#cruel summer was actually a lot better than i was expecting

[queer-n-here]

UHM-UHM-

Yeah I have no shame to just not ask anonymously- anyways!

May I please request a 6'1 reader who is stoic, bold, also handsome as Dazai but ain't a womaniser, and is VERY quiet. With Dazai. He works at the ADA with him. He follows Dazai around like literally, he acts and opens up more to Dazai than he does with others, he literally doesn't care if Dazai was In the pm (they met at 14) or abt his crimes, he can read Dazai's emotions And can see through him, they R lovers, he is loyal asf to Dazai. He Also is rich asf and has better fashion tastes! Pls make both a oneshot or hc or ANYTHING ABT THEMMMMM

(I'm very desperate BC of a certain fantasy of mine)

Ah, I gotchu you bruv.

[ Also, let's do a little quiz. What country do y'all think I originate from? Like, based on my language and writing and just... Yeah.]

And yep, I'm double posting today!

Canonically, there are no mentions of Dazai's past before the Port Mafia, so I made stuff up. Hope you like it!

Contents: Uhh...a lot. I got... *winces* I got carried away.

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, suicide and violence, Dazai's life is sad and so are these hcs.

You and Dazai met when you two were 14 each. It was a chance encounter, really. Both of you were orphans, and both of you were ability users, even though Dazai knew more about his ability than you did yours.

Both of you currently had no one in the world. That was the key factor that brought you two together. Struggling to get by and find a place of your own in the world, you met.

Neither of you opened up at first, cautious and calloused as you both were. It just happened; it didn't happen one particular day, and before you two had realized, you'd become each other's sole support.

You turned fifteen, and three months later Dazai met Mori.

He told you about it later, describing in the sort of detail no one else would get to hear how he'd rescued the Port Mafia leader from an enemy gang, unintentionally impressing him and securing Dazai a place in the Mafia.

You didn't like it. The job was dangerous, and you didn't want Dazai's hands to get stained with blood. When you told him this, he laughed it off, and said that he could handle it. You dropped the matter.

He was wrong.

You watched as Dazai changed, despite his promises and assurances. He grew ruthless, cruel in a way that made you ache as you watched him, silent. He started hating everything, even himself, and sometimes you thought he hated you, too.

He had a beautiful heart, you knew. But Mori was destroying it.

You talked to Mori about it, too. You might not have anything on him, yes, he was richer and way more powerful, but you had your ability, and you were ready to fight to death. Before you could, however, Dazai intervened.

That was the first time you two fought. After that, you went to him and told him you wouldn't care if he didn't want you to. If he wanted to keep going down the path that he'd chosen, you wouldn't stop him.

Sometimes, you look back and wonder if there was something you could have done for him other than what you did. You still can't think of anything.

You opened up a small business after that, and it slowly grew to a scale larger than you had expected.

Then you two turned eighteen. Finally, you were able to register your enterprises under your own name, being a legal adult. You and Dazai got wasted that night, and you watched fondly as he tried and failed to put his coat on so you two could go and meet Ango and Odasaku.

They had probably begun then, your feelings for Dazai. You were only comfortable enough with him to actually talk, and not just say what was absolutely required and then shut up.

He knew you in a way no else did. No one else knew what it looked like when you smiled, or threw your head back and laughed freely. No one else knew what it was like when you cared, when you brought over Dazai's favorite refreshing drink every time you visited him in summer. Or when you helped him change his bandages, touch gentle and careful against his soft skin.

And you knew him the way no else did. No one else knew what it was like when he was genuine, when he'd look up at you with earnest eyes. No one else knew what it was like when he flushed slightly, the red of his skin always starting from the tips of his ears and descending to his cheeks. No one else knew what it was like when Dazai protected, when he offered to use his contacts in the Mafia to get rid of your competitors, even though you declined every time. He had enough blood on his hands without you pitching in.

Eight months after that, he left the Port Mafia. He came to your apartment crying that day. His face was ashen, his shirt was covered in blood and his lips were trembling. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes for who knows how long finally spilled when he saw you, and the only thing you could do for him in that situation was open your arms and let him cling onto you. He kept saying 'Oda's dead... He's dead...'

That night, Dazai changed. Thankfully for the better. That flame in his eyes was gone now, the one that made you worry if he would burn himself and the world.

Dazai slowly stopped hating after that. You and Ango were the only two he trusted, the only two he would be genuine with. He didn't close up in a way that hid his smile, or in a way that made him withdraw from people. Quiet the opposite. He pushed himself outward, adopting a cheery persona that joked around and bewitched everyone.

The only smiles that weren't created but slid across his face on their own were ones that he smiled with you, and Ango.

You couldn't help but feel slightly bittersweet. Dazai was out of that hellhole, that cursed gang that was making his heart black. But Odasaku was dead.

After that, as your twenties arrived, Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. You were happy, then.

You two celebrated at a lavish restaurant. Your business had grown to be Japan's No. 1, and the money that spilled in with it was something neither Dazai nor you had expected.

But your hopes for the ADA were too high. Sometimes, Dazai still wanted to leave. He said he wanted to kill himself, and even though he would always laugh it off, you couldn't help but notice that his eyes would always grow hollow when he spoke of it.

And so the only thing you could do was love him. You loved him and tried your best to let him know, buying him unnecessary gifts and putting him on top of your mental priority list. Even your staff knew you loved him; it was apparent and obvious.

Dazai was probably the only one that didn't notice it, that genius dumbass.

And so you tried harder. You had never been good with words, but you tried to be vocal about your feelings, telling him he was cute when you thought so, and saying that he looked good when he did.

Dazai still didn't notice. The day he found out was when you got drunk and blurted it out.

You still don't have a lot of memories from that night, and Dazai says that you passed out soon after confessing. He finds it funny now, even though he didn't back then.

Your confession made Dazai pull up a wall against you. This surprised you, hurt you, and you tried apologizing, tried to get him to just talk to you. You told him that it didn't matter if he didn't return your feelings.

Something was hurting Dazai, you could tell. But he just wouldn't talk to you, going so far as to changing his phone number without telling you.

So you showed up at his workplace. Kunukida knew you by sight; you often came to pick Dazai up from work. You two had a big fight, shouting in one hallway of the agency building, making such a ruckus that Ranpo and the others came over to watch.

It ended with Dazai turning around to leave, and you were planning to let him go. But then you saw a tear glisten at his cheek last moment, and hence gave chase.

You chased him down all the way from Yokohoma to Kawasaki, only stopping when Dazai collapsed in the middle of a street, his frame shaking with sobs as he started hyperventilating. You crouched down beside him and pulled him to your chest, rubbing his back and conducting his breathing, your voice soft as it told him to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale....

He fell asleep on your shoulder, in the middle of nowhere. You carried him back to your house, and tucked him into a warm bed. The next morning, he wouldn't meet your eye.

Usually, you would have let him; there was hardly anything that Dazai would do that you would disapprove of. But lately, you had been going against his wishes a lot, so you decided to do that one more time.

When he tried to leave, you pinned him to a wall and forced him to look at you. It wasn't difficult, Dazai had never really worked out, even as a part of the Port Mafia. His fighting style was more quick and clean moves than brute strength.

It worked well in your advantage as he tried to struggle against your hold and failed miserably, tears collecting in his eyes and threatening to fall.

"Dazai," You said. "If you want me to disappear from your life, I can do that." He looked up at you, eyes wide and blurred. "But there's one catch. You have to say it. Say it to my face, tell me to leave, and I swear on my own life, I'll vanish. You won't ever see me again." And then the tear that had been collecting in his eye all this time fell, sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. His arms went limp in your hold, and he wobbled forwards. You caught him as he fell, and he sobbed into your shoulder again. His hands were clutching at your shirt as if for dear life, and even as you rubbed his back, more tears fell from his eyes. You held Dazai through his breakdown. The next time he spoke to you, he said the words, "I like you too much." It was a silent confession, almost muffled into your shoulder as the post-crying exhaustion overtook. You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss into his temple.

It was alright after that. You asked Dazai why he tried to run away, and the only thing he said was that he got scared. He chose not to explain, and you chose not to push him.

Now, everything is good. Dazai's job at the ADA does worry you sometimes, even if it's for the good, it's dangerous, but you know he loves his job, no matter how many jokes he makes about Fukuzawa's violation of the Labor Laws. And he loves you, that's all you've ever needed.

Being in a relationship with him is not always easy. He still speaks of dying, and the thought of him leaving you makes you panic. Sometimes, you still don't know what to do to make him feel better. But you manage to work through it.

You love Dazai, after all. You have ever since you two were kids.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello! I have seen this question debated many times and I wanted to know your take on it cause I find your theories very compelling. Do you think harry should've been in Slytherin? Does he have what it "takes" to be a Slytherin? Is it because of voldemort's soul in him that lead the sorting hat to even suggest he could be in Slytherin? I know this is not one question but I would like to know your opinion on this topic in general!

First of all, thank you for the kind words! 😊

As for the questions, well, you've asked more than one question, but this ask kinda gives me a good reason to talk about how Harry isn't some golden Gryffindor. He actually has some anger issues and he most definitely has what it "takes" for Slytherin.

I'll start with the last question and then go backward, actually.

Did the hat consider Slytherin house just because of the Horcrux?

I don't think so.

I mean, Harry is incredibly clever, magically powerful, and has a cunning streak a mile wide all on his own. I'd actually go as far as to say he's more cunning, ruthless, and resourceful than many of the Slytherins we see in the books. So his own traits definitely are in line with a Slytherin sorting, Horcrux or no Horcrux.

We can try and discern if the Horcrux has an effect on Harry's personality then, and if its influence is seen like that. I'd say that I don't think so either.

Tom and Harry, while they have their similarities, are very different people. They both have a bad temper (although they react to anger differently), but Harry has low self-esteem whereas Tom thinks he is the best (while still hating himself). They're both stubborn, but Tom is much more obsessive than Harry in pursuit of his goals. Harry cares for justice and isn't willing to hurt innocents, Tom doesn't really care about any of that he cares for efficiency. If the Horcrux was influencing Harry's personality, I'd expect to see more similarities between them that go deeper than that.

So, I don't think the hat only offered Slytherin because of the Horcrux. Harry is a Slytherin in his own right.

Does Harry have what it "takes" for Slytherin?

So, I honestly got really excited at the sight of this sentence. See I love Harry, that's no secret. But one of the things I love about him is that he isn't the perfect noble hero. He can be angry, and cruel and ruthless. But he has a sense of justice, he wouldn't wish harm on someone innocent, but someone who did harm to him, or was mean to him or someone he cares for... then Harry can be terrifying when he wants to be.

So, now I'm going to go through some (I have so many more examples of this, and the examples here are mostly books 1-5 since that's what I had on hand) of my collection of quotes showing Harry Potter's vindictiveness and anger.

Harry's response to "have a good summer" at the end of his first year:

“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer.…

(PS, page 221)

This is Harry's (very justified) vindictiveness we see towards the Dursleys many times in the books. He uses the idea of magic to scare them and is gleeful at the thought of Dudley's fear. Harry is very much chill with vengeance.

“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

(PoA, page 435)

Same as above, just Sirius Black as the threat instead of magic.

Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didn’t want it to look as though he was too worried.

(GoF, page 25)

Harry can and does lie and conceal information, even from people he trusts (like Sirius) if he thinks it'll be better not to tell them something. Whether that is for his own image or for what they would think.

“Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?” It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines. “We were — we were —” Ron stammered. “We were going to — to go and see —” “Hermione,” said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him. “We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, “and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —” Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice. “Of course,” she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye.

(CoS, page 259)

And he clearly can lie well, even at 12.

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules. He wasn’t following Dudley’s diet, and he wasn’t going to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup, not if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath and then said, “Okay, I can’t see the World Cup. Can I go now, then? Only I’ve got a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know — my godfather.” He had done it. He had said the magic words. Now he watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon’s face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream.

...

He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. He could almost see the cogs working under Uncle Vernon’s thick, dark, neatly parted hair. If he tried to stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn’t go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and tell Sirius, who would know Harry was being mistreated. There was only one thing for Uncle Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion forming in his uncle’s mind as though the great mustached face were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as blank as possible. And then — “Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy . . . this stupid . . . this World Cup thing.

(GoF, page 33)

Again, vindictiveness and manipulation of Vernon through fear. Not only that, but Harry can keep his calm and keep his face blank even at 14 for the sake of getting something he wants.

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” said Harry. “C’mon, Ron. . . .” “Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?” “You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — “that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?” Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.” “Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away.

(GoF, page 204)

Harry has a bark (all of the above quotes are Harry having a bark). He can and does shoot back as good as he gets.

Harry isn't all bark though, he's got a bit. Harry's anger is palpable and so very real and I love seeing it:

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”  He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, page 30)

Again, Harry has his vindictive strike. (Obviously, Marge had it coming, but that's also what Harry is thinking).

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(PoA, page 339)

“You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, page 341)

Harry, at 13, was fully willing to kill who he believed led to his parents' deaths. And more:

So what if he had to kill the cat too? It was in league with Black. . . . If it was prepared to die, trying to protect Black, that wasn’t Harry’s business. . . .

(PoA, page 342)

He's willing to kill Hermione's cat if it stands in his way.

Harry stood there, feeling suddenly empty. He hadn’t done it. His nerve had failed him. Black was going to be handed back to the dementors.

(PoA, page 343)

Harry Potter, at 13, laments that he didn't have the nerve to kill Sirius himself. He thinks he should've killed himself. He sees it as a failure that justice would be served by someone other than him.

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, page 300)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, page 347)

The above quotes are both situations Harry was willing and wishing to curse people. Even Crucio Snape. He's not as noble and righteous and golden as many fans and characters in the books make him out to be...

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OotP, page 11)

And sometimes, Harry wishes for an excuse to fight. An excuse to take his anger out on someone. (He has a lot of anger in him)

Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle. “Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.” “Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,” said Harry out of the side of his mouth.

(OotP, page 260)

He's threatening and witty.

“Oh no,” said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. “Oh, that was horrible. And he [Gwamp] might kill them [the centaurs] all. . . .” “I’m not that fussed, to be honest,” said Harry bitterly.

(OotP, page 759)

And when it comes to people he doesn't consider innocent, or ones he doesn't care for, even if they never harmed him, Harry is still vindictive. The centaurs mistreated Firenze and Hagrid, so Harry doesn't really care if Gwamp kills them all.

That being said, he is more concerned about Sirius in the above scene.

And he can and does cast unforgivables easily by the later books:

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again — her counterspell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.

(OotP, page 809)

Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!” A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. The goblin took Bellatrix’s wand, examined it closely, and then said, “Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!”

(DH, pages 152-453)

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, page 502)

So, I think Harry definitely has what it takes. He's clever, he can be ruthless, and he's capable of lying and hiding secrets when he feels it's the best option. He can hide his emotions when he really needs to, even if he rarely does. Actually, only in book 6, Harry starts sharing everything with Ron and Hermione on Dumbledore’s advice. Up to that point, he kept quite a bit to himself. And when someone wrongs him, he can and often will swing back.

And last but not least, should he have been in Slytherin?

So, this is an interesting question, because "should" can have two meanings.

1. Should've for the story — as in what is best for the narrative.

2. Should've for the character — in universe, which house the sorting hat should've picked.

So, for the first one, my answer is no. Gryffindor was the right choice for Harry for the narrative of the books as they are. Gryffindor is essentially the opposite of Slytherin and represents a choice more than just the traits and values the house represents. It represents Harry's choice even though he could've been a Slytherin he chose Gryffindor. And it's a constant choice with every heroic act. (personally, I'm not the biggest fan of equating school houses with morality, but it's effective in creating a clear narrative)

And while not all Slytherins are evil and not all Gryffindors are good, a Slytherin Harry Potter would've resulted in a very different story than what we have. So, for the story we ended up getting to happen the way it did, yes, Harry needed to be a Gryffindor.

For the second, maybe. Personally, I believe people (even if they aren't hatstalls) have more than one house they can fit into. Harry is both a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, and neither of them is more wrong or right for him as a person. I think deciding which one of them is best for him is up to a coin flip (and when in his life the question is asked).

He can be ruthless and cunning like a Slytherin. Selfless and courageous like a Gryffindor. He values justice like a Gryffindor. But he also has the selective loyalty of Slytherin to their own.

Point is, there isn't really a "should", because both suit him and he would’ve done well in both. Do I think Slytherin Harry is an incredibly fun concept to consider? Yes. Did I read way too many fics with this premise and would read more? Yes. Do I think he might've fit into Slytherin better than Gryffindor? Well, not necessarily.

Harry is much quieter than most in Gryffindor, but I think the constant scheming and image-keeping in Slytherin would be exhausting to him. He just doesn't care about all the gossip and politicalizing (something that occasionally leaves him out of the loop also in Gryffindor). So, again, both suit him about equally. The difference is that we get a very different story depending on his house.

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: he was ready to give you the world, except one thing: be the father of your baby

Warnings: angst, hurt, angst, agent whiskey (because he is a trigger warning himself), asshole!agent whiskey, pregnancy, mom!reader

A/N: YAY, finally my first Agent Whiskey story!!! Came up with this idea last night and I was so excited about it. I love angst and he is such a handsome angsty asshole! I hope you guys like it ❤️

2.2k words

The moment Jack lay his eyes on you, he felt different.

He didn't understand it at first, it felt so odd, so foreign, so unexpected. Something he hadn't felt in years and years, not after his beautiful, little family was ripped away from him.

He tried fighting it off, it was his first instinct, he couldn't do that, not after all those years, not after having his heart broken the cruel way it was. But at the same time, everytime you smiled at him, asked him about his day, called his name, something as simple as that, it made him weak on his knees.

That cowboy had it bad. And he had it bad for you.

So he made his first move and invited you out. You accepted.

Three years later, Jack was the happiest man on earth. He had a woman he loved very much by his side, you were gorgeous, so perfect for him, you made him feel so good, so worthy of love, and he treated you like a goddamn princess.

You spent more time in his apartment than anywhere else, he wanted to ask you to move in with him, but it didn't feel quite right yet. One of the reasons was because he didn't actually like living in that apartment, he thought maybe taking you to his ranch would be a lot better. You wouldn't be so busy all the time, the daily routine stress wouldn't be as bad as New York, you would be all the time around nature and things would be fine between the two of you.

But you guys weren't married.

And Jack didn't know what to do with himself when that particular thought crossed his mind. He had never, even considered marrying someone new after he lost his sweetheart. He just couldn't, it would be impossible, he could never replace her.

But then again, whenever he saw you, his heart fluttered and he couldn't help daydream about watching you walking down the aisle with a pretty white dress all for him.

Whenever he was out, he would check jewelry store's windows and picture which ring you would like the best.

Until he finally got the balls and bought one for you. He hadn't proposed yet, he still didn't know how he could do it, but he had made up his mind. He was going to make you his, you would become his sweet, beautiful Mrs.Daniels, his world and nothing could ever come between the two of you.

The night Jack proposed to you, you were both lying on the grass, spending a summer weekend at the ranch, where you two stargazed and made love for what it seemed like hours, and when you felt him move, you turned around just to see him on his knee, a ring box in hands and his pleading eyes, asking you to become his.

And you said yes. You were Jack's and he was yours.

And you would continue to do so, until you began feeling sick. You were sure it wasn't nothing more than just a stomach bug, maybe you were coming down with the flu or something like that as you also felt light headed. You insisted Jack didn't have to take you to the doctor, but he was overly protective and quite stubborn too, so it was better just to let him, instead of trying to talk him out of it.

He held your hand the entire time, as you two waited at the reception and the only reason why he didn't go inside with you was because the doctor insisted you had your appointment on your own.

A few questions asked and a blood exam later, the doctor called you and Jack into the office.

They had the results that neither of you expected: you were pregnant.

Jack's world crashed and collided at that very moment. He felt the ground disappearing from under his feet and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He couldn't do it again, he wasn't ready to lose everything that mattered to him.

He couldn't believe you, out of all the people in the world, you couldn't do that to him.

He had lost a wife and a baby before, and he wasn't going to go through that again. He had said many times he didn't want to be a father, he didn't want to have a baby and he thought he found someone he could rely on, he could trust.

But he hadn't.

No matter how many times you had tried to explain to him you were on birth control and that they could all fail, Jack wouldn't listen to you.

You argued, yelled at each other, he told you so many horrible things to which you replied even more horrible ones.

But the end of the line was when he suggested you get rid of the baby.

You couldn't and you wouldn't.

You had never thought of yourself as a mom, you didn't even think you had the maternity bug in you, but the moment you learned the news you were carrying a little someone inside, someone who would grow to become a baby, and then a beautiful child, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Jack even offered you money, so you would interrupt it. But you didn't even bother answering him. You took off the ring he had given you, placed it back in the box and left it on his pillow and you walked out of the ranch you had called a house once and never returned.

You hadn't seen Jack anymore. But you still felt him around sometimes, you just couldn't tell if it was real or just a product of your imagination. You would catch whiffs of his cologne, or you would glance at a man that looked like him and would simply disappear in the blink of an eye. As your bump grew, the loneliness and the heartbreak were visible. You would smile, but the smile wouldn't meet the eyes.

Still, a small part of you thought and maybe hoped he cared for you, but he never came after you, he had nine months to do so and you had no news.

When you learned you were having a baby boy, you felt a pang in your chest and for a moment you actually worried about what he and other people would think. You didn't want to compete with her, you weren't a replacement of his family, you knew he had lost a wife and a baby boy, and life had given him a bride and a baby boy and he chose to walk away from that. You realize then, you weren't competing with anyone, you were living your life and it was not your fault if someone else lost theirs in such a tragic way. Then, after that realization, your heart filled with nothing but love and pride of you beautiful baby boy. If his dad chose not to be around, he was still a tiny piece of Jack you would keep, to remind you of all the good times you had spent together and the moments you were happy.

When you gave birth to your beautiful baby Wyatt, you thought you had seen Jack. You were almost sure you woke up in the middle of the night and found him in the room. He was dressed exactly the way you saw him for the last time, dark clothes and cowboy hat, and he eyed you and the baby.

You didn't have the strength to say anything to him and you just closed your eyes when you saw him picking up Wyatt so carefully into his arms.

In the morning, the doctors said you had experienced a fever peak through the night, so if it was actually Jack or just a cruel feverish dream, you couldn't tell. You even asked around, but no nurse had seen a cowboy over the nightshift.

Time flew, you never actually believed in that whenever you heard people saying, until you realized the tiny newborn became a bigger baby and that baby turned into a toddler in the blink of an eye.

Life was hard without Jack's financial support, you had to admit that, but you lived a happy life with your son, who painfully reminded you of his daddy. The sweet warm pool of brown chocolate eyes, to the cute curls that grew wide if you didn't give him a haircut every two months, to the smartness in him and his fascination with farm animals.

It was actually kind of funny, Wyatt had never met his daddy, he had barely acknowledged the fact other kids had a father and he didn't have one, and yet, he was just the spitting image of his. Sometimes you wonder what Jack would think of him, if he would be proud, happy or pleased to see his boy and himself were so alike. You still had that feeling Jack was around at times, when you took your son to play dates at the park, when you were out shopping and he waved at someone behind you you couldn't never actually see.

And also the times a mysterious amount of money came in handy whenever you found yourself struggling with some bill.

A tip or a bonus in cash your boss didn't actually know how to explain where that came from or when some of your debts simply had disappeared, but you couldn't track the source of the money. However, you only knew one person who had enough money to actually be able to do such things.

You just didn't understand why Jack did all that, if he was so clear about not wanting you nor your baby you didn't get why he still took some of his time to go after the two of you and not only that, he was also putting money into you. Not every month, like child support but enough so you could be comfortable.

On the weekend, you decided to take Wyatt upstate. He was so excited to go to the small farm, a nice ranch where families could spend the day and see all kinds of animals. Your heart ached as you thought about the time you lived with Jack, if you hadn't gone separate ways, Wyatt would love to live there, play with the animals all day and interact with them. It could have been a different story, for the two of you and also Jack, but it was his choice after all.

The little toddler was so excited as you walked around the entire place with him, you were so patient with your son, holding his little hand and showing him all the animals he wanted to see.

He liked the chickens, the horses, the baby pigs and was so excited, but his little heart raced when he saw a man standing a few feet away.

"Mommy, wook! A cowboy!!!" He squealed excitedly as he still struggled in pronouncing the Rs and let go of your hand, running freely towards the man.

You called his name, but knew it was no use at all, so you forced yourself to run after him. You fastened your pace, worried about losing your little boy in the crowd and froze as you saw your son standing next to a man you could recognize miles away. He was in his typical cowboy clothes and he had one arm wrapped around Wyatt's small body.

He smiled at the little boy, nodding gently at whatever he was saying to him. You looked at them in horror, shaking your head and not understanding why that could be possibly happening.

You took some steps closer and whispered your son's name. Jack immediately looked up at you and smiled softly

"Here's your mama, little one" he said in his thick accent "looking pretty as ever" Jack added and got up, lifting his son up and felt his heart clenched at how tiny arms wrapped around his neck. He trusted him so easily, as he was so sweet and affectionate, without even knowing him, without having a clue he was his dad. Of course that sweetness was all you.

You teared up and swallowed hard, extending your arm to Wyatt who was still mesmerized at the big boy.

"Hat, mama!!" He pointed excitedly at Jack's head and made the older man chuckle.

"I see you are a little cowboy yourself, aren't ya?" He asked and took his hat off, handing it to the little boy and placing it on his head.

He kicked his little legs in excitement and finally agreed to go with you, holding your hand and twirling around in pure happiness.

You didn't have any words to say, you wanted to stay away from Jack, and keep him away from your son, he had rejected you, and now he had no right to claim either of you.

You immediately took Wyatt's hat off and shoved it back to Jack. He only stood there, disappointment in his eyes but he understood it.

"It was nice seeing you, sugar. You're looking gorgeous as ever" he said but you only gave him your back and walked away from him.

Jack had lost his first family and out of fear, he lost his second one too, because he was a coward, he was a bad man and he would have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

_____

A/N: of course my first Agent Whiskey piece had to be an angst one. I hope it was alright ❤️

[n7punk]

“Slipstream” Fic Notes

Slipstream is done after growing far beyond the “simple hacker fic” concept and honestly Mara’s so cute I can’t even be mad. Fic notes below.

Playlist:

I’ve got the playlist here, but other honorable mentions I listeded to on repeat during this just because I wanted to: The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn’t album by XANA (it dropped in May and that shit is still on repeat), SUCKERPUNCH album by chloe moriondo (for chapter 6), PVRIS’s entire discography (I was going through something).

The Kicker — XANA

Good Luck, Babe! — Chappell Roan

Diet Heartbreak — chloe moriondo

TRAUMA BOND — poutyface

Albi — XANA

Rly Don’t Care — chloe moriondo

Chaos Is Love — K.Flay

Teenage Nightmare [unreleased demo]

What’s My Age Again? — Emilia Ali

Late Bloomer — Allison Ponthier

Holy Revival — Maisie Peters (ignore the verses)

Femininomenon — Chappell Roan

Mercury In Retrograde — Avril Lavigne

NIGHT IN JAIL — Rachel Bochner

my best friend’s ex — emlyn

Even If It Kills Me [unreleased demo]

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl — Chappell Roan

Sirens (feat. Sophie Powers) — MOTHICA

Homewrecking Era — XANA

Obsessed (feat. Ashley Sienna) — Sophie Powers

Obsessed — Astrid S

Look At Her Now — Selena Gomez

Pretty Girls — Renee Rapp

Cruel Summer — Taylor Swift

Picture You — Chappell Roan

Epilogue Life:

It takes a few months for Catra to feel like she has any handle on “parenting” or any right to even think that term about herself when she’s still a newcomer to Mara’s life, but Mara has accepted her at that point, it’s Catra and her own lack of a parental figure that is stopping her. She never would have accepted someone trying to come in and parent her after being so jaded from the first few years of her life (see her  relationship with Adora’s parents in high school), so she’s expecting Mara to be a lot more hesitant and take “convincing”. She wants to give her the time she needs, but Mara had a loving parent growing up and doesn’t see adding Catra to that role as a bad thing.

Mara also has a little kid understanding of the world, so to her the instant Catra and Adora are dating she’s her stepmom, not because it’s that easy, but because obviously dating = will get married, so there is no point “fighting” something that is inevitable. Even though her parents don’t talk to each other, it doesn’t occur to her that people break up under normal circumstances. Her dad has hurt her mom and her a lot, he’s a bad guy, and Catra isn’t that, so why would she ever leave. They’re both girls and gay, they have no need to breakup. Life isn’t that simple, but it does make their relationship transition pretty smooth from Mara’s perspective.

Catra still insists on the stepdad thing and it becomes a family joke. Catra tells Mara it’s because it would be too confusing if they were both mom and Mara accepts that without question, because she is actually right. The reasons for stepdad are multi-layered, like this addition which helps Mara accept it: Mara wants someone good to replace the force of rejection and imbalance her bio dad was, so she’s more than happy to have Catra take that mantle instead. Catra wants to replace him as well, for many reasons including her own selfish hatred of him, but also her own insecurity. She knows she can be a better parent than Falcon, but she doesn’t think she can ever be equal to Adora and thus an equal mom. Adora’s parents weren’t 100% wrong when they mentioned the butch thing either because it is my headcanon Catra is a little GNC at times. Not really anything deep or strong enough for her to identify any particular way, just something that means she wouldn’t mind stepdad or “sir” even without all those other layers. Eventually a lot of those factors stop seeming like such a big deal but at that point it is just a family joke that never really dies. Occasionally once she’s in high school Mara calls her mom, but mostly Catra is “Dad” or “my stepdad” when being referred to singularly, and then when Mara is referring to both her parents she calls them “my moms”. Which does confuse people and Catra finds that funny.

When Mara is in high school and the age Adora and Falcon were when they started dating, Falcon finally tries reaching out again. That was a phone call Adora never wanted to get, but he’s not coming back to the country — he does still have those debts waiting for him, after all, and unable to pay them back, the stress would take him right back to that mental state he fled — and he’s not trying to rejoin their lives, he just kind of wants to know what happened after he left. Adora is angry and tells him he doesn’t have the right to know that after what he did — and she’s right — but later she still regrets it and, after talking to Catra (who also tells her she was right and she shouldn’t call him back and open that door back into their lives for him, but sits by her side when she’s on the phone to support her when she insists on going through with it), she calls him back. She only gives him the very high level stuff: she started dating someone right around when he disappeared, and they’re married now and happy, and she has become Mara’s new stepdad — something Falcon thinks she says as a pointed jab not knowing that’s really what Mara calls her — and Mara is doing well despite Falcon messing up her sense of trust and safety as a little kid, and definitely doesn’t need him fucking with her again by trying to contact her now. Adora makes it clear this is a courtesy she is giving him with the understanding that, now she has volunteered the information, he isn’t going to seek any more out or bother them.

That holds kind of true. He checks in with Adora around high school graduation just to make sure Mara made through it okay — he can’t help but remember around this time he was ruining both their lives — and to see if she plans to go to college, which she does, and then he calls again three years later just to see if she’s still on that track, which she is. He never calls again and Adora never knows if that’s because he moved on, or got closure, or lost their number, or died. Mara knows he called to check in on her once or twice but Adora didn’t tell her until she was an adult because she worried about reintroducing all that old uncertainty and fear back into her life, and at least now no one can force her to see Falcon if she doesn’t want to.

Catra seriously considers hunting him down after he goes dark, but she has done what she can to close the illegal chapter of her life and she knows Adora wouldn’t be happy with her reopening it — especially when she’s a little rusty — for their own closure with him. Catra didn’t exactly succeed in turning over a new leaf overnight, but she did greatly reduced her law-breaking, leaving only little slip-ups that happened every few months until she managed to stretch a gap long enough for it to become permanent, the impulse no longer second nature and her episodes of feeling untouchable either more rare or focused on something other than being unafraid of the government. She does stay in the cybersecurity sector professionally for a long time and works alongside Entrapta several times throughout the years.

I’ve kind of talked about this before and even included it in the concert scene, but Catra and Entrapta do kind of keep  referring to each other as partner occasionally and honestly neither of them are really sure how they mean it. They never formally said “QPR over”, they said “no more physical affection (sex)” and they remained very close, though it felt like it did end more definitively when Catra eventually moved in with Adora. That took her longer to do than it usually does in AUs due to both her happiness/comfort with Entrapta, trying not to “upset” Mara by forcing the change on her, and Catra still needing the ability to get distance from them for the night sometimes while dealing with her own demons, but those slowly disappear as Mara lets her heal her own childhood and she sees she can be a good parental figure with experience.

Chapter 1:

⦁ “Slipstream” was once again a temporary placeholder name that became permanent. It’s a reference to the hacker Slipstream, one of the names behind the Nintendo gigaleak.

⦁ Entrapta’s daily energy drink limit is by no means her daily average, but any day drinking seven energy drinks is a bad one. She doesn’t actually drink Monster every day… Just like 95% of them. And she is a lot more likely to drink 1-3 than 5.

⦁ Okay I’m like half bullshitting the tech speak in this fic. The 20 minute decryption Waffle House thing? Yeah that’s actually optimistic. The kid who hacked the CIA did that exact thing and took 30 minutes to log on and he still eventually got caught.

⦁ Close followers of my Tumblr will already know Adora Maria is reference to some terrible  “wrong” trivia answers to a question about She-ra’s names.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Steps (loosely): 1) Identify absolutely necessary files and save them, 2) Paste contents of other important word/text files into empty cloud documents she can download later (cleaning metadata), 3) Create a new encrypted email on a totally different machine (in this case, Catra’s clean laptop she had with her), 4) Forward absolutely necessary emails to new address (being very selective), 5) Delete what accounts it’s reasonable to just nuke, 6) Completely wipe computer and reset it, 7) Change first the associated email and then the password of all other accounts in a closed environment (Catra’s laptop) and turn on two-factor for absolutely everything that has the option, 8) When all information has been reset, delete old email in closed environment as insurance.

⦁ Adora’s scent changed some with pregnancy and then the rest with lifestyle changes.

⦁ Mara comes out to check on them because Adora told her an old friend from high school was coming over and she wasn’t making the happy sounds she makes with her friends. When she realized Adora was stressed she got worried, doubly so when she said it was grown-up stuff, because that grown-up stuff could be Mara-related — especially since she knows Falcon is causing problems with child support even if Adora tries to keep her from hearing about it too much — which is why Adora invited her out to see it’s really okay.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Originally when I wrote the group chat there was nothing differentiating who was speaking, but I had the idea to use emojis like profile pictures to make it more clear. The scorpio icon was originally head-in-the-clouds (high af emote), the star was originally just a sassy emote, and the dragon changed the same. I ended up changing them because a reader sent an ask letting me know that the emotes wouldn’t translate to epub format and the Scorpio and star “emote” are part of the standard unicode colored symbals, so I’m hoping they’re included, but I also don’t have any way of checking without just uploading the thing so this was my best effort. I kept the dragon even though it’s not included because I was too attached and only one person missing an icon would at least differentiate it from the others still.

⦁ Adora named Mara after her old teacher Mara because she was the only out lesbian she (knew) she had ever met. She was pretty quiet about it to not get harassed by parents, but she wasn’t about to lie about it, and she would talk about Hope when prompted. Adora admired that back in high school thinking she just Respected Her Ideals™️ and later realized it was more than that.

⦁ Catra’s conflicting feelings looking at Mara hugging Adora’s hip are actually less because she’s remembering her father and more remembering she was doing that to feel safe and she doesn’t like to think she’s making a kid feel unsafe too.

⦁ Adora’s habit of rubbing at her tattoo (versus something like the back of her neck) started when it itched a lot while healing. She has terrible tattoo discipline and really shouldn’t get another one because she couldn’t leave it alone.

⦁ You might be able to tell here, but originally Mara was intended to be older (8-ish or something) but I didn’t want them to separate that long. The timeline is already kind of screwy because even with Adora a year older Mara should actually be four with pregnancy time, but shhhhhh.

⦁ Oh my god I wish more people knew the difference between the deep web and the dark web. People act like they’re interchangable when Facebook qualifies as the deep web. Catra is a deep web miscreant, not the dark web.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Perfuma doesn’t know they’re cyber criminals but given the jokes about felonies she can guess that’s the only thing that makes sense, and then she elects not to think any more about it because they’re really important to Scorpia and she wants plausible deniability.

⦁ Obviously Catra hadn’t said Adora’s name yet, but Adora is such an Entity in her mind it feels like everybody should think about her as much as Catra does.

⦁ Perfuma would have to be totally oblivious to not pick up from the conversation that Catra had a crush on Adora in high school, and knowing what she does about Adora’s comphet she just kind of assumes it was the classic “crush on a straight girl” that went nowhere until Catra left school. She’s not about to embarrass Catra by bringing that up to Adora, but if she knew how serious it was and had a hunch how Adora felt she might interfere.

⦁ Table break lore. I wouldn’t say this is a reference so much as a shared headcanon that previously came up allllllllllll the way back in Drawn Into The Music, where Scorpia breaks a table trying to lean on it while drunk because Biceps.

⦁ Mara’s set up is basically what I had as a kid. When we were little we had the “kid computer” which belonged to someone back in the day when it was actually considered a good machine. It didn’t have internet and was just for playing games (which were all offline at that point in time). When we got old enough for the internet we had a  software that only let us browse for like 30 minutes each day and I think had an automatic filter of inappropriate sites? If it did, the site list was very minimal and I never ran into any issues personally, but a software that blocks pornhub isn’t a bad thing for a five year old to have even if I’m generally against online surveillance lmao. It’s not making a list of sites she visited for spying purposes or anything, and generally Adora tries to be in the room with her when she’s online (in-game or not) because you know. Super young. She’s really busy though and sometimes has to rely on the idea that the parents of Mara’s friends are doing the same thing and monitoring them so they can keep safe. That is not always true.

⦁ Adora tousles Mara’s hair and pets her so much because that became one of the ways she knew how to express affection with Catra and now it’s just ingrained as a part of her.

⦁ Semi-related, she and Catra didn’t actually meet until middle school in this ‘verse and had about five years together before Catra’s breakdown.

⦁ Adora’s tattoo is the season one sword in a deep maroon and then the gem in the center of the hilt is the sunset ombre from the lesbian flag. Catra just thought the lines were black because she couldn’t see that shade of red.

⦁ “The breakup” here is code for “uncomfortable sex experience”.

Chapter 5:

⦁ Catra was about to say she doesn’t get on her knees unless a pretty girl asks nicely before her brain caught up with her mouth.

⦁ Adora was absolutely not going to interrupt because she was smitten watching them interact. She never in her wildest dreams thought Catra would do more than tolerate her child at best, but she forgot the factor of her kind of outweighed the factor of child.

⦁ Uhhhh. So. Alright fuck it. Catra was in a mania fit when she broke into the mall. That can come from a couple things and I’ve experienced it once I think, but yeah she really should be on mood stablizers and just refuses to see a professional about it. Once her life stabilized and she essentially had Entrapta as a safety net, knowing she wasn’t going to kick her out if her work lapsed, it made things a lot easier, but her constant vigilance against authorities could just as easily be seen as appropriate vigilance as it is paranoia (primarily socially-unacceptable anxiety).

⦁ Catra doesn’t know how to categorize her emotions outside of bad criteria so any strong emotion gets categorized as “breakdownable” or not but that’s definitely not what she’s feeling here, having emotions just feels like she’s dying.

⦁ Bella Sara supremacy !! 🗣️🗣️I don’t think it was available on the Vita lol but it was in THIS universe.

Chapter 6:

⦁ Catra was, subconsciously, still trying to delay the inevitable of Adora and Entrapta meeting by meeting with Adora and Scorpia downstairs. When they finally came home and it was time, Catra basically tried to get everyone settled in the living room and her own bedroom without “bothering” Entrapta, but she did vaguely greet them when they got home. Their first real conversation was the one in the bed, though.

⦁ Adora is the type of drunk to try to perpetuate her own existence. If you look away from drunk Adora for a second she’s doing another round of shots and trying to get herself hospitalized.

⦁ “Adora shouldn’t be worrying about this” yeah this reaction has nothing to do with cheating, Catra, that’s just all she can do with her jealousy reasonably.

⦁ The Scene (1)

⦁ Belgian Boys mini pancakes my beloved

⦁ Okay so “cheating” per se isn’t so much a thing in their relationship, but by the idea that there are rules and they have an understanding which involves not messing around with other people without notification/permission, then yes cheating is a thing. It would  be shitty for Catra to do anything without letting Entrapta know she intends to, which is the entire point of the fun pass.

Chapter 7:

⦁ Catra didn’t really have a sex addiction or anything she was just really, really lonely, knew people found her hot, and needed reasons to stay at other people’s places, so it ended up as a perfect storm.

⦁ “Put the kid on and let me talk to her” from Catra “I’m just tolerating the kid” Meow Meow.

⦁ Yes I know that “bludgeoning weapon” was not at all correct. But it sounded good, and that’s what writing is sometimes.

⦁ “She tells herself Mara would miss her gifts and then immediately questions why she needs to tell herself anything at all.” Idk Catra I think Mara might miss you as a little more than a gift-giving source. She might be really broken up by you not coming around. (You would also miss her but I’m not even going to pretend you’re open to that idea)

⦁ IDK CATRA MAYBE THE KID WANTED TO BE AROUND AND TRUSTED BY YOU. IDIOT

⦁ The Scene (2)

Chapter 8:

⦁ Turnabout’s fair play and we’ve gone from Adora thinking she can’t stay over to Catra thinking it. These two lesbians just need to accept they’re equally needy.

⦁ “Hoodwinked” agenda !! In all seriousness I haven’t watched it in years so I’m not sure if it holds up, but I loved that movie as a kid and so did my mom. I watched it so many times.

⦁ “Tax-free” is in reference to the final line of the chapter, where Catra has some (minor) dues to pay for how she has lived her life, but it’s nothing more serious than what she has already done, because as awful as she often thinks herself, most of what she did was just surviving under hard circumstances.

Chapter 9:

⦁ Adora has it right with Falcon. To him, he and his girlfriend had sex bad enough for her to realize she was gay (he was not being a good partner for that because he didn’t notice she was uncomfortable, he was just thinking three years together made it about time), he suddenly has a kid at only 19, and his now-ex he was planning to marry can’t even look at him. He already had gambling tendencies and really fell on it with the stress of college and navigating the kid situation, and then everything snowballed because the debt got bad enough he couldn’t make tuition and his stress went even further through the roof when he was forced to just get a job to pay what child support he could, and then he starts getting these threats and at that point completely starting over is looking pretty attractive. Whether or not he was in the right has no effect on how his brain was able to handle it and Mara’s inception turned out mildly traumatic for everyone involved.

⦁ “The fact that Adora is right to have her suspicions is annoying.” That’s a little thing called guilt, kitten.

⦁ I don’t know what my thing with Albuquerque is but whenever I think of someone going into hiding/leaving the country I think of them doing it there. I’m sure it was used in some piece of media I consumed when I was young and that’s where it came from because to my knowledge it’s not an international flights hub.

⦁ Glimmer is one of those people who will drop in the group chat like hey who wants to see a show in two weeks and then just buy tickets for everyone. This was actually arranged months ago, hence the Star siblings not thinking about the timing and having a conflict, and it was before Perfuma and Scorpia even started dating.

⦁ Melendy Britt was a voice actress on the OG cartoon and like a third of the female characters, playing Adora amongst others. She was recently at the MOTU SDCC panel.

⦁ In most ‘verses I think Catra loves music, she just has a specific history in this AU that makes it a weird thing for her because she knows it was robbed of her but can’t try to get into it now because that’s acknowledging everything she has lost.

⦁ The brain development thing is actually a myth and it varies wildly between people, but Adora’s parents are also the kind to sincerely believe you’re only using 10% of your brain at any given time.

Chapter 10:

⦁ When I was initially figuring out what to do with Falcon, I wasn’t really sure what to do with him. I wanted to get him involved in criminal stuff Catra could uncover so he couldn’t be around Mara anymore, but I was also hesitant to do that because Adora’s life is in a precarious place without the child support. I also didn’t want to make him into this caricature of awfulness when he was once Adora’s longterm boyfriend and thus at least seemed decent. Then I remembered Catra has a tech sector paycheck and I could easily just run him off at that point.

⦁ Honestly, now is probably the time to admit that every third time I went to write Falcon’s name I almost wrote Sea Hawk just because they’re so similar, which makes sense since Falcon was invented to be Sea Hawk’s ex, but it was a struggle the whole fic lol.

⦁ Okay, but what did happen with Falcon and the money/threats? Well, Catra had it pretty right: they were sketchy people, and criminals sure, scammers definitely, but they weren’t actually going to send hitmen after him or anything. He was never in any danger. Leaving the country did actually give him a new leaf though and he was a better person with it, managing to build something even though he was still struggling with his gambling addiction. He wasn’t able to keep any kind of savings going as a result but he at least learned not to spend money he didn’t actually have and get in debt. He managed to find a small pension job and get help for his anxiety, which let him at least a small modest life.

⦁ Mrs. Bee is Sweet Bee.

⦁ I meant to have a conversation about swearing they never ended up having. Basically, Adora vaguely tries to censor herself, but things like “oh stars” come naturally to her from her parents, “fuck” just also comes naturally from everyone else in her life lol. Mara knows kind of what swear words are and that they’re “adult words” you need to be older to understand the impact of, so when Catra (or Adora) does inevitably swear in front of the kid, it’s  not much of a big deal. Catra ends up making it out to be a bigger thing in her head and putting more effort into censoring herself (read: any effort) than Adora does or cares. Eventually they do talk about it when Catra takes a bit more of a parental role in Mara’s life and is trying to figure out what that entails.

⦁ There’s this tendency for people talking to kids to refer to their parents as “your mom” rather than like, their name which you would be using in any other context. Catra has had a secret rule — secret even to herself — that she’s going to keep Adora’s name and not do that “your mom” shit. Well, here she is doing that shit, and it’s because she feels a lot less like she needs to distance herself from Mara — and thus the concept of Adora having kids — than she did at first when Mara quite frankly terrified her.

⦁ “I didn’t remember your phone number-” a straight up lie, “-and I wasn’t about to go back home under any conditions to ask your parents what you were up to,” will turn out to be a lie.

Chapter 11:

⦁ “It’ll even look bad on Mara by the time of their next zoo visit.” Oh? Are you planning to be part of that visit, Catra?

⦁ (I am not personally a big fan of bucket hats but there are times when they look really cute — yes even on adults — Catra’s just a hater)

⦁ Catra’s description of how the magicat crowns work is actually how her mask works on her official doll. In the case of the magicat queens, though, the hooks were more like a fallback because the mask was made to be so perfect against their face its weight was distributed over the entire thing and the small hooks just kept it from getting out of place.

⦁ Catra’s freakout is very funny to me because kids will play with literally anyone they like but Catra has so little experience she thinks this is what fatherhood is. Not that she isn’t a Trusted Adult to Mara but most of her “signs” would be there whether or not they were dating.

⦁ “It’s also partially that she isn’t ever going to be a father to anyone, and thus using it has more joking distance that feels marginally more acceptable.” She’s a dad within six months lmao.

⦁ Being a parent doesn’t come naturally to a lot of people, and Catra is one of those, so for most of the fic you don’t really get to see her in “parent mode”, and I do worry where it leaves off some people will see her as not a good step-parent for Mara, but that’s a slow process for her to reach. The fic would have to drag out a lot longer before it could reach  the point where it’s natural for her. For most of the first year she feels like she’s horribly flailing during every interaction with Mara, and that doesn’t change with this chapter, but she does internally accept that this is a role she’s going to have and wants to take  up, so while she still jokes and occasionally slips up, she does love the kid and is doing her best.

Chapter 12:

⦁ I’m basically picturing the Home Alone house for Adora’s parents but I don’t remember it from the movie, I remember it from the LEGO set. So do with that what you will.

⦁ Marlena knows what she’s doing and she’s just trying to feel Catra out because she never would have pictured her becoming a parent in high school, but she also knows, both logically and from her phone calls with Adora, that Catra has grown a lot.

Original Outline:

I actually have my original idea for the fic still written down from a Discord conversation with a friend so here it is in its entirety:

vague idea is catra + entrapta are a hacker duo and they’re a thing. adora's organization is data compromised, forcing catra to get back in contact with her to help her fix it (vaguer idea is adora works for a nonprofit or something. dont hold me to that) like catra independently finds out there's a security vulnerability and is like fuck i have to be a good guy about this Maybe Catra tries to hack them to spy on adora because she misses her and then she gets way too much way too easily.

So yeah obviously a lot changed. Another idea was that Catra had to protect Adora from people trying to get her for… IDK, something Catra uncovered that Adora didn’t even know she knew (or at least didn’t realized was incriminating enough for people to want to cover it up), but I don’t really like writing action lol.

Everything changed because I had been wanting to write a single mom Adora fic too, just didn’t have anything written for it. In the initial version of Slipstream, I had no background for how they drifted apart, and the comphet backstory for the single mom Adora fic slotted nicely into Slipstream’s empty past, so I combined them so I could write both at once, especially because (as evidenced by how little was in the outline) I didn’t have any kind of ongoing plot after they reconnected that I actually wanted to write (again, action ideas are fun, but not for me to write). The new story gave me a lot more avenues to explore relationship dynamics as a big element for all the characters, and thus gave the QPR more relevance and let me portray something I think is kind of rare. Entrapta’s relationship with relationships in this fic is really personal to me and it kind of stuck out as a little out of place in the old idea, but in this version of the fic it works into the overall themes of relationships, self-denial, and accepting that what satisfies you isn’t necessarily the thing that will make you happiest and that’s worth whatever risks are associated with it.

I want back and forth on the club chapter and the following revolving around a few points: should they actually kiss in the club or just come close, should they kiss in the kitchen, and should they get evolved enough in that kiss for Adora’s hand to reach Catra’s tail. I kind of knew the latter would be too far, but ultimately decided the first two were permissible within their rules.

Meta:

Adora’s floorplan

Upcoming:

Next up will be an OotW oneshot. I’m also working on the Lightbeam sequel fic, and lowkey another AU I’ve been teasing, but I don’t think I'll have time for them before Sapphic September starts and I chip away at some of those prompts, so we'll see what’s going to shove to the forefront first, so stay tuned IG lol

[yeowangies]

Blood Stains

CHAPTER X: If I bleed you'll be the last to know

❧

PAIRING: Raditz/F!Reader RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: Canon Divergence AU, Slow burn, Smut, Enemies to Lovers. WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content. WORDCOUNT: 4791

Summary:

You freeze in place. It has been a month since you had that argument with Raditz. What is he doing here? Even when weeks went by, you’re not sure you’ve cooled off enough to handle this yet. Or at all, since you were positive you would never see his face again.

Notes:

I feel like it's been a year since I've updated this, but it's only been a little over a month. I wrote this chapter like two months ago, and as I was reading this to check if everything is as I want it to be, I realized that I've written something that I wish I had in my life. I'm not gonna go too deep into this but it was weirdly comforting.

Again, I won't know when I'll post the next chapter, I'm currently busy with a lot of irl stuff, but hopefully it's gonna be in less than a month this time!

The lyrics in the title is from Taylor Swift's Cruel Summer. Enjoy!

You can check the tag #*bs if you wanna see the previous chapters.

A confrontation like that was not how you wanted to end things with Raditz. Because it was definitely over after that. You’re certain you won’t see him again. 

You feel it in your bones, he likes staying with you and being with you. He has slept so much better the second time around, and he hasn’t been so tense. What he said hurt and you are still angry, so angry, but it was your fault he stormed out like that, you shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have talked to him as if he was going to break.

Then again, remaining silent didn’t feel right either. Even if you had agreed to only sleep together. 

It was stupid to think you wouldn’t get attached. You never expected this affair to last for as long as it did, which wasn’t even that long to begin with. You even got to know him during his short stay, and even before that when he was staying at Capsule Corp; you know him too much for someone who you were just going to share a bed with every once in a while. 

Lust was how all of it started, but it has transformed into something more, even if you don’t even want to acknowledge it yourself.

Would all that actually change anything?

You purposely had avoided the topic of his stay here on Earth, or about the Saiyans, before that day. But he said some things and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Nothing feels right, and you feel like punching a wall. Which would probably hurt less than when you slapped him, it’s like his face was made of steel. 

You know for sure Raditz won’t ever come back, and you get more used to the idea as days pass by. It doesn’t hurt any less, though, and your heart feels tight whenever you dwell on it. 

“I’m staying at Kame House for a few days, do you wanna come along?” Bulma asks over the phone one afternoon, in a cheery tone.

You haven’t told Bulma anything about Raditz at all; keeping it a secret was for the best, or so you thought. You were regretting it a bit now, all your emotions were bottling up inside and that couldn’t be good. But you’re not ready to share everything yet.

“No, it’s okay, I… have work to do.”

“Don’t forget the Saiyans are getting here one of these days, it’d be better if you’re here when that happens.”

“I know.”

“Do you know anything about Raditz?”

You inhale sharply before clearing your throat.

“I don’t.”

“That’s so weird, he just disappeared. I would assume he left the planet, but he doesn’t have any ship, does he?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Mmh, I’m sure we’ll know what he’s been up to once his two buddies come here. I know Goku can take them.”

“Yeah… Yeah, Goku is unbeatable, right?”

“…Are you okay? You don’t sound too good…”

“I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been thinking about this too much.” At least that part isn’t a lie. “Don’t worry, okay? Call me if anything happens.”

You hang up after that.

It has been almost a year since Goku died. It doesn’t feel like so much time has passed. Since you’ve been trying to avoid the topic altogether when Raditz was around, you actually lost track of time until Bulma called to tell you about it. 

You’re reconsidering actually making a bag and getting to Kame House too when a loud knock on the balcony startles you. 

You freeze in place. It has been a month since you had that argument with Raditz. What is he doing here? Even when weeks went by, you’re not sure you’ve cooled off enough to handle this yet. Or at all, since you were positive you would never see his face again. 

“Open up.” Raditz’s loud voice demands from the other side of the balcony door. “Unless you want me to blast through the wall.”

Fuck. You know he isn’t bluffing. 

Breathing in deeply, you open the door ajar to look him up. He’s still as handsome as ever even when he doesn't have his usual smirk, you want to gouge out your eyes because of how furious it makes you. You lock eyes with him for a brief second before moving to the side to let him in. 

Raditz stands in front of you with his eyes fixed on your face, but your gaze is elsewhere. Now that he is here, you don’t want to apologize first. You’re hurt, but you’re still very angry too. You’re a lot of emotions together at once with him. 

“Are you not even going to look at me?” He asks, annoyed. 

You sigh, slowly, turning your eyes towards him. You can’t decipher the expression on his face, but Raditz is staring at you with such intensity you’re worried he might be seeing right through you. You avert your gaze from him after a second, unsure if you want to slap him again or jump right into his arms. 

You’re startled when Raditz abruptly takes a few steps towards you and grabs your arms, pulling you closer and leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. A surprised noise escapes you, melting a little inside when you feel him so close after all that time. It takes a second for you to remember that you’re still upset and that you don’t actually want to give in this easily.

“No…” You murmur quietly into the kiss, pushing urgently at his shoulders to get him off. “No, Raditz, I don’t wanna do this!”

“Your body is saying otherwise.” He says with a smirk, hands sliding underneath your shirt and making you shiver.

“I don’t wanna do this when I’m mad at you!” You clarify, pulling away from him the best you can in his embrace. 

“Isn’t this the best way to make amends?” 

That smug grin of his grows wider and your face heats up, but you still roll your eyes. 

“I’m not doing this until you apologize. What you said to me hurt…” 

Raditz pulls away, frowning deeply, his hands closing into fists then opening and closing again a couple of times. You realize that he probably won’t apologize first; you wonder if he actually can apologize at all, not because he’s incapable, but maybe it’s something he has never done before. 

“Though I guess, I really hurt you too.” You say after seconds of silence, taking the first step. “I didn’t mean to talk to you that way… I’m sorry. What I said was true though, I do care about you…”

He nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What am I supposed to say?” Raditz asks, with his eyes still on your face.

“I don’t know… tell me how you feel?” His frown gets deeper and you want to laugh because he looks like a petulant child who simply can’t have things his way. You offer him a small smile instead. “Do they not teach Saiyans how to apologize?”

“We do not apologize.” 

You sigh, your smile turning sour because you expected that answer. 

“It wasn’t my intention to upset you.” Raditz says, to your surprise, as he gets closer again with a smirk. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You huff, smiling despite yourself, when his hands reach for you again, pulling you closer by your shirt until you’re flush against him.

“You’re only saying that cause you wanna get laid!”

“I’m saying that because I want you.” He leans down to bury his face in your neck, pressing his nose to your skin and breathing in deeply. “If you do not want this, tell me to stop.”

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel his breath near your ear, and you jolt when his hands trail under your shirt once more. 

You don’t know if that apology of his is enough, but he did say he was sorry in a way.

When Raditz realizes you won’t stop him, he removes all your clothes urgently, and you help him get rid of his as he kisses you fervently. You feel his desperation by the way his hands gripped your body, pressing you as close as possible while his lips devoured you. You had to pull away for air, but he just kept planting kisses down your jaw and neck.

You soon forget why you’ve been mad all this time, and your mind goes completely blank when he lays you on the bed and kneels down on the floor, grinning cheekily as he throws your legs over his shoulders. 

“I may not be good with words, but I know I’m damn good at other things.” Raditz purrs, tracing his lips on the inside of your thighs.

You laugh breathily because he’s obviously right, and you’re too weak to argue about whatever you were talking about before.

Whatever Raditz gets out of going down on you, you don’t know, but you don’t ponder on the thought when he coaxes you into coming twice with just his mouth in what must be record time. You’re still in haze when he crawls on top of you, kissing you gently as he pushes his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, I needed this…” He grunts in your ear, once he’s fully sheathed. “I need you. I want you.”

Raditz sets a steady yet hard pace, slamming his hips against yours. You whimper, your body still sensitive, and after a few rough thrusts you get closer to the edge again. You don’t even try to fight it or to make it last longer; after having come twice already, you’re too weak to do much. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you hold him close as your release washes over you, shuddering and letting out a stuttered moan. Raditz groans against your skin before biting down your neck, moving into you faster until his body tenses, coming inside with a guttural growl.

He practically collapses on top of you once he’s spent but you don’t mind it; it’s nice to feel him so close after so many days when you were getting used to the idea that you wouldn’t meet him again. Running your hands up and down his back and threading your fingers through his hair, you sigh contently until he rolls over to the side. 

When he pulls you closer with an arm around your shoulder and his tail on your waist, you look at him with wide eyes. He rarely initiates cuddling. 

“I thought I was never going to have you again.” Raditz confesses quietly, only for you to hear. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come back either…” You respond softly. “I didn’t want that to be the last time we saw each other. Everything I said… You shouldn’t take my word for it anyway.”

“Didn’t you say you meant it?”

“When I said I care about you, yeah, I did, but everything else… I mean, you know me enough. I come home to an empty apartment every day. Who am I to talk about how you live your life…”

Your eyes are looking at the window, fixed on the sky, tinted with dark orange as the sun sets, but you can feel his eyes trained on your face. 

“I still have a lot to apologize for, is that what you’re saying?” Raditz asks, pressing you closer.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He hums in response, and you shut up for once, not wanting to drag this along anymore. When he presses his nose to the top of your head, breathing in your scent, you close your eyes, relaxing for a minute, pleased that he has magically decided to come and stay for at least a little while.

“You didn’t ask me to clean myself this time.” Raditz casually says, and you snort. You’re aware that you didn’t, but you also didn’t catch any weird smell when he was close, so you don’t really care.

“I was just ignoring how dirty you are.”

“Is that so?” He shifts, moving even closer and pressing his lips to your neck again. “Do you want to take a shower with me?”

You’re only human, and Raditz is looking at you with eyes that make you want to sink and drown in them. He effortlessly carries you to the shower, and as water falls down both of your bodies, he kisses you heatedly when he slides inside you again, moving at a steady pace, and it doesn’t take long until you both come simultaneously. 

Later that night, when he’s sleeping by your side with an arm draped over your waist, tears well up in your eyes. You don’t dare to think about it, let alone say it out loud, but you know how you feel. You know well what the word is for how you feel towards him. Anxiety about the upcoming days keeps you from reveling in your feelings because you know this won’t end well. This was supposed to be just casual but you had been naive to think it could remain that way as time went by. 

Swallowing down your feelings, and telling yourself to keep quiet about them and how much it’s going to hurt once he leaves, you blink your tears away before they can spill as you press closer to Raditz, and try to sleep.

*

Raditz was honest when he said he thought he was never going to lay with you again. He was sure you wouldn’t want to work things out when he got to your place to talk to you, you were the one who told him to leave after all. Thankfully, he had been wrong; he figured he would have to say sorry even if he didn’t know how. But when he kissed you and your body responded to him, he knew not all was lost. He’s very aware he did the bare minimum, but apologizing is something he has never done, not like this, not when he’s actually sorry and has to show himself vulnerable to someone else. It’s comforting to know you did the same for him. 

He feels you moving more than usual when the two of you go to sleep that night, as well as how tense your body is against his. He’s close to actually asking if there’s something wrong, but you end up falling asleep at some point. 

After sharing a bed with you for so many nights, Raditz already knows you’re not a light sleeper, not like he is. He moves to press closer when he wakes up the next morning, and you don’t even notice, too deep in your slumber to respond to his gesture. He can’t see your face from his position; your back is against his chest, the faint sunlight filtering through the window highlights the line of your body, and he can smell your hair. Small benefits from lying down like  that. 

The desire to stay like this, with his nose buried in your hair and an arm wrapped around your waist while the sun rises, is unfamiliar and confusing, yet not entirely unwelcome. Since he never actually had sex and slept with someone before, especially not as many times, he’s not sure how normal it is to feel this way, but it brings him a sense of peace that he has never experienced before. The closest feeling to this one was the one he got after purging a planet, like satisfaction from having finished a job, and knowing he could relax for a bit. Yet at the same time, it’s unfair to compare the two, they were similar, but nothing alike. 

Saiyans rarely mated for life, but it wasn’t completely uncommon. Raditz is well aware, his parents were one of the few mated couples on the planet. But it had been a long time ago, and the image of everyone else he may have known is fuzzy. Is this how his parents felt when they were with each other? 

He knows he’s become quite fond of you; after you told him to leave last time and the prospect of never touching you again sank in, how important you are to him became much more obvious. But what's more surprising is that it doesn’t bother him at all. 

Except for the fact that Vegeta and Nappa are coming to this planet God knows when. Raditz has lost track of time a long time ago, all he knows is that they are getting here someday. 

He remembers well that he was looking for the Dragon Balls too. For immortality, or something. He’s been rethinking that wish for a few days now, but there isn’t any alternative that satisfies him. 

His focus shifts when you stir, humming softly as you wake up. You look comically startled to see him staring at you when you turn to him with sleepy eyes. 

“Hey,” You mumble, clearing your throat, “You should have woken me up if you were awake.”

“Why?” His tail that has been draped over your hip tightens, holding you closer to his body. 

“I don’t know, aren’t you hungry, or bored?”

“I’m not.” Raditz chuckles; maybe he’s a little hungry, but he rather stays like this. “You snore when you sleep and that’s pretty entertaining.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. Pretty loudly.”

“Well, you snore too, and even louder!”

You’re looking at him with drowsy eyes, rosy cheeks, and messy hair; he can’t resist.

Laughing quietly, Raditz brings the hand on your waist up to your cheek to stroke it, pulling you closer towards him and gently pressing his lips to yours. You make a surprised soft noise and squirm in his arms, making him smile into the kiss, completely pleased with your reaction. He plants another brief kiss before pulling awake, and you stare at him with wide eyes.  

“Why did you do that?” You ask shyly, blushing deeper. He’s not sure why you’re blushing, you had kissed each other before, plenty of times. 

But he’s never kissed you just because, with no intentions of sex. 

Raditz remains quiet, only staring at your face for a little while before you move to sit up.

“I should get up… I’ll make breakfast.”

Your cheeks still have a faint pink hue as he watches you walk out the room towards the bathroom. 

You stare at him more often than usual during the morning, while he eats, and he usually wouldn’t mind it, but you’re not even saying anything that would explain why you keep your eyes trained on him with such intensity. 

“You keep staring at me, girl, what are you thinking?”

“I didn’t realize I was… Sorry.”

Raditz grunts in response, noticing that you look embarrassed for being caught. He doesn’t get it, though. 

“I don’t like it when you call me ‘girl’.”

“What? Why? You are a girl.” He frowns, confused.

“I am but I’m not a child, I’m a woman.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“How old are you, anyway? You look around Goku’s age.”

“I don’t know.” Raditz replies after some time. 

“You don’t know how old you are?”

“No. I was seven when Planet Vegeta was destroyed. I stopped counting after that.”

You look sad for whatever reason; he doesn’t get that either. 

“Goku was sent here as a baby…” You start after some time, thinking out loud and locking eyes with him. “Do you remember how old you were when he was born?”

“I was six.”

“So, a year later, your planet was destroyed?”

“More or less, yes.”

“Mmh… Goku was 24 when he died-”

“Can we stop talking about Kakarot?”

“-and he would have been 25 by now. And you’re 6 years older than him. So you’re 31.”

Raditz blinks, unsure of how to react. 

“You’re not that much older than me then, I was a bit worried.” You smile cheerily. 

“You were worried?” 

“A bit, yeah. You could have been 100 years old for all I know. But I’m glad we are close in age.”

“Is age that important? How old are you?” He eyes you up and down; he doesn’t have any concept about how humans age, but you look young. 

Do humans stay young for a long time, like Saiyans? Doubtful. Saiyans were built like that to fight for decades, but humans do not do that. 

“I’m 28.” You smile wider, resting your arms on the table and leaning closer. “You also seem like a Scorpio.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s a human thing, according to when you were born, you have certain personality traits.”

“You humans sure have a lot of free time on your hands.” 

Raditz yanks your chair closer to his with his foot, making you jolt, obviously surprised, but you keep talking. 

“Yeah, well, we were never involved in intergalactic wars. But I’m not sure if you’re more like a Scorpio or a Gemini…”

“I don’t know what any of that means.” 

He effortlessly picks you, making you sit on his lap and holding you close as his lips find your neck, pressing kisses up your jaw. 

“You can be a Scorpio because you’re a little stubborn, among other things…” You giggle when he presses his nose to the skin under your ear, taking in your scent. “Or a Gemini because you’re mischievous, and a little tense…”

Raditz isn’t really paying too much attention to what you’re saying, he’s too preoccupied with how your body feels, how soft your skin is, and how sweet your smell is to respond to your words.

“You’re not listening to me…” You say, quietly and breathily, as he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt.

“I’m busy.” He nibbles your jaw, and you shiver slightly in his embrace. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying anyway.”

Capturing your lips next, you’re finally silenced as he kisses you ardently, digging his fingers into your flesh to press you as close as possible. You hum contently, kissing him just as eagerly, and Raditz feels his chest tightening with adoration. 

It’s a strange sensation, being aware of his affection for you, and the affection itself, having never experienced anything close to it. He could spend hours just sitting there, kissing you, touching you, and even more. 

When he pulls away to take off your shirt, Raditz notices that the sky has turned pitch black, leaving your apartment in the dark. It’s morning, the sun was out just a minute ago. You gasp when you notice it too, and you stiffen in his arms. Looking at your face, even in the shadows, he immediately can tell that you know what’s going on. 

“What is this?” He asks, staring at you. 

He hears you swallow as your hold on his shoulders tightens, but you don’t answer. 

Raditz stands up, helping you stay on your feet before he walks to the window to look outside. There’s nothing going on besides the sky being completely obscured. He focuses on detecting energies, but there’s no one who catches his attention. 

The darkness only lasts a few minutes before the sun is out again, just in the same spot it was before. He has been on Earth enough to know that hasn’t been a common occurrence on that planet. And there isn’t any moon for it to be an eclipse.

When Raditz turns to look at you, you seem upset, with your brows furrowed and mouth slightly open. 

“You know what’s going on. Tell me.” He wants to sound demanding, but he has grown too soft to even raise his voice at you.

You open and close your mouth a few times, and he waits patiently for an explanation, but before he can get one, your phone rings. He’s about to tell you to ignore it, but you quickly turn to pick it up. His eyes follow you, and he listens in to your conversation (as he usually does when you talk on the phone with someone).

“Oh, hi, Bulma… Yeah, I saw. I figured it was you. So Goku is back? Tomorrow? But that’s a month early! Yeah, I know. I’ll be there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Raditz watches as you hang up, and slowly, very slowly, turn to him. You still look distressed as you lock eyes with him. 

“The Saiyans are getting here tomorrow.”

He couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. Tomorrow? Has it been a year? No, that’s why you said ‘that’s a month early’. It hasn’t been a year, but he has lost track of time to even notice how long it’s been. He’s been too distracted.

“And… They brought Goku back to life. Now you can’t use the Dragon Balls…” 

Raditz frowns. He wanted the Dragon Balls to make a wish (immortality, was it?) but he doesn’t really care about that anymore. 

You’re looking at him with big eyes, and he understands why you seem so upset now. 

When Raditz takes a few steps forward he isn’t really thinking, he just knows that he wants to touch you and feel you close more than ever before. You’re startled by how fast he lunges towards you, and you even gasp when he kisses you. He presses you against the telephone stand, almost tumbling it over, but he really doesn’t care, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He kisses you as if he hasn’t been kissing you the past few days, the past few months, with intensity, tasting your lips and every corner of your mouth.

“Raditz-” You call for him against his lips, clinging to his shoulders. “Wait-”

“I don’t want to wait.” He practically growls, gripping your waist so tight he regrets it, thinking he might have hurt you, but you only hum in response. “I don’t want to talk. Just…”

At a loss of words, he trails off, but luckily you don’t try again. 

You only moan his name, and the occasional curse, when Raditz presses you against the mattress moments later, moving in and out of you at a slow pace, kissing you heatedly the entire time, swallowing down all your noises and all the words that escape your lips. He groans your name against your skin every time he comes, holding you close, knowing this time that he will have to let you go once tomorrow arrives. 

When he decided that this situation with you was just a distraction in what could only be considered a ‘pause’ in the usual pace of his life, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He feels like he’s bleeding inside again, for different reasons now. 

Raditz stays in bed with you for most of the day (he still knows you’re human, and you can’t possibly keep up with him if he were to actually fuck you all day long, and you both need to eat anyway). For once you don’t talk too much, and he realizes he actually likes it when you do, when you ask him questions or when you quip a witty remark at him. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do tomorrow. 

“You’re not going to go there, are you?” Raditz asks you the next morning, eying you up and down as you sit on the bed, tying up your shoes. 

“No, I’m going to be at Kame House.”

“That pink house where we met?”

“Yeah…”

He nods. He doesn’t know why he even asked, if something were to happen to the planet, it wouldn’t matter where you are. 

“I’ll take you there.”

“Oh, I can get there myself.” You show him a small smile. “Thank you, though.”

Raditz would argue but it’s better that way. He can say goodbye to you alone here. 

As soon as you stand up, he kisses you. You get surprised every time, but you return it just the same. He glides his lips over yours, slow and sweet, as he holds your face. This might be the last time he gets to kiss you, so he makes it last until he feels you’re struggling for air. He’s going to miss that hazy look in your eyes when he breaks a kiss, the look you currently have as he leans his forehead against yours. 

Unsure of what to say, Raditz just keeps his eyes locked with yours for a while. You said before you want him to say goodbye whenever he leaves. He doesn’t want to say it, but he does anyway.

“Goodbye.”

His body protests when he takes a step back, his hands on your face leaving you last. You still look distressed, and he waits for a minute, in case you want to say something.

When you don’t, Raditz finally turns to the balcony, opening the door and flying away. 

[kob131]

Velma Episode 1 Thoughts

“So, how’s that promise to not watch the Velma show go-”

*Sees a list of Youtube reviews*

“...May as well check out for myself then.”

-Wow, you guys are trying so fucking hard to cause a rise out of people. This is some of the most pathetic baiting I have ever seen. And I’m autistic- I am literally wired to not get this stuff.

-And because I’m feeling cruel-

‘Tall handsome guy given even more power’- Ever heard of Spider man?

‘Oh hey, what made this hot chick go crazy?’- Ever heard of Samus Aran?

-’Not Fred and his creepy sex van’. Five bucks says you end up riding around in that ‘creepy sex van’ with Fred giving you orders because your show will be tanking so hard you’ll need to pander to the original audience to survive.

And as an original fan, I say ‘die in a ditch’

-’I hate Daphne. >:(’ Wow, the nerdy girl hates the popular, conventionally pretty girl. Real great work subverting those stereotypes. Especially since that notebook has ‘Velma Dinkley-Jones’ written in it too.

Fun fact, my own little Team STRQ headcanon has Raven and Summer hating each other’s guts due to ideological differences (Raven believes that people need to survive on their own while Summer believes that people should help if they have the power) among other things. But I’m insecure about it because it can also be read as ‘two girls fight over a guy (Taiyang)’. In short- I have more awareness of stupid tropes regarding women than this show.

-’This is my story, told MY way!’

Which is why you’re not even remotely Velma Dinkley and this told through the same fucking story telling seen everywhere nowadays.

-...This show is going to use swearing as a substitute for actual maturity, isn’t it?

*Shows two cockroaches bumping uglies*

... Yay...

-Is...is this bitchy girl Daphne? The sweet, emotionally intelligent, kind hearted Daphne?

-You know, you guys could have given the girls some variety in their body types other than ‘curvaceous, busty and leggy’. I’m no prude but coming to be more true to myself, I’ve come to appreciate the variety in the female form. I also say this because this involved me coming to terms with how I appreciate the male form as well.

Also just because sex sells (I have checked out series because I found a girl hot) doesn’t make shoving gratuitous nudity in my face entertaining. At least let the girl fully check them out.

-You know what, here’s a lesson to any aspiring writers-

If you’re gonna be sensual, be sensual. Fully examine the beauty of the female and male bodies. The graceful curves and the hardy stockiness- be free, be open, be true to yourself! That is what it means to be an adult!

 -Nobody gets physical over these kinds of discussions. Where the writers fucking high when writing this?

-Maybe they were because the chick I’m pretty sure is Daphne is DROWNING SOMEONE.

Please for the love of god, someone ax her ass!

-THANK YO-

‘And how do you feel about race blind casting, Daphne?’

Oh god FUCKING DAMNIT!

- “I wasn’t expecting such an enlightened answer from such a bitch.”

https://youtu.be/CN2s-rFYQqI

VELMA WOULD NOT ASSAULT SOMEONE!

-... Solid JJ did this better.

-... I want everyone whoever called RWBY’s writing as ‘exposition dumping’ to write an apology. NOW.

No one would respond to ‘How long has it been since X has had you over’ with ‘ever since my mom died. Two years ago.’ It should be. ‘Two years ago, ever since Mom...’. That is something people SAY.

-Oh god, this is so painful. 

You-you know how a lot of dialogue in media can be boiled down to how it advances the plot or characters but the extra fat is necessary to make the dialogue digestible to your average viewer since media is an exchange between the audience suspending their disbelief and the creators presenting a nice story in exchange?

No one ever taught these writers that. It’s ALL just plot progression and obvious references with nothing to give it any taste!

-*Slicked over blond hair, blue jeans, white sweater, bumps into Velma while on his phone*

Oh no no no no no no no-

“Oh hi, Fred!”

“I have a disease where I can’t remember anyone who isn’t hot-”

-NO, FUCK YOU!

The one. ONE! Guy who was never even close to anything to being toxic in his masculinity. A kind, cheerful, calm, caring man who suffered from single mindedness but was nonetheless a man who carried himself with dignity and kindness who was beloved for basically creating the ‘himbo’ archetype-

You FUCKED HIM UP! IN ONE SCENE!

-... Fred’s gay and in the closet, isn’t he?

Of course he is. Because of course any man who dresses fashionably must be sucking dick. Just like Velma’s probably LGBT because she’s nerdy and not conventionally feminine. Because as everyone knows- if you deviate from the overly strict definitions of masculinity and feminity, you MUST be LGBT.

-Can we have ONE good father in a fucking cartoon for once?

-Whatever is inside her...isn’t a baby.

-’Oh we’re ABOVE the ‘slutty girl deserved to get murdered’ trope~’

And yet you roll around in those other, even more cliche tropes. No credit.

-Oh yay, this really is a ‘toxic masculinty’ plotline with Fred. And ten bucks says it will still get its ass beaten by Jaune’s.

-’I’m at fault for my mom leaving my dad who knocked up a waitress’

And you’re supposed to be the smart one...

-’Wow, I am emotionally invested in your journey and it’s stakes!’

Cool. Glad someone is.

-...Why is Shaggy even here? What’s even the point without his connection with Scoob?

-’I hate drugs! *wink*’

Shaggy being a stoner was a joke, not canon. May as well give him Ultra Instinct at this point.

-Oh cool, the fucking waitress knows ‘Velma’ better than her fucking father. Yay...

-’Maybe Velma’s mom left her because she was a brat...’

... Judging from how Velma looks and her size, she’s likely no older than 6-8 during those flashbacks.

If that is true then Velma’s mom bore a grudge or resentment towards her child for...acting like a child. And no, the eyeball injury is not an excuse because in no universe is spray water into someone’s eye going to cause enough damage to make it pop out.

Velma’s mom was a fucking bitch and her dumbass dad is implied to be the better parent...because she’s a bitch. Fucking wonderful.

-... This show was some tax write off, wasn’t it?

[pinkhairedlily]

The Day Sakura Stopped Being Human

Summary: Strong smell of tobacco cuts through the petrichor. The smoke comes from the branches above her. He’s tall, around nine feet, or probably more than that when he stands upright. Stories say they enjoy making people walk in circles. The only way to end it is to reverse one’s clothes. “You’re a kapre.” “And I heard you would like a smoke.” Rating: Teens and up

For Kakasaku Halloween Week 2022 @kkskevents | AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42752997

Sakura gives up lighting the candle. The wind is strong, and the rain seems to have no intention of letting up. It’s a good thing she deferred on buying flowers. She only had enough until next week. She tightens her hold on her umbrella as she feels the gusts come her way. No use; it bends upwards, drenching her from head to toe.

Time and elements have eaten away the letters on the stone on the fifth floor of a grave apartment. To a stranger, it’s unmarked. To her, it’s a brief interlude of sunshine. How cruel — to have someone’s life be remembered through a bunch of lines.

Sakura waits for the tears. It’s always better to cry when it’s raining.

Most funerals fall on rainy days. She wished it was like that when her parents died, but the actual forecast was sunny. Not too humid, not too hot. The perfect summer day on a beach. No rain fell that day so she couldn’t cry.

When she went home, she tried to make a meal for herself. There was leftover rice on the rice cooker. She heated a pan to fry an egg, the last one in the fridge. She cracked it just fine. She watched as the edges made small bubbles before turning brown and crisp, waited until all but the yolk cooked (she liked her eggs runny), then she tried to scoop it onto her plate. The bottom stuck, and the yellow spilled over.

Right, it was still food.

She turned off the gas, assumed her position at the table for the last 13 years, and ate. Fat teardrops slid on her cheek. The rice went bad and the egg was unseasoned. She missed her parents.

Present day Sakura pats the wet blades of grass off her clothes and finds shelter under the thick canopy of balete, a strangler tree. A line of them has taken residence along the walls of the cemetery. Stories about them are plentiful across places, from cities to mountains. No one dares to cut them down lest they invoke the wrath of its otherworldly residents.

She only sees them as trees. Good for the environment but parasitic. Eats up non-balete species easily. Might also eat up the graves in less than a century. Some part of her is grateful for them; they’re one of the reasons why lots at the back are cheap. But if she doesn’t pay the next installment next month, Mebuki and Kizahi’s bones will be replaced by someone else. (She hopes the balete grows overnight and takes over the whole place.)

Ironic considering how no one is visiting the dead when it’s All Souls Day. People pay for space and markers as grand tributes and never come back again. Some bullshit.

“I would kill for a smoke right now.”

Strong smell of tobacco cuts through the petrichor. It’s distinct from normal nicotine sticks or the trendy vape tools. The sharp scent brings her back to her auntie’s house in the province, stringing fresh tobacco leaves and hanging them up to dry. When the leaves roll up nicely, that’s when she knows she did a good job.

The smoke comes from the branches above her. She follows the trail of the roots and its draping limbs until she sees the rorschach blots of orange and red before they could disperse in ash gray wisps.

He’s tall, around nine feet, or probably more than that when he stands upright. Sakura sucks at metrics. His hairy legs dangle loose over the branch — it’s a wonder how the wood can hold its weight. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not lost,” Sakura says out loud.

“Yes, I can see you.” She’s expecting a more guttural noise but his is flowy and clear, almost like how a violin would sound. “And yes, I haven’t played a prank on you yet although the desire is tempting.”

Stories say they enjoy making people walk in circles. The only way to end it is to reverse one’s clothes. “You’re a kapre.” A pervy one at that.

“And I heard you would like a smoke.”

He jumps down from his position with a loud thud and settles on the cradle of the humongous balete roots. Pretty sure his landing would have carved out a hole in the earth. Oddly enough, being at arm’s breadth from this supernatural creature doesn’t ignite fear in her. Paralysis, anxiety, cold, desperation, fight or flight — all of these abandoned her psyche.

She’s simply tired.

And she needs a smoke so bad.

The kapre opens his metal tin the size of her torso. She gingerly picks the one in the middle and cuts a third out of it; no way is she gonna smoke an arm-sized roll. That would be like contracting lung cancer in just two long drags.

She sits beside him, much more conscious of their size difference, and asks for a light. He leans in towards her roll, and that’s the only time she feels scared.

Because he doesn’t look like a kapre. He looks beautiful.

Oh, she underestimated her cockiness.

She coughs when the nicotine hits her lungs. His laughter is a rumble, quite a nice companion to the pitter-patter of rain, if only she isn’t fighting for her life being cool and unaffected. Sakura always had walls to build, but seconds only with him, and she’s a mess. Absurd.

“It had been a long time,” she says as an excuse.

“So you say.” He takes another long drag. That tobacco roll seems to never run out.

“You look more of a mix.”

“Please don’t loop me with the kinds of tikbalang - part horse, part human. They look horrendous.”

"True. The proportions don't match with them." Smoking gets easier. Familiarity, with something you hate and love, makes it difficult to forget. It's always in the back of one's head. "So what are you? An albino?"

The kapre considers the word for a moment and shrugs. "Probably."

Sakura sharply turns to his side. "Wait — your engkanto mom probably had an affair with a kapre!"

The creature smirks at her. "Hmm. Perceptive. You're right." He crosses his arms behind his head, and she finds it difficult to look away from the bulging veins of his biceps.

"I bet your whole kingdom is envious of you."

He laughs. "Oh it's the best of both worlds."

"I know I'm right. You look —" 

Beautiful.

"— so out of place." 

Sakura stares at him like he has grown two heads. How?

"The perfectionist engkantos think my height is an anomaly, and being five shades revokes your kapre citizenry." 

"Oh."

He takes a long drag again and puffs out circles. "Yes oh."

The end of her roll is succumbing to the cold, diffusing in wisps that join the fog of the rain. Sakura pulls her knees closer to her chest. "Is that why you're here?"

"To project my misery on people?" He scoffs. "Of course, you're right."

"What's the worst prank you did?" 

"I killed one."

She waits for her blood to run cold at the casual confession.

And waits and waits and waits. It doesn’t come. She remains the same nonchalant lady who entered the cemetery an hour ago.

Life, she realized, has numbed her to this point.

"Why?"

 “Why?”

The creature looks at her incredulously, probably in awe why she hasn’t bolted yet. He licks his lips and rests one side of his chin to his palm. Sakura realizes this is how he recalls things.

He describes a long object with his arms and swings it horizontally. “He wanted to take down my tree.”

“Can’t you transfer somewhere else? It’s easy to grow a balete tree. You just leave it be.”

“My father’s side sticks strictly to one. It’s hard to find empty lots right now where I’m at.”

“Your house literally grows through concrete.”

“It’s much of a hassle when you wake up every other day with your house cut down. You understand we operate on two different time frames? Your life expectancy is only a few years to us.”

Sakura nods. “So the roadworks also affect you?”

“This is why you never progress.”

“Says someone with backward filial beliefs.”

“Excuse you, we have a different worldview.”

“You’re weird.” Sakura’s shift in topic is jarring. “You’re easy to converse with.”

“The gravediggers don’t talk to me anymore.” He resumes his attention on his tobacco.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s is wet from the rain. The half-consumed roll rests on the soil, crushed by muddy rivulets. 

“So what’s your story, pinky?”

Sakura rests her back on the large trunk. “I’m visiting my parents.”

“At the height of a storm?” 

In her soaked bag, a phone rings. Three rounds of alarm, standard disaster notice. The automated voice reads, Warning. Red rainfall warning and signal number four in Konoha. Evacuate now. Another three rounds and then it falls silent.

Sakura nods. “It’s my last goodbye.”

“Going away?”

“You could put it like that. Our house is on mortgage, and some local officials want to demolish it for a right of way.”

“Roadworks?”

“Roadworks. It would have been done and sealed if they gave me money.” Sakura starts to chip off the sides of her nails. “But they said I’m the one who owes them. It turned into a screaming match, and then I got a blotter.”

“Rough life. So you’re wanted right now.”

She side-eyes him. “What? Afraid of me?”

The kapre laughs. “No, you’re cool. That’s a word you use, right?”

“My parents don’t know though so be a good kapre and keep mum.”

He puts out his tobacco against the trunk and scoots closer to her. Sakura is silently grateful for the warmth. She’s drenched and the cold is sinking into her bones. A little more and she’s sure to contract pneumonia.

But this creature, this man, is like a campfire on a beach in the middle of December. If someone would cover her with a blanket, she would instantly fall asleep.

“Don’t you have someone?”

She thinks of all the people she slept with. Her best friend turned stranger. The school librarian and the expulsion after the discovery. Random Tinder matches. The bakery boy who always gave her one extra pandesal. The man she thought of as the one but hid her from his family.

She has memories of heartbreak, of crying and thrashing and cursing, but the pain has left her for good.

“No. I’m the first one to always leave.”

“That’s a shame. You’re pretty.” A finger lifts the end of her ponytail. “But this makes everything easier.” 

“Are you hitting on me?” She flicks his large hand away.

His mouth curves upwards. A sneer. Menacing one. “Ah you’ve reached bottom rock if you think a kapre is a good prospect.”

Sakura drops the cool act and grunts. “I don’t think I’ll get married in this lifetime. Love is just too taxing.”

“But you’ve slept around.”

“Are you actually following me?”

“No, it’s a human thing to do. Sleep around. Some people do it on top of tombs.”

Sakura winces in disgust. “You’re such a voyeur.”

He holds up both of his hands. “Against my own will.”

The rain mercilessly keeps on, and the winds start to pick up speed. It’s chaos all over, but in her mind, Sakura is busy fondling sensations. Her fingers unconsciously trace the outline of her lips. “I miss kissing. Being kissed.” 

“Is that a request?”

She snaps as if waking from a trance. The giant is teasing her, but the question piqued her curiosity. While he trained his gaze elsewhere, she slipped her small body near his frame, using the roots as her leverage. She quickly captures his face with her small hands.

He’s surprised. Or he went into shock. Either way, he’s not moving.

“What would it be like,” she stares deep into his eyes, “to kiss you?”

It’s a litmus test.

This creature’s actually intelligent so he must have known by now why Sakura wants to be riled up. All that she has felt lately is emptiness. She’s not expecting much. It might be just like other kisses before him — mechanical, numb, unfeeling.

Under all of these, she’s just scared to admit she lost the capacity for emotions.

What would it be like to kiss you? A horrendous folklore creature? Will it give me disgust or fear?

Sakura’s lips are only a fraction of his mouth.

Something ignites — from him or her, she doesn’t know. It feels like she grew several feet tall, and his face somehow perfectly fits the cradle of her hands. And his mouth which tastes of nicotine and rain and mint is accurately slotted against hers. 

She shudders at the goosebumps that prick her skin. Figuring it’s just the cold, she inches closer until her hands reach his hairy chest. Those large hands find their way on her back and push her tighter against him.

She moans at the growing friction, inadvertently opening her mouth to his access. Tongue meets tongue and from there on out, everything is lost under the canopy of the straggler tree.

“You can shapeshift,” she notes after a long while.

The giant hums in agreement. “I’m a bit of everything, Sakura.”

She stills at the mention of her name. “How did you —”

The guilt on his face is an afterthought. “I told you. I’ll come back for you.”

Recollection comes to her in sweeping moments.

She remembers him.

She knows him.

These memories finally move to the forefront.

“Kakashi.”

Sakura utters the same name he gave so many years ago. A distant memory of her getting lost in a sea of legs. Grasping a hairy ankle. She held onto the hairs as the man walked and walked and walked. She woke up in a room bathed in blinding sunlight. She squinted a lot before finding focus on the giant man in front of her.

Silver hair, grey eyes, and a kind smile.

“Pretty.” She reached out with her short arms, and he crouched down to her level. Fingers squeezed the skin of his cheeks, making her giggle. “Pretty pretty pretty!” she kept repeating. 

In retrospect, this must have been the first time he was described like that. The man cried when he heard the word. Sakura didn't think much of it back then. She was too hungry to think straight.

Seeing her expression, he quickly led her to a table filled with food, and she took her favorite — a sweetened milk powder one ate through a straw called mikmik.

She also grabbed a Chuckie, a chocolate drink. Her classmates had this for snacks while she was stuck with diluted milk. 

"Thank you!" She minded her manners. Her mom says they can get you through life. "You have a nice house!"

The creature kept smiling. "What's your name?"

"Sakura!"

"That's a rare name."

"Father says it matches my hair!" She points to another carton of chuckie. "Can I bring some for my parents, mister giant?"

He nods. "Call me Kakashi."

“When I grow up, I’m gonna marry you Kakashi!” She indulged in every treat at the table, and he let her. 

“Why?”

Sakura counted the reasons on her stubby fingers. “You’re pretty. You have food. You have a nice house.”

He laughed, and she felt the whole room rumble.

“I cannot keep you here. You should go home,” he said with fondness in his voice. “For now.”

Once again, she was wrapped around his ankle. When he stopped walking after a while, she knew it was goodbye.

“Will I see you again?” she asked him. “Thank you for feeding me, Kakashi!”

“Do you want to go back?”

Sakura didn’t know her answer would matter much.

“Yes!”

“Then I’ll come back for you.”

He dropped her off at the entrance of the cemetery from where she traced her steps back to their house. Haruno Sakura had been missing for a week.

x x x

Sakura still made no move to go away. She sits still on the damp root system and watches every microexpression on his face.

“Your parents made it hard to see you again. Had you visit a folk doctor and gave you some charm to ward me off.”

“Did you kill them?”

Kakashi twirls his finger in the air. “No. Road accidents aren’t my thing. Can’t say I wasn’t happy. That made it easier to see you from time to time.”

She weighs his words carefully. “Are you gonna kidnap me now?”

“Hmm, no need for that. You already took a puff out of my tobacco roll, and you kissed me.” He sounds so proud of himself. “I don’t think you need any more convincing.”

She feels an eerie pounding in her chest. The way she went from extreme butterflies (after a long drought) to desperation is whiplash. “Are there any more machinations in my life courtesy of you?”

“None really. I was merely a bystander, patiently waiting for the right time.”

“And now is?”

He smiles again but doesn’t answer. “I guess I need to give you the courtesy to choose. Come back to my home and I’ll make you stay missing.”

The courtesy to choose does not exist. She knows she has sold her soul to him the moment she grabbed food on his table. It’s a common warning — never accept any food or drink from these types of creatures. Once you do, you become one of them.

Kakashi only extended her grace period on earth.

Sakura closes her eyes in frustration.

“What happens if I say no?”

“You’ll just have to visit me every other day to keep me company.” She won’t get rid of him. She’s not entirely sure if she wants to get rid of him.

She thinks about their house along the railway tracks. Most furniture was already sold. The mountain of bills she stuffed in the trash can (tomorrow’s the collection day). Five disconnection notices. Three eggs past the expiration date. A rejection email for a job application. The crumpled recommendation slip inside her pocket. The bottle of pills she swiped at the public health office. 

She has prayed long and hard for this opportunity.

To disappear.

Sakura grabs Kakashi’s wrist and stares at him. “Come on then.”

She expects atmospheric pressure, the kind where you feel all sorts of weight push towards you and propel you in another dimension. It turns out to be as easy as stepping into a bridge and walking the whole way through.

She should have done this sooner.

Kakashi’s world is bathed in sunlight. Sakura immediately feels warmth travel the inches of her skin. A modest spire gate and a room that’s carved out from her memory.

It’s the bedroom she draws on the back of her notebook. Queen-sized bed with pastel green sheets, fluffy pillows, and a duvet. A bedside table with fresh chrysanthemums on a vase. A desk on the corner. A reading nook with built-in shelves around it.

“You’ve been preparing,” Sakura notes.

“I wanted to make you comfortable,” Kakashi replies. He takes her hand and leads her into the dining area. It’s exactly how she remembers it, filled to the brim with not a space uncovered with a dish. “This is now your world Sakura.”

She picks up a Chuckie carton. “Thank you, Kakashi.” And then she starts to cry.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 04/11/2023 (Taylor Swift's '1989' TV/Halloween/The Beatles' Final Single)

Content warning: some language

…Taylor Swift. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

It’s an interesting week this week, for sure. It’s kind of both more and less busy than it appears at first glance. A lot of that is to do with Taylor Swift but we won’t be talking about her for a long time - instead, we start our episode always with the notable dropouts - oh, Taylor’s other songs dropped out to make room for her new ones? Of course they did. We do bid a brief farewell to “Style”, “Cruel Summer” (from the top 10 as well!) and “Anti-Hero”, but the latter two will be back in no time and otherwise, we have plenty of songs dropping out of the UK Top 75 - which is what I cover - after spending at least five weeks in the region or peaking in the top 40. We bid adieu to “Angry” by the Rolling Stones, “Got Me Started” by Troye Sivan, Nines’ “Daily Duppy” freestyle video, “I KNOW ?” by Travis Scott, “Cheat on Me” by Burna Boy featuring Dave, “Used to be Young” by Miley Cyrus and “Riptide” by Vance Joy - that one’ll be back soon enough, not sure about the others.

There’s no need to concern though because we have a disproportionate amount of returns, especially consider there is a singular notable gain, “Lil Boo Thang” by Paul Russell at #52. As for our returns, we have “Kill Bill” by SZA back at #70 and the typical Halloween re-entries, which seemed to perform a bit better this year for whatever reason, maybe because the charts are weak, and we do actually have two new Halloween songs debuting, but as for the re-entries we have “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell featuring uncredited guest vocals from Michael Jackson at #44, “Monster Mash” by Bobby “Boris” Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers at #29, “Ghostbusters” by Ray Parker, Jr. at #21 and of course “Thriller” at #20. We also have the bizarre return of “Teenage Dirtbag” by Wheatus at #38, which thanks to a TikTok trend and a recent 20th anniversary tour, as well as a sped-up version being released last year, has finally gained enough traction to come back to the top 40. It’s a great song… kind of, so I’m not really complaining about it. In fact, I say this is revenge for when it was stuck at #2 for two weeks in 2001, blocked off by Atomic Kitten’s “Whole Again”, which is a fine enough song but really could have given Wheatus one week.

As for our top five, well, this is a family show,  but Taylor Swift doesn’t want it to be, clearly. Her re-recording of 2014’s 1989 of course hits #1 as you’d expect, and we have three songs from her in the top five, starting with “Slut!” at #5. Thankfully there are no re-recordings that charted, instead these are all the new “From the Vault” tracks. Sure, “Strangers” by Kenya Grace is at #4 and “Prada” by casso, RAYE and D-Block Europe is at #3 but then we’re back to Taylor with “Now that We Don’t Talk” debuting at #2 and “Is it Over Now?” at the very top, becoming Taylor’s third #1. It’s the Taylor show way later on however as we have one of the more interesting batches of new songs I think we’ve ever had. Try and put these songs together in one room and see what happens.

NEW ARRIVALS

#74 - “Heart Still Beating” - Nathan Dawe and Bebe Rexha

Produced by Nathan Dawe and Punctual

So we start with a pretty normal introduction to our list of new songs, that being a pretty typical house track with Bebe Rexha on vocals and for what it’s worth, it’s pretty well done. The chill-out atmosphere with the looming synth bass and beeping is designed damn well, especially with the trickling patter of keys against the 90s house percussion that builds up into a really fascinating pre-drop, that creates a strange tension with itself so you don’t expect it when the hurricane actually makes landfall on that ugly but undeniable synth flourish. I would have probably gone for a vocalist who isn’t as annoying as Bebe Rexha can be, especially when her vocals are taken to weird lengths and inflections in the second verse, but she can belt as effectively as she needs to when she does need to, and the song’s ultimately a pretty simple copy-and-paste trick even if that one trick is done very well, so it’s in and out. It’s far from an unpleasant experience when it’s in, though, I’ll give it that.

#73 - “MONEY ON THE DASH” - Elley Duhé and Whethan

Produced by Whethan and Dru DeCaro

Whethan is one of those artists that I think we probably touched upon on this show but I have no real way of knowing because he seems to be nowhere and everywhere at once, and he doesn’t often make appearances on the pop charts. Regardless, he’s an EDM producer that has remix and production credits for days and out of his solo work, I’m pretty sure I’ve only heard his song with Yeat so I have no idea how he’ll work with… someone’s favourite Tate McRaesque singer, Elley Duhé, who has definitely charted before, although not in much capacity. This song is actually from the start of this year but has just charted and what the Hell is that vocal inflection? I don’t know who told Ms. Duhé she could do a deadpan semi-rap where she decides to have an episode whenever she says the words, “control”, “high”, “dice” or “slow”, but it’s so incessantly annoying that it basically just goes full circle and becomes catchy. Whethan’s production helps here given that he and DeCaro have an almost deceitfully simple slap house bass track that seems to show all its tricks to you in the first verse - or hook, she doesn’t actually say anything else - but there’s something else there, specifically this weird respite with flubbing synths and a soaring acoustic guitar line that just continues to develop on itself with a very tropical-feeling build-up that is rendered absolutely irrelevant by the fact it returns to the plodding bass drop with no fanfare at all and no elements of that mix remaining. I can’t tell if it’s a genius way of playfully implementing the attitude of a DJ mix set into a track or if it’s just a troll but either way… I kind of groove with this one. I don’t know to what capacity, but I feel like it’s just weird enough to get a pass. Watch this space, I could see it growing on me.

#55 - “Spooky, Scary Skeletons” - Andrew Gold

Produced by Andrew Gold

Alright, so this year we get two new songs added into the recurring Halloween canon, making their first entry into the top 75, starting with Andrew Gold’s 1996 novelty single “Spooky, Scary Skeletons”. The late Andrew Gold was already long past his prime when this was released. He had his intermittent top 40 hits in the 70s and 80s but this song is taken straight from a children’s novelty album he made specifically for the holiday. Gold wanted the nine songs on that album to fill a void that hadn’t been filled for Halloween songs that were both fun and scary. Interpolating a piece of classical music by Chopin, the song has always just been a bit of a goof. There’s a little narrative at play at least, with the skeletons who just want to socialise, and the melodies are cute if a bit incessant and jabbering. Now the story of the song’s success is a really nice one, mostly because it originates in a really cute place: a 1998 throw-away Halloween VHS by Disney that adorably paid up the song with their iconic 1920s short The Skeleton Dance. Hilariously, the Disney version didn’t go viral - a recreation by a YouTuber who could not find the original did, and thanks to its memehood, the song took on a new life in the 2010s that it never really had before, partly because of just how well the song fit the video but also it fits with the quirky, random sense of 2010s humour that emerged around this time. It also fit electronic beats, as an EDM remix of the track by The Living Tombstone is probably the more well-known version nowadays. It’s terrible, but of course it is, and it helped propel the song to where it is now: frankly, a Halloween classic. Just as cute as the Disney video is the one of a man dressed up in some kind of pumpkin-fitted morph suit that is from a very obscure Nebraskan local broadcast and just ended up in the hands of the Internet who fused it with the viral track and made something incredibly special with it. I may not really like the song, but the story of its success is a pretty fun oddity and whilst it’s a shame Gold didn’t live to see it, it has granted more attention to his work especially in recent years due to TikTok and a vinyl re-release of said Halloween album, now including the remix. Now, perhaps, quite unfittingly after a song about skeletons, a posthumous single.

#42 - “Now and Then” - The Beatles

Produced by Paul McCartney and Giles Martin

Now check this: not only are we getting a song from the Goddamn Beatles, but we’re getting it only a day after it released, thanks to great streaming and expected but still impressive sales. This song has only been out for around a day and a band like The Beatles has flourished on the longevity of their music, so it almost feels wrong to comment this early, even if the song in some form has been around for a while. Lennon wrote this very simple song in the late 1970s. It’s a wispy hiss of a ballad that he never developed on during his lifetime. In 1994, Paul McCartney found himself in possession of Lennon demo tapes, and the three then-remaining Beatles recorded a couple songs using them. “Now and Then” never made the light of day, mostly because George Harrison wasn’t a fan, but decades later, the main problem of vocal quality has largely been fixed thanks to AI technology they’d already used to isolate conversations in their 2021 Get Back documentary. You can vaguely tell that machine learning was used, sure, but it was not to create a synthetic recording and rather improve the quality of an already existing one. There’s also a level of love-letter attention to detail here that really convinces me this isn’t just a cash-in: Paul starts the song with a countdown like he starts the first song in their catalogue, but he doesn’t have the energetic 1-2-3-4 this time around, just a steady 1-2 and a faint 3-count. The bridge actually takes harmonies from dense vocal takes George Harrison did for some of their classic tracks, ones you wouldn’t really be able to notice in their original form because of the sheer amount of layers and takes a lot of those songs have, and places them on top of each other in this new recording to make sure he had extra presence on the track, including a tribute to Harrison in the form of a George-style slide guitar solo from Paul. This song definitely feels special, even if it doesn’t really feel like much of a song. It’s a fleeting final moment, ending The Beatles with a feathery ballad, but it’s still a beautiful one. The core “song” is essentially still in demo form here, with Lennon’s frail, depressed vocal take standing out as particularly sad when it has the reverb and echo against a backdrop of melancholy pianos and an absolutely gorgeous string section. I have already listened to this song a LOT and this has been what’s grown on me the most: just the absolute despair in this insecure, paranoid love song. Ringo Starr’s drums click with little oomph until the first chorus, where they finally ramp up alongside the strings, and Paul starts harmonising with his long-passed friend, “now and then, I miss you - now and then, I want you to be there for me, always to return to me”. Whilst never meant to be, the lyrics find themselves easily re-contextualised in the context of the legacy of The Beatles, and it’s pretty damn heartbreaking, especially with a much older Paul having his voice back up a literal dead man’s final recordings. That soaring solo is also astonishing in how it slides off the baroque instrumentation, and the strings roll back into the harmonies that sound like they were made for the song even if Harrison had originally recorded them for other sessions. It all lines up incredibly well - for an after-the-fact job, the mixing work is intricate, and there’s something profound about it ending with Ringo in the distance appreciating that it was a good take. I expect this to gain next week but after that, I doubt this’ll stick around, or give them an 18th #1 for that matter, but it’s an excellent little joy to have while it’s here, so let’s savour every moment of it.

#14 - “This is Halloween” - Danny Elfman

Produced by Danny Elfman, Bob Badami and Richard Kraft

Now this is the second Halloween song newly entering, and frankly the story is a lot less interesting. It’s the opening theme for a Halloween movie. It’s an incessantly catchy song performed by the citizens of the film’s zany setting conceived by Tim Burton in 1993’s The Nightmare Before Christmas which I have not seen since I was a child. I mean, it’s more accessible than the songs from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, I guess, but it’s kind of funny how this is the highest-peaking Halloween song this week given that it’s the most on-the-nose of the Halloween tracks but also the one perhaps least understandable if you don’t know the context given the amount of characters performing and to me, this has always been a fun novelty wherein I’m just not in on the joke. The song that the Official Charts Company credits also doesn’t really exist. There is not a version credited to Danny Elfman anywhere - there’s the version by “the citizens of Halloween”, which is the film version then tributed re-recordings by Panic! at the Disco and… Marilyn Manson. Well, isn’t that the scariest thing about this holiday? Get that man away from children’s media.

#5 - “Slut!” (Taylor’s Version) (From the Vault) - Taylor Swift

Produced by Taylor Swift, Jack Antonoff and Patrik Berger

Welp, now we’re in Taylor Territory and I will try to keep it brief - after all, these are barely even singles. These are deluxe tracks she cut off the original and waited damn near a decade to re-record and re-release, the fact that they’re being promoted and streamed is more a by-product of them being Taylor Swift songs rather than on the merit of them being, you know, songs. This was the intended single - things didn’t really work out, more on that later - and I should warn you, I don’t like 1989 that much to begin with. It has some of her best singles but is also much less sonically cohesive than it should be and has some of her all-time worst songs, some of which were actually improved in this re-recording. This is still a finished song though, and a pretty decent one too, with Taylor sarcastically convicting herself of the “crime” of being lovestruck with a guy and losing her mind about him, but with the acknowledgement - and looming threat - of how the media and society as a whole treats women and their sexual relationships. You can kind of tell she wrote this before she started swearing because the title drop is so faint and sounds borderline accidental with her typical breathy delivery amidst an expectedly reverb-drenched synthpop instrumental. The harmonies in the pre-chorus are particularly beautiful and whilst I really don’t like the flat-feeling percussion, I understand it kind of comes with the material as far as it comes to indie-infused pop from the mid-2010s. For a song called “Slut!”, it does a lot to make itself sound kind of cute and bouncy, and I can appreciate that dissonance, especially on the oddly glitched outro which is a pretty nice surprise by the end of the track, which does kind of run its course at that point. Anyway, next.

#2 - “Now that We Don’t Talk” (Taylor’s Version) (From the Vault) - Taylor Swift

Produced by Taylor Swift and Jack Antonoff

Continuing the relationship story, we have a post-breakup track where Taylor reminisces but honestly most just bitches about this guy that she can no longer know the inner workings of because they don’t talk anymore. This one’s just fine. The lyrics have a similar level of detail but there are also just less lyrics to think about, and her falsetto in the chorus, as well as her generally staccato delivery, is kind of grating against a particularly rubbery synthpop backing that feels much more like an 80s pastiche than the other vault tracks. I guess she just really wanted to replicate the feel of the original album with this one. That’s not a compliment.

#1 - “Is It Over Now?” (Taylor’s Version) (From the Vault) - Taylor Swift

Produced by Taylor Swift and Jack Antonoff

Now this is what the fans essentially chose as the single, and I can see why because this is fantastic. From the slightly off-beat echoing vocal loops in the beginning of the track that seem to collude around this faint very 80s synth propulsion to the contradicting lyrical detail, anxiety is ridden through this confessional track about mutual infidelity taking place at the very end of a dying relationship. The drums have a real power to them, coming in alongside a bright synth flare that really hits hard in that pre-chorus, and the way that Taylor’s vocals handle the wordy, off-rhythm lyrics is really interesting, it’s like she’s constantly doing damage control for her own song, which devolves into bitter half-rapping with some of the best vocal takes I’ve ever heard from Taylor. This is what all of Midnights should have sounded like - Hell, it doesn’t even sound like it came from 1989, it sounds straight out of her recent work. Maybe it was just a timeless track, but I find it very difficult to imagine that Taylor - or Antonoff for that record - passed on what would be an absolute slam-dunk of a single nine years later. Either way, it’s here now, it’s excellent and we’ll see how long it lasts. I have a feeling it’ll be longer than we expect.

Conclusion

Well, ultimately, like I said, it was a very interesting week and honestly, a pretty great one where I’m excluding the Halloween tracks on the principle of novelty - they function less as real songs than even the Christmas tracks - but liked pretty much everything else, except Taylor Swift’s “Now that We Don’t Talk” which does get the Worst of the Week but batting 2 for 3 is not that bad at all, and she grabs the Honourable Mentions with both “Slut!” and especially “Is it Over Now?”. The Best of the Week… I mean it wasn’t ever a competition, was it? It goes to “Now and Then” by The Beatles as you could see from a mile away. Anyways, we start the holiday season with practically the next episode, with Taylor acting a send-off to… normal music, so be prepared for that. For now though, thank you for reading, goodbye to Matthew Perry - we’ll try to keep it down - and I’ll see you next week!

[kritischetheologie]

can we get a directors cut of whichever bit ur most proud of?

June 2014, Germany (spoilers below the cut)

[I was extremely proud of this scene, because I think it sets up some absolutely cruel dramatic irony, as well as a lot of the big philosophical questions of the fic, and did most of it in dialogue, which I really struggle with.]

In honor of the World Cup, he and Sebastian have gotten dressed up in their matching Mannschaft kits, Vettel 1 and Rosberg 6, and painted their faces schwarz-rot-gold, so that they can be filmed competing in a series of inane football-themed competitions. [The event in question actually happened and is my absolute favorite unhinged Nico and Seb video.]

Nico has never liked football as much as Vettel does, and he’s barely even German, but he’s always been more comfortable than him in front of a camera, so their little cross-promotional propaganda competition evens out in the end. [I didn't get into Nico's anxieties about his heritage as much as I might have expected to in this fic, because there was so much else that I was doing, but this internal narration is key Silver War Nico: keeping score at everything, cataloguing everyone's weaknesses, especially his own.] The alpha is so nervous Nico can smell it. [When I wrote this fic in my Three Google Docs, I wasn't sure which scenes would end up in which order, so I made sure to mention that Seb was an alpha the first time we introduced him in each of them.]

The most fun part comes when the interviewer starts asking them about how their respective seasons are going. The season is going a hell of a lot better for Nico than it is for Sebastian, that’s for sure. [Nico "if I am winning at f1 everything is ok" Rosberg.] 

Even if Seb does look like he’s never been happier, while he’s describing the sleepless exhaustion of new parenthood. [A thing that actually happens in the real video, and also a way of introducing the dilemma at the core of this scene, which is, of course, the central dilemma of the fic as well.]

Over the catered lunch—schnitzel, like it isn’t the middle of summer and they aren’t both on strict diets [Nico's relationship to food is another thing that I didn't end up digging into deeply, but wanted to gesture towards here]—Seb looks around to make sure no one is listening, before leaning in and saying, “It seems like you made the right choice, or? In the offseason, I mean.” [I love this whole dialogue. I'm usually really bad at capturing voice, but I love the little "or" (very german), and I love the hills like white elephants let's talk about abortion without saying the word abortion of it all, and of course, I love the extremely tragic dramatic irony that Seb thinks they're talking about abortion but they actually aren't. Anywhere this is what kicks it off, which establishes that there's a Serious Conversation happening (Seb making sure they're in private), that Something Happened in the 2013/2014 offseason, and that Seb knows about it. All absolutely crucial information for the reader to have]

Nico forces himself to chew the food in his mouth and swallow it. [Nico is extremely uncomfortable.] “It wasn’t much of a choice,” he says evenly. [It was very important to me that Nico not actually lie to Seb. Firstly, because I think it's harder to get the reader to come along with a twist if the narrator himself lied, even if he only lied to a character. But secondly, because I think explicitly lying would require Nico to think about what Actually Happened. If he says it was an abortion, he has to grapple with the fact that it wasn't. If he just sort of plays along vaguely, he can stay in that numb zone of well whatever happened it was all for the best so it might as well have been an abortion because I'm in the lead for the title so... I also think this line, and Seb's response, is one of the most tragic in the whole thing. Because Nico did choose, and he did have that choice taken away from him, and he's not ready to grieve that, but he can't pretend this was what he wanted.]

Seb nods eagerly. “I’m really glad you feel that way,” he says. “I know everybody makes it out to be this sort of huge decision—and I don’t mean to minimize the fact that it is, for so many people, but—but I’m glad you have that certainty, that you did the right thing. And hey,” he adds, laughing the way he always does before he makes a self-deprecating joke, “you’d have hated to miss this season, right?” [wooof. And here we twist the knife. Seb is trying so hard to be supportive-- and the more awkward the moment becomes the more supportive he gets, piling on words as it becomes clear that this is not going well, for whatever reason. I tried to make his awkwardness and discomfort clear to the reader, even if not to Nico. I also went back and forth with my betas about if it was clear enough to the reader, here, that Seb is talking about abortion. I almost changed it to say "I know everybody makes abortion out," but I decided in the end that the is-this-conversation-about-what-I-think-it's-about? vibe ultimately helps sell the twist; I the author ALSO never lie and say Nico had an abortion. I don't even have any of the characters say it. and in universe, they're alone, but not alone enough to actually say the word out loud, you know? But anyway let's talk about the tragic gap between something not being a choice because it's so clearly the right decision (how Seb sees it) and literally not being a choice.]

Nico draws his lips into a smile. “You’d still be losing,” he tells Sebastian, who cackles. [The patented 1-2 punch of the fake smile and the jab about how much better he's doing, a Silver War Special.]

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be winning,” he says, elbowing Nico in the ribs. “And someone’s got to make Germany proud.”

The schnitzel sits heavy in his stomach. “I’m trying my best,” he says. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation anymore. [As close as this Nico can get to acknowledging that he's having an extremely strong emotional reaction.] “Speaking of pride,” he says, keeping his tone casual, [which takes a concerted effort, because he's dying inside and about to be cruel on purpose, but wants to pretend that he isn't and he isn't.] “I imagine Mark’s got to be proud that his little baby teammate is all grown up and a father now.” [This ends up being the first time the reader hears about Seb and Mark, and I like the way it sets up the fundamental tension in their relationship: Seb's family vs his relationship with Mark. It's also an instance of Nico not being willing to admit that he's jealous that Seb has a kid, but not so coincidentally aiming for the one thing that would make having a kid a problem for Seb. There's a subconscious "fuck you, you get what I wanted, but look what it cost you" that Nico himself is too bitter and jealous to pick up on, as evidenced by his narration in a bit about how Seb doesn't have to sacrifice anything.]

Seb’s eyes go wide in his face. 

“Or maybe not,” Nico continues. [He knows he's got him.] “Have you spoken to him much since he retired? Or since your kid was born?”

Sebastian squirms in his chair. “We talk,” he says. 

Nico knows a cagey half-answer when he hears one. [This Nico is the king of cagey half-answers. See how many he just gave Seb, about the pregnancy.] “You never talked,” he says. Seb blushes below his face paint. [And this is the moment the reader learns that they were fucking. It also establishes a very particular dynamic of what Young Martian were to each other, a primarily passionate combative erotic thing, that they have outgrown by the time we check back in with them in 2020. They have personal growth too, it just happens mostly offscreen.] “Sorry,” Nico says without meaning it at all. [Nico gets a lot more willing to acknowledge his nasty emotions when those nasty emotions are anger than when they're grief.] “I’ll leave you alone. It’s none of my business how you reconcile work and family, or which one Mark is, to you.” [Again: even when he's trying to be mean, Nico is hung up on what feels like, to him, a fundamental conflict. Part of why I love this scene so much is that it really establishes the way Seb and Nico are narrative foils, living out two very different versions of some of the same tough questions, to an extent that they themselves don't even realize in this moment.]

He takes a sip of his Radler and watches Sebastian rearrange his mouth.

“You know as well as I do that the sacrifices this career demands of us aren’t always pretty,” Seb finally says. [Seb is pretty unhappy here: he's been supporting Nico about his abortion, and this is what Nico comes back with? Sebastian is a little more cued in than Nico is to the fact that they are narrative foils. This is a bit of a platonic hand in unloveable hand moment, like come on dude, we're all trying our best here right?]

His tone is friendly, conspiratorial. Nico could strangle him. [Nico! doesn't! want! to talk! about the pregnancy! and Seb!!! KEEPS!!!!! BRINGING!!!!!!!! IT!!!!!!!! UP!!!!!!!!!!!! -nico's nervous system, probably. Again with the substitution of anger for grief.] Four trophies in the cabinet, a beautiful wife at home with the baby, and an alpha pining for him in Australia. Seb’s never had to sacrifice anything. [A lot of Seb and Nico's later narrative arc is Nico's slow realization how wrong this assessment is, but it makes sense in this moment, where Nico is so fixated on the myriad ways he feels in thrall to his own biology-- he would have had to take at least a year off racing to have the baby, but then his body didn't even let him make that sacrifice, and now his relationship is falling apart, and he's racing well but he's never won and Seb's won four times and etc. etc.-- that he feels like Seb has discovered a cheat code to life that allows him to get every single thing Nico wants, all of the things that seem both mutually exclusive and individually unattainable. Seb gets to have it all and Nico gets none of it. Anyway the thesis of this fic is that nobody gets to have it all but everybody gets to be happy.]

“Such is the price of success,” Nico says, his voice level, before letting Sebastian change the topic back to football.

[mydarlinginej]

read my full review of you don’t have a shot by racquel marie here.

A queer YA romance about rival soccer players from author Racquel Marie, perfect for fans of She Drives Me Crazy.

Valentina “Vale” Castillo-Green’s life revolves around soccer. Her friends, her future, and her father’s intense expectations are all wrapped up in the beautiful game. But after she incites a fight during playoffs with her long-time rival, Leticia Ortiz, everything she’s been working toward seems to disappear.

Embarrassed and desperate to be anywhere but home, Vale escapes to her beloved childhood soccer camp for a summer of relaxation and redemption…only to find out that she and the endlessly aggravating Leticia will be co-captaining a team that could play in front of college scouts. But the competition might be stiffer than expected, so unless they can get their rookie team’s act together, this second chance—and any hope of playing college soccer—will slip through Vale’s fingers. When the growing pressure, friendship friction, and her overbearing father push Vale to turn to Leticia for help, what starts off as a shaky alliance of necessity begins to blossom into something more through a shared love of soccer. . . and maybe each other.

Sharp, romantic, and deeply emotional, You Don’t Have a Shot is a rivals-to-lovers romance about rediscovering your love of the game and yourself, from the author of Ophelia After All.

my review:

I fell in love with Racquel Marie’s debut, so naturally I was already anticipating whatever she would write next. I got even more excited when I read the summary: soccer sapphics and rivals-to-lovers no less! With a lot of heart and passion, You Don’t Have a Shot follows a girl as she must co-captain a team with her long-time rival at soccer camp.

Valentina Castillo-Green has been playing soccer for her entire life; it’s what introduced her parents and what’s allowed her to feel close to her mother after she passed. After a disastrous loss in the last game of her junior year against her rival Leticia‘s team, she finds herself at her childhood soccer camp with her two friends Dina and Ovie. There, Vale realizes winning the camp tournament might be her last chance to impress college scouts. There’s only one problem: her co-captain is Leticia, with whom she can barely hold a civil conversation. Throughout the summer, though, Vale gets to know her better, and for the first time in a long time, she begins to have fun playing soccer.

I really loved Vale’s character. She’s so focused on winning that she loses sight of a lot of other things, including her friends and just generally being a good person. She can be blunt and borderline cruel, but as we begin to learn more about her father, it’s clear that she’s internalized a lot of what he’s told her. Vale hates feeling like her father but she can’t help but act like him throughout the book, as she sometimes feels like she’s the only one who actually wants to win. Of course, this isn’t true, but I completely understand why she lashes out like she does.

read my full review here.

[roosterbruiser]

Girllllllll, I’m sorry for not reblogging the latest chapter of Cruel Summer until just now. I’m still learning tumblr (cause I’m old AF), I use a lot of other social media so I typically ‘like’ posts, but forget to reblog 😬. I read it in pieces yesterday because I’m on my 5th day of a 12 hour shift and crashed last night after work.

You are by far my favorite writer on here. You are so talented and write so well—much better than a lot of published authors I’ve read. You’ve actually kind of ruined reading for me lately because I can’t find anything to read that keeps my interest like you do. 😂 I really hope you decide to pursue a career in writing, I honestly think you could make it big.

I completely understand not wanting to post the next chapter, but I’ve turned on notifications so I can know exactly when you do so I can (sneak away from my patients at work🤫😂) read it!

😘

gosh this just lit my heart on fire!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I wanna say that I am absolutely not upset with anyone for not interacting with my story!! I do not expect everyone to reblog and comment or anything like that!! but just know that people like YOU who go our of their way to make writing so worth it!!

this is gonna make me cry!! I would love to pursue writing someday and your encouragement means everything to me!!

next chapter will be up today!! I hope you enjoy!!

[your-littlesecret]

you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favourite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag ten people! no skipping!

I absolutely love those things so thank you @singsweetmelodies for tagging me 🥰🥰🥰

I don’t usually do playlists, so I just put all my saved songs from spotify on shuffle and that was it. BUTTTT I gotta be honest, this turned out better than I expected cause I’ve got some pretty embarrassing shit in my liked music so…

Evoque prata (MC something-idk, don’t come @ me)

So nice (Carly Rae Jepsen)

Still into you (Paramore)

Colorado (Reneé rapp)

The very first night (Taylor’s version) (Taylor swift duh)

Cruel summer (Taylor swift)

Hotel caro (Baco Exu do Blues, Luísa Sonza)

Angel Eyes (but from the soundtrack of Mamma Mia! 2 obviously)

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE (Måneskin)

Surface Pressure (from the Encanto soundtrack)

This is actually basically my latest obsessions + some that I was obsessed a while ago probably 🤷🏼‍♀️

Well I’m not tagging anyone because half of my following in this site now are basically ghosts and I haven’t figured how to deal w that shit yet, also I’m not exactly interacting with anyone that frequently so.

(also as you can see by my taste in music I am a basic bitch and Taylor swift IS the queen of my heart, body & soul and I WILL fight anyone for her so yeah byeeeeeeeeeeeeee 🫧🫧

[supersupersupernatural666]

i just watched cruel summer and so many people are complaining about bad writing like babe it’s a freeform show what did u expect

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as lover

okay this isn’t edited again but I have a few things to say 1. thank you all for your continued support of these 😭 it’s so fun for me and it means a lot that you enjoy them. 2. this one is kinda long; I actually had a lot of inspiration for it so YAY I hope you like it andddd 3. thanks again to @lethekoo :)

jay as cruel summer

“I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate, & I screamed for whatever it's worth, ‘I love you’ ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?”

at first, I was having trouble deciding whether this song fit jay or heeseung better, because, imo, they both fit in different ways

cruel summer describes an exciting start to a relationship, but it’s especially unique because, from my interpretation, it also captures the guilt that comes with falling in love with someone while still in a relationship with someone else

& that’s probably why I associate it with multiple people LOL but I chose jay because he just fits the mold for someone that would steal your heart when you least expect it

if you happened to be with someone already, good fucking luck because this man would never leave my thoughts if I were you

anyways, if you haven't heard this song, you should definitely go listen to it. if I were to recommend one song from the album, it might be this one because it’s just so universally loved among taylor’s fans :)

heeseung as lover

“can I go where you go? can we always be this close forever & ever?”

BRO 😭 I’M SORRY IN ADVANCE TO ALL THE HEESEUNG STANS BECAUSE I KNOW THIS ONE HURTS TO THINK OF

“I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover” you really can’t tell me that isn’t something you say about heeseung you can't.

I think heeseung would have a relationship with you that’d be..so secure

you’d just be the couple that everyone would see & think “they’re perfect” & yes, you may not be, but it would be open–& when one of you was unhappy, you would work through it together

I also feel like jealousy would be minimal in a relationship like this

like you may get jealous, but you trust each other and it never would cause conflict more than once

ni-ki as the archer

“who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?”

this song is such a great representation of insecurities in a relationship (well...I wouldn't know, but I think it is LOL) & I think it all boils down to thinking that it’s too good to be true

I don't quite know why I associate it so strongly with ni-ki, but I think it may be because I can imagine him as either party–afraid of being left behind, or also the one that seems too great

one of the last lines of the song, “you could stay” just makes me want to sob because it’s as if you always have this internal conflict, but you’ve finally found the person who will stick with you through it UGH IT’S SO CUTE

jake as paper rings

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings, uh huh, that's right, darling, you're the one I want”

a relationship with jake would be a whole adventure. like…all the time. even if that just meant getting ice cream & fries at two a.m, there would rarely be a dull moment with him

& you’d just be so ready to spend your life with him that you wouldn’t think twice if he asked you to marry you (honestly, you would’ve said yes a month in, but he didn’t need to know that)

especially since paper rings is a friends to lovers anthem UGH it just fits jake so well 😭 and I can BET that one of the enha members, probably jungwon tbh, would’ve introduced you & then all of a sudden CLICK it would be like your whole life got brighter

I’m getting too into this it’s basically a headcannon now 💀

sunghoon as london boy

“they say ‘home is where the heart is’, but that's not where mine lives”

now before you guys come for my neck, I know sunghoon isn’t english. this isn’t about that LOL

being in a relationship with sunghoon would be so great because being with him would feel like being home 24/7 IF THAT MAKES SENSE

it wouldn’t matter whether you were halfway around the globe from everyone else or just a half hour away–it’d feel comfortable & safe when you were with him

& also FUN because learning more about each other’s family’s would be a whole event & he’d introduce you to his friends & be so proud bc his partner is just that cool HEHE

sunoo as me!

“'cause one of these things is not like the others, livin' in winter, I am your summer; baby doll, when it comes to a lover, I promise that you'll never find another like me”

I know that a lot of people dislike this song, but I think it’s really cute and has a fun concept so I WILL D*E DEFENDING IT (even though I don’t like brendon urie lmfao)

sunoo just gives me that “well, the people who love me for me are the people who I want to hold close” & yeah I don’t think anyone could quite love you like sunoo ☺️

not a single day would go by when you wouldn't be absolutely amazed by how the hell you pulled this man because he's just so amazing and lovable (seriously, how)

ngl...I totally thought about this after watching that moment in i-land when he’s talking to sunghoon and says “well...i’m cuter than jake lol” I hope you guys get what I mean because that was definitely a me! moment imo

jungwon as daylight

“& I can still see it all in my mind, all of you, all of me, intertwined; I once believed love would be black and white, but it's golden”

I can definitely see jungwon being this breath of fresh air after a series of toxic relationships

he’d teach you how real relationships should be & how well you deserve to be treated

& it’d be weird to you because you’d think that you had seen it all but in reality, there’s really someone for you who can give you a passionate yet healthy love & it doesn’t always have to be one or the other

okay brb gonna cry myself to sleep

txt version ☆ itzy version ☆ 1989 version ☆ masterlist

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[yungidreamer]

Farewell

Summary: The time at the summer cabin by the lake has come to an end and it is time for San to say... ‘see you again soon,’ to Alex because it could never really be goodbye. Things have changed between the trio and her family. The family as a whole is growing and changing even if no one is acknowledging it. It was a summer of change for everyone.

Wordcount: 5k

Content warning: this one is a little angsty, (I promise it will get better), discussion of longing and wanting to fit in, experimentation with relationship dynamics, feeling left out, loneliness, kissing, longing, falling in love, and separation.

The last night of the summer trip came all too soon for everyone. Yunho, Mingi, and their girl were all eager to get back to their life and home together, but it had also been wonderful to have time with San and Alex. For the first time, she also felt that this time out in the wilderness had actually done what her father had always wanted. She felt closer to her family than she had for years. For once she was a little sad to be leaving.

The house was bustling with activity as everyone packed up and tried to get the cabin spotlessly clean. She had finished packing her bags and Mingi had already come by to whisk them away to the van to get them out of her way as she cleaned. Her mind was only half on what she was doing. It wasn’t like it was the first time she had done all of this so her mind could afford to drift to other, more important matters. Something had changed while they had been here, she wasn’t sure what…but something.

Really, she told herself, a lot had changed. San had fallen head over heels for Alex with head-spinning speed. She would have expected nothing less from him. She hoped Alex was ready for it because once San decided something, changing his mind was difficult, to say the least. She had always liked them, but they had never been the best of friends. The both of them had mostly passed through each other's lives here and there but they had never had the opportunity to become more than good acquaintances.

She had always felt defensive of them and it had rubbed her the wrong way their father had always treated them. Even when they had tried to be the daughter their father thought they should be, Alex had never reached those unspoken expectations of who they were supposed to be. It had just always struck her as cruel and wrong. This time, she had really gotten the time to get to know them; to actually learn who they were. She genuinely liked Alex, especially the laughing, teasing, sarcastic person who came out more and more as they spent time with San.

As much as San seemed to be giving Alex the attention and affection that allowed them to be the person they really were, Alex was saving San equally. She knew that San was grateful to be part of the group and that he loved them all like family. He knew he was on the outside in some ways. He was a satellite in their little system. Aways a part of the whole, yet also on the outside looking in. She felt color rise on her cheeks at the memory of the time that San had tested being more with all of them.

Honestly, she admired his open-mindedness. When he had come to them and said he thought he might have feelings for them and that he wanted to test things she had been both surprised and not. He’d had a crush on her years ago and she knew that some part of that had never really gone away and maybe never would. Still, she didn’t think that alone had been enough to motivate his want to explore joining them. He’d actually asked if Yunho would if he would be comfortable letting him try first.

It had all been a mess mostly. The kiss between him and Yunho had been awkward from the very start. They both tended to be rather inclined to be the ones to take the lead in things and found it hard to navigate who ought to do what. In the end, Yunho had relented and let San cup his face and bring him to an angle where their lips could meet comfortably. The kiss they had shared had been oddly passionless for as much as they had tried to explore earnestly. They had parted with nervous and awkward laughter.

The test with Mingi had strangely gone slightly better. Not that there had been more chemistry, but Mingi had an easier time letting San set the pace. He’d also been more reserved and later had admitted that he’d felt a little like he was cheating even though they had all agreed and even with both of the others there and within arms reach. They’d parted with a dissatisfied sigh and didn’t even meet Mingi’s eyes before the other boy got up to join Yunho who was seated nearby on the other couch.

She’d gone last and their kiss was the only one that held even a hint of passion and even then, it was disappointingly one-sided. Feeling her lips on his finally, something he had fantasized about for literal years, had, in fact, felt…hollow. She’d tasted sweet and her lips had been as soft as he had always imagined. Everything about her had been exactly as he had pictured, everything except that it totally lacked that spark of passion he always saw whenever she touched either of the other boys.

When they had pulled apart San had felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He’d been unable to hold back a sob as the disappointment and futility hit him. Burying his face in his hands he wept as he let go of the hope he’d had of finding a place with them. They had all comforted him and assured him that he always had a place in their lives. He was family, he just wasn’t meant to be a part of that. He’d let go of that hope that he might find that sense of belonging that he yearned for as a part of their little group.

Things eventually went back to normal and they mostly acted as if it had never happened and he settled for being the satellite; always there but a little separate. She was so grateful that he had found them. There was something real and warm in the way that he looked at them. They had all known, whether all of them were willing to admit it or not, that San had still held a candle for her. Not that he ever expected to take the place of the boys, more that you could almost see the question of what if that clung to him like a spiderweb. Alex had brushed that away and given San a sense of what it felt like to have something that wasn’t just a shadow or a dream but held all the warmth of a sunny summer day.

On the other side, she was sure San was exactly what they needed. He was loyal to a fault, supportive, encouraging, and could see the good in someone and make sure they saw it in themselves. Alex had become too accustomed to being a tolerated second-class citizen in their own life. They never met their father’s approval and their mother didn’t care terribly much about anything aside from her own current hobbies and passions. Her child was little more than a supporting character in her story.

It had taken so little time for Alex to bloom in the time they had spent with the group. Of course, San’s doting was a major contributor, but just having people who didn’t trivialize their likes, talents, opinions, and interests was really allowing them to stop constantly feeling on edge. It was wonderful to see and yet she worried that it would take no time for all of that to disappear when they were back home, alone with parents that didn’t even make a bare effort to understand them.

“Can you make me a promise?” San asked Alex as they sat together on the edge of the dock, dangling their feet in the cool water.

“Maybe,” Alex looked at him. “I think it depends on what it is.”

“Call me every day,” he said, taking their hand and squeezing it. “And if you can’t call me, at least send me a message so I know you are okay.”

“I won’t disappear on you, I promise,” they agreed. “Just promise me that you’ll let me know when you…I don’t know…get tired of me…promise me that you’ll tell me.”

“I won’t,” he narrowed his eyes at them. “I’m not going to get tired of you so I don’t need to make that promise.”

“Then promise to let me know if anything changes or even if you just can’t find the time,” they pressed.

“I promise to always talk about things with you,” he offered. “Whether I’m busy or stressed or sad, I promise to tell you.”

“I’ll take it,” they chuckled and nodded.

“Okay, good,” San nodded, turning to look out at the water again. “I miss you already and you are still here beside me.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” they said, leaning into his shoulder.

“We’ll work on getting you into the art program first,” he stated, feeling a little lump in his throat as he felt the seconds they had together ticking away.

“If it doesn’t work out, it's okay, you know,” they assured him.

“It will work out,” he promised. “Don’t worry. And, when you come, I’ll be there to show you the ropes.”

“I’m sure you know it like the back of your hand,” they chuckled.

“Probably better,” he sighed. “During finals week this year I had a marker stain from a project I was doing and I didn’t notice it for four days.”

“How on Earth do you know how long it was there before you noticed?” They asked with a laugh.

“Well there was only one place I could have gotten it,” he explained with a self-deprecating smile. “It a was special marker that I only used with my friend in the art department. I have to use mineral oil to get it off so I know when I had to have gotten it and exactly how long it took me to notice.”

“Distracted, were you?” They tried not to take too much joy in thinking of the face he must have made when he noticed and had to trudge back to get the things he needed to clean himself up. Even knowing him for the little time that they did, they knew he couldn’t have stopped himself from making a dramatic face and letting out a few choice words before sighing and going off to do what he needed to clean it.

“Finals were hard this year, especially given the weird situation we had over the midterms,” he nodded.

“What happened with midterms?” They asked.

“Remember the storm we had in mid-December?” He asked, turning a little to read their expression. They nodded and he continued, “It hit in the week before finals and between the cold and all the snow, a lot of services and the city shut down. Some students couldn’t get to campus over some of the days when finals were supposed to be. The power got cut to some of the dorms, including mine. The schedule was sort of chaos. Some people canceled finals altogether, but that meant that your grade basically depended on your final grade. I had two of those classes.”

“Oh,” Alex looked out at the lake with a serious look. “Did it turn out okay? Were your grades good enough?”

“Yeah, they were all A’s or B’s,” he informed her.

“That’s good,” they confirmed. “I guess your dad was at least proud of that.”

“He hasn’t asked,” San said stiffly.

“Oh,” they shifted, wishing they hadn’t said anything.

“Chipmunk and the boys took me out for dinner though,” San smoothed things over with a big smile. “She’s always proud of me and checks on me.”

“She really loves you,” they said, feeling a little jealous of her. Was she really his first choice making them a good enough second because he could never have her?

“She is the family that I’ve always…needed,” He admitted. “I found her when I needed her the most and I’m so grateful that she found a place in her heart and her life for me. She had everything she needed already and she found a space for me. I’m grateful.”

“Are you in love with her?” They hadn’t really meant to ask, but they couldn’t stop themselves.

“No, not really,” San was able to concede. “She took me in when I needed it the most and has been a comfort I was in desperate need of. That’s the sort of thing that’s easy to mistake for something it’s not.”

“What does that mean?” They pressed.

“Just that,” he paused and sighed. “When you feel like you’re really alone in the world, sometimes you cling on to anything that gives you that feeling of belonging.”

“Isn’t that what love is?” They questioned.

“Yeah, it is,” he chuckled. “It's love but it’s not what being in love is.”

“How do you know?” They had never been in love, they could admit that, but they had also never had that kind of acceptance from people in their life.

“I…” he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I told you I’ve kissed them before.”

“Oh, right,” they vaguely recalled him mentioning something off-hand the first day they’d met.

“It wasn’t enough,” he stated. “The affection I have for Chipmunk, it’s not the same, and it’s not enough.”

“Right,” they nodded. They weren’t sure they understood, but they trusted San.

“Anyway, that kiss won’t be the one I’ll be thinking of when I go back to school,” He said meaningfully as he reached up to touch their face.

“Oh?” They asked, eyes searching his.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured.

“I miss you already,” they admitted softly.

“Me, too.” He smiled before he leaned in to touch his lips to theirs.

“Mingi,” her father called out as he came up behind the young man who was lifting one of the bags into the locking box on the roof of the van.

“Yes, sir?” He startled, fumbling the handle of the suitcase and nearly dropping it.

“Hey there,” her father chuckled, helping him lift it again, this time getting it into the right place. “Thanks for taking this out here. I was going to do it myself in a few minutes. You boys have been a real help this summer.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Mingi smiled and lifted his shoulders as he hugged himself happily. “It's been a great trip. I wanted to say thank you for letting us come along. I know this was supposed to be family time.”

“It was family time, kiddo,” he reached out and patted the younger man on his shoulder and gave him a fatherly smile. “You and Yunho are like members of the family at this point. Never expected to have so many sons but I can’t say I’m not happy for all four of them now.”

Mingi smiled and blinked at him, completely unsure what he was supposed to say. Her father had always been warmly tolerant of both he and Yunho. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been kind and welcoming, simply that he had been a little prickly, especially when it came to how much time his daughter spent with them.

“Anyway, come on,” Her father cleared his throat and gestured toward the cabin. “There’s still some stuff we have to do.”

“Yeah,” Mingi agreed quickly, both eager to please him and glad that he didn’t have to figure out something to say to that.

“Yunho, can you help me with something?” Her mother called from the kitchen as he passed by on his way to his next chore.

“Of course,” Yunho grinned brightly and made his way towards where she was standing, hands full of things she was using to make the last lunch they would all have before hitting the road home.

“I seem to be in need of three or four hands at the moment,” she joked with a sigh. “Can you hold this up while I pour?”

“Sure,” he nodded, putting his hands on the sides of the container to hold it upright.

“You’ve always been a helpful boy,” she chuckled. “Our daughter was lucky to find such good guys in you two.”

“She brings out the best in everyone around her,” he replied. “We’re lucky to have her…as a friend.” He added the last bit as it occurred to him how it might have sounded.

“Well now, I think you all are a little more than friends, now,” She concentrated on finishing what she was doing, feigning a lack of seriousness in what she was saying. “You guys have been around long enough, and you’re important enough to all of us to be family at this point.”

“Right, of course,” Yunho agreed, feeling his heart in his throat but trying to hold it down. For a moment he thought she had implied something else, something true but that she didn’t…shouldn’t know.

“I know you take good care of my daughter,” she told him, taking over the holding of the container and releasing him from his job now that she had said her piece. “If I didn’t think you would take good care of her, I would have objected to all of you being roommates when you went off to college. Having you both there helps me know that she’s safe.”

“We’d never let anything happen to her,” he promised.

“I know,” she flashed him a smile before looking back at what she was doing. “Anyway, thanks for the help, I think I have the rest. I know you have a few things left to do before we go.”

“Okay,” he stepped back and started to make his way out of the kitchen and towards what he had been about to do before. He looked back briefly before walking out the doorway, sure there was something, some undercurrent to the conversation that he hadn’t really understood. She didn’t look at him and simply worked on finishing the meal without looking at him, as if they hadn’t stopped to talk at all.

Maybe he was wrong, he told himself, as he walked off. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’s missed something.

“Alex,” She called, as she came near to the doc where they were sitting with San, watching the ripples on the water of the lake.

“Oh hey,” they greeted. Beside them San turned to offer her a bright smile. “Time to go already?”

“Almost,” She replied sadly as she came to stand behind the pair. “The packing is almost done but mom made some food for everyone. It's a couple of  hours drive so a meal before we go is a good idea.”

“I guess this means it's time to say goodbye then,” they turned to San, feeling the lump grow in their throat.

“Come and have a bite with us,” she interrupted. “There’s enough for everyone and I know you and your folks will be leaving a few hours after us. But I’m glad they decided to stay the extra week here so that we all had more time with you.”

“You’re sure I won’t be in the way?” They asked, eager to go, but concerned about intruding.

“Nah, come on,” she smiled. “No need for farewells just yet.”

The pair stood up and followed her back to the cabin where everyone else had already gathered, piling their plates with the leftovers of the food. Her mother had told everyone to take what they wanted as she wasn’t planning on packing up any of the leftovers. San and Alex both grabbed plates and piled some of the various foods onto them. San mostly took sausages and potato salad, his two favorite things, while Alex grabbed pasta salad, pickles, mixed greens, and some chips. They grabbed those as they liked them well enough and it seemed to be what was mostly being left behind by everyone else.

San took a seat at the kitchen table for nearly the first and the last time in his visit to the cabin with the family. He pulled the seat next to him out and gestured to Alex, indicating to them that they should sit down beside him. They obliged, setting their plate on the table and taking the offered chair. San reached out and patted their leg as they sat down beside him.

“Is that enough,” he asked, looking at the lighter fare on their plate.

“Yeah, it will be fine,” they agreed, taking a bite of the food.

“Okay,” San nodded and shoveled a big bite into his mouth before putting his silverware down so that he could hold their hand as he slowly chewed the food. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. The time they had together now was fleeting and San wanted to drink in every moment he could with them. He wanted to remember how their hair stuck out a little at their brow line, that freckle they had below their left ear, and the way their shoulders hunched just a little less when they listened to the friendly chatter of the trio of friends that were the whole reason they had met at all. He was so lucky to have them all in his life.

After they left, he promised himself, he would remember to thank Chipmunk again. She always seemed to be improving his life without ever realizing that she was. He owed her so much more than he could have ever hoped for. He definitely owed her more than he would ever be able to repay.

“What’s that serious look you have there,” they asked him, having been watching his face since they sat down beside him.

“Just thinking about how lucky I happen to be,” He gave them an enigmatic smile and reached out to run a thumb over the line of their high cheekbone.

“It’s easy to forget the good things we have sometimes,” they agreed before taking another bite.

“And sometimes so many good things happen all at once, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been hit in the face with it all,” San laughed, casting a glance at the people he now called family.

“That sounds… painful,” they finally settled on the word after a second or two of searching for it.

“You know,” he admitted with a scoff. “It kind of is.”

Alex reached out and took his hand. They leaned in to give his cheek a light kiss. It was meant to be nothing more than a gentle reassurance, but San caught them, cupping their face as he pressed his forehead against them.

“I won’t let this be goodbye,” he promised.

“I believe you,” they nodded against him.

She sat in the back corner of the large van in the seat behind Yunho. Much as she would have loved to sit between her two boys, she and Jacob were the only ones who could fit in the seat behind them comfortably. So rather than wedging herself in between her two favorite people, she had been banished to the back corner. It was for the best, she laughed to herself. She didn’t need that sort of temptation while she was around her family.

The van rocked as first Jacob, then San climbed in to join her in the back seat. Jacob settled into his seat and pulled out his switch and headphones, happily absorbing himself back into the game he had been playing earlier in the day. San settled down in between them in the middle spot of the long connected bench seat at the back. He clicked the seatbelt over his hips and then turned to gaze out the window at Alex who was still standing off to the side, waiting and watching them leave.

He couldn’t help it, his eyes locked on them, watching and continuing to take them in as long as he could. They looked pretty and sad and resigned as they stood there. He wanted to get out and grab them, take them in his arms and hold them there. It was so unfair that he had to leave them alone with their parents. The van doors closed in a series of dull thuds and still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them.

The engine roared to life and half a moment later gravel crunched under the wheels as the van started to pull away. Alex waved and stepped into the driveway to watch them for as long as possible as it slowly pulled away. San turned in his seat and kept his eyes on them as they slowly got smaller and then finally disappeared as they turned down the first kink in the road home. Even after they were no longer in view, he kept himself turned, as if sheer will would keep her in view.

He finally gave up when they hit the main road and the sound of the wheels quieted to a scraping buzz as they gripped the asphalt road. A hand moved to hold his, offering a comforting squeeze and a warm confidence as it gripped his. She didn’t say anything, and there was nothing she could have said to make him feel any better. San could feel the churning pain twisting his heart as he thought about going back home and going back to school…being alone again.

This summer break had been a sort of double-edged sword for him. He felt closer to Chipmunk, the boys, and even her father and mother than he had to anyone in a while. They were his people, they were his family. He had gained a sense of belonging and being wanted he hadn’t quite known he was missing. This was the time in his life he was supposed to be gaining independence and self-reliance, he was feeling more reliant on the people around him right now than he could remember.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered to himself, lacing his fingers with hers as he let his head lul forward.

“Hmm?” She asked from beside him.

“Does it ever get easier,” he asked quietly, leaning closer to keep others from hearing.

“What?” She pressed, listening but averting her gaze to give him space.

“Being in love,” he barely managed to hiss out past the tightness in his chest.

“Never,” she admitted with a quiet but harsh laugh. “But it does get better. It somehow seems to always get better.”

“Okay,” was all he could manage. Her hand came up to cradle the back of his head to encourage him to rest his head on his shoulder. San gave up and let the longing and loneliness rise and flow out of him as she gently soothed him. A quiet, warm tear escaped his eye and seeped into the cotton of her shirt where he rested his head on her shoulder. It would be okay, her gentle touch assured him, but it was also okay to hurt when it felt so painful to say farewell.