene where he defies the establishment of his school and initially defines his path. The shitty jobber demonic cultivators are going evil and shit because it's actually pretty hard to put yourself in people's worst desires and hurts (wwx still went insane lol), much less if you yourself are controlled by resentment like Xue Yang or Su She was, who both technically "empathize" in that they're about as resentful as ACTUAL ghosts LMAO.)
Anyways, all this to say that the entire story is structured around hiding the fact that Wei Wuxian is the bestest guy ever embroiled in a huge mystery, who gets slandered and killed by his opps for standing up against powerful oppressors before coming back to life and clearing his name... (jesus-style). A lot of the book is him morality mogging or witty mogging randos, many of whom are cartoonishly evil or rude. Dare I say it? Yes. Like BBC Sherlock.
BOOM. Gallileo becomes the myth.
BBC SHERLOCK 🤝WEI WUXIAN
Whew, I finally brought it back around to my original point.
THIS is why Wei Wuxian is everything BBC Sherlock writers wished they were doing. Because in spite of all their similarities (seriously? both of them have a death period where their lover (rip johnlock) is mourning them before coming back to life??) BBC Sherlock's nowadays gets mercilessly mocked for being a Mary Sue and his fanfic community is dead, meanwhile Wei Wuxian is so beloved by his readers that MDZS fanfic literally has had such a huge impact it got Ao3 banned in China and then added a maximum to tags on Ao3 PERIOD. King shit.
And despite what this post seems, it's not a disparagement of BBC Sherlock as a character. I loved him, I loved the idea of exploring this demigod. Superwho-manly intelligent, but in ways that make it hard for him to function in the human world (until John). His struggles with ostracism, "weird" interests, sensory issues, etc. are alarmingly human and a great allegory for neurodivergence (while not being one of those cringe "autism savant" tropes bc he isn't literally autistic). Sherlock fic popped off for a reason, it's just that the writing of the show didn't do the legwork work that MDZS did to support his character as a god, instead it mostly did shit like "oh it's okay I'm a pretentious asshole because I'm a genius and always magically right, even when I'm wrong, because I'm god." Like if Rick Rick and Morty wasn't self-aware... T_T
That's why this post is me compiling the ways Wei Wuxian's character was crafted to be intelligent. It's not bad to have power fantasy OP characters, but it's hard to do them as well as him. It's not just the clever deceptions or witty usage of words with multiple meanings or the self-awareness and learning, or giving the intelligence flaws to make it more believable. Sherlock had all these and more.
It's the combination of it all, usually in the order of "telling" they're intelligent through abstract things like other characters saying he's really good at detectivework and them magically solving cases, then complicating that intelligence through some kind of flaw, then "showing" him overcoming that complication using concrete examples of intelligence, such as self-awareness, witty double entendres/callbacks, contradictorily using weakness or appearing weak for specific gains, and reframing the given 'clues' in a new light with the help of red herrings. This is like a steelman persuasive essay format, but with proving that someone is smart. Thesis, counter, rebuttal with quantitative evidence. There's like a mini arc build up to a mini climax/climactic moment that makes it satisfying.
The set up and payoffs are key here, as a lot of these just require a bit of legwork before the payoff, such as Wei Wuxian repeating the same line he used as a mistake into one he does on purpose or find a scenario where forgetfulness is actually helpful in deceptions or whatever the chosen scenario is. Much easier to begin with the end in mind in and then retroactively write the beginning to match, instead of creating an impossible mystery, after all. 😭😭 Best part is that I didn’t even compare the mystery writing of MDZS to Sherlock’s ass mysteries, I did it purely on the strength of how its intelligence is utilized for character drama, just as Moffat and his defenders would have wanted.
#metas#mdzs#mxtx#mo dao zu shi#wei wuxian#bbc sherlock#sherlock#steven moffat#writing#writeblr#hbomberguy#yeah this is mostly me writing a love letter to hbomb’s Sherlock video
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