#so like. use. you have to. use other observations

[promiscuousg1rl]

rich girl ― Rafe Cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

warnings: reader is rich and bitchy, rafe is an undercover thirstbucket.

You'd been in the outer banks for all of five seconds and you were already bored. Your father's reasoning for dragging you and your mother along to meet his new business partner was completely lost on you but there you were.

The minute you met Ward Cameron you knew he was nothing but a suck up. Doting over your father as if he were his biggest fan, a groupie. "Your Forbes Magazine interview was one of the most excellent pieces I've read in years." "Your eye for architectural design is truly admirable." You knew his type. You hated his type.

And his son? Even worse.

Stereotypical country club trust fund loser with a god-awful superiority complex. It showed in the way he smirked as he introduced himself, offering to buy you a drink as his weirdo friends watched from the other side of the room. It made it all the more satisfying when you declined. You'd never seen someone's face fall so quickly.

You truly thought he'd take the hint and leave you alone. Maybe go report back to the goon squad with a lie in order to avoid embarrassment and a bigger hit to his ego. Wishful thinking.

"So," the southern drawl was like nails on a chalkboard. "How are you liking it here so far?"

Pulling your lips away from your martini glass, face stuck in the same blank expression it's been in since your arrival. "It's boring and the entire town smells like salty swamp water."

Rafe frowns.

"I....I guess I can see why you'd think that."

You hum, continuing to observe the party-goers around you. For it to be an event for the creme-de la-creme of Kildare, the attendees don't seem to look the part. It's not as surprising as it is disappointing.

"Your, uh, your dad tells me you're gonna be spending your summer in town. Maybe I can show you around, take you to all our hot spots."

The warning your mother always gives you about rolling your eyes so hard they'll get stuck falls on deaf ears as you do exactly that.

"Those hotspots being this country club and the gator ridden marshes you guys love to get wasted at? No thanks."

His frown gets deeper as he pauses, staring you down with narrowed eyes. "You know, I see what you're doing."

"Excuse me?"

It almost gives you whiplash with a headache to match as that insufferable smirk comes back.

"This whole uninterested shtick you got goin' on." He huffs. "It's a total facade you rich city girls like to pull to play hard to get. You almost had me fooled."

With a sigh you sit your glass down on the bar and turn to face him. "First of all, there is no facade. And second, I am not trying to fool you. I don't even like you. Just because your small town country club groupies find you and that crumb of coke under your nose attractive, doesn't mean I do."

"Aw keep goin' baby, you're only getting me more and more hard."

You scoff. "And now I'll add pervert to your long list of flaws."

"Flaws?"

"Yes," you nod with a mocking look of concern. "You have about a million, your dad actually warned us about them."

The mentioning of his father causes him to completely falter. "Wait, seriously?"

No.

"Yes and if I were you, I'd focus more on the fact that if you don't help him close this deal with my father tonight, he'll be tossing your ass for what he says will be the fiftieth time."

Just as he opens his mouth to probably curse you out in the worse way possible, Ward's voice finds its way over to the two of you.

"Rafe," he and his wife Rose stand side by side with your parents, champagne glasses in hand. "Why don't you come here for a sec, Mr. l/n has a couple of questions for ya."

Suddenly you're the one who's smirking. "You'd better go, daddy's boy. Let's see if you still have a home to go to by the end of the night."

[blank-potato]

A Special Surprise

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

“What’s going on?” he asks, brows raised. You say wearily, “It’s been shaking all morning… almost dancing?” You both look at it. The plant is doing a slow, rhythmic shimmy like it’s listening to music, only it can hear.  It was no longer sad, that was for sure.  You watch it…it’s almost hypnotic in its movements. Going round and round and round and— you look away, shaking your head.  “Not today, horny plant, not today.” Bob tries and fails to suppress a snort. “Did you just…. call it horny?” Or Since the plant attack a month ago, you and Bob haven't had sex, agreeing that you should take things slow. But your plant sees how pent up you both are and changes your plans.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, plants being freaky asl, Bob using his telekinesis for horny reasons, orgasm control/denial, tentacle handjob (tentacle job?) oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, hair pulling, bondage via tentacles and telekinesis, established relationship

WC: 5.8k

A/N: This is part 2 of Something Special linked below. This was another really fun one to write, more plant action as promised, hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

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Since the great plant incident, the two of you had decided to take things slow. 

Really slow.

It had been almost a month, and you guys had just worked your way up to holding hands, kissing and the occasional makeout session. 

Even though you guys had had sex, it probably wouldn’t have been the natural progression of your relationship. You would have kept awkwardly not quite flirting with each other until one of you made a move. 

So, taking it slow seemed to be the best course of action. It was fine, you were both okay with it… kinda. In all honesty, you wanted each other bad.

You’d be completely normal, working on something, and you’d feel his arms wrapping around you from behind, and that is all it took. The rest of the day, you’d think about you and him in many different compromising positions.

But you had to be normal and chill, and that is something you definitely know how to do. 

Bob enters your office, and you smile up at him. You could never resist your daily dose of Bob Reynolds. “Morning, I brought you cinnamon rolls. I figured you haven’t eaten yet?

“You know me and my bad habits so well,” You say before leaning up to peck him on the lips. You taste sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon. “You’ve already eaten yours?”

“Couldn’t resist.”

He rounds the table to settle next to you, the smell of his cologne and shampoo already making you feel at home.

“How’s it looking?” he says, nodding at your flower.

You look at the plant in the corner of your lab, which has lost a few petals and curled in on itself a little. It’s looking out your window, all forlorn like it’s wishing for better days. “I swear I’ve been taking care of it, giving it enough water and sun, but it’s…”

“It looks a little sad,” Bob finishes.

The plant had taken to Bob over the past few weeks, probably because Bob was always in your lab, hovering nearby under the guise of helping or waiting for you to finish up.

It was oddly endearing, watching the way the plant seemed to lean toward him whenever he was around, as if it had claimed him, too. It was very cute how it would do a little shiver whenever you ruffled Bob’s hair or laughed at one of his awkward jokes, almost like it was rooting for you.

Sometimes, when Bob got too close to your workstation, the plant would nudge toward him, its leaves twitching like it wanted to be involved in whatever the two of you were doing.

He turns away from the plant and observes you instead. Instantly, he sees that you’re looking a little tired. “You alright?”

You mumble as ‘yes’ but honestly, without your second coffee of the day, you’d be curled up underneath your desk, asleep.

“Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

And that was the truth. You didn’t sleep well last night, he didn’t need to know that it was because you had a dream about him fucking your brains out. Another shitty side-effect of not having sex with your hot boyfriend. 

“Anything I can do to help? I could… organise your notes, or bring coffee, or I don’t know…” Bob offers, clearly trying to come up with anything useful. “I just don’t want to see you burnt out.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close, resting your forehead gently against his. “I’ll be okay. I survived med school, okay? I’ve been more tired,” you say with a soft smile, “You’re so sweet, wanting to take care of me…”

You loved it when he got like this, all cute and tender. And the way he’d be doting on you even when you insisted you were fine. Like when he found you passed out at your desk, surrounded by papers and coffee cups, and you woke up in your bed and had a sparkling lab by the next morning. 

You glance up at his worried eyes, framed by the faintest crease in his brow. He’s so beautiful when he’s like this; it makes you want to melt into a little puddle on the floor.  There’s even a smudge of sugar on the corner of his lip from the cinnamon roll, and you just wanna kiss it right off. 

Just then, you’re overcome by that aching kind of affection, the kind that just demands an outlet, and you start pressing kisses all over his face: his cheek, his temple, the bridge of his nose.

He bursts into laughter, leaning back just slightly as you continue your playful assault. “What are you doing?” he laughs.

“This’ll keep me awake,” you murmur against his jawline.

He wraps his arms around you and lifts you in his arms like you weigh nothing.  You lock your legs around his waist like a little koala. You have no idea what has you both feeling so bold, but you like it. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say, as you move to the other side of his jaw. He lets out a moan, quaking under your praise. You knew just how to make him feel good, just how to make him feel special. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, his voice dipping even lower. Your lips leave his skin, and you look up at him to see his eyes glowing gold. All that does is turn you on even more, the fact that you got him so worked up…

Then, like that, as if you realised you weren’t exactly going slow right now, you break apart. 

“We should probably…” 

Bob hums in agreement, and you reluctantly release your python grip on his waist. It’s a near-impossible task, and you miss having him hold you as soon as he plops you down on your desk. 

You fan yourself a little and fix your shirt, trying to look composed even if you were the furthest thing from it. 

But when your eyes sweep the room, you notice the plant now turned away from the window and right at the two of you, like it was watching. 

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By the next day, the plant is going wild.

Bob stops by your office, hoping to take you out to lunch, only to find you locked in a tense staring contest with the plant, before you turn and he sees why.

“What’s going on?” he asks, brows raised.

You say wearily, “It’s been shaking all morning… almost dancing?”

You both look at it. The plant is doing a slow, rhythmic shimmy like it’s listening to music, only it can hear.  It was no longer sad, that was for sure. 

You watch it…it’s almost hypnotic in its movements. Going round and round and round and— you look away, shaking your head. 

“Not today, horny plant, not today.”

Bob tries and fails to suppress a snort. “Did you just…. call it horny?”

You nod profusely before pointing an accusatory finger at it. “I know that look. I’m telling you, something isn’t right.”

“Do we have any idea why?” Bob asks, but you shake your head. 

“I’ve called a specialist, but they won’t be here by next week.” Shifting away from it, you hold onto Bob’s arm. You needed to be ready to bolt just in case, it went crazy on your asses again.

You knew exactly what this plant was capable of, the flashbacks to your completely destroyed office coming back to you all at once. You still missed the shirt that it obliterated. 

You sigh. “You still wanna get lunch?”

Bob smiles. “Only if we’re not bringing the third wheel.”

You shoot the plant a final stern look. “Stay.”

The plant, as if in response, gives another aggressive little shimmy.

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Lunch was perfect, but moments with Bob often were. You shared jokes and a meatball sub from the corner shop and sat together in a nearby park. 

How could someone look so cute with sauce on his face? You wiped it off, brushing his lips with your napkin. Pretty lips, lips you wanted to devour.

You almost didn’t want to get back to work. 

Once you get back to the Tower, it’s quiet as the rest of the Avengers are now halfway across the country, fighting dangers unknown.

Like a big weighted blanket, he wraps his arms around you, walking with you in a slow, sleepy sway.

“Do you have to get to work now?” he murmurs against your temple.

You nod, sighing as you both waddle down the hall like two sleepy penguins, still tangled in each other’s warmth.

“See me after?”

“I will.”

Then, without warning, he stops and spins you around, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing, pressing a deep, giddy kiss to your lips.

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet,” you laugh breathlessly as he sets you back down.

He smiles, that soft, golden smile. “You just bring something out in me.”

Swiftly, he disappears down the hall, leaving your heart pounding and you wondering when exactly he got all suave and smooth. 

When you swing your door open, still swooning over Bob, you see something. Something…concerning?

It’s another flower. 

The door shuts behind you as you pause mid-step, squinting at it. This wasn’t the one Bob gave you. That one had soft green leaves and leaned adorably toward his voice and evidently danced. 

But this? This one had glowing yellow petals that pulsed faintly, almost like it was breathing. You hadn’t seen it before, and you certainly hadn’t grown it.

“I come in peace, plant.”

You carefully lift its pot and set it next to your other plant. If you were more attentive, or just less exhausted, then you probably would’ve noticed the faint tremble in the soil, or the way the leaves angled ever so slightly toward the door. You’d deal with it after the giant stack of papers and emails you had to get through.

You click-clack at your computer and try to focus, your body becomes heavier, the letters on your keyboard become blurry.

“Stay awake, stay awake,” you whisper to yourself, like a chant to keep you up, but it’s no use. “Just five minutes,” you murmur to yourself, as you rest your head on the desk.

What must’ve been at least an hour slips by, and when you jolt upright, disoriented and sticky-eyed—

“Of course, I fell asleep…”

You look around, scratching the back of your neck, stretching with a yawn, trying to blink the fog from your brain. But when you look to the corner, the one you’d started glancing at by habit, it’s empty.

When you wake up, the flower is gone.

Actually, both flowers are gone.

“Shit.”

You blink, disoriented, and then the sudden crack of gunfire rings out. You bolt upright, and you step out of the lab into complete chaos.

The hallway is a mess, vines are all over the ceiling and walls, snaking around furniture and lights, creeping fast. Ava is blinking in and out of sight, phasing wildly as she dodges them, while a vine nearly snags her ankle. Yelena is hanging from the chandelier on the ceiling with a gas mask, shooting at them. 

You can’t see him, but you can hear Alexei roaring in the distance, presumably batting the plant’s tentacles away with brute force.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

At the centre of the chaos, the yellow flower that was on your desk was now mad with power and trying to pull Bucky out of the elevator. And in another corner amongst overturned chairs and sparkling wires is a pink one, that had tentacles attached to John’s back, trying to pry off his clothes. 

How the fuck did they get here? Did they take the subway? A taxi?

Before you can do anything, you’re being pulled away into the air with a scream… not by a tentacle but by an invisible force.

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A few minutes before the plant attack on Avengers Tower, Bob’s lying in bed, living his best life and thinking of you, like always.  

Since you were busy working, he decided he’d take a nap, five minutes tops. He had been tired these past few days as well, thoughts of you in his bed, riding him, calling out his name until your voice was hoarse, keeping him awake more and more often. The sex dreams were wreaking havoc on his sleep schedule. Every time you guys would makeout, he’d be brought back to all the filthy things you’d be whispering in his ear in his dreams. 

He’d only meant to close his eyes for five minutes.

But eventually he drifts off peacefully, the comfort of his pillow and the lingering scent of you on his shirt pulling him under. Only to wake a few minutes later to the feeling of a warm, unfamiliar weight on his chest.

A soft rustle. Something moves.

A bloom of purple petals hovers above him, looking down at him with something almost resembling fondness. The plant tilts its head, mimicking him as he shifts, confused.

It takes him a moment to realise… his sheets are gone. His wrists, tied gently but firmly to the headboard by vines. Velvet-smooth tentacles looped like cuffs around his ankles.

Bob freezes, his breath catches in his throat. His heart races too, thoughts piling up in his head faster than he can sort them.

He swallows hard, shifting his hips in a vain attempt to sit up, but the vines hold firm. One of the petals tilts curiously, responding to his movement with something too close to glee.

Still pinned, still breathless, he whispers to the ceiling:

“…This plant is going to kill me.”

As if hearing him, the plant gets to work, making quick work of his clothes, discarding the fabric in smooth, deliberate motions, like it had done this before.

Bob couldn't deny it felt good… He'd been left wanting more every time, longing to be touched more. Every heated makeout session, few and far between, cut short by your mutual agreement to take things slow.

The tendrils slither their way around his body until they found what they were looking for, his cock. They wrap around him, the substance that was oozing from the tentacles onto his cock making him feel weak.  

His whole body shivers when they start moving. They fluctuate between pulsing around him and jerking him off, making it impossible to focus on anything. 

He bites back the no doubt embarrassing moan that was bound to come out. But he can’t keep them back for too long.  The moan that rips through him is more of a pathetic whine. They use his reactions against him, rubbing wherever made him whimper the loudest. But instead of moving as fast as they can, they slicked up his cock, moving just slow enough to leave him wanting. 

His breath is short, and his limbs feel heavy, too heavy for him to do anything, but he’s not sure he wants to do anything right now. 

“Fuck…”

He feels himself getting closer and closer, but one of the tentacles curls around the base of his cock and squeezes. Denying him the release, he very much needed. His legs shake as he groans and slams his head against the headboard, denting it. 

“Please…,” he lets out, his eyes dazed, and if you asked him what he’s begging for, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

The plant isn’t done with him yet; it starts moving again. The tentacles are making themselves right at home, working their hardest to get him to another orgasm. It's hell-bent on draining all his energy and leaving him a complete mess. He moans, bucking his hips up into its grip, causing it to squeeze around him harder. 

“I can’t, I can’t…” he gasps, before collapsing into a quiet sob, trembling under its iron grip pressing down on him.

He turns his head to the side, burying his face in the pillow, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. His breathing quickens, shallow and erratic, as his toes curl in pleasure.

It’s not long before he feels it coming again, another dry orgasm he’s too weak to do anything about except whimper.

“Please, let me—”

His back arches off the bed as he has a second dry orgasm. All he can think about is you, how he wanted to kiss you and hold you in his arms… and fuck you senseless.  He wanted to hear you, wanted to make you feel good. His eyes start to glow gold as he moans out your name over and over. 

“Please, please, please—”

With the thought of you fresh in his mind, he finds his orgasm hitting him that much faster and harder. No matter how much he begged, the plant wouldn’t let him finish. But that’s not what really hurt; what hurt is the fact that you weren’t here right now with him. And he needed you. 

The tentacles keep moving, but start exploring the rest of his body more. He felt boneless and unbelievably horny, like he was about to go crazy. 

He needed relief. He needed you. To feel your body pressed against his, to feel your pussy squeezing down on his dick.

He flexes his hand and thinks of you, hoping that you’d come to him.

And you did. You were still mid-yell when you flew in there, as he slammed the door shut behind you with his telekinesis. 

Not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined seeing Bob like that when you floated into his room.

Vines around his body, his abs twitching, panting out your name in desperation. He was practically gift-wrapped. 

“Holy—” You start, but you see Bob nod his head, and your clothes literally go flying off your body. 

“Need you right now,” He breathes out, and your body floats over to him. Good to know that Bob could throw you around with his mind. You land on his lap, just as the vines fall away from around him. 

He only wants to focus on having you.  

“Bob, what happened?” you ask gently, caressing his cheek.

He’s so sensitive to your touch that he lets out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut under your fingertips.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he leans in, mouth finding your collarbone, marking it with slow, desperate kisses. He’s been craving you, and that's evident.

“Bob…,” you whine, getting lost in his touch. You’re sure he can’t be affected by the sex pollen capabilities of the plant, so it must have found a way around it. 

He kisses his way from your collarbone to your neck to your earlobe, gently nibbling on it. 

“I’ve been wanting to be inside of you for weeks,” he confesses, finally saying it, feeling like a weight off his shoulders. 

Your heart jumps in your chest, and something about the way he says it, all breathy and needy, goes straight to your core. 

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, every movement he makes methodical. “Every time you’d climb in my lap or grip my hair when we’re kissing, all I could think of was how you looked lying out on that examination table that day.”

His hand runs down your stomach until he’s gently pressing on your aching pussy, not moving yet. “How good you felt to touch… You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to just bend you over and…”

You gasp, feeling him start to move his hand, rubbing your clit in slow circles. “And just fuck you,” he says finishing his sentence. 

“Need to fill you up,” he says and moves you until you’re over his dick. “Can I?” 

You nod excitedly. Who were you to deny him when he’s so cute asking for permission? 

He slides in, and you remember just how good it feels to have him inside of you. Your walls stretching to accommodate his size, the biting pain that melts into pleasure, there’s nothing like it. He makes the most of it immediately, moving in sync with you. 

“So perfect,” he moans, like he’s finally gotten that relief he’s needed so badly. 

It’s clear he’s desperate for you, and only you.

“Want my cum to be dripping out of you for days,” Bob rasps, as he thrusts harder. 

That was a surprise.

“O-okay,” you squeak. He looks at you like he’s starving, like only you can satiate this aching hunger that’s eating him alive from the inside out.

You had never heard Bob talk like this, but you kinda liked it. 

He locks eyes with you, something fierce and tender flickering there, then pulls you flush against his chest. He starts thrusting into you with inhumane force, which makes you drool. His breath brushes your ear as he whispers, “You feel that? That’s all for you.”

“Bob!” you scream as he bounces you up and down on him with vigour.  You cry out his name so loud, you swear the other Avengers might hear it over the potted plant chaos. It feels so good, you swear you’re about to lose your mind.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you reply immediately.

He slows down, holding you by the hips and rocking you gently, the head of his cock pushing right against your sensitive spot. He leans in and kisses you like he’s scared you’re going to disappear, his whole body pressing into the moment, as he pours every ounce of feeling into it.

You're his world, and in that kiss, there’s no mistaking it. He wants you just as much as you want him.

He pulls back, kissing you on the forehead. Before you can even think of whining at the loss of him, you’re in the air as he flips you over with his mind. That was going to take a lot of getting used to. 

You end up back on the bed, legs spread, waiting for him to fill you up again. The anticipation is almost killing you and just when he decides to tease you, pushing the head of his cock against your entrance but not giving you want. 

“Bob, please…,” you beg, looking behind you to try and convince him with doe eyes and a pouty lip, but an invisible hand forces you to face the front and arch your back. You can feel Bob’s both of actual hands replacing his dick, spreading your wet folds apart.

“Don’t tease me like this,” you complain, still at the mercy of Bob’s invisible hold on your hair. Then catching you off guard he gets underneath you and starts licking at your pussy.

“Bob!”

He sucks your folds hungrily, like he was starved of you, before flipping you around over like a rotisserie chicken to get more access. You land on your back, chest heaving as you look up at Bob, so determined to please you. 

“You’re so beautiful, can’t believe I have you all to myself,” he praises before diving back in and turning your brain to soup.

You’re about to close your legs, too sensitive to the feeling, but the plant now sprang back to life with impeccable timing, catching them to keep them open. The vines deepen the stretch of your legs to allow Bob all the access he could ever want.

You watered it every day, gave it sun, and now it betrays you, just when you think you know a plant. Traitor.

He laps you up, your slick coating your lips as you continue to squirm. “Gonna die…,” you breathe out, and you’re surprised you’re not already dead. 

You try sitting up, but again that invisible force pulls your body around like you’re a puppet. He takes your arms with his mind and pins them above your head as he continues to please you with his mouth. 

“So…mean…” you whine to which you feel the vibration of his chuckle on your pussy. 

When you look down, you catch his eyes, glowing gold and full of desire for you. 

Just when you feel like you’ve had enough, you feel his fingers rubbing on your clit and more fingers pressing on your g-spot? Or at least you thought it was his fingers, but when you looked down, Bob’s hands were under your knees, so he was doing it with his mind. You didn’t know he had that much control, but you’re glad he did. 

“Bob, you’re fucking magical,” you say, as you let your head loll against the sheets. 

If his telekinesis wasn’t keeping you flat, you’d be arching your back off the bed as you scream out his name again. 

The moment you finish is something you’ll never forget. You’re whining because you can feel the orgasm coming but a final lick on your clit, as he looks up at you sends you crashing.

You fight against the hold the plant has on your legs, and the hold Bob has on…well, the rest of you, but it’s no use. The orgasm rolls through your whole body as you’re practically forced to stay still. 

He finally lets you go and shoo the plant away from your thighs. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, checking up on you, and you nod. You may be slightly (very) disorientated but you could fuck until the sun came down and then continue to fuck until the sun came up again. 

He pulls you up to a seated position, arms wrapped gently around you, letting you catch your breath as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, words soft and warm enough to melt you.

“Want to keep going?” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your skin.

“More than anything,” you breathe, and before he can respond, you shift, taking him by surprise as you climb on top of him, eyes locked with his.

The look on his face?

Completely undone.

His Adam’s apple jumps and he gulps, eyes locked on you like he’s trying to memorise every inch.

You were so beautiful, so sure, so sure of him. It made something ache deep inside him.

“You want no one else?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, needing that confirmation. 

“Just you,” you say without hesitation, and it’s all he needs to hear.

You run a finger slowly down his abs, watching the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

Then your desire takes over, and then leaning down, licking a line from the bottom of his abs to the top, savouring the way his breath catches, the quiet, broken sound he makes in response.

He's yours, and right now, you're making sure he feels it. You even feel his whole body shiver when you do that, a subtle tremble beneath your touch, and it gives you a quiet satisfaction. It’s something special, knowing you can unravel him like this. That even someone as powerful as Bob Reynolds can fall apart in your hands.

 He’s looking up at you with wide eyes, “Always wanted to do that.”

They were perfectly crafted. What were you supposed to do, not lick them?

You hop back on top of him and start rubbing his cock against your entrance, knocking him out of his stupor. He reaches for you immediately with a quiet beg, “Please.”

You can never handle it when he asks you for anything, so you oblige. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock but when it comes to riding him, it’s hard and fast. 

He’s crying out your name as he clutches at your hips. 

You roll your hips faster and the plant comes to help you this time, pulling his hands from you and holding his arms down. Even though he could break the hold at any time, he’s rather enjoying being entranced by you. The way your body moves made him want to give you anything and everything. 

“You like this?” he asks, voice needy but happy. He loved seeing you feel good; he loved being the one making it happen. 

“I like everything you do to me,” you say back, breath hitching, fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer.

And the way he looks at you then, like you just gave him the universe, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You slow your pace for just a moment, catching your breath, and his eyes, before leaning in to press a soft, tender kiss to his forehead.

It’s gentle, the kind of kiss that says I’m here.

But next thing you know, you’re being plucked off of him and placed at the edge of the bed so your trembling bottom half hangs off of it. He was putting you through your paces today, that’s for sure. 

You feel him suddenly behind you as he runs his fingers over your body with reverence and lays a soft kiss on the small of your back. He pushes you legs apart and pushes in without warning but at this point, to his cock, your pussy was a second home. 

You grip the sheets as once again you’re being ganged up on by Bob and the plant. You feel tendrils wrap around your legs and ankles, lifting you in the air to create more space for Bob and invisible hands grab your hands from their death grip in the linen to place them behind your back.

He’s fucking you so hard, the bed is shaking. You can quite literally hear the legs groaning under the pressure and screws coming loose as it scrapes, inch by inch, across the floor.

“More, please, more…” you blurt out, your mind halfway across the world

In response, the plant wraps around you more, pushing you back to meet his thrusts. The sound of your hips meeting his echoes in the room so loud, it’s obscene. 

“Only want you,” he says, his voice sounding completely wrecked. 

He’s so deep inside you now, stretching you out so perfectly,  you can barely handle it.

Your legs spasm and shake, you know you’re close, and so does he.

“I’m close too, I know,” he says like he’s reading your mind and picks up the pace. You’re barely holding on, moaning so loud you might lose your voice. 

You wanted to be fucked senseless and you suppose this is it. 

The toe curling, leg shaking, drool inducing pleasure tears through you once again as you slobber out a series of “Fucks” and “Bobs”.

And before you can catch your breath you feel his cock twitch inside of you then you’re being flooded with his cum, it feels never ending. He just keeps pumping you full of his load before he presses down on top of you, kissing everywhere he can reach. 

“I love you so much,” he pants out, almost quiet enough that you don’t catch it.

He freezes.

Then suddenly, he’s off you, untangling himself, backing away like he’s afraid he said too much. Your limbs, once wrapped up in Bob and the tentacles, now lie free and cold in the absence of him.

He won’t look at you. His hands fidget. His breathing’s uneven. He’s spiralling. He’s thinking too hard.

What if it was too soon? What if you thought it was stupid? What if—?

“I love you too.”

His head snaps up, eyes wide, meeting yours. You’re looking right at him, that beautiful, grounding smile on your face, the one that always reminds him of sunshine after a hurricane.

“I love you,” you say again, slower this time, to make sure he knew you meant it.

Then you hold out your hand.

And when he hesitates for half a second, you yank him back down onto the bed, right next to you, where he belongs. 

The moment you two settle, you hear a creak, then another, and before you know it, the whole bed collapses with a definitive thud. All you could do was laugh, breathless and tangled in sheets with him.

“I’m sorry. Got a bit carried away,” he says sweetly, laying a gentle peck on your cheek. Bob Reynolds, folks. Talking to you all sweet as if he wasn’t railing you so hard, his bed collapsed.

You look around and see the plant sitting there innocently, like it hadn’t just caused a full-scale disaster. The state of Bob’s bed has the place looking like a tornado tried to redecorate.

“Seems you had a lot pent up,” you say, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “So did I.”

He nods, quiet for a beat. “One of us should’ve said something.”

“I agree. So let’s agree to communicate,” you reply, exasperated but softening, “instead of letting a plant interfere and tear the tower apart… again.”

He smiles, small, sheepish. “Deal.”

Slowly, his eyes flick to the plant in the corner. “Do you think that’s why the plant did this?”

The plant had been oddly in tune with both of you, following your every move like you were its favourite reality TV show. You sigh, dragging a hand down your face.

“Fuck, probably…”

Then, the door slams open.

“Wait! There are naked people in here!” you yell instinctively, cuddling up to Bob, who yelps and fumbles for the blanket.

Alexei freezes mid-step, unbothered. “Just checking you and Bob still alive,” he says, then nods toward the chaotic hallway behind him. “There’s a team meeting. Everyone’s… angry.”

You groan into Bob’s shoulder. “Of course they are.”

You both get dressed and peek your head out in the hall. The vines are gone, but there’s a significant amount of damage (those flowers could pack a punch) that they left behind.

When you step into the living room, you’re happy to see everyone’s alive and unfucked. 

The yellow and pink flowers sit peacefully without a care in the world in the middle of the room, with the rest of the Avengers, who look like they just survived a hard-fought battle. 

You and Bob waddle out of the wreckage and stand in front of them.

“Hey guys…,” you say sheepishly, brushing a leaf out of your hair. This was the second time a plant-related attack happened on your watch, so safe to say you weren’t feeling too great.

“Again? Really?” John throws his hands up. The plants got him the worst, as he was only left with his beret, boxers and his shield. “How did the other two get here?!”

You shrug, half-defeated. “I think the first plant summoned the other two?”

A collective groan and chorus of exasperated sighs ripple through the room. You think you hear Ava mutter about “never trusting a flower again.”

“How?” Yelena asks, exhaustion rife in her voice. 

“With a dance?” you say, instantly regretting your own words. “It was a kind of shimmy,” Bob adds, trying to be helpful, and you squeeze his hand with a smile. 

There’s a long pause.

Bucky sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s it, we’re banning plants. Or we won’t have a tower left to work out of.”

“Agreed,” you and Bob say in unison. 

Main Masterlist || Marvel Masterlist

[angelicscz]

ྀིྀི.˚ jax headcanons

a complication of general & relationship jax headcanons

↳ before you read: lowercase intended, gn reader, written after ep 5 - before ep 6, ooc jax (?), terribly rushed, not proff read.

first of all; this guy is a massive jerk, he knows it, you know it, we all know it and it's a fact. nobody really likes him besides perhaps pomni, everyone else tolerates him; 'cause what can they do about his antics?

let's not forget about the fact that he has keys to everyone's room, he pranked everyone at least once. i'd like to say that he pranked ragatha and gangle the most. kinger is the one whom jax pranks the least.

he secretly cares about everyone, as i said before he has the keys to everyone's room, he has them not only for his stupid pranks but for emergencies as well. he was once too late to help his friend ribbit (the character that we saw on the door in ep5) and couldn't get to open the door. imagine you couldn't help the only person who truly cared for you in this forsaken cirsus. imagine knowing that they're getting abstracted on the other side of the door and you can't do anything about it.

build his walls up high, if you were to break them to see the true him it'd take a while. he hides his insecurities and problems behind his obnoxious personality, yet deep down he wants to be heard. he wants to be comforted but he wouldn't take the comfort well, generally would be really awkward about it.

despises crying in front of anyone, despises voicing his needs, despises talking about his past life in a serious manner, despites being ignored even though everyone is telling each other to just "ignore him".

canonically he's the youngest in the cirsus; he's twenty-two (22) so theoretically he had it the worst as he had the whole life ahead of him just for it to be taken away in the blink of an eye. he could've start his own business, start a family, explore the world and so much more, but again everyone in the cirsus had to experience the shock of the new world, new body, new name and the unfortunate memory loss.

in the real world he'd listen to msi, have black nails and be the type of person to work night shifts. :p

he journals to keep his sanity!! tried to keep track of the days trapped in the cirsus but lost track after a few months. at first he used to journal everyday but he rarely writes anything in it these days, but when it does you bet he'll write out like 3 pages. has a small list of what everyone is startled by and a small list of all of caine's adventures.

he is really expressive, his ears show his emotions really well and he gestures with his hands all the time when he talks, often exaggerating everything. body language can tell you everything!!

him catching feelings for someone in the cirsus would be extremely rare as he really doesn't take the digital world seriously, but it is possible; a really really slow slow burn. now he wouldn't even realize when he caught feelings for you, it just slowly progressed into something more than friends.

I like to think that the moment he realized he had a crush on you is when he was journaling and started writing about you, a lot about you or someone like ragatha or zooble point his obvious different behaviour when it comes to you.

its subtle but it's there: the way his voice slightly softens when talking to you, the way he always soughts to be at your side, the way he's staring at you from across the room, the way his pranks are even more harmless, the way he doesn't actually walk into your room and makes obvious loud noises to signal that he's here; he wouldn't knock though.

jax's love language is quality time and acts of service. he is very observant, he already knows you will need something before you do.

terrible at giving affection, even worse at receiving it. PDA is a no no for him unless he is the one who initiates it. please don't hug him out of the blue in front of the others, poor boy will be so awkward and flushed. HOWEVER he loves giving you suprise kisses, hugging you from behind, silently telling everyone you're his. and he is yours.

A TEASE, talks big but if you tease him back? he might actually explode.

twirling strands of your hair around his fingers, playing with the hem of your clothes, a hand on your waist, on your back is how he expresses his affection and love for you. further into the relationship he'll get more comfortable with bigger acts of affection like hugging and kissing.

actually goes crazy over how you see him, it was the worst in the crushing state. he doesn't want you thinking badly of him, he doesn't want you listening to others how terrible he is. his mood WILL change whenever you're mad at him. he will try to apologize in his own way, acting like its not that big of a deal in front of you knowing damn well he couldn't sleep because of it and sweated his ass off.

wouldn't know how to comfort you if you started crying in front of him or he found you crying in your room or really anywhere in the cirsus. would just look at you first, stare. you'd think that he's judging you but he really doesn't know what to do. after a while he'd just sit next to you and wait for you to open up or tell him to fuck off. he genuinely doesn't want you abstracting, anyone but you.

1.2k words | navigation

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TYRANT- J. MILLER

day twenty four of the june bug masterlist

pairing: older! dilf! joel x fem! reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: you're home for the summer and the local bar is having a western night- and a certain older cowboy catches your eye. good thing you know how to lasso them in and ride them good...

warnings: SMUT- reverse cowgirl ofc, heavy praise kink, petnames, swearing, size kink, daddy kink, hair pulling, joel lowkey mocking and being all condensending, truck sex in the parking lot (kinda exhibitionism?), heavy flirting and sexual tension, intoxication

this is inspired by the time my local bar was hosting a country night and i made a "cowboys only" tramp stamp... yeah

“tyrant every time i ride it, every time i ride it/ make it look so good, try to justify it- boy, i know they're lookin' for me, how we gonna hide it?/ ride it like hydraulics, i am such a tyrant"- tyrant, beyonce

It had started as a joke.

And then, it hadn’t.

You had no marks on your skin, free of ink. Except for the eyeliner that had been used instead, for tonight.

It was Western Wednesday at the local bar- the go to spot back home surrounded by hay bales and tumbleweeds. Without a question being asked, you and your group of girlfriends had gathered at your house to get ready, talking over each other with excitement, catching up as you had all retunited from time away at school.

After a few drinks had been tossed back and rollers had been placed in heads of hair, you brought up the idea. It was silly, and you couldn't get through it without bursting out in giggles.

What if… what if I got a tramp stamp? Just for the night?

It had ended with you flat on your stomach, your friend scribbling your request in pretty font, just above where your thong poked out from your low rise jeans.

Cowboys Only, with a little bow under it.

It was teasing.

Poking out from under your little tank top whenever you lifted your arms up, throwing your head back to laugh and dance with your girls.

And it had gotten you exactly where you wanted to be.

On top of an older cowboy.

He had taken his time before he approached you. Heavy, heated gaze latched onto your figure as you slid past the wooden swinging doors, chatting with your crowd. Your eyes had met his instantly. Heat pooled in your panties and you knew.

That one. I want that one.

He was older, you could tell by his weathered hands and salt and pepper hair that framed his deep, dark puppy dog eyes. That had narrowed in on you.

Like a predator had found its prey.

You waited. You never claimed to be easy, even though you had spent your time gushing about how attractive the stranger in the corner was to anyone who’d listen. You had always joked to your girls about how badly wanted an older man to sweep you off your feet one of these nights.

You hoped tonight was the night.

It had taken a drink or two for you to let yourself relax a bit more, to get used to the buzz of the chatter and the neon lights of the bar. It was then you could dance, swaying your hips seductively side to side, feeling his eyes on you as he sipped on his beer.

Observing the little font that graced your lower back.

Your eyes met his again as you made your way up to the bar, sliding up next to him as you ordered a whisky sour.

“What's a pretty lil thing like you doing here on a Wednesday night?” he murmured lowly, breath smelling like mint and tobacco.

You hummed, watching as the bartender made your drink. “Western night. I like the cowboys.”

His eyebrow raised, a ringless hand drumming the oak bartop.

“S’that so sweetheart?”

You smirked, turning to flip up your shirt, exposing the font, and a good chunk of your little thong in the process. He had already seen it, of course. You had felt his eyes on you the whole time you had danced for him.

“You haven't seen?” you giggled seductively, throwing him a flirtatious little wink as you grabbed your drink from the bartender, tossing him an extra tip as you took a sip.

The mystery man leaned in close, a hand slipping down to cup the dip of your spine. You savoured the touch, his large palm covering the ink, warm and soft as he gripped you in place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game darlin.” he grumbled, southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine.

You hummed. Teasing him, as you leaned more into his touch. Letting his hand slide down to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze. Letting him be a disgusting pervert, when he knew he was so much better than that.

He was a gentleman. But you made him want to be anything but.

“How so sir?”

The name sent him spiralling. Fuck it.

“Because I’m twice your age, if not more darlin. And you’re making me think about dirty things.”

You battered your lashes at him, leaning down to rest your elbows on the bar, showing full cleavage. Doe eyes wide and innocent- while your actions were anything but.

“What things?”

“I wanna take you back to my truck and show you how a real man fucks. Cause I bet that pretty lil pussy hasnt been treated right by anyone your age.”

Well. That was the truth.

You wanted to find out what it was like, just once- to see where this could lead you. His dirty words sparked that flame in your lower belly, squeezing your thighs together.

Finishing your drink in one big swig, you slammed the glass down on the wood and whipped the remaining liquid that trickled from the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Well, what's stoppin you old man?”

゜✭・.・✫・゜ ゜✭・.・✫・゜

“Fuckkkkk. Joellll-” you moaned, gripping his thighs as you slid up and down. He was so fucking big he nearly split you in half. And it hurt so good.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours honey, you know daddy doesn't like when you use dirty words.” he chuckled, admiring your pretty form swallow him up, a creamy ring formed around his base and grey pubes.

It took everything in you to not fold, your legs already quivering from the multiple orgasms he had given you already. Your brain felt incoherent.

“Mmm s’sorry I didn't mean to-”

“I know sweetheart, you're such a sweet girl. Heads just gone all dumb f’yer old man eh? Poor thing.” he cooed, taking your hair in his hands, tightening his grip on you.

Your head leaned back, still continuing to ride him in reverse cowgirl as he taunted you.

He was right. You hadnt been fucked like this before. And you never wanted to go back.

“Need s’help daddy please-” you cried, as you clenched around him again.

He knew your body like it was his own, making it sing and hum for him as he played it like an instrument. Despite him just meeting you tonight. He knew how to make you scream for him. Your voice was hoarse, and he could feel your legs start to quiver.

“Awh sweetheart I thought my lil cowgirl knew how to ride?”

You moaned as your pace was interrupted by his hips pummeling up into you, taking full control. Your back arched , your hair tugged on as if he was holding reins as you bounced from his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his thighs, a sharp cry leaving your lips that echoed off the fogged up windows of his pick-up.

“There you go darlin, just needed your daddy to help ya out yeah? My sweet girl just needed someone to take control of this tight lil cunny.” he whispered, a cocky smirk on his lips as he watched you squirm for him.

That damn ink flashed back at him- and he couldn't help but feel proud of himself for fulfilling the claim.

“S’good Joel, you feel so damn good…” you moaned, sweat trickling down your body, the smell of sex clinging to you like a second skin.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum again?”

“Please, need to-” He chuckled lowly.

“Go ahead baby. Askin so nicely, always with the manners. M’gonna keep a sweet thing like ya around, ya understand?”

You nodded feverlishy, cuming around his cock with a cry as it hit that one spot that had you seeing stars. Basked in the comfort of his strong hands as they left your hair, finding their way to rest on your hips.

“Joel..”

“M’almost there sweetheart, just gonna use you for a lil okay? That sound okay baby? You just sit there and be all pretty.”

He moaned, letting his head roll back as you clenched around him tightly, biting his lip so hard he almost tasted copper.

“Fuck you're so tight. Such a sweet little cunt. Knew she’d take me so good.”

A few more sloppy thrusts into you and he was spent, filling you up to the brim, cooing sweet nothings at your worn out frame. He had fucked you so hard you knew it was a closed case.

He was the only cowboy you wanted. 

[happyk44]

[ID: Text reading: And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.

And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel they brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?

2. Text reading: What is evil anyway, a sad soul infected with devils who take his will, or a man thinking of all his mother’s children he loves himself the best?

3. Illustration. Two figures watch a flaming car from a safe distance. One of the figures is completely yellow, like a bright light. The other figure is dark and shadowed beside them.

4. Text reading: The first thing God made is love then comes blood and the thirst for blood

5. Text reading: Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything ferocious or intentional with another person.

6. Text reading: Brother, my brother Oh, now the darkness comes alive It comes for me and I come for you

7. Text reading: This is my brother and I need a shovel to love him.

8. Text reading: [Roman:] You fucking bastard.

Kendall: I love you, man.

Roman: I fucking hate you.

9. Text reading: They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it.

10. Painting. Abel lies on the ground, trying to shield himself with one hand while Cain stands over him, one foot on his brother to keep him down, arms raised and ready to swing his club. The colours of the piece are mostly dark and muted, but Abel is coloured much more lightly, as though a beam were shining down against his chest and face. Cain is heavily shadowed, save for part of his face displaying focused intent, the length of his arm as he prepares to kill his brother, and the leg he’s used to keep Abel pinned.

11. Painting. Abel lies splayed out on the ground. Gripping a stick in one hand, Cain leans against a nearby rock and stares at his brother.

12. Text reading: and I killed my brother I had to and only wish I hadn’t washed my hands in the river the water remembers so long

13. Text reading: I really love you, but I can’t fucking stomach you.

14. Text reading: “If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?”

15. Text reading: there is something wrong with you

There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me

16. Tumblr post from @/vampowers dated July 22nd 2023: sibling relationships are so strange… like I love you. You will never understand me in a way that matters. We are the same person in drastically different ways. We are sewn together. We don’t talk. We are attached at the hip. You wish I was never born. Can I call you. Let’s eat together. I forgive you. Etc

17. Text reading: You ask would I have done it for a husband or a child my answer is no I would not. A husband or a child can be replaced but who can grow me a new brother.

18. Text reading: Your sister haunts you. Your sister was wounded, long before she was killed. Your sister has always been wounded.

19. Text reading: Roman: Why do you love trying to hurt me do you think?

Shiv: It’s something to pass the time I guess?

20. Painting. The version of the painting has been cropped. In the full version, three women, anthromorphised depicts of Courage, Despair and Anxiety, hide behind a large rock observing a battle. What is visible in this cropped version is Anxiety gripping her shawl while Courage holds her wrist. Courage leans away from the other two. Despair sits further behind them in the shadows.

21. Text reading: You who I called brother How could you have come to hate me so? Is this what you wanted?

22. Text reading: And Cain says, “When you split me and my brother in the womb, you did not divide us evenly. He got kindness, and I got longing. He got complacence, and I got ambition. I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.”

23. Text reading: Who kills their own brother? Well, someone who loves him very much.

24. Tiktok comment from corinne reading, “I was so selfish. I was just a kid. I was so mad. I’m so sorry”

25. Text reading: And what can I tell you my brother, my killer What can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you I’m glad you stood in my way

26. Text reading: hello, brother, hello? hello in there, brother, can you hear me? it’s a long tunnel to the grave

27. Still from the TV show, Succession. The three Roy siblings - Roman, Kendall, and Siobhan - stand in a room. While they're standing beside on another, there's decent space between the three of them.

28. Text reading: Oh, I could call you names now. List a hundred reasons for why you were awful. But what would that do? Where would it leave me? [highlight] I still loved you. I still have to live with that. [end highlight]

29. Text reading: In the Field, the ground warms as blood seeps into the dirt.

/end ID]

MY BROTHER / MY KILLER

"The King James Bible, Genesis 4 / "Black Leopard, Red Wolf" by Marlon James / "Car Crash" by Jenna Andersen / "Stratis Thalassinos Among the Agapanthi" by George Seferis (tr. by Edmund Keeley) / "You are Jeff" by Richard Siken (1) / "Brother" by The Rural Alberta Advantage / "A Brother named Gethsemane" by Natalie Diaz / "Succession" Script (1) / "You are Jeff" by Richard Siken (2) / "Cain Killing Abel" by Pietro Novelli / "The Death of Abel" by Gustave Doré (1866), recolored / "Lupa" by Matthew Nienow / Succession, S04 EP 10, "With Open Eyes" / "My Sister's Keeper" by Jodi Picoult / “Mirror Traps” by Hera Lindsay Bird / post by tumblr user vampowers / "Antigone", tr. by Anne Carson / "6 ways to draw a circle" by tumblr user filmnoirsbian / "Succession" Script (2) / "Courage, Anxiety and Despair Watching The Battle" by James Sant (detail) / "The Plagues", Prince of Egypt, dir. by Brenda Chapman / untitled poem by tumblr user nathanielorion (1) / "After Abel" by Dante Émile / comment from tiktok / "Famous Blue Raincoat" by Leonard Cohen / "For my unnamed brother" by Toi Derricotte / Succession screenshot / untitled, Sue Zhao / untitled poem by tumblr user nathanielorion (2)

[rivereverie]

Just some observations on Astarion learning to see that he is loved

I just saw a clip of Astarion's response to his partner cheating on him with Mizora and it got me thinking. While his entire reaction is very telling and meaningful in its entirety, one line stood out to me:

"I really thought there was more to you. That you were better than other people"

This was striking because it immediately reminded me of something else he says, in the scene after his siblings attempt to capture and return him to Cazador:

"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that."

These lines feel a little odd at first, because Astarion isn't known for putting the PC on a pedestal. I don't think that's exactly what he's doing here. I think these lines are just capturing the inner chaos and contradiction that naturally come with the gradual unraveling of a long-held worldview. At this point, Astarion is able to process that one person cares for and accepts him, but only one. They must be an outlier: an exception to the rule. Surely they're something special.

Obviously this isn't true, though, and the next step is for him to learn that the PC isn't actually unique in their ability to accept and care for him him. In fact, Astarion is already loved by others and just doesn't see it. This line of his is beautifully contrasted by Karlach's reaction to Astarion's near-abduction. She is righteously angry and protective because she loves Astarion too.

"I dare Cazador to sent more lackeys our way. This is our territory. I'll crack anyone who tries to come into my house and hurt my people."

Earlier in the story, we get a similar moment during the confession scene, showing again how Astarion isn't always able to see the truth of what others feel for him.

When he says this, he sounds surprised. Like the idea of a friend is a revelation. This kind of broke my heart when I first heard it, because I thought it was obvious to him that he already had friends, in both the other companions and my character. But I think a part of him genuinely was stuck in that old thought pattern of assuming that anyone who showed interest in him just wanted to use him. This also makes it clear just how divorced sex is from affection in his mind and experience. Though they've slept together at least several times and grown more emotionally intimate too, Astarion still needs confirmation that the PC actually cares for him.

I made a post once about the two triggers for Astarion's confession here, which further reveal his mindset: going out of your way and into danger to get his scars translated, or choosing not to force him into complying with Araj's dehumanizing demands. Both of these things are concrete demonstrations of respect and care for him and what he wants. Astarion knows very well how empty words can be, so actions are what finally help him believe that the PC cares about him, and gives him the impetus to confess.

Later, If you break up with Astarion, his reaction is extremely telling in that he regresses slightly from this healthier mindset he had developed:

"I can hardly blame you. I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry."

Typically, we witness any traces of Astarion's self-deprecation filtered through irony or dark humor, so his vulnerability in this moment is stark.

He claims that he has very little to offer, but that just isn't true. He may be going through a bit of a crisis, but he is still a shockingly good partner given the circumstances. He is unwaveringly supportive, caring, and clearly tries to lighten his partner's emotional load when they begin to feel the strain of responsibility. Not to mention, just being himself still makes him perfectly worthy of being loved. In any relationship, there will be times when one person needs more support than they themself can give, and that doesn't mean that they aren't enough. We're seeing, yet again, that he sometimes just doesn’t recognize how deeply he is valued by others. At this point, maybe a part of him still feels like he needs to be of service in order to be accepted, let alone loved. I also personally interpret this line as partially concerning his insecurity around not "providing" his partner with sex at this time, reiterating this deeply internalized belief that he needs to perform in order to be valued.

All of these little moments add so much subtly and humanity to his character, and make his development feel natural and earned. The payoff is clear after Cazador's death, when we get to see his new confidence:

He doesn't have to ask "really?" this time.

"You believed in me - believed I was enough just the way I am."

He truly knows now that he is loved.

[garbinge]

SHOULD'VE BEEN (2/?)

Andrew Pope Cody x F!Reader Deran Cody & Platonic!Reader Barry 'Baz' Blackwell & Sister!Reader // Word Count: 23.6k (I KNOW OKAY I KNOW) Summary: As you navigate Baz's death, your mind finds itself searching the past for ways to cope. Previous Part Reader is Baz's biological sister. With that being said, I left out physical descriptions outside of a scar on reader's face from backstory. If you catch any, always feel free to let me know and I'll edit! Reader also is (was) a doctor. Due to this, reader has a nickname which is used throughout the fic. In this fic - Pope did not kill Cath. Also, I made all the Cody boys + Baz + Reader closer in age than in canon. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Canon-level violence. Canonic character death. Mentions of being drugged/slipped something. Hazing. Bullying. Grief. Mourning. Loss of a sibling. Blood. Telling a child about parental death. Mentions of domestic abuse, Semi-graphic descriptions of wounds + violence. Psychologically difficult themes, yearning, angst, hurt/comfort. No use of y/n. SMUT with main character, insinuated smut with a non-canon character. Not really a happy ending? A/N: Okay so I will be writing another part that i already have a bunch of ideas on LOLOL. I just... live for these characters in this world. The dynamics are so ajkfhglkjdfhbljkhgka!!!!!

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:07AM

This is Tri-City Medical, we’re calling because you’re the emergency contact listed in Mr. Barry Blackwell’s phone. He was brought into the emergency department about 10 minutes ago. If you could just give us a call back as soon as possible, thank you. 

You didn’t call back, just rushed to the hospital. Traffic laws be damned, ran through traffic lights, through stop signs, you left your bike parked in between two cars, not even in a spot, before you were rushing into the ER. 

They brought you to where Baz was, he was on the operating table, you stood in the observation deck. Your arms across your chest, your left hand resting against your mouth, gnawing at your finger as you watched them insert tubes, IVs, blood bags. 

“Did you check if the bullets went through and through? If they did they should insert two chest tubes,” you turned to the doctor who was standing in the second aisle of the room. 

There was no answer, they just looked up from their notes at you and then back on the screen that was showing the internal cameras searching for the bullets. 

“They could have moved, if they hit his lungs they could have gone anywhere in his abdomen, they should be checking his abdomen!” You turned again, looking at the doctor who this time didn’t even look up from their notebook. “Are you listening to me?!” You screamed at them this time, tears pouring from your eyes before they jumped back to the window. Your brother, completely unconscious, tube in his mouth, cut open like a chicken on the operating table. 

“C’mon Baz,” you mumbled through a panicked breath. “C’mon.” 

“Ms. Blackwell, we’re gonna need to ask you to step into the waiting room.” Someone opened the door to the observation room and spoke low to you. 

“No, no, I’m watching.” You pointed at the surgery.

“You really shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” her voice was still low and polite, but you saw her eyes jump to the other doctor in the room. 

“No, it’s okay. See, I used to be a doctor, I–I don’t practice anymore, I can’t–but they brought me here because I knew–I know what’s happening.” You were fumbling, stuttering over your thoughts. 

“Ms. Blackwell,” the nurse opened the door wider. 

It was then that you heard the monitors beeping. Baz’s heart rate dropping, it wasn’t crashing just yet, but you felt your gut twist. “No, no, Baz c’mon. Pull it together. Pull it fucking together.” You spoke through gritted teeth. 

Before anything else could happen, there was a hand on your arm, pulling you back. You fought it, thrashed against it a little. “Stop, no, stop, that’s my brother, he’s my brother. I’m a doctor!”

As you sat in the waiting room, tears stained down your face along with mascara, your leg shaking in nerves, you kept gnawing at your finger. You weren’t sure if you thought about it, or if your mind was just on auto-pilot but you had your phone in your hand, the voicemail transcript was the first thing you saw as you unlocked it. The lump in your throat grovelled as the words sat in your head. The worry next to it knowing Baz was in this same building on the last thread of life. 

Without a second thought, your phone was ringing and you held it to your ear. You heard the phone pick up and before the other person could answer you spoke through cries. 

“Pope?” 

“What’s wrong?” His voice was littered with concern. 

“I need you.” 

That’s how you wished it went. That whole scenario was how you imagined it went as the police officers informed you and Pope of Baz’s death as you stood in the driveway at Smurf’s house. 

Pope’s eyes were glued to yours as the officer spoke, yours were—well you weren’t sure, you were going into an alternate world as they spoke. 

You wished you were there. You wished you picked up the damn fucking phone when the hospital called. You weren’t sure why you wanted that to be how it happened. It wouldn’t have changed anything, Baz would still be dead. 

Your brother would still be dead. 

Turning to Pope, your eyes glossed over, you extended your hand out to grab his arm, steadying yourself from the news. Through a wobbly sound that came out of your throat before words, you swallowed and gave it another shot but failed again. This time your head sent you back to a different time. Maybe not a better one, but a different one. 

2001 - College Parties Suck

Your head was spinning, and not like when you’d smoke a little too much and mix it with a little too much alcohol. This was different. This was scary. You pulled your phone out, hitting the first speed dial you had programmed in your phone. Baz. It rang 4 times before it went to voicemail. You called 5 more times, each time there was no answer. 

You moved onto the next speed dial in your phone. Pope. You tried him once, you felt your eyes getting heavier when you heard the beep to leave a voicemail. “Pope, it’s me, I uh, I don’t feel so good. I came to this party on campus, I just– I need a ride, I think. Yea, I need a ride.” 

The phone dropped into your lap and as you looked down you realized you didn’t have your shirt on, just your black bra and belt that was still wrapped around your jeans. 

You picked up the phone, moving to the next speed dial, you skipped Craig, he never answered and even in your altered state, you knew better than to even try. That's when you called Deran. 

“Hey Doc,” he answered the phone after 2 rings. 

“I uh, need a ride,” that’s when you saw the writing on your stomach. “I was at a party on campus,” you couldn’t quite make out the writing just yet, just black ink all over your abdomen. “I think someone put something in my drink.” 

“Where the fuck are you?” You heard him scrambling on the other line, the jingle of his keys, the muffling in the speaker as he moved around swiftly wherever he was. 

“I– I don’t know. There’s a statue. I’m covered in ink, I don’t have my shirt.” The panic started growing in your gut. “Deran, I’m scared.” 

“Go somewhere public, right now, with people. I’m driving to campus now.” His voice wasn’t panicked, just direct. 

“They wrote on me, I don’t think I should be in public.” You realized now what your stomach said. Cody train station. With an arrow pointing down. “Deran, I feel sick, I feel tired.” 

“I’m like 5 minutes away, try and stay awake.” Deran pressed on the gas with force, the engine loud enough to wake you up just slightly. But not enough for the full 5 minutes. He stayed on the phone with you even when you went silent. When you mentioned a statue, he knew pretty much exactly where you were and it didn’t take him long to find you.  

“Get the fuck away from her.” Deran’s voice made your eyelids open, you saw a few people around you, none of them familiar. 

“Deran?” You squinted hard and mumbled the youngest Cody’s name. 

There was some commotion, you weren’t sure if it was just shoves or punches but the next time you opened your eyes the crowd was gone and you saw the familiar long haired blonde. 

“Deran?” You asked his name again and felt the comfort the minute you heard his voice close. 

“It’s Deran. I’m taking you home.” He pulled you up off the ground. That’s when he saw the writing on you. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you rolled over and began to upchuck. 

“Let it out, that’s good, maybe you’ll throw it up.” Deran was rubbing your back referring to whatever was slipped in your drink. 

It took 20 minutes, but Deran eventually got you in his car and drove you back to the house. It was there that you passed out next to him on the couch in the living room. You were lucky it was a quiet night at the Cody house. He put a pillow down for you to rest your head on, occasionally scratching the top of your head with his fingers to make sure you didn’t fall asleep completely, he wasn’t sure if that was just something you did with concussions or being drugged too so he figured there couldn’t be any harm in it to play it safe.

He didn’t bother trying to remove the marker from you, just gave you one of his cut offs to keep you semi-warm in the car. You made it very clear that you wanted to lie down when you got back to Smurf’s house so he wasn’t going to bother with clothes or cleaning you up until you were more alert. 

The two of you were watching pre-recorded surf competitions, every so often you’d fade into some version of sleep and wake up when you felt Deran scratch at your head. 

“College parties suck,” you mumbled the words while a commercial played on the TV. Then you tried to tap Deran’s side. “Thank you.” 

Before Deran could answer, the sliding door slammed, alerting both of you. Pope was running down the hallway from where your bedroom was, his eyes scanning around the house until they landed on you. 

His eyes then moved to Deran. “What happened, why is she asleep on the couch?” Pope pointed and was waiting frantically for an answer. 

“She was at a party, got drugged, they did some twisted ass shit to her.” Deran’s voice was low, not trying to startle you. 

“What did they do to her?” Pope’s jaw was clenched as he asked, his mind going to a million different places, each one making him angrier than the last. 

“They wrote on her stomach, she has marks on her arms so I think they tied her up for a bit, so people could see her, when I got there she wasn’t at the party, she was on the road, had a group around her but I don’t think anyone you know—touched her.” Deran swallowed hard, he felt a little below water with all of this. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Pope was wracking his brain around seeing you like this, so out of it. Not in a sleepy way but in a fucked up way. He’d seen you drunk, he’d seen you high, this was nothing like that. 

“Pope?” You groggily lifted your head, as you moved, the cutoff tank rode up and he saw the writing. 

Pope saw red. His eyes felt hot, his fists balled up, his jaw wasn’t just clenched anymore but wound so tight he could taste the iron from how hard he was biting down. He knew exactly who did this. It was the same thing that frat asshole Shotgun Shep had said to you that night he got rocked by Craig and caused a scene with you last summer. 

“If you ever need me, you keep calling me, you hear me!?” Pope was yelling at you now. 

“I called Baz.” Your voice was a little whiny. 

“I’m talking about me! ME.” Pope raised his voice, his finger slamming into his chest. 

That’s when Deran sat up a little bit. “Dude, she’s out of it, chill.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled the words, the guilt starting to rack in your mind. “Where’s Baz?” 

“I don’t know.” Pope answered, his voice still loud but less accusatory now, his own guilt in yelling at you after he saw Deran’s response.

“Where’s my brother?” You now had the same tone as he did earlier. Demanding and raised. “Where’s BAZ?!” This time your voice gripped to the back of your throat as you yelled.

“What’s up?” Baz walked in from the kitchen, beer in hand, casual as ever. 

“I needed you.” You weren't looking at him, your words were slurred still. You felt your heart ache. It was one thing to experience him blowing you off, barely talking to you—you know, losing your friendship with your older brother. But this felt worse than all of that. You needed him. You needed your older brother. All the times he needed you, you’d be there, and he couldn’t reciprocate that anymore? 

“What’s her deal?” Baz was chuckling as he raised his beer bottle to his lips. 

“She was roofied.” Deran’s voice was firm, 

“No shit,” he let out a scoff, one that would have earned him a fist to the face from you if you were of sound mind. 

“It was Rick Shepherd.” Pope spoke up now, the anger in his voice was what you were feeling in your mind. 

“Shotgun Shep?” Deran was looking at Pope with a frown, trying to understand how he knew that information. 

“He called her that the last time he was here, at the summer party, Cody train station,” Pope pointed to your stomach, at the writing. 

“So we gonna beat the guy up?” Baz extended his hands out and shook his head, a small shrug left his shoulders too, like he was asking if they should order chinese or pizza. Not something this serious. 

Pope’s eyes practically burned into Baz’s skull, the anger pouring out of them. 

“Taking that as a yes we’re beating the guy up.” Baz dipped his head from side to side before finishing the beer off and tossing the empty bottle on the couch. He began walking down the stairs into the living room, nonchalantly headed towards you. As he leaned over your body, Deran moved his arm so that Baz could replace it with his, pressing the pillow down into the cushions, his head dipped down and he placed a peck on your head. “Don’t worry, Dockie. We’re gonna beat the guy up.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” You turned over, despite the amount of dizziness and nausea you felt, you didn’t want to even look at Baz. 

“Love you too,” his laugh echoed against the kitchen cabinets, he had already turned to leave with Pope. 

“Did I ruin your night?” You mumbled knowing it was just you and Deran in the living room now. Your face squished against the couch cushion. 

“No, you saved me from getting head from Jonesy Bradford,” Deran chuckled, putting his arm back against the pillow that separated you too. He slouched down a little more, that way he was closer to your face and could whisper a bit.  

“Heads head,” you shrugged and then lifted up a little in question, “Jonesy Bradford is gay?” 

“Very.” Deran laughed, eyebrows raised as he smirked. 

Shaking your head, you dropped it down back into the cushion, letting the sound of the surf competitions fill the room until you fully comprehended what Deran said. 

“You shouldn’t get head from Jonesy Bradford.” Your voice was muffled by the couch cushion, but Deran heard you perfectly fine.

“My point,” Deran let out a breathy laugh and scratched your head again, this time not to wake you up but to be playful. 

“Everyone thinks I’m a whore,” you enunciated the last word with a sigh, it sounded a little jokey but you did mean it.

“We don’t think you’re a whore,” Deran was trying to find some way to cheer you up from whatever funk was happening in your head. 

“Well no, I am a whore. Just not the Cody whore.” Your voice was muffled against the cushion. Deran knew what you meant, Deran might’ve been the only one who knew what you meant. He was the only one who knew how you felt about Pope, and you were the only one who knew how he felt about guys. Not that you two ever labeled your friendship, but for all intents and purposes, Deran was your closest friend. Sure, him and Craig were like brothers to you, but you had a friend in Deran that you didn’t have in anyone else. 

“You can’t tell Smurf,” you said seriously to Deran. 

“I won’t tell Smurf,” he replied with ease. 

“Baz will tell Smurf,” you scoffed. 

“I’ll tell him not to,” Deran always tried to find an answer for you.

“He isn’t going to listen. He never listens.” And you always found something to rebuttal his responses. “It’s fine, I stole Shep’s wallet before things went to shit,” you readjusted to pull the wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans. “Only ninety bucks in his wallet but I found a lock code. He’s in pharmacy school, I think the code is to his locker in the lab, could nab a good amount of shit we could fence.”

Deran laughed, his head shaking as he did. “That’ll save your ass if Baz blabs.” 

“When,” you corrected him. 

Suddenly, you heard footsteps coming back into the living room and Pope’s voice was loud again, like he was just as frustrated if not more than just a few moments ago. 

“If you need me, you call me 15 times until I answer, okay?!” There was a slight grovel in his voice. He had his keys gripped tight in his hand, he was getting ready to go to UCSD with Baz but for some reason came back to yell some more.  “I mean it, all you need to say is I need you and I’ll be there, you hear me?!” 

“I hear you,” your face got solemn as you looked at him, he regretted yelling again, it was clear on his face as he nodded, his eyes barely able to meet yours. “I’ll tell you I need you.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:10AM

One last shot. You were going to give speaking one last shot as you gripped Pope’s arm. The police officers were still going through their spiel of what went down. One more wobbly sound escaped from your throat followed by a whispered plea. 

“Pope, I need you.” 

“Yea, I’m here.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:39AM

You were horizontal on the back seats of the Dodge Ram. The numbness fully took over your body as you stared at the dash. Eyes focused on the radio, the controls for the vents, but you weren’t really retaining any of that information. Nor the conversation that Nicky and Pope were having, which was less of a conversation and more just Pope muttering under his breath as they looked for J on The Strand. 

Usually the motion of the car would turn your stomach laid up in the back seat like this, but you were so out of it, you couldn’t tell. As the car came to an abrupt stop, you moved slightly, Nicky grabbing your feet to hold you steady on the backseat. Pope’s eyes moved to make sure you were okay before they leaned over the console to call out to J. 

“Put her seat belt on,” he demanded back to Nicky who was quick to do it, she said something to you but you weren’t really paying attention, just focused on the middle console. “Get in!” Pope was now yelling to J who opened the door with haste and confusion. “Baz is dead.” 

Three words. That pulled your eyes off the middle console and back to two people in the front of the truck. 

“What?” J wasn’t yelling, but the shock was there in his tone, plastered on his face. As he hopped into the truck his head turned to see you horizontal in the back. “What happened?” 

No one answered him. 

He was still looking at you with sympathy, racking his mind around the information but also genuinely concerned about you. “Do you need anything?” 

2016 - Homecoming (Pilot) 

“How many times have I told you guys, bullets are the hardest to fucking treat,” your head was down as you were texting on your phone, messenger bag draped over your shoulder. “Don’t get–”

“Don’t get shot.” The trio of men repeated as they cut you off and held Craig on the pool table. 

Almost immediately you heard the familiar sound of a voice you hadn’t heard in years. As you laid eyes on the men gathered around the pool table, you saw Craig who was dripping sweat, bleeding from his shoulder, quick breaths. Then there was your brother, who was holding Craig down as he attempted to do something with the bullet wound in Craig’s shoulder, he had a shit-eating grin on his face like he was living for this moment. But then your eyes connected with the man you hadn’t seen in years, his hands holding Craig on the opposite side, no smile, just a piercing glare. The voice you’d recognize anywhere. Pope. 

 “Well at least you know,” you stayed frozen staring at him, not realizing he had gotten out of prison. I mean how could you? He stopped letting you visit, he stopped writing. He looked good, he looked healthy, his hair was cut like shit, those prison haircuts never suited him. 

“Ahhh!” Craig screamed and it brought your eyes back to the situation unfolding. 

“Is it through and through?” You shook your head and moved to replace Baz and help Craig. “Jesus Christ, you started to cauterize it, already!?”

“We pulled the bullet out, it needed to be sealed!” Baz raised his hands. 

“If you aren’t going to listen to me when I tell you to not get shot, then at least listen to when I tell you to leave it be until I get here.” You slammed your bag on the table looking for the kit of surgical tools you had stolen from the hospital inventory all those years ago. 

“Sorry, Doc.” Craig looked up through his sweat beaded brows at you. 

“Don’t say sorry to me, Baz should say it to you, this is going to hurt 10x more now.” You dropped the tools down and grabbed a saline bottle and poured it onto a fresh package of gauze. “I have to debride it, I’m going to give you something for the pain and I’m gonna ask Pope to hold this against the wound for like 15 minutes, soften the tissue. Then I’m gonna have to pick at it,” you handed the gauze to Pope who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you stepped in the room, but instead of looking at him you just went into your bag and grabbed a small bottle of morphine and a syringe to give it to him. “This isn’t a lot but it’s enough,” your eyes jumped to Craig’s who smirked, a slight chuckle escaping his mouth. 

“C’mon Doc, I got shot.” 

“And I guarantee you’re already a few lines and shots in,” your eyes were trained on the syringe pushing a little liquid out the needle. “10 milligrams.” 

He sighed with an eye roll as you placed it into his arm. “I’ll be back in 15, where’s Deran?” Your eyes moved anywhere but Pope’s. 

“He’s in the living room with Smurf, nursing his own wounds,” Baz gave you a look, one that you knew meant he fucked up the job tonight and was living with that regret. You knew better than to interrupt Smurf’s coddling so you just raised your eyebrows at your brother. Before either of you could say anything, there was a creak on the stairs that led to the hall right behind the kitchen and you both turned your heads. 

You recognized him, Julia’s kid, Josh. Your eyes went wide and then they fell to Baz who also looked a little thrown off, but less thrown than you. Everyone just stayed frozen, J’s eyes jumping from all of yours to Craig who was just slightly less loud than before, the morphine clearly doing its work. 

“Josh, right?” You broke the silence. 

“Yea, J.” You could tell he was trying to read you. 

“J,” you corrected yourself before turning to look at Pope to make sure he was putting the gauze on the wound for Craig. “Apparently it’s the night for old faces to turn up.” Looking back at J you sighed. “I’m–”

“Aunt Doc.” He finished your sentence for you. 

“Yea, Aunt Doc. You can just call me Doc, though.” You weren’t going to make a kid who didn’t know you get caught up in mannerisms. He didn’t owe you that.

It was then that you realized he probably knew you visited Julia, never for long, just enough to drop food off, say hi, you never saw him though, just Julia. You knew he was Baz’s kid, or that the chance he was was pretty high. 

“Is your mom here?” You were crossing your arms, a little shocked to see the kid all grown up and here at Smurf’s place. 

“My mom’s dead–she OD’d.” J said it with no emotion. 

Your head snapped to Baz who had his hand behind his neck, knowing you were going to ring him out for not telling you and then to Julia’s twin—Pope, for his response, but all he did was stare.

“Uh, I’m so sorry I had no idea, uhm–” you weren’t sure what to say right now, your head was going a mile a minute, trying to wrap itself around the fact that Pope was back, Julia was gone, and J seemed to be staying here now. 

“I’m gonna go to bed, kind of tired.” J pointed over his shoulder before retreating down the hall. 

“I’m away for 3 days and everything fucking happens,” You mumbled, turning around, you practically ripped the gauze out of Pope’s hand to see how the tissue on Craig’s wound was softening. “Needs more time.” You didn’t even bother to look at Pope to grab the gauze back, just turned back around towards the kitchen, your shoulder bumping into Baz’s as you did. 

“Dockie,” Baz’s head fell back in slight annoyance. 

You ignored him going into the fridge to act like you were busy doing something but it was just a mindless activity. 

“Dockie,” Baz called you again. 

“What?!” You hissed the word and slammed the fridge, hard enough that it bounced wide open again. “What excuse are you going to force me to fucking believe this time?” 

“It’s no excuse,” Baz was pleading. 

“I’m away dealing with your shit,” you pushed your finger into his abdomen, “and you can’t even fucking call me to tell me Pope got out? That Julia fucking died and her kid is fucking living here?” 

“You went to Mexico for your own shit,” Baz tried to correct you. 

Your eyes went wide. “My own shit,” you let your head fall back with a laugh. “Here’s the fucking note from your fucking mistress, and the gift you wanted me to give her fucking kid went over well,” you pulled the note from Lucy out and slammed it against Baz’s chest. 

“You went down there for your own stockpile of supplies, I just asked you for a favor,” Baz was being a shit right now. 

“Well now I’m asking you for one, keep me in the loop.” Your eyes glared into him. 

“I was going to tell you, but then Craig got shot.” There it was, Baz’s excuse. Although, it wasn’t necessarily an excuse, it wasn’t a lie. Just a sorry form of the truth. 

“I used to wish you’d just tell me the truth, but now I think it was better when you’d respect me enough to come up with some story why you’d treat me like this.” Your head was shaking in anger. 

“You ever think the reason you’re out of the loop sometimes is because you just bitch and whine, bitch and whine.” Baz’s voice barked back at you, still at a hushed tone. 

“Go play in traffic,” you spat back at him. 

“Fine—you first, I’ll bring the snacks.” He smiled sarcastically. 

“I’ll bring Lucy, that way you aren’t lonely in hell.” It was a typical fight between you two. You’d both say something fucked up, but nothing that was too harsh or heartbreaking. The real heartbreaking matter was that your relationship had gotten to this point to begin with. 

“Don’t do that,” Baz shook his head and slammed the fridge closed behind you. 

“Do what?” You made a face, scrunching your nose up and frowning. 

“Act like you don’t want me here, like you wouldn’t be completely devastated if I was dead.” That line made you freeze. You’d normally go toe to toe with Baz in a verbal fight anyday. Quick responses, even faster reaction times when he’d hit you with unexpected words. But not this time. 

You stared at him, your eyes burning into his and you realized he wasn’t just fighting with you, he was being serious. 

There was a rebuttal on your tongue. I lived without the other Blackwell man in my life, I’d do it again no issue. Dead or deadbeat. I’ll bring you beer and cat food too—make it real full circle. But you knew that was crossing a line, and whether he crossed them with you wasn’t on you. This was. 

“Just…tell me shit.” You dropped your eyes to the floor. “I don’t like being surprised.” 

“Pope’s home, Julia OD’d, J’s living at Smurfs.” Baz gripped your shoulder and shook it, his way of making it up to you. It held no weight, it was the easy way out. “I was going to call you, I promise. And thank you for stopping by Lucy’s, I know you hate it, I know you hate me for it, but I appreciate it, and you.” 

It was just words. You knew they were just words. 

“When did Pope get home?” You whispered it, knowing he probably heard the entire conversation up to this point. 

“Yesterday,” Baz dropped his head to look at you. “You’re not still…?” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand what he was saying. 

“I never was,” your eyes flew up. “What about you, Julia’s dead? How are you with all that? J?” 

“It’s Smurf’s problem, not mine.” Baz’s eyes did what yours just did.

“Alright then.” You nodded, arms crossed now. 

“Alright then.” He matched your stance. 

That was the end of that conversation, you moved back to the dining room to pick tissue from Craig. Pope stayed there the whole time, eyes on you saying no words. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Not once. Your eyes stayed trained on Craig’s wound for the full 43 minutes you picked dead and soon to be infected tissue off him. 

As you inserted an IV into his arm, you dropped the bag into Pope’s hand, still keeping your eyes anywhere but his. “He needs to be on an IV for 6 hours, when it runs out, have Baz find me and I’ll set up a new one.” You didn’t wait for him to respond, just grabbed your bag and moved down the hallway behind the kitchen, the longer way to your room but the quickest way away from Pope. 

It was there that you saw J sitting up on the bed in what used to be Pope’s old room. You stopped and looked at him, he looked like Baz, and everyone just ignored it. Without a second thought, you walked into the small patio and then into his room. 

“Do you need anything?” You said it following a soft knock on the glass door. “I’ve been away otherwise I would have been here sooner.” It was a wimpy excuse, but it was the truth, and despite your argument being completely the opposite to Baz just moments earlier, if he had started with wimpy truths from the jump, maybe you’d be somewhere different now.

“I heard,” J pointed to the kitchen nonchalantly. 

Your eyes looked back and realized both doors had been wide open and he heard your fight with Baz. 

With a nod, you exhaled and looked back at the young kid. “I’m not sure how much you’ve heard since you’ve been here—”

“I’m not gonna say anything.” He cut you off. 

“No, no, I–” You shook your head and moved to sit next to him on the mattress. “That’s not what I was saying. I just mean…” you searched your mind for the right words. “Being here is a game. One that you have to play to learn.” 

“You used to come by, give my mom meds, bring us food,” J didn’t seem to care about your words right now. 

“Yea, I did. I should’ve done more. But that’s my guilt to live with, not yours,” instinctually you wanted to tap his leg but you knew you were nowhere near that point with the kid yet so you just shook your head and moved on. “Here, take these,” you leaned down to pull a few boxes out of your messenger bag and handed them to him. “It’s narcan, I give a few boxes every so often to the guys too. Keep them on you, in case.” 

“You used to give them to my mom,” J was staring at the 5 boxes of narcan, they weren’t cheap off-brand meds, they were the name brand hospital grade. 

“Yea,” you looked down at the ground again thinking back to the boxes you’d hide below a foil container of food, just so she’d have them and not argue with you on it. Lot of good that did. “Look, I play the game, but not with everyone. This is my way of saying, I’m here for whatever you need. If you’re hurt, if you need to talk, I’m here. You’re my…nephew.” It was genuine, just like when you’d sneak away to visit Julia.

“My mom said you were like a sister to her,” you could hear the hesitation in his voice. 

“Yea,” although that’s not what you meant in calling him your nephew, but you weren’t an idiot, there was too much going on to open that box of worms right now. “I wish I did more for her.” 

“You did more than anyone else.” He finally looked at you, like he was letting you off the hook in a way. It wasn’t going to be that easy, but you did appreciate it. 

Standing up off the bed, you smiled at him. “I’ll be in the back room of the house, my old bedroom. But I have a place on The Strand,I’ll get your number from one of the guys and text you so you have my number too.” You rested your hand on the door frame. “I’m serious, let me know if you need anything.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 11:43AM “Homicide cops want us all to come down to the station for questions,” Pope was entering the living room where Deran, J, and Nicky, and you were. You had your head on a pillow, horizontal just like you were in the truck, this time just on the red couches that took up the space along the living room walls. If it was up to you that’s where you would have stayed the entire time. There would have been no dragging you into the truck to look for J, no picking up Deran at the bar, you would have been right here. Numb and parallel to the couch. 

But when you told Pope you needed him, he took that seriously. He brought you with him everywhere he went, there wasn’t a moment you were out of his radius. 

You knew he was looking out for you while also trying to have a handle on the situation, keep everyone safe. It’s why he placed you down on the couch against the pillow and made Deran sit next to you. 

“Do that shit you do,” he pointed to the top of your head after he told Deran to sit next to you. 

“What?” Deran was out of it too, not like you, but he was clearly sad. Going through the motions. His eyes were heavy, glossy, and his face was red. 

“You scratch her head or something, it calms her down.” Pope would have been the one to notice that over the years. 

Deran just looked at Pope confused before it clicked, he looked down at you completely frozen, no reaction to words, to movement to anything. As he looked back up at Pope, who moved his hand again as if to say C’mon let’s go, just do it. 

Deran obliged, his left hand went to scratch the top of your head, just his fingertips like he’d done always. It was a comfort, one that neither one of you ever noticed. As he scratched the top of your head, you normally would have closed your eyes, felt the weight of your tears and let them out but none of that happened. You didn’t even flinch from the touch, just stared blankly at the fireplace. 

Pope dropped his shoulders and handed Deran a shotgun after the failed attempt at comfort. 

The conversation continued between them, they were talking about what they’d tell the cops, who could have done this, if anyone was after them. You stayed focused on the fireplace, mind somewhere else completely. 

That was until you heard Nicky mention Lena. 

Whose going to take care of Lena? Both of her parents are gone. Does she end up in foster care?

“No.” You and Pope both spoke up at the same time, his eyes darted to yours from Nicky’s. You were pushing up off the couch, sitting up right now. “I’ll take care of her.” You said it like you were going to be babysitting for the night, not taking her on as your own for the rest of your life. But that didn’t matter, that girl needed some stability and you’d gladly be the one to give it to her. You were the only one here with a real job, the only one with a semi-clean record, a normal life. It had to be you. 

“I need the Jag,” you turned to Pope. 

“I’ll drive you where you need to go,” his voice softened in a way that it never did with anyone else. 

“No, you need to go to the station for questions,” you were keeping your sentences short at the moment, not in the right headspace to explain everything going on in your head. 

“So do you,” he frowned a little trying his best to understand. 

“I also need to identify the body, that’s what the police said this morning, and then I need to pick Lena up from school, and figure out funeral arrangements, and legal shit and make sure that I can adopt Lena or at least keep her in my custody. I need to call my job and take bereavement and I have to go to his place and figure out if I’m moving in there or taking Lena with me to my place—which one I’m going to sell.” You went from having no thoughts to a million. 

“You can’t go alone,” Pope wasn’t going to argue with you, but he wasn’t going to leave you vulnerable either. 

“I have a gun, I have a brain, if someone runs up on me I can handle them, I’ll keep my head on a swivel.” 

Pope wasn’t going to argue anymore, he just pulled another gun from his waistband as you stood up and walked to stand next to him. “Take this, too.” The gun was being handed to you, Pope had his hand wrapped around the barrel with the handle free for you to grab. A few seconds passed while you stared at Pope, the handle just inches away from brushing against your abdomen. 

“Thanks,” you grabbed it and tucked it into your waistband, then saw the Jag keys in his palm. 

As your fingers grabbed the keys, his hand gripped around yours and brought it closer to him. “You call me if you need me, I don’t care if it’s for a light on the dash or someone looks at you funny, you call me.” 

“I’ll call you, I promise,” you said it with honesty, you knew brushing him off would have done nothing but make him repeat himself again. Turning you looked back at J, and tilted your head towards the kitchen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

J’s eyes jumped from yours to Pope’s, then Deran who all gave no indication they had any idea what you were planning on saying. 

“Uh, yea,” J stood up, following you into the kitchen. It was there that you closed your eyes and tried to really pull yourself out of your head, all the thoughts that were crashing down on you that your numbing state earlier blocked out. 

“Okay, so I should’ve done this earlier. Just like with your mom, but again that’s my shit to fucking deal with, not yours. But at this point Baz is fucking dead, so any shit I was trying to tip-toe around is dead with him.” Your voice was cutting, likely the first stage of grief manifesting itself in your words. 

J’s eyes were locked on you, confused by your lack of context with what you were saying. 

“Look, I know you’re grown up, you’re 18, you don’t need someone to play mom and dad, but since Lena does, I’m going to figure out whatever I need to so she’s legally in my care. I’ll probably move her into my place or maybe I’ll move into Baz’s but either way, what I’m trying to get at is you have a place with me, alright? If you need to get away from this shit here, for good, for a night, for a week, whatever, you always have a place with me.” You were a little frantic in your delivery but it didn’t change the sentiment. 

“Thanks…” J was searching for the right words.

“You’re my nephew just as much as Lena is my niece,” that sentence was said with no shakiness, just truth. “What I’m doing for her now, I should’ve done for you then. But since I can’t change what I did then, I’m gonna do things differently now.” You nodded your head and looked up at him with soft eyes. 

“Alright,” J nodded and gave you a soft smile.

“Alright,” you nodded back, taking one quick step toward him and tapped his arm. “I’ll call you later, check on you. Let me go do all this shit.” 

Turning for the sliding doors, you paused when J called your name. 

“Let me know if you need anything, seriously. I meant it before,” J said. 

“I appreciate it, kid. But right now I need to go identify my piece of shit dead brother’s body and the conflict of that is even above my fucked up concept of life so I’ll spare you, but I’ll reach out if anything pops up.”

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 1:04PM

You wished you were numb like you were hours ago. As you bounced your leg up and down in the waiting room, your mind went through the list of everything you needed to get done. Funeral, assets, Lena, custody, place to live, the list went on. You kept your eye on your watch, checking it every so often to make sure you weren’t cutting it too close to Lena’s school pickup. The questioning was already done, they asked you where you were, names of alibis, if you knew anyone that would want to kill your brother. Normal questions. That made you chuckle to yourself, probably earning you eyes from a few people around you. Nothing about this was normal.

They called you back, like you were waiting at the fucking DMV or something, not identify your brother’s body. The frustration was seeping off your body as you walked through hallways and through door after door. After a few sighs and eye rolls, you entered the room where you saw the white sheet over Baz’s lifeless body. Almost immediately your entire mood changed, you noticed how cold it was in the room, how your hands were shaking now. As they pulled the sheet back, you felt your breath hitch, the anger suddenly gone, it was replaced with an emotion you weren’t really familiar with. It was a mix of nostalgia, a longing for the past, sonder, as you thought about the complexities of Baz’s existence as he lifelessly laid on the metal table, and a physical feeling of being so beyond out of place. You wish you could go back to being numb again, everything then was easier to deal with, probably because you weren’t dealing with it at all. As you stared at Baz’s blue and frigid face, your mind brought you back to another complicated moment in yours and Baz’s history. A recent one. 

2017 - Planning The Church Heist  

Your feet were kicked up on the coffee table as you sipped a bottle of beer. Your eyes trained on the TV but you were intently listening to the boys talk about what the next job was going to be. Yacht or church. Your vote didn’t matter and wasn’t ever taken into consideration, you never got an equal share and you weren’t expecting one now, especially since all of them were pulling away from Smurf and deciding new rules. You had started to get up off the couch, stand up to toss your empty bottle in the recycle and say your goodbyes, but the movement turned the attention on you. 

“Dockie, can you reach out to your cop boyfriend? See if security at the church has friends in blue, if there’s been any chatter of similar hits in the area, let us know what we’re walking into with either jobs.” Baz was interrupting everyone’s arguments to talk to you. 

After placing the bottle in the recycle you turned to Baz with your face twisted up ready to respond in argument when you were interrupted. 

“You have a cop boyfriend?” Pope’s question was littered in shock and a little humor, you heard the curiosity for what it was though, jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you looked at Pope to answer his question and moved your eyes onto Baz. “He’s a contact, I went to school with him, he’s a dick.”  Your arms were crossed. 

“Well, yea, most cops are,” Pope said matter of factly. 

“What am I supposed to do? Take him out and wine and dine him? C’mon. We can do our own recon, I’ll sit outside the fucking church or on the docks all night if I have to, just don’t make me go to dinner with this guy.” 

“It’s one dinner, make him pay,” Baz shrugged like it was no big deal. 

“He’s a creep, Baz.” You thought that repeating it would make him get it, and maybe, sure you were being a little over exaggerated,  but he did have a lingering eye. 

“We’ll cut you in, no more percentages.” That was his bargaining chip and he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it, you could use the money. 

“I’ll go when you go, sit in the restaurant and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t get handsy,” Deran was teasing you from his spot at the breakfast bar. 

“Can we please stop calling him my boyfriend?” You were shaking your head, you already knew you’d cave in and do it. “For what it’s worth I think both jobs are stupid and asking for trouble.” You were grabbing another beer and plopping back down on the sofa, that was your way of agreeing to do the work. 

All of them went back to arguing, you were practically done with the second beer now. This time you were going to get up and head out for real, call this asshole cop and set a time for dinner, but then you heard a little voice.

“Daddy?” 

“What?! Lena, how many times do I have to tell you? No beach. Not happening.” Baz’s voice echoed through the whole house. 

Before you even had a chance to turn around, see Lena’s face or even the rest of the guys, you heard Pope.

“I’ll—I’ll —I’ll t-take you,” his hand extended over the bar towards his niece. “If it’s okay with your dad.” 

That made you let out a silent laugh. “I’ll go with you guys,” you placed your beer bottle on the coffee table and stood up, not waiting for Baz to answer. You grabbed Lena’s hand and looked up at Pope who was making his way over to you both, picking up Lena’s drawing and complimenting her on it. 

The two of you went to the beach, stopping first on the playground that was near The Strand but still on the sand. 

You pumped your legs on the swing next to Lena, cheering her on as you both soared back and forth. Pope was leaning against the park sign post, watching both of you intently. 

“I think I’m going too fast and high,” Lena’s little voice got wobbly and you were quick to slow your own swing down and grab the chains of hers. 

“I got you,” you gripped the seat now and controlled her swings. Pope was moving towards you now, worry on his face when you looked over your shoulder. “S’ok, she just got a little nervous.” 

It was then that the swing you were on got taken by some kid who was pretty chatty, you took that as your sign to step back and let her play with kids her own age. 

You stood on the opposite side of Pope, leaning on the metal pole just like he was. 

“So you gonna call the cop?” His voice was raspy. 

“Whatever Baz wants, Baz gets.” Your voice was littered with annoyance. 

“It doesn't have to be that way,” his arms were crossed, sunglasses perched on his face. 

“Says the guy who asked his permission to take his niece to the beach, everything needs his approval, I mean even the job,” you raised your hand and it fell back down against your thigh. “You know it, too. It’s already decided, we’re doing the church.” You shrugged. “And he can’t even be bothered to be a decent dad, again.” 

“Are you really with the cop?” Pope let his internal thoughts become outloud. 

You smirked, looking out at Lena and the horizon while you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket. “No.” 

“Are you with anyone?” He reiterated. 

This time you looked over at him, hiding your smile between the cigarette in your mouth. “No.” 

Silence grew between you two. The sounds of the kids playing and yelling filled the space, Lena’s laughs and giggles as she went just as high as before, this time with no problem as she tried to beat the kid next to her. 

“You want ice cream?” Pope was pushing off the sign. 

“Only if you’re buying.” You took one last inhale of the cigarette and put it out on the bottom of your shoe before placing it in the ashtray above the trash can. 

The walk home on The Strand was nice, Lena was in between you both, huge cup of cookies and cream ice cream in her hands as she skipped happily.  You had your own cup, so did Pope. 

“You want one of my gummy bears, kid?” You scooped one up and dropped it into Lena’s cup before she could even answer. 

“Thanks Auntie Doc,” she grinned and immediately ate it. 

“Thank Uncle Pope, he splurged for us,” you bumped his shoulder. 

After she thanked Pope, her eyes fell on hopscotch squares that were drawn in chalk on the concrete, only a few feet away from Baz’s, she asked eagerly if she could go ahead and both of you agreed. 

“You used to take me for ice cream after we’d hang out at the skatepark,” you mindlessly picked the spoon of ice cream up and toyed with it before taking a bite. 

“Half chocolate, half vanilla, gummy bears and hot fudge to keep them soft.” Pope read out your order. 

“You used to scare the cashier to make sure he gave me extra gummy bears,” for you it was a funny memory, but it clearly did something to Pope. 

“Everyone’s scared of me,” he tossed his ice cream into the trash. 

Your eyes looked up and saw how genuine he was and you took a beat, taking one more bite of your ice cream before tossing it too. “They don’t understand you, Pope.” 

You let that hang in the air a bit, really wanting that sentiment to sit with him. 

“If they did,” you turned to him, now at the steps of Baz’s. “They’d love you.” 

Before he could respond, Baz was opening the screen door. “Where’s the kid?” 

“She’s playing hopscotch,” you pointed to Lena who was having the time of her life.

“You call the cop?” Baz was leaning against the column. 

“I will.” You stepped up a few steps and leaned against the railing. 

“Just ask him about the church, nothing else,” Baz was looking out at Lena and that’s when you made eye contact with Pope and raised your brows in a knowing way. 

“Auntie Doc, can you read me a bedtime story?!” Lena was yelling out from the road to you. 

“Yea, Lena-love! C’mon let’s pick one.” You waved her over but not before checking to make sure there were no cars coming. She was in your arms in seconds. “Say goodnight to Uncle Pope.” You leaned so she could reach him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “G’night Uncle Pope.” 

“Goodnight,” he nodded and you saw his smile. 

“Go, I’ll be inside to say goodnight soon,” Baz waved both of you inside, his hand squeezing both yours and Lena’s shoulders as you passed.

“I’m going to Mexico tomorrow, I might need you and Doc to pick Lena up from school and shit,” Baz thought telling Pope would be the easy one. 

“You should spend more time with her,” Pope didn’t mind picking Lena up, but he saw how little Baz had been involved lately. 

“Any more parenting tips for me, man?” There was a chuckle that left Baz’s mouth, but it was less of a laugh and more of a warning. 

“I mean, she definitely didn’t love that you yelled at her earlier,” Pope had his hands at his sides as he shrugged.

“You know, why don’t you figure out your own shit before you start telling me how to raise my kid?” Baz was yelling now, his voice could be heard from inside which is when you grabbed Lena’s headphones. 

“Why don’t we play a song to help us get in the mood for the story, yea?” You placed the headphones on her head and connected it to her tablet, quickly pressing the first mermaid video you saw since she had picked up a marine book. 

“No one's ever gonna have a kid with you, ever!” Baz’s voice was echoing so loudly, it was a miracle Lena didn’t flinch. You held up your hand to show her you’d be back in a minute. Stepping out of her room, you waited in the living room for your brother, arms crossed. 

As he slammed the door and walked into his house, he didn’t even look at you. 

“What the hell was that?” You turned your body to face him, looking out the front door to see Pope still standing there, processing Baz’s words.

“What?” He snapped. 

“You need to chill, I know you’re dealing with a lot but you have a little girl who depends on you,” you weren’t trying to be mean, you weren’t even trying to hound him, you were being honest with him. 

“You know what I need? I need you to shut the fuck up and mind your business.” He was slamming his hand on the tiled table. 

“Mind it until you need me in it, right?” You weren’t backing down. “Mind it until you call me because you’re somewhere doing something and need me to pick your kid up,” you pressed a finger to the other like you were beginning to count. “Mind it until you need me to reach out to someone I know and run recon that you can easily do yourself but don’t want to, mind it until you’re beat to shit and need meds from my fucking stockpile, mind it until you need someone to parent your fucking kid or do your laundry or dishes or straighten up your place,” your voice was just as loud now and you were glad Lena had her headphones on. 

“You know, we used to be close. Hell, you’d take fucking beatings for me. We’d sneak out and get snacks from some corner store and put Ray’s hand in hot water and watch him piss himself when he was passed out drunk in the recliner. You gave a shit about me, you gave a shit about everything. The minute we walked into Smurf’s house, I lost you to her, we all did,” you stepped closer to Baz now. “You made me lose my job, Baz. My job. What I worked hard for. What was supposed to be my life.” Your voice cracked. “And now I’m here watching your kid, taking her to the beach for ice cream with her fucking Uncle, because you can’t be bothered with anything that doesn’t serve you.” Your voice echoed against the walls. 

Baz went to respond but then stopped. His eyes changed their position, almost looking evil in what he was thinking. His tongue swiped along the bottom of his lip before he shook his head with a smirk. “If you want to play fucking house with Pope be my guest, but don’t do it with my kid.” 

“Which one? The one you abandoned Julia with? Or the one you abandoned Lucy with? Or the one you’re about to abandon?” Your words had a bite to them. “You’re not a good person Baz, you’re not. I love you, you’re my brother, and I will always love you but you suck. And for the record it’s not playing house when we’re the only two people who give a single fuck about what happens to her, you don’t care Baz, and it used to be okay when it was me, when it was Pope, but this is your child, she has no one else, she needs you. You think you’re nothing like dad but you’re the spitting image of him, but Lena doesn’t have an older brother in her life to look out for her, and you know what? She’s probably better off for it. Because he’d learn from you and abandon her when she needed him the most. At least this way she has me, she has Pope, someone who knows when school fucking ends, what grade she’s in, what TV shows she likes. You treat her like a burden and she realizes that, she’s fucking 6 years old Baz, she’s a kid, a fucking kid.” 

After your long winded statement, you didn’t give him time to answer. Turning around, you went to go back to Lena’s room, say goodbye to her and tell her you were sorry you couldn’t stay for the story. She didn’t mind, you told her you’d see her tomorrow, which was the truth, you heard Baz’s plan to go to Mexico tomorrow. 

As you closed Lena’s door, you turned to your brother who was clenching his jaw. “When you leave tomorrow, call Pope, not me. I don’t want to hear from you about anything besides the job.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 4:15PM 

That wasn’t the last time you talked to Baz, far from it. In fact, you had in some way made up from that fight at a point. You always did, but it was never a real fix. You never talked about the real problem, any real solutions, he was always running from it, and maybe in a way you were too. 

It’s what you were currently doing, running from it. As you unloaded Lena from the car in Baz’s driveway, your eyes clocked the blood stained sidewalk and the blood that was on the siding of the front porch as well. You were quick to hide it from the girl and told her to go play on the playground that was just a few feet down from his house. 

As she happily obliged, you stood on the sidewalk, your eyes staring at the blood that seeped into the concrete, it felt harrowing. It felt like a metaphor for something. The stain Baz was going to leave on your life, on everything. You felt your heart pick up, your mind was still trying to grieve the idea of Baz you had created in your head and begged for him to be, and now it was forced to deal with grieving him completely. It was a lot to take in, and seeing his blood here on the sidewalk, felt like it was forcing you to take it all in right now, rubbing it in your face. Every memory, every fight, every disappointment, every loss of what was to come, what could’ve been, what should’ve been. He was haunting you, it hadn’t even been 24 hours yet and Baz was haunting you. 

Someone calling your name brought you out of your spiral, it couldn’t have been one of the boys, they never used your full name unless it was serious and that was rare, although one could argue rare circumstances were upon you all. But you could tell by the voice it wasn’t someone that familiar, and you were right. There was Travis Callahan, the dirty cop you had wrapped around your finger. One dinner and he had made it a point to run into you at least once a week. Nothing inappropriate, but still an annoyance. 

“Hey, I just heard about your brother, I came down as soon as I could, are you okay?” He had his uniform on, his car was parked across the street, you must’ve missed it in the middle of your spiral. 

“Hey,” you closed your eyes and shook your head, “Yea, thanks Travis, you didn’t need to come down here, it’s all well you know, it’s family stuff.” You tried to put on your best brave face. 

“No, I know, I just— the guys at the station said you had stopped by right before I came in for my shift, I just figured I’d come check on you, I know this isn’t anything serious— between us meaning, but I don’t know, it’s your brother and he’s dead.” 

You tried to hold onto the sweet parts of his sentence, he was an airhead most days and today was no different. 

“Thanks for the reminder,” you smiled, sarcastically. 

“Shit, sorry. I just—just wanted to check on you.” He ran his hand through his gelled hair. 

“Thanks, Travis, really I appreciate it,” your face softened, maybe you had misjudged him all this time. When you would run into him, you didn’t talk about anything that wasn’t in small talk or co-worker talk territory, and he did just come to check on you, so maybe you should just smile and take it for what it was, someone being kind. 

“If you need a distraction, or if it helps not to be alone, I’m around, if you need…” he trailed off and that’s when you almost let out an audible laugh. Here you were feeling guilty for misjudging the guy when he was only here to jump at the chance to manipulate your grief. 

“What?” You thought you’d give him the chance to pull back a bit, earn a bit of something back, but he just doubled down. 

“You’re allowed to want comfort, you know. Even if it doesn’t make sense right now.” 

“I think I’m good, Travis. Alone is kind of my thing,” and still despite him reinforcing the fact he was a dick, you still let him down softly. 

“But you shouldn’t have to go through this alone. If you need someone, even just to stay the night, I can be here.”

“She said she was good,” Pope’s voice made both of you turn your heads, he was walking up from his truck that was parked a few feet behind both of you. 

You closed your eyes and mumbled a few words, something along the lines of here we go or great, this day sucks. 

“Pope.” Travis greeted the eldest Cody, his hands instinctively going to rest on the vest he was wearing over his uniform. “Sorry to hear about Baz.” 

“I’m sure,” Pope was behind you now. “This is kind of a family issue we have to deal with,” that was his way of politely telling Travis to leave and you knew Pope wasn’t going to ask again. 

“I’m serious,” Travis put his attention back on you. “Call me if you need anything.” 

Before you could answer, this time you planned to be a little more forceful, tell Travis you didn’t need anything and that unless he had any investigation news he should let you grieve with the family, Pope stepped in front of you. 

“She’s taken care of, Officer Callahan, you can go.” His hand pointed to the cop car. 

“Pope.” You hissed. 

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll see you around,” he waved and moved back to his car, Pope kept his eyes on him until the car was well down the street. 

When he turned back around to you, he saw how angry you were. 

“I thought you said you weren’t dating that asshole?” 

“I’m not.” You went to rub the top of your head.

“You trust him,” that realization broke Pope a little bit. He was the person you called, and despite never talking about whatever shit was going on between you, being the person you relied on was what kept Pope together. 

“He’s a contact, Pope. I trust his intel, I trust his ability to find dirt on what’s dirty, that’s it.” You were reaching a limit. “I had it handled.” 

“I handled it for you.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I thought I told you to call me if anything happened.” 

“Nothing happened!” Your voice cracked as you yelled, one arm across your chest and the other lifting off your forehead frantically. “I told you I had it handled.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Pope was a little taken back, he hadn’t heard you get like this towards him in a long time, you normally saved that for Baz. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I just— I need to tell my niece that her dad is dead and I don’t have the space to deal with this,” you moved your arms around referencing everything around you. The blood on the sidewalk, Travis and Pope’s ego contest, your crippling emotions. 

“I can tell her if you want?” Pope was just trying to be helpful now, he was dropping the Travis thing. 

With a deep breath you extended your hands out and grabbed his forearms. “No, thank you,” you let out a sigh and squeezed his arms. “Looking at the body fucked me up, I’m sorry I’m in a mood,” you shook your head and dropped his arms, letting your hand run down your face. “I can tell her, she’s on the playset right now and I’m gonna just feel it out. Can you take care of this blood, I don’t want her to see this.” You nodded to the stain. 

Pope didn’t even look at it, not even a glance or a minute to suss out the situation to see if he could even do it. He would make it happen, no questions. “Consider it taken care of.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 5:04PM

Sitting on the swings that weren’t too far off from Baz’s place, Lena to your right, sun setting in front of you, you debated in your head the best way to tell her for a while. You could wait, but it wouldn’t change anything. You could just say it, but what would that do to her in the long run? You had to do this the right way, if that even existed. 

“Hey Lena?” You leaned against the swing chain, your legs slightly moving against the ground swaying you back and forth. Her head turned to you and the way her eyes met yours despite the sun making her squint made your heart ache, but you still couldn’t find it in you to cry. “I have to tell you something that might be hard to hear, so when I tell you, feel free to ask me any questions or tell me whatever you’re thinking or feeling. None of that will be bad or wrong, okay?” 

She nodded and with one last exhale, you told her.

“Your daddy got hurt really badly today and they had to take him to the hospital. The doctors did a bunch of stuff trying to help him but they weren’t able to fix what happened to him.” You hoped that was the right way to phrase it. 

“Daddy is dead?” Her voice sounded even more innocent than before and it broke you.

“Yea, Daddy is dead.” She had to hear those words, no matter how hard they were to say.

“Were you one of the doctors that tried to help him?” Her voice was so curious, like she didn’t really process much yet. 

Her question gutted you, bringing you back to being told by the police, everything you wished happened, how you wanted to be there at the hospital but weren’t. 

But you were here now and this is what would matter moving forward. 

“I wasn’t, Auntie Doc doesn’t work at the hospital anymore,” you answered her. 

“Oh,” it was a simple response from her. 

“You know how your daddy is my brother?” You looked out to the ocean. 

“Yea,” Lena did the same. 

“When I was about your age, he was just a liiiiittle older than me. He’d take me with him to the skate park with him and Uncle Pope, and never because he had to. No one told him to take me, but he always wanted to bring me. It was before we were living with Grandma Smurf, when we lived with our dad,” you looked back at Lena. 

“Daddy sometimes talked about his dad, he said his name was Rain,” Lena shrugged. 

“Yea,” you smirked, “Ray.” Continuing the story, you lifted your legs off the ground and started to swing slightly. 

“So at this skate park, I really couldn’t skate, Grandma Smurf got me a scooter I’d leave at her house because it was the easiest thing to do,” that made Lena giggle. “But this one time, I took this kid’s skateboard because I really wanted to skate like Daddy and Uncle Pope.” 

“Were you able to?” Lena asked curiously. 

“No,” you laughed. “I fell on one of the ramps and the skateboard came right back into me, I had scrapes and cuts all over me.” 

Lena made a yikes face. 

“I know,” you raised your eyebrows. “But your daddy, he got so mad,” you took a deep inhale. 

“At you?” Lena raised her voice. 

“Yea, at me and the boy whose skateboard I took,” you put your feet back down on the ground and looked at Lena. “He yelled at me and then he yelled at the boy.” 

“What did Uncle Pope do?” Lena’s eyebrows frowned. 

“He took care of me, cleaned up my scratches and he bought a bike from the skate shop so he could give me a ride and I didn’t have to limp my scooter home,” you remembered Pope putting his skateboard in his backpack and you standing on the pegs of the bike as he rode the brand new thing home. 

“That’s nice,” Lena nodded. 

“Yea, I just want you to know that sometimes Daddy got mad because he cared, it wasn’t the best way for him to act, but adults make mistakes sometimes too.” You weren’t trying to excuse Baz’s behavior, but you also didn’t want this girl going her whole life remembering the shitty things about her father and that’s it. When she was older she’d get a better explanation of the whys and hows of her father but this was the best you could give her now. 

“Okay,” She looked up at you. “What about Uncle Pope?” 

“What about him?” You slowed your swings. 

“What do you want me to know about Uncle Pope?” She asked and you couldn’t help but flare your nostrils and smile. 

“I want you to know that Uncle Pope will always take care of us.” You didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Like he took care of you at the skatepark.” Lena didn’t phrase it as a question, just a statement. 

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“So both of my parents are dead?” The question came quickly and it hit you hard. You didn’t think how to respond first, your first thought was actually that Smurf had both of them killed and you felt that Blackwell anger bubble in you. You didn’t know if Smurf had Baz killed, but your intuition was telling you she did. You knew she had Cath killed, paid someone in her large pool of shitty contacts to do it. The more you thought about it, the more you actually didn’t care. Revenge wasn’t your thing, maybe if Lena wasn’t in the picture it would be, but getting even and proving a point couldn’t outweigh the responsibility of raising this little girl. She didn’t ask to be here, to be in this family. You owed it to her to show her a decent life. And a decent life didn’t include revenge. 

“Yea, they are. I’m sorry, kid.” You looked at her, searching her face for anything. 

“Where am I going to live?” Another question, this one you didn’t have an answer for. 

“I’m not sure about where yet, but I’m going to talk with some grown up people so you can live with me at my place or maybe I’ll move into your dad’s place,” you said. 

“I want to stay with you and Uncle Pope,” Lena’s voice got excited. 

Those words brought you back to a time when Deran had voiced those same words to you. Baz was running a job, Smurf had asked Deran to go with him and he fought against it. Begged and begged to stay with you and Pope at the house. It made sense, you were in the process of making rice krispy treats, showing them a semblance of attention they craved from their own mother. You asked him about it later, when he got back from helping out Baz, and he said that you and Pope didn’t make things feel worse. You had to wonder if that’s how Lena felt. 

 “Alright, well, I’ll let Uncle Pope know that. I think we can arrange for him to stay over tonight,” you weren’t going to promise forever because well, that was something you were battling with for years. A forever with Pope. 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:34PM

Dinner was scattered all over the table, dishes, food scraps, empty glasses of soda. You were in the kitchen, Lena standing on the island, dancing to the music that was blasting through the TV. Your hands were on her waist, a safety precaution in case she stumbled, you’d be able to catch her. Her laughs filled you with a joy that was unexplainable. Lena had picked a fun playlist and currently Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls. The concert music video was on the TV and you were quick to grab Lena and bring her to stand on the couch, you standing in the spot next to her. “Alright Lena-love, I’m gonna introduce you to The Spice Girls, this is like the ultimate girl-power group and we’re gonna dance just like them in this video,okay?” You started moving on the couch and she copied you, swaying around, you stepped down and turned to her, grabbing her hands and showing her the dance moves, you’d seen the movie a million times, they were somehow embedded into your brain. Lena’s smile was as wide as it could go, her laughs were loud and as the beat dropped you picked her up. Slam it to the left, If you're havin' a good time, Shake it to the right. You moved her and dipped her in both directions and then twirled her around. Now it was your turn to laugh, you were almost out of breath when you placed her back on the couch and pointed her attention to the TV and moved to the kitchen to grab some water. 

Pope’s eyes were on both of you until you moved, then they stayed on you. As you closed the fridge, and chugged half of a cold bottle of water, you looked at him and chuckled with a shake to your head. 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you have this much fun since we were kids,” he shrugged. 

“I loved the Spice Girls,” you took another sip. 

“Oh I know, you used to watch the movie when we were teenagers all the time,” his eyebrows raised. 

“Movie?!” Lena turned around, moving her hands like the Spice Girls were. 

You almost spit up your water but managed to keep it down. “We’ll watch it sometime soon, kid. Keep having fun.” 

Plopping down on the chair next to Pope at the breakfast bar, you still felt his eyes on you, but you kept yours on Lena. 

“Uncle Pope, come dance with me!” Lena called out as the song changed to ABBA. 

“You can’t say no to her, you know you can’t,” you smirked. 

While Pope got up, he didn’t do much but stand there and hold his hands out for Lena to use as a steadyment to jump up and down to, but you’d be lying if hearing Dancing Queen while Pope twirled Lena around wasn’t making your heart sing. 

After a few more songs, Lena had eventually passed out in Pope’s arms, his swaying back and forth was enough to lull her into a sleep even with the music still being so loud. 

You moved to the remote and lowered the volume, then rested your hand on the back of Lena, moving her long brown hair out of her face just to see how peaceful she was snoozing. 

“I think we did a good job keeping her mind off things tonight,” you whispered. 

Pope whispered back to you,“I’m gonna put her in her bed.” 

You followed him, standing in the doorway you saw how gently he placed her in her bed, the way he moved her hair and tucked the blanket over her. As he turned around, he froze for a minute when he saw you watching. All you did was bring one finger up to your lips and let out a silent shush. He tip-toed towards you, closing the door behind him while you just scaled the frame so you were on the opposite side of it. He was next to you, maybe 6 inches from you, the music was still at a low hum in the background, the lights were dim, the ocean waves could be heard from the open windows now, the breeze coming in from the same place. 

Pope gave you a nod. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve kind of been avoiding thinking about anything.” You shrugged, your hands resting on the frame behind you. 

“Do you want to think about it now?” Pope asked the question, his voice searching for an answer. 

“I don’t think I ever want to think about it,” you let out a scoff that was mixed with a laugh. But even as you said that, you didn’t really mean it. You wanted answers, you just weren’t sure how. “I don’t want Lucy anywhere near this fucking house, that I could tell you.” Your voice changed, anger laced in every word. 

“Lucy isn’t coming here,” Pope spoke so effortlessly. 

“She isn’t getting custody of Lena,” you spat that out just as fast. 

“She isn’t getting custody of Lena.” Pope repeated what you said to confirm it as well. 

“She wants to live with you and me,” you let your voice soften, a smile growing at your lips. 

“You and me?” Pope frowned. 

“You and me.” You confirmed, looking up from the ground your eyes met his and you saw how confused he was. “She asked me where she was going to live and I told her I wasn’t sure, maybe my place, maybe I’d move here. But I was going to talk to the grown ups to make sure she’d stay with me, and I think her exact response to that was I want to stay with you and Uncle Pope.” 

“I can stay here,” he shrugged like it was no big deal, “or your place if that’s where you want her,” he paused and caught your eyes, “if you’re okay with that.” 

“I’m okay with that,” you nodded. It was not the time to read into emotions, it really wasn’t. But you were looking to cling to anything that wasn’t sad right now, anything that wasn’t a reminder of your dead brother. And this? Pope living with you? You raising Lena together? Your mind clung to that, so did your heart. You felt butterflies, butterflies. On the day of your brother's death, and here you were feeling happy. 

If you want to play fucking house with Pope be my guest, but don’t do it with my kid.

Baz’s words echoed in your brain and you’d do anything to get them out. 

That’s why you reached your hand out and let your finger run down Pope’s arm. Instinctively, you looked down at him, his body was closer to you than his face, even if he was standing there almost motionless. His chest was moving up and down, and despite your eyes trailing down him, he stayed on your face, your eyes. 

You moved just an inch closer to him, your finger lightly brushing against the hem of his button up. His breath felt like a glass of water to your face, waking you up from everything. It gave you the edge you needed, instead of pulling away, you brought your hand up his forearm, brushing your fingers slightly up his exposed skin. His goosebumps gave you your own but you just used them as fuel to move closer to him, your chest against his now. He moved his head against yours and that’s when you felt his hands move up to grip your face. That was all the action you needed to move your lips to his. 

This was different from the first time you kissed Pope. This was slow, intimate, sensual. The first time was instinctual, physical, no romantic tension to be found. 

It’s why you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle right now, or maybe they did and he just held you up so strongly with his grip on you. 

You had waited years for this. After that one night years ago, where he took you on the floor of your house’s bedroom, it was all you could think about. How amazing it was but how amazing it could have been if you both really let your guards down. 

This would be the first time you’d both do it knowing what it meant for both of you.

You felt your entire body sing, the serotonin mixed with the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you get a little sloppy in how you guided his lips on yours, the dancing of your mouths became a bit more like a drunken makeout but you didn’t care. This was the closest to drunk you ever wanted to be ever again. Pope’s lips on yours and his hands gripping you like you belonged to him. Your hands went to his buttons, undoing a few of the bottom ones before trailing your hands up to the top ones and undoing a few of those. Your knuckles brushed against his adam's apple while you unbuttoned the top button. It sent a rush down your body and his. As you pulled away to gasp for air from the rush of it all, that’s when Pope shook his head and took a step back. 

“No, we can’t do this.” 

Then it all shattered. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered it so low you weren’t even sure if he heard you. 

“Us, we— you’re Baz’s sister, you’re not—we’re not supposed to do this.” He was getting caught on his words, stuck in his thoughts that weren’t able to come out as a string of conscious words at the moment. 

“We could have a normal life,” you whispered it again, you felt everything in you change. You weren’t able to pull any of this back in. The tension that had built up between you two for decades had been sliced wide open, everything was gushing, pooling at the ground, there was no more hiding anything. And because of that, you were going to say or do anything to get this, you’d beg, you’d let every fucking thought, every feeling, everything out in this moment. 

“What’s normal?” Pope’s voice cracked. 

“This!” You raised your voice now, not in a yell but in a plea of desperation. “Coming home, eating dinner, dancing in the fucking kitchen,putting Lena to bed, trying to stay quiet in the bedroom as you love me, sitting on the porch afterwards and watching the waves, driving for ice cream at 2AM, heating up milk on the stove if Lena wakes up, a normal fucking life, Pope.” You didn’t realize you had started to cry. 

“Nothing is normal, my family is the farthest thing from normal, we are the farthest thing from normal.” Pope’s voice was cracking, his own cries clawing at his throat. 

He had to be repeating some sentiment from Smurf, you saw how he looked at you, how he watched you, how he cared for you. 

“Smurf never wanted us together because she knew I’d take you away. She knew she’d lose you to me. She made sure you saw Catherine and then that Catherine saw Baz. Every good thing that came into our lives that you gravitated towards..you craved it—craved it Pope. You longed for it. And Smurf took that and ruined it for you. Ruining every chance to leave this fucked up life behind you.” You stepped closer to him, grabbing his hand in yours. “But I’m here, with that little girl and we’re begging you, come start a good life with us.” 

That must’ve done something because he just stood silent, his tears lightly falling, not sobbing just racking his brain around your words. His hands gripped around yours and you did the one thing you’d regret. You said it. It was the last card to play, although you weren’t playing a game at all, you were just hopeful that this would go how you’d always imagined it. He’d kiss you, he’d take you, he’d be yours. He’d say it back. 

Wrong. 

“I love you.” 

“I can’t love you how you want me to.” 

Everything stopped. Your ears did that thing, not a ringing, but just made everything silent around you. Desperation filled you. The despairing cry in your throat came out first, the sound of a broken heart, the sound of everything crumbling. Instead of taking it with stride, you did everything but drop to your knees in prayer.

“You already do!” You yelled, despite Lena sleeping in the room right next to you. “Do you not see it, Pope? You see me, you look for me in a room full of people, you know my favorite things, you stand up for me, you protect me, I don’t even say anything and you know what I’m thinking—what I’m feeling. For God sakes Pope, we’ve loved each other since we were kids!” 

“How can you love me?” He was genuinely asking. Just when you thought your heart couldn’t break more, he hit you with that line and it shattered into a million pieces. 

“I just do, it’s the easiest thing to me, it’s like breathing, I just do.” Your answer came just as easy as loving him was. 

“Love isn’t easy.” He argued that point with you. 

“Not in the way you think, the love you know is conditional. Based on performance, and loyalty, the love I have for you is unconditional, Pope. Always. No matter what. It always has been.” There it was, the plea, but you already knew how this ended. It’s how everything you loved ended. Your career, your brother, now Pope. You should’ve known better. 

 “Of all the things we have to be scared of and we choose love.” You laughed, almost in disbelief, taking a step back now, your hand dropping out of his. 

“I can’t do this Pope,” you shook your head and wiped your tears. “Baz picked and chose when he wanted to be there and I can’t have someone else pick and choose. Not anymore. If you can’t realize what’s in front of you then I can’t do this, I can’t be in this fucking limbo anymore just waiting and hoping for you to touch me, to kiss me, to love me. If you won’t choose me then I choose me.” 

“Don’t—don’t do that.” Pope’s mouth scrunched up, the frustration turning into anger. 

“Do you remember the night before you got arrested for the bank robbery? I had walked to the skatepark and you were the only one there, we sat on the top of the ramp and talked for a bit,” You wiped the tears again, you weren’t sure why, they just kept coming. “I asked you why can’t we do what makes us happy.” You let out a laugh. “However many years later and I’m asking myself the same question.” You ran your hand over the crown of your head. “You should go,” you shook your head. 

Pope said your name, his own pleading cry. 

You didn’t say anything else, just turned to retreat to the back of the house. There was a part of you, the last part of you that was holding onto the hope that Pope would follow you, he’d stop talking and let his actions show you his words meant nothing. But there was nothing. Just silence. You let your back slide down the back door as you brought your legs up to your chest and sat on the floor, hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, your eyes squeezed shut like you could will yourself into a sleep and wake up from this entire nightmare of a day. 

When you heard the front door open and close, you let the cry come out as audible. The crack in your throat as the final piece of you broke, you fell over on the ground, gripping your hand to your chest as the sobs released. It was a mix of everything. 

The loss of Pope. Everything you kept to yourself in fear of rejection, in fear of losing him now all out in the open with the one result you dreaded. While you spent years keeping everything at bay, the possibility was always there. It’s what made everything bearable. It was a possibility. But now you grieved that possibility. The idea of you sharing a home, having a life. You got a taste of it tonight, maybe that’s why it hurt this bad, like someone stuck their hand in your chest and twisted your heart before pulling it out and stepping on it. 

You sobbed on the floor, the cries aching in your body didn’t make you feel numb like you wished they did, they just made you feel everything. You wailed, it wasn’t loud, it was almost silent if anything. There couldn’t be a place lower than this. 

Dockie. 

You felt like you heard your brother. Your cries paused, your eyes opening and before you could think, you were standing up, moving through the house, using the walls and door frames as balance, your head spun from sobbing on the floor and getting up so fast. 

“Baz?!” Your swollen eyes searched for him, your tone hopeful like you knew he’d be there.  

As you stood in the empty living room, the grief punched you in the gut. There was no response, no answer to your cry. Just you. 

 The loss of your brother. There was no fixing your relationship, no closure, no last words. You’d never hear him call you Dockie again. The thing you hated since you were a kid, suddenly you held an ache in your soul for it. He’d never place a peck on the side of your face again, or remind you of something you tried so desperately to forget. He’d never yell at you, never argue with you, never make you feel small. Everything you couldn’t stand, and yet here you were missing it. Wishing for one last moment to experience it. Then there were the good things, when you’d laugh. He’d just catch your gaze from across the room and you’d burst into laughter over some inside joke–sibling same brain thought. When you’d finish a job and he’d jump on your back like he was a kid and scream like a maniac. The times he’d whisper to Lena to go tell you that you were her favorite Aunt. 

It was sudden, like a flip of a switch, you stopped crying. Your face went neutral, this time when you wiped your face it was the last of the tears you’d wipe away. Quickly, you moved to the bathroom, tossed water on your face and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Suddenly, with a dial, you called the last person you thought you’d call tonight. 

“Hey, do you wanna come over?” 

2009 - Moving In  

When you bought your house, you didn’t hire movers, you bamboozled your brother and the Cody boys to do all the heavy lifting. You didn’t even pack much from Smurf’s. You bought all new stuff, a new bed, a new dresser, a couch, but they were the ones building and moving things where you wanted. It had been a long day. At this point, Craig had broken a lamp, thrown a wrench out of frustration as he built your coffee table, and was now sitting on stool, eating the pizza you bought. Deran had unpacked about 15 boxes for you, asked you why you had certain things almost double that amount of times, and was currently walking in from grabbing a 24 pack of beer for your fridge. Baz had been the least helpful, he had brought in a few boxes, made some judgement slights as he walked through the place and then just leaned against one of your walls as kept a watchful eye. Currently, he was probably back at his place, far away from the unpacked mess of this house. Pope, well Pope was redoing the furniture Craig built and getting a jump start on other ones. He kept to himself, organizing things and just being a huge help. While you were in the kitchen with Craig and now Deran, Pope was still working, putting things together. 

“Doc, beer is the first thing you buy when you buy a house, it’s a luck thing, c’mon.” Deran lifted the case and pushed it into the bottom rack of the fridge. 

“24-pack?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“That’s enough for me and Deran, what will you drink?” Craig laughed, his hand wrapped around the slice of pizza. 

“I got her that boxed wine shit,” Deran laughed, his other hand showing the small box of red wine. 

“The place looks good,” Craig was looking around the house. “I just don’t get why you don’t wanna paint the outside, the turquoise is a choice.” 

“I didn’t realize you were an interior decorator,” you moved to grab a beer from the case Deran just bought, one for you and one for Craig since Deran had already grabbed for himself.

“I’m not,” he let out a laugh, “exterior,” he thought the joke was hilarious since he had been referring to the outside of your house. 

“I think the teal’s got charm, it’s very Doc.” Deran jumped up on the counter while you moved to continue to unpack the kitchen boxes. 

“Pope!” You yelled out to him, “Come eat!” Turning back to the other Cody’s you shook your head. “The exterior paint stays, you two go.” 

“Hey!” Craig lifted his hands up while Deran just laughed. 

“I love you both, thank you for helping me, finish eating, take beers with you to go and I’ll see you here tomorrow, I’m tired, after Pope eats I’m going to bed.” You explained why you were kicking them out. 

Pope didn’t come out by the time Deran and Craig left, it's why you found yourself arm crossed and leaning against the doorway. “I see that your hands work but your ears don’t.” 

“I wanted to finish putting your bed together so you had a place to sleep tonight,” he didn’t bother looking up from what he was doing. Tossing the mattress onto the bed frame he built, putting the sheets on for you. 

“I can make a bed, Pope.” You smiled and he paused to look at you. 

“You’re tired,” he saw the droop in your eyes immediately.

“I am, but that’s not why I’m telling you to stop, I want you to eat something, you’ve been non stop all day,” you were already out of the doorway and moving to the kitchen. You came back with the box of pizza, two beers and a roll of paper towels. “Eat.” 

You both sat crisscrossed on the floor, the pizza box open and now practically empty, the box wine had made its way in the room too, you were about 5 glasses in at this point, Pope had his empty beer glasses lined up next to him in an orderly line. 

“It’s a nice house,” Pope wasn’t looking around when he said it, just directly at you. 

“I hope to make it a home,” you pulled your legs up. 

“You will.” Pope nodded. 

“You just saying that?” You were looking around the room. 

“I don’t just say anything,” Pope said. “You always made your space feel…welcome,” he nodded as he searched for the word. 

“You saying that means more to me than you realize,” you finished the cup of wine. 

He nodded again, this time slow. “I realize.” 

There was a comfort in the air, the kind that only came from being in a space with someone that didn’t call for anything. There was no need to entertain, fill the silences, or be anything other than yourselves. You placed your cup down and then laid your back against the floor, your eyes staring up at the ceiling. 

“Do you remember that place Baz moved into when Smurf kicked him out of the place on The Strand?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. 

“The one that had the pipe that would leak on the couch.” Pope remembered it well. “I used to crash there when I’d fight with Smurf.” 

“I remember, because we’d share that nasty ass couch. You’d take the side that would drip.” You turned your head and realized he was now laying down next to you, your feet were in the opposite direction, but your heads were next to each other. 

“You said it had character,” Pope turned his head to look back at you. 

“I lied.” Your nostrils flared and you laughed. “Baz was one negative thought from jumping off a ledge, I had to keep him grounded.” 

“You keep all of us grounded.” Pope still kept his eyes on you. 

“Everyone but me,” you let out a soft exhale, your eyes training up to the ceiling. 

Pope didn’t say anything, but you felt the shift in the air, or maybe it was just in your head. You felt the heat in your face from the wine, the long day, the high of the fact you were finally out of Smurf’s. 

Turning your head back down from the ceiling and to Pope, you realized he hadn’t stopped looking at you. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Can’t help it,” he replied. “I should go,” he didn’t move when he said those words. “Call me if you need me to come over.” 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, you had a bunch of notifications from the hospital you worked at, but it was your week off so you ignored them. All you did was go to your contacts and hit Pope’s name and brought the phone to your ear. 

Pope frowned as his phone vibrated in his pocket, he answered it and brought it up to his ear, both of you still looking at each other. 

“Hey, do you wanna come over?” 

The joke landed, his smirk twitched up before he hung up. 

“It’s good to see you like this,” Pope nodded.

“Like what?”

“Happy,” he responded. 

“You want to see me happier?” You let the wine talk with that line. 

Pope didn’t say anything, just nodded. It was then that you leaned closer, you brought your lips on his. It was a quick peck at first, but when he leaned more into it you felt yourself let down every physical guard you had built up. You grabbed his shirt, bringing him closer to you, tossing your leg over his before you were on top of him, grinding your body onto his. He gripped your legs, moving you against him, his mouth opening as he gasped slightly. 

He sat up, bringing you up with him, his arms moving around your torso, pulling your shirt off as he did. You eagerly undid his pants just enough so that you could hold him in your hand, he pulled your shorts to the side and within seconds he was inside you. Both of you inhaling at the sensation. Your head fell back and you moaned in pleasure. He pumped in and out of you, his eyes never leaving you as he did. 

“Look at me,” he demanded in such a soft voice. 

Your eyes connected with his and it was like the feeling of him in you got ten times more sensitive. You felt a lump in the back of your throat, the emotion of years of pining coming to you right now. This wasn’t romantic, you couldn’t afford it to be. It was instinctual, it was safe. 

He pressed his mouth against your chest, his eyes still connected with yours. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled again and let your head fall back despite wanting to get lost in his eyes. 

As your head fell back, he moved to be on top of you, resting you gently against the floor of your room so he could pump into you. His arms were toned and your eyes caught the flex and release of his muscles as he gripped you and steadied himself on the floor. Your legs wrapped around him and your breath hitched with every movement in you. 

“Do I feel good?” you asked him because you knew his response would send you over the edge.

“You know how good you fucking feel,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You feel amazing.” 

“Oh my god,” you closed your eyes and felt yourself hit your climax, each movement sending you a little further over the edge than before. “Keep going,” you felt yourself coming undone, your voice thready and messy. 

Your screams echoed against the empty walls of your apartment, along with you begging for Pope not to stop. 

“Flip over,” he mumbled into your ear and you obliged without any hesitation or fight, he brought your hips in his hands and continued to bring you back against him, one hand moving down your front to catch your clit in his hand. 

“If you do that, I’m gonna cum again,” your voice was still breathy. 

“Good,” he said it without any emotion, not like he was proud, not like he was needy, just content with the idea of it. 

As he thrusted in you you felt the release again, Pope pumping you through it. As your body went a little loose, he carefully exited you and let you lay on your back. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows. 

“You’re tired,” he looked like he was going to get dressed. 

“You didn’t finish,” your brows furrowed. This had never happened to you before. 

“But you did, twice.” Even though he didn’t say it like he was proud, you could tell he was. 

“Cum in me,” you didn’t want this to get emotional, but you didn’t want this to end yet. “I get the shot, I can’t get pregnant.” 

“Are you–” Pope went to ask, not about you getting pregnant but about keeping this up.

“Yes, you feel good too, you know.” 

And with that, he reentered you and his hand gripped your neck to bring you down completely on him. He moved so deliberate and calculated, like he knew each spot he hit inside you in the order he did would unlock another climax out of you. You felt dizzy, your head was spinning in the best way possible, you never wanted this to end, but you couldn’t say that, wouldn’t say that. So you just enjoyed every second of him in you.

“Three times,” you whispered it since you felt the moan in the back of your throat. 

“Look at me,” his voice was low too, and you realized you were both about to release. 

He held you after, your head was against his chest and in all honestly you ached for this. Which is why you pulled your head up after a few minutes, any longer and you wouldn’t have been able to separate this from romance anymore. 

“We didn’t even test the bed you built,” you joked as you sat on your knees to collect your clothes. 

Pope didn’t say anything, just watched you. 

“Well I guess that was bound to happen, right?” You let the joke fall off your tongue as you grabbed your shirt. 

“Guess so,” Pope’s jaw tensed. 

“Not gonna be weird right?” You were trying to keep this together, make sure there were no fraying edges or fallout from this. 

“I’m not weird,” Pope looked at you now. 

That got you to chuckle. “You are, but I know you won’t be about this.” 

He twitched his mouth too. 

“I was serious before, call me if you need someone to come over. I know how lonely living alone can be.” Pope was fully dressed now. He didn’t mean for sex, he meant genuinely for company. You knew that without needing him to clarify.  

“Same goes for you. You can call me if you need to get out of the house, I know how lonely living in a house full of people can be.” You stood up and walked Pope to your front door. 

There were no more words exchanged between you, he just occasionally looked over his shoulder at you as he walked down your driveway, jacket in hand, swagger in his step. 

As you closed the door, you leaned against it and let yourself slide down so you were sitting on the ground, knees to your chest and hands in your scalp. 

You couldn’t let that happen again. Not unless it was for real. For good. 

Present Day - The Day After Baz’s Death - 1:34AM

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Travis’ voice was smug, almost grossly. 

He was pulling his shirt back on his body as he stepped out of the shower while you continued to wash yourself off from the ick, washing your hair and your body. 

When he came over, you didn’t let him talk, you grabbed him into the shower that sat outdoors, it was still private, fully walled and closed in from wandering eyes outside, but it was a surfer’s shower, the place you went to clean off from the beach. It didn’t feel right to bring him in the house. It didn’t feel right to have him here at all, but you needed to do something to feel anything but the grief in you. 

You didn’t let him look at you, he stood behind you the whole time, you told him to shut the fuck up a few times too. It wasn’t worth it. That thought went through your brain as it was happening but you did make the most of it. 

“Told you it’s better not to be alone,” He was drying his hair off while you rinsed the shampoo and soap off your body. 

“You should go,” they were the same words you spoke to Pope, that wasn’t lost on you, but as you grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body, you had no other desire right now than to be alone. 

Nothing made sense anymore. And you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. 

You walked into the house, Travis behind you still. As you walked into Baz’s room, you realized you had no clothes here. With a sigh, you opened his dresser, grabbed a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, it was a UCSD one that you bought him when you went to school. Tossing both on, you looked at Travis who was watching you from the bed. 

“Travis I’m serious, you should go, I have Lena tonight and I have to take her to school in the morning and I don’t really have it in me to explain anything else to her right now,” you moved to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of water from the faucet. 

“I can sleep on the couch, you shouldn’t be alone, I mean your brother was shot here probably like this time last night,” he followed you and those words haunted you as he stood behind you. 

The slam of the faucet wasn't enough of a context clue for him. So when you turned around, eyes closed, you took a large gulp from the cup and nodded. “Leave through the back door, the front door will wake Lena.” You moved to her bedroom, the one place you knew he wouldn’t follow you. As you shut the door, you stood at the opposite side of the sticker covered door and looked down at your niece who was sound asleep. At first you just squatted down and watched her, occasionally sipping from your water glass. After about an hour, where you successfully thought of nothing but her peaceful snores, you decided to crawl in the bed with her, you didn’t dare try to cuddle with her, afraid it’d wake her up, but being there with her, felt like the only thing you ever needed again. And from how tonight went, it was safe to say it was probably the only good thing you’d ever have again. 

2010 - The Day Lena Was Born 

Pacing in the hospital was not how you expected this night to go. You were in a dress, the only one you really owned at this point of your life. It was the one you wore to graduation, the one you wore for your residency interview at the hospital, and now it was the one you wore at your brother’s wedding. And apparently his daughter’s birth, too. 

The courthouse was packed with people, apparently it was the day for weddings, there had to be about 20 other couples in the municipal building along with Catherine and Baz. And that wasn’t including their witnesses which was almost double that number. Pope was next to you, his leg bouncing up and down a bit as he sat straight up on the wooden bench. Both of you were the witnesses for Baz and Cath, he had on a button up shirt, black jeans, his hands resting on his knees. You placed your hand on his. 

“What’s going on in your head?” 

“I’ve never been to a wedding before.” Pope stopped moving his leg. 

“Me either,” you thought about it. 

“What do we do?” Pope asked. 

“This is a pretty straightforward wedding, I think we just sit and watch them, maybe sign something.” You looked around, seeing multiple couples get ushered in at once. 

“I think we get brought in with a group, we’ll probably be able to see what we need to do,” you pointed to the next group being brought in. 

“Alright,” he nodded. 

“It’s kind of nice, celebrating love.” You looked at the other couples around, all happy, close together, laughing and cuddling. 

“It doesn’t feel like us,” Pope was taking in the couples now. The wide smiles, the connecting arms, the heads resting on shoulders. 

“What doesn’t?”

“All of it, the flowers, the pressed clothes, the happiness…” Pope trailed off, almost disgusted as he looked around. 

“You iron your clothes,” you pushed your lips in a straight line, you knew what Pope meant, but you couldn’t help but tease him. Sometimes you felt like you were the only one he let get away with it.

“You know what I mean,” Pope didn’t look at you but nodded his head as he slightly turned it at you. 

Leaning back against the wooden bench along the back wall of the courthouse, your eyes fell on the back of Pope. 

“You don’t believe in it? Marriage?” You asked. 

“It’s nice,” the way he said it was like he was convincing himself of the words he was saying. “For other people.” 

“But not for you?” You didn’t mean to hammer him with questions, you were just curious what was going on in his brain. 

Pope didn’t answer, his eyes just fell down to your hands that were fidgeting in your lap. He rarely saw you dressed like this, he rarely saw you fidget either. 

“I believe in it for other people, too.” You spoke as you looked down at your hands. “But for people like us, it’s just out of place. But the notion is nice right? A partner who chooses you day in and day out, sees your flaws and still loves you, someone to go through life with.” 

“Sure, it’s a nice notion.” Pope agreed. 

“All we have are moments. Happiness… people say it’s a state of mind but in reality it’s just little moments in time that we pocket for later. For when we’re sad.” You knew it sounded crazy. 

Pope looked over at Baz and Cath, they were standing at the registrar’s desk, Baz had just leaned over and whispered in her ear, saying something that made her laugh. 

It was then that they called your group number, a few other people stood up too. Baz and Cath had already moved to the door, Pope stood up and straightened his collar and pressed down his shirt. You followed his movements and pressed the skirt of your dress down as you stood. 

“You ready?” You moved your arm to him so he could link his with yours. 

“For the wedding?” He placed his arm in a way so you had to link yours to his. 

“For the moment,” you whispered and playful brought him over to the line. 

The wedding was quick, but as you pulled up to the restaurant that they were holding their reception dinner at, Cath’s water broke before she even made it 5 steps in the parking lot. 

That’s how you ended up pacing in the hospital now. 

“You should sit down,” Pope was clearly anxious. 

You plopped down next to him, your breath exhaling dramatically. 

“I don’t like hospitals,” you said it through frustrated breath. 

That got Pope to look at you with a twisted face. 

“I don’t like waiting in hospitals, working them is different, I’m in control,” you explained, your leg shaking. 

“You want a coffee or something?” He thought of different ways to give you something to do. 

That earned him the same face he had recently made to you. 

“Decaf,” he corrected himself. 

“No, I’m fine. I just need to wait.” You sighed again. 

In a little over 15 minutes, you rested your head on Pope’s shoulder, your arms linked in his and your snores quietly brushed against his collar bones over his shirt. He didn’t move, he stayed frozen so as to not wake you up, but he’d occasionally try and sneak a glance at you. If not directly down at you then at the reflection in the glass window in front of him. 

It reminded him of all the couples he’d seen at the courthouse not that long ago. The ones that were happy. That didn’t feel like you guys. But suddenly held a pretty close resemblance to you. 

He stayed that way for 2 hours until Baz came out in the blue gown and gloves. “It’s a girl,” he whispered so he didn’t wake you up. “Do you want to meet her?” Baz asked Pope. His eyes immediately fluttered to you. 

“Yea, let me wake her up and we’ll meet you down in the nursery,” Pope nodded and tapped Baz’s side. 

“Hey,” Pope whispered to you. “Hey, hey,” a couple more times along with a shake and you were waking up. “It’s a girl, Baz said we can go meet her.” 

“A girl? Oh good, we need a girl.” You spoke through a raspy voice. 

“We need a girl?” Pope questioned your words. 

“We always need a girl, we’re outnumbered by you Cody boys.” You smiled, and brought Pope up with your arm still interlocked with his. 

You walked that way with him until you got to the nursery. Baz had a baby girl in his arms and you could have cried at the sight of it. “And this Lena, is your Auntie Dockie and your Uncle Pope,” Baz lifted his arm up so that the baby was easier for you to see. 

“Oh my gosh, she’s so beautiful,” you couldn’t take your eyes off her. “How’s Cath?” 

“She’s good, she’s tired,” Baz kept his eyes on Lena. “You wanna hold her?” Baz looked at you. 

All you did was nod, as he placed her in your arms, you felt your entire body shift. Those moments you mentioned earlier? The ones of happiness that you hold onto forever, this would be one of those moments for you. 

“Lena-love,” you cooed, today was a day that started out celebrating love and it only felt right to commemorate it with the love of someone that would bring you joy forever. “She’s perfect,” your voice cracked. 

Pope couldn’t take his eyes off you, if he thought seeing those couples earlier panged in his heart, this was even stronger. Seeing you hold a baby, a baby that you so clearly loved, that he so clearly loved and he only knew her for a few seconds. 

“You’re going to be so loved,” you cooed again. 

Baz had moved to sit down in the chair in the nursery, his eyes heavy as he watched his baby sister hold his baby. Pope stood close to you, looking over your shoulder at Lena. 

The baby bubbled her mouth, her saliva dripping from her mouth made you smile. “This is the moment, Pope.” You spoke slowly to him while keeping your eyes on Lena. “This is the moment we pocket.” 

Pope nodded, even though you didn’t see it. In his head, though, he already pocketed a lot of moments from today. This was just the cherry on top. 

Lena felt like the only thing you ever needed. The only thing either of you ever needed. 

Present Day - The Day After Baz’s Death - 6:03AM

Pope didn’t bother knocking, he used his key to let himself in through Baz’s front door. It was still early, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake, that’s why he brought breakfast and coffee, knowing there probably wasn’t anything of note in Baz’s fridge. 

To his surprise, that fridge was currently being raided by who he immediately could tell was a cop. It didn’t take long for it to click in his head that it was Travis Callahan. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh shit, hey Pope.” The man turned around startled. “Didn’t they tell you to never scare a cop,” he laughed as he placed the orange juice down on the table, opening the carton and not bothering to get a glass just sipping direct from the open spout. 

Pope didn’t laugh, just glared in disgust. “No.” 

“Oh nice, you brought breakfast,” Travis pointed to the brown bag in Pope’s hand. 

“For Doc and Lena.” Pope clarified.

“Oh yea, I think they’re still asleep,” Travis pointed to Lena’s room. 

“You slept here?” The question fired off rapidly from Pope.

“On the couch, I don’t think she wanted to be alone,” the man had turned to grab one of the boxes of cereal on the counter. 

“The couch?” Pope didn’t understand. 

“Yea, I think Doc’s in Lena’s room. Haven’t checked. But I didn’t check the bedroom either.” Travis wasn’t looking at Pope anymore.

Pope didn’t give this conversation any more attention, he just walked down the hall to the back bedroom where he saw the bed was untouched, still made and unslept in. As he turned around he saw the discarded clothes that trailed from the bathroom to the outdoor shower and that told him all he needed to know. With a few more steps, he was in Lena’s room. Immediately seeing her body cuddled into yours as both of you let out heavy breaths that were bordering snores. 

He stared at you for a few minutes, wishing that he could have just lived in that moment forever, nothing else. No memories of before and no idea of memories to come, just both you and Lena at peace. 

But he knew it couldn’t last, he leaned over and placed his hand on your shoulder to shake you awake. You startled, grabbing his forearm harshly, ready to fight, but when you weren’t met with force, you loosened your grip. 

“Scared the hell out of me.” You groggily cleaned your eyes and carefully climbed over Lena. Pope recognized your clothes, he hated to admit a slight feeling of relief that they didn’t belong to the asshole in the kitchen. It made whatever happened between you and the cop feel calculated and not special.  “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought breakfast,” Pope responded.

“I’m gonna let her sleep in a little bit, I don’t think she should go to school today, maybe in a couple days.” You were pointing towards her other door, the one littered in stickers that would open into the living room and kitchen versus the hallway. Pope walked out first, his eyes connecting with Officer Dickhead again as he waited for you to realize. 

“Um, look about last night,” you started to say when you heard Travis’s voice clear. 

“Yea about it,” he had the orange juice carton gripped in his hand again. 

Your head shot over to him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I didn’t think you should be alone, who knows who killed your brother, and if they’d come back here and try and take you or Lena out next.” It was so disturbing how he’d just blurt things out without thought.

“Travis, I told you to leave last night.” You didn’t care about his reasoning for being here.

“Relax, I slept on the couch, I recorded Dexter’s Lab this morning too while I was watching it, for Lena.” He pointed to the TV. 

“You hear that? He recorded a cartoon for her.” Pope was getting some twisted form of enjoyment out of this.  

“Travis, get out.” You moved toward him now, grabbing the orange juice for him forcefully. 

“Hey come on, I had fun last night, don’t be like this.” He lifted his arms up. 

“Travis, leave.” You threw the carton into the sink, your way of trying to prove you weren’t in the mood for his grovelling.

“Come on, Dockie.” He pleased.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” It took everything in you not to punch his smug face. “Look, let’s not make this more than what it is, please just leave.” You took a breath trying to remain as calm as you could. 

Pope just stood there watching, waiting for it to escalate so he could intervene but knowing based on the three of yours conversation yesterday he would let you give him the okay to step in. 

“Alright, I’ll call you later.” Travis was leaving and while you wanted to tell him not to bother, you were ultimately winning since he was leaving. 

As you locked the door behind him, you turned back to the kitchen and started straightening up. Tossing the dry cereal Officer Asshole poured into the garbage, along with the orange juice. Wiping down the counters, organizing the area. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked Pope as you moved around the kitchen. 

“You told me that Lena wanted to stay with both of us,” Pope answered. The sentence didn’t have a lot of context. But it clicked in your head he was trying to keep the appearance that he stayed over for Lena.

“We should talk about how we’re going to do this, after last night I don’t know if you sleeping here or my place makes sense. I don’t want to confuse her,” that wasn’t what you meant, you didn’t want to confuse you. 

“Yea, we can figure it out.” Pope nodded, being entirely too gracious about everything right now. 

“I’ve run out of ways to fix this, Pope.” You slammed your hands on the tiled breakfast bar. 

“Fix what? What is there to fix?” Pope questioned. 

“Us!” Your voice hitched. 

“What about us?” Pope stepped closer, the counter between both of you. His question was probably misunderstood by you but the fact he couldn’t pick up on the fact that yours and his relationship just completely altered last night did something to your feelings. 

“You know what, just forget it.” You changed your tone and shook your head. 

“Forget what?” Another question you probably misunderstood but this one you couldn’t hide your reaction. 

“Jesus Christ, the questions, the questions!” You raised your hands. “Forget everything! Forget everything that happened we’ll just go back to whatever the fuck it was before this. You stare, I say nothing. Forget I said anything.” You gave him the answer you thought he wanted. 

“You said you loved me.” Pope didn’t change his tone. 

“What do you want?” Your voice practically shrieked. “You say you can’t love me the way I want, and now you can’t forget what I said, fine then here hold this line, I thought I loved you but I don’t. I don’t love you. I hate you. I hate what you fucking do to me. I hate what you make me feel because it's pointless. It's useless. It’s for nothing. And it’s not even your fault, this was my fate from the beginning. Baz wasn’t supposed to make it through Ray’s beatings. He was supposed to die a lot earlier, I was always meant to be alone. This—this is just fate catching up to me. Loneliness is seeped into my fucking DNA, it’s imprinted into my genetic fucking code. I’ll raise Lena and she’ll come drop off boxed fucking wine for me and cat food while I sit on a fucking couch too drunk off my ass to care. Baz gets death while I get to have everything in me die inside while I’m still alive.” 

The words echoed in you, Pope’s eyes gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You stood there, staring at him. Both of you staying silent, and yet it got too loud for you. You didn’t bother staying in the kitchen, you barreled past him and plopped down on the steps on the front porch. As you did, you were reminded of the last time you talked to your brother. 

2017 - 2 Days Before Baz’s Death

Sometimes, sitting alone at your place got loud in a really quiet way. It’d make you open the windows, fill the nothingness with something. White noise, the sounds of people laughing outside as they walked by, the waves, maybe a dog barking or a kid laughing. Anything but silence. Sometimes that wasn’t enough, you’d sit on your back porch, which arguably made it worse. It was fully fenced, you couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t hear much either. Something so many people would kill for and the irony was that it was killing you. That’d leave you to talk a walk along The Strand. You’d bring a pack of cigarettes, maybe a glass of wine if you knew you’d be out for a while. Tonight, the walk was long, you ended up walking down to Baz’s. You weren’t sure if the looks you got as you strolled were because your face was beaten to shit, bruised and battered but healing from getting attacked by Javi and his crew a little over a week ago, or because you had a full glass of wine in your hand. The thing with recovering from the injuries you had, it started to look a lot worse before it looked better. Hence the alcohol. 

Baz’s front porch was arguably one of your favorite places. It had everything. The noise, the people, the waves. You plopped down on the steps, glass now pretty empty as you did. You mindlessly played with the strings of your hoodie as you watched it all, picking up pieces of conversations of the people that passed. 

Someone talking about their weekend dinner plans, a group of girls talking about one of their exes, another group singing a song together, a group of guys betting on some sports thing on their phone. 

You heard the door open behind you but didn’t bother looking, you knew it’d be someone familiar. 

As you felt someone sit down next to you, you then heard the sound of your wine glass being filled. Looking up, Baz had plopped down next to you, the UCSD hoodie you gave him on and a glass of red wine tipped as he poured the remainder of it into your glass. Following that, he brought his beer towards the rim of your glass and clinked them together. 

At the sound you both pulled away and brought the glasses up to sip from. 

The two of you sat there, people watching. 

Some conversations were tough, a woman on the phone with her sister talking about hospice care for their mother, a couple who had been arguing about something a lot bigger than both of them, two young siblings calling each other stupid. But then there were the others, the parents who pulled those same siblings apart and made them apologize immediately. The siblings were skipping down the sidewalk in seconds like nothing happened. Then there was the couple who had just gotten engaged, an older gentleman who was linked arm and arm with someone close to his age and said he had a really good first date with her. 

“You ever think about what life should’ve been?” Baz’s voice cut through all of it. 

You didn’t answer right away, you thought about his question for a bit. 

“I do,” you nodded, taking a sip of the wine. “Do you?” 

“Never used to, I think I was so used to just trying to survive the day.” He let out a sigh. 

“But now?” Your eyes jumped over to him. 

“I think life should’ve been a lot different.” He smirked. 

“I think if life had it’s way we’d be rotting in a double wide right now,” you scoffed. 

“I should’ve gotten us out earlier.” Baz had never been this sentimental before and it made you weary. 

“Why are you saying this?” The frown on your face mixed with you straightening your back was enough to show Baz you were concerned. 

“Relax, I’m not jumping off any buildings,” he let out a chuckle. “I just mean, I should have found a different way for us, bringing us to Smurf’s, it was the worst thing I could have done.” 

“We were kids Baz, anything was better than getting beaten to pulp,” you tried to brush him off. 

“She’s been keeping money from us,” Baz admitted. 

“From you,” you corrected him. “I get my percentage and keep it pushing.” It was true, maybe that was the only benefit of your deal with Smurf, you didn’t feel like there was anything being hidden, you had a deal that worked and stuck with it. 

“I’m leaving for Mexico, with Lena and Lucy.” There was the real thing he had been trying to get at this whole time. 

“To see what some of that should’ve been life has for you?” You let your eyes train back on the horizon. 

“Something like that,” he shrugged, finishing his beer now. “I’m sorry about the hospital job.” 

Those were words that you never expected to hear from your brother, so when your head snapped to see if he was just being a dick, your eyes went wide to be met with a beyond serious Baz. 

His eyes were already on you when he spoke the apology, they were low, almost disappointed in himself. 

“Smurf wanted to bring you in, but I told her no, that I didn’t want to fuck up what you had. I wasn’t supposed to use your badge. I was in the breakroom, I was talking to that nurse that always talks about her parakeets and thought I was grabbing her badge but I guess you left your jacket in there.” 

“I gave her my sweatshirt that morning and didn’t realize I didn’t take off my ID, I was charting for the rest of the day so I never noticed,” you gave him context.

“By the time I realized it was yours, it was too late,” Baz was still looking at you. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your should’ve been.” 

You felt your throat get tense, your eyes got heavy as well. “My should’ve been was always fucked.” 

“Come to Mexico with us,” Baz asked like he had been waiting for the right time for the opportunity to ask you to come up. 

With a deep sigh, a little laugh as well, you looked back at the horizon. “I—I don’t know.” 

“You could get your license down there, I looked it up. Lena would be happy to have you close. You could meet someone, get married, have a kid,” he shrugged. 

“You got it all figured out, huh?” You held back a smile as you looked back at him. It was incredibly nice that he looked into it, that he thought about you. But there was a lot holding you back from that too. Well, maybe not a lot. But one thing that you held onto, that always felt like a possibility. 

“Maybe Pope would move down after he’s off probation,” Baz could read your mind sometimes. 

“I don’t know if Pope is apart of my should’ve been,” you answered. 

Baz let out a light laugh. “Pope is the biggest should’ve been in your life next to being a doctor.” 

You just gave him a look. 

“You and him are written in the stars. He doesn’t just watch you, Dockie. He looks for you. When you walk into a room I feel like I can hear his heart practically jump through his skin.” Baz was now looking out at the horizon. “And you well, you’ve pined after him for years.”

You stayed silent, not really sure what to say to that. 

“You two are so different and yet so fucking similar.” He laughed. “If you don’t want to come to Mexico, I get it. But either way, you should leave. Go do something for you for once.” 

You handed him your now empty wine glass and stood up, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt up over your head. “Thanks for the wine.” 

“Anytime.” He stayed sitting on the stairs. 

You leaned down, placing a quick peck on his temple, it was usually what he did to you, and the action made him audibly laugh. 

Turning, you skipped down the steps, opened the gate and took a few steps down the sidewalk before turning around and looking at him. 

“I’ll think about Mexico,” you nodded. “I just need some time to think about my should’ve been.” 

Baz nodded. 

“And thanks, for the apology,” you waved your hand awkwardly. 

“Love you, Dockie.” Baz was standing up to go back inside his house. 

Nodding, you continued to take a few steps, this time backwards. “Love you too, big brother.” 

That was the last conversation you had with Baz. He was shot two days later.

 Present Day - The Day After Baz’s Death - 6:45AM

It got too loud inside and all you and Pope were doing was staring at each other for minutes. But the windows had been closed, the sliding door was latched and locked, most of the curtains were pulled down too, and those caught a lot of the noise pollution too. It was so silent that your head felt like it was in the middle of a 500 person crowd. Without a second thought, you made a run for the front door. Plopping down on the steps of the porch, you ran your hands over your face. Every thought, every mocking voice you had on repeat in your head suddenly disappeared. The waves filled the background, it was morning so The Strand was busy. There were surfers talking about their morning waves. Kids with backpacks making their way to school, you were able to pick up a few pieces of gossip. Hailey was sleeping with Mike, Ben had gotten a decent weed plug. There was the neighbor who talked to her daffodils. All of it brought you a comfort that you had been craving. 

You heard the footsteps before hearing the door. You knew his steps better than anyones. He was next to you in a matter of seconds, a lukewarm cup of coffee in his hand that he was handing over as he sat down next to you. 

“You ever think about what life should’ve been?” The question rolled off your tongue before you even took a sip. 

Pope didn’t answer. 

“I do. Well, I have been. Lately.” You answered it in hopes Pope would eventually give you his answer. 

“I used to imagine what life could’ve been like for us. To help me sleep.” Pope was looking down at his hands. 

“For you and Julia?” You lifted your head to look over at him. 

“For me and Julia, for you and Baz, for Deran and Craig, for you and me,” Pope answered. 

“Could’ve and should’ve are different.” You were trying to make a point. 

“Yeah,” he let that one word hang in the air a bit before continuing, “they’re different.” He rubbed the back of his knuckles like he was trying to erase something only he could see. 

You waited for more, knowing it was highly unlikely he’d give that to you. But to your shock, he looked up from his hands, not exactly at you, but past you. Like he was watching the past crawl back onto this porch with you. 

“But it should’ve been different.” 

“It can be different.” There you were again. Pleading with him. While he was dredging up the past you were pulling for your future.

“If there’s a version of our lives where we got away from this, from Smurf… I don’t think I ever made it there. Not even in my head.” Pope’s eyes were filled with tears and suddenly you got it. 

He was punishing himself. 

You were collateral damage in that. Or maybe, you made yourself collateral damage. 

“In my head, our should’ve been exists. It’s here, in front of us–a reality now. A real possibility. And when you’re ready I’ll be here,” your waterline pooled with water, tears didn’t fall but they were close to it. 

Pope kept quiet, the silence stretching between you two. It was weighted, similar to the tension that built between you both for years, except that was weighted in what could’ve been. This? This was weighted in what should’ve been. 

Your words hurt more than they healed. He nodded almost subtly, like he wasn’t agreeing or disagreeing with you, just acknowledging that he heard you. Then, he stood up, his body casting a shadow over you, he moved quickly, like he knew it was wrong in his head but this was something he needed to do. He placed a kiss on the left side of your face, a quick peck but you felt the linger of it even as he pulled away. 

And despite the quick movement of that, as he walked away he did that slowly, gradually, as if not to crack the fragile thing you had hanging between you still. 

He got to the opposite side of the gate before pausing and looking just slightly over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know how to live in that version.” He awkwardly moved his neck, like the next words were hard for him to admit to. “But I wish I did.”

Dividers by @realitycanbewhateveridesire ♥️ 🍺 Animal Kingdom Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @princesssunderworld  (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[writesick-lover]

𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x fem!reader

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

summary: Even a regular evening at Hard Deck can change Bob’s world completely once he meets the oh-so familiar pair of eyes and the sweetest smile. The whole world sets into motion, love pulling him in like a force of nature - and physics.

a/n: Hi everyone! First and foremost, thank you so so much for the love and support you gave to the lastest fic, it was my biggest motivation to keep going! I’m finally pass the writer’s block I suffered due to a month full of studying and exams - but it was all worth the suffering in the end haha :D So here’s the winner of our poll! Hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I did, writing for our sweetheart Bob once again!!! Enjoy ;*

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"Earth to Bobbie," Jake's voice cut through the loud noise of Hard Deck, taking Bob out of his trance.

It was an evening like any other, Bob sipping his beer in the corner of Hard Deck, watching his friends play a round of pool before it was his turn. He let his eyes wander across the place, observing the bar ready to explode with people, who only kept coming in. There was music blasting from the nearby jukebox, the chatter falling into the perfect sync and although Bob liked his peace in quiet, after all these evenings, Hard Deck felt like home.

That was until a very loud group started cheering nearby, Bob's eyes suddenly getting stuck on the company of people near the darts. Some would say it is a coincidence, others that it is faith. But once Bob decided to watch those strangers, his evening was to change forever - he was to found out one wasn’t any stranger to him.

A familiar face appeared between the movement of the bodies, a face he didn't expect to see ever, and of all the places definitely not in Hard Deck.

His mouth went agape at first. It took him a few seconds to fully comprehend that you were real. Really there, standing just a few feet away from him. Then he dived into the chaos of questions popping up in his mind, the most important being - what should he do?

So Bob was determined to do what he knew the best. Observe.

He stole secret glances at you every now-and-then, stealthy, quickly looking away anytime you glanced his way. But then you got the darts into your hands and Bob found himself hypnotized, watching you giggle as you missed or hit the target, despite getting the smallest amount of points possible.

It was only Hangman's firm grip on his shoulder that brought him back to the reality he was in, staring too long at someone across the whole place.

"Bob, you with us, buddy?"

Bob shot his head towards Hangman, gulping. His face heated up immediately, suddenly becoming fully self-aware of what he was doing until now. He quickly looked away, plastering on a polite smile. He very much hoped Jake Seresin would leave it be. But then it wouldn't be Jake Seresin.

"Who is that girl you're so obviously checking out, huh?" Jake’s shit-eating grin glowed - with obviously no plan on leaving Robert alone. Bob let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head again.

"She's my friend from high school," he explained, falling silent again as he looked back at the group, proving to himself once more that you were real and not just his imagination playing tricks so far.

He hadn’t seen you in ages, but he would have recognized you anywhere. You didn't change at all, that bright smile of yours lighting up the room just like all those years ago. Your beauty forever unchanging.

Suddenly, Bob felt like that little kid sitting behind his desk, listening to the teacher in front of him faintly as his eyes were glued to the hair in front of him. He jumped slightly, trying not to seem caught red-handed, as the girl unexpectedly turned around, her eyes boring into his.

"Do you know the answer to the third question?" she whispered quietly, her gaze unwavering.

"Yeah, it's the third one. You just have to use Newton's first law of motion," Bob whispered back, earning a bright smile, from his classmate. "Thanks, B. You're a genius," she spoke softly before turning away.

Bob sighed, his heart finally slowing down before he was startled once more, again by the motion in front of him.

"Tutoring again at 4? In the library? I really need to get to know Newton or I won't get through this year,"

"Yeah," Bob broke a small smile, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We can get to know him,”

You laughed quietly before turning back, Bob unable to contain the smile on his lips until lunch.

"My man, you're out of it," Jake commented, letting go of Bob's shoulder. "If she's your friend, then you should go talk to her," he stated, crossing his arms.

"I couldn't possibly-" Bob snorted, "I haven't seen her in years!" He shook his head.

"I doubt she even remembers me," Bob looked towards the darts, his eyes landing on you again. But this time you were staring back, the intense look a little too familiar. And Bob's heart skipped a few more than just one beat.

He watched as you whispered something to your friends before leaving the spot, slowly making your way through the crowd. He gulped, looking away in search of something more interesting than you (which he found impossible) until you stood right in front of him, your presence now completely demanding his attention.

"Bob? Bob Floyd? Is that you?" you asked, your voice a little higher, curiosity crawling through it as your eyes widened.

"Hi, yeah, that's me," Bob smiled, his eyes still a little avoidant.

"I'm Y/n. Remember me? From high school?"

"How could I forget," he nodded with a small smile, pushing his glasses up once they slid on the tip of his nose.

"Oh my god, B, how are you?" you opened your arms, immediately pulling Bob into a tight hug.

"I'm good and you?" Bob chuckled into your hair, his arms slowly following your silhouette before finding their place on your back. You squeezed him slightly before a loud "ahem" came from the people next to you.

You both pulled back.

"Do you mind?" Hangman cleared his throat once more, his raised eyebrow directed at Bob.

"Oh," Bob grounded himself, clearing his throat before another bright smile painted his face. "Y/n, these are my friends," he pointed at the Dagger Squad, all letting out a ‘hello’ in unison.

"This is my friend Y/n, from high-school" he then pointed at you. "Nice to meet you all," you waved at them, earning a few smiles back.

You turned back to Bob, your eyes running from his matured face down to the laces of his large shoes. "You've grown so much," You checked him out, the muscles shaping his fabric also not escaping your attention, just as his height and the way his hair was now cut short. If it weren't for those warm brown eyes you knew so well, you probably wouldn't recognize him.

"I could say the same about you," Bob responded, his eyes finding the wooden floor as the well-known redness decorated his cheek.

A bunch of voices broke out, calling your name. You sighed.

"Guess that's my cue," your lips tightened into a line before you pulled Bob into one more hug.

"But it's so great to see you! I miss you a lot, B," you laughed into his shoulder, pulling back, your hand lingering on his arms. "Bet my semesters in uni would have been easier with you by my side," you confessed. “You were always the smartest,”

"No, no,” Bob blushed, scraching his temple.

”I'm sure you did just fine," his eyes found yours, "you always did,"

You could only sigh, not leaving his gaze. Your spark faltered for a second.

Until you heard another wave of shouts from behind you.

"See you around, okay?" was the last thing you said, pushing yourself on your toes and planting a quick peck on his cheek before you let go, briefly waving to his group and making your way towards the bar and to your friends.

"Okay," Bob repeated softly, turning to his friends and meeting their amused faces. "What?" he asked, clueless.

"You've grown so much, Bobbie," Hangman started, his voice climbing two octaves higher. "I miss you a lot, B," Rooster joined the mocking teasingly, Bob left only with a sigh of resignation.

"She's a friend," he explained again, but Phoenix chimed in, cutting him off before he could say any more nonsense.

"And friends hug each other like that - no judgment, I’m sure she knows how to hug a friend," the irony dripped from her tongue as a teasing smirk appeared on her face.

"I- We haven't seen each other for a while," Bob turned his head towards the bar longingly, falling silent.

"Bobbie, you're staring again," Jake teased. "It's like she hung your fucking galaxy,"

"Maybe you should go ask her on a date," Rooster tapped Bob's back in encouragement. "I mean, you both couldn't be more obvious,"

"On a-What?" Bob's head snapped towards him. "I don't think it's like that- I mean she-"

"Look man, if she isn't flirting with you, then I am an eight-eyed slug. Which I'm not," Jake crossed his arms.

"I-" Bob's words got stuck in his throat once he looked towards the bar again, meeting your gaze as you turned towards him, waving at him from the bar before you spun back to your friends with a sweet smile playing on your lips.

His heartbeat rose to the skies.

He was doomed.

"In human language, we call that a sign," Jake raised his chin, pointing towards the bar, "Go on, Bobbie, get her,"

"Okay," the squad observed Bob as he wandered towards the bar, carefully squeezing through the moving sea of bodies. "They grow up so fast," Hangman leaned towards Rooster, earning a loud chuckle.

"Hey, you," Bob tapped your shoulder lightly. "Hey, yourself," you said, your smile brightening. "I was thinking… Wouldn't you like to catch up? You know, about how you're doing and-"

"I would love to," you cut him off, standing up right when Bob extended his hand, accidentally brushing past your waist. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to," Bob started apologizing immediately but you hushed him. "That's okay, B. I don't mind," you smiled and Bob's breath hitched.

"Oh," was the only thing he could say when you took his hand, already dragging him towards the beach.

"How does it go in the navy?" you asked into the warm night, breaking the silence only followed by the sounds of the ocean. You were sitting on the deckchairs at the beach, the warm lights from Hard Deck falling on the backs of your heads as you watched the waves in the dark.

"Oh, you remember that?" Bob was taken aback by your question, correcting his glasses again.

"How could I not? You were such a nerd when it came to fighter planes," you sighed in content, glancing back at the porch of Hard Deck. "I bet that's your squad. I've never seen so many jacked people in one place," you giggled as Bob smiled sheepishly. "And besides, there's an airbase nearby," you shrugged.

"Wow," Bob bobbed his head in acknowledgement, "See? You're just fine on your own. Not everyone can connect the dots like that,"

"What do you mean?" you asked right away, noticing the widening smile on Robert's face. "This one time there was this group of people from out of town," he started and you leaned in, curious. "I was collecting empty cups from the squad, ready to go refill them, when this one man stopped me,"

"Oh god," you chimed in and Bob only gave you a validating look before continuing.

"And he stuffed my hands with another 7 cups, quickly let out a thank you and shoved 10 dollars into my pocket," Bob finished, proud once your laugh pierced the air. "You're kidding! What did you do?"

"I bought them beers - for those ten dollars," he only shrugged as if that wasn’t significant in the story. "Wow," now it was your turn to sigh. "You're still a walking angel, after all those years,"

"I guess anyone would do that," Bob only shook his head, taking a deep breath after another minute of silence. "Now it's my turn," You straightened as he looked up at you softly, lost in thought for a moment.

"Did you open the art gallery, like you always wanted?" he grinned when you chuckled, his heart skipping another pair of beats.

"Ah, I wish. I'm stuck in an office job right now," your posture faltered and so did Bob's lips. He couldn't believe it. "I still paint from time to time though, don't worry" you winked at him.

"It wouldn't be you if you didn't," Bob let out a breath of relief, his whole body relaxing in the moment and something in you moved.

"You know, I sometimes think about your physics tutoring," you confessed, shocking Bob once again. "Especially Newton's third law of motion,"

"You still remember that? You hated physics," Bob's eyes widened, shaking his head, unsure where all this was heading. "You even fell asleep during the tutoring. Twice,"

You laughed, the memory so vivid in your head.

"But now I know he was right," your soft voice made Bob freeze. "When one object exerts a force on another," you slowly leaned in, your eyes falling to his lips. "The other object should exert the same force back on the first object, right?"

"So you were listening after all," Bob spoke and for a moment you looked up, only to catch his gaze coming up to yours as well.

"So you know what I mean?" you asked, your voice slightly shaking.

Bob fell silent for a while, to the point where you thought he wouldn't say anything.

Then he cleared his throat.

"So can I… kiss you?" Bob rasped, his gaze now steady. Like you were the target.

The tips of your noses touched.

"I knew you were a genius, B," you whispered and with that, you closed the gap between your lips.

Your hand immediately went to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His big hands completely covered your face, cupping it softly. Neither of you wanted to stop, diving into the sweet flavor of each other's lips until your breath ran out

A few cheers breaking out from behind you once you pulled away. You both snapped your heads towards the sound, finding your friends standing on the porch, clapping, their smiles so wide, it must’ve hurt them.

"That's my boy Bobbie," Hangman laughed out loud, grabbing Fanboy around the shoulder. "You rock, Bob," Rooster whooped, earning another wave of cheers. You hid in Bob's shoulder, trying to cool down the heat in your face, before looking up at him. "And no cheers for me?" you teased.

"I will cheer for you," Bob smiled slightly, unable to look away from your eyes. "I will tell them you're the best kisser,"

"I’m just finally making use of what I learned in school," you winked and Bob couldn't help himself but kiss you all over again.

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Please let me know how you liked this story with a like, comment or repost!

Who would you like me to write about next? -> requests open!

If you liked this story, you’ll enjoy -> Cry-baby

-> That’s my wife

[adoredvi]

TILL DEATH DO US APART

1x1x1x1 x GN!Reader

Vi notes: uhmm punctuations may be horrendous and there are some error in the process, because English is NOT my first language and I just made this for fun, so enjoy:>>

They say that love is the greatest thing that can happen to a being. And you agree— it is.

Growing up, you are taught that love is important, along with kindness, and being respectful to people around you. At first, you were defiant about it, you dislike how your parents constantly wanted to instill that mentality in you, and as you grow older, you kinda see the appeal in their words and what they wanted you to learn.

1x1x1x1, or 1x for short, always wondered what he went wrong whenever she tried to get him to notice them, it's frustrating, every attempt, every single time they tried, she always fails, hell she even tried to go and do what it takes for him to notice him, but alas— it always fails, it never worked anyway.

He feels so much hatred inside of him, it slowly builds up as time goes by— everytime he sees him paying attention to other's aside from her. He thought it was all going to be like that for the rest of their life, until you came in, you lit up their life, their darkening heart, you drove them mad with every little smile you flash their way, every little encouraging words that he thought he'll never hear again. She loved it, she loves you, even if they don't want to admit it out loud.

You noticed— of course you did, you always do, you seemed to have made a habit of being observant of their movements, behavior, even how he speaks— you just find him endearing, but was it really just that? You really don't know.

You don't know until you found out they suddenly disappeared. You asked and asked everywhere, even going as far as to asking his creator who only looked at you and turned away not wanting to break your sweet fragile heart.

He isn't the same person you know anymore.

She didn't get it, she didn't get why their creator sent him down to this hell hole, to his own personal hell, and there it is, the hatred— the emotion he buried deep. The emotion that they never wanted to come out ever again, they thought that it's not there anymore, you helped them didn't you?....

Or were you lying like he is too..?

He walked, stared and grew bored alone in that world, not a single living thing around her, even things started shifting— like her skin, it started darkening, their own body shifting differently from what they used to know, it was horrifying, but did he care anymore? No, he barely even felt anything aside from hatred. That feeling of need for revenge, for satisfaction of seeing those who wronged him fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness while she stare at them condescendingly.

But from amidst of these thoughts, you always come crawling back to their mind, her heart pounding painfully, they don't know if they even have that anymore but it somehow did whenever they remember you smile and the way you lit up the room around you.

They groan whenever that happens, they just want to keep you in arms reach, or in other words, in their arms, and keep you away from prying eyes where others can disgustingly lay their eyes on your illuminating self.

It was yet another day of being alone in this dark world, 1x is seen wondering around the place, they seemed to have memorized it already, it was the only thing he can do in such place really, so he has no choice anyway.

1x sighed in boredom, the whole area felt empty without your presence, even though they've been there for what seemed like eternity, she still haven't forgotten who you are.

And when it seemed like it was getting too boring, she was teleported in a deserted hallway, that was until— of course a flash of red ran past him, only stopping a few feet away from behind her, and coming back once more.

"Oh oh!! A new person!!!" It? He said with so much enthusiasm, jumping up and down before physically dragging her from the place he came running out of.

"Lookie guys!! A new person arrived!!" The little guy yelled as soon as he entered the room, the door practically forcing open with his entery, his voice carrying that of excitement, cutting off the chatter in the room.

1x grunted in disapproval and distaste, brushing the kid's hand off of her, before standing there with his arms crossed, looking all too observant to his surroundings.

That went on for hours, and of course, 1x got the information they wanted, why were they here, and where are they.

1x sighed, the noise echoing through the confined space if their room, their first match is tomorrow, already, he already knows his abilities so is it even a surprise her first match is just right after she came to this world? No. The Spectre doesn't either.

You were confused, you spawned in on a room— a cabin, right on the cold wooded floor, luckily, a few people saw you and Introduced themselves and explained where you are, thankfully.

You understand the concept, but you don't know why you're here to begin with, judging by what the survivors around you, some looked like they hadn't seen a better day— which kinda is true considering their situation.

They also told you about your supposed abilities, which were pretty surprising considering you are just pretty much a normal robloxian, there is nothing important about you whatsoever, but did you complain? No, you're already here anyway.

Meeting again isn't in both of your bucket list, but here you are, face to face with one another— the other bleeding, and the other staring them down with so much emotion mixed into one.

You never expected to see him again, but neither did she expect to see you again, but here you are, faced to face with one another.

The time is running out, all your other teammates were down and dead, leaving you last, but did 1x made an attempt to move? No, they didn't, instead? They surprised themselves and you. He hugged you, brought you into his arms in a tight hold, muttering things about how stupid you are for getting hurt.

It was their way of saying they care and they missed you, but you didn't speak about it and just leaned into her hold, you missed this, you missed her.

"Death can't separate us," you would mutter in the past while you hold them in your arms similar to what she was doing now. It always made them smile and sigh in relief whenever you mutter those lines.

And now, they seem to be the one to be saying that, although albeit, silently, their hold on you tightening in the slightest while the time runs out.

It seemed like even when obstacles keeps you both apart, you will find each other over and over again, even after death.

IM SORRY IF 1X SEEMS OOC IN THIS I'M BAD AT CHARACTERS PERSONALITY...and it's not the canon either, I think....I also got lazy at the end😣😣

[weemssapphic]

hello hello hello, i don’t know if your requests are open but listen

okay, imagine larissa while she’s pleasuring an other woman who is on her lap and has her front pressed to larissa’s

reader passes in front of the door where they are doing it and she hears some moans, she slowly opens the doors, just a few inches so that she can observe the scene

larissa makes eye contact with her, she doesn’t stop, no no, she keeps going and going, she brings the other woman over the edge while constantly keeping eye contact with the reader and smirking while the two women moans in each other ears

reader then realizes how wrong the situation is and go back to her room but she isn’t aware of larissa who followed her and i don’t know the rest is up to you💀 if you will ever want to write this, i understand if you don’t like it, it’s pure smut with feelings at te end? or maybe no feelings at all but just friends with benefits? idk change whatever u want!!

-xoxo dear

i love all your fics so much and ily too!

a/n: another older request that i never got to finishing as i start on some newer ones! i'm so sorry but i hope you like it and thank you sooo much, ily!!!

watching her (nsfw)

words: ~3.7k | ao3 link in title accidental voyeurism, slutty!Larissa, slightly dubious power dynamics - enjoy!

Insomnia is slowly driving you mad. It’s been at least a week since you last got more than 4 solid hours of sleep in a row and you’ve taken to restlessly wandering the corridors of Nevermore in an attempt to tire yourself out. 

Last night, you bumped into Principal Weems on your little walk, as she’d been on her way back to her quarters after being out. It had been late, sure, but you hadn’t questioned it — the woman was allowed to have a life outside of Nevermore, after all. She’d invited you back to her office for a nightcap, you’d talked for a bit, laughed even — she’d insisted you call her Larissa and stop with the formalities, it had made you blush and stutter like a fool. 

She’d said you could come by again sometime if you still found yourself plagued by sleepless nights, that she often stayed up late working and could use the company. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t call on her again, she was probably just being nice, you didn’t want to bother her — but, well… why not?

Your feet carry you towards Principal Weems’s — Larissa’s — office and you knock gently, afraid of disturbing her. The door swings open at your knock, it hadn’t been closed properly, and you stare at it, perplexed.

“Larissa?” you call out, peeking your head into the office. 

Silence.

The room is dark, the last embers dying in the fireplace — clearly she’d already retired to her quarters. You should leave… but she should know that her office is unlocked, you have a feeling she wouldn’t like that. 

Her quarters are connected to her office by a door at the far end and you make your way towards it — you’ll just knock, politely explain that you found the door to her office open, and then leave again. Surely she’d be grateful that you told her. 

As you approach the door to her quarters, you find that this one is ajar as well — and, before you have a chance to decide whether or not to knock, the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard in your life reaches your ears.

All of the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks and you freeze in place — was Larissa masturbating? Having sex? There’s another moan, a little quieter than the first, but it sounds close, and you know you should turn around and leave but against your better judgement you lean towards the door and place your ear against it and it opens just a few inches more, so that you’re able to peer through the crack.

It feels like a hummingbird has been trapped in your chest, and even eating sand couldn’t make your mouth feel drier.

The door opens into a small sitting room, with a sofa that faces it, and sitting on that sofa is none other than Larissa herself — with a naked woman on her lap, whose back is to you. Larissa seems to be wearing lingerie, it’s hard to tell from the angle, but it’s more of her than you’ve ever seen before, her long legs spread to accommodate the other woman’s petite frame, one hand on the woman’s hip and the other hand disappearing between their bodies.

The two women are kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths. Larissa’s moans are the softer, quieter ones, and the sound makes it feel as though your whole body is suddenly on fire. Your lips feel chapped, you lick them in vain, you realize you haven’t been breathing. You know you should turn away, sneak back to your own quarters before you get caught, but your legs feel like jell-o and you’re certain that if you tried to take so much as one step, your knees would give out and you’d collapse on the spot.

Then Larissa breaks the kiss, nips at the woman’s earlobe — she tilts her head with a moan and Larissa opens her eyes and looks right in your direction and you almost do collapse on the spot, suddenly feeling more than a little lightheaded, your stomach sinking.

You brace yourself, ready for Larissa to stop everything, to come over and berate you, to unleash her fury on you and send you packing. Her eyes bore into your own, pupils so blown that barely a sliver of blue is visible, and you can’t look away no matter how hard you will yourself to. 

But nothing happens. Larissa’s lips stay firmly attached to the other woman’s neck, her shoulder flexes as her arm appears to move with even more urgency — it’s hard to see from where you’re stood but from the obscene noises that reach your ears, you can only assume that Larissa is buried knuckle deep in this woman’s cunt.

Obscenities begin to spill from her lips as she bucks against Larissa, none the wiser to the audience half-hidden behind the door. Her back arches and flexes and the tendons in her neck stretch as Larissa’s lips assault her pulse point, as Larissa digs her teeth into the smooth flesh, all the while keeping her eyes on you.

You can almost see a hint of a smirk on Larissa’s lips as she brings the other woman over the edge, holding her firmly against herself as she trembles and moans in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. It’s as if Larissa is getting off on having you watch her, her cheeks adorned with a rosy flush and her eyes hooded.

It’s almost too much for you to handle. This is so wrong, not only walking in on your boss during sex but staying and watching like a voyeur. You shouldn’t be here — even if Larissa hasn’t acknowledged you yet, you’re certain that you’ll be fired by morning, when she finally comes to her senses.

You stumble back from the door, moans continuing to spill through the crack. Your foot catches on the corner of a rug and you have to catch yourself on Larissa’s desk — the action snaps you firmly back to reality and you slip out of Larissa’s office as quietly as you can. 

Once you’re in the hallway your feet pick up speed, pure adrenaline carrying you back to your own quarters. You’re grateful that it’s the middle of the night and no one is around, surely people would question why you’re sprinting through the halls as if you’re being chased. You don’t stop until you’ve slammed and locked the door to your quarters behind you, and then your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

The thing is, you like Larissa — a lot more than you should. You probably shouldn’t have even taken the job in the first place, seeing as your crush started during your very first interview for the position. Until now, though, it’s been fairly easy to suppress your feelings. You truly don’t interact with Larissa that much, most of your time is spent with your students and working. Only now, you have no idea how you’re ever going to be able to face Larissa again.

One question gnaws at you, and the more you think about it, the more your stomach sinks. Why didn’t Larissa stop what she was doing? Why did she let you watch, why did it seem like she wanted you to watch? Was it because she has some sort of voyeurism kink? Or was it, perhaps, because she has some sort of feelings for you, too? 

You scoff at yourself — the thought of Larissa Weems finding you desirable is utterly absurd. Plus, if she did have feelings for you, why would she be fucking someone else? Tears begin to blur your vision, spilling down your cheeks, and you press your face against your knees, losing sense of time as you try (and fail) to reign in your emotions.

A gentle knock at your door rips you from your misery, and you realize that you’re still sitting on the floor. Your knees pop as you stand and you quickly wipe at your eyes with your sleeves, trying to make it look like you haven’t been sobbing. Your heart hammers in your chest as you reach for the door handle, wondering who could be calling on you — perhaps another teacher who heard you crying? Or maybe a student needs help?

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s Larissa.

She stands tall in front of you, looking down at you in a way you’ve never seen before. She doesn’t appear to be angry — on the contrary, there’s a small, playful smile on her lips and her cheeks are flushed a gorgeous shade of pink. She’s dressed, though a bit haphazardly, and a few baby hairs peek out of her updo at her forehead.

“I thought you’d still be awake,” she says, her voice a low purr, and you’re certain your face is as red as a tomato, a lump growing in your throat. You wonder if she’s being sweet on purpose to lull you into a false sense of security, but you quickly shake the thought from your head — that isn’t like her.

Your voice fails you so you nod meekly instead, and that little act of submission turns Larissa’s smile into a smirk.

“Are you alright, darling? You don’t look very well…” Her tone is light and teasing but her eyebrows crease a bit as her eyes track the dried trails of your tears down your cheeks. You nod again, wiping at your cheeks with your sleeve, certain you’ve never looked more pathetic in your life.

“I’m fine,” you lie, the tremble in your voice giving you away, and Larissa cups your cheek, her thumb grazing across your lower lip and sending a spark down your spine — your accompanying shiver doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Was that a bit too much for you, my dear?” she coos, and your breath stutters in your chest as images that you’re trying to suppress come flooding back to you.

“I-I just…” You don’t know what to say. Is Larissa looking for an explanation? An apology? Why did she follow you? Why is she touching you?

“I’m not upset with you, darling,” she reassures you, her tone soft. So you’re not in trouble, but this is uncharted territory all the same. She takes a step towards you, backing you into your quarters, and closes the door behind herself. “Why don’t we have a seat, hm?”

Her gaze flickers to your bed and you can only nod dumbly as you let her lead you towards it with a hand on the small of your back, taking a seat beside you. Her thigh is touching yours, her body heat radiating off of her, and you swear you can smell the sex on her, and it’s making it hard to think.

“Why did you come to my quarters?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep again,” you admit quietly, clasping your hands in your lap and looking down at them to keep yourself from doing something you’ll regret. “Larissa, I-I swear, I didn’t mean to walk in on you, it’s just your office door was unlocked and I–”

“I was hoping you’d come by tonight.”

Larissa’s admission knocks the wind right out of you, and you can’t help but to look up at her, struck dumb by the amusement on her face. “Y-you were?” You hate how breathy your voice has gotten, a spark of hope and something more primal sprouting in your abdomen, but your brows knit together in confusion as you try to make sense of the situation you’ve found yourself in. “But what about that other woman?”

“Just a friend,” Larissa says casually, shrugging. 

“A… friend? Does she know you’re here?”

Larissa smirks. “She does.” Her gaze drops slowly, deliberately to your lips, turning your core to molten lava.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Larissa mocks, and your face turns crimson. She reaches into your lap and takes your hand in her own, stopping your fidgeting. “Tell me you want me to leave and I will.”

“I… can’t do that,” you admit, unable to hear your own voice over the hammering of your heart in your ears.

At that, Larissa takes your hand and places it on her own waist, then kicks her heels off and adjusts herself on the bed so that she’s slowly pushing you backwards until you’re lying flat on your back and she’s hovering over you. “Do you want this as much as I do?” she asks, her gaze flickering between each of your eyes, and you almost don’t answer because you’re so distracted by how soft and right her hip feels beneath your hand. 

“I don’t know how much you want this…” You swallow thickly and Larissa chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “B-but yeah, I want this.”

Larissa shifts her weight onto one arm, her other hand running through your hair until it reaches your jaw. She hooks one finger below your chin and tilts it up, pressing her lips gently to yours and pressing the length of her body against you.

Her lips are just as soft as you’d pictured them to be (and it’s something you’d daydreamed about often) and your heart is beating so fast you think you might actually be having a heart attack. It takes you a moment to start kissing her back and, when you do, you reach up tentatively to cup her cheeks. The action spurs Larissa on and she flicks her tongue against your lips, silently begging you to part them — you do, without a second thought, unable to stifle the moan that rips from your chest as her tongue tangles with your own.

It’s easy to get lost in a woman like Larissa. Her mouth is hot and wet and tastes like red wine and lipstick, and her body is warm and soft and smells like tuberose and vanilla. She’s got a way of enveloping your senses so that nothing else exists in that moment apart from her, and you’re powerless to stop her — not that you would ever want to. 

She bends her leg and intertwines it with yours, sliding her hand along your jaw and into your hair, her fingers curling behind your ear as she deepens the kiss. The most sinful little sighs and moans spill from her mouth directly into yours, making you soak through your underwear faster than the best audio porn you’ve ever heard.

You think you might be having the same effect on Larissa, because you feel her shudder against you, her hand tightening in your hair as her knee inches towards your center. “I like the way you taste,” she mumbles against your lips, her tongue delving deeper into your mouth. 

“Same,” you murmur, rather pathetically, and Larissa chuckles, nipping playfully at your lower lip — then her knee presses against your core through your trousers, making you gasp. Your head falls back against the pillow and Larissa takes the opportunity to cover your neck in kisses and little bites. Her knee grinds against your cunt and, from this angle, you feel the warmth radiating from her own crotch against your thigh. “Larissa, p-please…”

“Please? Please what?” she teases, pulling back just in time to watch your face turn red, your lips parting but no words coming out. “May I take this off?” she asks, giving the hem of your shirt a gentle tug, clearly realizing she’s not going to get a coherent answer out of you, and you nod eagerly. 

Larissa’s hand is warm against your stomach and your abs contract as her fingers slide up your torso, pulling your shirt along with them and revealing more and more of your body to her. She pushes your shirt over your breasts and you help her to tug it off the rest of the way, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Your bra soon follows, Larissa’s fingers getting to work on the clasp and wasting no time in getting you naked. Her lips replace her hands, nipping at the swell of your breasts, leaving little red marks and tiny bruises, marking you as her own.

“Aren’t you just stunning?” she murmurs as she kisses her way down the center of your abdomen, her hands molding against the curve of your waist, her breath tickling your skin and making every hair on your body stand on end.

You start to squirm as she gets closer and closer to the hem of your trousers, and you feel her smirk against your lower belly as she hooks her fingers beneath the waistband and starts to tug, her lips following your trousers as they get pulled down, then discarded. 

“You’re so wet,” she coos — your cheeks are aflame as you shift your hips slightly and feel how you’ve soaked through your underwear, and then Larissa speaks again and you feel you may combust on the spot. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, darling, you’re not the only one…”

Larissa sits up, unbuttoning the front of her dress — her breasts spill out of their constraints and you realize she’s come here without a bra on. You shiver. She frees her arms from the dress and tugs it down her body, over the soft swell of her lower belly, her hips, shifting to the side to pull it down her legs and toss it aside, along with her underwear, which join the heap of clothing on the floor. In the dim light of your bedroom, you can see her pale inner thighs glisten with the evidence of her arousal, the smell of her growing stronger with no more barriers in place.

“Now, where were we…” she teases, lowering herself again so that her face is level with your cunt. She presses her lips to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need her most, and you struggle to keep yourself from bucking your hips against her face. You pray she doesn’t notice this but of course she does — she chuckles, her breath hitting the cool, wet spot at the center of your underwear and making you clench. “Patience, darling.” 

“S-sorry,” you mumble, fisting at the sheets to have something to do with your hands, to keep yourself from squirming and fidgeting as Larissa pulls your underwear down your thighs and then wraps her arms around them, giving you a little tug to get you just where she wants you.

A moan spills from your lips, so guttural that you hardly recognize it as your own, as Larissa runs her tongue up the length of your pussy. She mumbles something about how you taste but her voice is muffled against you and you can’t really focus on what she’s saying anyway as all the blood in your body rushes to your cunt.

You feel your knees bend of their own accord, your body opening itself to Larissa, seeking more of the pleasure she’s giving you. Her tongue dips inside of you, deeper, deeper, fuck, her tongue is long, she fucks you with it nice and slow, thorough, taking her time. When she moans it seems to vibrate throughout your entire body, you bite down on your lip so hard that you draw blood.

It’s clear now why that other woman was moaning so hard — Larissa knows just which buttons to press. Your thighs are already trembling as she thrusts her tongue inside of you, and then she circles your clit with her thumb and you see stars. You want to watch her so badly, you’ve fantasized about this moment and, if the last thing you ever saw was Larissa’s silky blonde hair bobbing between your thighs, you’d die the happiest person on the planet. But it’s so hard to keep your eyes open, every muscle in your body clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm just a little while longer.

You don’t consciously remember moving your hands but they’re in Larissa’s hair now, gripping so desperately that you’re probably hurting her — though, if you are, she doesn’t let on. She doubles down, letting you push her head against your cunt, her thumb against your clit, and you finally can’t take it anymore — your body tenses as your orgasm washes over you, the most satisfying release you’ve ever felt.

Larissa stays in position as you ride out your high and even after, gently and thoroughly cleaning you up with her tongue until you whine and twitch away from her, too sensitive to continue. She releases your legs from her hold, crawling up your body and lowering herself beside you, curling one arm around you and pulling you into her side. You rest your head against her chest, your breathing slowly synching with hers, her heartbeat helping you to regulate your own. You’re sweaty and your cheek sticks to the top of her breast but she doesn’t seem to mind, just runs her fingertips up and down your arm as you come back down to earth.

“You said you wanted this,” she says after a while, her voice quiet and contemplative in the silence of your room.

You grunt in response, still feeling a little dazed.

“Since when?”

A blush spreads across your face, you’re sure Larissa can feel the sudden heat from your cheek against her skin. You can’t believe you’re about to confess to Larissa how long you’ve liked her — but then again you can’t believe she’s just eaten you out either. “I think since I first met you, actually,” you murmur, preparing yourself for a negative reaction.

Larissa laughs, her chest rumbling beneath your head. “That’s quite a long time… though my answer wouldn’t be much better.” That alone makes your heart pound but then Larissa continues speaking and your ears start to ring. “Though I think if I’m being honest, I want a little more than just this.” 

“What do you want?” you whisper, trying desperately to keep your hope at bay. You steal a glance at Larissa’s face and, even though it’s hard to tell from the angle, you swear she has a small smile on her face.

“More than just sex, I mean,” she starts, her fingertips still tracing patterns against your bare arm. “I’d like to take you out, get to know you better… spoil you a little, perhaps.” There’s a trace of teasing humor in her voice, mixed with a vulnerability that you’ve never seen from her before. You nuzzle your face against her neck, your heart in your throat, your voice hoarse when you reply.

“That’s what I want, too…” 

Larissa presses her lips to your head and hums softly. “Then I suppose I’d like to know if you’re free this Friday evening, and if I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes, Larissa…” You prop yourself up so that you can look her in the eye. “Yes, I would love to go out to dinner with you.” Pausing, you reach out to tuck a strand of Larissa’s hair behind her ear, your cheeks warming and your heart thrumming in your chest as you prepare to be brave. You take a deep breath. “But… for now… let me return the favor?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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[patchwork-crow-writes]

Ralsei is the Literal Personification of Abandonment And Self-Esteem Issues - and it's all because Kris threw him away in their childhood.

Been a while since I've done a long-form essay on Ralsei Deltarune! Chapter 3 and 4 really blew the doors wide open on this guy - how he sees himself, how he relates to other darkners, his place in the prophecy (and his attempts to subvert it), how he echoes the goatlike Dreemurrs but isn't a carbon copy of them, and his relationship with Kris Dreemurr particularly, entirely divorced from the SOUL/player possessing them. I've been swirling it all in my head over the past two weeks, trying to figure out what it all says about him, alongside what scant knowledge was established in prior chapters.

This is the result: a thesis that will lay out my vision on who and what Ralsei truly is, why he's manifested in this way, why he dotes on Kris specifically, and how everything ties together to explain some of his more... questionable actions in the chapters we have so far. Altogether, I want to provide context for his actions in previous chapters, his beliefs about himself and darkner-kind in present chapters, and where the future chapters might take his character.

Buckle in, this is going to be a LONG one.

Part 1: "I just wonder what... being "Ralsei-like" even is...?"

Before Chapters 3 and 4 came out, the question of "Who or what is Ralsei" was a rather open-ended one. Concrete evidence was scant, and what little could be gleaned from optional dialogue or careful observation didn't shed much light on anything. For every point that indicated Ralsei was Kris's horned headband, another would refute that and suggest he was created whole cloth as a character for the player's enjoyment. Was he a naive, inexperienced youth struggling to deal with his friends' big emotions, or an uncaring gamemaster who was determined to keep events on the rails? Perhaps he was a creation of Gaster - a Goner, like those transient souls we sometimes see in Undertale if we're lucky. Or maybe he was a Titan Spawn, rebelling against his ordained purpose and using his knowledge for the forces of light.

With the new chapters, what we got instead was far more interesting and compelling than any of us could have possibly imagined. What we got... was a scared, lonely, sad boy, burdened with knowledge he didn't ask for, raised in isolation from anything approaching care or compassion, desperate for love and camaraderie but never feeling like he truly deserved it. Alone so long he doesn't know who or what he is, so conditioned by prophecy that he sees himself as little more than a playing piece on a board much grander and more important than himself.

Yet, for the sake of his friends and their happiness... he tries to defy the fate set out before him. Write a happier ending for them... but not for himself. Never for himself.

Because he's a darkner. And darkners don't matter.

Part 2: "Just forget about us and make some real friends."

You do not have to play Deltarune long to get a sense of how Ralsei sees himself in relation to lightners (See: literally anything he says to Kris - we'll visit this later on)... or, for that matter, how he sees darkners as a whole in relation to lightners. Everything is framed through this lens for him, even all the way back in chapter 1:

And chapter 2:

All of which culminates in the bombshell revelation at the beginning of Chapter 3 - Darkners are nothing more than inanimate objects given life by some sort of "meta-darkness", permitted to exist only in a liminal, "indistinct" state of being. For all intents and purposes, darkners are entirely imaginary... and Ralsei is entirely, painfully aware of that fact, even as he's explaining it to Kris and Susie.

Astute players will have noticed clues indicating this truth, and even that Ralsei himself has known about it this whole time - particularly when it comes to getting Kris to gather up all the objects in the Abandoned Classroom to bring back to his Castle Town.

However, the implications of this knowledge that Ralsei possessed, or whether it affected him in any capacity, weren't fully apparent until he tried to "console" Tenna at the end of chapter 3:

"Mr. Tenna… I… understand how you feel. To want to be… important. To be… useful. Perhaps… you might not be watched much anymore… But… that doesn't make you a failure, Tenna! You've brought smiles, light into Lightner's lives… to Kris's family and friends, for so long. So, there's nothing to be ashamed of.If… that ever comes to an end. Darkners.. all become obsolete eventually. But we aren't "real", Tenna. We shouldn't make Lightners worry about what happens to us. It'd just… make them unhappy, wouldn't it?"

This speech is, for want of a better term, a trainwreck. If it was intended to provide comfort and solace, it did the total opposite, and it was only thanks to Susie's timely intervention that Tenna was able to rally. But what it says about how Ralsei feels about his station as a darkner - as the Prince of the Dark, no less - speaks volumes. Stated plainly, he sees the relationship between lightners and darkners as a purely functional, transactional one, where darkners are destined to amuse, entertain and bring happiness to their lightner betters. Once they can no longer sustain that function, for whatever reason... it is then their destiny to be cast out, disposed of, left behind and forgotten. In fact, he goes further than this, implying that darkners as a whole should be GRATEFUL to have been useful in any capacity, and that they should not lament their fate, in case they upset the lightners they are supposed to serve.

To most anyone else, this would be a horrifying portrayal of existence - but to Ralsei, it is his lodestone, the guiding principle that informs his every action. A true darkner would be happy to have served so faithfully, so he thinks... it's not as if he or any of the others are real, in any case, so what they think doesn't even matter in the first place. He will be useful to his friends - his masters - for as long as he can serve, in whatever capacity he can serve.

And Ralsei will condemn himself to abject misery in order to do it.

Part 3: "If anyone's going to hurt... let it... just be me."

To call Ralsei "self-sacrificing" is a level of understatement that borders on the tragically comic. He constantly falls over himself offering his services to Kris and Susie, ensuring they are happy, trying to protect them from things that might make them sad. He sees Lancer "transform" into a stool ONCE, then takes that transformation for himself so he can be a literal object for his friends to use at their convenience - even when there's an actual perfectly usable stool nearby.

(For the record, I don't kinkshame. Go off prince!)

Want more? Okay - Ralsei is so preoccupied with making cakes for Kris and Susie, but has never even attempted to try one for himself - and is then ashamed at how much he enjoys it.

Still not convinced? Okay - Ralsei goes to all the trouble to create bespoke rooms for Kris and Susie in his castle, AND all the major chapter antagonists (except King lol), decorates them all to their occupants' liking... and then we stumble across his room in chapter 4 and it's completely empty. Not even a chair to sit on - Nothing except a small window looking out into the world.

Ah, but luckily, there IS something he feels like he deserves: pain. Physical pain, mental pain, emotional pain... he's such a glutton for punishment that he won't settle for his own pain, but put himself in ever-greater anguish for the sake of his friends... and smile while doing it.

He'll suffer the crushing burden of knowledge, the tragedy of the final prophecy, Kris and Susie thinking he's weird, the PLAYER thinking he's suspicious, being belittled, demeaned, looked down upon and ignored... he'll take it all upon his own shoulders, and not once dare to complain about it.

And for what? To risk alienating the very people he cares so much for? To risk Susie's anger and frustration at his constant pussyfooting around difficult subjects? To one day take on too much, to watch as his careful facade shatters and crumbles around him, to burn himself out so utterly that he ceases to be of any use to anyone?

Good thing he's friends with Susie, right?

...right?

Part 4: "How can she be so kind...? How...?"

Susie sets herself in opposition to Ralsei's worldview from the very start of their adventure, rejecting her status as a hero and walking off to do her own thing. She rebuffs his lofty speeches about "prophecies" and "purpose", choosing instead to trust in what her senses are telling her in the present moment.

And she has very little patience for his more... self-denying tendencies. She'll insist he's real to her and Kris at every turn, she'll pledge to get him furniture for his room and make it the most "bad-ass room in the castle". She'll cut over his "motivational" speech to Tenna and replace it with her own, insisting that "someone wants you" and "no-one's getting thrown away".

Even when faced with the inevitability of the Final Prophecy - the tragic ending that Ralsei has tried so hard to stop her from learning about - she refuses to bow to it, shattering it into a million pieces and reassuring him it won't ever come to pass - because they won't let it.

So it is that Susie's example sets a fire in Ralsei's heart. He finds himself endlessly inspired by her, not in spite of her crass, irreverent manner, but because of it. Everything she does, she does because she WANTS to, not because anyone told her to. And that fills Ralsei with hope - hope, however dim, that perhaps they can defy the cruel fate set out for them.

But hope alone isn't enough.

Part 5: "Darkners... all become obsolete eventually."

This line, taken from the aforementioned trainwreck of a rousing speech to Tenna, perfectly encapsulates everything that Ralsei believes about himself, about darkners in general, and about the way things must be. And it stabs right at the heart of his trauma.

Because he has already experienced it firsthand.

This is the point where we must venture into conjecture - everything I've established over the past few minutes has laid the groundwork for my theory on what Ralsei is, why he's the way he is, and how we might predict how he'll behave in future chapters.

Remember Toriel talking about Kris's old horned headband back in chapter 1? How they asked her when their horns would grow in? How they wore it for months, before it suddenly, mysteriously disappeared? Those horns played a role in Kris's life, and an important one at that - they helped to validate their feelings around their identity, allowed them to feel more akin to their adoptive family, more like a monster and less like... an outsider. To have lost or otherwise misplaced such a treasured object would be unthinkable.

Now... have you noticed the way that Ralsei will fawn over Kris specifically throughout their adventures together? How he'll doggedly follow in Kris's shadow no matter what they do or how they act? How he'll excuse them any behaviour, no matter if he'd rebuke another for that same behaviour? How he'll go out of his way to reassure them, console them? Validate their identity, their talents, their choices - to an almost obsessive degree?

Put these points side-by-side, and you start to see how they correlate with each other - how Ralsei's behavior in the present follows on from the headband's role in Kris's past. It is the strongest indication we have that Ralsei's light world object is more likely than not to be that very same horned headband. Indeed, the parallels between them are so strong that once you see them, it's almost impossible to believe otherwise. It neatly explains Ralsei's almost crush-like obsession with Kris, his need to validate their identity at all costs, and his acute embarrassment and joy at being seen as their equal.

But my assertion goes further than this anodyne observation: I assert that, at some point after wearing the headband for months, Kris realised that they were NEVER going to be a true monster, a true Dreemurr... that they'd always be shackled to their humanity, no matter what. And so, far from accidentally losing the headband, they made the conscious decision to throw it away once they realised the lie it represented. It had served its purpose, brought joy to a child who felt like they didn't belong... and then its purpose was used up, and it was discarded.

Abandoned.

At a stroke, this explains all of Ralsei's strange behaviours - his obsessive need to be useful, his almost-slavish devotion to the happiness of his lightner friends, his twisted and utilitarian views on darkner-kind, and his own catastrophic lack of self esteem. He is TERRIFIED of being abandoned again, and will do anything in his power to remain useful, to not become obsolete and unwanted... and yet at exactly the same time, he sees it as his inevitable fate. One day, his use will run out, and without warning he'll be cast back into obscurity. And try as he might, there is nothing Ralsei can do about it.

He failed in his purpose once before... and he could just as easily fail it again.

Part 6: "Hearing that from you... I might just..."

I've mentioned before that Susie attempts to counteract Ralsei's narrative that neither he nor the other darkners are "real", and that none of them really matter in the grand scheme of things. She loudly proclaims the opposite, any chance she gets, asserts her profound believe that Ralsei IS real, and that they ARE friends. And not just Ralsei - her concern and compassion extends to ALL darkners. It's sweet and touching, and brings the two of them closer together.

And none of it has any effect on Ralsei's view of the world whatsoever. To him, Susie's grand platitudes are just that - they can enkindle hope in his heart that their grim future can be averted, and they can bring comfort in a moment of insecurity... but they alone cannot heal his trauma. Because while he DOES desperately want to hear those words spoken to him, it's not Susie he wants to hear them from.

It's Kris.

And we know this because there are two instances where Kris CAN say something approaching those words to him - once in chapter 2's Acid Tunnel, where they can say "It's nice that Ralsei is Ralsei", and again in Chapter 4, upon discovering Ralsei's unfurnished room, they can say "Please be yourself". And the way he reacts in both instances is telling:

The takeaway here is that, no matter how ardently Susie proclaims and validates Ralsei's fundamental identity and existence, it won't be until Kris echoes that sentiment, freely and of their own volition, that he'll begin to truly believe it for himself. It has to come from Kris - the one who had once needed him to validate their own identity, before they unknowingly consigned him to loneliness and bereavement.

Perhaps at that point, Ralsei's trauma can finally begin to heal from the damage that was done to him.

Part 7: "My own desires. My own... fears."

So. Now that we've reached this point... where does Ralsei's character arc go from here? How can we use what we've built up here to try and anticipate where Chapter 5 might take him, and how his relationships with Kris, Susie, and everyone else will change as a result?

We see glimmers of what it could look like in his talk with Kris, discussing him coming to discover his own likes and dislikes, his own selfish desires... contrasted with the "hobbies" he took up just as a way to further serve his lightner friends, and the internal conflict he feels at such:

I don't really have any hobbies, or interests. Baking, sewing, singing... those are all just... things I thought to do... for you two. But recently... I'm starting to feel like... like I'm developing my own opinions. My own likes. My own dislikes. My own desires. My own... fears. ...please... tell me... should I... Should a... Darkner... be feeling like this?

Do I think this means he'll one day abandon the persona he's so carefully curated up to this point? No - rather, I believe he will iterate and build upon it. His edges may become a little coarser, but fundamentally he'll still be the same caring, considerate fluffy boy we all know and love.

But that isn't to say there won't be bumps in the road along the way.

I brought up Chapter 5 specifically because of a few interesting hints about what it will entail. In Susie's trial against Gerson, he mentions the events of each chapter we've run into up to this point, and also this hint for Chapter 5's content:

Now, most people will see this and infer that this "jealousy" will be from Asgore, upon discovering that Toriel has shacked up with Sans. And while I do believe he will have his part to play, allow me to add another potential point to consider: I think RALSEI will be the one to experience this burning jealousy for the first time - and in its newfound intensity, make a crucial mistake that could wind up making things worse down the line.

Jealousy that he cannot be at peace with his purpose like the other darkners seem to be.

Jealousy that it took him so long to realise he could start to be his own person, independent of the lightners.

Jealousy that Susie's healing capabilities are beginning to eclipse his own, his "unique talent".

Jealousy that he cannot have what everyone else takes for granted - a normal, carefree life.

Jealousy that Kris seems to prefer Susie over him.

I believe that chapter 5 will be the point in the story where Ralsei's sense of purpose and obligation crashes headlong into his new, burgeoning wants as his own person, and he'll finally begin to reckon with the events of his past... how he was loved and cherished only to be thrown away without warning. The sadness and the bewilderment of such a traumatic event... but also, the resentment, the bitterness.

What had I done wrong to deserve such treatment? Why did I have to suffer like this? Why couldn't I have been kept, even if just as a memento?

Why won't Kris look at me the way they look at Susie...?

How can I get them to see me the way they used to?

Why can't we go back to the way things were before?

And where else would such an epiphany take place but the very space where another person struggles with their own questions about the past, and where every flower is seemingly grown for the sole purpose of proving his undying love to his former partner, in the hope that things may one day go back to the way they were before...?

Indeed, once you see the parallels between Ralsei and Asgore, they're almost impossible to unsee. And the more I think about it, the more certain I become that this is where Ralsei's character arc is progressing towards - a reckoning with the past, a lamentation at the present... and a resentment that threatens to burn down the very future he's fought for so valiantly up to this point.

And oh, what an inferno it will create.

Closing Thoughts: "I want to believe... it can change!"

Ralsei is a character who has been largely misunderstood by the fandom at large for a long time. Part of my motivation for writing this essay was to help steer people towards a more nuanced understanding of his behaviours, his role in the story, his potential past and future, and his strange, almost limerent connection with Kris. The scenario I outlined in the previous part was an attempt to show what I believe would be the most interesting and compelling direction for his character to go in, based on everything that had been established in both the game and my speculation up to that point. I hope that I have succeeded on this point.

I should say right now, for the purposes of clearing up any potential misunderstandings: I don't believe this potential is in any way indicative that Ralsei's gonna turn "evil" - just that he's a young person suffering a great deal from immense trauma and crushing responsibility, who doesn't have much experience with people, or even his own feelings, and who has the potential to lose control at a crucial moment. That doesn't make him evil - it makes him a person.

Likewise with Kris "abandoning" Ralsei - that act doesn't make them evil. Indeed, how could they have possibly known the significance of that action prior to reuniting with him years later? How many precious toys have you thrown away in your lifetime, and does the act of doing so make you some kind of villain? Perhaps in a world where darkners have the potential to exist... but otherwise, the question is ridiculous and doesn't merit discussion.

I suppose what I wanted to achieve by writing this essay is to allow people to see in Ralsei what I see in him - a flawed, tragic character, struggling to make sense of himself and his place in the world; to love and trust people as he finds them, not as he wishes them to be; to have the courage and belief to let go of the injustices of the past, and to face the uncertain future without fear... wherever it may take him.

I see a great deal of my own prior struggles in Ralsei. It's why I strongly believe that, if not actually autistic, he has been written with autistic coding in mind - the masking, the people-pleasing, the lack of finer social mores... but those same traits that endear him to me seemed to repel a great many others. I don't want a repeat of the chapter 2 times, I don't want his character to be defined by a misunderstanding like it has been up to this point. I hope that, after reading this, you all feel the same way.

Thank you so much for reading <3

special thanks to @dawnthefluffyduck and @bleakoutlo for their input and suggestions! :D

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

im so sorry and idk if this is a problem just i am having or other people are sharing but i follow both you and chuck tingle on this website, and your icons are EXTREMELY similar (little guy. wearing something pink on the head. green all around em. idk i have bifocals)

so every time i see a post from you i think to myself "huh dr. tingle thats kinda out of character..." and then i click on your blog and i go. oh your not chuck tingle. anyways no hate just polite observation.👋🥸

This is interesting because I am in fact wearing an orange hat in my profile pic. It hadn't occurred to me it might be pinkish.

However I am delighted to be in some way in the same bracket as Chuck Tingle because he is an icon and the hero we deserve. Though I think I might have profile pic seniority because I've been using mine on Tumblr since 2012. I'm entrenched, like a sort of barnacle

[thursfys]

Ok ok so I have some personal headcanons bout Eddie and Volt along with their interactions with the homeowner/you I have to share otherwise I will explode-

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Volt

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I'm probably reaching here but along with the obvious Frankensteins monster and Jekyll and Hyde theming, I've noticed Volt has a bit of vampire coding? That pale and almost unnatural, otherworldly beauty he possess and that cheeky, effervescent charm kinda tipped me into the vampire camp for him. Also, it makes the funny energy vampire joke so yeah.

His ears are pointed at the tip and he has a killer set of fangs to boot; his left (forward perspective right) one is slightly longer than it should be and peaks out a tad when smirking, even without a full toothy smile.

Playing more off of that, I think Volt can absorb or even pass on some extra electricity to Eddie if the need arises. Ed having some nervous jitters from an excess amount of power? Walk over and bite him to siphon it off! Ed feeling worn out and drained? Walk over and bite him to give him some energy! Volt doesn't do it that often as Eddie is exceptionally stubborn (+ embarrassed) and will tuck his head into his neck and flare the collar of his shirt to prevent the loving nibbles. He knows he can't pass any power to you without, ahem, dire consequences, but he still gives occasional nibbles as a show of affection.

On a different note, you know how he turns blue when pissed off in the their hate ending? I don't think it stops just there, nonono, I think Volt can go full on supernova glow stick if you fully managed to unleash his wrath. The only reason he probably didn't go full concentrated power of the sun mode was out of grief and self control. If something were to happen to both Eddie and you, well, I don't think it'd end well for whoever or whatever hurt you both. (This was inspired by that one meme of the glowing dude sitting in a diner-)

Now that you're part of the couples lives, that overprotectiveness that Volt feels for Eddie has been doubled and passed over to you too. Any shenanigans around the house that the other inhabitants might involve you with are under supervision of Volt and Eddie, but mostly Volt. He follows from room to room through the wires, carefully observing interactions with those he knows are trouble incarnate like the Hanks or Scandalabra. If he sees any form on discomfort etch itself across your face, the lights in the room flicker violently and dangerously; the bulbs rattle like the tail of a viper and the conductive wiring glow red hot as a warning to the offending object.

-----------------------

Eddie

-----------------------

Again reaching really far for this, but I think he used to look more like Volt before he made him. Still himself but maybe longer hair, with more streaks of white hair that resembled Volts. I guess a better way to describe it would be that the ends of Eddies hair as it is now used to have Volts hair at the end. V has always been there but I think it's not just in a metaphorical sense but physical as well.

Even though the wire is fixed now, he still has a habit of rubbing the part of his chest where it is. He can't say if it's because he was so used to it's ache that he still traces the spot or from a deep, unfounded anxiety that it could come back. He'll paw at the spot if he's starting to feel overwhelmed and overworked, it'll be one of his only tells that he's fraying himself.

Eddie gifted Volt his copper bracelets as a way to ask him out and gifted a small set of rings to the homeowner as a symbol of his love for them too. I think he enjoys metal working even with the pain he feels in his hands and wrists from his arthritis, bending and twisting the copper into beautiful shapes. Some of the other objects noticed the rings on your fingers and now Eddie has a side hustle much to his chagrin (he enjoys it but some of the requests made are so ridiculous it makes him want to toss a bar of metal at em)

Again on the overprotectiveness, Eddie can be just as bad as Volt but instead of watching and waiting, Ed will book it from the Breaker Box to snatch you up and escort you back to your room. The vicious side eye he gives the offending dateable as he walks away with you tucked away in his arms is enough to drop the temperature in the room by 10 degrees (he and Hector have an agreement-)

-----------------------

Both <3

-----------------------

This is a more bit of a self serving hc, but I think Eddie has the better singing voice between the two while Volt is the dancer. Eddie's singing voice is a touch deeper than his speaking voice, that chest deep rumble translating to a gorgeous serenade that is reserved for you and Volt alone, despite begging him to perform for the club. Volt on the other hand is as graceful as a professional ballerina and just as flexible too, moving as swiftly as a bolt of lightning.

Volt, unfortunately, is just as tone deaf as Johnny Splash, causing him to feel a kindred connection to the poor shower which is why he's still allowed into the Breaker Box. Though Eddie has put his foot down slightly and limited Johnny's "performances" to 3-4 times a week.

Eddie has two left feet and can't dance even when putting in a proper effort; last time he tried he managed to trip himself up and smashed his head against one of the tables. The bar was closed for 2 days for him to recover physically and emotionally.

They've also taken to sponsoring Beverly's bar to help her get some more traffic from the upstairs inhabitants, and in turn she has taken to supplying drinks part time or even taking over the bar temporarily whenever Eddie is out of commission (ie strapped to their shared bed and forced to relax for the night)

Volt has taken up a bit of Eddie's workaholic nature now that he's being forced to relax, nearly pushing himself to exhaustion some nights and having to be forcefully dragged to bed like a grumpy toddler by you. The best way to keep either of them from trying to get up to open the bar is to lay on em, whether it be you or one another, the warmth and pressure keeps the complaints to a minimum and prevents them for working themselves to the wire.

Lastly I think they have decent friendships with all the objects that rely on their shared power, except Freddy (drains a lot of their power but he tries to make it up to them with snacks) and Lux (keeps turning himself and his lamps on at night to "enhance" his live streams, Eddie is contemplating unplugging all of them and locking em up in the Breaker Box storage closet). They tried to have a conversation with Lux about it but had to cut it short before either of them blew a fuse from anger, Eddie moreso than Volt.

-----------------------

That's my brain rot for the night, I hope y'all enjoy it!

//DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR GENERATIVE AI I WILL THROW HANDS//

[pink-nightmare-lab]

✨🦇General!Lilia Vanrouge one-shot🦇✨

Summary: reader is a diurnal* fae and is curious about the nocturnal fae so she goes to their territory to satisfy her curiosity

*Diurnal: basically the opposite of nocturnal, in other words, most active during the day

Other info: reader is female and a faerie🦋

Side note: might turn this into a fully fledged fanfiction with multiple chapters, also, I don't know the word count but it's long

Also, everything is purely made up, I took some inspo from the Tinkerbell movies and used my own imagination, so yeah, nothing canon here but HOLY MOLY, it took me so long to finish this

You live in a beautiful village surrounded by big trees where fae of all kinds flutter by or walk, going on about their day while the warm sun shines through the trees and illuminating the village in a golden glow, flowers blooming in every corner and magic flowing through the cores of the trees protecting the village.

You were a diurnal fae, to be exact, a butterfly faerie, wings as soft as silk and delicate like the wings of the small butterflies fluttering by, there was nothing better than to fly around and feel the breeze caress your skin like a gentle kiss.

It was widely known that faeries have conflicts with humans for centuries now but even amongst faerie kind, conflicts exist too, for one, nocturnal and diurnal faerie don't seem to get along too well and usually stay out of each other's skin just to avoid unpleasantries.

Yet no matter how often the others warned you and told you all sorts of stories, you always wanted to see the nocturnal fae up close out of sheer curiosity, after all, what if they aren't as bad as everyone says they are?

It's dawn when you slowly arise from your slumber, stretching and letting your wings flutter before getting out of bed, the village slowly coming to life to proceed with their daily tasks.

Today or rather tonight will be different, tonight you're venturing outside the territory of the diurnal faeries and into the lands of the nocturnal fae, yearning to learn more about them since books don't cover much about them.

You put on a beautiful floral dress and your hair up so it won't bother you for today's flower caretaking amongst other butterfly faeries in the nearby meadow.

You flutter towards your closet and grab a dark brown cloak and stuff it into a bag for later, after all, nobody should see it's you and with those big wings of yours that resemble those of a monarch butterfly, they'd stick out like a sore thumb, especially in the dark forest of the nocturnal fae territory, big bright orange wings would certainly be an unusual sight over there.

Once you're ready, you flutter towards the meadow, some already there and tending to the moon flowers, preparing them for an upcoming festival, pollinating them with a special pollen and making sure no illness befell at least one of them.

While you scatter the pollen on the flowers, you carefully observe the guards, ever so often hiding beneath the big flowers to take a better glimpse at them, listening in and trying to memorise their patrolling pattern, technically, it wasn't forbidden to leave the village at night but when your reasoning is to visit the nocturnal fae and try to become friendly, well, that's another story.

When it finally becomes evening, it's time to get ready, you put on a cloak and wait around a certain area around one of the exits for guards to walk past and go towards another area to patrol.

It's your cue to leave and you quickly do so, not the fastest by foot but it worked, you only hope that nobody saw you else you'd be in trouble and then the mayor would be upset and then the ministers when they heard one of their subjects decided to dare to go to the nocturnal faeries.

You take off the cloak once you're a good bit away from the village, you decide to flutter towards the edge of the forest for the rest of this small trip till you reach the edge of the forest, staring into the other side, it looks much darker and dangerous yet it's no time to go back now after planning for so long for this adventure of yours.

From what you've heard, nocturnal faeries are rather "scary" looking, sharp fangs, horns, scales and just overall roughness, that they're pretty mean although that's debatable since you've met plenty of mean diurnal faeries in your life but oh well, those were just rumours, you don't know what exactly to expect but at least it's one step closer to get friendly with them.

Aside from curiosity, you had another reason for this trip...

A while back, you overheard guards whispering amongst themselves, the trees surrounding the village are growing weaker and need a special kind of pollen to restore their strength but their problem was that the remedy lied within the territory of the nocturnal faeries and they're oh so stubborn to ask for help in that regard, instead, they tasked scholars to find an alternative solution.

If those trees die, everything around them does as well, your village is highly dependent on that but most importantly, the moon flowers on the meadow are of highest concern but what makes them special is that they have healing properties and that they bloom the strongest on the third full moon during the festival, without it, aiding the injured would take longer and finding a healer might end up being too late.

To you, the answer was obvious, to negotiate with the nocturnal faeries, asking for help and offering something in return, it couldn't be that bad... but then again, you've never met an actual nocturnal fae.

As night grows closer, you put on the cloak, trying to blend in, the forest seems so much darker compared to the ones in your territory, the tree leafs rustle in the wind and the owls sing their songs, it's hard to see without a light but if you lit up a light it could alarm the wrong type of creatures, so instead, you depend on the moonlight to guide you.

After walking for an hour, you spot a distant light emitted from a campfire but then you also heard... screeching and growling? you're not sure if you're hearing dangerous creatures or actual nocturnal faeries after all but nonetheless, it's an opportunity to see them up close.

You lower yourself and walk along the bushes to try to get closer till you're close enough to peek through the bushes and see what you've found.

Your eyes widen at the sight, real nocturnal faeries! But from the looks of it, soldiers.

Their masks are put aside and they're resting and talking, you hold in a gasp at the sight, such sharp fangs, piercing eyes with a slit shaped pupils, longer pointy ears and as you've heard, some indeed have scales and horns, the rumours about them looking more rough and predatory certainly wasn't a lie and yet... there was something ethereal about them.

To your confirmation, that growling and screeching is indeed just them talking, such an odd yet curious language, you thought.

You decide to stay hidden and keep observing, clearly, it's very important! You were just about to take out your journal but then you remember just how good of a hearing they have so perhaps alarming them wouldn't be so smart, writing can wait but... if their hearing is that good, what if they already are aware of your presence? No, that can't be, else they would've already noticed by now.

You have a clear goal in mind, observe, plan and negotiate (hopefully), after all, finding the remedy yourself and just taking it would be thievery, so you can't do that, you'd be punished and you aren't exactly fond of that.

You spot a fae much smaller and slimmer than the rest, his skin was a beautiful shade of pale, he had sharp fangs like the rest but his red piercing eyes truly captured your interest, his long hair flowing in the gentle night breeze.

Judging from the way the others interact with him, he seems to be someone highly important but it was difficult to really tell if they'd listen to reason were you to actually approach them, you could make nothing of their screeching.

They truly sounded and looked so different from the faeries you're surrounded by all the time yet you couldn't help but look at them in awe, you want to know more about them and get to know their lives and everything else.

Now stuck in a dilemma, you're sure that approaching them head on wouldn't be the smartest idea, they'd probably just shoo you back to your home but you somehow need to at least befriend one of them.

After some more observing, you internally sigh, it's no use to keep watching them so you slowly back away and try to get away without getting noticed.

Once you successfully get away, you continue to walk deeper into the woods in hopes of spotting the sister tree of the ones surrounding your village but that advantage is cut short very quickly.

One step and suddenly a rope snatches your ankle and pulls you up, dangling you upside down.

You did not expect this whatsoever and now you're stuck hanging upside down, also having made quite the noise with the amount of leaf rustling due to the trap.

Your hair is a mess, the skirt of your dress hanging down, revealing the shorts beneath them, your bag fell down alongside your cloak, letting you wings free and making you less hidden.

You curse inside, trying to figure out what to do now while you meekly tried reaching for the rope holding your leg, your wings flutter in frustration.

"first you're snooping around and now you're stuck dangling like freshly caught prey, I must say... I've never seen your kind venturing into our territory, alone nonetheless" a deep voice from behind suddenly speaks up.

You freeze, unable to look behind you but you can tell that it must be one of the soldiers you saw earlier.

"Such beautiful wings, diurnal faeries truly live up to their names, you look like a soft delicate flower, like something that doesn't belong here"

You feel a hand gently caressing your wing, you gasp and slap him with your wing, it was gentle and didn't harm him but it was enough to startle him and to tell him to stop.

After a moment of silence, he's in front of you and you're met with those piercing red eyes again that you saw earlier, he looks like he's thinking with a stern face.

"Tell me, who are you and what are you doing here?" he asks sternly, leaving no room to back away.

"I'm just here for help, I need something that can only be acquired here!" you say after composing yourself.

"and pray tell what it is you're looking for? Not often does your kind come here, nonetheless all alone like yourself, a bit naive if you ask me" he replied unimpressed.

You huff "I came here with a purpose, thank you very much..." you reply back a little sassy.

He keeps looking at you sternly, letting you know he won't help you if you don't tell your intentions first, very clearly as well.

"Okay look... my village has these special trees with magic and they're growing weaker... there's a certain type of pollen that can make it strong again but the problem is, the sister tree carrying that pollen grows here, in your forest, nowhere else and those trees are super important to us..." you explain and the sigh, talking while hanging upside sure is exhausting.

He hums and then just looks smug "I see how it is, we have a little thief here"

You gasp frustrated "I'm not stealing! I'm here to negotiate with your kind! I was hoping to talk with any of you, get friendly and well, get the pollen since the higher ups refuse too!"

He looks contemplative before responding "I truly don't know if you're naive or actually brave for coming here but let me be clear, you can't just waltz over here, expecting to simply 'talk it out' with the first faerie you see, not to mention, we aren't on friendly terms"

You look a little defeated but still keep your composure "...at least please let me down?"

He sighs and cuts the rope, making you fall down with a groan, slowly getting up and reaching for you bag and cloak.

He watches you gathering yourself and evening out the skirt of your dress and removing a few leafs from your hair before looking at him.

"Look, in case you didn't realise, we're in the middle of a war with the Silver Owls, we don't have time for something like this, we're busy protecting our lands, including yours, so you better fly back home and stay out of danger, let the higher ups handle it" he replies while looking around, listening to his surroundings.

You look frustrated but quickly keep shut once he looks at you sternly once again.

He sighs and looks less serious "I've been gone long enough from the camp, it won't be long till someone comes looking for me, you're lucky you came across me, you should better hurry back home before anything dangerous can happen, I can't protect you just because you decided to have a little adventure here, I have my duties to attend to"

You put on your cloak and bag but before you can go, the nocturnal fae calls out to you again.

"the name's Lilia Vanrouge, general Lilia Vanrouge, in case we cross paths again, little lady"

Clearly he knows just as well as you, that this won't be the last encounter.

Once you reach your home without alarming the guards, you sigh, sitting down on your bed, thinking about your encounter with Lilia, it was a rocky start but you know you'll have to come back.

Nonetheless, you start writing down on your journal, everything you found out so far, but you must admit, despite their rough and predatory features, they are quite handsome.

You smile and put the journal away, getting ready for bed for another day of planning the next move.

"You're finally back, general, was it a Silver Owl?" Baur asks once he sees Lilia return.

"No, just a lost deer, nothing to worry about" he dismisses, before heading to his tent, the feeling of your wings still lingering on his mind.

[astrolook]

💥 The Parts of the Natal Chart That Only Activate in Crisis💥

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home! A single placement or aspect isn't enough to conclude and the whole chart has to be analyzed!

8H personal planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Mars)

These planets don’t activate or play a significant role when ur life’s going well. They show up when you’re stripped, raw, broken open, or deeply connected.

If it's Sun -> It activates when u r experiencing an ego death, an identity crisis, a near-death experience, or being seen too deeply by someone (aka feeling exposed). Your strength doesn’t show up until after you've been humiliated or broken. You unconsciously test people: “Will they still love me when I’m ugly?” You don’t know who you are until life takes everything you thought you were. Finally, you would become someone with nuclear-level confidence, but only after destruction.

If it's Moon -> Ur emotions naturally live underground. It activates when you experience betrayal, heartbreak, ur parent's death, or su*cidal thoughts. Your calmness is often trauma-induced freeze, not peace. Being too close to someone feels threatening to you. You pull people in just to push them out. You absorb other people’s feelings but bury your own like a corpse. You bond through mutual wounds, not joy. Trauma familiarity > comfort. You don’t cry often, but when you do, it’s a full exorcism. Finally, your intimacy with someone would feel like a rebirth, but after a mental breakdown.

If it's Venus -> It activates after loss of ur innocence, through heartbreak, abuse, betrayal/ cheating and trauma bonding. Often triggered by transformational love or a long period of abstinence. You r terrified of shallow connections, so u knowingly get into toxic dynamics. Sometimes, you test love by destroying it to see if it survives. Once you heal, you become dangerously attractive. People feel you’re real because you’ve died for love and survived.

If it's Mercury/ Mercury Rx -> It activates through revelations, true colors of the people around you, manipulation and secrets exposed. Often explodes when things are unsaid for too long. Silence or when u r putting up with things/people. You speak in metaphors/indirectly as reality feels unsafe. You intellectualize pain so you don’t have to feel it. You're scared of being misunderstood, but even more afraid of being fully known. Your thoughts turn self-destructive when not expressed. Once healed, ur voice becomes powerful but only after you’ve used it to destroy something you put up with for way too long or kept under wraps.

2. Chiron conjunct the IC or Moon

You r parented by absence and pain is ur native language. It activates when u move out, when someone loves you well and u panic, after a breakup, or when you go “home” (physically or emotionally) and regress by 10 years. Actually, you don’t remember being comforted, you just remember being managed. You can be hyper-aware of everyone else’s moods but can’t name your own. Need feels like weakness. But you secretly crave someone who doesn’t need you to be strong. Finally, relationships would stop being distractions and start becoming mirrors. You start learning that healing isn’t fixing, it’s feeling. It's about recognizing that it was never your fault that you were wounded in the first place.

3. 12H planets (Sun, Mercury, Mars)

If it's Mercury/Mercury Rx -> You think in full novels but speak in broken drafts. You can articulate everyone else’s problems except ur own. You lie by omission, not to manipulate others but to stay safe. Silence is easier than risking misunderstanding. You keep secrets from yourself and dissociate mid-convo. When u go thru a mental breakdown, nobody would know. Finally, when activated, you either become a psychic, a poet, a writer, or someone who never speaks again. Your choice.

If it's Mars -> You let people cross boundaries because you can’t find your ‘no’ fast enough. You explode alone. Then say nothing in person. When you finally express anger, you scare yourself. You express rage in slow motion. Finally, when activated, you take up space and will learn to say 'NO'. You won't put up with BS anymore or won't let anyone walk over you.

If it's Sun -> You feel invisible to yourself. Compliments feel fake. Criticism feels like truth. Your sense of self is more fantasy than experience. You learn from others' mistakes. You don't know what you want in life but you KNOW what you don't want. You stand for everyone except yourself. You don’t feel proud of anything unless someone else says it first. You disown yourself. Finally, when activated, you would stop managing ur visibility. You will start saying what you mean. You won't care if you come off messy, loud, or bitchy but it will be real than ever.

4. North Node in the 4th/8th/12th

In the 4th -> Every success would start to feel emptier the more you ignore ur home life/emotions. You over-function in crises and under-function in your own healing. It activates when career feels like a prison, when u want to cry alone in a locked room, when silence is the only thing that feels honest. After healing, you won't give a sh!t about others' opinions about ur life and start living true to yourself and become the "home" you always wanted to have.

In the 8th -> You r not secure, just armored. You keep it “light” in relationships to avoid losing control. The universe will rip things away from you until you stop gripping. You can’t bypass emotional death with logic and self-help books. Healing lives in surrender. The version of you that survives will not be the same. Being witnessed while transforming is the real shadow work.

In the 12th -> Here, stillness makes you panic and silence feels like failure. You r scared of being ordinary. You're addicted to fixing yourself but you've never actually stopped long enough to feel yourself. You’ll try everything but surrender. You believe in healing, but don’t trust the parts of it that can’t be tracked. You’re haunted by the part of you that you’ve never dared to meet. Even if u resist, your transformation will come anyway. You r here to return to "source". You will realize it thru your dreams and visions and it will take u on a path that's beyond ur comprehension.

5. Saturn conjunct Moon

For u, neediness = weakness. So you built a structure around your heart. A moat. A fortress. A goddamn prison. When someone tells you, “It’s okay to feel that way,” and you freeze like they’re speaking a language you forgot. It activates when your coping mechanisms start looking like self-abandonment. You never learned how to feel freely, you learned how to hold it together. You r emotionally mature for sure but you r emotionally underfed too. Once activated, you stop holding the world together and will start holding yourself. You will stop chasing strength and start chasing softness. You give your inner child the safety they never had and that changes everything.

6. A 6H stellium

Seriously, the toughest of all. You didn't choose the grind. The grind chose you. You r the system. The function. The routine. Until one day…you break. It activates when u realize that you planned your entire life around what others need from you or how you can provide them. It activates when a health crisis forces you to stop “pushing through.” When you realize you’re more familiar with structure than softness. People would call you reliable, not soft. Be honest! Don't you have coping routines, backup routines, and burnout recovery routines? You attract problems and solve them to feel useful. Finally, when activated, you will realize that that structure isn’t supposed to punish you, it’s supposed to protect you. You will rewrite your routines around what nourishes you and makes you truly happy. You will no longer feel the need to fix others.

I left some placements as I can't write everything in a single post. Will do a part 2 if u guys want one.

💌For readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

[cienie-isengardu]

Glad I could help!

As the limited examples of mandalorian art offends me on personal level, I decided to dig deeper in the lore 🤣 Thought it may interest you so sharing what I found so far:

(TCW) Satine's outfits

Mandalorian Vault (in which Maul was kept)

(isn't it interesting that Mandalorians decided to decorate something that was used as prison for enemy Force users?)

Marvel Star Wars (1977, issue 68) - Mandalorian camp

Death Watch Manifesto - the mandalorian gods

AotC novel - Jango's tattoos

Jango Fett walked in, dressed in simple shirt and trousers. Obi-Wan recognized him immediately, though he was many years older than the oldest clone, his face scarred and pitted, and unshaven. His body had thickened with age, but he was still physically imposing, much like many of the old gutter dwellers Obi-Wan encountered in far-flung places. A few extra pounds, sure, but those covered muscles hardened by years of tough living. Tattoos crossed both of Jango's muscular forearms, of a strange design that Obi-Wan did not recognize.

The Old Republic game - daggers

(TCW) Satine's Coronet

Additional information & observations

Star Wars The Clone Wars Incredible Vehicles stated

Nothing But the Best Passengers in the Coronet's crown walk through halls fitted with Jakelian tuft-oak, lapis from Draboon, and carpets from the looms of Harswee - the very best the Mandalorian worlds have to offer. Attendants in tasteful livery and servants droids are ready to cater to guests' every need.

From Death Watch Manifesto we learn:

"Remember that some of the greatest Mandalores were born or grew up far from our homeworld. Mandalore the Binder was born the son of a rug weaver on Harswee […]"

According to The Essential Guide to Warfare

"Other worlds were spared: The Jakelians, for one, welcomed their new Mandalorian overlords […]"

and

"Mandalore the Ultimate's decision swelled the clans' ranks with humans, Mandallians, Jakelians, and other Mandalorian vassals."

The same source (supported by Death Watch Manifesto) mentioned also the social hierarchy in mandalorian society - warriors as the ruling class, supported by farmers, artisans and manufactures.

Which is an interesting detail, because the fancier and detailed craft could be make first by the vassals to ancient Taung-Mandalorian warriors and later by the lower social classes in more modern times? As in, the art was commissioned by warrior clans, kinda like Scythian aristocracy commissioned Greek artisans to produce luxury items for them, leading to a blend their respective styles?

(Personally, I think the original Scytho-Siberian art would fit well Taung-ancient Mandalorians).

The Old Republic game adds to lore with Mandalorian Relics: The Final Blade of Dunesa Rul:

Born on an unremarkable planet in the Outer Rim, the boy who would become Master Dunesa Rul apprenticed with the local metalsmith to provide additional income for his family. Accounts of his early life learning the trade are few, but historians agree that Rul showed exceptional natural skill and quickly outgrew the simple routine of the frontier smithy who taught him. Seeking more significant challenges, Rul found work at several smithies across the Core Worlds. The quality of his weapons gained recognition among the Mandalorian clans, and with their patronage, he opened his own forge at a remarkably young age. Rul's creations, prized within the Mandalorians, were often handed down from one clan leader to the next, but demand for new work was overwhelming. Rul was killed in an explosion during an altercation between Clan Mettir and Clan Ironstone, who sought to lay claim to a masterwork weapon--a durasteel dagger--he had created. Both clans were hunted down and destroyed in retaliation for the grievous loss. The dagger itself was never found.

So we have an example of Mandalorian warriors' patronage and punishing those who contributed to the destruction of great quality weapons (art) and artisan.

Also, it is worth to note that Satine and Tal Merrik, the two Mandalorians with ornamented clothes, are part of aristocracy and came from Kalevala. In contrast, lore noted Mandalore is the homeland of Pre Vizsla and Almec and despite their high social & political positions both men wore much simpler outfits than Duchess and Prince. Which frankly seems like a common thing with people of Mandalore who barely use ornaments beside the common pattern resembling mandalorian armor??

Thus I think it is worth to ask, how much common are the patterns seen on Satine's outfits and inside Coronet? Could it be just a specific Kalevala art style?

P.S., your repeating mando patterns look cool!

Doodling more repeating mando patterns.