#feeling like my heart was being shattered over and over again every single time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sytoran · 10 months

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𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

you and natasha were star-crossed lovers, separated by galaxies and timelines. like any other shakesperean tragedy, you and natasha's tale comes to an end... or does it?

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: this is the 3rd installment to the goddess!nat universe! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains major angst and smut. i have spent ungodly hours on this chapter.

word count: 4.5k (i am impressed with myself)

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously…

No one escapes the consequences of their actions. Not even the Goddess of Lust, who had formed romantic relationships with a mortal. SHIELD’s decision to forbid the two of you from ever seeing each other again tears apart all the ‘what-ifs’ of a bright future.

Now…

Natasha doesn’t know how many hours she’s been crying in the bathtub.

After the finality of SHIELD’s crushing decision had truly weighed itself upon Natasha’s burdened shoulders, the mere thought of what she would have to do to you shook her to the bone.

Which is why she crashed at her sister’s place: to cry her problems away in a bathtub made of priceless gold, alongside a fine bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Jesus, Nat, you’re gonna die of hypothermia if you stay in there a second longer.” Yelena says, kicking open the bathroom door with a tray of smoked salmon appetizers in hand.

“Take one,” Yelena says absentmindedly, sitting herself on the edge of the bathtub next to Natasha’s partially-submerged form. “Food helps with everything.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, only looking up at her sister through glassy eyes. Empty eyes. She felt raw and numb at the same time, but the contrasting emotions were merely child’s play in comparison to the storm that raged within her weary mind.

Yelena looks at her unamusedly, before folding her arms. “Talk to me,” she stated firmly, and it wasn’t a request. The blonde sister was the Goddess of War, after all, she could be as intimidating and ruthless as she wanted to be.

Hot-headed at times, sure, but so paradoxically calculative and strategic at other times Natasha felt like she could get whiplash. Despite all of the finicky situations the older sister had found herself drowning in, Yelena was always there for her, fiercely protective with a passion like no other.

This was no different, with Yelena being the hand to pull her out of the water. Physically and metaphorically.

Natasha inhaled shakily, then exhaled and felt a whole lot worse than before. Impulsively, she snatched one of the smoked salmon appetizers off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth, feeling her eyes well up as she does so.

“Damn, this human fucked you up this bad?” The blonde said quizically, with an air of sarcastic wit on the surface but a layer of genuine concern underneath only Natasha would be able to decipher.

"... I've fallen in love with her." The Goddess says softly, faraway, like she was floating with the wind and time itself. Detached from reality, or perhaps running away from it.

Yelena stayed silent. For once, the Goddess of War was at a loss.

“I’ve fallen in love with her,” Natasha says again, with slightly more conviction. She looks to her blonde sister, and Yelena’s heart nearly shatters at the sight of the sheer hurt on Natasha’s face. So broken, so agonized, everything that she did not deserve to be.

“But that doesn’t even matter, alright? She gave me her heart, Lena, and I’m going to have to break it. I’m gonna break so many– Fuck, I’m gonna have to break every single promise I’ve ever made to her, like she’s some kind of toy.” Natasha chokes out. “And I don’t, I fucking don’t– understand why it was us, why I lead her on and why I let it happen. I’m fucking stupid, and now it’s blown up in my face. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I-”

“You’ve never deserved it,” Yelena interrupts, placing a hand over her sisters’. Is that how you’re supposed to comfort someone? Yelena doesn’t know. Anyways, she’s trying. “Nat, I know you’re the Goddess of Lust, and your reputation precedes you, but, you, of all people, deserve love.”

You deserve love… what a fucking lie that was.

“Don’t try that on me,” Natasha snaps, her walls snapping back up in record timing. Her self-destructive defence builds like armour, and soon she’s standing up.

“I’ve done some fucked up shit in the past, and I’m very aware of it. I thought I’d moved past it, but now those demons have caught up to me, and I can’t do jackshit but watch the love of my life slip away from my fingers. I don’t deserve love, it just happened to find me and I played along because I thought it could last.”

Natasha’s chest heaves at the impact of the outburst. She stares at Yelena, who remains painfully impassive. Arms folded, jaw working on the stupid fucking smoked salmon.

Fuck, she wanted to hurt someone. Make them feel her pain. Let it consume them like it’s consuming her, let it choke them and–

“Is that what you really think, Nat? That you were simply playing a game with Y/N L/N? Because I assure you, I haven’t seen much but I know damn well that those two months with her pure, unfiltered, undying, devotion.”

Yelena’s words puncture a hole into her conscience, injecting venom with it. Each syllable, each emphasis, cuts her. Because Natasha knows that it’s true, but she can’t accept it or she’ll never be able to let you go.

So all she does is give Yelena the best death stare she can muster, and stalk out of her bathroom like her clothes aren’t dripping with bubbly water. (Yes, she had gone into the bathtub with all her clothes on. Depression waited for no man, or Goddess.)

She shakes her head, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and fixes up her appearance with wordless magic.

My palace. Natasha visualizes the place, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s standing right outside the door.

Apprehensively, she puts her hand on the handle to the huge, sparkling door. You would be waiting on the other side, waiting for Natasha to come home.

Waiting for Natasha to break your heart.

She pushes the door open before she can cower and hide, before she can run away and curse every sentient being in existence.

It was time for her mortal demise.

—

It was time for Natasha to see the fruits of your hard work.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, huffing heavily but proud nonetheless. You step back to admire the absolute feast you had prepared for your girlfriend.

The fancy dining table was adorned with a checkered tablecloth and ornate with all kinds of things, expensive plates and cutlery already set up, just for two.

It was no secret that Natasha loved your home-cooked meals, despite being able to eat whatever she wanted, as a Goddess with a private chef. She had sworn you put something magical into your food.

You’ll never forget the moan she let out the first time she ate your perfected medium-rare New York Strip.

Which is exactly why you’ve spent over an hour cooking up a banquet of all kinds of food for the Goddess, an array of cuisines from all around the world. As much as you loved the hot sex you had with Natasha, you were an absolute sucker for the domesticity of life with her, how simple and perfect it was.

As if on cue, you hear the front door open, which was not too far away from the dining hall.

Your heart physically leaps, unbridled excitement adorning your features. Natasha had taken longer than she normally would, and you could barely contain the anticipation thrumming in your bones.

That is, until you see Natasha standing in the hallway defeatedly, shoulders sagged and eyes lowered. Like all the life had been sapped out of her.

Fuck, you had never seen her like this. Natasha was the embodiment of undying energy, always with a smile on her face, or her expression schooled into composure, or her eyes fluttering in a state of lust. Not like this.

Never like this.

“Darling?” you ask, hushed. You take one step towards her, tentatively. The head of red hair looks up to you, and Natasha’s biting her lip like she’s stopping the words from falling out of her mouth, like she’ll start crying if you say one word more.

“I-” Natasha tries, her voice hoarse and choked. The rest of her sentence dies in her throat, as she shakes her head and strides past you quickly, like she can’t burn any longer under your gaze.

Your hand drops in complete loss as Natasha simply walks past you, shoulders brushing like a ghost of what used to be warm hugs and sweet kisses. You chase after her before you know it, yelling her name as the Goddess speeds up.

Natasha blinks back tears furiously, striding through the dining hall as the servants scatter like mice. She hardly registers the feast prepared on the ornate table, vision blurring with each desperate cry of her name you let out.

“Natasha? What’s the matter? Talk to me, please!”

You sprint faster, dodging your way through the hallways and up the wide set of stairs. The Goddess is within arm’s reach, now, and you extend your arm to grab onto hers, so you can spin her around and ask what on earth is going–

And the Goddess simply teleports away at the last second, the fleeting touch of her warm skin dissipating into thin air.

“Fuck!” you yell, eyes darting in frustration. Why was Natasha acting like this? Had you done something? Forget her birthday? No, that was December 3rd. Forget the anniversary of your first meeting? Nope, that was January 24th. What on earth had you done? Or had she done something? You–

No, okay, calm down. Slow down. The rational voice in your head speaks up. Where would Natasha have gone? What was a significant place she would escape to, in times of distress?

After a moment of contemplation, you find your answer, and sooner than later you’re sprinting up the long flight of spiral staircases to the Astronomy Tower.

—

Natasha’s thankful for the dome-shaped glass ceiling the tower has, doing what it can to block out the cold. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, a heart-wrenching contrast to her inner turmoil.

It’s a dark blue and a soft pink, with millions of little bright planets splashing across the canvas like silver sequins. The view of the galaxy from the land of the Gods had always been the greatest, after all.

The Goddess stands, unmoving and breathing lightly. She doesn’t feel the least bit better, but at least she’s calmed down in the slightest.

She’s bought some time by teleporting up here. Her hands were clammy, but no matter how many times she wipes them down on her dress it doesn’t change a thing. She can’t change a thing, not for anything, not for you.

“Natasha?” you ask, weakly, heaving at having sprinted up so many flights of stairs.

At the sight of you, the Goddess feels the tears spring back into her eyes again. Stupid. She wants to say sorry. Stroke your face and kiss your lips, maybe. Well, not maybe, because she can’t. Because it’s the last– nope, she can’t say it.

“Nat, can you….. fuck, I need to work out more. Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I made- I made a New York Strip, if you’re hungry–”

The Goddess walks up to you, cradling the side of your face in her hands. Oh, fuck it. Tender, sweet, delicate. You’ve never seen her face like this before, so soft yet so broken.

“What—”

You’re cut off when Natasha leans into your space, eyelids fluttering shut. And for once, this wasn’t preordained or predetermined. You didn’t have to calculate the next move. You didn’t have to fix a destiny.

Natasha’s lips meet yours in a grand, cruel, beautiful, broken kiss.

It feels so right, tongues interlocking like cogs on a machine, quavering breaths escaping from the sides of her mouth. You let her in, you drink her up. All other thoughts shut down.

Natasha kisses you with a hyena’s jaw, swearing she could never get enough, never satiate her desires for you, even if everything else is wrong. You’re stealing her every breath, every kiss, every sigh — she needed more.

She slides her hand down your torso, hands already finding the hem of your pants. But then you push her away – for the first time, for that last time – you push her away, and step back, and your head is spinning.

“I deserve to know,” you breathe heavily, and Natasha’s heart cracks. “You’re scaring me, Nat, okay? First you brush past me all soulless, and then you make me chase after you, and then you kiss me so- so sadly, and now you wanna fuck? It doesn’t make sense, not at all. I wanna know, I deserve to know, I–”

“You deserve everything,” Natasha interrupts, eyes transfixed on you now, and they look kaleidoscopic, just like the galaxy that hung above your heads. “You deserve everything, but I can’t give you what you need, and that’s why this is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again.”

Silence ensues.

You take a good moment to actually mentally digest what Natasha had just said. “...What?”

“This is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again,” she repeats, firmer. You let out a bark of laughter in disbelief, half-joking, but Natasha’ stony face makes your face drop.

“Are you… breaking up with me?” you whisper, scared to say it loud, like doing so would make it less true. Natasha feels her heart clench, and her hands shake because you’ve never sounded so small, so vulnerable.

“No, I’m not– I had to, Y/N, darling,” Natasha says, trying to reason, clasping your hands in hers, shaking her head desparately, like it would stop her eyes from welling up. “I’m a Goddess, and you’re a mortal. I love you, please. But we can’t do this, we can’t-”

“Is it me?” you ask, softly, troubled. Eyes locking Natasha’s magnificent green eyes, one’s that you’ve fallen in love with a thousand times. Ones that you were still in love with.

“No,” Natasha says immediately, her knuckles whitening. “It’s not you. Definitely not.”

“Then who is it?” you follow up, eyes narrowing, head tilted. “Who’s the one tearing us apart?”

It was them, Natasha wants to scream out, until her lungs burned and her chest heaved and she ran out of tears. You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened in my life, and I’m a damned fool if I ever let you go, but this isn’t in my hands anymore. She wanted to curse the higher beings for centuries, taint their names with bitter words, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

You grow more hopeless as the silence stretches on.

No, you’re the villain. Natasha’s voice says in her head. This was what had come to bite her back, this was her karma. You’re paying for everything you’ve ever done wrong, for all the hearts you’ve broken and never mended. It’s your turn to face the music, your turn to go through suffering. What a shame, isn’t it? That she’s the one who’s so hurt because of you. Y/N L/N. Only person to blame is yourself.

…Only person to blame is yourself.

“It’s me,” Natasha finally says, a shell of a woman who once was, and the Goddess swears she hears your heart smash into smithereens, the glass pieces against the floor you trod on.

“No, what are you saying, Nat?” you ask, confused, tearing up, visibly shaking. “You’re- we’re together. We’re doing good. We’re doing so fucking good, please don’t–”

“I’m the Goddess of Lust, and you’re an attorney from earth. We were never gonna work out. I wasn’t made to have long-lasting, committed relationships. Just… lustful nights,” the falsehood of the words that fell out of Natasha’s mouth wasn’t her own. It tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was like medicine and it was the right thing to do.

You needed a villain. Someone to hate. Someone to blame it all on.

And Natasha happened to be a very good one.

“We were a time-ticking bomb, Y/N, separated by galaxies you could never even fathom.” she continues. “We were never meant to be. I realise how wrong I am for this, because it was never real–”

“It was real to me!” You yell out, voice cracking, tears in your eyes.

Natasha is stunned by the sheer volume of your words, so ferocious and so determined and fuck, she was pathetic. “It was fucking real to me, alright? It was the realest thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. It was so fucking real, Nat, so you don’t get to just pretend you never fell in love!”

Love.

“Love?” Natasha asks, letting out an amused huff of disbelief. “Love doesn’t exist, not in my world, Y/N L/N. It had to end at some point, you know that. You have your responsibilities, I have mine. We’re over, alright?”

You stand there, feet rooted on the ground, face fallen and ashen and grey. This was a dream. This was a dream, and you’d wake up next to the real Natasha later, the one with sweet smiles and peanut butter cookies, and everything would be alright.

“I’ve said what I had to say,” the Goddess says, and she has to regulate her breathing so she won’t choke on her words and swallow them back. She had to escape before she fell to her knees and begged you for forgiveness. “I’m leaving, now.”

She turns, and you grab her arm. “You’re staying.” you state, non-negotiable. A commanding tone. One that Natasha had grown to love.

This time, she scoffs, wrenching herself out of your grasp. “Fucking make me, then.”

Just like that, a lever between the two of you was flicked, and the sexual tension you’d been trying to avoid since just now is nearly suffocating.

“We’re not gonna do this right now,” You growl, looking up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. Teetering on the edge of precipice was your raging impulse, to either punch a hole in the wall or shove your hand up Natasha’s skimpy dress.

The Goddess tilts her head up in defiance, looking at you daringly in the eyes. Your eyes narrow, taking it as a challenge. God, she looked so fucking bratty like that, and it didn’t help that she was still wearing a stupidly skimpy dress and that her pink lip gloss made that mouth so damn kissable.

“No? Then I’m leaving,” Natasha says abruptly, her tone of voice unyielding and domineering. She uncrosses her arms and turns on her heel, her hand going to the door of the tower.

The rhythmic clicking of her strappy high heels against the tiling of the ground ticks your brain like a metronome. You stand there with your arms folded, her long legs in the field of vision of narrowed eyes.

Click, click, click–

And then she’s being spun around and slammed against the back of the door with an unruly force.

“The only time someone ever turns their back on me, when I’m talking, is when they’re bendin’ over,” you growl into Natasha’s skin, each pause in your sentence filled with a harsh bite to her porcelain skin. Her gasp-turned-moan is heaven to your ears.

Natasha struggles for a moment, hand still grasping for the doorknob. “Fuck,” she cries, but she feels the gyration of your roughly-shoved thigh up her dress and she nearly loses it. You wrap a hand around her neck, letting her give up her power, and you do what you’ve done a thousand times before.

Except this was the last time.

You don’t bother to take off her garments as you hike up the bottom of her dress and push your front against her. “Fuck,” Natasha moans, feeling your rock-hard bulge against her panties. She tries to grind against it, tries to alleviate the growing tension, but you do nothing more than rut against her until she’s fucking soaking.

“I don’t think so,” you growl, hands going to her ass as you push her up against the wall. Your mouth latches on to whatever slivers of bare skin you can find, on her neck and her collarbone and her upper cleavage.

You suck hard on her porcelain skin, leaving marks like you could claim her. Like this wouldn’t be the last time. “Please,” Natasha begs, indescribably aroused, her panties completely soaked through. You had never been this unforgiving.”Need you, please.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what you were saying just now, hmm?” You ask, harshly, slapping the side of her thigh just because you can. You pin her against the wall with your knees and your left hand, using the other to unbuckle your own pants.

She tries to reach out to help you, but you slap her hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you say coldly, and Natasha wants to cry but she knows she brought it upon herself.

It takes you more time on your own, but you get the job done and the sight of your cock, the one Natasha took the first day she met you, it makes her cunt grow a heartbeat and she’s a fucking mess against the wall.

“Now you need me so bad?” You taunt, rubbing the tip of it against the slit of her pussy. “Don’t have any more words to say?” God, she’s absolutely drenched, and you think you’re gonna die if you don’t go inside her in the next five seconds.

This was probably the worst way to communicate, but, fuck, the two of you were bad at talking and you couldn’t resist the divine goddess that was Natasha, no matter how badly she had hurt you.

You nearly cum the second you enter the Goddess. Her velvet walls cling tight to you, so warm, too fucking warm. Natasha’s babbling something you don’t understand, but you can’t wait any longer.

“Oh, fuck!” she moans, as you slide your cock into her wet cunt with ease.

Your bodies move together with every thrust, Natasha’s legs wrapped tight around your torso as you thrust into her against the door. It’s hard, and fast, and rough, and nothing tender like your Saturday mornings.

She clings to your back, head thrown back, moans and cries bouncing off the sides of the wall. The door is shaking, like it might crack from the sheer weight of your thrusts into her.

You grunt at the inconvenience of that prospect, instead opting to walk the two of you back to a desk in the corner. Natasha gasps, whimpering into your neck as you walk across the floor with your cock still deep inside her pussy. It’s too sensitive, so sensitive everywhere.

You bend her over the desk, pulling away then lining yourself up again.

You’re about to make her beg, before the irrational, carnal side of your mind takes over, and you’re pounding into her pretty little cunt mercilessly. Grunting and groaning as lodge your cock in deeper with each harder thrust, as her moans delve into a symphonic crescendo of screams of your name.

She’s thrashing around, so warm and so wet and so overstimulated all over, but you don’t let up for a moment. You only grip her thighs harder and make her hear how wet she is, before Natasha’s eyes are rolling into the back of her head and there’s drool at the sides of her mouth.

“Pretty slut,” you grunt, pulling out to slap at her puffy clit before she’s squirting, white cream going all over the mattress. “Daddy,” Natasha moans pornographically, visibly shuddering at your degradation. She might like it, a little too much.

The title that had fallen from her lips elicits a groan of acknowledgement out of you, but simultaneously brings back the bittersweet flashbacks of your time spent with her.

This was the last time.

After she’s come down from her high and you’ve hit your climax, you spread her legs and lean down to get a good taste.

"Oh! Daddy - ungh - please," she begs, as your tongue meets her overstimulated cunt. Natasha hadn't even recovered from her previous orgasm, still bent over the desk and panting like she was in heat.

You lap greedily at her wet cunt from behind, and the sheer novelty of how many times you’ve done this truly hits you. How many hours you’ve spent exploring Natasha’s body. How many days you’ve spent worshipping.

All for it to succumb to this.

It’s only after another few orgasms that the weight of ‘the last time’ hits you. Both of you have ended up on the floor, completely naked, heaving heavily to regain oxygen.

“I loved you,” you whisper, hovering above Natasha, and the use of the past tense makes chips away at Natasha’s heart. It’s only then does she realise that there are tears on her cheeks, because you’re crying.

“You deserve someone better,” is the only thing the Goddess says, a ghost of her whisper on your lips.

“You've ruined me for anyone else,” you say, face devoid of the passion there once was. “You loved me so tenderly I won't be able to have another, had such good sex I can't sleep with anyone else.”

Natasha doesn’t respond to that. She can’t respond to that. There were too many unsaid words, broken promises, a future yet to be.

Both of you look up at the pink-blue sky, bare backs on an astronomy tower, bound by love and unbound by timelines and galaxies. It was brokenly beautiful, undeniably so.

You only wish everything could’ve been different.

—

You wake up the next day in an unfamiliar bedroom. The room was far too small, the walls were too grey, the air was too cold, and fuck.

No, no, no, fuck. This was not happening.

Realisation slams into your exhausted body like a two-hundred kilogram sledgehammer, and you're winded by the weight of the impact.

This wasn't Natasha's home. This wasn't her fancy palace.

This wasn't the Goddess' universe.

Air crushes your lungs. Your heart pounds in your chest.

This was your bedroom. This was your universe. The one you had spent all your days in, before you met the love of your life.

At least, who you so stupidly believed to be the love of your life.

You get up with a start, the ache in your bones forgotten with the sheer emotions coursing through your veins, terror and disbelief and anger.

Your mind swims as you grab at anything you can, overturning furniture and messing up papers to find anything, anything, that could explain why this had happened.

Deep inside your chest, you had already known. Even if you managed to fool yourself. Even if you’d dreamt up a whole future of your life with her.

With a shuddering breath, your eyes fall to an envelope on your bedside table. You open it with trembling hands, almost fearful of what lay beyond.

In the envelope, contained a signed check with so many zeroes you could live luxuriously for the rest of days.

In the envelope, contained a note with five fated words and the name of the one that got away.

All you're left with is a broken promise, an agonized cry, and the ghost of what could've been.

To every universe and back,

N.R.

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

4.5k words my eyes are not okay i've been staring my screen and typing for two hours straight, look what i'm going thru for yall

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #x reader #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #goddess natasha #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff angst

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trumpkinhotboy · 9 months

Text

“I’ll keep an eye on you”

Pairing: Jacob Black x Reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: A bit spooky, but mostly fluffy and comforting vibes

Warnings: Mention of blood and being chased after (but nothing too intense)

Rating: g

Word count: ~ 2K

Requests: Open! For Twilight wolfpack, Narnia and Harry Potter

A/n: Honestly, I’m really excited about this fic. I think it’s very sweet and comforting :3 My brain is bubbling with so many ideas lately so expect new pieces from me in the close future hehe. Also if you have any requests feel free to message me!!

I recommend listening to a Twilight Comfort playlist while reading this. Hope you enjoyy <33

*gif is not mine!!

Summary: After the reader survives an encounter with a vampire, they are still haunted by the memories of it. Luckily, they have a caring and protective friend who is always ready to ensure they feel safe and cared for, even in the middle of the night.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to erase the terrible images invading your brain. For a week now, they have been omnipresent, taking up all the space in your mind. They are the center and focal point of your thoughts for days on end. As you open them again, your vision adjusts to the darkness just enough for your gaze to fall on a strange form crouched in the corner of your bedroom. You could swear it’s alive. Swear it’s stalking you.

You jump out of your bed to turn your nightlamp on. Your heart feels like it might spring out of your chest of its own accord. Your breath is short, and for a moment, you think you’ll never be able to take one that will actually get air in your system.

The menacing form in the corner turned out to be a pile of dirty clothes, but you knew that. Since that day, you feel irrational and paranoid. Everything feels like a threat, and you are now constantly looking over your shoulder, paying close attention to any suspicious sound or absence of it. You’ve talked about it with Harry Clearwater when you unexpectedly met at the Reservation one day. You did not hear him coming, and he had set his heavy hand on your shoulder to get your attention. Which resulted in a glass shattering scream for you and a bad fright for the poor man. As he invited you in for a calming cup of tea, you unloaded the weight on your shoulder to him. It felt good to talk about it, knowing you could never do so with your dad and your friends. He assured you that it unfortunately was a very normal reaction from your nervous system. You had faced the world's most dangerous predator and had survived it without a single scratch. Of course it would take some time for your traumatized brain to go back to normal. You could never take credit for the fact that you even had a chance to go back to normal, and would never attempt to do so. Knowing very well that without Paul, Jared, and Embry’s arrival, you would not have lived to talk about this encounter.

When you focus and let your mind drift off, you can live the event again, as if you were back in time. The paralyzing fear, the blood in your veins feeling like icy water. There was nothing to be done against a creature like that. You remember the horror you felt as everything became silent around you. You were headed to Emily's cabin, a simple, straightforward walk through the woods. The birds suddenly stopped singing, even the soft wind had died down. The forest knew it was in the presence of something truly horrible and had seemed to hold its breath, along with every creature. The color of its eyes was like in every legend you had been told; crimson red, like fresh blood. Not one ounce of humanity in those orbs, just a bottomless pit of cruelty and hunger. The worst thing was the pull you remember feeling for a split second toward that monster. You knew it was its sole purpose, but felt embarrassed you had fallen for it. Shivers crawled down your spine as you recalled its ethereal and hypnotizing appearance. It’s like you can hear again the faint swooshing sound it made as it sprang towards you. You remember sending out a quick prayer to literally any entity who would be listening right now, but the blow never came. Next thing you knew, three giant beasts tackled it to the ground, gnarling and dismembering it in a matter of seconds.

You open your eyes and shake your head to try and physically get those horrible memories outside of your skull. You lay back in bed, anxiously watching every corner of your room for some sign of danger. You left the light open, you knew there was no chance you could fall asleep without it. You tucked yourself back in bed and tried to calm your breathing. You tried every technique you knew, hoping sleep would grace you with its embrace, but nothing worked.

You look back at the clock after a while. 1:15 am. It was too late for you to get out of bed, and morning was still so far away. You had school the next day and knew that if you spent one more night without sleeping, you wouldn’t be able to explain to your teachers why you dozed off again in their class without them calling your father.

In a last effort, you tried thinking about reassuring and comforting things. Curiously enough, one kept coming back to mind. A giant wolf, its fur a multitude of shades of brown and red. Its eyes were sweet and reassuring, containing a particular warmth. You looked at your phone, hesitating, but remembered his voice: “If there’s absolutely anything, call me okay?”

And so you did.

Twenty minutes later, you got a text. You quietly walked to your window, glad to see Jacob’s familiar shape outside your house. He was standing next to a tree, representing for once a friendly and reassuring shadow in the night.

He spoke quietly. “Having trouble sleeping?”

You nodded, a bit ashamed to admit such an infantile fear. Although, deep inside, you knew there was nothing childish about being afraid of the monster you had been warned about as a child, once you had come face to face with it.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I'd totally understand if you'd rather not stay. I mean it's late and you need to sleep. I don't know what I was thinking…”

“Don't be ridiculous." he cut you off. "I’m already here. And once you’ve been asleep for a long time, I’ll go home and catch up on my beauty sleep, okay?”

You knew it wouldn’t take much convincing from him, there was no point in lying. You needed him. You needed the reassurance and sense of security he always brought you.

"If you're sure then… but Jake. You won't leave too soon uh?"

You heard his low chuckle in the distance.

“I promise.”

You slowly and quietly closed your window. The last thing you would want is for your father to wake up and see Jacob standing below your window. You looked back outside, only to see a giant russet wolf had replaced your tall friend. He was standing under the covers of the woods. Forks was a tranquil little city, but you could never be too careful. He gave you a quick nod, encouraging you to go back to bed. You sent him a little thumbs up before heading to your fort of blankets and pillows.

As stupid as it might have seemed, you did feel a thousand times better knowing that Jacob was right outside, watching over you like a guardian angel. To your surprise, sleep quickly came to you, and you fell into its black hole without any resistance.

You’re in a dark forest, running and running and running. You can’t breathe, your hands are bloody, everything hurts. All you can hear is an echoing, cold, cruel laugh. You trip over a root and fall. Something is rushing through the dark woods, coming at you. You get back up and run in the opposite direction, but it feels like you’re not getting any further, like you're running in place. You scream for help, calling out for Jacob, Paul, Embry, Jared, ANYONE, HELP ME. But no one answers, you’re alone, and you’re about to die a horrible death. You trip once more, your leg hurts like hell, there’s no point trying to get up again. You turn around to try and decipher who, what, is running after you. Suddenly, in the dark void of the night, all you can see is that horrifying pair of bloodthirsty eyes. You let out one last scream as it sinks its teeth into your skin. //

“Y/n, y/n, wake up! It’s okay I’m here, Y/n!”

You try to run out of bed but feel a strong pair of arms holding you back. The embrace is warm and smells familiar, but you’re not controlling your limbs anymore. Your whole body is in flight mode. Luckily, the thing (person?) holding you back is strong enough to withstand it, and even though you try as hard as you can to run away, your feet aren't even touching the ground anymore.

“Y/nn, Y/n, shhh. It’s okay, I’m here, it’s me. It’s Jacob.”

You focus on the reassuring tone of the voice and try to convince yourself you're not in the woods anymore. You can see your surroundings poorly illuminated by your little mushroom night light. You're in your room, you’re safe, you’re okay.

Your breathing is still fast and shallow. You blink a few times. Sometimes, the vision surrounding you is one of the cold woods. On other, it's the familiar vision of your room. You slowly turn to face your friend’s face. His brows are furrowed, and his traits have worry written on them in bold letters. He scans you, not quite letting go of your body. Too scared you might start screaming and running again.

“Jake?” “Yes, hi. Welcome back. You really scared me there Y/n.” “What- what are you doing in here? What happened?” Your tone is feeble, and you feel exhausted. You look around once more, afraid this might be some other kind of twisted and terrifying nightmare.

“Am I still dreaming?” You dare to ask. “No, you are awake. We’re in your room. You asked me to come to keep an eye on you, remember?”

You nod, still unsure. What if this was a dream inside a dream? What if the warm limbs of your friend suddenly turned ice cold? What if you looked at him and his eyes turned red, fangs slightly poking his lips?

He can see doubt dancing in your eyes. You don't trust him, or yourself. He holds up his palms towards you, trusting you won't bolt and run.

“See for yourself. I’m real, you can touch me.”

You reach a hesitating finger, carefully poking his own. Seems real enough, feels real. It's warm, the skin is wonderfully tanned, familiar. You’ve seen those hands at work a thousand times. You know them by heart. You poke his cheek, and he gives you a tender smile.

“Convinced?”

You nod once more, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, as your legs start to shake. That's the thing about dreams, isn’t it? Even if it’s only happening inside your head, your body reacts to it as if it were actually living it. You look at your hands, feeling reminiscent of the pain as if you did scorch them in the woods.

He interrupts your thoughts with a low and soft voice. “Come back in bed. I’ll tuck you in.”

He wraps your hands with his huge ones. They’re warm and feel incredibly good. You let him guide you back to your toasty blankets, but instead of leaving, he takes a spot next to you, shielding you from the window.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a timid voice. “I’m keeping an eye on you, dummy.” Your feet are poking from under the covers. You move to offer him a bit of coverage, but he declines. He is already hot enough as he is, although he can’t deny that his heart seemed to grow a size or two at the kind gesture.

You wait a minute before asking how he ended up in your room. You're not sure you want to know, but curiosity wins over embarrassment.

His expression darkens for a second before he starts talking. “I was just keeping guard outside when I heard a noise. You were calling for me… I didn’t even think, I just got in. You were twitching in your bed. I tried to calm you down, I didn't want it to wake up Charlie, but nothing would do. I was about to forcefully wake you, but you ran out of bed and woke up by yourself.”

“Oh.” You finally let after a few seconds of silence.

“Yup.”

Unconsciously, you're not sure, he took ahold of your hand and lightly played with your fingers. He finally lifted his gaze from your joined hands to look at you, all caring and reassuring. You slide in closer to him. All you want is to feel his comforting warmth and maybe offer him as much as you can too. You feel so bad for worrying him so much. He opens up his arms and cradles you in a bear hug. He won't say it out loud, but he's also in dire need of comfort.

You match your breathing to him, and for the first time in a little while, you’re not scared, not even a little bit. If only you could stay like this forever.

After a few minutes of silence, in which you almost fell asleep, you hear him whisper.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I should have been there. I should have protected you. I’m so sorry, you don't even know.”

“It’s not your fault Jake.” You mumble, and realize you're telling the truth. These are more than empty words. Never has it crossed your mind that this might have been his fault.

“It partially is, if I didn’t drag you into all this you might have been far away. Safe, away from monsters most people don't even know exist."

“I chose to follow you into this Jake. I would be lying if I said this wasn't one of the most horrifying experiences of my life, but it was not your fault. Please get that idea out of your head, okay? I’ll get over it. I guess I just need some time, as Harry said.”

You feel almost fully awake again. He nods, but you know you haven't convinced him. The look on his face is one of guilt, one you've come to know more and more since you learned about his secret. He mindlessly played with a feather poking out of your duvet, avoiding your gaze. Once again, you realized how mature he looked, while still being so young. Too young to carry such heavy burdens. You wanted to hammer the idea out of his thick skull, but you knew there was nothing to do about it tonight. Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you, and convincing him of the opposite would take some time.

Your eyes focused on his tanned skin, and you suddenly became hyper-aware that he was in your bed while only wearing his jeans short.

You inched away of him. “Uhm, want a shirt? I’m sorry, I didn't even think that, since you were in your wolf form, you uh… wouldn’t have one?” You let out an awkward laugh. You were used to seeing him like this, but it was different when you were both lying in bed together in a space that felt so intimate.

“That's nice of you Y/n, but I don't think I'd actually fit into one of your shirts.” He snickers as you get up. You're still wrapped in a blanket as you forage in the pile of clothes next to your bed. You get out of it with a dark cotton t-shirt in hand. It's humongous for you, but you know it will fit Jake like a glove. Probably because it is one of his own.

“There, dummy.” You hand him the t-shirt before jumping back in bed to wrap yourself properly, like a human burrito.

He looks at the piece of clothing and then at you for a good 10 seconds. “You still have this?”

He genuinely looks surprised, but his expression seems mixed with a hint of… satisfaction?

You nod, your nose and eyes being the only part of your anatomy still out of the blankets. You still remember the day he lent you that shirt when you had been caught in the rain at La Push. You never returned it to him, loving the way the gigantic piece of clothing felt on you.

He didn't add anything else before putting the shirt on. “It smells a lot like you.” He adds, a slight tremor in his voice.

“That might be because I wear it a lot to sleep.” You shamefully admit. Your words are nothing more than a whisper, but you know he didn’t have any trouble hearing them. You pull the covers even higher, trying to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Is that so?” He's smugly smirking. No doubt anymore that he is satisfied with that new piece of information, which makes you want to crawl even further under the covers.

You mutter a quick 'dumbass' before turning away from him. He chuckled before grabbing and pulling you on his broad chest like you weighted nothing more than a feather. You and Jake have always been comfortable with physical touch, but you feel like this is special. You have never done this before. Fine the circumstances were a bit peculiar, but that did not keep you from relishing in the warmth he diffused in waves. You didn't even bother to fake protest. This, is all you need, and you will not be foolish enough to ruin the moment. He wiggles even closer, and you can feel his chest come flush with your back through the layers of blankets. He rests his chin on the crown of your head before lightly stroking the side of his full cheek on your hair.

“Little human burrito.” He mutters. His voice is barely a whisper. Its husky tone makes you shiver. “I’ll watch over you, now go back to sleep.”

—

Here is part.2 🌟

#ilya writes #jacob black #jacob black fic #jacob black blurb #jacob black x reader #jacob black x y/n #twilight #twilight au #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black fluff #fluff #fluffy #werewolves #shapeshifters #twilight wolfpack

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pochipop · 10 months

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＃MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — BEING VULNERABLE WITH YOU.

#. synopsis! — how they show their trust .

#. characters! — jumin, zen (hyun), yoosung, saeyoung (707), saeran (ray), jihyun (v) .

#. warnings! — slight angst.

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — come join my discord server? it's newly opened with a fantasy bakery theme! we have emojis from genshin impact, honkai star rail, sanrio, overwatch, pokemon, mystic messenger, and more! a collection of funny stickers, channels to promote yourself, meet new friends, share your writing/art, + lots more! plus, our staff is very chill and friendly! we'd love to see you there! <;33

＃ JUMIN !! ♡

Jumin, who never really thought himself to be the romantic type, but loses himself so easily in his relationship with you that he’d do anything imaginable just to see you smile for him. This sophisticated, pressed-suit wearing, stone-faced man who just crumbles when it comes to you, —who once thought love was some sick ruse made to rope people in and keep them hostage to their feelings, suddenly realizing that this rush is marvelous, and he can’t quite clearly remember a time before his heart seemed to beat for you. This man who swore he’d never love someone enough to put aside everything else on his mind and just live in the moment who sheds that dry cleaned business attire at the end of every workday and lets himself come undone for you. His walls come down and he welcomes you inside, and for once, he’s not scared of what will happen when you see the parts of him that perhaps aren’t as pretty as others. He lets you see the beautiful mess he’s made of himself over the years, and it’s then that he begins to pick up all these tattered pieces, finally preparing to put himself back together again. And recognizing you’ll help him do so is the sweetest comfort he’s ever known.

＃ HYUN (ZEN) !! ♡

Hyun, who stops pretending to be perfect over time and lets you see him in all the stages of healing. This man who often shields himself from the world, hiding behind a mask of narcissistic confidence, who finally lets his imperfections seep through to the surface and breathes another sigh of relief every single time you stay in the aftermath. He lets you in on the insecurities that lap at his ankles much more often than he'd ever had liked to have admitted before. He lets you hold him when he shatters instead of pushing you away, —dulls all his rigid edges to feel your warmth surround him, as if lowering all his defenses for the very first time. The world can be a cruel place to those that have made mistakes, but Hyun feels like he's finally found someone who can look at him for more than just the pretty, well-kempt face he maintains for the public. There's no sense of shame he feels the need to drown in when you let him fall apart in your arms. There's no crushing feeling of disappointment or suffocating feeling of disdain. He's more human than he fears he's ever been when your thumbs wipe the tears from beneath his eyes and you whisper to him that everything will be okay.

＃ YOOSUNG !! ♡

Yoosung, who learns over time how to not let things fester until they’ve built up so much he can’t keep them in any longer. For all he is and might not ever be, he’s come to realize that it’s okay to express his emotions before they reach a boiling point. He comes to you at the onset of upsetedness, —allows himself to feel frustrated without stuffing it down and pretending the problem doesn’t exist until it explodes. He finds that it’s so much easier to be earnest when you never talk down to him or make him feel like he’s any less of a person in your eyes because of it. Sometimes he needs advice, and other times, he just needs someone to talk to. No matter the case, he seeks you out before anyone else, knowing that you care enough about him to value his thoughts and opinions without qualifiers or regulations. He holds grudges sometimes that aren’t good for his own sake, and being shut down when he tries to address them only adds fuel to the fire. Having someone who truly listens and tells him that it’s okay to feel the way he does goes such a long way, —perhaps longer than you’ll ever know.

＃ SAEYOUNG (707) !! ♡

Saeyoung, who lets himself be honest eventually, —who lets himself chip away and then lets you smooth him over. He’s done a lot of things he’s not proud of, and he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Whether it was or wasn’t doesn’t matter as much as what he knows he has to do going forward, and the last thing he really wants is to be coddled out of pity. He just wants to be heard, no sympathy necessary, no fawning over the way he sheds the skin he used to wear when he felt like happiness was millions of miles away. He just wants to be listened to. To Saeyoung, it’s the ultimate show of trust to admit to all the things he regrets, let them spill out like word vomit and not have to worry about the consequences. He doesn’t need you to understand, and knows you likely can’t given the specifics of his life’s course thus far, but knowing that you’re keen on carrying the burden with him is such an insurmountable feeling of relief. Finally, someone knows every grimy little corner of his soul and they still love him, still hold him, still want him. . . There’s nothing quite like it.

＃ SAERAN (RAY) !! ♡

Saeran, who lets little things slip as time goes on, —stares a little longer when he passes twin popsicles in grocery stores because he knows you won’t ask why. As much as he likes to pretend that he can fix things by pretending they never hurt him in the first place, there are always scars that linger just below the surface, ready to burst at the first sight of mint-colored liquids or at the first sound of deceptively sweet voices offering commands from the shadows. He carries a lot around with him wherever he goes, and just loving him until the sun dies isn’t a cure-all. You can’t turn back time and shield him from all the things in his life that have left him feeling like a shattered stain glass window. All the love in the world can’t fix the past. But there’s nothing that means more to him than knowing he can lean on you, —even if he doesn’t always do it. There’s such a sweet comfort in knowing he can turn to you when he feels like he’s drowning. And if sometimes that manifests only in letting himself shed a few tears while he eats an ice cream cone outside next to you in the sunshine, then so be it.

＃ JIHYUN (V) !! ♡

Jihyun, who talks about it all a little at a time, —about the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful; because it wasn’t always bad. There were times before you came in which he’d been so in love that he’d have done anything to stay exactly where he was, to freeze those moments up and keep them in a capsule that could never be shaken. And it’s important for Jihyun to tell you about those things every now and again, to let you in and reminisce on the way he’d once been so sure of it all, so ready to settle down and stay exactly where he was. But it’s equally as important for him to bare the remnants of the betrayal for you to kiss, and hold, and make peace with. He likes to think you understand him better in the wake of it, —that you’ve seen him in a new light every time he sits with you and tells you of the loss, the desire, the yearning, and all the ways he wishes things could have been different for everyone. In the end, he’s here, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

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creedslove · 1 year

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BETRAYED - PART FOUR

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, Pedro being a dick but also a tiny little bit of fluff

A/N: I'm so sorry but I can't manually tag anyone on the post, the app won't just let me do it!

ALSO, I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHERE TO GO FROM HERE, SO IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS OR SUGGESTIONS LET ME KNOW! 💖

1.3k words

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

"What the fuck are you doing here, Pedro?!" You asked shocked, noticing your voice came out squeaky at the nervousness of the situation. In all the time you've known each other not once he came to your place unannounced and let alone broke into. You honestly had no idea what was that shit about but you didn't like it a bit. It felt so invasive, so creepy, that's definitely something you never expected from Pedro.

The man, on the other hand just scoffed and shook his head, looking at you with angry eyes

"I was just waiting for you, as you don't bother answering my calls nor my texts, I figured I could come and see if you were still alive, which I can see you are, alive and well, by the way, especially after the little date with your new friend. His name is Liev, right? Did you bat your eyes at him and giggled at every single thing he said just like you used to with me?" He got up and walked towards you, staring hardly into your eyes.

"So, you couldn't simply give me a heads-up you weren't coming to my house the other day? You're just too busy to even remember I exist, Y/N? But not to Liev, right? For him you have all the time in the world, what a fucking great friend you are, Y/N!" He said angrily.

You couldn't believe your ears, he had the nerve to come to your place and accuse you of being a bad friend? You clenched your jaw and you could swear if you had the guts you could punch Pedro right there.

You also took a step closer, showing you were not at all intimidated by his scene.

"A bad friend? Are you really calling me a bad friend? You gotta be kidding me, honestly, I can't believe your nerve to say that, if anything you're the bad friend here, you treat me as nothing but a cute pet, someone you like to have around and stroke your ego, but whenever you find something better, you forget I exist"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes

"Is this about the party again? Honestly Y/N what were you expecting? That I would stop my life for you? Just because you have a crush on me?! Please, grow up! You're not a little girl anymore, maybe it's time for you to find a man so you won't bother me anymore?" Pedro raised his voice but immediately regretted what he'd said. He saw how your eyes filled with tears, the disappointment was written all over your face. You swallowed and shook your head "I'm not talking about my feelings for you, I am talking about how bad of a friend you are, how cruel of you was to hump another woman in front of me, ditch me so you could go and fuck her, you left me there, as if I didn't matter, as if you barely knew me!!" You shouted angrily and looked down, drying your tears so he wouldn't see them.

"You're telling me to grow up? How about you fucking grow up? It's about time a man your age, get over this stupid commitment issue you got. For god's sake Pedro, you are nearly 50 years old, no wife, no kids, all your relationships won't last more than a year and you really think the problem is me? You are the fucking problem!" You shouted, not caring if his brown eyed that were often so full of joy were now sparkly with tears.

"I-.. Do you really think that of me, Y/N?" He asked in a low voice,

"I do" you said coldly. Pedro, on the other hand, felt so horrible about everything that happened and above all, about himself. He never believed he would be able to handle a relationship but the assumption you didn't have faith in him shattered his heart, you always saw the good in him, you believed him and supported him when things were so hard he felt like giving things up and now, he had ruined everything, just like he did with everything in his life that wasn't his career. He had given up a chance to be happy, to have his own family, and now he had lost you, he was sure.

You walked to the front door and held it open for him "I'd like you to leave now, you were not invited and I don't want your company, Pedro" . You watched him walk away in silence, turning around and giving you one last glance, blinking his tears and exiting your life.

•••

For the next months the only news you got from Pedro were through reels and headlines that insisted on appearing every time you logged in social media. You'd read somewhere he was shooting another movie in some country you didn't pay attention to, so that assured you you wouldn't risk running into him anywhere you used to go together. You hadn't talked since the day at your house, and you weren't sure if you wanted to talk to him at all, of course it was hard and so many times you had to remind yourself there was no one to send funny pictures you knew he would like, or talk about your interests or even hang out. You felt empty, emptier than you ever did after any romantic relationship you'd ever had. Your friendship with Pedro was intense and even if he didn't like you back, it was a love story, at least on your side of the picture.

Sometimes you wanted to check on him, see if he was doing alright, but you didn't have the guts, you both had hurt each other so bad, and after all, he did tell you to find a man so you'd leave him alone. You always thought of that when you typed a 'Hello' on your conversation, before erasing things up.

He was still the internet's sweetheart and each time a new picture or interview came out, he always seemed happy and excited so you wondered if he missed you at all.

You dropped your phone as you walked into the toy store, you'd been invited for your friend's toddler's birthday party. You'd met Kate through Pedro, he was friends with her husband, but the two of you hit off and you spent a lot of time together and now her sweet little princess Flora was turning three and you were looking forward to spending a cozy afternoon surrounded by happy children and your friend.

You picked the prettiest doll you could find at the store and rushed to Kate's house as you were almost running late.

When you knocked on the door Flora ran as fast as her little legs allowed her to almost bumping into her mommy who opened the door, welcoming you with a nervous smile. You could tell she wanted to say something, but Flora hugged your legs and as soon as you lowered yourself she wrapped her arms around your neck and snuggled you tight.

"Y/N!!!!!!" She squealed happily and her eyes immediately fell onto the beautiful and colorful gift you had in hands, she paid attention to nothing else but the big package and she felt pure happiness and excitement as she opened it and saw the gorgeous doll. Flora clung to you again and giggled

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you Y/N!!" She said overly excited and ran off to play with her new favorite toy.

Kate was distracted for a moment at how glad her daughter was and how cute the two of them were, however, her expression darkened and before you could even greet the other guests, she pulled you to the kitchen, where you two were alone.

"Y/N, before you get into the party, I must warn you… Pedro is here"

-----

A/N: Hi guys, I really hope you have enjoyed this chapter, it was a sad one, I gotta admit and I guess you all got the revenge you wanted on Pedro, he got a taste of his own medicine and it was not good at all! I gotta confess I'm beginning to pity him 🤦‍♀️ and as I said before, I still don't have a lot of ideas for chapter five, so if you guys have anything in mind and want to suggest, let me know! 💖

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #pedro pascal angst #male actor #male actors #hot actors

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half-algorithm-half-deity · 1 year

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MCR moments that send me to the 80% of the ocean we haven't seen yet

Here's parts of My Chem songs that make me feel feelings, in no particular order

The desperate, gritty, sad second "And we'll love again, we'll laugh again, we'll cry again, and we'll dance again", I could write an essay on this part I swear

Vampires will never hurt you: "I'll never let them hurt you, i pROMISE". I believe her every time

Also in vampires pretty much any of the distorted screams like the "COME ON"

ALSO ALSO vamps "Someone get me to the doctor and someone call the nurse" and the entirety of that verse - smashing my head on my desk pounding my fist on the ground palpitating my heart with my ribcage ahhhhh (we're done with vampires I promise)

"l i g h t u p t h e s t a g e a n d w a t c h m e KICK OUT THE JAMS"

Fronk's rabid dog backing vocals in Honey this Mirror

The final line in the Dead! bridge (Is that the most both of you can gi-i-i-ive?) literally leaves me Dead! every single time

The grief-stricked, utterly DESPERATE bridge of Helena

Any Ray Toro solo

But especially Vampire Money (when i speak of the milf it is he who i speak of)

And all of Mama's guitar tings (I am dead in Seattle SIR PLEASEDFRWSASRSEAEW-)

boy division

"I MISS YOU, I MISS YOU SO FAR"

Scarecrow Rocals

" ~ TAKE A TRAIN OUTTA NEW ORLEANS AND THEY SHOT ME FULL OF EPHEDRINE ~ "

early sunsets over monroeville

When all the instruments cut out in the intro to This is How I Disappear and G screams "GO"

Also the unhinged spiraling vocals and instruments during the breakdown of Disappear

The Light Behind Your Eyes

"WAKE UUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPP" - Sleep outro

"I AM NOT AFRAID TO KEEP ON LIVING, I AM NOT AFRAID TO WALK THIS WORLD ALONE" (I spontaneously burst into tears when I first heard this as a depressed 13-year-old, i will never forget that day)

The "WOO" at the very end of Headfirst for Halos

The harmonizing fuckworthy rayrard(?) vocals during "You and I" in Headfirst for Halos (there's probably more but it's most noticeable there)

Aw sugar

Desert Song. Especially the first verse

Mad Gear being so fucking old and so fucking alone in Mastas of Ravenkroft

"The World Is Ugly, but you're beautiful to me"

Also the Vampires reference in the World Is Ugly at the very end

Kiss the Ring: "Fist up, head down, Hail! (Hail!) to the King!"

The weird-ass high-pitched pussy-loaded submissive and breedable squeaky moan in the Sharpest Lives

The "ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta" in Make Room!!!

"When both our CAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSSS COLLIDE"

Heaven Help Us

Planetary dance vibes

Welcome to the Black Parade breakdown bridge thing, and the climactic earth-shattering "I DON'T CARE WE'LL CARRY OONNN" that leveled new jersey

G dropping bars in Heaven Help Us (second verse)

The very rocals in the Ghost of You (Lotms version)

Also rocals "One, two, three, four!" In PP

The background "saaay goodbye"s in To the End

Also To the End funkiness

WE GOT A MEDICAL EMERGENCE MEDICAL EMERGENCY

That part in Tomorrow's Money where I misheard one part as "I fell in love with a vampire / 'M gunna throw you in the air fryer"

The complete incoherence of overlapping yelling and guitar noises before it all stopped with the last "Make Room!!!"

This list will only get longer and longer

#and of course #who could forget #the moans in destroya #mcr #my chemical romance #you brought me your bullets i brought you my love #three cheers for sweet revenge #the black parade #danger days #conventional weapons #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #ray toro supremacy #it is ray toro supremacy month #just like last month #and it will be next month

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chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

Text

She’s My Religion- Part 4: Makes You Believe in Something Above (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- Shadowheart, Isobel, Halsin, and Dame Aylin work to heal you. No one is certain you’ll willingly come back from the land of the Dead. Astarion begs for you to come back to him and he wants to spend forever with you.

CW: mentions of gore, violent themes, mentions of SA, mentions of attempted SA, mentions of grief

*not my pic* reach out if it is yours so I can give you credit!

This is barely edited- my mental health has been ❤️🙈✨horrific ✨🙈❤️

The last thing you remember was hearing Astarion screaming and crying- it broke your heart to hear his painful transformation.

Giving up has been the easiest feeling in the whole world- you didn’t know if you were dreaming or in the Heavens, but being embraced by your mother and father as you let the warm glow of their love sink into your non-existent bones, you didn’t know if you cared.

Your father was still your father and your mother was your mother again. They were both still madly in love with one another, but they miss you terribly.

You asked if you were temporarily here. Your mother smiled and said, “only for now, my Heart.”

You broke down in front of both of them- told them your fears and how scared you are to return to Astarion. You don’t want to be forced into vampirism and you certainly don’t want to be a consort.

Your parents told you that fate is a fickle thing and it’s better to embrace it than run from it- they won’t allow you to give up.

You were so angry- they let you be. You lit fires in the Heavenly grass and you screamed until you couldn’t scream anymore. Both of your parents held you as you sobbed- telling you that you’ll be okay.

After, you decided you weren’t going to squander your last little bit of freedom and time with your parents for Gods knows how long. You will not continue being angry over something you have no control over. You will figure it out- you will be okay.

You laughed, cried, hugged, and talked together for what was probably seconds in the mortal world, but hours in this beautiful space.

Your soul feels broken and healed all at the same time when your consciousness hits you like a wagon and you are still in the Szarr palace. Except you aren’t lying on the ground anymore (you think); the air smells of Astarion and the aroma is intoxicating. At least he still smells the same, but you thought you would be far more blood thirsty for waking up as a Spawn and that Astarion would be a lot less hysterical.

Your body hurts- being only halfway between death and life is a painful balance. All of your muscles are taught, but also loose and heavy at the same time. Your skin is numb, but also still stings with every single mark Cazador had cut into you.

Astarion is holding you up against him while Shadowheart is working to heal you and Gale finishes reading the Revivify Scroll. Astarion’s silent tears are falling into your hair and trailing down your face.

“Don’t leave me here alone,” he whispers pleadingly for only your ears to hear, “I didn’t do it- I didn’t Ascend. You were right- you were right the whole time. I dislike you for it, but it’s true.”

You hear him take a shaky, choked breath- your body still not quite awake enough to show any sign of real change in your condition.

You are in complete shock. He didn’t Ascend? It is all he had been talking about for the last three weeks! It’s what he had wanted so why didn’t he do it.

“I’m so so sorry, my Love, ” he continues to beg quietly, “I want you to come back. I need you to come back to me. I don’t want to be in this world without you.”

He pauses for a second and gently kisses your cheek- exhaling unevenly.

“And then have you beat the shit out of me when I decide to come join you because ‘that absolutely is not what I wanted you to do!’”

His soft impression of you, the broken laugh, and the words themselves make your heart feel like it’s going to shatter. You are fighting to make your breaths more noticeable or move your arm- something to tell Astarion I’m here! I didn’t leave you! You aren’t connected enough to your body right now to use the tadpole so that’s not even an option.

Your body is still so weak- Shadowheart is struggling to find out which poison it is and then you hear the voice of Isobel and the sound of Karlach’s clunky armor in the air as Isobel begins to talk to Shadowheart and Halsin about what they have done so far- what has worked? What hasn’t? How long have you been down? Do you have a reason to refuse to come back?

Everyone responds with a resounding no, but you hear Astarion interject.

“Yes,” Astarion’s voice cracks, “she does have a reason to refuse to come back.

“She didn’t want me to Ascend,” he says solemnly, “and we fought about it and I told her it was over. I was coming back to talk to her about it- try to make her see the reasons I needed to Ascend. To try to explain to her that I was doing it for her too.

“I never would have thought Cazador would hurt her like this. He was always so protective,” he manages to choke out after a long pause, “she’s lost her whole family and now she thinks her life is at risk because of me and my obsession with power. Why would she want to come back?”

“Fangs…”

“No,” he screams, the sound echoing through your body, “don’t try to tell me how much she loves me, how she wouldn’t just leave me! I broke her heart. Tav’s family is dead, gone, no more. It’s not even guaranteed some of us will still be alive at the end of this thing and if I thought my best bet of being free was dying because I thought my EX-boyfriend became a power hungry Demi-God Vampire Hybrid- I WOULD CHOOSE STAYING DEAD TOO!”

At least he gets it, but it’s not his fault though. You had made a conscious decision and you knew it was likely you wouldn’t come back. You had been so certain that you had done the right thing this time- you let him go to be what he wanted to be and to find a consort that better suited what he wanted out of life. You were going to be Tadpole free and happily reunited with the people you care for.

You are hoping that he doesn’t resent you- what if you forced him to make a decision? Did he go into your mind? Was he aware that you had chosen to give up and Gods you hope that isn’t the reason he chose not to Ascend because you could not live with yourself if your selfish decision made him deny himself what he wants.

As you try to connect to your tadpole again, you hear Isobel ask for your arm and then feel her stab you with a needle before the world goes dark.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion clings to you in your shared bed as you sleep peacefully in his arms. Isobel had told everyone she had figured out it was Topor- how? Astarion had no damn clue, but you began to look better immediately after she gave you the injection and you’ve been sleeping since.

Astarion had been worried about you sleeping for so long- Isobel, Shadowheart, Halsin and Gale had to come together to convince him that you are entirely okay, but your body had just been through significant trauma- emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Dalyria told him that Cazador had attempted to force himself on you, but you fought him so hard and for so long (even going as far as escaping for a brief moment) that Cazador gave up- resigning to waiting until you were a compliant spawn. So he gave you the Topor to kick start your agonizingly slow and painful death. Isobel said you maybe only had about an hour and a half left when she had arrived- praising Karlach for getting to her so quickly.

Astarion had actually hugged the tiefling (and for a very long time too) after Dame Aylin took you away to help Isobel clean up and stitch your deeper wounds before attempting to heal them. Karlach had been thrilled, but she also told Astarion that she is really proud of him for not ascending and for releasing the spawn into the Underdark. Oh and no hard feelings for the outburst.

Actually- that had been everyone’s words to him today. No one wanted him to Ascend and maybe he would have been miffed prior to today, but Astarion has finally discovered what all those writers have been saying- love and companionship are the most powerful forces across the planes. Astarion could never have killed Cazador or saved you if he hadn’t met any of his companions.

Everyone wanted to know what changed and he would just shrug- said it didn’t feel right. The actual reason is far more private.

Astarion didn’t change his mind because you had ultimately given up- he knew Ascending meant he could bring you back as his Spawn. The hungry, lustful power offered by Mephistopheles had been entirely too tempting and he is grateful he had disrespected your mental privacy in that moment.

Astarion has been told by Cazador for two hundred years how genuinely unlikeable and weak he is. The lure of the ritual had tried to push him to show Cazador ‘just how weak he truly is’- it was practically begging him to complete it.

Astarion could not be more grateful that Shadowheart announced your possible impending death. He wouldn’t have taken the time to cross your boundaries and explore your mind- just resorting to turning you into something you didn’t want to be because that bloodthirsty Ascension would allow him to have power and you wouldn’t be able to leave him. You would have been unhappy at first, but he would keep you safe- that had been the Magic’s justification.

The love you feel towards him is even more all consuming than any evil power would ever be. Your thoughts- even in your grief- were full of warmth, love, and happiness for him despite how gut wrenching it was to hear your mental distress at the idea of him Ascending.

Astarion realized that he would not be able to feel that with you again if he ascended. He would never truly know what it feels like to be loved ever again- he’d be too busy wanting more power and possessing your entire being like Cazador had wanted to do.

If Cazador could do this much damage to you- what would he be capable of? Astarion would have you physically, but eventually, you would turn into a ghost of yourself- abused and empty. Just like Sebastian and the other unfortunate individuals who had been unlucky enough to cross his path.

Or you’ll be like him and eventually find a way to kill him so you can be free. Either way he ends up losing you.

Astarion thought that he would feel relief and happiness when he finally killed Cazador, but he actually felt heartbroken when the man dropped to the floor. It pisses him off even now, but Halsin had said something to him afterwards that had somehow been beneficial.

“It’s okay to grieve your chains after you have spent so long learning to love them- to survive them.”

So he sits here and grieves the last shitty 200 years while holding your sleeping form because you make him feel steady and you keep him on the ground. The hint of your perfume and the clean linens is soothing. You are softly snoring and the sound fills his heart with glee.

You are here and you are alive. He doesn’t have to grieve you or himself and that’s all that matters to him at the end of the day.

There is a quiet knock on the door as Isobel, Dame Aylin, and Shadowheart walk in. They tell him they are going to do a group healing prayer over you that should help you feel better and stronger much faster than if they continue to heal you individually.

It was clear it was a ceremony that was “need to know” and Astarion was promptly kicked out of the room. Realistically the whole thing took about 10 minutes, but Astarion felt like he had to wait for hours for them to be done.

When they are finally done- he races back into the room and makes sure not a single hair is out of place. Astarion worries that he’ll be a nervous wreck if you are out of his sight for a while and he hopes you understand.

Astarion tidies up your stuff in the corner of your shared room (the couples were finally told they need to get their own lodgings) when he hears you gasp for air before you frantically look around the room as quickly as your exhausted body can from where you are- your limbs and neck figuratively glued to the bed.

You haven’t seen Astarion just yet, but he wants to assume he might be the one you are looking for and he’s right. Your eyes land on him and your lip is trembling as you look at him- tears drenching your cheeks instantaneously.

Astarion drops your armor, hastily gets into the bed, and holds you while leaving gentle kisses on your hairline. You hold onto him like you are afraid you may never see him again. Your hands are weakly twisted into his shirt and he can just barely hear you begging him not to leave you between heavy sobs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, “unfortunately for you- I’m never allowing you to leave my sight again, Darling.”

Your laughter comes out as a painful wheeze and Astarion runs circles into your back as you ride out the pain. You snuggle into Astarion’s chest and a sigh of relief escapes your lips. Astarion thinks you may go back to sleep, but then you tense up ever so slightly and he almost misses what you say to him next.

“You didn’t give up on what you wanted for me- did you?” Your voice is small and troubled, “I don’t want to be the thing that kept you from having what you wanted.”

“Yes and no, but not in a bad way,” Astarion says, not wanting you to worry any longer, “I realized that Ascending meant losing myself and you- even if I did bring you back to life as a Spawn, you would have been miserable and unhappy.

“I also realized that my love for you and your love for me is far more valuable to me than all the power in the world. If he could do all of those horrible things to you- what would I be capable of? It just clicked. I realized to Ascend would be to destroy what we have and I wouldn’t be keeping you or me safe- I’d be keeping us captive by selling my soul to Mephistopheles.”

You are so quiet that Astarion thinks you fell asleep, but then he feels your tears begin to stain the fabric of his sleeve.

“I wa- I-,” you are struggling through your tears, “I was so sure I was losing you forever or I was going to be stuck with him forever. I never thought this would be the end result.”

“I, for one, am much happier with this result.”

“Me too,” you smile brightly at him, your voice sounding less retired and rough.

Astarion just takes in your face looking at him, tracing your features with his hands. You are only in your undergarments and lots of medical wrappings due to the amount wounds Cazador had inflicted upon your body.

They must have just cleaned and changed all the wrappings though because the scars that were more superficial are no longer wrapped- just bright red ish purple scars.

The deeper ones on your sides are the ones that had worried Isobel. She had to heal, stitch, heal, and then stitch again before the wound itself finally stayed close. Halsin had been able to cast something to prevent you from waking up during the process and Shadowheart had poured something into your mouth so you wouldn’t feel the pain.

Dame Aylin had shook her head and looked at him.

“After a century or five, it stops weighing on your soul so much- the torture and the pain,” she slowly looks at you, her eyes sad and empathetic, “but that first time? You will never forget that.”

Astarion is probably the only one who knows your Step-dad is a horrible pig, but Astarion had already taken care of that. He also can’t deny that Cazador’s torture is a thousand times worse than anything Bridil could do.

You begin to trace Astarion’s features with your fingers and it jolts him out of his thoughts. Astarion leans in and begins to kiss your lips slowly- taking his time to breathe you in.

There is a question on Astarion’s tongue, but he isn’t sure if he should ask just yet. He wants you to know that he is asking out of readiness and not from a “I thought I almost lost you forever”. Not that he doesn’t want to- he just wants to make sure it’s perfect and not rushed. Astarion has been thinking about this question for a long while now- you are his partner, his best friend, his family.

Astarion has waited for what feels like a lifetime to find someone like you and he wants to spend a whole eternity more with you. He just hopes you’ll say “I do” because Tav Acunín has a very lovely ring to it.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #bg3 astarion

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lostalioth · 10 months

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❛ don’t worry, i’m staying right here. ❜

Marc spector x female reader💛

Marc feeling that the reader has left his bed so he leaves his room to find her on the sofa having an anxiety atack.

A bit angsty but mostly fluffy💗💗

now this is my first writing for marc but i loved this so much and I accidentally made it more fluffy than angsty

𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 – 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘳

→ warnings: nicknames [babe, baby, sweet girl], description of shooting and dead body, panic/anxiety attack, angst, mostly fluff.

Before you can think of a plan to get away or even register the sound and what has happened Harrow pulls the trigger and shoots Marc right in the heart. You feel your world and your heart shatter into a million pieces all at the same time as you watch his body hit the water. blood gushes through his shirt around the wound and you need to cover your mouth fast to stop yourself from screaming. Tears quick to brim your eyes threatening to fall as you watch in horror as Harrow's men pull your boyfriend's body from the water, you wanted to scream, run at them, even if it meant simply dying alongside your boy.

Once his body was on flat ground his men stepped back letting Arthur set something small and shiny on his chest. He’s quick to leave Ammits tomb with the goddess in hand who was encased in a tiny stone statue, you turn the corner from your hiding spot the minute they leave and run right to Marc.

“Marc! Steven! Please my love, either of you please..” your voice gets caught in your throat and you choke on it. Tears began to softly stream down your face as you kissed his forehead and placed your hand over the scarab on his chest. Your heart feels like it’s been ripped from your chest, fighting to hold back the gut reaching scream that’s bubbling in your throat.

You’re jolted awake in a sweating, out of breath haze. Your heart feels like it's gonna jump out of your chest with how fast and hard it's beating. Your chest heaving hard, you felt like you couldn’t breathe properly no matter how hard you tried. head spinning, your eyes filling with hot tears, clouding your vision. It felt so real, you couldn’t even tell if you were still dreaming or not. You didn't know what was real, you couldn’t stop relaying the moment the shot rang through your ears and you watched the love of your life’s body hit the water. That sight is burned into your memory, every single detail of it.

Being so wrapped up in your spiraling thoughts you are startled at Marc placing a hand on your shoulder. He had been woken up by the jarring shift of your body besides him. His hair was all disheveled and fluffed up, his eyes half lidded, you’d make a comment of how cute he looked if only you could speak and weren’t in the middle of a panic attack.

“Babe…what’s wrong?” Once he woke up a bit more he took in your appearance, you were hunched over the edge of your shared bed, a hand on your chest, eyes brimming with even more tears and labored and inconsistent breathing. He pushes his way up out of bed to come sit beside you on the edge of the bed, it sinks down as he slowly sits down, he’s never seen you this way, it's slightly scaring him as well as steven.

“Hey..hey baby what happened..?” He is slow and careful as he reaches his hand to place on your knee in an attempt to calm you. The last he wanted was to startle you again. “Night-nightmare…of that night in the-the tomb…” your voice was so hushed and shaky Marc almost couldn’t understand you but the moment your wobbly words sank in, his heart sank to his stomach with them. More tears stream down your cheeks as you watch fear flash on his face, as if his sequence of events of that night just replayed in his own head.

“Thought i lost you all over again…” your words came out a little less shaky this time and yet your words break Marc’s heart all the same. “Oh..sweet girl…” he sighs and he softly wipes away your tears as they fall. You lean into his touch, your heart aching like you haven’t seen him in years, you needed to touch him, needed to know he was real. As he’s wiping your tears away you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his. “Need to know you're really there….” You mumbled into the kiss and through your tears, your eyes squeezed so tightly shut like you wanna never open them up again as if he’d simply disappear the moment you do.

He grunts and shuts his eyes, kissing you back deeply and softly. A kiss so full of love, devotion and tenderness, a kiss that restores the breath in your lungs. Marc softly pulls you in close by the waist and lays the both of you down, the both of you holding onto one another for dear life.

You both pull away slowly, limbs intertwined and panic subsided. “Dont worry im staying right here baby…” he whispers softly as he presses a small reassuring kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m right here my sweet girl, nobody’s taking me away from you, not even over my dead body” he smiled sweetly and rubs his thumb over your stomach and hip.

You hit him lightly for his poorly timed joke and rub circles on the back of his neck. You’ll always forever be thankful for whatever in the hell happened that allowed marc to come back to you, and steven. You needed them both more than they knew.

“I love you” you whisper softly as you and marc drift off to sleep, body’s wrapped around one another, like your souls, forever intertwined.

→ a/n: so i fully intended on posting this a while ago but never did anyway, i kinda forgot a bit of the request like she was supposed to leave the bed but im still a bit rusty after a long ass hiatus again and i barely proof read this cause i wanted to post today!! I love Layla but for this to work reader pretty much sorta is Layla/replaces her but you and marc aren’t married lol

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byechristopher · 5 months

Note

loveeed your fwb chris headcanons can you do a confession fic ab it that is all angsty and shit where he’s high and confesses or where reader confesses? whatever you want

I Want More.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.

Author's note: thank you so much for the request! I hope you all like it, cuties.🤍 Mwuah. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, nothing too much!

"No strings attached, okay? You can hook up with other people if you want, it's none of my business."

"I wouldn't actually mind being with you, you know?"

"Well, yes, I'm just.. relationships are not for me. Sorry."

The words that he said to me when we first started appear in my head every single time he is in my sight. It could be because it hurt so much that I cannot forget, it could also be for the better – because to get hurt is the only way to move on, apparently. Whichever it was, it hurt.

His hand wakes me up from my thoughts when it goes up to my hair, stroking it, "wanna meet tonight?" Chris whispers in my ear, our whole friend group is next to us but he doesn't really seem to care anyway.

"Yes. My house." I nod and he smiles, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh.

And tonight comes. He's all over me, inside me, I kiss him everywhere, he's rough and I love it, I pull his hair, he squeezes me, I scratch his skin, it's messy. One of those nights, that we both need to let it out. Once we're done, he pulls me into a big hug, his hand bringing mine close to his mouth so that he can kiss it.

"You're beautiful." he says and my heart beats a little faster at that. It's amazing; that power that he has on me.

"So are you." I whisper.

He leaves. My hearts shatters.

Another day, we're hanging out again. He's stealing kisses with every chance that he gets, my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. He caresses my thighs under the blanket, he plays with my fingers.

I tell him I want him. I whisper.

"My house, 8PM." he says.

And again, 8PM comes, I'm at his house, he's alone. He takes me by the hand and makes me follow him to his room – he's got candles all over the room, flowers. Is this a dream?

I can't wait, I can't keep my hands to myself. I slowly hug him from behind, kissing from the nape of his neck, all the way down to his lower back, undressing him very slowly. He does the same thing to me too. The night goes on, he's so slow, so gentle, he's filling me with his love and its so overwhelming that I want to cry, he seems overwhelmed too. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear and touches me with ways no one has ever done before. He tells me he loves me. I hold on to him and we both look desperate and filled with love for each other as he makes love to me.

When we're done, the dream is over. He's still holding me, he's still whispering his usual i love you's in my ears but there's something inside me that weighs me down, something that can utterly destroy me, "Chris. I think we need to stop this thing between us." he freezes.

"What? Why?" he whispers.

"I don't feel like doing it anymore, sorry. It's for the better." I try to be as cold as possible, because if I actually say all the things I want to say, I feel like I will scream and cry till my voice is lost.

It's been quite a few days since we last spoke and every time I think about it, the image of him covering himself with his blanket, looking devastated when I left, always comes to mind. I feel bad but I need to be selfish this time.

A call rudely interrupts my thoughts and I sigh – a call? It's 3AM. I check the screen and I see his name. My hearts races.

"Hello?"

"Come outside. I want to see you." he almost slurs. He's either drunk, or high. Or both.

"Go back home, Chris. I wanna sleep."

"I'm not leaving. Please." he sniffles.

I sigh and hang up. I walk towards the door and I stand there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There he is. With his hoodie and his jeans. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess.

"You'll get cold. Go home." I whisper and he comes closer.

"I don't care. I wanted to be with you." his voice is hoarse.

"Why?" I look at him, hugging myself because shit, it actually is very cold.

"We need to talk." he nods to himself.

"We have nothing to talk about, Chris. You made it very clear that you wanted nothing but sex. I did, too. But I knew I felt something deeper." I say and he comes closer but I stop him, "no. I am talking. You kept messing with my head, making love to me, getting all romantic and shit, bringing flowers everywhere – that's not how friends with benefits are, Chris." I sigh.

He chews on his bottom lip nervously, "I don't know how to do this. I thought you liked how things were." he says.

"I did! But it got too much for me, Chris. I want more. And until you grow a pair and admit to yourself that you are able to fall in love too, that you want this as much as I do, I want nothing to do with you." I clear my throat.

He clenches his jaw and I notice that his eyes are glistening, like he is about to cry, "so is this the end?"

"I suppose so. Yes." I desperately try to gold back my own tears. He nods and turns around. He's not moving just yet but I can't watch him leave again, so I close the door behind him and I feel my world crumbling.

What was I thinking? That I would change him? That he would finally admit that he loves me too? That we would live the dream together? That he would just give me a kiss and tell me that he wants to be with me? How embarrassing.

That's it.

The next day, my heart hurts like a bitch, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest for once. Maybe it's because I finally told him how I felt. And maybe because I got an answer, too – he doesn't want to be with me. It hurts, but it's an answer.

A knock on the door wakes me up again and I walk towards it, only to see an envelope. Someone must've pushed it inside. I get a little scared to open the door right away and I don't have a peephole so I just decide to open the envelope.

"I decided that since I have never been able to talk about my feelings, because I'm too much of a fucking coward, I will just write everything down and I will have to find the courage to give it to you.

I don't know why I've got such a problem expressing my feelings like a fucking adult should, but I can't stand the thought of losing you, let alone losing you because of me being a coward. So this letter is for you (I know how much you like all this sappy shit and worst part is, you made me like them too).

I've been in love with you since the day we started "officially" being friends with benefits. You know I couldn't keep my hands off of you, or my eyes. I would get jealous and possessive because you know I never want anyone else to touch you like I do. Or see you like I do. I made love to you because this was the only way to express my love for you – your heart would beat so fast and I would want to cry from how much you filled me with love and passion. Is that normal? I honestly don't know.

Anyways, for an asshole who doesn't know how to speak properly, I think I've written enough. If you think that this letter is me finally growing a pair, then please open the door because it's really fucking cold.

PS – this time my i love you's are changed."

I am ugly crying by the time I finish the letter, but I don't care because I open the door and Chris is outside, crying as well.

"I can't lose you. I promise, I will try for you. I will do anything for you." he whispers.

I quickly throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest, hugging him so tightly that if I was stronger, he would stop breathing for sure, "I love you, Chris."

"I am in love with you too."

"Your handwriting still sucks."

"Fuck off."

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wayfayrr · 5 months

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Copy and pasted This was a request from @yourlocaltreesimp and @sketchyspook as a continuation of self aware sky!! This man has my heart and soul <3 we've got two skies trying to come to terms with each other while reader is stuck in the middle <33 Btw if ever there's a one shot you'd ever like a continuation of I'll always be happy to write it if you drop a request <3 seeing as that's how this came to be in full, I had no intention to carry on with sky otherwise The first - second

[masterlist]

... “And why do you look just like me?”

This is so different to what happened the first time, he’s less emotive with his face still rigged to the model the way he’s moving seems far more stiff like he’s fighting against the game. The biggest difference though?

He’s petrified.And not of any one thing in particular every single thing is setting him off, from how my link is looking at him to even the feeling of his skin from what I can see. Link - the one on my side I mean - is hard to read, tensing up, gritting his teeth and looking at his other self like a threat.

“Why are you both just looking at me like that - what - I - I - please I can’t handle anyone else keeping me in the dark - no one seems to remember my name - my real name- I don’t… this is all so… so”

Even his crying sounds similar to link’s - my link’s - oh I’ll need to come up with nicknames for them both now otherwise there won’t be an end to the confusion. Anyway it sounds similar, but far more broken, almost as if he’s having an existential crisis during his breakdown which, to be fair, is probably what is happening. One of us needs to explain everything to him and with links reaction? I think it’s going to be up to me. With a quick glance at link telling him to stay out of this, moving to sit closer to the screen to talk to him face to face like a real person, all I have to do is hope that it goes well; that he doesn’t do anything rash.

“Link - I’ll explain whatever you want explained to you that I can with what I know, you just need to calm down enough to ask alright?”

That stopped the crying, his head jerkily moving so that his eyes can meet mine with each movement he makes becoming more fluid and natural. Each second that passes only seeming to bring him more alive all the while link behind me only seems to be getting more upset over it all.

“I - I - Yeah… I can calm down, th-ank you..?”

“[name], you can call me that if you want or whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Ri-ight then feather, what’s happening - why are you watching me? And why - why does he look like me?”

Anomaly, I think that’ll suit him, didn’t take kindly to me being called a nickname so quickly but he’s the one who wanted to play the game so badly so he’s got to suck it up. Besides it’s not like he’s got to shatter someone's worldview, hopes and life, that falls on me. I can comfort anomaly later on, when this is cleared up.

“Link you, aren’t real. You’re the character the player controls to play through this game you’re in, we weren’t just watching you, he was controlling you.”

“...”

“As for why he looks like you? He is you, a version of you anyway.”

“One who managed to learn about it and get out on his own, guess that makes me your better self huh?”

Because that was the right thing to tell a version of yourself having a breakdown, he had the decency to at least look a little ashamed when I turned to look at him. Not that his remorse helps how replay seems to have gotten worse again, this time the sound of crying pairing with tears streaming down his digital face. Even if he isn’t the same link I’ve been living with, his tears still hurt far more than any wound.

“So none of it - nothing - I went through is real, I’m not real? This is all for nothing, Zelda's not, she isn’t real either, so she, I’ve been through so- You helped me through it all…”

“Link..?”

“He - I? - said he got out, I - so that means I can too right? You - You’re not going to put me through everything, through learning all of that and keep me trapped in here right? Please [name], feather, please don’t make me stay here.”

“So you can try to take the love I earned? [Name] you were right I should never have played it.”

Oh, he knows exactly the right way to word it to hurt replay as much as he possibly can, it’s like he feels some sickening joy at this version of himself sobbing his heart out and knowing he’s the cause of the pain. Replay’s face has nothing more than horror on it now, he’s more scared than earlier. Hopefully anomaly comes to his senses soon so he doesn’t traumatise him any more than he already has.

“Link, can you go getmy first aid kit and some extra bandages? I think they’re in the bathroom.”

“Wait dove you’re not planning to - right?”

“I didn’t leave you stuck and come on, love. I know you don’t actually hate him.”

“I - sure, for you though, no other reason.”

He didn’t fight me back at all, proving my own point that he most likely just feels threatened when he has no reason to be. Maybe replay staying with us will even be good for him, I know he’s been struggling adapting to being real and not having anyone who he can really relate to; replay being a version of himself in a very similar spot should really help.

“[name]... you told him not to play? W-were you scared of this - of me learning? Of me being an issue… is that why you told him not to?”

“It wasn’t about you coming to life persay, I said it as a joke about how he got out of the game. He broke something that was very expensive to replace and I was teasing him over it. I know he was just saying that to hurt you though, so don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll calm down if you give him some time.”

Arguably it feels more like I’m facetiming someone now, his movements are so life-like he’s just like a real person, just in time for him to show a shy smile. Was this what anomaly would’ve looked like if he wasn’t in such a rush to get out that he was on the verge of corrupting the data while he was still in it. It’s unnerving, but less so than when he shoved his hand through the screen without warning.

“Besides I think I have a way to prevent you from breaking anything hopefully, my boyfriend’s just getting it set up. It shouldn’t take long but seeing as we have a bit of time… is there anything else you wanted to ask or do you wanna talk for a bit?”

He seems flustered now, blushing red and everything, it’s kinda sweet more but does this me that he’s also. Be real with yourself [name] what are the odds that the same guy fell for you twice. Those would probably be higher wouldn’t they now I think on it. That look in his eye doesn’t make sense if he’s not as much as I hate to think it. It’s the same way anomaly looks at me, tamer yes but still has the same obsessive energy behind it, like he wants me to give him permission or he doesn’t understand why he feels like the way he does. Hopefully it won’t cause issues. He seemed to back away a little when I felt arms wrap around my shoulders, clearly someone wasn’t as pleased with how he was looking at me, while the other doesn’t like not having my attention. A nip at my ear was all I needed to turn back to him.

“I hope you understand why I don’t like this, I love you far too much to consider losing you to another version of myself… but I did go and get the first aid kit like you asked. I don’t see why he needs it, can’t he just bring a potion with him or down a guardian potion beforehand?”

“Thanks love, I really appreciate it. You do have a point though, but still it’s better to prepare for the worst.”

“This isn't going to change anything between us, because I can’t lose you my player, just - just promise me that alright?”

“Of course link.”

Then the promise was sealed with a kiss to his cheek, tension leaving him instantly now that he knows his position as my partner isn’t at threat. Honestly it’s so cute how territorial he gets, nothing bad has ever happened and he’s the best partner you could ever want outside of that so really it’s not much of an issue. Other than that how many people can say their ‘fictional’ crush both reciprocates and gets possessive of them, it’s a very small number as far as I’m aware. Now all that’s left to do is for replay to break his way out. Replay’s already tearing up again.

“So then me what do I have to do to get out, and - and to throw away my past.”

“Break the screen, put your hand up against it and break the glass. I’ll be honest though, it will hurt a lot.”

“So I should take a potion right, to make it hurt less?”

“I didn’t take one, but if you feel you’ll need it. Go ahead, it’ll only prove you’re less than me.”

That final insult seemed to make replay steel himself, gripping a potion in his hand staring at it like it was what threatened him instead. He didn’t drink it though. Instead he opted to take his shield and use the pointed base to break through, faster and arguably much smarter than my beloved anomaly did, reaching out afterwards to pull himself out leaving my tv in a broken pile yet again but replay himself was left relatively unharmed in comparison. Was link really that desparate to be with me before? I can’t say that I’m not flattered by that, I only wish he took his own health into consideration. Now I’m simply stuck between the two of them staring at each other, I wonder how long it will take them to grow up and stop silently arguing.

#I won't lie if you want a long request written fast by me? any self aware boy.#I will write it within a day of starting it - it's an issue :]#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #lu sky #lu sky x reader #yandere link #yandere link x reader #yandere legend of zelda #self aware au #moss✦writes

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unseededtoast · 8 months

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See How It Shines | Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You had left the Quantico office for what you thought was your dream job. However, you were quick to find out that you lost a lot more than you found. The love of your life walked away from you, but your love for him never waned. But you can't help but wonder if his soul yearns for you like yours does for him.

Cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3

Warnings: Angst, so much angst, pining. Poorly edited.

Word count: 8.2k

a/n: Howdy, this is the first time I've written for Spencer, and I can't guarantee that the quality is good. This is inspired by Hozier's song "Abstract". Here is my masterlist!

"So that's it then? You're just going to leave?" His voice cracks, and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

"Spencer." You whisper and reach out for his face to wipe the tears away, but he flinches from your touch. An overwhelming sensation of sorrow blossoms in you as you watch him shake his head and walk away.

A single tear drips from your face and lands on the floor. The love of your life walks away from you and you don't know if you'll ever see him again.

A steady stream of light rain surrounds you as you stare up at an all too familiar building, your nerves not allowing you to take another step closer just yet. Memories of the past float around in your mind as you contemplate turning around and finding some excuse of why you never showed up. But you know you can't just leave, you can't help yourself. With all the courage you can muster, you force yourself inside of the building, where the cold air hits your wet skin and leaves goosebumps all over.

Each step that you take towards the office, your heartbeat resounds in your ears and your stomach feels like it's been tied into numerous knots. This office used to be like your second home, but now it's like seeing a ghost, a place frozen in time, unchanged. You recall the first day you walked into this building, bright eyed and hopeful for the future which starkly contrasts the last time you left. That memory is tattooed in your mind, unable to forget despite giving it your best effort.

Your chest begins heaving with deep breaths as you find yourself just outside of the elevator and you have to find every last shred of strength within you to not get sick all over the floor. With a shaking hand, you press the button to call the elevator. You've been on this elevator ride more times than you can count, but that was back then, under different circumstances.

The doors close, leaving you alone in the elevator. In an attempt to soothe yourself, your clammy hands grasp the railing and you close your eyes, trying to calm your racing mind. Invasive thoughts crowd your head all at once, remembering who used to ride this elevator with you every morning and how you're going to have to face him once more after that last ride. Before you're ready, the doors open and you have no choice but to step out.

With each approaching step it feels like you're making your way through wet concrete, your feet feel like they're being tethered to the floor, not wanting to progress forward. Once you reach the office's door, it feels like every set of eyes is on you instantly. But perhaps that's just your paranoia.

Keeping your head held high in a faux display of confidence, you look around and see your old desk, still empty and unoccupied. And to your relief, his desk is unoccupied as well but you can tell there are files waiting for him. A clap on your shoulder breaks you from your mental downward spiral and you jump slightly from the contact.

"It's good to have you back, even if it is just for a few days." A familiar voice says from behind you, and you turn to see Derek Morgan with a wide smile on his face. A smile breaks out on your face as well and you embrace your old friend,

"It's good to be back." You say as he wraps his arms around your waist for a brief reunion. You step away from him and sigh, looking around for any other familiar faces, hoping to see all but one.

"He won't be here for another half hour." Morgan says as if he can read your mind. Without delving into that can of worms, you settle for nodding your head and changing the subject.

"Is Hotch here? He said he was going to give me the run down." You say, straightening your jacket to distract yourself from the intruding voice in your mind. Morgan nods his head and takes you to the briefing room, where you find two of your other ex-colleagues, both with smiles on their faces.

"It's good to see you guys." You force yourself to greet them first, taking note of the faltering smile on Emily's face. Knowing the reason for the fake smile, you turn to Hotch who extends his hand to you. Emily does nothing of the sort, and you can't blame her, you understand.

"Here's your file to look over. We'll be wheels up in an hour." Hotch hands you a brown file folder and you nod, opening the front of it to familiarize yourself with the case you'll be assisting them on. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Emily leaving the room, leaving you and Hotch alone.

You and Hotch had developed a close bond while you worked for the Quantico office and it seems that your departure did not interfere with his sentiments towards you. Closing the file, you meet his gaze and you can tell that there's a lot he wants to say, but you also know he won't go out of his way to gossip. Instead of making him suffer with the burden of professionalism, you break the ice first, trusting him more than the others to give you the truth.

"How bad is this going to be?" He knows your question isn't about the case, and he sighs.

"It'll be fine." His tone betrays the words coming out of his mouth, much to your dismay. He's trying to keep you on board with the idea, even if it means faking positivity.

"And you're sure I can't just stay here and help Garcia?" You try one last time to worm out of this assignment, knowing you didn't take it willingly. Hotch shakes his head,

"Sorry, no can do. Garcia is helping another unit and we need you there with us. You know it's easier to get immediate feedback." He strikes down your last attempt and you nod, knowing that he's completely right.

"Okay, see you on the jet." You defeatedly say and take your file folder with you out of the conference room. The uneasiness in your stomach only intensifies with each passing second, knowing that you're closer and closer to confronting your past.

Instead of staying out in the open office space, you find somewhere to hide for the next forty five minutes, like a coward. You find a quiet corner in the breakroom and sit at the table, spreading the contents of the folder out in front of you. Maybe if you fully immerse yourself in the case then this assignment won't be that bad, or at least that's what you're trying to convince yourself of.

The papers in front of you detail the unsub the team is going after. Being familiar with this unit, your brain automatically disregards the information that isn't pertinent to your job. You're not a behavioral profiler like the rest of them, and so the information about picking apart the unsub's actions isn't as important to your job. Instead, you focus on the details regarding the unsub's internet use and who has been targeted. In a way, you're profiling the unsub, you just do it differently than the rest of the team.

As an intelligence analyst, you're more concerned with known usernames, websites frequented, how the unsub uses social media, that sort of thing. You're more interested in establishing a pattern of online behavior that can give insight to an unsub's activity that might not be apparent from the crime scenes left behind. During your time at the Quantico office, this type of analysis has been helpful in over forty cases.

As you read on and mark specific details to help you, your mind reverts to what it knows best; the job. Your thoughts are no longer concerned with facing your past, and all you can think of is how to use the information provided to aid your search. Your dedication to the job is also what landed you in this predicament in the first place, but you try not to dig into what that might mean.

"Hey, there you are, we've been looking for you all over. Wheels up in five." Morgan says and you nod, quickly shoving the papers back into the file and clipping the pen over the front cover. You must've lost track of time, too engrossed in searching for the smallest of details.

Taking the familiar path to the unit's private jet is almost nostalgic, and you kind of miss being able to do this. The Cleveland office never deploys agents like Quantico does, but they offered the position of a lifetime, and you couldn't turn it down. But sometimes, most times, you wish you had. You found that you lost far more than you gained.

The rest of the team is on the jet by the time you and Morgan arrive, and you rush in, mumbling out an apology as you take a seat in the back, where you'll hopefully be left alone for the duration of the flight. As you take your seat and prepare for takeoff, you can feel everyone's eyes burning into you and your heart rate increases, knowing that the one person you'd wanted to avoid is definitely here. His presence is overwhelming and you haven't even looked at him yet. Your heartstrings tug with remorse and pain, remembering the last time you two were on the jet, when things were good.

Knowing you've already gathered all the information you can from the file, you open it again anyways and act like you're deep in thought. Though the profilers can probably see right through this, none of them say anything.

It's a demanding task to keep your eyes trained on the file for the majority of the flight, but after a while your neck starts aching from poor posture. You quietly place the file on your lap and stretch out your muscles, massaging the side to find some temporary relief. You notice that almost everyone has elected to take a nap until the plane lands, but unfortunately, one person opted to stay awake.

Your eyes meet his and it's like the entire world caves in.

His hazel eyes hold your own and you can't stop the racing images in your mind, they're all so vivid. You remember the first time you met him, how you two became so quickly entangled in one another without even noticing. Your feelings for him had encroached on you so subtly, that you didn't even realize how deeply and richly you loved him until you said goodbye.

You'll never be able to erase that moment from your mind. The day you told him you accepted the Intelligence Director job in Cleveland, and that you were transferring. Tears had been running down his cheeks, and you tried to console and comfort him, but there was nothing you could do, the damage had been done. And not a day has gone by that you didn't think of him.

Now that you're face to face with him again, it's like the poorly-repaired crack in your heart has been reopened. You want nothing more than to reach out and feel his soft skin under your fingertips one more time. Though you were the one who broke things off, you mourned the lost relationship with him. Things with him just fell into place, the two of you brought out the best in each other.

But now, looking into his eyes, you notice the spark behind them is gone and only a dull light remains. Your mouth falls open like you're going to say something, but he looks away before your mind can come up with anything to say. Not that he has to listen to anything you say, you understand if he wants nothing to do with you this entire trip.

Truthfully, you were surprised Morgan had welcomed you back so warmly. You knew that by leaving Quantico, and also the love of your life, that you had hurt the team. The team is so intimately woven together, that your departure had left a bad taste in their mouths. Of course some were more understanding, but there were also those who took it more personally. And you can't blame them, after all you broke the heart of the most caring, tender soul in the world.

Realizing you're staring at the side of his face, you tear your gaze away from him and your mind forces you to relive one of your most regrettable moments.

-----

"I took the job in Cleveland. I leave in two days." The words tumble out of your mouth as the elevator door dings and opens to the main lobby. You had tried to find the right time to tell him, but the clock was ticking and time was running out. The hand intertwined with yours drops as the two of you step out into the lobby.

"What?" He says with clear exasperation and disbelief. You had mentioned four months ago that you were interested in the job, and he had encouraged you to at least apply. But that was before you two had become so deeply involved in one another.

"They called me the other night and said they would love to have me as soon as possible. I applied months ago and I didn't think they'd actually consider me for the position." You try to explain to him that you didn't do this after you had grown close. He shakes his head, and you see wetness gather in his lash line.

"So that's it then? You're just going to leave?" His voice cracks, and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

A single tear drips from your face and lands on the floor. The love of your life walks away from you and you don't know if you'll ever see him again.

-----

The plane lands and everyone grabs their belongings before filing out. You intentionally take a longer time to gather the few belongings you had brought along, and you're careful to make sure he's out of the plane before you leave.

You hang back from the team while they all get ready to head to the hotel to check in before going to the crime scene. They're all discussing their theories about the unsub and you listen in, but make no move to interject like you used to. Instead, you silently get into the SUV and keep your gaze focused on the moving landscape.

Once everyone is at the hotel and checked into their rooms, you let yourself drop the façade. The door behind you shuts and you slide down until you're sitting on the floor, the ache in your chest making it feel as if you can't catch your breath. You knew this was going to be hard, but you never thought it would feel this suffocating. It seems that while the world and the team had moved on, you remain stuck in the memory of what used to be. And you're not sure if you'll ever be able to truly move on. You're not sure if you want to move on.

A knock on your door forces you to stand back on your feet, and you hurriedly throw your things on the bed before returning and answering the door. Morgan stands on the other side, leaning against the doorframe. He smiles softly as he meets your eye and you're quick to put your front back up with a smile.

"Are we ready?" You ask and he nods. You follow him without another word, tucking the keycard into the pocket of your jacket.

"You know you don't have to act like an outsider, it's just us." He tries to soothe your obvious discomfort.

"It feels like I'm an outsider." You admit to him and he stops walking as he continues the conversation.

"None of us blame you for taking the job, it was good for your career. And whatever happened between you and Reid, it was two years ago." He says like the time makes things easier to handle, when in fact, the time just made your heart grow heavy with loss. You avert your eyes from him and nod, starting to walk back down the hall to avoid continuing this conversation.

Once you all had arrived to the scene, you hung around the back. You weren't really needed here, but the team likes to have you here so that you can be up to date with all the information they have. Once their assessment of the scene is complete, that's when you'll go back to the police station where you'll set up your work space for the remainder of the case.

The team and the local police discuss what's been found so far. There was a young male found deceased, gun in his hand with an apparent self-inflicted gunshot. However, there were a few details that suggested that this was not a suicide. The angle at which the bullet entered the victim's head was inconsistent with suicide, and the gun wasn't laying in the manner it should have given the bullet's trajectory. The victim's phone had gone missing in this area as well, but nobody's been able to recover it yet; maybe the unsub took it with them.

The behavioral analysts comb over the scene with intense precision, and you begin looking at things from a different perspective. Your mind begins constructing several theories about where the gun came from, what significance this place has, and where the victim's phone is. As your mind races, your hand scribbles messy notes so you don't lose your train of thought.

Feeling as if someone's looking at you, your gaze turns from your sloppy notes to look around. From the other side of the crime scene, those familiar hazel eyes look into your own, as if they can see into your soul. As soon as your eyes meet, he's turning away and back to the scene, where he points something out to Hotch and then goes on a tangent about the history of something.

You try your best to listen in, needing to hear his honeyed voice. In the two years you had been gone, your mind had failed you and forgot how sweet he sounds. From the distance between you, your ears only pick up bits and pieces and nothing quite makes sense because you miss so much information. But you were never listening for the content anyways.

You finish your evaluation quicker than the rest and so you take out your phone and try to do some preliminary searches. Within a minute you find the victim's social medias and begin combing through them in search of people regularly interacted with, patterns of life, and anything else that might stand out. With your notepad balanced unevenly on a tree trunk, you try to scribble down names to follow up on when a voice from behind you startles you from concentration.

"The rest of us are going to stay here for a while, but you and some others can head to the police station and get started." Hotch dismisses you from the scene and you nod, heading towards the car while still jotting down notes, not bothering to see who else is joining you.

Once your mind starts going on a case it's hard for it to stop, which is both a strength and a flaw. By the time you join the local law enforcement in their car, you're on a mental fast track. The notes you write are indecipherable to everyone but yourself but it all makes sense to you, and that's all that matters.

"So what all do you need?" The local police officer asks from the drivers seat. Your gaze shifts from the paper to the rearview mirror, where the older man is looking back at you with curiosity in his eyes.

"Not a lot. I'll need a computer, access to records, and some warrant forms to get started." Your answer is almost automated from having to answer it time and time again over the years. However, as you go to finish your notes, you notice someone in the passenger seat and your breath catches in your throat. How had you not noticed he was sitting less than two feet away?

The rest of your notes don't get finished. Instead, you're transfixed on the man in front of you. His familiar smell is almost enough to bring you to tears, he still smells like home. You remember spending nights in his apartment in the fall time, huddled under blankets that smelled like him. A comforting scent that let you know that you were safe, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The police are quick to accommodate your needs and you thank them politely, but your mind is anywhere but where it should be. Instead of uncovering important intelligence for the case, your mind is preoccupied with the man in front of you. As the police set up a temporary workspace for you, Spencer stands right in front of you, but facing away, scanning over images from the crime scene. You know he's got the images committed to memory by now, he's just doing that to avoid you, and so you take the hint.

"Here you are ma'am." The officers show you to your workspace, and you fight back the urge to protest their use of "ma'am". It always made you feel old.

"It's Director, actually." Spencer corrects the officer, and your lips part slightly. Before you can say anything to him, he's already turned back around to study the photos.

"My apologies, here's your workstation, Director. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to assist." The officer then excuses himself. The tension between you and your former lover is thick, but you know that you're not likely to get him alone like this again, and so you force yourself to take advantage of the situation.

"Thank you." Your voice is soft and you bite the skin on your lower lip, a bad nervous habit he once told you. He places the photos on the desk and turns to face you.

"Of course." Is all he says before getting started on his duties. You should've known he was going to be here like this, it's how most cases with the team went. You worry that your preoccupation is going to hinder your investigation, but at the same time you're just thankful to see him again, even if he never says another word to you.

-----

Later in the day, the rest of the team joins you two in the police department to catch everyone up on the information uncovered. The behavioral analysts have deduced that the unsub might be a woman, and you make note of that. Truthfully, your preliminary searches have not been as fruitful as they typically are, and you know everyone notices.

"I'm going to keep going though. I know there's something out there." You say as you admit to them you don't have any solid leads yet, a first for you. You don't miss the pitiful smiles people throw your way, and you bite your tongue to make sure you don't say anything out of line.

The rest of the day you search tirelessly for leads and before you know it, it's dark outside and everyone is gone. Without prying eyes, your shoulders slouch and you cradle your head in your hands. Your eyes burn from staring at the screen, and your list of leads is still too small for your liking. There's still a lot of work to be done.

The frustration with yourself grows and you almost resent your superior for sending you back here. He said that you were requested by name, and that there was no reason for you not to come. Though you could give him a reason, you're sure he would've just told you to grow up. On your way here you convinced yourself that you could do this job quickly but now that you're here, it's apparent that your distraction is going to be an obstacle to overcome. When lives are on the line, it's dangerous to have an obstacle that impairs your work.

But once the quietness of the police station settles in your mind, you find the will to keep working. Maybe without him being here you can actually get some work done. So that's exactly what you do, you work through the night and are thankfully able to come up with some solid bits of information that you think will be beneficial for the behavioral analysts to know.

Information is meticulously placed in an easy to read briefing document, which you print out and staple for everyone, just like you used to. Perhaps if you conduct this just like your other jobs, you'll start to feel more at home and comfortable.

-----

A hand on your shoulder startles you awake, and your eyes blink wildly to try and acclimate yourself with the bright light that's now infiltrating the station windows.

"Did you stay here all night?" Hotch's voice causes your head to swivel to the front door of the station and you rub your eyes, realizing that you did in fact end up staying here all night. You try to downplay this and dodge his question, gathering the briefing documents you had put together and passing them out to the team.

"This is what I found out, there are still more leads to follow, but I think I'm onto some good things here. One person of interest stands out, and that's a girl he recently started interacting with. From what I can tell without getting into his profiles, they started interacting about a month ago, and it appears they were very in love with each other. But she's got some literal skeletons in her closet. Three years ago one of her boyfriends was found dead in an apparent suicide." You conclude your briefing with the most pertinent information. They can read through the rest themselves. You cover your mouth as you yawn, and stretch out the tense muscles in your neck. The agents read over everything and while they read, you turn the computer back on and prepare to do some more investigating.

"Take a break, you were here all night." Morgan speaks up this time, causing almost everyone's eyes to land on you. Every time you blink your eyes feel like they're being scrubbed with sandpaper, but you can't afford to take a break.

"I'll be fine." You offer him a smile, but it doesn't take a professional profiler to see right through it. Nobody says anything else, so you start going down more rabbit holes to uncover more leads about who the unsub might be.

As the agents go to interview people, it's just you and Spencer left at the station. He's taking care of the geographical profile for this case, like he usually does. The two of you work quietly, but you notice that you can't help but look over at him every few minutes with longing and fondness thick in your heart.

Today he's wearing a button up pushed to his elbows with a simple tie, and it shouldn't make you feel any sort of way, but it brings you back to your first day at the BAU. You remember in great detail seeing him for the first time, he was wearing something similar and you had convinced yourself that he despised you because he would never directly interact with you. After a while you had figured out that he was just unsure of how to approach you, he said that he felt flustered around you. But being paired together on cases helped break the ice, and without even realizing it, you had fallen head over heels in love with him. And you had never fallen out of love, not for one second.

Your eyes travel from his shirt to his hair, his chocolate curls still as soft as you remember them. Flashes of late weekend nights pop into your mind and you remember how he'd fall asleep with his head in your lap as you raked your fingers through his hair, lulling him to sleep. Then there were the mornings where his hair would be sticking up in random places from how restless he was the night before, and how you fought hard to tame the curls, but were never completely successful.

The coffee cup on the desk next to him catches your eye and you wish you had a strong cup right about now. When the two of you used to work together, you would take turns bringing the coffee. He always liked his with enough sugar to put anyone into a diabetic coma and he always perfectly made your latte every time. He had it down to a science. It's the simple things you miss the most about him, about your time shared with him.

No matter how much time or distance that was put between the two of you, you know that you have no choice but to love him. You love him still, with just as much passion as you did two years ago when you left, and you know there's not a single thing on this Earth that you wouldn't still do for him.

You're not sure if it's the exhaustion finally getting to you or what, but you find that you can't be in the same room as him any longer, suffocating from bittersweet memories. Abruptly, you stand from your seat and make your way to the station's bathroom, catching a glimpse of him as you pass and you feel the sob bubbling up in your throat.

As soon as the bathroom door is closed, the tears you had worked away from the plane, from the hotel, and from the crime scene come sliding down your face. Memories you thought were just painful are now harmful, evident by the deep ache that's taken residence in your chest. You tightly grip the sink in the bathroom and try to get a hold of yourself.

You make eye contact with yourself in the mirror and see dark circles under your bloodshot eyes. Tears gently fall from your lashes down your cheeks, but you make no move to wipe them away. As you stare down your reflection, you're forced to reckon with yourself, to confront what you've been running from for two years.

This is just the physical manifestation of how you've felt inside since you stepped off that elevator a couple years ago. Broken, in disrepair, suffering.

A knock on the door interrupts your meltdown and you clear your throat before wiping away the tears. Before you walk out you try your best to conceal that you've been crying, but you already know it's a lost cause. You're just thankful the rest of the team is out working the case so they can't be witness to just how pathetic you've become.

"Director, are you okay?" The officer from yesterday is waiting for you on the other side of the door. With a final breath, you open the door and plaster a smile on your face, seeing the look of concern he's giving you.

"I'm just fine, thank you." The crack in your voice contradicts your words and you keep your head down as you return to your desk and prepare to bury yourself in work for the remainder of the day. As you walk by, you can just barely see Spencer's head turn to watch you walk by, but you can't bring yourself to look back.

-----

Hours later, the agents are returning from their field work and you've prepared more information for them. You took a deep dive into the girl of interest, the one you highlighted in the briefing, and found that she has had several relationships in the past few months. All of which ended badly, according to social media posts.

"One post in particular claims that she showed up at a previous boyfriend's house with a gun because she was convinced he had another girl over. I've been able to establish a pattern of erratic behavior from her, backed up by a few restraining orders." You yawn as you finish explaining the newly found information. The lack of sleep is most definitely catching up to you but you know you're so close to finishing this case; why stop working now?

The mission-driven part of your brain makes you sit back down to find more evidence of the girl's psychotic behavior, but before you can resume a hand reaches over and shuts the computer off.

"No. You've done more than enough. Go to the hotel." Hotch orders you with a warning look that tells you not to fight him on this. If your eyes didn't feel like a desert, you might have argued back but the thought of fresh hotel sheets, a warm shower, and a moment of rest is too appealing. Perhaps you had overworked yourself.

Relenting, you nod and gather your things while the rest of the team continues discussing the case. You're sure if there are any major developments that they'll contact you, so you don't worry about missing anything major. After all, the case seems like it's coming to a quick close. Which is odd, this case has been strangely easy and straightforward. Why would they call in an intelligence director for this?

The question floats around your head as you catch a taxi back to the hotel. As you shower, you try to come up with anything that makes sense. There are tons of FBI intelligence analysts in Quantico, but your supervisor said that you had been requested by name. This case wasn't particularly daunting, so why didn't they give the assignment to a junior analyst? Why would they specifically ask for you? It just doesn't make sense, there's no logic to it; and you don't like things that aren't logical.

After your shower, you flop onto the crisp hotel sheets with a huff. Your mind is still reeling with the question of why as you drift off into a restless sleep.

-----

"Would you like to come over and watch the movie? I rented it because I just finished the book. And I know the books are always better but I can't help it, I'm curious." You stop yourself from rambling too much, and look up at your coworker with butterflies in your tummy and stars in your eyes. His hazel eyes look back down at you, crinkling in the corners as he smiles.

"You're probably right, the books are always better. But, um, yeah, sure I'd love to watch it with you." Faint redness brushes his cheeks as he stumbles over his words, which you've noticed he only does when he's nervous. It's endearing, you think.

"Great, um, come over at 6?" You ask him, nervously biting at the skin on your bottom lip.

"You know chewing on your lips like that is a bad habit, in severe cases it can lead to the development of fibromas. And yes, I'll be there at six. Is there anything I should bring?" As he finishes his sentence you immediately stop biting at the sensitive skin, making a mental promise to try and break the habit. With a shake of your head, you smile back at him,

"Just bring yourself, that's more than enough." The blush on his cheeks grows redder and you turn on your heel, leaving the office for the evening, giddy with excitement of finally gaining the courage to ask Spencer to hang out after work. You had wanted to get to know him better outside of work, but you had never felt comfortable enough to do it until now.

Later that night, he knocks on your door at six sharp. You practically trip over your own feet as you go to the door, in a frenzy to make sure your clothes are straightened out and your hair is in place. Before you greet him, you take a second to gain your composure.

Spencer is standing on the other side, with a bag of M&Ms in his hand. A sheepish smile adorns his perfectly structured face and you let him in.

"I know you said not to bring anything, but I know these are your favorite." He hands the bag to you and you thank him. A man had never taken enough interest in you to get to know what you like and don't like. But Spencer is different, and you knew that from the moment you met.

"Thank you." A wave of confidence comes over you, and you lean up and place a soft kiss on his cheek.

-----

You awake with a heavy, raw feeling in your stomach and you reach for your phone to check the time. It's eleven at night, and nobody from the team had tried to reach you since you left the station earlier in the morning. Setting the phone beside you, you get out of the bed and decide to talk a walk. There's no chance that you're getting back to sleep after that dream. The dreams about Spencer had stopped about a year ago, and it made life manageable; but now that they're back, and he's right here, just out of reach, it's like you forgot how to function.

Tucking the keycard into your pocket, you step out of the room and quietly shut the door. You're not sure where you're even headed, but anywhere but inside that small room is good enough. As you make your way into the elevator, you rub the grogginess from your eyes. They're still sensitive from the improper rest and tears, but it's the least painful thing you're dealing with.

The elevator doors open at the lobby and you can hear that the hotel's bar is alive with energy. What better way to drown your sorrows? Your feet carry you to the bar and you take a seat at the end, ordering something strong from the bartender. With an unsteady hand, you swirl the liquid around in the glass as someone takes a seat next to you.

"Didn't think I'd see you here." Derek's voice is smooth as usual. Looking up from your coping mechanism, you give him the best smile you can produce. His eyes dart from your face to your hand and he frowns.

"Any developments?" You change the topic of conversation immediately, taking a large swig. He nods his head,

"We got her. The information you found was enough to secure the warrant." He says and for the first time working this case, you feel happy. Catching an unsub before they can hurt anyone else always brought you great satisfaction.

"Good. That's great, glad I could help." You say and finish off your drink, gesturing to the bartender for another.

"The rest of us are over there, come join us. It'll be like old times." He leans up against the bar with a bottle in his hand. The bartender hands you another and you consider it.

"We both know it won't be like old times." Your voice trails off and you stare back into your glass, wanting to look anywhere but at Derek. His plants his hand on your arm, strong enough to pull your attention back to him and behind him you can see the rest of the team taking their seats. You spot Spencer taking a seat next to Emily, remembering how it used to be you that he sat by.

"Stop making excuses. After this who know when we'll see you again? Come on, we've all missed you." Derek has always had a way of getting to your soft spot, and it's almost impossible to say no. Your teeth find their way to the damaged skin on your lip and you look between him and the crowd of your former team, celebrating the arrest.

"Fine. But only if you answer something for me." You make a deal and take another drink.

"Sure." He agrees.

"Who requested me to be assigned to this case?" The question still hadn't left your mind. Derek's expression is unreadable, and he looks over to his colleagues.

"It was Hotch." It's not the answer you were hoping for, but you nod. Deep down you know you wished it was Spencer who had recommended you.

"Why? There are so many good analysts in Quantico." You take another drink, waiting for his reasoning.

"There are good analysts, but none of them are you. Look, Hotch misses you a lot. We haven't been able to fill your position since you left, because none of them can live up to you. The team hasn't been the same without you." His words sting, and you feel even more remorse about your decision. You should've never taken the job. Your shoulder sag in defeat.

"I wish I never left." You confide in him, trusting him enough to open up. He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but I think Hotch wants to talk to you before you go back to Cleveland." His words ignite a spark of hope inside you. For the first time since you started the case, you perk up.

"Are you serious?" You can barely believe his words. After everything that happened, you were sure they'd never want you back permanently. You were keenly aware of how protective everyone was over Spencer, and when you broke his heart, you were sure that was the last straw. But maybe things can be salvaged, just maybe.

"Okay I gave you an answer, now come on." He drops the conversation and smiles, leading you over to the table, trying your absolute best to appear happy and not like every single emotion is running through your mind all at once.

"There she is! Our wonder girl!" Hotch's voice greets you as he pulls you in for a hug. You can't help but to smile, his embrace and nickname feeling familiar and comforting. Hotch had taken you under his wing from day one, and you're forever grateful for him.

"Is there an empty seat?" You ask and he nods, gesturing towards the one on the other side of Spencer. The smile on your face falters, but you don't want to make things weird for the whole team, so instead of making a deal out of it you decide to suffer in silence and take the seat.

Maybe a little part of you will enjoy being so close to him. Maybe you can find just a shred of comfort from his proximity. You don't miss the way his shoulders tense as you jump up into the tall stool and you take another drink quickly. The team goes on and on about the case and how the girl was insisting she was innocent while you spin your glass around on the table, mulling over Derek's words.

"This round's on me." Spencer's voice breaks you out of your trance and you look over at him, seeing his wallet opening. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see a polaroid still tucked inside the opening meant for a driver's license. You suck in a sharp breath as if it had just slapped you across the face.

You had almost forgotten about the photo, a moment frozen in time. The two of you smile widely, squinting from the flash. Your arms wrapped around his neck and one of his arms circling your waist as he took the picture. It was the first, and only, Christmas you had spent with each other, neither of you having families to spend the holiday with. The two of you had made it a point to make the other feel special. You had gotten him a new series of books he had mentioned and he got you a pair of rose quartz earrings. It didn't take you long to realize why he had chosen rose quartz.

Hearing your breath, he looks over and sees your eyes trained on the photo. You tear your eyes from the photo up to him, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. How can he be so close, yet so far? Your lips fall open as your brain tries to find the right words, but you come up short. While the others go to get another round of drinks, the two are you are stuck staring at each other, transfixed.

"Spencer." You finally breathe out, eyes scanning his face for any indication of how he's feeling. Butterflies erupt in your tummy. His eyes look deep into yours and you wonder if he can see it, the way your eyes shine with only the deepest love for him. You feel tears well in your lash line, and you don't even care, all you want to do is reach out for him, to feel his arms around you, to have him back.

In that moment, you know you would get down on your knees in the hotel bar and publicly beg for his forgiveness if that's what it took to have him back. To lament about how you wish you had never left him. Confess how every single day you've longed for his touch, his love, and how you know you're undeserving of him. That no matter how many minutes have passed, your heart belongs to him and only him until the end of time.

"Why don't we take a walk?" He finally answers and you nod your head immediately. You jump down from the stool and follow behind him outside the hotel where a light drizzle of rain had started.

He walks a few paces ahead of you, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants until he reaches a lone light post that's illuminating the raindrops. He turns to face you, the golden light reflecting off his smooth skin and you can see how his eyes dance over your face. It feels like hours pass before he says anything.

"How's Cleveland treating you?" It's not at all what you're expecting and it takes you a few moments to process the question.

"Cleveland is...well, truthfully, I hate it there." You decide to completely come clean to him. The raindrops begin clinging to the ends of his hair, magnifying the rich warm hues.

"Sounds like you're doing some pretty good things up there. Hotch has been keeping us updated." He says, kicking around loose pebbles on the sidewalk as he speaks. The tension is reminiscent of your first few interactions with him, and you kick yourself for ever letting him go.

"I'm just doing my job. But I hear Quantico needs a lead analyst." I bring up the topic, just to see his reaction. If he gives any indication that he doesn't want me to come back, I'll turn Hotch down without a second thought. Spencer lifts his gaze back up to you and nods.

"We've been looking for one for a while." A gust of wind makes you shiver from the wetness of your skin.

"Derek told me Hotch is going to ask me to come back." You blurt out, not wanting to beat around the bush any longer.

"They told me." He answers, looking away from you once more. You lick your lips and ask the question that will determine your decision.

"Do you want me back?" The question is loaded, and he knows that too. He stops kicking around the pebbles and just stares down at the sidewalk. When he lifts his head, your wide eyes meet his.

"Do you want to come back?" He answers your question with another.

"More than anything. I've wanted to come back since the first day I left." You confess to him, taking a step forward. Before he can say anything else, you force yourself to say everything you've been feeling over the past few days, knowing that if you don't do it now that you might regret never saying it.

"I should have never left. That job was never worth giving up what we had. I was stupid, I was a damn fool for letting you go. You're all I've thought about every single day, my heart and soul are fractured without you. But I don't expect you to forgive me, I'm not worthy of your forgiveness. And if you don't want me back I'll tell Hotch that I can't take the position." The rain had picked up as you poured your heart out to the man you love.

You watch as he takes his hands out of his pockets and takes a step towards you.

"I've hoped that you would come back every day. I waited for you to walk through the office doors day after day. And I'm sorry for just walking away, I didn't know what to do, the thought of you not being here anymore was too much. I shouldn't have just walked away." You hear his voice start to tremble, and you can't help but to close the distance between the two of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist, holding you tight against his body. Tears fall from your eyes onto his shirt, and after what feels like an eternity, he pushes you back slightly, tipping your chin up so that you're forced to look into his eyes. His lips are parted, and he leans in and presses a sweet, tender kiss to yours.

Your hands grasp the sides of his face, as if he would suddenly disappear if you let go. He clutches you with just as much passion, the two of you pressed together as you express everything you have felt over the last two years without one another. The pain, the longing, the love. Spencer breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours.

In the soft amber glow of the streetlamp you can see it clearly, just how your love shines for one another.

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #angst #so much angst #pining #hurt/comfort #Spotify

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veritable-trash · 11 months

Text

maybe it's never truly over

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader(nickname used but no descriptors!)

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen each other. For you it hasn't been long enough but for Miguel things are a bit more complicated.

Word Count: 1K

Rating: E - for eventual smut, friends to enemies to friends to lovers i think??? this chapter is tame just seeing if people are interested in what i might decide to cook up <3 :)

A/N: alright alright alright like literally everyone i watched spiderverse and have now descended into the black hole of being obsessed with every character from that movie but this one right here????? yes yes i like him very much. anyways wrote this for fun think i might try another series and see what comes of it. this is not sticking to any canon(lol miguel would be PISSED but this is my multiverse bitch!) because there's such a depth to his character that i want to just play with in this story potentially.

anyways if you like this little intro and want to read more and see where these two little weirdos spin their way off to reblog, send me thirsty thoughts about this man, comment to your heart's content about how his body is shaped like a dorito and i want to eat HIM!

also @dameronscopilot wrote an absolute SPICED piece for Miguel so go read that now if anyone sees this!!!!!

enjoy :)))))))))

masterlist weeeeeeeee

~~~~~

There was something different about today.

Air shimmering like it was about to crystallize and crack at any given moment.

Like the world was gonna stop all of a sudden and dissolve into some weird cosmic puddle.

But not for you. Never for you because even when things felt like they were about to snap, crackle, pop, your life tended to stay a bit boring. It had been a long, long time since you’d felt any kind of twinkle in your life, and you didn’t mind it. The last time things had fizzled like that you’d been left a bit shattered yourself.

Even still, the niggle at the nape of your neck wouldn’t let up. even the sidewalk seemed to wobble under your feet as you traversed the packed streets of Nueva York. Your palms can’t help but start sweating, heart kicking up its pace as the people around you seem to crowd and crowd and crowd.

Alley. You need to find an alley and fucking breath.

You turn in fast on the tight corridor, the smell of garbage helping to clear the dizziness in your head but it still isn’t gone. The feelings still there. Why won’t it just fucking leave you-

“Lyla I got it. Just check the other dimensions and report back to me I haven’t seen any signs of them here.”

And now you know why this an entire day has been like walking through jelly.

Because the second Miguel O’Hara turns around and sees you, everything absolutely shatters.

It’s been years, maybe over a decade since he’s seen you, but you’ve seen plenty of him. The magazines, the news, online, every god damn street corner of this godforsaken city conveniently reminds you of this Dorito-shaped dip shit man.

Nothing changes in his demeanor, to an unseasoned eye, but you remember Miguel from before. Gabe’s older brother Miguel, mama’s boy Miguel, your best friend Miguel, and his eyes can’t hide the things you know deep in his heart.

You don’t even know what to say. There’s nothing left in your brain, just him, still staring, but now from new heights, with new scars, and it scares the shit out of you.

And pisses you the fuck off.

“So what? You go radio silent for over ten years and now you’re gonna stalk me in some alley like creep? Very on brand Miguel but I thought you would have fucking grown up by now.”

His shoulders tense and you can’t stop the way your lips curve as you sense you’ve gotten to him, even if only a little. But then he’s turning away, slowly walking down the alley towards the brick wall and you realize he’s not going to say anything to you. That he’s going to just leave again without a single fucking word.

“Miguel if you don’t turn the fuck around right now and say something to me I will beat the shit out of you I swear to god. I know your weak spots don’t make me fucking use it!”

(it’s just under his ribs, but only on the right side)

“Bichito, pleas-“

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. Don’t you fucking dare. You lost the right to call me that when you disappeared on me. Fuck you Miguel, honestly I don’t even have anything left to say to you just fuck off.”

This time his face face does crumple just a little bit and you preen at his pain. Suck it into your lungs as the boy who trampled your heart finally gets a taste of how you bled.

You turn back to the chaos of the street and throw yourself into the people, away from Miguel and all the bullshit, earth shattering happening behind you. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed Miguel O’Hara and it’ll be an even longer time before you come back around to his antics.

Probably never.

~~~~~

He fucked up.

Miguel didn’t know how he’d dropped the ball this hard, but he’d fucked up big time and for once it didn’t involve some stupid fucking multiverse drama.

It involved you.

You, the girl from down the block who used to wrestle Gabriel and make flower crowns out of the flowers growing between the cracks in the concrete.

You, the girl who stayed up till the sky started to turn pink again listening to him rant on and on about his shitty dad and his shitty life.

You, his Bichito, his little bug, his best friend, the center of what he thought was his tiny little universe so many years ago.

But he’d left that behind. Thought that he could find something else, find something better, finally be happy in ways he’d never even dreamed of.

And look at where it had gotten him.

He wasn’t ever supposed to run into you again. He was supposed to be vigilant, cautious, knew that running into you would derail him a thousand times over and he had bigger things to be focusing on. Multiverse-altering, dimension-destroying things to focus on.

Yet the universe had dropped you both in that alley and something deep in his chest rippled with feelings he couldn’t seem to find a word for. It was fucking terrifying and he wasn’t going to let it fester.

He had things to do. Universes to fix. An ever growing mantle of responsibility hanging of his shoulders.

A constant reminder of his fuck ups and the reality that he wasn’t going to let himself slip up again.

And yet as his claws carry him up and onto the rooftops of Nueva York, Miguel O’Hara has a terrifying suspicion that he may no longer be able to stay away.

~~~~~

hehehehAHAHHAHA god i love this twisted little sad sack man who just wants to be all rough and tough. anyways haven't written in ages and this character has gotten me at least sorta interested in writing so i just wanted to throw this out there, get something moving, even if i go back into dormancy for another millenia.

well heart eyes for you guys and forehead kisses for anyone who reads i hope your day is a dream <33333333333

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac characters #he is so hot yes yes yes he is so sad yes yesyes #previous tag was literally a little song and dance moment #anyways hot man i want him goodnight

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raayllum · 1 month

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Key to His Heart Theory: Shot Through the Heart, and You're (S5) to Blame

Intro

So a little over a year ago (since usually I think about things meta wise for at least a good month before writing them down), I wrote a meta about why I thought the Key of Aaravos might hold a quasar diamond, specifically Aaravos' missing chest piece. His heart, if you will.

At the time, I thought it was a very strong contender for what the cube might be, even if it didn't necessarily give us a clear depiction on what it might be used for, and was again operating under the assumption the cube itself is something Aaravos even wants back or needs (which is assumption still, at this point).

It made sense loosely with some of the new information we'd gleaned about the cube from S4 (mostly the Callum pawn intro with its bright flashing light, the emphasis on hearts in the narrative with Ezran's speech, the 4x04 flashbacks) and was likewise built upon a previous meta regarding the series' use of Egyptian mythology (Thoth and Ibis being present somewhat in Callum's arc, the main trio's parallels to another Egyptian myth trio, Aaravos' mirror and mirrors as objects of divination, and potential matching symbolism with the ankh).

The Key to His Heart theory was also built on previous seasons — largely the Magma Titan plot line, and Avizandum being stabbed in the heart — in addition to Aaravos' chest piece, seemingly, being notably absent, which seemed indicative of certain lines from the short stories, particularly Rayla (S4's Dear Callum), but we'll talk more about these later:

Please don’t let this hurt too much. But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always.

If you're interested in this theory and want to know about it, I recommend reading the two metas I've linked above, as the rest of this won't really be delving too much into what I've already written about, and talking about how season five has given more potential evidence.

With that out of the way, let's get into it in rough order of "most to least" likely:

Season Five

TDP Reflections

Whereas hearts weren't mentioned too much in the short stories leading up to S4, they became a reoccurring motif every TDP reflection story going into S5.

Fools. They might as well have held their own hearts, beating and bloody, in the palms of their hands. Kim’dael knew that if she showed them her heart—or something convincingly like it—the Sunfire elves would do exactly what she wanted them to do.

“Rayla,” she said, meeting Redfeather’s gaze. “My name is Rayla. And I’m going home.” Redfeather sighed. “Oh, you bleeding heart.”

“They balk at shadows, then.” Aditi pulled a slip of white-hot metal from the forge and turned to place it upon a gilded anvil. “I see your heart—and I am not afraid.”

It stared up at him. Ezran felt a coldness twist its way around his heart. It took his lungs, too, and for a long moment he could not breathe, could not feel anything but an unfamiliar anger so potent it seized the whole of him, inside and out.

Viren staggers backwards, his last breath shuddering through the blade. His white robes turn red at his heart. Something in Soren’s own chest shatters along old cracks, but he cannot look away.

“You are stronger than this. All storms end!” Rex rumbled a snort through flared nostrils. “What lies at its heart?”

He wept for his city, his people, and the darkness struck deep into their hearts.

While one may say it ends with a sunrise, another will insist it ends at nightfall. Yet at the heart of the story is a single, simple truth…A star fell from the sky.

From where Kim’dael stood, she could only see the brilliant aura of its magic. For a moment, it was as though the queen’s heart overflowed with light.

Now, some of this is undeniably because a heart is a short hand for emotion and one of our most useful metaphors for communicating a variety of emotion. However, I did think it was particularly interesting / eye catching that these lines tended to overlap with the series' growing light and darkness motif and emphasis on wounds/scars (to the point we have a 5x02 episode titled "Old Wounds" that refers to both Viren's past and Callum and Rayla's healing relationship).

But by far the one that struck me the most, and seemed the most reminiscent of how Aaravos's (literal?) wound manifests is this paragraph from Claudia's short story:

Lissa had left her years ago, but the space she had owned in Claudia’s heart remained. It was a dark place now, hard and hateful, its edges raw as a wound that had forgotten to heal.

Mountains had crumbled and left in their wake a vast new sea. It was as though the land had been dealt a great wound and bled a hundred years. Terror washed across the remnants of humanity like a wave: What power could fell mountains? Turn all the world dark, and bleed a sea from stones?

—Ripples (pre-S5)

As well as Aaravos' clear desire to have revenge over the Startouch elves for something that seems to go beyond the resentment over just being banished:

I have not seen the stars in centuries. But when I see them again—when the stars are forced to look upon me, their dark brother—they will know how I have waited. And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky. For I have been patient.

—Patience (pre-S4)

We don't know yet if we are going to get more TDP reflections going into S6 or S7, but given the way the previous stories emphasize the heart as both a symbolic idea (a darkened, hollowed out heart) and a literal entity you can hold in your hands... It's clear there's something going on symbolism else, otherwise why be so consistent? But enough of the reflections, for now.

Time to talk about S5 itself.

Laurelion

Previously, I thought the cube in the intro (a literal glow toy, as Rayla identified back in 1x05) already had similar properties to the star-glow effect in the title intro back at S4.

At the time, this was more of a guess. Most of the Star magic we'd seen at that point we weren't able to fully identify as such, it seemed a bit more magenta in colour, and while there was a parallel in the bright flash of light upon releasing Sir Sparklepuff, there's also a bright flash when the prison is actually made. It's just a good short hand for a crescendo of magical power, you know? We didn't know if quasar diamonds were even going to be white, besides the one presumably in Aaravos' chest concept art wise.

And yet — it still felt like something to me. Then S5 with Laurelion came along.

The Death of the Immortal

K: "And though undying, took last breath, immortal Laurelion was no more." C: That's good, right? I mean when someone "was no more," that's — that's dead, yeah? K: It's a bit confusing, but that is the clearest implication. Though it is somewhat odd they call them undying and immortal. C: Well, that doesn't sound so immortal? Laurelion "was no more". K: Right. C: But how? How did they...? K: Right here. "White as the star's heart it pierced, ivory draconic brought death's bite known ever forth as Novablade." C: It's a sword.

There's a few noteworthy things about this whole exchange:

The poem has to be relevant eventually, otherwise why include it at all when you easily could've just had Kazi and Callum stumble across the sword period?

It confirms that the heart of a star is something that can be pierced, presumably removed, and white, which I think is the biggest "hell yeah" to the 4x04 intro

There is no reason to point out the contradictions in the poem itself unless A) the sword doesn't work the way we think it does and/or B) we are going to find out why the "undying and immortal" thing matters — and they make sure to emphasize the contradictions quite a bit as well, so they definitely want us to notice

If Laurelion died, and Aaravos took his place, that would explain how Laurelion — identity wise — could die while the same person under a new name could also remain alive / immortal

We learn in Rayla's pre-S5 short story that Ghosts don't often keep their real names, and take a new one as the final severance of their bond with their old community. For all extents and purposes, Aaravos was Ghosted (banished) from his community as well. Taking a new name would make sense

"That must've been when [Harrow] fell." "Fell? Fell! He didn't fall, Rayla, he didn't trip and fall on the ground — he got killed!" (2x08)

There's more speculation here regarding the actual sword and draconic ivory, but that is another post for another day that other smart people have made if you are interested. For now let's just focus on the heart.

We know Laurelion had a heart; we know it got stabbed with the Novablade, leaving Laurelion both no more (i.e. dead) and yet immortal / undying. We know that Arc 2 in particular has had an emphasis on losing your sense of self and identity ("I was his puppet" / "We can't save everyone, Soren" / "But I'm not evil. It's me" / all of Viren's dream visions). We know that a Star's heart is white. We know that Aaravos seemingly used to have one, and now it's either missing or impermanent, only visible sometimes.

(Putting a pin in the second image cause we'll roll back around to it in the counter evidence section.)

We know his chest centrepiece glowed when he was imprisoned, and we know it was seemingly gone when he got banished. We know something about the Key of Aaravos was able to reveal his treachery.

I'm not saying any of this is for sure connected, but it does make you think, at least a little?

That, and it'd play into another bit of potential interesting foreshadowing / symbolism we got in s5 with

Viren Heart Theory

This is another theory I've discussed in more detail elsewhere, so I'm going to link to it here, but it wouldn't feel right to not talk about it at least a little here. Basically the theory is that Viren used his own blood / a piece of his heart, or possibly the whole thing, and the relic staff in order to save Soren when he was a young child.

This is largely due to Viren's spotlight turning red after he begs to be able to save Soren, and cinched by Kpp'Ar pointing specifically at Viren's heart only for Viren to deflect and start talking about Soren's case specifically. Whatever he did seemed to make him more 'powerful,' but at a great personal cost ("In the name of love you may perform acts that are so unforgivable, you will never forgive yourself") and something he finds the need to justify ("I had to do something! I had to save him! I had no choice!").

If Viren did this, it also adds another layer to Viren's sentiment of "Harrow's death breaks my heart" being well, half-hearted, in addition to Soren literally stabbing illusion Viren in the heart in 3x09. Viren mutilated his heart for his son's life, stopped being able to properly express love to said son, and then Soren stabbed his father right in the place that presumably saved him as a child. Ouch.

It seems likely that one of the reasons Aaravos was able to prey so aptly on Viren's desire for importance and attention — to Matter — was because Aaravos might've tried and failed earlier on to get the Startouch elves to listen to him pre-banishment. Being ignored, exiled, and disempowered is something he can relate to, and something he doesn't mind taking advantage of when it suits him.

However, if this combination could save someone Viren loved, it makes me wonder if Aaravos did something similar to likewise try (and fail?) to save someone he loved, too. It's either that or the Startouch elves just completely ripped it out, so... I guess we'll have to see?

But yeah — if Viren did it, then I'm expecting it's more likely that Aaravos did it, too. That is all.

The Pawn Intros

But Dragons, you say, didn't we already talk about the Callum pawn intro?

And to that I say yes, but — thanks to a promo S6 picture of Aaravos crying, we know something else very important about said intros that we didn't know before: they take place at the Sea of the Cast Out.

The sky, the mountains... the fact we know, thanks to the statues in 5x09, that this is likely where Aaravos' grief — his wound, if you will — began to bleed and take root, leading to his thousands of years of seeking vengeance and using just about anything or anyone he could. This is, presumably, where his chess game started... and where it is, symbolically at least, going to end.

Okay, so it's the Sea of the Cast Out — why does that matter?

Well, we know the Sea of the Cast Out is a site of literal trauma for Aaravos. We know, thanks to the statues of Aaravos and the Merciful One, that it plays into the same reaching motif we see Viren participate in quite a few times, both in his intro and in other places/relationships (most notably Sarai, Harrow, and Terry).

The Sea of the Cast Out is also, perhaps more importantly for this theory's purposes, near Elarion. What little we do know about the city beyond it being an important place for humans and dark magic ties it repeatedly to nature through The Midnight Star poem:

Elarion, trembling seed, lay down to earth in icy night, and in the cold her roots took hold defying winter’s deathly bite. Elarion, fading bloom, afraid to wilt and dim and die, [...] Elarion, dying husk, did wilt and whimper in the dark [...] Elarion, black-eyed child, her twisted roots spread deep and far,

as well as a tale about the Flowers of Elarion, precious blooms that could soothe the senses and turned to dust come morning—flowers that were left as "a fair exchange of beloved for beloved" (Tales of Xadia). Put a pin that Exchange idea because I swear we're gonna come back to it but not in the usual way you might be expecting, or at least not entirely.

And we have good reason to believe this nature motif is tied to Aaravos' current imprisonment as well, given how present flower imagery is for his mirror.

So the Sea of the Cast Out and Elarion seem to be the two places we know of thus far that are not only the most important to Aaravos, but the most instrumental to his banishment. It would not surprise me if either Aaravos got involved in what would become Elarion either because he was banished, or it was what he was banished over, or if discovering the truth of what happened there is likewise why the Archdragons were partially like "Yeah, we gotta lock this guy up" (now that they knew he posed a serious threat). The fact that Elarion is referred to as a child (everything with "blood of a child,"), black-eyed (which denotes dark magic), and winter's "deathly bite" ("White as the star's heart it pierced, / ivory draconic brought death's bite") just all ties together nicely in being related even if we're not totally sure how.

But Aaravos having his chest piece removed by force / as punishment in addition to being cast out by the Startouch elves, or him taking it out himself and giving it to someone who was lost... There's a lot of roads to get here as to why this stuff all seems connected if the Key is indeed his chest piece, which offers up both a power up, a sad tragic backstory, some baller symbolism, and some nice double meanings as to what it is key wise.

As the Key works in the moment, it doesn't seem like it's something that would be very useful to a primal mage, as other than pretty easily identifiable gemstones they wouldn't be using much the key identifies. However, the function of the Key being able to categorize and sort magical creatures and plants from each other is something that is very useful if you're a dark mage and need to shore up your ingredients list.

If the Key has Aaravos' chest piece in it, there are two main prongs this offers:

It may have been instrumental in helping humans discover dark magic, hence the "Elarion, searing white" and could also be the Gift the poem speaks of. Aaravos removed it himself (love makes you weak?), gave it to his chosen human, chosen human died, and he was locked out of Startouch realm as a combined result. This offers the clearest connection between why Aaravos' mirror has the nature motif and why Aaravos is crying in the beginning of 6x01.

It was removed by the Startouch elves and lost/hidden, forcing Aaravos to be away from his old home until he could find it again. This is the clearest explanation as to why the Key might be relevant on a plot level. It could give him the power up he needs to get out of his prison and barring that, it's what he needs to wreck havoc and gain access to the Startouch elves to get revenge on them

It also allows what we learn of the cube in 2x06 to have multiple meanings:

The Key is revealed in an episode called The Heart of a Titan. We're led to assume that this is just the Magma Titan, and you could perhaps make an argument the dual meaning (just like how Breaking the Seal refers to the letter and the titan's chest) refers to Harrow or Callum's capacity to love. But, given that one of Aaravos' most prominent mythic comparisons is to Prometheus, a literal Titan, well...

"It unlocks something of great power in Xadia" would work equally well if it's a Key literally made from Aaravos, not just to Aaravos. And the past 2 seasons in particular have emphasized over and over again just how powerful and dangerous he is

The salvation and destruction motif that is inherent in the key, ("I just have a feeling this key thing can help me" / "It's the key of Aaravos, no good will come of it") as keys are linked to chains and freedom with the ability to lock and unlock, is rampant in 2x06, as Viren states that Xadia and the Magma Titan "held both the promise of our salvation and threat of our destruction." This goes double for Sarai sacrificing her life to save Viren

And to round back to Viren and his intro, I don't think it's a coincidence that

is one of the first things Aaravos ever says to Viren, particularly when trying to earn Viren's trust. (Nor that Aaravos considers that Zubeia and co. "betrayed" him when "he would lower his guard," just before the imprisonment.) And while Aaravos gains Viren's trust as a political ally here first, it's also clear that he's actually primarily preying upon Viren's deepest emotional desires here as well: to be listened to. To matter.

Viren wasn't listened to by the monarchs around him (Harrow). He wanted to be important (to them). He wanted to matter.

"It is everything to me, to know that I matter. It's all I ever wanted."

Aaravos: Search your heart. There is something you want very badly. (2x09) Zubeia: He was able to give them something they wanted very badly. (4x04)

And that's what Aaravos offered him, with power and knowledge just being the bait. (If you're interested in more detailed thoughts on this aspect of Viren / their dynamic, check out this meta here.)

More to the point, I do lean towards the Key's plot purposes being 1) a power-up that may be needed for him to get out of his mirror and 2) something that likewise allows him to see the other Startouch elves again. After all, the Silvergrove gave each elf a similar kind of key:

But y'know what, let's talk about Rayla now, because

The Missing Piece of Your Heart

As stated earlier, Rayla's letter has a consistent metaphor when it comes to family and loss:

I remember how I felt when my parents left me to join the Dragonguard, like PART OF MY HEART WAS MISSING and I would never feel right again. I thought I hated them when they did that to me. In the beginning, it felt so big and terrible—like raging despair—but, overtime, it became a soft, sweet ache—a reminder of that missing part of my heart. [...] Please don’t let this hurt too much. But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always.

This struck me as interesting when the letter first came out, as it was a departure from most of Rayla's previous heart motif ("My heart for Xadia") and even the one attributed to her one half of her parents ("My heart goes out with this one"). Why have the motif suddenly switch up when it would've worked just as well, or been doubly romantic + a Ruthari parallel, to just have it be the whole heart?

Then season four came out, and I understood, because, well...

Upon her return, Rayla brings back that "missing piece" of "Callum's heart". It's a painful restoration and doesn't run entirely smooth, but in season five in particular we see him be much more like his older, happier self once he's let himself love her again, and how steadfast he is in said love ("To love is simply know this...").

But, in a moment that could've been exclusively about Rayla, nor did it need for Stella's connection to the Star arcanum to be this prominent in the same moment, they choose to likewise highlight Rayla 'bringing home' the missing piece of Aaravos' heart, too.

This symbolism is also consistent with how the key is introduced in the first place, i.e. first thought of because Rayla's drawing in Callum's sketchbook (another gift from Harrow) reminds Callum of it, and her ultimately being the one to retrieve it even once things at the Banther Lodge take a turn towards the south.

Furthermore, we do have reason to believe that Rayla is indeed the 'Key to Callum' in a sense, particularly after 5x08. Just like how a key can both lock and unlock — give freedom or entrapment — Rayla symbolizes a great deal of duality in Callum's life, including but not limited to:

Leading him to primal magic (1x03, 5x08) and dark magic (2x07, 5x08)

Light ("No one can control you or make your choices for you" / Ray of light) and dark ("But the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself" / "Stay safe, and stay in the light. Don't look for me")

Being routinely emphasized in Callum's arc with Aaravos, especially in S4

"Now you're back. That's kind of good, and it's kind of bad" / "You have to hold pain and love in your heart at the same time" / "And when she came back, I was so happy, and so mad at the same time"

Salvation ("Rayla saves people [...] that's what makes her a hero") and destruction (being willing to die / do dark magic for her)

The Ocean arcanum realization being both positive and negative, just as the poem itself takes on a different shape across the season in regards to how Callum views her and how he views himself while being motivated by his love for her / Ezran

“Wow. So [the berries] look identical, but they might kill you or they might save you,” Callum said. “Exactly. Just like me…” Rayla smiled.

—Book One: Sky novelization

If you're interested in a more specific meta on this dichotomy, I recommend this meta written pre-s4 and this more recent one about 5x08 specifically.

I've written before about Rayla have a weird consistency with the cube as well, particularly in her being the primary carrier of its foreshadowing for most of arc 1, with Callum only really doing so in 1x04 and having Rayla pick up the slack the rest of the time:

"It's a toy, a piece from a children's game" (1x04) as well as "It's a glow toy" (1x05) are now literally true as the cube is 1) involved in Aaravos' game and 2) literally glows a bright flashing light circa the 4x04 intro.

"Are you practicing magic or are you losing to Bait at a game of rolly-cubes?" (2x07 right after Callum calls it a key) came to pass, somewhat if not outright, it seems, in 5x08. Callum practices two different magics, Rayla is literal bait in exchange for the glow-toad, and the episode ends with Callum being worried he's potentially losing Aaravos' 'game' so to speak — that he's made himself more vulnerable to the Startouch elf's control.

Two lines of hers regarding the cube that have not yet come to pass are "This doesn't end well for you" (1x05) and "I hope it was worth it to you, putting everyone's lives in danger" (1x04) but I expect that we'll get them soon enough.

Rayla's 'tether' to a the cube does, of course, loop back into the Flowers of Elarion tale, in which there was a fair exchange of beloved for beloved. If the Key does indeed hold Aaravos' heart (and that is still a very big If), whether it would include an actual exchange is still debatable, but it seems inevitable that she would at least play a part. (If you're interested in more thoughts on Rayla + the cube, check out this meta pre-s4.)

Where the game motif gets the most interesting, I think, is where it intersects with the idea Aaravos mentions in 2x09 regarding, "Those who fail tests of love are simple animals," and one of the TDP short stories in particular having one very interesting tidbit:

“My behavior is—?” “—unusual,” Corvus repeated, nodding. “Very unusual. Ever since you started challenging me to all these little games.” Soren squirmed. His pauldrons clanked as his shoulders slumped. “They aren’t games. They’re tests. Ugh…I’m really messing this up.”

Since Rayla is going to have her "My heart for Xadia" undeniably tested, it would make sense if Callum and Aaravos' hearts came into play too, don't you think?

Other Misc Symbolism / Oddities

Last but not least, we have our odds and ends that didn't fit in the other sections, but I thought may be worthwhile to mention anyway.

For starters, we have screencaps (most notably in 3x06) where you can see a visible dip in Aaravos' tiddies chest that indicates something was removed, and it's not just an artificial darkness.

We have Aaravos touching a fist to his heart twice before he bows and indicates that Callum is going to "play" into his hands (remember that game motif?).

We have this shot, which is the exact kind of thing that "crew makes sure the Ocean and Moon runes are most prominently on display in Callum's dark magic dreams to foreshadow him doing dark magic in S5 Ocean for his Moonshadow gf 3 seasons later" would absolutely do and think they're So Funny about. "No gem for star magic" except the one you're unknowingly holding in your hand, am I right?

Finally, we have precedent that dark magic can 'darken' your heart both in show when Amaya passes the light trial ("A human that is pure of heart") and in the graphic novels with Claudia ("Your heart is not yet darkened") which allows her to see the map to a unicorn (The Puzzle House).

@self-spaghettification also noted that the bright white flash of the star in the 'o' of Aaravos' name in the Arc 2 intro momentarily looks like and makes the shape of the Nova Blade, which is also very cool.

Honourable mention to Rayla going "it's a piece from a children's game" and Ezran going "you said each of the archdragons had a piece of the puzzle" and the Orphan Queen and Jailer presumably working together to trap Aaravos. I think about that shit every day.

Evidence to the Contrary / Alternatives

But like I said at the start, there are plenty of alternatives or feasible pitfalls to consider. This theory resides on a few assumptions after all, that may not be true, such as Aaravos not actually needing the key for anything other than as a lure for Callum, it could purely have something to do with the Nova Blade and nothing to do with the prison, or even have something to do with the nature of magic itself, capable of great good as well as great evil.

His chest piece could've always been more immaterial and dark magic has just darkened it rather than it being removed. Aaravos may have stabbed Laurelion in order to use that heart diamond to partially make the Relic Staff he passed onto Ziard, or Aaravos' chest piece could be in the staff itself, and the cube is something else entirely.

Conclusion

In the end, as we go forward into S6 all the above is more less my personal bet as to where I think we really could go in terms of answering a lot of these questions we've had for a few seasons now. I hope you enjoyed reading the theory and considering (and possibly subscribing to) it, as well as getting your own thoughts stimulated. If any of the above happens I will cry for days and no matter what, I am deeply intrigued to see where S6 takes Aaravos' backstory and, of course, his cube. Luckily:

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp aaravos #key to his heart theory #tdp meta #analysis series #aaravos

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