#might as well start tagging things for Season 3

[erwinsvow]

𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.

author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!

now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)

word count: 13.5k

warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!

“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it’s hard to find any more tears.  

You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.

And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.

“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”

“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek. 

“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.

“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him.

“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.

And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.

But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.

If only you knew. 

Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears. 

౨ৎ

“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family. 

“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink. 

“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.” 

“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”

“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches. 

“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.

You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.

When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket. 

You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.

He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.

“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.

“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”

“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?” 

“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”

“Oh yeah, international law, right?”

“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control. 

“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”

“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back. 

“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why. 

“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.

“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.

“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.

“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.

“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with. 

“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back. 

“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.

“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away. 

“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”

“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.

“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking. 

“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.

“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”

“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.

“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.

“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”

“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.

“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features. 

“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.

“Yeah, me either, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.

“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”

“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.” 

“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.

“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.

“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.

“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.

“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”

“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”

“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.

“Not yet, you’re not.” 

“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”

“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought. 

“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act. 

He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.

The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.

But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.

He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning. 

“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting. 

“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him. 

“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”

You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.

Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.

Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house. 

“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off. 

“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.

“Nothing.” 

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you. 

“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”

You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.

౨ৎ

You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.

The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now. 

You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore. 

It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.

That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.

You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now. 

You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them. 

Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much. 

This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.

“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.

You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.

“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes. 

Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.

And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it. 

But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t. 

And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life. 

You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same. 

You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone. 

There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.

So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!

In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet. 

You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it. 

Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.

“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding. 

“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.

“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled. 

“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”

“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.” 

You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured. 

“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”

“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”

“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.

“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”

You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again. 

“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough. 

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.

“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.

“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.

“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him. 

“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.

“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“I-I…I just-”

“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand. 

“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.

“How’m I gonna eat mine then?” 

“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister. 

“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?” 

“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy. 

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?” 

“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.

“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?” 

You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you. 

“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.

A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.

“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.

“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”

“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily 

“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”

“My sister’s always got boy problems.”

“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”

“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”

You laugh while Wheezie frowns.

“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”

“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.

“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.

She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second. 

“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”

“Yeah.” 

Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.

“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door. 

“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”

“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.

“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”

“Huh?” he questions.

“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.

“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”

“She.”

“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”

“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”

“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”

That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened. 

౨ৎ

The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera. 

The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away. 

R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?

that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.

R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?

so she deserves death????

R: The impound lot at the very least

if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it

R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are

did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?

R: No.

R: Ur fault. You gave her yours

you gave her yours too

and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault

R: She’s five, genius

R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid

౨ৎ

Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count. 

And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation. 

But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.

But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers. 

You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.

You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth. 

You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done. 

“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on. 

You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.

Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.

You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.

The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there. 

You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.

You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.

“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs. 

“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”

“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”

“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.

You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.

“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them. 

“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her. 

“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around. 

“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again. 

“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.

“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”

“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”

“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.

R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house

R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you

“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.

“What’s inside? I thought-”

“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”

“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.

“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”

You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you. 

Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.

“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple. 

“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist. 

“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.

You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about. 

You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are. 

You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.

“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out. 

You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.

Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.

And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.

At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.

“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup. 

“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?” “Why?” it comes out a whisper.

“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?” 

The way he says it you believe him. 

You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want. 

You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.

“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?” 

His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this. 

“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.

He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it’s never enough for you. 

It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck. 

He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone. 

Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.

Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way. 

౨ৎ

A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.

It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get

along,  but they look like they’re fine now.

“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.

“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”

“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”

“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly. 

“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.

“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months

ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.

“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”

You guess that God was on your side today. 

R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?

sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn

R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?

you know me so well

R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.

You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.

Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.

You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.

The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.

“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”

“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.

A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.

“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel. 

“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”

“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”

“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”

“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”

“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.

“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.

“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”

“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.

“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.

“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”

“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”

“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”

“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire. 

“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?” 

“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.

“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”

“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”

“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race. 

“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”

“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.” 

And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron. 

“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away. 

“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”

The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence. 

“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.” 

You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.

౨ৎ

Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath. 

Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you

Princess: please rafey

“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.

“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.

“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.

“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-” “Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”

“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”

“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”

“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.

“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.

“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside. 

He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”

Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.

“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”

Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered. 

“Make you forget?” he questions. 

“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been. 

There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.

“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.

His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.

You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.

“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”

You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.

“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.

“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.

His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it. 

“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down. 

“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.

Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.

The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.

His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.

His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.

You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once. 

You let out a scream—which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it. 

His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again. 

You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed. 

Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.

Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to

touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.

“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”

“I tried, daddy, I did-”

“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”

“No, I did, I swear-”

“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.

“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.

“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed. 

“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.

“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”

You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted. 

He looks up again. 

“You ready, kid?” 

“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.

You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him. 

“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.

“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”

“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.

“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.

“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set. 

You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.

He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again. 

You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.

“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”

And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.

“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.

A few minutes pass by.

“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.

Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.

“Feel better, kid?” 

“So much better, Rafey.” 

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.

JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?

౨ৎ

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft. 

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex. 

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea." 

"They are." 

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked. 

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch. 

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable. 

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late. 

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby. 

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours. 

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon. 

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar. 

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration. 

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do. 

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight. 

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world. 

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear. 

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that. 

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?" 

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that. 

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts. 

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…? 

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting. 

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave. 

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal. 

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want. 

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing. 

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force. 

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…" 

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped. 

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes. 

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come– 

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!" 

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears. 

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor. 

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two. 

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 13 - I-T-G-I-R-L, You Know I am That Girl

So this chapter is a little different. As well all know, the reader is an ICON and no one is near her level and she will do some iconic things in 2024

Look out for the dates to see how the time line goes (its a bit all over the place so I apologize but this will end with the start of the F1 Season with her clip in the Formula One Intro for every race and some other little things.)

And I know most of the pictures I used were Max but we play pretend here :D

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN

February 20, 2024

acrosstheline.podcast we are so privileged to have sat down with y/n.89 for this all exclusive interview where we discussed her opening races, femininity in male-dominant sports, and what it takes to be a racer - read now in our special edition

liked by y/n.89, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 751,836 others

lilymhe is this what you've been working on! so so proud of you

y/n.89 hehe it is! and love you too - tell Alex that I'm taking you alex_albon I'm right here y/n.89 and? lilymhe gagged him

y/n_updates OH MY GOSH OUR GIRL'S FIRST MAGAZINE

y/n_lover and hopefully not the last! y/n.89 definitely not y/n_updates SHE RESPONDED?!

change_ur_f-car the questions were top notch! good to see interviewers who aren't looking to poke and prod for a reaction

y/n.nation favorite quote - "I never thought I'd podium on my first race - let alone finish it in the points. I hope that this means that this season will be good. I've always said that I was born to break records - and I'm glad to see that I wasn't lying."

formula1fanatic this was beautifully written, I was skeptical about her joining - but now I have no doubts. she truly belongs in the car to win

May 15, 2024

duke Y/n L/n has taken the Motor Sport World - and everyone else - by storm. we had the opportunity to sit down with the rookie and discuss the inside feelings that might take over during the pressures of her first year. these are the unfiltered thoughts of y/n l/n.

liked by charles_leclerc, formula1, and 284,937 others

y/n-lover MOMMY, sorry, MOTHER, sorry, MOMMY

maxiel_obsessed glad you put my thoughts into words

y/n'soneandonly can arthur_leclerc fight? post up frenchman

charles_leclerc he's MONEGASQUE

girls4girls this is the moment I became a fan

89_all-the_way "I looked around one time and really thought about how I was the only female racer. I was waiting for the doubts to creep in but instead pride found its way into my soul. I made it and no one can stop me" WHAT AN ICON

box-box literally one of my favorite moments number1y/n-fan I love her so much

maxverstappen1 where is your shirt young lady?

y/n.89 its called fashion - something you haven't heard of mr. I only wear RedBull merchant lewishamilton glad to see you went with my outfit suggestion georgerussell33 what was wrong with my suggestion!? y/n.89 I was not about to wear a Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit

francisca.gomez loml - so proud of you girly

y/n.89 thanks kika! tell pear I want you back

pitstopfailure BARK BARK BARK BARK

October 7, 2024

voguemagazine "I think that I was born for this. there's nothing else I'd rather be doing than getting in my car every weekend and putting my life on the line for the sport I love," says Y/n L/n. Her days are directed by high speeds, training, and breaking records.

liked by kellypiquet, lewishamilton, and 820, 184 others

redbullracing that's our rookie!!

emotionalsupport-rivals and everyone liked that bullsrunred they are everything to me your honor

verstappensfam first kelly, then y/n! now max just needs a vogue addition

y/n.89 oh I'm working on it!

y/n-on-top they hit us with that "no one is on her level. they may be close, but we haven't seen talent like this since Lewis Hamilton's rookie year. even then, it feels different - she's different."

iamred-iamyellow and then they follow up with "her poise and composure are unmatched. she wins and maturely celebrates, she doesn't too well in the race - she takes it to heart and fixes it. she is everything a formula 1 driver aspires to be."

y/n.89 BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!!!!!!

oscarpias-tree the way her birthday is right in the middle of Max's and Arthur's birthdays y/nxarthur exactly 7 days after max's and 7 days before Arthur's

December 4, 2023

time Y/n L/n (y/n.89) is TIME's 2024 Woman of the Year.

In her freshman season of Formula 1, L/n talks about her phenomenal rookie year, carving her spot into the sport, and the up's and down's of the expectations that were on her shoulders.

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, and 926,824 others

y/n-lover LETS GO!!!!!!!

maxverstappen1 so so proud

taylorswift congratulations y/n.89! you deserve this and everything!

y/n.nation that's our girl right there - woman of the YEAR

y/n.89 why is everyone tagging me in this post??

landonorris uh, did you even look at it??? oscarpiastri you were announced woman of the year? y/n.89 oh. boxbox_nightmare where'd she go logansargeant oh she's screaming right now - I can hear her though the walls y/n.89 LOGAN

y/n_updates everything about this article changed the way I think about life

lestappenlove this is my Roman Empire

December 20, 2024

motorsportsproduction The "Minds of Champions" special issue is out now!

We thank sebastianvettel, maxverstappen1, and y/n.89 for sitting down with us for this exclusive. Inside you will find separate as well as joint interviews from the drivers.

liked by arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 2,947,935 others

lastlaplando the way they had not only y/n and max but SEBASTIAN VETTLE TOO

vettelsvetos this is everything to me, I know y/n isn't a champion yet but the way she talks and acts - she's truly champion material

emotionalsupport-rivals max, y/n, and Sebastian are the perfect trio, I could see them win a Le Mans race one day

box_box oh my gosh yes - they'd be the perfect line-up

redbullracing our three generations: past, present, and future

sebastianvettel thank you for having me - it was a special time

y/n.89 it was so good to see you again seb! planning my Switzerland trip as we speak maxverstappen1 am I invited? charles_leclerc Sebastian's favorites ONLY maxverstappen1 then why are you still here? y/n.89 shots fired (you're all wrong - I'm the favorite) landonorris popcorn is out and the girls are fighting

landonorris sad I wasn't invited for this interview

motorsportsproductions next time mr. Norris, next time

y/n.nation half of these interviews made me cry

y/ndoesiconicshit so, y/n dyed her hair navy and red just for a RedBull commercial? she is COMMITTED - sad that she eventually got back to her blond hair

liked by lastlaplando, maxiel-lover, and 170 others

y/n.nation sorry to tell you but these were wigs, y/n mentioned it once in an interview :(

y/ndoesiconicshit NOOOOOOOOOOO y/n-on-top her hair would have been crispy af if she actually dyed it

formula1fan when I tell you I switched teams because of this commercial

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n put out bts pictures of her first photoshoot and lemme tell you - I am in LOVE

liked by y/n.nation, pitstopfailure, and 239 others

f1-today this photoshoot was everything to me

y/n-loves-me people better be glad that y/n chose to be a driver and not a model

formula_uno the way that half the drivers could be models if they quit their day jobs

y/n_updates those pictures are on my wall

y/ndoesiconicshit apparently y/n wasn't ready when Max came to pick her up before media day - so she got ready in the car (what a queen)

liked by y/n-lover, y/n_fan, and 361 others

piastri_81 the way she's so unbothered, in her vlog from that day she sounded so chill while max was freaking out about being late

icon-y/n I quote "max what would they do? fire us? yagirl89 the follow up "YES" and then the "oh" had me dying

lastlaplando her skin is flawless - she needs to drop that skincare routine asap

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n's birthday was wild - y/n hinted at what happened but nothing was confirmed. all we know is that the wags took her out to celebrate the night of and they all went radio-silent (max and Arthur were panicking)

liked by change_ur_f-car, formula1fanatic, and 613 others

f1_wags apparently they went to a club where phones weren't allowed for privacy reasons

y/ns_oneandonly the leaked videos tho were hilarious

y/n-and-wags but the outside videos of Arthur and Max coming to get her melted my heart

maxiel-lover i NEED the details like water - y/n better drop them

y/ndoesiconicshit y/n at the premier of the Formula 1 film "Can't Catch Me" starring Tom Holland - when she stepped out on the red carpet ALL cameras went to her, like no one else was photographed during this time

liked by y/n.89, arthurxy/n, and 729 others

tomholland-fan DID ANYONE NOTICE Y/NS CAMEO THO

y/n.nation I thought that woman looked familiar! y/n.89-love where was she! I'll go back and watch it just to find her tomholland-fan it was when Tom's character needed to go to the mechanics for his Honda - she was the one he talked to and she was also at the end race as a engineer as well!

RedBull.nation the way everyone held their breaths when she stepped out of the car, the only sound was the clicks of the cameras and then the crowd just erupted in a roar to get her attention

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Start of the actual chapter!

Your sunglasses sat perched on your nose as you sat in the back seat of whatever rental you were in for the day. Your fingers swiped the screen of your iPhone, constantly switching videos before they could even finish. Vito sat next to you, looking out the window as he talked to someone on the phone. Words about contracts, signings, photoshoots, and interviews rattled around in the car. The driver turned the wheel as he pulled up to the studio. The car lurched as it came to a stop. 

Vito quickly hung up on the phone with a short goodbye. You turned off your phone before you stepped out of the car. 

“What was that all about?” you asked as he guided you to the front of the building. 

You heard the click of his phone as he locked it and opened the door. You said a quick thank you as you were blasted with the air conditioning. 

“Just some calls I had to make. Lots of people are wanting to interview you kid. I have to make sure that they’re not just using you or plan to ask you stupid questions.” His fingers flew over the screen, probably typing yet another email. 

You just nodded. Vito had taken care of you for so long, he’d take care of you now. You knew how dangerous the media was, especially as a woman in your occupation. 

The two of you followed a long hallway down to a big room where cameras and other filming equipment were set up. Right now, Max was in the middle in his racing suit working on poses. Since he was the 2023 champion, you guessed he’d be doing what he did last year and the year before. But you’ll have people know you tried to convince him to do an actual pose, but he was resilient against your puppy eyes. 

You however had no clue what pose you were going to do. So, you were really hoping that someone would be able to assist you. 

Max quickly glanced at you and shot you a smile before being directed to pay attention. His smile melted and his stone-cold façade showed up. You wanted to shiver since you knew that Max was this big softy that had been broken down by the villainous persona that had been built by cut scenes and misplaced wording. You’d rather go back in time to tell little Max that he wasn’t the big monster everyone said he was than win a world championship. But because time travel hasn’t been confirmed – yet, you’d stick with helping present Max and work toward your own championship. 

You were ushered to a small changing room where your new race suit was hung up. Your fireproofs were neatly folded and were lying on the small bench. The shoes sat next to them. This year, the suits were a bit different. Max and you had voiced how much you liked the matte gold and navy look. Yes, the navy and red were the big staple colors of Red Bull, but you could do well with a little pizzaz. 

So the design team listened and made the red a sub color. The lettering and stripes down the sides were gold. The bulls on the main logos were gold as well. Red lined the seams as well as being the main color for all the sponsorship logos. 

The one thing that Max was happy about was that the hats stayed the same. He had too many from the year before to not be able to wear them. You didn’t see the appeal as you were more prone to hat hair than he was. 

You put on the all navy fire proofs before stepping into the thicker race suit. You kept the outer layer on your hips as you sat down on the bench to lace your shoes. Standing up, you noticed a mirror. You walked over and just took a moment to look at yourself. 

Possibly for once in your life, you liked the way you looked. The once dark circles under your eyes had finally gone away with some good sleep. Your hair looked more shiny and healthy and you had put on some good weight in the form of muscles that were needed to steer the car. Your trainer had put you through vigorous training, but it was all to help you prepare. 

A knock on the door let you know that they were ready for you. Vito stood to the side with your 2024 helmet. You were known for switching your helmet almost every other race in Formula 2. Your argument was that you just had too many good ideas not to use them. To keep it simple, you went with a full navy helmet with gold logos to match the suits. 

Some of the Red Bull team had mentioned that your helmet looked similar to Sebastian Vettel’s helmet. You only shot them a sly smile, basically telling them everything they needed to know. And it’s not like you didn’t know the German racer, quite the contrary. And did he give you his blessing to take inspiration from his glory days at Red Bull? The probability was huge. 

But again, people really didn’t need to know that either. 

All you knew was that the helmet matched to a tee, and it would be lucky to be used for more than 10 races. You had a list where you’d use special helmets. Vito was already on it with getting them ordered. You didn’t pay him to not order multiple custom helmets per year. He was already used to your antics. 

You shook hands with multiple people before walking over to Max. You took your place next to him. 

“So what’s the plan. I go left, you go right, and we leave with a giant explosion behind us? Taylor Swift Bad Blood style?” 

Max wheezed through his nose, not expecting your full-proof plan. 

From behind, Vito spoke up, “There will be no explosions. Here’s the plan. The producers talked to me and they actually want Y/n’s segment to go last as like a ‘surprise’.”

You interrupted him, “But people already know I’m driving.” 

Vito sighed before continuing. “I know. It doesn’t make sense but they’re the bosses for today. So they want Max to hold your helmet, turn to the left and hand it off screen. Then the camera would cut to you ‘taking it,’ you’d look down, and then put it on.” 

Your hands flew up. “So I don’t get to do the pose I rehearsed and Max doesn’t get to continue to look dead inside?” 

Max looked at you and squinted. “You didn’t have a pose ready. You were just texting me and panicking that you didn’t have one.” 

You only pouted after his confession. 

Max went ahead and redid his segment. This time, he did manage to do a little smile, just because you were the one taking the helmet and you made a weird face at him. 

The film techs said that the last take with the smile was the best one. And to Max’s chagrin, it would be the one to be used in the official video. 

You were told to stand on the massive X in the middle of the background. You were looking around at all the lights as someone helped you fix your hair. You hadn’t done anything pretty with it because it wasn’t realistic. You had never curled your hair and done anything special with it on race day. People would always find your hair in a braid, bun, or a Founding Father’s ponytail. And today was no different. 

You took a bit of time to actually make a nice braid that sat on your shoulder. Made you feel a bit like Katniss Everdeen. 

Speaking of, you wanted to have a little bit of fun. Your nickname wasn’t Kid for a reason.

“And action.” 

Your hand scrunched into three fingers that rose to your mouth for a kiss and then was lifted above your head. 

“I volunteer as tribute!” 

A couple of giggles filled the studio. Max and Vito were trying their best not to laugh out loud too much behind the camera. 

“Cut! Let’s try it again!” 

Your segment took about three more tries to get correctly. One of them, you accidentally dropped your helmet. Another, the helmet wouldn’t go on properly with your braid on your shoulder so you had to move it and undo it, so that you didn’t look like you didn’t have hair – the ponytail worked better. And then the third take was perfect. 

Max had been the one to hand you the helmet off screen and you did the opposite that he had done. You started off with a small smile, before going cold faced when you put the helmet on. You tried not to giggle once the thing was one since it felt weird without the balaclava. But you managed to keep your shoulders still until the man yelled Cut once more. 

You, thankfully, were allowed to now go change out of the hot suit. A Red Bull manager was the one to take the suit from you and hold on to it until preseason testing, which was going to be in a few weeks. You knew that when you said goodbye to Max as the place, it wouldn’t be too long until you would see him again. 

Wasn’t like you were ten minutes away, or that you didn’t work together, or that you somehow had the same simulator testing times just to catch up on what you missed during the week. But during the last few weeks, you spent more time with Arthur. 

He had called you in tears once he finally got confirmation that he was going to be out of Formula 2 and then cried once more when he had to leave the Ferrari Academy program. Your heart just ached and ached for him when you held him. 

You remember when he finally opened up a few nights after. 

You were bundled up in a giant blanket. He had come over to your apartment since Charles was staying with their mom for a few days while his apartment was being remodeled. Arthur’s head was tucked in your neck as a random movie played on the screen. 

He had finally spoken up. 

“You know. I really knew from the moment that I couldn’t continue karting all those years ago that racing just wasn’t for me. It never was.” 

You looked down at his face that was stained with tears. “Thur, don’t say that.” 

He only shrugged. “It’s true. If it wasn’t maybe Papa would have chosen for me to continue racing. And I know I begged Charles to be selfish, but maybe now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”

Your hands grabbed his face and made him look up at you. 

“Please don’t say that. Please.” 

By now, you had your own tears staining your face. 

“Because if you weren’t in Formula 2 this year, I would have never met you.” You took a breath. “My best friend wouldn’t be my best friend without it.” 

His eyes closed as he nodded little nods, almost as if he was having a hard time excepting what you called the truth. 

“I just feel like I don’t have a purpose anymore. You and Charles have racing, Maman has her store, and Lorenzo has the business. I have nothing.” 

Your arms wrapped around his figure. “We’ll find something and figure it out together. If anything, you can follow me to all my races.” You had a shit-eating grin on your face. A small laugh escaped his lips and you took that as a win. 

“What, and be your WAG?” 

You elbowed the Monegasque. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’m going for. I think I’ll have separation anxiety without you.” 

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Or unless I find something else.” 

“That’s all I ask. For you not to give up Thur. We’re in this new world together.” 

Arthur, feeling bold, laced his hands with yours. You were thankful for the dark room so he couldn’t see your red cheeks. 

“Together.”

And together is what you did for the remaining weeks. You and Arthur scoured every possibility he had to get back into racing. You reached out to many people – people who knew your godfather well and had helped you back with karting. You also reached out to many other people who normal fans didn’t know you knew. 

On this list, which Arthur had a hard time believing, were people like Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Jensen Button, and Nico Rosberg. 

Arthur had tried to persuade you to not go to all your famous connections, but you were on a mission. He even threatened you that he wouldn’t take any offer since he didn’t want you to feel like he was using you. You only threatened him back when you told him that you wanted to do this and didn’t mid at you. You believe that you scared him since he never questioned you again. 

It was the day before preseason testing in Bahrain before you got an offer, or actually two, back. Arthur, keeping his promise to follow you until he found something, came with you. He was under the guise of being with his brother for support, but most knew that he was actually there for you. 

The first one came from a face time call from four time champion Sebastian Vettel. 

“Kind, it’s good to see you!” Sebastian’s voice echoed in your hotel room. Your laptop was on the desk. You sat on the second bed while Arthur sat in the rollie chair. Before, the two of you had argued about who got what seat. You sadly lost the game of rock-paper-scissors and was banished to the bed. 

“It’s good to see you too Seb! How are your kids?” 

A squeal could be heard from behind his office door. Sebastian smiled at the sound of his children. 

“They’re doing just fine. How are you doing Arthur? I know that losing a seat is hard but I was delighted to hear from Y/n when she told me that you weren’t giving up racing entirely.” 

You shot Arthur a knowing grin as to say “see, you still have a spot in this world with me.” 

Arthur spoke up, “Ah, yes sir. I was a bit discouraged. But she somehow convinced me to not give up.” 

Sebastian clapped his hands. “Well I do have an offer for you. However, it wouldn’t be for this year and maybe not the next. There will be a lot of preparation but I know you could handle it.” 

Arthur shot him a shy smile. “I’m down for anything at this point.” 

“Well, I have been in the talks about endurance racing. And as you know, I am getting a bit older, but I still want to be involved. So I need to come up with a team. I would either be a driver or the team leader, I have yet to decide. But that means I need to start creating a team.” 

The young Monegasque took a moment to bring everything in. “So you’re asking me to be on your future team. Even after all the mistakes I made in Formula 2?” 

The German winced. “You are just like your brother. A bit too self-deprecating but we can work on that. Like I told Charles, don’t waste it. Don’t waste your talents away by not trying. We will have to do months and months of training as to get over making mistakes, but that’s also part of life. We just need to learn from them. So what do you say?” 

The rest of the facetime call was filled with tears, smiles, cheers, and talks of sending over contracts to go over. You and Arthur were over the moon. 

He might not be racing in 2024 or even 2025, but he’d be doing something. 

Now, the next two offers came during media day when you had testing. Nico Rosberg and Jensen Button had apparently been looking for the two of you the entire day. Thankfully, it was just media and Max was the one to drive the new livery around for everyone to see. You just got to sit back and relax, well, as much as you could when you weren’t discussing data. 

Nico and Jensen both cornered you when they had the chance. 

“Good to see you again Brittany.” You shot Nico a smirk when you exchanged greetings. Arthur, polite as ever, shook both men’s hands. 

You smiled at the two older men. “Now to what do we owe this pleasure of this fine Tuesday?”

The two former drivers looked at each other before they casted their gaze at Arthur. 

Jensen spoke first. “We just want to preface about how terrible we feel about you losing your Formula 2 seat. It was your rookie year and you had some pretty bad luck.” 

Your eyes rolled. “Way to rub salt in the wound Button.” 

He shot you a glare, but Nico spoke next. “However, we have a solution. Y/n here told us about your taken offer from Sebastian. And we know that there are going to be weekends that you won’t have anything to do. So to save you from quote on quote from Miss L/n here ‘separation anxiety from missing your best friend’ we are offering you a type of paid internship at Sky Sports.” 

Jensen cut in, “Obviously you would be helping either Nico or I depending on what weekend, but you’d be interviewing, commentating, or taking videos of drivers throughout the race time.” 

Arthur had sparkles in his eyes, but you knew they were probably tears. With this offer, he’d be closer to you and his brother. You knew he didn’t want to be alone somewhere while you two were living his old dream. Well, it could still be his dream, but he told you time and time again that it was easier to put the Formula 1 dream in the past so that he could move on. 

That day was also filled with smiles and contract talks. 

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were filled with you in the new RB20. If the fans thought last year was a rocket ship, this one had to be some type of vehicle from a Sci-Fi movie cause you think it was even faster. 

But, the Ferraris and McLarens were very close behind. The end of the weekend determined that Red Bull was still on top as you were able to take the fastest time out of the whole weekend, while you and Max did the most laps. 

You were practically vibrating in the debrief meeting from excitement. What this year would hold, you didn’t know. 

But you couldn’t wait to get started.   

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 it's go time

liked by arthur_leclerc, sebastialvettel, box_box_express, and 65,294 others

y/n.nation babygirl's new helmet - I'm in love!

sebastianvettel I see you're coming for my spot as Red Bull's golden child

maxverstappen1 sorry that was me, I have taken the seat y/n.89 sit down max, there's a new golden child

box_box_express middle picture is slaying

y/n-on-top I mean she did graduate from the university of servington with a degree in cuntology and slay sciences y/n.89 PERIOD

arthur_leclerc photo creds would be nice...

y/n.89 sorry ThurThur - EVERYONE ARTHUR TOOK THE MIDDLE PICTURE JUST LETTING YOU KNOW landonorris ok then.

redbullracing rookie of the year right there

y/n.89 I'm the only rookie? but thanks admin :D

iamred_iamyellow everyone was so close with only a few seconds separating the top three

ferrari'slastchamp this year is our year the-bulls sure - you all say that EVERY YEAR

f1 only six more days! see you drivers in the paddock

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[megu-meow]

cinnamon girl - sukuna

sukuna x fem. reader (reader is Nanami's sister)

Part 3 of my Hockey Player Sukuna Series - Part 1 - Part 2

Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list! :D

This road trip is Sukuna's worst nightmare. Firstly, they're playing his old team in Kyoto, the one he left in the middle of the season in questionable circumstances. His last month with the team was in no way pleasant, he was benched and constantly frowned upon by his teammates. The moment he heard about his trade offer to the Wizards he jumped on it and left without saying goodbye to anyone. He knew he's gonna get roughed up during the two back-to-back games ahead of him and that the tension would be high while in Kyoto. Secondly, Nanami was breathing down his neck constantly, keeping an eye on him 24/7. Sukuna cursed himself for not being more subtle about the way he approached you, he loathed the attention he was getting from your brother. He still wanted his approval, now more than anything, but he was not sure about the price he had to pay to get it. Sukuna was a loner. Despite having good relationships with his teammates and brothers, he preferred being alone. He found most people bothersome and downright annoying. So having Nanami around him every second of the day was a nuisance and that's putting it lightly.

"Is it really necessary that you follow me around all day?" he asked, irritation clear in his tone.

"You want my approval or not?" the blonde questions. It is not like he was pleased with the situation either, but he needed to be thorough with his background checks. Your heart was fragile and he was determined to protect it with all his might.

"I do, but is it really necessary for you to follow me around all day? What's next? Are you going to hold my dick while I piss too?"

Nanami frowns. He might have gone a teensy bit overboard, considering how tame Sukuna's days have been so far. He has a very strict and particular routine that he follows without fail. He wakes up at 6 and hits the gym for exactly an hour and forty-three minutes. After that, he takes a shower and eats breakfast, the same thing every time. Four eggs, four slices of bacon, and an obnoxiously large serving of salad. Then he calls his brothers. Yuji always answers, because they have the same schedule and this is his downtime as well. Choso, however, sometimes has clients, in those instances, his call goes to voicemail. He usually listens to Yuji's rambling for about half an hour, afterward, he hangs up, sometimes in the middle of the sentence, and starts getting ready for team practice. The length of that varies based on the coach's plans for the day, but the routine after is all the same. He goes to physical therapy, showers, puts on a sweatsuit, and returns to the hotel. He has lunch, again, the same thing every day, in different variations. He then takes a nap and wakes up two hours before the game. He doesn't even try to memorize his pre-game routine at the arena, because it's insane. From taping his hockey sticks to putting on his gear in a peculiar way, Nanami has seen everything. One thing that stands out during his daily routine is texting you because he does that constantly. Nanami knows it's you because when it's anyone else he's frowning, his expression depicts nothing but disgust. But when it's you he's smiling, he scoffs sometimes, probably because you said something unhinged. Most of the time, he is grinning like a man in love. Nanami considers entertaining the thought that he actually is in fact in love with you, but that would be crazy. Nonetheless, it is clear as a day and without a doubt that he is infatuated by you.

Sukuna's demeanor changes on the last day of the road trip, on the day of their last game in Kyoto. He is agitated, downright distressed. Nanami doesn't understand this sudden change, sure, these last couple of games have been rough on him, the unhinged comments thrown his way by his ex-teammates might have gotten to him, but they didn't seem to bother him up to this point. Something must have happened.

"Dude, stop bouncing your leg, the whole room is quaking!" Satoru whines during team dinner, imploring Sukuna.

"Shut your mouth, Gojo, unless you want to go home to your girlfriend without your dick attached." he bites back with a frightening aura.

"That's enough!" Nanami explodes, grabbing Sukuna by the collar of his dress shirt, and dragging him out. The pink-haired centerman does not fight back, despite the sheer size difference between the two of them. He could easily dominate Kento in this situation, but he refuses to.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the blonde questions "No bullshit, Sukuna, I can tell that you're on the edge."

His tatted face contorts - the last person he wants to mutter the following words to is standing in front of him. He never talks about his problems anyway, but this is utterly uncomfortable.

"She's ghosting me," he whispers, unable to hold eye contact with Nanami.

"What?"

"You heard me, Captain! Don't fucking try to convince me to repeat myself." he explodes, shaking the blonde's hands off his shoulders, trying to leave the room.

"Why? Did you do something?" Nanami's voice is nothing but emphatic. It makes Sukuna's shoulders deflate as he takes a deep breath.

"No." he says "I don't think so."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No! It's her decision, if she doesn't want to talk to me, I'm alright with that. It's just frustrating. I've been trying to act my best around you to get your blessing, but apparently, it was for nothing. What a pain."

Nanami sees right through his unbothered facade. He smiles, knowing that this idiot in front of him is down bad for his sister. That's why he calls you, to find out why you've been avoiding him.

"Why aren't you talking to Sukuna?" he asks after listening to your rambling about how fun of a day you had with Sophia and how Senna had chocolate milk coming out of her nose from one of Akane's jokes.

"Ugh, he told you about that too?" you sigh in frustration "You know, I really thought he was different, that he didn't talk shit about girls. He despises talking to the team about his conquests and relationships. I thought he would keep this on the down low, at least until our first date. And what does he do? He tells everyone in the locker room the first chance he gets."

"I was the one to question him about it," Nanami explains and your eyes widen "He doesn't talk shit. He only told me, so that I would give him my approval. He didn't want to go behind my back, he basically told me his intentions."

The way Sophia phrased it to you it sounded like Sukuna disgustingly blabbed to the entire team. The information your brother presented to you changes everything, your irritation with Sukuna disappears in an instant, but it's quickly replaced with guilt.

"Is he mad?" you ask timidly.

"Totally livid, downright lunatic." he says, his tone light, which makes you giggle. "Do you like him, Bambi?"

You think about it for a second. For the last couple of days, Sukuna has been nothing but a gentleman. He still annoyed you to no end, but he also sent you good morning and good night text every day. He texted you at every chance he got, telling you about his day, making you laugh at his stories about Satoru and how he loathes him. He listened to you complain about your unfair boss and your new annoying co-worker, about the shenanigans of your cat. He also sent a bouquet of sunflowers to your office, claiming that he finds any other type of flower stupid. "They're useless. At least with these ones, you can pull out the seeds, roast them, and use them for salads." he explains. Even thinking about him makes you smile.

"Yeah, I do like him." you say confidently and Nanami sighs. He cannot argue with that.

"Just text him back, Bambi."

"I will. Is that you giving your blessing, big bro?" you tease, making Nanami hang up the phone without saying goodbye. You laugh and you switch to the Messages app on your phone straight away.

However, Sukuna never takes his phone to the arena, because it's a distraction from his routine. So he doesn't see your message, making him go on a full rampage during the game. He's thrown to the sin bin at least six times for checking his opponents too hard, and he's constantly spewing insults at his ex-teammates, some of them personal, some of them just usual guy stuff.

"Hey Nanami-san! How is that sexy little fox of a sister of yours? I would really like to take her on a ride on my Zamboni if you know what I'm getting at." Mahito, the other team's first-line defenceman chirps the captain, and before Kento can react, he sees Sukuna fly by, with his gloves off, landing a powerful punch to the guy's face. Geto swears that the punch flashes black, which is not surprising, considering he and Gojo have a flair for the dramatic. The pink-haired lunatic lands punch after punch with a ruthless expression. This goes on until Mahito falls to the ice and the referees separate the two. As he is escorted towards the penalty box, Sukuna turns back to the defenceman and deliriously spits at him:

"Know your place, fool!"

Sukuna is thrown out of the game after that. You watch him on television, as he leaves the ice with a smile on his face, seemingly proud of himself for beating a living shit out of someone. But the fight gets the boys going, closing this road trip with a 7-1 win against the Kyoto team.

"Oh, Bambi..." you hear Senna's voice from beside you, a cheeky grin on her face. Sometimes you wonder how Satoru found a girl so similar to him. They are basically the same person, just different gender.

"What?"

"You sooooooo have the hots for Sukuna!" Akane teases.

"I do not!"

"Yeah, you do! But no worries, girl, we've been there. Guys are so hot when they fight." Senna explains.

"Sophia! Please tell these two that they are delusional." you look at your sister-in-law, imploring her to get you out of the uncomfortable situation.

"You are soooooo delusional, Bambi!" you hear her say and Senna starts laughing like a hyena. You huff out in frustration as you grab your phone to check if Sukuna texted you back. As soon as you see the message notification on the screen, a deep blush forms on your face and you cannot help, but smile.

"I will be expecting a warm welcome after getting home, sweet girl. It's utterly disrespectful to ignore someone who's trying so hard to win you over, my fragile little heart needs pampering." his text says.

And warm welcome he gets. On Sunday, at brunch. As soon as you see him step into the cafe, you stand up from your seat, going up to him, embracing his giant figure in a tight hug, whispering how sorry you are for ignoring him. At first, he is stiff, but after a couple of seconds, he relaxes, putting his bulky arms around your shoulders, inhaling your scent.

Nanami watches the whole scenario from his seat, content with the picture in front of him. The two of you arrived earlier, Sukuna insisted that the two of you have the time to catch up as siblings, another reason why Kento is pleased momentarily with his decision. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Sukuna after the game the night before.

"Thank you, for standing up for my sister, but you shouldn't have fought. That was stupid, we need you on the ice, Sukuna!" he scolds the pink-haired centerman.

"That bastard deserved what he got. And you guys did well without me anyway."

"I don't care, don't fight, you moron."

"I cannot make such promises." he grins.

"Can you promise not to hurt my sister?"

Sukuna's jaw drops at the blunt question, but he smiles nonetheless.

"Yeah, I can promise that, Captain!"

"Alright. One bad word from her, one teardrop, one disrespectful comment from you and you're done for, you understand?"

"Yes." Sukuna nods "Thank you, Kento."

However, Nanami regrets his decision during brunch. Because neither you nor Sukuna can keep your eyes off each other, the two of you share the stories of what you've been up to while you were apart, despite talking about them through messages. Nanami never felt so useless as he felt in that moment - third wheeling is truly a chore. But now he understands why you banned Sophia from Sibling Brunch because you felt the same way every time she joined. He feels terrible for only realizing this now, but the damage has been done, and he swears he's not going to push her presence at these events anymore. Nonetheless, Kento is glad to observe the dynamic between the two of you, the banter, the laughs, and the scoffs. It seems so fluid and easygoing as if the two of you knew each other through your whole lives. Sukuna seems so much softer, his rough and downright mean aura is replaced by a smile that reaches his ears, so genuine it's nearly frightening.

"Hey, Ken?" you ask, looking at him with sparkly eyes. "Sukuna and I are going on a walk, is that alright?"

"Sure. Take care!" he says and he embraces you, then shakes hands with his teammate. They have one of those silent conversations that boys have, but Kento leaves without saying anything else, but he makes sure to smile at you, as a sign that he is okay with this.

As you and Sukuna walk down the street to the park, you cannot help but ask him:

"Soooo... Is this our first date?" He looks at you in disbelief, he seems offended even.

"Do you really think that I am sloppy enough to take you here for our first date? I am a gentleman, y/n, this is what 15-year-old boys would consider a date, not me."

"Is that so? Then, when are you gonna take me on a real date?" you tease, but you're nervous that he might have changed his mind since he asked you out. You try not to show that, but Sukuna is perceptive. He knows, but he chooses not to comment on it.

"Really soon, sweetheart. Really soon."

🩵 Tag list: @ichorstainedskin @ureuphoriasworld @new-weather47 @deepchromatose @cvr2mya 🩵

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Night

SUMMARY: Things between Jisung and Hyunjin are heating up, and leading towards their group trip to Jeju, Jisung needs to clear a few things up with Chan; about you and him and the current secret bet in place that he unintentionally started.

TAGS: smut, handjobs, orgasms, kissing, making out, hickies, soft/fluff/slice of life moments, swearing, slight confrontation (nothing toxic), use of alcohol (Hyunjin is slightly drunk but what takes place after is consensual), some Harry Potter spoilers/references (sorry if you haven't watched HP)?

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @princejisung @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @dawn-iscozy @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @1dk-anym0r3 @wealwayskeepfighting @flowersun @huening-kawaii @newhope8 @leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri 🩷

“Oh, now this - what about this one?” 

Hyunjin hears Jisung’s voice from the aisle beside him where all the cold drinks are located. He himself had been scanning vigorously among the shelves for his favourite brand of ramen, only to come up short. They had been to four convenience stores prior and not one had what he was looking for. It landed them a trip further away than they had expected, but neither of them complained about wandering around far from where they were supposed to be.

After he straightens up and peeks his head over the snacks to see what Jisung was talking about, he shakes his head solemnly. 

“No. No, that one's grape flavoured and it tastes like children’s medicine,” he says to him. 

Jisung looks down at the purple can in his possession, “that’s oddly specific - oh, then what about orange-“

“Same thing.”

Jisung huffs and gives up, placing the can back where he found it in a disgruntled fashion, “you’re an easy man to please you know, but the minute it comes to food you’re so picky.” 

Hyunjin strolls around to meet Jisung on the other side after filling his basket with snacks that had caught his eye and wanted to eat during their movie night, “drinks aren’t food.” 

“Then what’s soup? A drink or a food?” He fires back.

“Not this again,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and closes the fridge for Jisung who follows behind closely. 

They’ve been debating about this for a while now which started off as a very contentious pillow talk topic that now crops up frequently. Of course, they wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t have opposing opinions. Jisung, who thinks that soup is absolutely a drink, has been pushing that agenda ever since the night he tried to cook French onion soup to impress Hyunjin.

Only, it wasn’t that impressive, and was rather just a slurry of tasteless onion water and zero seasoning. In order to not upset his friend for trying his hardest, Hyunjin did his best to stomach the interesting creation and honestly hoped that he never tried again.

“It’s an important question!” Jisung begins to protest, ready with an army of rebuttals and arguments. 

“Soup is a liquid food. That doesn’t mean to say it’s a drink, because you can eat soup. Plus, some soups have chunks of food in it too.” 

“That’s just vegetable water or meat water.”

“Meat water,” Hyunjin repeats in a disgusted tone. “So you’re also saying that plain water is soup too?”

“Well, if you heat it up-“

“Okay,” Hyunjin interrupts as he dumps all their items onto the counter and takes out his wallet to pay. “Stop talking.”

“Make me,” he mouths and teases quietly so that the cashier couldn’t hear him. “If you stuff my mouth with something big then it might get me to stop talking.” 

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, again. 

Nearly every waking moment that he’s around Jisung, there’s always a guarantee that he’ll make Hyunjin’s eyes roll; whether it’s because of some weird shit that comes out of his mouth, or whether it’s giving him an orgasm. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin pretends to ignore him as he collects his goods, then heads out with his best friend at his side. 

The entire commute back to his apartment, Jisung kept talking. On and on, and on about an assortment of subjects that Hyunjin had no interest in. At least not now. Not when all he wanted to do was go home, not speak, and just laze around with Jisung like he has been for the past few weeks. That thought seems to trigger a very sobering realisation that dawns on him as they ride the train back to his place.

As Hyunjin looks at the side of Jisung’s face who’s been rambling on about his opinion on the best types of pasta, he realises that they’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks. They kiss, make out, do other things, but not once have they had sex. Yet. They haven’t even talked about it, and yet, a part of Hyunjin had to wonder; was there any point in even talking let alone thinking about it if whatever is going on between them, isn’t going to last? 

His eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t want to think about that. Hyunjin doesn’t know whatever feelings Jisung has right now, but the one thing he knows is that he likes the sense of comfort that hanging around him brings. What if he asks and disrupts what they have? What if he asks and ruins Jisung’s thoughts on him?

As those questions infiltrate his psyche, his head lowers and comes to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, eyelids closing softly, “wake me up when we get to our stop please.” 

Jisung’s big brown eyes turn into the size of plates, a little bit taken aback that Hyunjin, a person who isn’t that huge on public displays of affection, is resting on him right now. Not to mention the privileged feeling that inflates Jisung whenever a person rests their head on his shoulder, which is very rare. It’s like some physical way of saying that Hyunjin trusts him, or feels comfortable around him at the very least. 

He scans up and down the cart where no members of the public come into his view. Grateful for their absence, Jisung feels safe by reciprocating the same affections. So he places his hand on Hyunjin’s upper thigh, and he too rests his head against his friends’.

For the next five minutes, Jisung and Hyunjin would ride the train back to his place in peace. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached their stop. The pair of them hop up, Hyunjin stands and stretches his long limbs as he and his friend head inside the apartment complex. 

Once they return to his place, Hyunjin prepares all the snacks for them on his coffee table, while Jisung gets the movie ready that they - he - wanted to watch.

“Harry Potter? Again?” Hyunjin groans, taking the plastic wrap off of the kimbap to share and setting it down on the surface once they’ve both sunken down onto the couch. 

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Jisung shoots him a dirty look. He’s always been pretty serious about his Harry Potter, having watched the movies over a thousand times and read the books back to back. “This is the next part of the series, thank you.” 

Hyunjin sighs and makes himself comfortable. He then heads to his fridge to grab a couple of bottles of soju and some shot glasses. Back at the convenience store, he meant to buy something non alcoholic, had he not been so picky about the flavours Jisung presented to him he wouldn’t be deciding on whether he should have alcohol or not. In saying that, it was nice to have a drink.

He strolls back to the coffee table with their final items and places them all down.

"Oh, yum," Jisung gasps and reaches for the bottle, unscrews the cap and starts pouring the clear liquid into both shot glasses already.

Hyunjin stares at him as he downs the alcohol in one smooth go, "alright then..."

Jisung holds up the other shot glass for Hyunjin, "your turn."

He takes it in hand, careful not to spill it on the rug beneath him - then again, it's seen a lot more messier liquids on it than alcohol.

"Yuck," Hyunjin retches after swallowing half of the contents in the glass.

"Come on, you know you like it," Jisung nudges him. "You know the saying; if you can handle cum, you can handle alcohol."

Hyunjin nearly sprays out the rest of the alcohol from his mouth as a muddle of amusement, concern, and curiosity wakes him up more than the semi-burn of the drink does, "and who said that exactly?"

"Me," he answers. "Hence why I can take both so well."

Like some of the time, Jisung wasn't wrong and summed it up with another shot before he picked up the remote to play the movie. He settles back comfortably while Hyunjin takes another shot of the soju.

He makes it through the first twenty minutes of the film, then reaches the part where Harry Potter suddenly gets selected for the Triwizard Tournament. By that point, Hyunjin was sure the alcohol had fully trickled into his bloodstream when he wasn't able to tell the difference between Mad Eye Moody and Hagrid.

Frames started to blend together and yet, he thought it was still a good idea to continue drinking to see if that would help. However, most good idea turn to bad ones. The alcohol began to play absolutely no part in trying to help him make sense of the plot and made him focus on other things rather than the movie.

It was safe to say that he grew steadily bored when it came to watching it. At the same time, he didn't have the heart in him to express his opinion to the person beside him who was so wrapped up in the universe on screen. Jisung's eyes were completely glued to the digital motions before him whereas Hyunjin's eyes were glued to him.

Boredom strikes him bad when he feels the need to lean over and make his long body comfortable on Jisung. Hyunjin's upper torso stretches over his friend's lap who doesn't pay too much mind to it. Jisung even hangs his arms over Hyunjin's abdomen while he watches the film contently.

It's not the type of physical contact he wants right now.

"Jisungie," he mutters into the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Can we do something else?" Hyunjin pleads rather than asks.

He never gets a response. The lounge continues to be filled with dialogue - something along the lines of Ron Weasly now having a go at Harry for being inducted into the tournament and not telling him. Hyunjin's had enough of it and for whatever reason he feels like, he slides off of Jisung's lap. Half of his body slumps onto the ground while the other half remains somewhat on the couch.

"What are you doing?" he snorts, grabbing onto Hyunjin's hands and trying to hoist him back up.

He awkwardly anchors his legs around Jisung's body in an effort to help pull himself up as well but ends up knocking his head on the edge of the coffee table. With a delayed reaction, Hyunjin winces and then laughs as he tries to rub his own head even while Jisung is still trying to save him from falling off completely.

"Here just - just stop moving so I can help," he leans back and uses all his arm strength to move what is practically dead weight to him.

Hyunjin puts in zero effort to help and instead becomes a giggling mess the second he's actually able to get back into Jisung's lap. When he does, his long limp limbs wrap themselves around the man beneath him. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, the sudden whiff of Jisung's skin almost makes him dizzy, making his mood do a complete one eighty degree turn.

It creates immense difficulty in trying to swallow the urge to plant a kiss over the soft area, earning a very quiet yet distinct hum from Jisung. Hyunjin repeats the same action, longer this time and in different spots that his tongue can swipe over. The grip Hyunjin barely knew was there on his hips, twitched in place. As if Jisung's nails are trying to dig into Hyunjin's flesh had he not worn clothes.

"Hey," Jisung alerts him. “Can’t watch the movie if all you’re trying to do is get on my dick- ah…”

Hyunjin’s mouth shuts his right up from one sharp suck into his skin. His tongue flattens over the fresh red plum mark. The sight of it alone makes Hyunjin want to decorate them over every inch of Jisung’s body, similar to the style of how he would paint a canvas - which he does. Over as much skin as Jisung lets him when he moves his head to allow Hyunjin to cover more skin.

“Y-You’ll…you’ll get me hard,” he warns, now unable to concentrate on the film.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck, giving him a rest from the myriad of hickies he’ll have to worry about later, and looks him down in the eye, “that’s sort of the point.”

Their mouths draw together like magnets, like they’ve been doing for weeks. Every day they find their lips on the others or some body party of theirs. Jisung gets to relish and dawn in the softness of Hyunjin’s lips, letting him slip past further to explore his mouth. His needs not only start to show through in his pants, but in his breathing and frantic pace of trying to feel Jisung that he almost can’t keep up with him.

So he decides that he needs to contain him a bit, bring him down a few notches to reminds him that he’s not in charge - at least for now.

With that, Jisung wraps his hand right around Hyunjin’s waist and manoeuvres him onto his back. The abrupt shift in control makes him act up almost instantly. Hyunjin is grabbing at Jisung’s shirt trying pull his body back down to his, but his muscles are weak and tired from drinking that it makes it too easy for Jisung to straddle his hips and pin his hands to the side of his head.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he tells Hyunjin right in his ear while he rolls his ass down over the dick that's hardening underneath him. "Gonna be fucking begging when I'm through with you."

At that point, the pair had gone beyond the fact of not completing a full movie night. With the way that Jisung continues to pin Hyunjin back and exchange the manifold of hickies across the planes of his throat and neck. If anyone walked into the apartment, they would’ve thought vampires truly existed with the way Jisung’s mouth was latched onto his best friend’s skin.

“T-The movie,” Hyunjin stammers hopelessly with his words. “Jisung…the movie…”

Jisung lets out a sinister chuckle as he pushes himself back up to take off his shirt and tosses it somewhere around the lounge, "fuck the movie. You started this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To rile me up and now you've gone all shy on me."

Hyunjin doesn't listen. His first instinct is to reach out and grab Jisung’s waist, to caress his hand freely for a few moments before gliding down and grasping the flesh over his hips. The slight sting in it makes him buck his hips forward and over Hyunjin’s clothed cock, making him groan lowly. He could cum easily like this - so easily and has done.

Every position they get into to practically dry hump each other, he always imagines that this is what it would be like if Jisung was riding his throbbing cock. To cum inside him and watch his face contorts the way that it does whenever Hyunjin makes him orgasm.

That thought sparks a wire in his brain, causing him to suddenly jerk his hips up and into Jisung. He smirks down at him, soaking up the state of the man beneath him. The hickies, red and wet kissable lips, dozy eyes that slowly blink up at him…

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters in exasperation like he's never seen Hyunjin's body before. “Just wanna f-”

Blaring on the coffee table next to all of the opened snacks was Jisung’s phone, he quickly bends over to the side to reach for it in urgency while still trying to straddle. Hyunjin twists his body carefully with Jisung still on top, picking the remote off the floor that had fallen after being pinned back. He pauses the movie for a moment to let Jisung answer his call. 

A small weight sinks in his stomach as he speaks in shock, “it’s Chan."

"M-Maybe you should answer it," Hyunjin tries his best to talk over the exponential rate of how much he is turned on right now.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jisung! Do you not answer your texts? I sent about six just before!”

He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his notifications. His friend was right, Jisung had in fact missed his messages. But not on purpose of course. If he hadn't been so busy provoking Hyunjin whose hands started sliding up Jisung’s thighs, dangerously close to his tented crotch, he would've seen the texts.

Hyunjin's fingertips delicately trace over where Jisung's cock begins to harden. His eyebrows furrow immediately as Chan continues speaking on the other end of the line about how he’s still surprised that Jisung didn’t answer him right away. 

“You’re always on your phone, I thought you might’ve been quick to respond,” says Chan.

“Oh, yeah not this time,” he responds truthfully, to some degree. “I’ve been watching Harry Potter all evening and-“

The words ready to leave Jisung's mouth die before they make it out as Hyunjin mischievously, and very clearly, starts to palm Jisung’s hard length over his pants. It didn’t take him that long to start leaking from his tip, creating a very visible dark patch over his shorts.

“…and-“

Hyunjin then reaches into the slot of the material, past his boxers and frees his cock. For a few moments, he takes away his hand just to admire how Jisung looks right now. The fact that he tried to finish what Hyunjin started, only to have the tables turned on him again. He flushes with embarrassment at the fact that without Hyunjin’s grasp around his length, his dick was able to stand tall on its own; so needy and desperate for touch. 

“And what?” Chan’s voice suddenly startles him out of his situation.

“And I just lost track of time, that’s all,” Jisung continues as calmly as he can.

“No worries. I haven’t watched Harry Potter in years. I think the last might’ve been Prisoner of Azkaban? No, Goblet of Fire? It was the one where…”

Chan’s voice drifts out of Jisung’s mind despite the fact that he’s right in his ear on the other line. His face contorts at the sudden pleasure he receives as Hyunjin takes hold of his neglected cock once more. His eyes dart sharply down to his own length and the large hand which begins to slowly tug. 

“…he gets chosen for the tournament when he really didn’t put his name into the cup…”

Jisung brings a shaky hand to his mouth, covering it immediately so as to mask and muffle something that could end up as a future regret. Hyunjin knows all too well what sort of sounds can come out of that mouth of his too, for it has reverberated around the walls of his apartment, stifled into his pillows, caught in the back of his throat which usually serves as a path for Hyunjin’s cum these days.

He’s heard it all before. 

For Jisung to keep a lid on all of those possibilities is a smart move, especially if they want to uphold the secrecy of their situation.  

“…and I’m pretty sure it’s the one where Cedric dies.” 

“Y-Yeah,” he responds shakily. “That’s the one we - I’m watching at the moment.”

“Maybe I should rewatch the first two,” Chan suggests to himself. “It’s the only series I can actually watch and understand without it being too complicated. I tried watching Lord of the Rings before but it’s too…”

Once more, Chan’s voice becomes a distant sound as Jisung tries to stop himself from bucking his hips into Hyunjin’s hand. But it’s not possible. He can’t just ignore the fact that he’s been horny since Hyunjin made him all hot and bothered, and now he’s built up to maximum capacity where his body craves release.  

“So what time suits you?” Chan asks randomly.

“Time for what?” Jisung responds back in confusion, his mind blending together like mush when Hyunjin has gotten into a steady pace.” 

“To hang out tomorrow!” 

“Oh, right! Ah - um, lunchtime? Twelve…” He suggests, his hips still rutting.

“Alright sounds good. I’ll see you there okay?” Chan asks.

“I’m cumming - I mean, I-I’ll come! I’ll be coming - going there,” Jisung stammers terribly with his words. “F-Fuck sorry, just…I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Chan laughs on the other end of the line, “see you then.” 

Jisung has never hung up faster, the phone toppling out of his possession as he rocks his hips into Hyunjin’s grasp. It also gave him the ability to rut his ass against Hyunjin’s hard length below him. Then within a split second, the lid that Jisung was trying so hard to contain over what his body needed to do, came off.

“Fuck, gonna cum, m’cumming!” He cries out. 

Hyunjin grins, and does not dare let up on his hand twisting and gliding on the length currently in his power, “I heard you the first time. How humiliating would that have been for you if Chan realised you were getting a handjob. Too bad he can't hear you whining so pathetically-“

Air hitches in Jisung’s throat, and for a few seconds too long Hyunjin looks into his eyes and sees tears welling up. A terrible, cold sinking feeling expands in his stomach, making him realise that he just said something awful to Jisung. 

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-

It was too late. Loud moans rupture violently through Jisung’s chest - ones that Hyunjin knows his neighbours are familiar with by now because by no means is Han Jisung quiet. He will let Hyunjin know how he’s making his body feel now explodes from immense pressure. 

His rutting against Hyunjin’s cock becomes staggered as a result of trying to chase his orgasm. Jisung clutches onto Hyunjin’s shirt, the fabric balling up tightly along with his fist. He can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop, until eventually that buildup releases erratically in flows of white that spill over his tip and dribble down Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung had never cum that hard from a handjob before. 

He finishes gasping for air when he starts coming down, slowly rocking his ass over Hyunjin’s crotch to ease himself off the euphoria. Beneath him is a different story. 

Hyunjin was mortified for making him cry, so shocked that he was frozen and couldn’t take his hand off of Jisung’s dick. But that didn’t matter. Jisung had the intention of finishing what he started, to feel so good that all his problems melted away. 

Hyunjin sits up immediately, so close to Jisung’s face as he needs to check in with his friend, “are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I don’t even know why I said that. It just...it just came out of my mouth.” 

He wipes his eyes after a couple of tears fell down his face in the process of dry riding Hyunjin. Part of what just happened makes him laugh breathily and nods, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Jisung, I’m really, really sorry,” he quickly says and means it, trying to look him in the eye.

“No, oh my god don’t be sorry,” he assures him. “I’m fine, seriously.”   

“Then…then why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks the million dollar question, still acting out of horror. 

He gives a lazy shrug, “I dunno how to explain it properly, but I like that kind of talk. It just…yeah. I’m not too sure. I suppose I teared up because I haven't actually cum that hard before.” 

“I…didn’t know you were into…that,” Hyunjin doesn’t know how to reply to that type of statement, now that he just found out his friend likes being humiliated. Out of all things Jisung would be into, it had to be that.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he replies, leaning over to the coffee table just a bit to pick up the box of tissues to clean Hyunjin’s hand. 

“W-What did Chan want?” He asks even though he doesn't want to stray away from the topic to make sure his friend is still okay.

Jisung slides off of his body and in between his legs rather awkwardly. From this stance, it’s easy to see the large tent in Hyunjin’s pants that he was grinding on as he made himself comfortable. He smooths the palm of his hand over Hyunjin's hard length and slowly back down. In doing so forces a couple of strained sighs out of his mouth. 

“Wants to hang out tomorrow,” he answers, reaching into Hyunjin’s shorts to feel his hard cock. The same cock that keeps him coming back, that makes him feel heated and irrational. 

In Jisung’s opinion, anyone would be lucky to have someone like his friend in front of him. Even though they haven’t had sex, he knows how Hyunjin fucks, having seen the way he made you cum weeks ago - it only makes Jisung wonder what it would be like to actually cum around Hyunjin’s cock. 

It’s what he wants, needs in fact whenever they’re together.

Hyunjin bites his lip and throws his head down onto the couch, “y-you going to?” 

“Course I am,” Jisung replies, thumbing over the dark pink tip that leaks clear glossy precum. “Need to ask him about Y/N and what the situation is there.” 

A dreadful ball of weight pummels Hyunjin from behind when he hears your name in the same sentence as ‘Chan’. Not to mention, as Jisung said, your ‘situation’ with him currently which Hyunjin doesn’t want to process. He likes being oblivious to the fact that Chan is sleeping with you. That he gets to fill you up, that he just gets to see you. Whether Jisung was telling the truth or not about you and him sleeping together, he acts as if you’re not to save himself from the reality of it. 

“D-Do you really need to?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, fumbling terribly with his words as Jisung lowers his head down and licks one long stripe from the base of Hyunjin’s cock, right to his dark pink tip.

“Yes,” he confirms, but doesn’t truly tell him why for reasons far too similar to his friend here. 

After giving his answer, Jisung sinks his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock, just half of it to tease him. Bobbing his head a couple of times causes Hyunjin’s to grab the side of the couch while the other flies to land on top of Jisung’s head. 

“What if…if he doesn’t say anything?” He questions breathlessly. 

Jisung pops back up, and leans over Hyunjin’s abdomen to ask him in his face, his question bears some perspective to the situation, “do you want me to blow you, or not?”

Hyunjin uses the hand that’s not ready to brace his body by the side of the couch and tucks a long lock of Jisung’s dark brown hair behind his ear, “yes.”  

“Then please shut your mouth and let me,” he demands. 

It wasn’t hard for Hyunjin’s eyelids to shut and squeeze together. Receiving a blowjob from Jisung always feels like he’s had his soul sucked out of him; he doesn’t know where he learned it, but isn’t complaining either because it put Hyunjin to sleep ten minutes after they cleaned themselves up. By the time he and Jisung crawled into bed together, he had forgotten having the conversation with Jisung about you and Chan. Yet, only to be reminded of it the following day when Jisung woke up at half past eleven in the morning. 

He was scheduled to meet Chan at one of his favourite lunch spots nearby and was in no mood to meet him. Being the morning person he is not, Jisung found himself struggling immensely to get out of bed and Hyunjin’s long arms that were encasing him. 

Although he didn’t feel like leaving, he thought it would be best to just go as it had been a while since he saw Chan last. More importantly, he needed to confront him about what’s going on. Mainly for his own piece of mind.

He remembers something in his stomach sinking when he read that text on your phone. Despite the intense shock he felt when he discovered that you and Chan were hooking up, he wasn’t able to diverge from his own feelings. Something which he struggles to get across and might depending on the outcome of the lunch with one of the people in question. 

Jisung steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist as he goes to sit on the end of the bed to open some of the drawers to his dresser. He pulls out a cream coloured jersey, some underwear, and a pair of sweatpants.

The fact that he needs to borrow so many articles of clothing is just another potent reminder that he should be packing and taking an overnight bag whenever he goes to hang out with Hyunjin. Nine times out of ten, Jisung will always say he’s only coming over for the afternoon then ends up staying for more than one day at a time.   

The sheets ruffle beneath Hyunjin’s body as he stirs himself awake. He sits up, bed head on full view and eyes barely open, “what are you doing?” 

“Borrowing some clothes,” Jisung answers trying to ignore how hot his morning voice sounds. “I’ll bring you back some food to compensate.” 

“You said that last time,” he grumbles sleepily. “I’m also down four of my favourite jerseys because of you.”

Jisung throws on the material over his top half before crawling his way on the mattress to Hyunjin. He kisses him unexpectedly yet expectedly on the lips.

“Just go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you after.”

With his confirmation, Hyunjin’s top half flops back against the mattress before Jisung pulls the white duvet back over his body, tucking him in. He had no trouble falling back asleep when Jisung lightly brushes some strands of his hair out of his face. However, without the distraction of him touching Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t help but feel nervous.

He already knew that you and Chan were sleeping together. That text long affirmed that. Yet for how long and what for remained to be a sickening twist of fearful questions lugging Jisung’s stomach down. He didn’t really want to hear the answers from Chan if he can even stomach that conversation. He didn’t want to hear ‘yes we’ve been fucking’ or the ‘yeah, it’s true’ answers. 

In saying that, Jisung has a trait of bottomless curiosity. That itch to find out for his own personal gain was going to make or break him. At that, he dons on the matching coloured sweats, grabs his phone and wallet, and then heads out of Hyunjin’s apartment. 

After a train ride away, it doesn’t take long for Jisung to arrive, and apparently not for Chan either, who was already seated, waiting for his friend. An assortment of dishes had already been brought to the table, making Jisung realise how hungry he was since breakfast was no longer. 

“How the fuck did you get here so fast, you live on the other side of the city,” Jisung exclaims to him from behind as he approaches.

“Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer because I was hungry,” Chan complains in a whiny tone. “Came here earlier to order, so I couldn’t wait.”

“Good, that makes things easier because I didn’t know what I was going to get anyway,” he replies and sits down in the booth opposite Chan. He hasn't changed much. Then again, it hasn't been too long since he's seen him last. “Been busy?”

He shakes his head, “you have no idea.” 

“Thought you might’ve been,” Jisung responds, eyeing him intently to see if he gives off even the subtlest signs of a lie. “Haven’t seen you in almost a month, what’ve you been up to?” 

Chan shrugs, “work and tutoring some of these students at the University.” 

Jisung gives a firm nod, believing him and understanding how tiresome that must be to help teach students. It’s not until he pauses and realises that Uni semesters haven’t started yet. Even summer semester students are on break. He could’ve called him out on his bullshit now to see what answers he would get, but for the sake of wanting to find out other information, he keeps that to himself. 

“Shit, sounds tough,” Jisung sympathises with him, or at least tries to if he was lying.

“How ‘bout you?” 

“Same old. Working - you’re still coming to Jeju right?” He asks on a different subject.

“Yeah, of course. I took leave for it,” Chan answers as a puzzled look then befalls on his face. For a moment, his eyes narrow at Jisung, or rather his chest, trying to decipher what’s wrong with the picture he’s currently seeing. 

“What?” He asks, trying to follow his gaze.  

“You and Hyunjin have the same jersey,” Chan points out, realising what the flaw was. 

“Oh, I know, that loser keeps copying everything I wear,” Jisung quickly plays it cool because unbeknownst to Chan, it is in fact Hyunjin’s jersey. 

“Why are you wearing a scarf by the way?” Jisung tries to direct the attention away from himself

He hadn’t noticed the black item wrapped warmly around Chan’s neck until he began to panic whilst digging up something else to switch topics. The heat Jisung feels like he’s already being dragged under was starting to make him feel uneasy.

“The same reason you’re wearing a jersey on a thirty degree day,” Chan fires back just as fast but more nonchalantly to just about make Jisung sweat. 

It forces him to wonder what on earth this reason is that his friend is talking about, and why he’s being so cryptic. 

His face twists into confusion, mildly surprised when he realises Chan is trying to clock him for something that he doesn’t even know about or what for. Then again, it’s Chan. When is he not this observant? 

“And what reason is that?” He responds with an accusatory tone. 

Chan doesn’t answer, not directly. He only lifts his chin up slightly and points to his own throat, confusing the hell out of Jisung as to what he means. When it’s clear that the message can’t cross his mind, Chan rolls his eyes, and reaches into his pockets to take out his phone. He pulls up the selfie camera mode and hands it to Jisung to look at. 

Apart from seeing his own reflection, he can see something else; a few splotches of dark, reddish marks littered all over his throat. At first he thought he had a rash, but wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. However, upon closer inspection, he moves the camera a bit closer to his throat and takes a photo on Chan’s phone to see it better. 

After his quick analysis, Jisung knew instantly what they were. More importantly, who it came from. Hickies, and from none other than the only person he’s been messing around with, Hyunjin. Jisung didn’t even bother covering them up.

He hastily hands Chan’s phone back after deleting the photo, “so what?”

“Suppose you forgot you had them, judging by your reaction,” Chan guessed correctly, completely stumping Jisung who’s nearly lifting his own body off his seat as he tries to come up with an argument. 

“Well…I suppose you didn’t know that I know you and Y/N are fucking which explains the scarf too but here we are!” He blurts out before he even has time to think about stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

Chan’s hand stalls over the pot of stew while Jisung’s lips are pursed together. All the colour in his face has drained, almost making him feel lightheaded that he just said that out loud. In saying that, this is exactly the topic he wanted to discuss - you and Chan. He just wasn’t expecting the conversation to meander in such a way that nearly exposes himself and threw him way off the track of ever raising the subject. 

“And what makes you think that?” Chan resumes ladling some of the hot stew into his bowl of rice. 

Jisung knows that you can’t unring a bell so makes the split decision and decides to come clean, “I was using Y/N’s phone for something, and that’s where I saw a text message from you, hinting that you guys were sleeping together.”

“Ah,” Chan recalls immediately at the sudden confession. “From that little truth or dare game you, her and Hyunjin played?” 

Jisung’s jaw unhinges, staring across the table towards his friend who seems to be a search engine for the topic of ‘everything Jisung has done lately.’ Nearly every minute that passes, Chan slaps him with a new fact that his friend wasn’t expecting him to know. 

“You - but, how did- did Hyunjin-“

Chan’s already shaking his head before Jisung can muster a proper sentence, “Hyunjin never said a word. In fact he hasn’t been replying to my texts so I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then…then Y/N?” 

“Well it couldn’t have been you or anyone else that was there.” 

Jisung isn’t angry. He’s just shocked that he keeps getting one upped. Chan finding out that Jisung had a threesome with two of his best friends - one of them who he’s been fucking for some time now too - was far more of a juicy topic than just you and Chan seeing each other casually, which Jisung still doesn’t know the full details of. 

“Said she had never cum like that in her entire life,” Chan adds, burying Jisung another meter or so deeper into this hole of new scandalous information. 

His body freezes over. Suddenly, it’s not thirty degrees and everything feels cold. Jisung doesn’t ever really hear Chan talk about his sex life. Even when he was in a relationship with his ex, each of his friends tried to dissect as many details about it as they could. But they were never successful. That was a result of keeping things as private and low key as possible. 

Nevertheless, Chan’s crude and very straightforward words had knocked Jisung right off his feet. The fact that you had told him what must’ve been very clear details of that night at Hyunjin’s was a sign that it still lingered on your brain. Part of his ego secretly swells with joy because of it.

“Then I felt like I needed to outdo you guys after that,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” Jisung questions with a tone of an impending doom that looms over him. 

Chan smiles sweetly, memories stirring of that night in particular he had with you. It had to be one of the best times by far to him, “you know what I mean.”

Jisung’s skin stings with scorching hot jealousy; he knows exactly what Chan means. The fact of the matter is that he can’t believe he’s saying these types of things to him. Then again, there’s only one reason why Jisung would be so affected by it and he didn’t want to display that in front of Chan without figuring out what it means. But whatever it is that’s tugging at the organ beating hard and fast in his chest, makes him furious. 

“Alright then,” he replies unfazed as he possibly could, swallowing the tough pill before realising there was one other thing he wanted to mention. “Suppose you guys are still seeing each other.”

Chan looks Jisung right in his eyes as he slowly retracts the spoon out of his mouth, “maybe.” 

“So yes then.”

“What does it mean to you?” He tests him, almost sadistically.

“It means nothing to me,” Jisung answers rather bitterly and nastily, his entire aura switching up before he finds a new tether to lure the spotlight away from himself. “Just the fact that I told the others about you two, and they made a bet.”

Chan looks up, “a bet?”

“None of them believed me, so they made a bet to see whether you guys were or not even though I said so.” 

If he didn’t have food in his mouth, Chan would’ve laughed, instead a disgruntled chuckle came out along with a couple of specs of his rice, “course they wouldn’t! Why would they believe that the two polar opposite people would be screwing behind everyone’s back?”

“You're not mad?” Jisung checks to be sure.

He shakes his head, “course not, dunno if Y/N won’t be though. She said she likes keeping things pretty private-“

“Clearly not if she told you she had a threesome,” Jisung cuts him off at that point. 

“Well, there’s some exceptions to that,” Chan shrugs, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I don’t know if this means anything to you but, she wouldn’t shut up about sleeping with you and Hyunjin. She told me every single detail like for instance, when you and Hyunjin made out-“

The tongs fall out of Jisung’s tight grip and clatter onto the table. He brings his hands up to his eyes, covering his entire face to hide whatever embarrassing feelings that start to simmer on the surface. However, Chan didn’t seem to care and continued on with his points to prove. 

“-how she liked it when you went down on her, how you watched Hyunjin fuck her - I told you what I meant about the details, right? Anyway,” he says. “She was raving about it. And yet, when she and I started seeing each other casually, she said that she didn’t want me to tell anyone else. That I needed to take what we have to the grave.”

Jisung removes his hands away from his face and looks down at his own food, unsure if he can stomach any more of it with the way the conversation has been handled. The more he talks and thinks about you, the more he feels like he’s being filled up with this bad gloomy feeling. He has to wonder if Chan is just being plain cruel to him by dumping all of his thoughts and information onto him.

He has to wonder, would it have been better to stay oblivious rather than being teased with snippets of what you’ve been saying to Chan these past few weeks. Hearing about how much you enjoyed yourself with him and Hyunjin yet haven’t directly spoken to them since that night. 

“What are you saying?” Jisung questions, tired with the bullshit that’s starting to spike in their discussion. 

“The fact that she wants to keep our…activities a secret from people and rather them not find out about us, yet is the first to speak highly of what you, her and Hyunjin did, means something more than you think.” 

More than he thinks? Jisung can’t understand what that could’ve possibly meant. He sits there, bewildered and stumped. Unsure of what else to say.

“Right,” he responds. 

Chan watches him warily, trying to gauge his behaviour as he decides to change the topic, “so, what’s on the table for this bet?” 

Jisung quickly pries himself away from his messy mind and answers, “losers have to buy a days’ worth of food when we go to Jeju.”

Chan nods, impressed as he reaches for more meat on the grill and loads it into his bowl, “even less of a reason to be mad. Looks like I’ll be eating for free either way.” 

"Yeah, looks like it."

The span of Jisung's vocabulary seemed to fail him. That and the fact that he didn't really want to talk anymore. Yes, it was good to see one of his best friends, but the circumstances that developed throughout their lengthy conversation made him wish he stayed in bed with Hyunjin just the extra bit longer so he would have to cancel lunch.

He managed to finish off small bowls of food to not make himself appear out of character. One whiff of anything remotely aberrant on Jisung's behalf, and Chan would hold him hostage in the restaurant until he tells him what's wrong. Despite that, Chan noticed something off anyway.

He saw the way Jisung's face fell when he confirmed that he was sleeping with you. He saw how his shoulders drooped and then picked up when he mentioned that you told him about the night at Hyunjin's. He saw how defensive and sceptical Jisung became whenever he would just simply mention you.

He saw that Jisung was hiding something.

When both friends had finished enjoying their meals, they were greeted with a downpour of rain that would have them seeking refuge under the veranda of the restaurant once they were outside. Just before they bid farewell to each other, Chan quickly turns to Jisung and calls out.

“It’s okay if you like her,” he says out of nowhere. “Y/N and I are not what you might think we are and we made it clear to each other that we never will be. There’s nothing between her and I, just so you know.”

Jisung stares at him, not showing any emotions on his face even though deep down, his brain and insides are whirring with emotions he can't even fathom, “I don’t like her like that.” 

Chan laughs at him, unfazed with the sudden tension that seems to be slicing through them, “keep telling yourself that. See you next week.” 

Through the deluge of rain and shadows from the dark, dense clouds above, Chan runs off in the opposite direction to where he needs to head home. Jisung stands there defeated and shocked that Chan is onto his tail that he likes you. He knew that heading into meeting up with him meant that the truth was going to come out one way or the other. Suppose it was just not on his terms.

It stirs many thoughts as he throws his hood up and ducks out into the rain to head to the train station and back to the safety of Hyunjin.

When he returns, Jisung keys in the passcode to unlock the door to the apartment, and is smothered with a waft of a sweet decadent scent. Standing in the kitchen, Hyunjin was at the stove flipping over what looked to be pancakes which suddenly reminded Jisung-

“Fuck, oh my god. The food, I forgot to even order it,” Jisung groans when he closes the door behind him.

Hyunjin turns the element dial on low and spins around to lean on the counter, away from the stove tops, "it's okay. I felt like something sweet anyway."

Jisung sighs. It felt right to be back with Hyunjin once more even though he had only been out for a couple of hours. In saying that, his conversation with Chan was good but draining. It’s not that he doesn’t like him for telling him the truth, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Chan is and will always be his friend.

There is no emotional connection between you and him and that’s all that matters to Jisung. However, it’s just the truth in itself that he has an issue with - you hooking up with Chan every now and then that is. It makes him feel uneasy and almost makes him feel like he’s doing something immoral by just sitting back and watching it happen.

The reality stings where he doesn’t like it so pushes himself from the edge of the bench and walks into Hyunjin’s body to retreat from his thoughts. Slightly taken aback but not oblivious to the strange display of emotions Jisung is presenting, Hyunjin sets the spatula down beside him and hugs his friend back. 

“You okay?” He questions, concern dripping all over his face.

Jisung nods his head on his chest, “yeah. Just socialising, now I’m tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either. Regardless, Hyunjin takes his word for it without thinking twice about it. He had completely forgotten why Jisung had gone to see Chan for in the first place.

“Wanna nap together?” 

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Jisung pulls one arm away from Hyunjin’s body while the other still rests there so that he can rub his eyes. 

"Well," Hyunjin looks away from him. "That's beside the point. Just...missed you is all too.”

"Cute," he grumbles, ignoring what the weight of those words truly means. "I should pack for next week though because knowing me, I'll leave everything until the last minute."

Hyunjin lets out a long sigh. He hasn't even thought about putting a suitcase together yet either, "true. I should probably start packing as well."

"Okay then let’s both get ready," Jisung looks up at him before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Hyunjin's lips, slowly pulling away and says quietly; "see you in Jeju."

Hyunjin responds, look at him, “see you in Jeju.”

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[lunarobyn22]

Here's the fic for those of you who want to read it on Tumblr instead of AO3! (I'm tired so this is my peace offering in place of today's Faebruary post 🙃) Check out @cloudninetonine 's "A Player's Aid" au, it'll give context for this!

Legend Gets What (He Thought) He Wanted

tags/warnings:

Threats of Violence, no y/n, Reader-Insert, Mention of making murder look like suicide, no one actually wants to die so don't worry, The others are there briefly, reader gender not specified, Kinda death threats but not exactly, Legend Needs a Hug, Reader Also Needs a Hug, They both get one tho don't worry, Resolved ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Legend is convinced that modern!reader is a traitor and a danger to the chain. He wants to get rid of the threat...Reader just really wanted to use the bathroom, but they somehow end up at sword point.

You all sat by the campfire after yet another long day of long walks punctuated by not long breaks and long fights. You were exhausted, from both the physical toll taken by the day as well as from dealing with Legend’s near constant attempts to make everyone hate you. Heck, you were almost starting to hate yourself because of him. You had to forcibly remind yourself that he’s likely only lashing out because your knowledge of everyone’s adventures probably made him feel vulnerable. You yawned and turned your focus to other things.

Your mind relaxed as you looked around. Your head was leaned to the right on Wild’s shoulder, and Hyrule sat curled up in front of you with his head in your lap. Wind had finally tired of regaling the chain with yet another tall tale, and thus had retired to intently watching Sky as he worked on a new carving. Twilight, Time, and Warriors were conversing in a relaxed manner, laughing at stories of Time’s shenanigans in the War of Eras as “Mask.” They told some embarrassing stories, and Time held a near perpetual blush in his ears and a fake annoyed expression thinly veiling his amusement. Four was quietly polishing his various weapons, making sure they were well-maintained for any future skirmishes. And finally, there was the chain’s resident salt shaker, the Veteran. Legend sat a few feet to your left, not-so-subtly eyeing you with jealousy and what you might label “loathing,” probably because Hyrule had chosen you as his pillow instead of his predecessor. He pretended to sort through his myriad of magical jewelry, but you knew better. You also knew better than to call him out at the moment.

Everyone (mostly) was at peace, full from a good supper provided by Wild, happy from the stories Wind had told, and now content to do as they pleased until it was time for the first watch to start. By your guess, each of the three watches lasted three hours, 9 PM - 12 AM, 12 AM - 3 AM, and 3AM - 6 AM, or just after sunrise, depending on the season. It was about 8:30, and your eyes had been drooping for an hour already. You let your mind wander as you stared into the fire, pondering where the tips of the flames disappeared to as they peaked and vanished, dipping back to the firewood just to jump up once more a second later.

All too soon Wild was nudging you and Rulie back to your own bedrolls as Sky set up for his watch period. You hazily recalled meaning to clean the mud and blood off your shoes as you took them off, but decided to just do it in the morning before you all set off again. It’s not like the stains were going anywhere while you slept. You were out almost as soon as you pulled up your blanket to your chin. You didn’t even hear Wild’s small chuckle as he tucked you in before he walked away to his own sleeping spot.

Your faint dreams of red eyes haunting the dark corners of endless mazes were interrupted by a twig snapping by your face. You inhaled sharply as your eyes flew open to assess the situation, but relaxed once you saw that it was just Sky going to wake Legend up for his shift on watch. He glanced down to you and offered a sleepy smile of apology, which you returned in kind, before nuzzling deeper into your pillow (which was unfortunately rather thin and small, but you figured that even if you had brought a full-size memory foam pillow from home, it wouldn’t stand a chance of fitting into your bag, no matter how enhanced it might be).

You faintly heard the Vet bemoan his fate as second watchman before his blanket rustled and he walked to the fire. You’re pretty sure he intentionally stepped on the same twig as Sky had when he passed by you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch. Through half-lidded eyes you could vaguely see the grouch circle the camp before sitting on a log before the fire and facing the woods that surrounded your camp. He was even more grumpy tonight, because not only was he designated for the worst shift ever, but he didn’t even have a choice as Time forced it upon him due to a particularly scathing remark he’d made towards you earlier in the day.

You tried not to focus on his insults and apparent hatred, you really did, but recently it was getting harder to ignore. His questioning of Hyrule’s sudden loyalty to you turned to questioning everyone’s desire to not kick you out or abandon you to the next monster camp they found. He seemed convinced you were either an evil witch who forced Hyrule and Wild to love you, a monster disguised to destroy them, or even a direct agent of Dark Link (who you’d not-so-affectionately dubbed “Dink”) and planned to betray them all any day now. You, in turn, had stopped vehemently insisting you were harmless, and eventually resigned yourself to simply not rise to the bait of his stinging statements of distrust. You knew he’d been through a lot of pain and loss through his many journeys, but that didn’t excuse his treatment of you. Only your mother’s advice kept you somewhat sane — “bullies only prosper when you give them a reaction. If you don’t react, they have less reason to target you.” And yet, Legend’s berating only continued.

You silently huffed a sigh and turned around to lay on your other side, facing away from the fire. You didn’t really love the idea of turning your back to the one person who very clearly wanted you to cease existing, but you knew he had enough sense not to literally stab you in the back when you were both surrounded by witnesses who would decidedly not appreciate such a thing. Plus, the fire was too bright for your sleepy eyes anyway. You started a breathing exercise, prayed you’d assumed correctly about not getting murdered by your upset comrade tonight, and closed your eyes again.

——

An hour or so later you quietly groaned and sat up. Not only could you not fall asleep, but your bladder was beginning to rebel against the idea of waiting until morning to relieve yourself. The chain had made camp just a ways off from a wide yet shallow creek, and you decided that since you were already awake, you might as well go ahead and rinse your shoes off, too. That way they’d be dry in the morning and you wouldn’t have to worry about walking around in shoes that made your socks cold and wet. You shuddered at the thought and slowly stood, stretching your arms above your head and popping your back, then bending down to pick up your shoes and a bar of soap you’d bought in the town you all just passed through.

Legend spared you a calculating glance from his seat, saying nothing. You simply waved with your free hand and then signed “toilet” before walking away to take care of business. You didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he was staring holes into the back of your head; you could practically feel him doing so anyway. You sighed, choosing to instead focus on the foliage you passed on your walk, faintly illuminated by the fire back at camp and the dim glow from a bracelet Wild had given you. He said he’d used a brightbloom seed to make it, and you had been sure to express your gratitude. It was much easier than having to carry a torch, which was not only difficult if your hands were full, but was also very bright to your still-asleep eyes. That, and you’d almost started a forest fire last time you’d been entrusted to carry a torch when you weren’t yet fully awake (once the crisis had been averted, Legend of course claimed that you had done it on purpose, but you were so tired that you just gave him a deadpan stare with a raised eyebrow and plopped back onto your bedroll to resume sleeping).

After answering nature’s call and washing your hands, you sat criss-cross by the creek, took off your dirtied shoes, and started splashing them in the frigid water. It was colder than you’d expected, but everything barring your hands was still warm enough, and it helped shock you to be more awake and aware. You used some more of your soap to aid your struggle against the grossness crusted onto your shoes, thankful that they were made from something like leather, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to clean once you actually got started. As you washed, you listened to the sounds of the world around you, now returned since you were no longer disrupting their peace.

A sound like cricket chirps mixed with owl coos set the backdrop for the soundscape, while the occasional breeze played with leaves and stuck them in your hair. If you listened closely enough and stopped your washing, you swore you could almost hear the life within the flowers and greenery by your feet, the very soul of the land of Hyrule, its perseverance, growth, progress and patience, all poured with a parent’s care into each and every living thing it supported, down to the smallest weed by the creek bed where you sat.

The water before you seemed to whisper, not in the way the Sheikah technology would, but more like it was a living feeling, as if it wanted to impart to you the knowledge it had picked up on its journey to this place. You had heard a story, once, that water could hold memories; that every molecule of water in the world has existed since creation, for it cannot be created or destroyed by those who need it to survive. Every single drop had a story to tell, an event it had witnessed, a place it had once called home. Perhaps some of the water burbling and giggling before you was the same way — some of it might have seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations, the existence of every single hero, princess, and villain up to that very moment — and it would continue to amass these secrets, both big and small, every detail it would pass by, and no one would ever fully decipher its stories, its warnings, its wisdom and playfulness. And even so, it would continue to exist and endure, trickling on through the ages and epochs.

You were somewhat prone to these random philosophical trains of thought, and had thus been unknowingly sitting, unmoving, almost unblinking, in the same place for the past twenty minutes. If anyone were with you, they might have thought you to be having a memory episode akin to the ones Wild sometimes had. Indeed, you were so lost in the wanderings and ramblings of your own mind that you had no idea you were being watched. You had no clue until a sound was made that caused you to spring to your feet with a gasp and reach for the dagger you’d sheathed at your hip.

Legend stood at the tree line a few feet away, posture tense and, dare you say, predatory, unsettling stare boring into your own wide, surprised eyes. “What are you waiting for? Or should I say, who are you waiting for?” You blinked away the black spots at the edges of your vision from standing up too quickly, and relaxed the hand that held your knife as your brain worked to understand the situation.

“What?” you tried to be quiet, still recovering from being shaken out of your reverie. “Why would I be waiting for someone? They’re all asleep last I checked. Ooh shoot, did I wake someone up? I’m so sor-”

“Cut the crap, [Name],” he stood up even straighter, the line of his shoulders taught with anger. “I know you’re waiting for someone to give all your collected information to. Don’t pretend you’re all so goody-goody. I’ve seen the way you ask too many questions, always looking for more details to collect, more ways you can betray us, betray them. I knew you were a snitch, and I don’t know how you bewitched them all to trust you, but they’re all too blind to see it. But I’m not. I see right through you, I have from the start.”

He had stalked closer during his speech, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper you had only ever heard in movies. His approach had caused you to back up until your still bare feet felt the water’s lapping edge. You had dropped your boots, you weren’t exactly sure where, but that was only a vague thought in the very back of your mind. Your eyebrows scrunched together as your mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to come up with a good enough response. You weren’t spying, you were trying to find answers! You came from a completely different world, of course you had questions! He of all people should understand that, and yet he still accuses you? This finally snapped your patience, and you decided to just spell it out him:

“Look, I know you hate me, but this is too far, Legend. I am not some evil being to be defeated like in your adventures, I am not planning to cause trouble for you all, and I sure as anything would never betray you guys, especially not after the trust that has been extended to me by some of you. This group took me in, saved my life, helped me learn to defend myself, protected me time and time again, and I’ve only ever tried to help you, or at the very least not get in your way. I get that I’m not some ‘chosen hero’ with crazy butt-kicking skills, I know that I’m only okay-ish at fighting, not nearly as good as any of you, and I understand that my extensive knowledge of your adventures puts you on edge, but I swear on everything that I’m not a traitor, and the main thing that I just really don’t know is why you despise me when I’ve never even given you a single reason to do so!”

Your voice had steadily increased in volume, not quite to the point of shouting, but certainly not whispering any more. He seemed a bit surprised by your willingness to defend yourself, but he hid it quickly with a scowl and what sounded almost like a growl. You noticed dully that the forest had fallen tensely quiet.

“Oh drop the act, turncoat ,” he spat, “you have never been one of us, and the only reason I didn’t drop you off a bridge yet is because Hyrule would have my hide and Wild would poison my food. But don’t mistake my inaction for acceptance or ignorance. You’re no better than any of the enemies we fight on a daily basis. You’re actually worse, because you’ve wormed your way into my group, my allies, my brothers. You think you’re something special just because you got some of them to trust you?? You’re a parasite, a threat, and tonight is all the proof I need. I knew I should’ve spoken up more from the moment you oh-so-conveniently happened to stumble into our lives. You’re going to regret ever messing with us, and Dark Link will soon know without a doubt that he cannot ever send his agents into my family without dire consequences.”

His expression twisted to a hateful snarl, showing some of his teeth in an almost animalistic display of animosity. Your face, on the other hand, was flickering through countless expressions too quickly for even you to comprehend. You knew some of what you felt, pain, sadness, anger, guilt (even though you had no reason for that one), confusion, denial, and eventually a sort of raging, spiraling emptiness that screamed inside your chest. Your breathing quickened to an almost hyperventilating speed, and your eyes grew blurry with tears you’d been suppressing for weeks. Your hurt, misty eyes locked with a pair of violet, violent, volatile ones, and you realized that he was waiting for your response. His next actions could depend solely upon your response; your very life could depend upon whatever words next left your mouth.

You had tried so hard to be friendly to the group of Links, to not aggravate Legend too awful much. You had tried to help out wherever you could, to not be a burden, to not slow them down. You tried to let the pain of rejection roll off of you like water, to not let it get under your skin. You had tried so, so hard to be one of them; but you weren’t. It was at this point you realized what he’d said without actually saying it — he was afraid . Afraid of losing the only family he had left. He’d already lost his uncle, Marin, the whole island of Koholint, and almost all the people of his Hyrule viewed him with disdain at best and outright hatred at worst. He’d had to leave Ravio and Fable back in his Hyrule, and he never knew when (if) he’d ever see them again. You realized on an even deeper level the true message behind his words — ‘you are a threat to those I love. You are dangerous. You bring pain and that is all you’ll ever do. You are not worthy of any trust, comfort, protection, or love from anyone, least of all my brothers. You would be better off never having met us, having never existed.

You would be

better off

dead.’

You had tried so hard, and yet… You had never actually brought anything to the group but problems. You thought through your interactions with them all, but all you could see is the many ways you’d caused them worry, stress, or even anger. You were another mouth to feed, another bed to pay for at inns, another liability in fights, another person to slow down for as they walked. You were a burden. No, worse: you were a danger. What if they were so busy looking out for you that they didn’t see an enemy until too late? What if you slowed them down to the point where they couldn’t get where they were going in time? What if you drained their food or rupee supplies too fast? What if you got hurt again and caused stress and tension to rise, causing fights and even divisions to break out. You were a problem. Not a traitor, no, and not intentionally endangering, but they couldn’t afford to have you around any longer. And you couldn’t just leave, you’d die within a day if Dink didn’t find and torture you, but Legend wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for a fact that you were out of their way. Permanently. He didn’t just want you to disappear; he wanted you gone. And finally, with a sinking heart, you realized just how right he was.

 At this final revelation, a tear finally did slip past your lashes down to meet your quivering chin. You felt your thoughts scatter like startled deer, your heart thundering in its cage, pounding in your ears, scaring away the life in the forest around you. And you decided. You were a danger. You had no power here.

“I - I’m so sorry , I - I never meant to drive you apart, I -” you paused to hiccup and take a breath. You knew you were breaking, your composure deteriorating, but it was too late to stop. “Legen- Link. If you truly see me as a threat, if you truly believe that I will bring nothing but harm to you, to my-your friends, if…if you think that - that I should - I should never have met you, that I should never have…existed, I…I know I can’t force you to change what you so deeply believe, I -” You gasped a little shuddering inhale, and you made your final decision, the choice that you knew would be your last. You steeled yourself, and spoke. “If you honestly believe that you would all be better off - be safer - if I was gone, if you believe I’m a threat, that I would hurt you, that I - harbor ill intent, then…” you swallowed, still taking short, stuttering breaths. Then you turned around, held your hands palm-outward and arms open to the sides, and bowed your head; you left your entire back and neck, your spine, completely exposed to the man who wanted you dead. You leveled your voice, and accepted your fate. After all, he was an experienced hero, while you were just an inexperienced nobody. He would know what he’s talking about, what would be safest and best; you wouldn’t. He was not prone to emotional decisions; you were. If that was the case, then he was right. You were a threat to your friends.

“If you truly think that I should die for the good of the group, for their safety and happiness, then…then I… I trust you to do what’s right for your family. I would never willingly hurt any of them, I never wished any of you ill but…maybe I do just bring bad luck. Maybe I truly am a curse, a threat, a liability. If that’s the case, maybe - I know I can’t just leave, since Dink is after me and I know too much so - maybe I really am better off dead.”

There was a moment of silence, and then you heard him unsheathe his sword. The back of your neck prickled with danger, but you didn’t dare look over your shoulder. You counted the seconds as they passed, and you realized you had made it to thirty and nothing had happened yet. Why the hesitation? You assumed you’d be dying by now. Perhaps…perhaps Legend feared taking the blame for your death? Causing more division within the chain? Well, you shouldn’t let that stop him if your friends’ lives and safety were at stake. You would do anything to protect them, no matter what. Legend was right, and this had to happen. He had to do this. So why hadn’t he yet? You decided to offer some support, try to speed it along. You were never one for fearing the future but you really wanted this to be over, since you could feel the dread clawing up your throat, numbing your words and preventing any cohesive thought, forcing you to stand still and hear your blood thundering through your ears.

“You could, uh, you could make it look accidental, if you want?” You suggested. “Maybe - maybe I slipped, hit my head on a rock in the creek, maybe I drowned after I fainted or something, maybe I was playing with my knife and - and accidentally hit an artery.” At this point you started to hyperventilate again, desperate, but unsure as to why. “Maybe I was surprised by an enemy, a - a stalfos! - and I was too slow,” you continued, “or - or maybe I was kidnapped, maybe I was gutted by an enemy, maybe I - I just hit my head on something, maybe I had a - a - a hidden injury,” you were nearing hysterics now, “maybe, maybe I just — maybe I did it myself? Maybe I just couldn’t go on? Maybe, maybe I, I just - what if - I,” you lost your sense of words for a moment, “I can’t, I - what about if I just - just - You don’t have to take the blame, you know? You - you could cover it up! Maybe you just were doing your final rounds at the end of your watch and just found me - m-my body, maybe -”

“[Name] are you serious?” He cut through your rambling and you guessed he thought you sounded rather impertinent. You were trying to tell him how to do his job, and you’d kept on repeating what he likely had already worked through in his own mind.

Your mouth clicked closed so quickly your teeth almost clipped your tongue. Perhaps he wanted you to die quietly. You realize you were panicking and might’ve been too loud. Oh no, what if you woke someone up? Then Legend would get caught, and you would be the cause for even more trouble for everyone, and things would get even more tense, and if they were more distracted then they’d be in more danger, then…

…

…

…

You were still alive for some reason, although if you hadn’t been breathing so heavily you would have heard someone else’s suspiciously loud breathing behind you. As it was, you continued to hold still, arms sore from being held out, but you didn’t dare move. Even you knew better than to rob a predator of his prey, especially when he is so close to the killing blow. You were no fool, you knew he’d likely planned this for a while, and you knew better than to irritate him further. You just wanted to say one more thing, one final reassurance.

“I only want what’s best for them…best for you. I don’t hate you, contrary to what you probably think. I’m so sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, I truly am…I - I only ask that you make it quick, not for my sake, but if I was too loud a second ago and it woke anyone up and they found you kil-” your breath hitched, “killing me, it — it might make things worse for you all, and the last thing I wanna do is make things harder for all of you guys, I love you all and I—”

“Just SHUT UP!” Legend’s voice crashed through your pleading, and you stopped. And through the suddenly deafening silence, you realized something. Had his voice cracked? You listened more intently. He was breathing unevenly, almost gasping, almost…no, no your soon-to-be-killer couldn’t possibly…

He inhaled deeply and hoarsely whispered, “ Why? How, how could you just, just…” And in his struggle for words you heard something you would never have considered possible.

You had offered to die, just like he wanted, and

Legend —

Link —

was crying .

The man who wanted you dead, who planned to watch the light leave your eyes, was crying.

Perhaps he was just so happy you’d stopped resisting? Or perhaps he simply disliked the idea of causing someone pain? Yes, that was likely the reason; you were still a person, after all, and you knew that the Veteran, despite his callousness, did in fact have a heart (however guarded it might be).

“…It’s ok, Link,” you whispered reassuringly, “I’ll probably hardly even feel it, and if you’re right, and I’m sure you are, then…I deserve it anyway, and…I trust you to do what’s right, because…well, you’re a hero. You’re Link. I’m just… I’m nobody , nothing, so…It’s okay…” You stopped there, you knew he didn’t want you to talk, but darn it you always had a weak spot for people who cried, and you just had to try to reassure them, even if this particular person was planning to send you to meet your Maker a bit earlier than you’d thought you would.

But…there was still no sudden pain, no sword through your chest or severing your head, no sudden hit to the skull, nor were there hands forcing your face into the water until the bubbles stopped, nor any cutting, no slitting your throat, just…quiet sobbing?

Your mind froze for a second, and you held your breath to see whether the crying was actually from you. And it wasn’t. So, you waited. What else could make Legend wait? He was a hero, right? Maybe he just needed to psych himself up? It couldn’t be easy, you figured, literally stabbing someone in the back —

OH! Maybe that was actually the problem? Maybe he wanted to be at least a little more honorable and kill you face-to-face? After all, back-stabbing has a rather negative connotation attached to it. Facing forward and watching your killer do the job wasn’t really what you’d prefer, but it’s not like you had much choice in the matter. After all, he was the one with the sword.

In order to solve this newfound problem you slowly turned around and faced your whole body towards him, eyes closed, arms still out in a sign of surrender, tense muscles still ready for whatever method he would choose to end you. Maybe it would be kind? Likely not, seeing as you were a threat to his family. 

Tentatively you opened your mouth and quietly reassured him, “If you want to do it head-on and not with my back to you, that’s…cool too? I-”

“Oh goddesses,” he practically choked on the words, “you…you actually are serious…?” His voice was rough with…emotion? Confusion? But why? You were giving him what he wanted, right? You were keeping your frien- his family safe…right?

Right?

And then you cautiously cracked open your eyes a little bit, and then opened them all the way, and you lifted your gaze and actually looked at him, rather than just listening.

And you saw that he was an absolute wreck.

Rarely seen tears now freely flowed from his violet eyes, and he had to sniff to keep his nose from running too much. His chin quivered slightly and his adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to find words without openly sobbing. He dropped his sword as his posture went slack, a hand raising to cover his mouth, his watering eyes wide with disbelief and something remarkably akin to grief. Your confusion turned to concern for the man before you. Why was he crying? Was he hurt somewhere? Surely that was the case, for no one could change their mind as abruptly as he seemed to, right? 

He finally whispered hoarsely, “You…do you really…you’re actually willing to just…let me kill you?” He seemed shocked at your actions, but you didn’t know why. Unless…oh gosh, had you misread the situation?? You weren’t sure how you could have, but what if you did? What if you were the one to make him cry? How awful of a person could you be?

“I — I’m sorry, I — yeah, I meant it, really. I mean, I still do, but — I-I’m sorry if I misunderstood, I really am, I just wanted what was right, and I — I just figured you’d know better than me, that you’re right, but I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear, I’m sorry for making you cry, I never wanted that, I just wanted to keep them — keep you all — safe, but if I—”

“Just…stop… please .”

And you froze. Because Legend…he’d said please . He had never said please in the entire time you’d known him, and certainly not while addressing you of all people. So, you stopped. Your arms were in pain, however, and you risked slowly lowering them so they could lose their pins and needles. He didn’t react. He just brought his fist to his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears. He was no longer actively crying, so you counted that as a win. You continued to look at him, confused, but not trying to talk any more. You figured he would decide what to do in a minute. Maybe, you thought, he was crying with relief that he could finally stop fighting you.

And then he finally spoke again, in a very small, very subdued, almost unbelieving voice. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” He seemed to hardly believe it.

No, you denied the small spark of hope trying to take root in the void of your chest. There’s no way. It’s too late. He’s going to kill me. He can’t have been wrong. I’m supposed to die, right?

He raised his eyes to meet yours once more, and it was all you could do to nod in agreement. After all, you had never tried to deceive any of them. You’d only ever endeavored to tell the truth, and you weren’t going to stop now of all times.

“You’re not…a witch?” He seemed to almost be thinking aloud, not actually talking to you anymore, but you nodded along anyway, just in case. “You’re not actually a traitor, are you?” He murmured, “You’re…goddesses, you’re not even evil, are you? An enemy would never turn their back to me, Dark Link would never surrender, but…that means you…you’re just a person…just…” Then, in an even smaller voice and with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, “You’re…just you? Was I about to — to kill — an innocent?”

And at that moment you recognized his emotion: horror.

Link was mortified, absolutely horrified that he, a hero of courage, one of Hylia’s chosen, a bearer of the triforce, savior of realms and countries, Link, was about to kill you, a person who had never actually harmed him or his brothers, someone he’d been so set on not trusting that he’d tried to twist you into something that you’d never been. You had tried so hard to protect them where you could, to ease their burdens, to not cause problems, to bond with them, to ignore his acidic hatred, and you’d been through so much pain and loss, and been targeted by Dark himself, and he still had tried to make everyone reject you. You were traumatized, hunted, injured, afraid, and he still hadn’t held back. Your questions had never been any sort of interrogation, but simply confusion. The trust you gained from the others was simply friendship, not any sort of witchcraft or manipulation.

And, with mounting terror, he finally, deeply, truly realized that he had somehow even convinced you — sweet, innocent, confused, traumatized, eager-to-help, optimistic [Name] — that you actually were the problem, that you should — 

Oh goddesses, he’d convinced you that you were better off dead, that you should want to die — that you should just let him kill you. And for some heartbreaking reason, you had not only agreed, but then you’d exposed your most vulnerable points, without any sort of armor or protection, dropped your weapon, lowered your guard, closed your eyes, and told him to do what he believed was right…

You thought he was going to kill the person he should have been protecting this entire time. And you endorsed it only because of ignorant trust in someone who was supposed to be a hero.

And when he panicked, you’d tried to help him kill you .

He looked at you and saw your pain, your sadness, your survival, your resignation, your scars, your desperation to help others, he saw YOU, and not a trace of what he’d so firmly believed you to be. He was planning your death, and you’d tried to comfort him.

And Legend broke.

He did something neither of you expected; Legend, the one who had tried so hard to hate you, vaulted over the small distance between you, wrapped his arms around you, and held on so tightly he thought he might never let go. You had stiffened at first, halfway expecting a knife in your back, but when that didn’t happen you relaxed, almost dizzy with relief and swirling emotions, and you hugged him back just as fiercely. His face was on your shoulder, head bowed so that the fabric of your shirt muffled his increasingly panicked sobs and hiccups. And through those noises you could hear him apologizing relentlessly,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, goddesses I’m so sorry, [Name] I — I’m so — so sorry, I’m sorry, I was so blind , I’m sorry, I was wrong, I was so, so, so — wrong, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and so he continued.

You finally breathed for what felt like the first time since he’d snuck up behind you. Your heart was pounding and, now that you held Legend in your arms, you could feel his heart thundering just as quickly as your own. You gently lowered the two of you to the ground, trying to comfort him even as you worked through your own dissolving panic. You held him as if he were a child, gently rocking back and forth as you tried to imbue him with a sense of safe-secure-trust-okay.

“Shhh sh sh shh,” you whispered, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay, shh shh shhh, it’s okay, I…

I forgive you, Link.”

At this statement he began to sob even more heavily, and your own tears soaked his tunic as surely as his did your own.

“NO! No, you shouldn’t! You — you — I almost killed you!!” He pulled back and looked at you without letting go. “I would have killed you, [Name]! You — you can’t just forgive me! I — I’m so sorry, I can’t ever explain, I — I was so sure you weren’t trustworthy, I didn’t even give you a chance, I — gosh I basically just tried to freaking kill you, and you just…you can’t just — just —” he fell into hysteric hiccups once again, allowing you to interrupt.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you don’t decide what I can and can’t do, isn’t it?” You released your hug to hold his face in both hands, using a thumb to brush his tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll admit…I was, for a moment, scared, but,” you cut off his heartbroken and shattered gasp, “I get it. I don’t excuse what you’ve done, but I do somewhat understand and I forgive you, Legend. I choose to forgive you, Link.”

…

His world stopped in that moment. He stared into your eyes, so open, brimming with tears that he had caused. You shouldn’t forgive him. He was going to murder you, literally stab you in the back, in cold blood, right outside the safety of camp where his own brothers, who trusted both him and you, slept peacefully, placing full faith in him to keep the monsters at bay. And yet here he was, more of a monster than any of their Ganons or Ganondorfs could have ever hoped to be. He was despicable.

And then you even went so far as to offer him a watery smile that tugged gently on the Sheikah scars adorning your face, the scars of what you’d endured and survived. Oh goddesses, you were trying to comfort him — him — instead of yourself. You opened your arms and offered him another hug, and he was suddenly so thankful you were alive, that you were there with him, and that he hadn’t killed you. And he finally, fully, completely collapsed, releasing the pain he’d hidden away for so long from so much betrayal, distrust, and loss, burying his face into your shoulder once more. His stuttering breaths and hiccups prevented him from speaking, from begging you to hate him back, from telling you to strike him down then and there as surely as he planned to do to you, from screaming until his voice gave out simply because of his pure loathing toward himself, toward this monster he had let himself become.

You gently nudged him back toward camp, all the while holding him and tracing pointless patterns along his back, caressing his hair and whispering forgiveness in his ears. You fell asleep trying to keep watch for him by the fire, both of you tangled up in the other’s embrace, resting in the safety of someone you loved.

You both slept soundly and without nightmares for the first time in weeks.

….

And as the two of you sat there after crying your souls out to each other, having realized how much you actually cared for one another, the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back, joining with your sobs in a beautiful melody of mourning and life, shame and forgiveness. Your rivers of tears mingled together and joined the small creek, the whispers of your pain, relief, salvation, and reconciliation joining the water’s ever-increasing library of whispered memories and silent emotions. And it would never tell a soul, for no one could know what it knew; and you would never, ever know just how happy it was to gain your streams of tears and joy instead of the rivers of your life-blood. 

And if the third watchman woke to find the two most bitter of enemies curled up together asleep by the fire, tear tracks on their red-splotched faces, hair unkempt and, in your case, feet bare, and if he simply draped a blanket over you both and almost cried himself, well…who needs to know?

[snek-eyes]

Good Omens fic recs

Hello all! Wanted to share a few of my longtime faves. These are all pre-s2, might do another with my post-s2 recs? Narrowed it down to 10, since that's the max links tumbl lets you have in a post.

Any Way You Want It

Author: Justkeeptrekkin Words: 27,500 Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Mature Mood: Vacation, soft but introspective After finally getting heaven and hell off their backs (at a cost) Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday to a cottage in Scotland. Fluffy with fun snappy dialogue, the two really feel like best friends here! Aziraphale struggles with his tendency to go slower than even he wants.

Instructions Not Included

Author: Atalan Words: 68,000 Chapters: 13/13 Rating: Teen Mood: Detective / Gen (There are feelings but it earns that slowburn tag) My "if season 2 isn't good, this is my season 2" fic. Now, I liked season 2, but this is still SO good. After the notpocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley start a detective agency investigating supernatural happenings together. New characters include Raphael (who totally missed the apocalypse haha whoops), and a big spooky dog (whomst I adore). Note that while this fic stands just fine on its own, there is an unfinished sequel that imo doesn't leave off anywhere stressful.

When in Rome

Author: Kedreeva Words: 4,000 Rating: General Mood: The liminal space of nighttime conversations What happens after Aziraphale invites Crowley to oysters: Wings and reading. Tentative and innocent in those early days.

the deft, sweet gesture of your hand

Author: deadgreeks Words: 12,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Hurt/Comfort, introspection A few years after the failed apocalypse Crowley shows up badly injured at the bookshop. Aziraphale has to help heal Crowley and save them both, and still finds the time to knit his feelings.

Chemistry

Author: Twilightcitysky Words: 122,000 Chapters: 19/19 Rating: Explicit Mood: Y'ever want a side of learning something with your romcom? After realizing they might need their own corporations to heal themselves now that they're not working for heaven and hell, Aziraphale and Crowley turn on all their bodily functions. All of them. What could be a silly premise is played out very satisfyingly, the actual biology of hormones at play here is fascinating. (this is not really at all related but: has anyone else read Peeps by Scott Westerfeld? Because the format reminded me of this in that it did a similar thing of playing straight the concept of "what could cause vampires to be real" that drew on inspiration from real life parasites interspersed between the chapters. I dig it. Anyway!)

Reservations

Author: AnnetheCatDetective Words: 10,000 Chapters: 3/? (Technically unfinished, but leaves off in a satisfying spot) Rating: Not Rated Mood: Meta (Character study as story) “There's some competition for Aziraphale and Crowley's usual table at the Ritz…” A couple of miracles bend reality and, well… you ever been like, “The boys need therapy, but who could possibly give it to them?” I love crossovers where the TV boys meet other versions of themselves, this one is my favorite.

i can't say the words, so i wrote you into my verse

Author: mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday) Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Snapshots through history "Crowley has tattoos and every few centuries, Aziraphale discovers a new one." Simple and paints a lovely picture.

By Definition

Author: idiopathicsmile Words: 3,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Smutty but fond A night together after the Ritz fic where Aziraphale is asexual and Crowley isn’t and how that works for them. The dialogue here is positively delightful.

Bark Dust

Author: rfsmiley Words: 8,000 Rating: Mature (mostly for injuries) Mood: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Historical Crowley is very badly injured in a battle, and Aziraphale has to figure out how to save his life.

Tell Me A Story

Author: brilliant_or_insane Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Soft and warm Aziraphale likes telling stories and Crowley likes to listen. But when the demon is dissatisfied by sad endings and can't relate to the happy ones, Aziraphale decides to move them forward by telling a new story. (Of course, Crowley isn't entirely satisfied with the angel's perspective on that one either.)

[somehow-a-human]

The ineffables fell in love, and God & Satan decided to make a bet on true love.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Okay so, this is kind of a crack theory. But if this blog is for anything, it's for divulging my crack theories, and not feeling bad about it. My other blog is where I act like a properly sane person.

I have had a lot of nebulous thoughts that led to this theory but there was one bit of dialogue that tied it all together for me, that we will discuss at the very end. I'm going to start by laying out each of my *Clues* for you below, and we'll tie all my threads together by the end. Shall we begin?

Sanctuary Lights

Warlock, Adam, and most interestingly Maggie all have a single red light displayed on their right hand side of their "rooms". The symbolism of the right hand side implies the sacred, good, right, and stable. It's also where we find Aziraphale in reference to Crowley when they are balance and harmonious, Aziraphale is on Crowley's right.

A sanctuary light, is a light that shines before the altar of sanctuaries in many jewish and christian places of worship. A lit Sanctuary Lamp signifies the presence of God in the tabernacle that contains the Eucharist, and are traditionally red.

It's interesting that these three characters are linked via this specific visual. The assumed anti-christ, the actual anti-christ, and the local record shop owner? All of whom were somewhat under the watchful eyes of Crowley and Aziraphale at some point, but more-so Aziraphale. The right hand sidedness of the lights is initially confusing as you might expect Adam's to be on the left given he is the son of Satan, but we do know at the end of season one that he isn't good or bad, but rather, very human. What is this telling us about Maggie? I am a "Greasy Johnson is Jesus" truther but my mind wanted to go, "Oh maybe Maggie is Jesus!"

Aziraphale & Crowley's Angelic Playlist

Not Aziraphale and Crowley's Earthly Playlist, no no no, their Angelic Playlist.

These songs definitely tell a story. They are full of heartbreak, and longing, misunderstanding and disagreement, all while flowing with an undertow of deep love. And don't even get me started on The Book of Love. I have loved that song for so long and when I saw that was one of Neil's 3 picks for this playlist I did tear up a bit.

These songs no doubt illustrate the final 15 minutes. Aziraphale wants to leave, he needs to go to heaven to fix things, to protect humanity, and Crowley is hurt, he wants Aziraphale to run away with him. But, could they also mirror something else? Could they mirror Crowley and Aziraphale's disagreement before the Great War and the Fall? I mean it is their Angelic playlist afterall. It could have very easily been their any-other-adjective playlist.

In the Before the beginning scene we are shown, Angel!Crowley wants to stand up for the universe, and protect his creations, and Aziraphale wants to put his head down and hide. Angel!Crowley tried to do what he thought was right, and it resulted in a boiling pool of sulphur. He doesn't think Aziraphale can succeed at what he has already failed to do. This time, Aziraphale is the one who wants to stand up to Heaven and protect creation and humanity, and Crowley knows what that looks like, so he just wants to run and keep Aziraphale safe.

Maybe that's why the final fifteen hurts so much, even if they might not remember it well, because maybe they've been through this before, before the beginning.

Magic shop Ventriloquist Dummies

Do you see the resemblance here? I really wish we could read their name tags clearly, I feel like that would give us a ton of information, and with time, hopefully we'll get that opportunity. And we do have information that each doll is named and they apparently had enough information for each of them and their dress that it warranted a spreadsheet so it must've been detailed and important. You can read that in this tweet from Mickey Ralph's twitter:

From Mickey Ralph, Good Omens graphic designer's twitter: "I need a list of all the dummies and their names with as much information as possible for each of them. I think it would be best to have a photo of each of them and establish some kind of spreadsheet so that we can make sure the dressers put the right names on the right dummies"

It has been vaguely stated the likenesses of the dolls was not purposeful here:

But I'd like to posit a guess that maybe this answer just means they didn't create the dolls to look like A & C, but maybe found ones that looked like them.

Do the dolls mimic the hierarchy of God and heaven? Why are there two Crowley's? Why is Muriel so far up? Was she a high ranking angel before she was possibly demoted and became a 37th order scrivner?

@noneorother has a more in depth analysis of the puppets here, if you'd like to read their take.

"Enough to Make you Believe in True Love?"

This dialogue is what set off the chain reaction that led to my ultimately writing this post. Don't remember this quote? It's easy to miss and seemingly unimportant. Just after Gabriel recovers his memories and Shax accuses Beelzebub of being a traitor we get this:

Beelzebub: "I didn't collaborate with Heaven, anymore than Gabriel collaborated with Hell. I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides" Maggie: "That's really sweet" Nina: "Enough to make you believe in true love?"

Maggie and Nina who are still in the bookshop and watching these events unfold have been silent, but finally share these two lines. And I finally noticed, it's kind of a weird thing for Nina to say to Maggie, no? Why wouldn't Maggie believe in true love? Why does Nina think Maggie wouldn't believe in true love? We've seen Maggie pining over Nina and saying she's in love with her earlier in the season so why might a romantic who's never even talked to the woman she claims to be in love with not believe in true love, and why might her and Nina have discussed that before?

Is this little aside a conversation really being had by Nina and Maggie?

The Job Bet

That's why he's perfect for the bet! This is the final piece to my puzzle before I wrap up my ramblings and try to coherently tell you how they fit together. God and Satan make a bet, to see if Job is really truly righteous, and loves God, even if She takes away everything she's given him. They aren't above making bets about their creations, and taking everything away from them, testing them to destruction.

Conclusion

Let me weave you a web... The Starmaker, and Aziraphale meet in what we see is the first scene of season two. Maybe in the time before the fall they become close, and fall in love. Angels shouldn't have free will so that shouldn't be possible right? God and Lucifer!Satan? (maybe?) take notice and talk about it, maybe how they did with Job? Maybe they disagree about true love. Maybe God insists that in the ineffable plan, Crowley and Aziraphale will always end up together no matter what. Satan disagrees, they can be driven apart. They make a deal, a bet. The fall is inevitable, its ineffable, so they ensure Crowley and Aziraphale end up on either side of the factions, God lets Satan destroy everything they have, and then they'll see...

Fast forward to The Great War, the Starmaker doesn't really want to rebel like the other angels but gets swept up on their side of things, on the losing side, maybe with a bit of divine or demonic intervention. All he ever did was ask questions! He and Aziraphale are separated. Later, the Serpent of Eden slithers up next to the Angel of the Eastern Gate and strikes up a conversation. They don't remember each other, maybe a vague impression of familiarity, but the demon can't help but be drawn to the angel.

God and Satan we now know must chat about the goings on of Earth, making bets about Job and all that. That's at least my possible explanation for why Nina and Maggie have those weird lines during the Ineffable Bureaucracy reveal. Maybe God and Satan popped in to check on their bet and see what was happening with their stupid free wheeling creations?

Despite everything Aziraphale and Crowley are still together after all this time, and they do love each other. But they can always continue to be tested, even to destruction, or so they may believe.

Hey look, I'm not saying any of this is at all accurate but it was fun to come up with hehe.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Uncle Jesse x fem reader!!!

where one night he plays a gig at a bar with his band and during a few songs he sings, they lock eyes and he’s really interested in her, so during his break he goes and talks to her and they hit it off. She invites him back to her place and things get a little steamy until her shirt rides up a bit and he sees bruises on her torso. (Insert protective Jesse!!) (tw abuse.) maybe you could use the line “the last guy was a little rough.” But Jesse knows those aren’t those kinds of bruises and that someone later their hands on her

Season 3/4 era

Sounds Good To Me

Fandom: Full House

Pairing: Jesse Katsopolis x Female Reader 

Characters: Jesse Katsopolis, Female Reader

Word Count: 1363 // Rating: Mature

Summary: Reader and Jesse get off to a good start until her past makes an unpleasant appearance 

Tags/ Warnings: Kissing, Requested Fic, Request, One Night Stand, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Physical Injuries, Bruising, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Angst, Protective Jesse, Jesse and The Rippers, Uncle Jesse, Set around Season 3/4

Notes: Here ya go @americaarse Hope you like it.

Just a memo other requests might be slow as I'm busy next week and this weekend. I'm going to be doing EP fics for his birthday so I'll be ignoring my inbox till they're done lmao

‘We’ve been Jesse and the Rippers! Thanks for coming out,’ Jesse said as a wave of cheers and applause rippled around the club. He left the stage and headed to the small dressing room the venue owner provided for them. It had been a good show. The crowd liked their material and they’d even managed to sell a good deal of CDs. But that hadn’t been the highlight of his night. No, the highlight of Jesse’s night had been the cute girl who’d been watching him throughout. She didn’t seem to be a fan of theirs, but rather someone who had attended the club they just happened to be playing at, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. And Jesse loved that. As the band packed up their stuff he headed out into the bar to get himself a drink.

He was standing at the bar, waiting to be served, when he felt someone appear beside him and turned to find the girl from before. She glanced at him and smiled. 

‘Hey,’ Jesse said.

‘Hey,’ she said with a soft smile, ‘great set. You guys are really cool.

‘We like to think so,’ he chuckled. 

‘I mean it. I wasn’t even gonna come out tonight but I’m glad I did,’ she said. 

‘Well how about I make your night a little better,’ he said. 

‘Oh yeah?’ she smirked, ‘how are you gonna do that?’ 

‘Well I’ll start by buying you a drink,’ he said with a smirk.

‘Sounds good to me,’ she smiled.

The guys had decided not to stay after the gig but Jesse didn’t much care. He was having a good time without them. He and Y/N had spent hours tucked away in a booth at the back of the club. She was a nice girl. Sweet, funny and smokin’ hot, just Jesse’s type. As the night wore on and the drinks flowed he found himself losing the thread of the conversation as he started getting distracted by her. The way she moved her hair out of her eyes. The way she smiled when she told him something funny. The way her lips formed a perfect pout as if begging for him to kiss her. She was telling him a story, enraptured in the tale, but he had no clue what was going on. He wanted to kiss her. Badly. 

She seemed to catch him staring and blushed, ‘what?’ she asked after a moment. Jesse didn’t say anything, instead, he leaned in and placed his hand on her cheek before he kissed her tenderly. She tensed for a moment and then melted into it allowing him to continue. He pulled her to him and rolled his tongue against her lip as if asking her to go further. She responded and soon enough they were making out. When she finally pulled back Jesse watched her carefully. She was smiling, though a little shy, and said, ‘wanna take this back to my place?’ 

‘Absolutely,’ he said. 

They left pretty sharpish after that, taking a cab to her apartment. Jesse figured it would probably be better than taking her home and having to explain why kids' toys littered every room in his house. Or having to explain to Joey and Danny who she was and why she was there. They were barely out of the cab before they were back on one another kissing one another as if their life depended on it. She forced them to break away so they could walk up to her apartment, though Jesse couldn’t help but come up behind her as she unlocked her door, kissing down her neck as his hands caressed her sides. 

Once they were inside they were back together trying to make their way to the bedroom without breaking apart for too long. His lips were everywhere, nipping and sucking along her neck as he pushed her jacket off her shoulders. As they got into the bedroom Jesse pulled his shirt off, watching as she climbed onto the bed, lying down and watching him with an inviting smile. 

‘Come here,’ she said beckoning him to her. Jesse didn't have to be told twice. He was on her in a shot, hovering over her as their lips reconnected. He made his way down her neck, his fingers tracing along the hem of her shirt before he hiked it up. She moved up so she could pull it off but as she did he noticed something. 

Across her stomach were deep purple bruises, tinged with green around the edges where they’d started to heal. He stopped in his tracks and so did she, noticing him staring at her. She could see what he was seeing and nervously pulled her t-shirt down so they were no longer on show. 

‘It’s fine,’ she said.

‘Those bruises-’

‘Aren’t a big deal,’ she said going to kiss him again but he pulled back until he was sitting up on the bed. She moved to sit up properly.

‘How did you…’ he said, trailing off mid-sentence. He had his own ideas. None of them good. 

‘Let’s just say the last guy was a little rough,’ she said quietly. Jesse felt rage flow through him. He hated bullies. No matter the context. Those who used their fists to get their point across rather than their words. They made him sick. And he didn’t know how anyone could lay a finger on her. They’d only known each other mere hours but it was clear to him how special she was. 

‘It’s fine,’ she said placing a hand on his knee, ‘and it doesn't have to ruin anything between us. I mean if the bruises bother you I’ll keep my shirt on.’

‘Bother me?’ Jesse baulked loudly making her wince, ‘sorry. Honey, I’m not bothered by them. Well the look of them anyway. I’m bothered by the person who did this to you. They shouldn’t be able to get away with this.’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ she said self-consciously. 

‘Yes it is,’ he said as he placed his hand on her knee, ‘you’re a great girl. And whoever this guy is he didn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve any woman.’

‘I know that,’ she said quietly. Jesse could see something behind her expression as if she wanted to say something but she was holding herself back whether in fear of him judging her or admitting to whatever it was. 

‘But?’ he said gently. She looked up at him panic-stricken, ‘you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.’ 

‘No it's okay,’ she said, ‘it’s just…I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t let him in but he talks me around. Every time I tell him it’s done and every time he lures me back in until something like this happens. Then it’s like I see sense. You must think I’m really stupid.

‘I don't think you're stupid. Guys like that are just good at getting their way. They know all the cards to play to make you trust them again. It doesn't mean you're stupid for believing they might be a decent human for once,’ he said. Y/N nodded. 

They sat in silence for a moment and she looked up at him with a meek smile as she said, ‘I bet this wasn’t the night you were planning on huh?’

‘Eh,’ he shrugged, ‘I had a good gig, a few drinks and I got to hang out with a pretty girl. I can’t complain.’ 

‘Still a bit of a mood killer though,’ she said. 

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘but maybe it just gives us a chance to take another run at this whole first date thing.’

‘You wanna go on a date?’ she said.

‘Well, we did take this thing at a hundred miles an hour. Maybe we just need to slow down a little bit,’ he said with a smile. 

‘Sounds good to me,’ she replied.

‘Though,’ Jesse said, clearing his throat, ‘I’m still hoping for something.’

‘What’s that?’ she said in a whisper. 

‘That I can keep kissing you,’ he said, ‘just for a little while longer.’

‘Like I said. Sounds good to me,’ she replied.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [19]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 12,542

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, mention of abuse, mention of manipulation, mentions of death, mentions of canon characters deaths, mentions of drug use

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: We're almost done with season 3 and I am so excited!! You're all gonna hate me later lmao (again happy ending, promise) I have so many plans lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

You, Gar, and Rachel are sitting around the Lazurus Pit. Rachel has just finished giving Gar a pep talk about how she's able to do what she does out of love. Gar has been feeling a little bit like a letdown, unable to transform into different animals on command like he can as a tiger. The only times it's happened is when he's terrified, as if there's a block of fear in his head keeping him from transforming into anything else. You stay silent. You don't think Rachel is wrong. Gar could definitely change into other animals beyond being scared and maybe the answer is the love he has for all of the Titans and the love everyone has for him because everyone believes him. But, you're still stuck in your head wondering if that's always enough.

Right now, love doesn't seem like the thing that heals all wounds and makes everything better. It wasn't enough to keep Jason safe. It wasn't enough to keep him out of Crane's grasp. It wasn't enough to get Bruce to kill the Joker before he had his chance. It wasn't enough to bring Jason home. It wasn't enough for Rachel to bring Donna back. It wasn't enough for Sam to bring Jason back. It wasn't enough to keep the Titans at the tower. There have been so many things, especially lately, where it's just not been enough. Sometimes it's not enough so instead of being pessimistic about it, you stay quiet, looking at the pit and hoping it spits Dick out.

"You're quiet." Gar states, moving his attention to you.

"Oh, yeah." You shake your head, glancing back at him. "Just...waiting." You look back at Rachel. There's no guarantee this is going to work. You need another plan if it doesn't. You need another plan if it takes too long. "Do you think you could find the other Titans? Like...at some point tonight?"

"Yeah." Rachel nods her head. "I can feel their energy, too." Rachel's voice is soft.

"Well, that's good at least. Kory will know what to do." You let out a sigh, moving your stare back to the Pit.

"You don't think this is gonna work, do you?" Rachel asks.

"I don't know." You shrug. "I'm just trying to think ahead in case it doesn't or in case it takes a while. I mean, for all we know it takes a few days." You state just as the put starts bubbling. "Or...a few hours." You mutter as the three of you get to your feet, looking into the pit just as Dick's fist punches through the surface and he emerges from the thick and glowing liquid.

Dick starts to swim to the edge while you and Gar quickly meet him there to help pull him out. You both grab his arms, pulling at him until he's out of the pit and leaning back on his hands. He coughs up water just as Rachel kneels down beside him, you and Gar getting back to your feet. You and Gar exchange a look of disbelief as hope has the courage to start to fill your chests.

"Dick?" Rachel asks.

Dick manages to look at her, furrowing his brows in confusion before he falls back onto his back and passes out. Rachel looks back to Gar and you, as if one of you will know what just happened.

"What do we do?" Rachel asks.

"Is he breathing?" Gar asks with hesitance.

The three of you see Dick's chest rising and falling. This whole thing has been weird and it almost seemed like he drowned. Is there supposed to be more to do this? Or is he supposed to just...sleep off the effects and then he's just alive again? The three of you are completely confused by the entire situation.

"Yes." Rachel states.

"I guess we wait some more?" You question. "He's breathing so that's better than the alternative." You shrug your shoulders, wishing you would have pressed Jason to get some answers from Crane about him coming back.

But then Dick snaps back out of it, gasping himself awake as he shoots up. You and Gar both jump back slightly at the sudden movement and sound as if Dick is jumpscare in a bad horror movie.

"Rachel?" Dick gasps for breath, looking more confused than ever. "Gar?" Dick rushes, getting onto one knee. "Y/n?" Dick questions looking to you.

The last thing he remembers to be real is you and Jason kneeling above him, looking lost and panicked. Then there was everything in the pit which only leaves him with far more questions than answers, none of which he has time to get answers to right now. The Pit told him everything he needs to know to take down Crane. That's all that can matter right now if you're all going to save Gotham. He can deal with the rest later.

"It's okay now. You're safe." Rachel assures him. "Let us help you."

"Are you...alright?" Gar asks with worry.

"Yeah, dude. You like...died." You state with the scrunch of your nose, earning a light nudge from Gar.

"What...what happened down there?" Gar asks.

Dick breathes heavily, catching his breath and then completely avoids the question. "Crane can be stopped." Dick states, running a hand through his hair. "There's still time." Dick rushes, getting to his feet.

Dick starts to walk towards the exit as Rachel gets to her feet. He cannot possibly be serious. He just died and drowned and now he's just...going to stop Crane. Suddenly he has all the answers and he's going to go off on his own? He can barely even catch his breath.

"Wait. Dick, man, you need to rest." Gar rushes after him, the three of you right on Dick's heels.

Dick turns around, barely facing the three of them. "Anton and First Street. There's an abandoned control room. Find Conner. Make sure he's okay. Unite the Titans." Dick states in a hurry. "Y/n, with me, let's go." Dick rushes before he turns on his heels and starts darting down the hallway.

"Unite the Titans where?" Rachel calls after him.

"Take them to Donna." Dick states, not slowing down or stopping as he makes his way down the tunnel.

The three of you look between each other in confusion, trying to grasp any sort of explanation to no avail. Donna is supposed to be dead, according to Rachel. And he was in a Pit?

Dick calls your name from down the hall, his voice echoing over the bricks.

You shrug at the two of them. "Uh...alright. Good luck with that, I guess? I'll make sure he's not fucking insane." You state quickly, spinning on your heels before you jog down the hall to catch up to Dick.

You catch up to Dick who is walking a steady and quick pace, his head clearly thinking a hundred steps ahead. You eye him as you match his pace, walking right beside him. He just died? And then came back to life? There is no way in hell this man is just...fine with that. Of course, there are a lot of other things you all need to focus on, especially with him somehow knowing Crane can be stopped. There are more pressing matters than Dick's mental state at this exact point in time but that doesn't bring you any type of ease.

No one should die and then just be fine.

Jason sure as shit isn't. So, Dick can't be either.

Sam follows Dick out of the building, keeping up with him.

"We're going to meet Jason." Dick states flatly once the two of you exit the building.

"We're gonna what now?" You question, shaking your head. "And how do you expect we even find him?"

"He'll be here." Dick states, a confidence that should be reassuring consumes his voice.

How is he so sure about everything all of a sudden? The Lazarus Pit brings people back, and heals them, but...it can't possibly predict the future right? But, Dick also just said Donna is alive which means...if that's actually true the pit brings more than life back to someone. It brings some sort of clarity for things they otherwise shouldn't know. But if he's wrong that just means it's made him crazy which also means the pit did have some sort of lasting effect on Jason, too. This can't be good.

"How do you even know that?" You question, trying to figure out what is actually going on. If anything, he needs to slow down.

"He'll always go back to where it happened." Dick states.

What?

Your face scrunches in both annoyance and more confusion. You did this round-and-round question game with Jason, you're not doing it with Dick. He wants you to go and find Jason so damn bad, he can give you some clarity, too.

"What the shit with Donna being alive? How the fuck do you even know that?" You almost demand instead of asking.

"I just do." Dick says simply.

"That's not reassuring whatsoever." You mutter with more annoyance.

Dick glances down to you, seeing you grow frustrated. "The pit..." Dick says.

"Yeah, no I figured that out but you're not exactly giving out details here." You roll your eyes before you grab his arm to bring him to a stop. "Dude, seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Come on, we can't waste—" Dick starts as he continues walking.

"No, fuck that shit!" You yell, keeping up with him again. "You know, you batboys do that shit all the time. You guys say you're fine when you're not. You literally just fucking died, Dick. You can't just be fine after that. And you know if the three of you would just fucking talk about how not fine all of you are, we probably wouldn't be in this mess to begin with, right? Like that's your guys' entire fucking problem. I hate talking about my shit, too but I'm learning the more I admit how not fine I am the easier it is and I tend to feel a little bit better about it. The three of you are just fucking annoying about it and if you really think that's not your problem, you're being willfully ignorant and we both know that's not a very Nightwing thing to be." You finish with a scoff and the shake of your head.

And maybe a large part of your frustration is that neither of them seem to think they matter. They are sacrifices. Jason always thinks the world is simply better off without him and Dick thinks he's expendable. He can be the sacrifice for the greater good. It's why he's reckless and why he goes off on his own. Jason does the exact same thing. It's fine to them if they die. But, they leave these people in the wake of their deaths with paralyzing grief. This time it wasn't permanent for either of them but what happens when it is? It shouldn't be because they were reckless and decided to sacrifice themselves because they matter to people. The people who love them and they should be considered in all of this.

Dick glances down to you as you keep your eyes straight, jaw clenched tight. Dying is traumatic but you're right. They don't talk about it. Bruce never talked about anything so Dick wouldn't talk about anything and Jason never talked about anything. Batman and Robin could never be scared and they weren't allowed to let their emotions get in the way. Emotions cause blurriness and distractions. On the field, those things get you killed. But, he's not Robin. He's not with Batman. He just died as Nightwing.

"It was a lot." Dick manages to state.

"Yeah..." You say quietly.

"You almost died. I think you know." Dick says, still partially avoiding the question.

"Yeah, it was really scary and traumatizing." You state flatly because even though you were close, you did not die. He saved you. And Jason saved you. Close doesn't count here.

"Yeah." Dick keeps his word short. "I had to face some...challenges." Dick confesses, feeling the very core of his bones ache with guilt over the brutal beating of Jason even though it wasn't real in the pit. "It's hard to explain. It was a test or something." You look at him, seeing the look of distance and remorse dissolve over his face and you don't need to ask what kind of tests. "I understand Jason a little more now, him as Red Hood." Dick lets out a breath. "But I can't focus on what happened if we're going to stop Crane. "

You nod softly. "Right, yeah, got it." You let out a breath. "Your ability to compartmentalize is really something else but you should really deal with it after instead pushing it off." You say quietly, earning a glance from Dick. "Something else will always come up, you're Nightwing. You're a Titan. I'm just saying, look where we stand today like maybe it would have been different if things weren't always compartmentalized. Maybe you need to feel it sometimes."

The words almost catch you off guard. You've been running from your own pain for so long that you think that's your biggest issue. You run and it hurts you and the people that care about you. It's easier to not feel any of it but it makes being a person harder. There is blood on your hands and a part of you wonders if you had just let yourself grieve, maybe there wouldn't be. Maybe most of what happened between you and Jason after wouldn't have happened because you would have grieved. You would have felt all of it. Maybe had you stuck around after your mom died, let yourself just feel it, you wouldn't have ended up with Jerry. Maybe allowing the pain to bleed a little is how people heal from it. Let it scab over and let it mend itself over time with care and attention.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks. "You were there. You found Jason, you were there with Tim. This is a lot for you, too."

"Yeah..." You let out a sigh. "Like...I-I-I don't know. You're like this weird...weird brother I-I never really wanted or asked for and then you died. And that's just...I don't know. I fuck with you but I respect you and ya know?" You look up with honest eyes. "Kind of would suck a lot if you died permanently. You're like good at this and you're important to the Titans." You roll your shoulder, pulling in a heavy breath. "And to me." You mutter so quietly Dick nearly misses it.

"Thank you." Dick says. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." There's the smallest touch of sarcasm in his voice.

You manage to crack a smile. "Eh, don't get used to it, Dickolas. It's cause you died. Gotta be nice to you for at least an hour." Dick shakes his head but you see the subtle hint of a smile on his face. "Why are we going to find Jason anyway?"

"He'll know how to take out Crane and we need him on the inside. He wouldn't tell Crane he's against him, would he?" Dick asks.

"Doubt it." You scoff. "Jason is smart, methodical. He still wants Crane dead for what he did to me so he's not gonna let Crane think they're on different sides just so he can have the upper hand."

"Good. We find Jason and bring him with us. I have a plan." Dick states with urgency but offers no further explanation.

"Yeah...okay. So, uh, where do I come in? The mediator, still?" You almost laugh at the idea. 

"No. You said Jason wanted to talk, let's talk. You're here because I need you with Jason."

While the idea of them talking is definitely enticing, you aren't completely convinced. Jason didn't pull the trigger this time but it is his fault Dick died. And given how Jason has been about Bruce who wasn't even in Gotham when Jason was killed, you can't help but feel a bit uneasy with Dick wanting to find Jason so soon after surviving the Pit. 

"And how do we know you're not gonna kill Jason? I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want you to kill him and I'd fight like hell to make sure you don't. But...he did kind of just get you killed so you can see why I'm a little confused about you're kind of change of heart, I guess." You explain, eyeing him from the corner of your eye. 

"You'll just have to trust me. I never wanted him dead. He was just giving us no choice." There's something almost sad that trickles into his voice while his expression gives nothing away. 

"There's always a choice, Dick." You say quietly. "You can't say there isn't a choice when you yelled at me for killing and you're mad at Jason for killing. And you preached about how we can't be judge, jury, and executioner. There is a choice."

"Jason was going to kill all of us." Dick defends his stance, not acknowledging the hypocrisy of it all.

"So? And the ones we want dead will keep trying to kill other people. Or worse. Just because we, specifically, aren't their targets doesn't mean they get a pass. The innocent people that are their targets deserve the same amount of care and protection that we offer each other." You pull in a breath, feeling Dick move his stare to you. "We clearly didn't have to kill him, is my point."

This is the most Dick has gotten out about your motive. It's more than it being about the kids left behind. It's the bigger picture. That there is a choice and sometimes it's a bad choice and a hard choice but one that means, in your head, protecting the greater good in the same way Dick wants to protect the Titans. It doesn't mean he agrees with you, but he does see your point of view for once.

"Do you disagree with going after Jason?"

"No." You answer plainly. "I'm just incredibly loyal to him. If it were anyone else, they'd be dead. And I understand that's a bit hypocritical given what I just said. That's why circumstances and background are important when making the decision to kill someone." You shake your head. "I know him. I know him being a cold-blooded killer isn't him. Background matters."

"You're right it does. I do not want him dead." Dick offers a sincere nod towards you before it falls silent between you.

You finally reach the spot from last night where Dick was killed. Dick finds the Red Hood helmet, picks it up and takes it along with him. There's a puddle of blood still on the pavement that makes your stomach twist. It's as if blood stains everything it touches.

You're still unconvinced Jason will be here like Dick says. He's not psychic all of a sudden. But, you stay with him anyway, hoping you run into Jason and of course, you do. Somehow, Dick is right about this. Jason is yelling that Red Hood is back as he fires a gun into the air.

"Jason...it's okay." Dick calls, getting Jason's attention as he spins around quickly. His face is still covered in blood and cuts from the fight the night before. His eyes nearly bug out of his head, this can't be right. "It's me."

He knows the three of you took Dick to the Pit but there is a part of him that still can't believe it worked. Watching the life literally leave someone's body only for them to be alive the following day, that's more than unsettling. It feels wrong. It's the same wrong feeling Jason gets any time he gets a moment of silence and can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

But he is relieved to see Dick walking and alive. The feeling of it being wrong, is just the echo in his own bones. Dick should be the one alive. If the Pit were to work on anyone and offer someone a second chance, it should be Dick.

"It worked?" Jason questions, almost losing the breath from his lungs with the words. His eyes land on you as if you're the only one who can confirm if this is real or not.

You nod once. "Yeah, it did."

"You knew?" Dick asks.

Jason nods. "Rachel said that's where Gar was taking you." Jason explains as his eyes start to grow glassy, the guilt thundering through his bones once more.

"We don't have much time. I need your help." Dick cuts the conversation short, knowing they can't discuss this now but he's getting the idea maybe Jason did just want to talk. He looks hurt and relieved to see him and you.

You, on the other hand, are still uneasy. Dick isn't giving you any indication that this is going to go sideways but you feel yourself grip a knife from your belt anyway. This can't go sideways again. You all working on different teams has not helped fight Crane but working together should. Crane, at the very least, won't see it coming. You just don't want to see anyone else close to you die again.

"You want me to help you?" Jason asks, stretching his arms out at his sides in disbelief. He can't help. Not after what he's become. "I'm a fucking murderer."

"You know how Crane is operating. You know how he thinks." Dick starts. "He needs to be stopped or a lot more people are gonna die." Dick pauses for just a second. "You want redemption?" Dick asks as Jason hangs his head. "Do you?" Dick asks more firmly this time. "This is the first step."

Of course he wants redemption for the harm he's caused but his methods now do not align with Dick's. He's almost gotten them killed and he did kill Hank. He betrayed them. How is he supposed to go back now and help? After everything? After what he's become? It sounds hopeless and he almost lets his pity get the best of him until his eyes meet yours.

"We need your help, Jay." You plead with him.

Jason shakes his head. "You can't stop him." Jason answers with defeat rather than snark. He genuinely believes Gotham is lost to Crane. "He's got everything. The police, the Batcave. He's gonna take the whole fucking city down!"

"How?" Dick asks more in a way that sounds like a demand.

"You think I know?" Jason scoffs. "He doesn't tell me shit."

"Jay? You have to know something. You've been with him this entire time and you wanted to talk to Dick last night. You know something." You urge, practically begging him to just say something.

He told you once that he remembers everything. Crane slipped somewhere and all Jason has to do is remember. Think of whatever the hell Crane said that might be a clue.

Jason hangs his head as tears start to come to his eyes. "It was all crazy shit." Jason pauses for a second. "Like waves of anger and fear. The bright and darkened lands of the Earth. Something about an attack you and Bruce stopped a long time ago." Jason states, looking at Dick with confusion knowing Bruce never told him.

"Years ago, Crane sent a poem to Jim Gordon with clues about an attack on Gotham. A chain of explosives to release his fear toxin. We stopped him before he had the chance to set it off. Bruce took Crane's weapons and put them in the Gotham Armory to study them."

"And Crane's in the Batcave." Jason finishes. "So, he knows where those weapons are."

"And so do we now." Dick states as he extends Jason's helmet out to him. "We need to go."

Jason puts the pistol back in the holster on his leg. "So, I'm a Titan again?" Jason asks.

"No, you'll never be a Titan again." Dick states before he closes the distance between them, offering his helmet. "But, you can help us save Gotham."

Jason eyes the helmet as the feeling of being lost hits him like a ton of bricks. He never really fit in being a Titan anyway but...something about the confirmation that even if he were to change back to who he was before, it's over, really hits him. It's something he can't come back from. That part of his life, Robin, is gone. It's lost to the darkness. The Joker took it from him. Crane took it from him. The one thing he thought made him who he is, is shattered with so many of his hopes. It's lost and gone and Jason can't help but feel alone and lost now.

But, feeling that way got him here in the first place so he takes the helmet from Dick.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me?" Jason asks.

"Because now I know what it's like to die." Dick answers harshly.

Jason's eyes glance to you and then back to the helmet in his hands. It's more guilt. It's always guilt that comes back like the bladed boomerang. Jason knows firsthand what it's like to die, too and that didn't stop him. That was never a reason for him to stop. It doesn't matter that he was drugged and manipulated because, to Jason, Dick's reason should have been enough. It doesn't matter that the drug removed his guilt and his fear and the feeling of being haunted and stalked by something dark and twisted. He should have known better and he put death on Hank anyway. He lead Dick to getting killed.

He should have known better than to go after the people who actually cared about him. He knows what it's like to die and Dick does, too. To Jason, that should give Dick enough reason to kill him and yet...he doesn't and he seems sincere.

"Fine." Jason agrees reluctantly. "How can I help?" Jason asks letting out a steady breath as he nods his head.

"Come on. I've got a car around the block. We're going to break into the vault." Dick says casually as he starts walking past Jason.

Jason looks at you before you roll your eyes, trailing after Dick, Jason falling in line with you. The two of you follow Dick to the car he, for some reason, just has. You and Jason can only assume it's from last night. He had to get to Jason some way. Jason takes the passenger seat while you sit in the back, sitting right in the middle. Dick starts the drive while Jason is stuck in the car with his brother. This is not the ideal situation.

"Do you want to explain any of this?" Dick asks after a few minutes of silence. "How we got here?"

"Not really." Jason quips back with frustration looking out the window. He's not even entirely sure where to start. It all feels like this started so long ago and maybe in a way it did. Maybe it started that day he stole the hubcaps. Maybe he should have listened to Dick and you about Bruce. "After fucking everything, I just can't believe Bruce couldn't fucking kill the Joker." Jason lets out a scoff. "He fucking beat me to death with a fucking crowbar and Bruce just...fucks off somewhere." Jason scoffs again, barely able to hide the crack in his voice.

The car falls dead silent as Dick glances in the rearview mirror at you before you lean forward in between the boys. You and Dick are on the verge of exploding. This really cannot be Jason's entire motive. How the hell doesn't he know? You look at Jason who's giving you a confused and annoyed expression. You look back to Dick who is clearly trying to figure out how he's supposed to burst this bubble without it leading to another fistfight.

"I got it." You state before looking to Jason. "Who exactly do you think killed the Joker?" You blink at him with your brows raised, really hoping Jason's motive is not entirely linked to this little bit of information.

Jason eyes you, looking to the side and then back at you. The look you're giving him with Dick glancing at him has him feeling like Crane may have lied to him about that, too. But, Bruce wouldn't throw his morals away, right? Not for someone like Jason. Not for Jason. Bruce didn't kill the Joker.

"Uh...Crane said it was one of the prisoners who dressed like the Bat?" Jason lets out a scoff, playing it off in hopes this conversation is not going where he thinks it's going.

You look back at Dick who looks like he might have an aneurysm. Jason has been deadset on his new form of justice which you agree with but...if he thinks Bruce didn't kill the Joker for him, maybe that's his motive. You always felt his hatred towards Dick was just some weird rivalry amplified by Crane but if Jason thought no one avenged him...maybe that's it. You almost cringe at the idea of having to burst his bubble.

"You hear it, right?" You ask Jason as you look back at him. "Like..." You pause, scrunching your nose. "Crane, inmate dressing as the Bat."

There is no fucking way Bruce actually killed someone, the Joker, for Jason.

"Did....did Bruce actually do it?" Jason huffs as if he expects you and Dick to be messing with him as some sort of cruel payback or even to get him back on the "good" side.

"Walked into my room with a bloody crowbar." Dick states.

He cannot believe of all lies for Jason to believe from Crane, he had to believe that one. Crane is a manipulative asshole who's had Jason drugged and under his thumb ever since coming back, but how does Jason actually believe this? Even though Bruce has always been completely against murder in any instance, Jason should have known it was a lie. All of Gotham knows it was actually Batman.

"He actually did it?" Jason asks but this time, there's a sense of shock and remorse in his voice.

Every single part of him should feel relieved that Bruce would do this for him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the same guy who has preached about not being judge, jury, and executioner, killed someone for him. Bruce killed The Joker for beating Jason to death and Jason should feel relieved and thankful but instead, he just feels guilty. Maybe wanting Bruce to avenge his death was never the thing he really wanted.

"Yeah, Jay." You nod your head, your voice quiet and sad. "Fuck Bruce, but I told you he loved you."

"Fuck." Jason lets out a groan, resting his head back on the headrest. "I really fucking thought he wouldn't do it."

Jason always thought Bruce would never break that moral code. He said it would be too easy to keep going. It's always just that one and then there would be another who's just as bad. The lines would start to blur and he wouldn't be able to stop. But, Jason did think if he ever were going to break it, it would have been for Dick, not Jason. He had no idea he actually meant that much to Bruce and now Bruce up and leaving Gotham without a trace makes sense. It wasn't that Crane drove him away or some sort of hideaway until things cooled down after losing his son. It was the grief of it all. The blame Bruce has to feel, knowing he led Jason into the road of Robin.

"Was that your only motivation for this?" Dick questions, almost not wanting to know the answer.

"Of course not." Jason sneers. "But...it didn't help." Jason grits his teeth. "I don't fucking know." Jason crosses his arms, not more aggravated over the whole thing than ever.

Crane took everything from him. And Jason trusted him.

"It's okay if you're mad at him for not saving you and thinking he didn't avenge your death." You state softly. "But now you know."

"I'm not though." Jason states as he nearly cuts you off, catching you both off guard. "I'm not fucking mad at him for not saving me." Jason's voice trails off. "I...fuck it. Forget it, alright? Crane lied to me about that, too and here we are." Jason lets out a scoff as he shakes his head before turning to look out his window.

Dick always felt like Jason was the type to hold a grudge, get unreasonable mad about things beyond his control. But, in the time since the tower, he got to know him better, finding out that wasn't entirely true. Jason's statement just now proves that. It was never about Bruce not saving him or even avenging him. It was him being alone. Thrown to the side the second things started to get messy. It was always about him feeling abandoned and less than, not good enough.

And you can see that, too.

You look to Dick and for once, Dick looks worried. "Don't worry," You start, earning a look from Jason. "I'll kill Crane for you." You offer him a soft smile that almost makes Jason laugh.

"Really?" Dick questions with annoyance.

"Don't pretend like you don't want him dead." You chortle.

"Yeah, right." Jason scoffs. "He's too good for it." Jason nearly chortles with you just to mock Dick.

"Hey!" Dick challenges. "Crane is bad, he just needs to remain locked away."

"No, you want him dead." You nod your head. "He killed your brother, drove your adoptive dad away, almost killed me, killed Hank, has been actively trying to get you killed for two weeks, and turned all of Gotham against the Titans. You want him dead. I can tell."

"You got a fucking sixth sense for right now?" Jason quips, this time actually letting a laugh slip from the bottom of his lungs.

"No." You chortle. "Dick isn't as stern when he talks about not killing Crane. He always has this look about killing being wrong and he always says the same thing, he doesn't do either with Crane."

"He's just a bad person." Dick defends himself, not even wanting to humor your theory behind this.

"No shit, man." Jason huffs. "I fucking died and he probably set the whole thing up."

"So did I." Dick states back.

"Gar died, you both died, Donna died and all of you came back. We all just taking turns? Where should I stand in line?" You quip with the intention of not letting them even start an argument.

"Not funny." Jason and Dick say at the same time, making themselves grimace.

You burst into a fit of laughter. "I told you, Jay. You two--"

"Shut the fuck up." Jason hits his head on the back of the headrest, closing his eyes. The last thing he wants to hear is that him and Dick even have one similarity but his voice isn't harsh and there might even the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips.

You lean back in your seat with the shake of your head and a gentle smile. This is going to eat at him for a while but you hope Bruce will come back. Maybe after you take out Crane, Dick will be able to find him and him and Jason can go get him. Maybe Jason getting to see Bruce after all of this will ease some of his guilt. You've had talks about it. You know him being fooled into thinking Bruce didn't avenge him isn't his entire motive. Jason always felt like Bruce could do more and this is doing more. It doesn't make it easy for him or make him feel better, but you know there's always more to Jason's motives than something surface-level.

Once you get to the armory, the three of you enter with ease. There are no guards this time. There's no one even here, just the three of you which allows you to walk right up to the vault. The entire city is in a bit of chaos, using up any force that might have been here. It's not ideal for everyone else, but it is definitely beneficial to you, Jason, and Dick right about now.

You reach the vault door where Jason takes the lead, lining the door with a sort of liquid that then ignites and breaks the seals of the door, fire almost engulfing the door until it hits the floor. Jason is the first one to step inside, his gun pointed forward with a flashlight on top. You follow right behind him with your own flashlight and then Dick.

"Let's go." Dick says once he gets in front of you and Jason, leading the way to case you need.

Dick opens the case only for nothing to be inside besides a book called Collected Poems by Will Auden.

"I don't get it. There's supposed to be like two hundred ampules." Jason states with frustration. "What the fuck is that?"

Dick reaches forward and grabs the book. "Bright and darkened lands of the Earth." Dick states, looking at the book.

You and Jason look between each other and then back to Dick. Of all things for Dick to understand, a random book of poems is the thing he understands. Of course, he does.

"What are you talking about?" Jason asks.

"Crane's poem." Dick states as he opens the book, flipping to somewhere in the middle. "His war on Gotham."

Jason snatches the book back, you looking over his arm to see the page Dick opened.

"Fuck." Jason groans.

Crane's already beat you here. It has to be some sort of gloat thing he's doing, like he's already two steps ahead of you. He's been two steps ahead this whole time and his war on Gotham is now in full swing. What are you all supposed to do if you can't locate the bombs and disable them? What if Crane is already out there ready to blow up the city?

"What are we supposed to do now?" You ask, looking up to Dick.

Dick pauses for a second, looking to the empty case and then back to you and Jason. "Let's go. I have an idea." Dick says quickly before he turns and heads towards the exit.

The three of you head back to the car, taking back your seats as Dick immediately starts driving. You're watching him and you're fascinated by how quickly Dick can change directions. Not a single part of you is surprised but you are fascinated by it. He was trained by Batman. To be out there, as a vigilante, you have to know how to pivot immediately. Dick is really good at it. So, is Jason. It's something the two of them have in common. The ability to adapt to anything and everything, even when everything is covered in bloody chaos.

"One poem, multiple bombs." Dick starts. "Clues to where the bombs are are placed in the poems."

"What's the plan?" Jason asks, his stare on Dick hoping Dick does actually have some sort of backup plan.

"Find some supers and stop the bombs from going off." Dick says it almost casually as if it's something so simple and easy.

"Titans?" Jason scoffs. "What are they gonna do when they see me?"

Jason knows there is no way the Titans are going to welcome him back with open arms and trust him just because Dick and you say he's safe now. Gar might but Kory, Conner, and Rachel won't. He's been actively targeting them and he killed Hank. They're not just going to forget that and move on like nothing happened. They'll likely try and kill him the second they see him at this point. He got Dick killed.

"They're not." Dick states, revving the engine before pulling over at a curb.

"What's going on?" Jason asks once the car is stopped.

"Get out." Dick states.

"Out?" Jason asks, hurt covering his voice.

"I can't bring you back to the Titans. It'll cause a war." Dick explains. "But I do need you."

"So, I'm your dirty little secret?" Jason quips.

"You want to help us, this is the way it's gonna be. I can only fight one war at a time."

You remain silent, not daring to get in the middle of the two of them. It's the smart decision because there's no way everyone will trust him. Everyone will start fighting and arguing and nothing will get done. Crane will win just because there's a fight between the Titans, which is probably what he wants anyway. It might hurt Jason, but it is the only way this can even work.

"When do you need me?" Jason agrees with a bit of reluctance in his voice.

"If you don't hear from me before, meet me back here in three hours. Got it?" Dick asks.

"Yeah." Jason says quietly.

"You, too." Dick looks back at you.

"Why do I have to get out?" You let out a scoff as Jason quickly looks back at you, wondering what you did this time to piss off the rest of the Titans.

"Safety, precautions, you two work well together." Dick states. "Three hours."

"Got it." You nod your head once before you exit the vehicle with Jason.

Once your doors are shut, Dick drives off. You look over to him and Jason dodges your stare, looking to the side. It's the shame that's eating at him. Falling for all of Crane's lies, getting Dick killed, having to be kept a secret. He was once a Titan and now they can't know he's even helping. Instead, Dick has you here because you work well together, sure, but also to make sure Jason doesn't back out of it. He's not even mad because he'd do the same thing but it hurts and he feels so painfully guilty for everything. He's destroyed everything.

"Come on." Jason jerks his head to the right. "Safe house is close." Jason starts walking, helmet in hand while Sam follows him.

The silence between you builds like a sturdy brick wall. It's in the silence that you have time to process everything. It's always the silence that acts as a marinade for all things fueled with anger and misery. Dick might be alive and Jason might be alive but Jason is the reason Dick died in the first place. He could have stopped. For two seconds, Jason could have called a truce and he didn't and Dick died for it. There never would have been a crowd. The kid with the gun wouldn't have been there and Dick wouldn't have gotten shot. Jason didn't pull the trigger, but he didn't have to. Dick stood there and told Jason the reason Dick won't kill him is because he knows what it's like to die. Well, so does Jason so why the fuck didn't Jason take that into consideration?

You know it was the drug but it bites and gnaws at you anyway because watching everyone you care about die is hacking away at you.

"You alright?" Jason finally asks. You being completely silent never sits quite well with him. There is nothing that sounds more deadly than your silence in moments like these.

"I don't know, Jay. I just watched Dick die and come back to life. What the fuck do you think?" You snap without processing your thought.

"The fuck you mad at me for now?" Jason snaps back. "I didn't pull the fucking trigger. I went there to talk." Jason barks, really not wanting to be reprimanded at the moment. He knows.

"You know what? You might as well have, Jason." You snap, your steps becoming harder against the pavement. "You could have stopped at any point and told him you just wanted to talk and explain it but you didn't. Not one part of you decided to do that. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why. So, Dick was killed because of that. You didn't do it. But that kid thinks he did the right thing to protect you. Dick wasn't even the enemy. So, that's shit." You let your own anger get the best of you, not even to tear him a part for it but just because you need to yell about it.

"It's not my fucking fault." Jason groans. "I didn't ask anyone to do that." Jason defends himself, knowing he's wrong.

"You don't have to!" You finally yell. "People will follow you like a damn cult because you command attention when you walk into a room. You are charismatic and enthralling. They have always been some of your best qualities but in this instance, it wasn't good. They believe in you, Jay." You look back over to him as Jason hangs his head, watching his feet hit the wet pavement. "But, Crane turned the city against the Titans, to follow you." You look forward as you shake your head. "I know I told you to work with him, but it didn't have to get to you and Dick fighting and him dying. It never had to end that way. You could turn them back to the right side." Your voice goes quiet with your last sentence earning you a glance from Jason.

"I didn't think he'd listen, alright? He was the one that set up the flash bang and came in ready for a fight. I didn't think it was any use and I didn't know those fucking people would be there. I..." Jason swallows his own words, not wanting to get into it.

You being willing to die for him is one thing. He hates it. He'd never let you if he could help it, especially having experienced what it's like to die. He would never. But, you love him. You have seen him at his good and bad. You've seen everything in between. Jason has fully exposed all of himself to you in every way anyone possibly could. And you would die for him. You would kill for him. No questions asked because you know Jason Todd better than he knows himself half the time. But these random people? They don't know him. Why the fuck would they kill someone for him? Why would they do that?

"I'm sorry, alright?" Jason's voice comes back down. "I know. I could have fucking done something and I didn't." Jason's saw clenches. "I'm fucking trying." His words are firm but there's a hopelessness in them.

"I know." You say quietly.

"I have a lot to make up for and I don't know if I'm gonna be able to do but I promise, I'm trying. I just...fucked it up." Jason's breath leaves his lips, the fog coming out in a haunting blow.

"I know...I just..." You shake your head. "I'm just really worried about all of you, all the time. You, Gar, Dick. You guys are the closest people to me besides Molly and I just...you're very important to me and this could be something so good and it was." You suck in a breath, the cold air starting to dry out your throat. "And I think we all deserve it. The Titans."

"Yeah..." Jason's shoulders slouch forward. "You do." Jason says quietly, keeping his stare ahead him even as you look over to him.

You've always deserved better than anything Gotham has given you. All this city has done is take everything you care about. And you only even started killing because of him. Even when Jason knows there's more to it, that was your breaking point. You're not shunned from being a Titan and maybe that'd be better for you.

"If you want to be a Titan after all of this, you should." Jason states in his way where he tries to sound really casual to hide his real feelings.

You snap your attention back to him. "Why would I do that?" You nearly scoffs at the very idea, especially coming from him.

"You're good at it and you like it. They like you and you fit in." Jason answers with ease, as if it were something he'd thought about more than a few times. "Why trap yourself here if you don't have to?"

It's as if the air is being pulled from your lungs by rusty hooks. How could he say that? He's here. Home is here. Molly is here. It's not a trap being in Gotham. Coming back, coming home, was a choice you made all on your own and not a single ounce of you even regrets it. You can't regret it. You got to reunite with Molly and while it has been agonizing lately, you had some of your best and favorite moments with Jason here. You got to make a different life again. It felt like home again. Here. Not in San Francisco. Why would he tell you to be a Titan?

"You want me to be a Titan?" You ask, doing your best to hide the hurt in your voice.

"Not up to me." Jason shrugs his shoulders casually, still keeping his stare away from you.

"That's not what I asked." You bite back, keeping your stare on him.

Jason looks back over to you as you reach the building. Jason opens the door for you, leading you in first before he shuts and locks the door behind you. You stand directly in front of him so he can't move once the door is shut. He doesn't get to avoid this conversation when he's the one that brought it up. If he wants you to leave, then he can tell you and then deal with the fact you will not.

"Answer me." You demand.

Jason looks to the right before looking back at you. He always thought you would anyway. After everything, it only makes sense to him for you to leave. You said San Francisco caused you so much pain that you didn't want to be there anymore. But, Gotham has caused you so much pain, you're not even the same person you were a month ago. He doesn't want you to leave but he wants you to be happy and he worries that just won't be here. Not with the track record.

"I always thought you would." Jason shrugs as his voice almost trails off.

"Because?" You search as your brows furrow. "What? I'd get bored of you? Tired of you?" Your eyes scan his face, knowing all of his insecurities. He can't hide from you like he can with everyone else.

Jason looks to the ground and back to you with the shrug of his shoulders. "No." Jason answers. "You didn't come back for me. Thought you'd figure it out and just...go back."

You narrow your eyes. "That's not the full reason." You say softly. "Tell me."

Jason shifts his weight, favoring his bad leg as it starts to ache. He shakes his head with defeat. "Just want you to be happy." Jason says honestly. "This place is fucking shit and you know it. And you hate Bruce but you don't wanna give this up. Bruce doesn't like other vigilantes in the city and..." Jason's heart breaks as he watches your expression fall. "Yeah, I thought you'd leave." Jason nods his head.

"Jay, I told--"

"Because I died." Jason cuts you off with a scoff. "That day on the roof, I fucking destroyed you. I died and it completely destroyed you. When you found out about the drug and Crane, then everything else, I thought you'd fucking leave."

"Yeah," You nod quickly as your eyes turn glassy. "It did destroy me. The whole damn thing hurt but that doesn't mean I want to leave. It doesn't mean I want to be a Titan." Your voice is almost pleading with him to not push without you ever saying it. "This is my home and Molly is here and my mom is buried here and you are here. I don't care if we're not together, you're here. The city is a shitshow so it needs us. It needs us and Batman to help."

"Are you sure?" Jason questions. "I mean, look at this place. I just want you to be happy. I don't fucking know."

You let out a sigh. "You didn't answer the question." You state as Jason opens his mouth. "I asked if you wanted me to. You just said you always thought I'd leave."

Jason shakes his head. "Of course not." Jason lets out a scoff, not even trying to lie or dodge it anymore.

"Good cause I'm not leaving, Jay." You nod your head. "I was always happiest here with you." Your words are barely above a whisper as you look to the floor. "So," You pull in a breath. "You don't have that to worry about. I was gonna stay anyway, no plans to leave again. Tired of running." Your voice turns airy, almost hopeful with your last sentence.

"I don't get you." Jason lets out a laugh that's filled with relief.

"Yeah, you do." You laugh softly. "You're the only one whoever did." You shrug your shoulders, moving past him to the stairs. "You know, you and Dick could probably bond over your whole dying experience now. Probably bring you closer." You offer with sarcasm earning a groan and then a laugh as Jason walks over to you.

"Oh, yeah? We sit down for a family dinner at the manor and tell Bruce all about it? Like a fucking field trip?" Jason quips right back as the two of you make your way upstairs.

"Yeah!" You laugh. "Hear me out, it might freak Bruce out which would be funny."

Jason shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "Us getting along? Yeah, that'll freak Bruce out."

You nudge him lightly. "That'll freak everyone out, actually."

The two of you go upstairs into Jason's makeshift bedroom. You head over to the window to look at the people down below. Everyone is fending for themselves and there are still fires in the streets. There aren't any cars this time. There are always cars.

You lean against the wall and slide down, keeping your head turned towards the window as Jason keeps his distance, watching you closely as he traps himself in his own head again. While you have been on Jason's side, you've also actively been trying to make sure the Titans are at a distance and safe from Jason. You can say you've always been on Jason's side this whole time and maybe that's true, but you also were entirely in the middle. It was never Titans or Jason for you. You were always determined to cut the wire. It was always going to be all of them even if it killed you.

Jason remembers you willing to die for him, how terrifying that was. No one in his entire life was ever willing to do that. Maybe Bruce would have but it's something Jason isn't sure of. He was sure of you. Deathstroke proved that and you confirmed it that night. You would die for him because you love him and Jason always thought that was absurd, even if he'd die for you, too. Dying for you seemed to be the easiest thing he would do if it came to it. But you dying for him? Insane. It had to be insanity but these past two weeks have taught him something else entirely.

You would just die for anyone you loved if that's what it took.

There is not a doubt in Jason's mind that you would put your life in danger for Gar. Of course, you would. He's Gar. Everyone would probably do it. There's Molly and Jason actually feels bad for anyone who would even think of coming after her. You'd die for Tim because of course you would. You care about him and Tim is determined and smart. Krypto is no question. You loved Donna and thought she was the coolest Titan, that's easy. You thought Kory was one of the coolest and most badass people you'd ever met while also being immensely kind. You told Jason once that the Titans need her. So, you'd die for her, too. Jason isn't entirely sure of the big reason you'd save Conner or Dawn or Hank but he knows you would. And then there's Dick. You'd save Dick because he's the leader. Because he saved your life. Because you look up to him. Because he's important to everyone.

It's not that you would die for Jason. It's that you would die for anyone you love if it ever came to it. Jason would be lying if he said he doesn't admire that. Though, he wonders if that's what will be your last straw or if you'll understand one day that you shouldn't have to die for the people you care about. Jason swore he'd die for you. That part was easy but the more time that passes, the more he's realizing he wants to live for you. Living is harder. He hopes you learn that, too. You deserve to want to live for someone and for yourself.

"What's with the symbol?" You snap Jason from his thoughts.

"What?" Jason questions, almost doing a double take.

"The rip off bat symbol. Your idea or Crane's?" You ask bluntly as your eyes dart between his and the red symbol on his chest.

Jason looks down to his chest where the red symbol stares up at him. "Mine." Jason chuckles softly, a devilish grin pushing itself onto his lips. "Why?" He asks and he walks over to the other side of the window from you, sliding down the wall and matching your position.

You let out a soft laugh as you shrug. "Funny that's what you would pick given you thought he didn't kill the Joker for you." You pull in a breath. "Why?"

Jason shrugs. "Fuck Bruce." Jason answers easily as if the answer were so simple anyone could have figured it out, as if he isn't neglecting the entire explanation.

The bat symbol represents Bruce's way of thinking. Inciting fear into the hearts of everyone so they don't do bad things. It works, sometimes. But, it doesn't work enough. The bat symbol represents a certain moral compass where even under the worst of circumstances, killing is still wrong. It represents Bruce. Jason wanted something to almost mock him, a fuck you and watch this to Bruce. Fear doesn't always work. It's not the best way. For Jason, he needed something to spite Bruce, prove his methods will be better because there should never be another Jason. Or Dick. Or any of them. No one should have to suffer the way all of them have. It was to represent everything Bruce refused to do for the greater good.

But Bruce did kill The Joker so Jason feels lost.

But then you offer this warm smile, one that says you understand every single thought in his mind without him ever having to explain.

"Yeah..." You sigh softly. "Fuck Bruce." You laugh softly. "I like it, by the way. Bruce only killed him for you. He never would have under any other circumstances." You pause before you tilt your head to the left quickly, raise your brows. "Well, he might have for Dick, too. But, it would have to be one of you. So...good for you, Jay." You nod your head softly.

"Don't think it's fucked?" Jason chortles.

"Oh, no it definitely is." You nod quickly. "I mean, just when I think I've got some daddy issues, I meet you and Dick. It's definitely fucked. But, like it anyway." You smile but Jason doesn't quite match it. There's a sadness washing itself over his face. "I think Gotham will like it, too." You say quietly.

"Yeah? Why?" Jason repositions, pulling his right leg to his chest. "Because I'm charismatic and enthralling?" A touch of a grin finds itself on his lips.

"Fuck you, no." You laugh softly. "They're brainwashed but...I think it took one video because you've already been out there controlling the drug trade, looking to get into guns. You've taken out some really terrible people and are trying to get this shit under control. They already liked you."

"I also helped get a drug onto the streets and contributed to everything with Crane." Jason points out.

"Yeah, but you've been distancing yourself and you also tried to save Nightwing. I mean, you tried to kill him, too but you just tried to save him and they'll remember that. They'll figure out Crane brainwashed them and see you were also brainwashed."

"I guess we'll see." Jason lets out a scoff. "But, thanks." Jason offers you a nod.

"Just being honest." You pull in a breath as you move your stare back to the window. "You gonna keep Red Hooding after this is over then?" You look back at him with hopeful eyes.

Jason shrugs. "Yeah, maybe." Jason nods his head softly. "Especially with Bruce fucking MIA." Jason gives you a soft smile. "You gonna keep this shit up?"

"Absolutely." You nod with confidence. "You're right, I do like it. The vigilantism, I mean." Your smile turns kind and loving. "You're a good Red Hood. You're gonna help a lot of people, Jay." Your smile is warm and honest, filling Jason's entire chest with hope.

"So are you." Jason matches the smile before the two of you look to the window, falling into a comfortable silence.

You get a text from Dick, apparently, the towers are back and running which is a relief but according to his text, Crane released some of his smoke downtown. He leaves the text with a warning for you and Jason to stay where you are until the smoke dies down or until he says otherwise. So, the two of you seem to be stuck here for the night.

You're safe here, entirely. You don't have to worry about the smoke or anyone coming to kill you. You're safe from it all for the first time in weeks and it's as if, weirdly as it is, you both can breathe freely. It doesn't feel like your very breath can shatter the illusion of peace. You both are allowed to breathe freely and openly.

You let your mind wander anywhere but to the disaster outside. The more you're in these situations, the more you're learning to compartmentalize it. There is no choice in this. It has to be done otherwise it'll eat you. You wonder how Dick is able to do it so well. Surely that's how he's so good at being Nightwing. He isn't heartless, he just shelves what he needs to until after a mission. It's something you need to be better at and so you sit here tonight and try to do it. You focus on anything but the disaster.

And then there's Jason who finds his mind going to your previous conversation a few minutes ago. You think he can be a hero again. He can use Red Hood for good, do it his own way. He lifts his head, looking over at you and how peaceful you look. You really do trust him. You really do just believe in him, after everything, there's something in you that believes in him even when you absolutely should not.

Jason keeps his eyes on you, wondering if you're right. He hopes you are. Jason just wants to help. That's what he wants to do. That's all he's wanted to do. That was supposed to be the plan before Crane showed his true motive. Jason wants to help the innocent people Bruce overlooks. Sex workers, sexual assault victims, domestic violence survivors, children who are put in all of these situations. A lot of them never make it onto Bruce's radar. He's busy dealing with everything else and a lot more of it happens in places like Crime Alley, somewhere Bruce doesn't go unless it's the anniversary of his parents' death. Someone needs to keep them safe, too. He wants to control the crime because he does believe that's the right way. No one can stop crime. That's impossible. But, Jason thinks he can control it. It's worth a shot. Someone needs to try. That's what he wants to do.

Maybe he can do it.

"I can feel you staring at me, Jay." You state as you look back over at him.

"Sorry." Jason mutters, feeling heat rush over his cheeks as he looks back outside.

"What's going inside that head of yours?" You ask.

Jason looks back to you, letting a beat pass before he settles on what to say. "Thanks for believing in me and being here." Jason pulls in a breath.

"Always." You say softly before it goes quiet again.

Time ticks by and it's you that ends up glancing towards Jason. He's holding his bad leg to his chest, seeming to be absentmindedly massaging the muscle of his thigh with his thumbs as he keeps his stare out the window. The white streak reflects off the lights from the window and the bruises are bright red from Dick's fists and enimga sticks. But, he doesn't look stressed this time. He looks content for once. And you always think there's hope for him but his position confirms it.

Which, lets your mind wander back to how you and him were. It wanders back to the night outside Excellent Gotham. It was the right thing to do. There is good, there is bad, and there is all of this grey in between. Something might be the right thing to do, for the greater good, to save someone, but that doesn't always make it fair or just or painless. It was the right thing to do, to save Jason. But, you wonder in the silence of the night, what happens after then. The bell has been rung and you're dealing with it but it doesn't feel good. Being around him feels like you're trying to breathe through water. You don't want to give up on you and him. You're gonna take out Crane, the Titans are going to leave, Bruce will probably come back, and it'll start to fall back into a new normal. And you want to know what kind of new normal that's going to be.

You want the new normal to still be you and him.

But you don't even want to ask about it. You hurt him and it just doesn't feel right to ask even if it'll gnaw at you until you do.

"I can feel you staring." Jason quips, looking at you, saying it on purpose.

You roll your eyes but the smile never reaches your eyes before it falls. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." You mock him, waving a hand haphazardly at him before you get to your feet and stretch before you lean your back against the wall. You look back at Jason and you can tell by the raise of his brows and his wide eyes, he's expecting you to elaborate. You let out a defeated sigh. "Hey, Jay?"

"Yes?" Jason answers expectantly.

"Where do we stand?" You ask bluntly. "I mean....you and me." You nod once. "After all of this and everything. I'll follow your lead." You nod a few times. "Ball's in your court this time."

As much as you would like to go to the roof and scream your lungs out about how much you want to be with him and how much you love him, you know you can't. None of that is fair to him. Jason Todd was murdered and then came back from the dead. He was used and abused and manipulated. He's not fine and he should be able to learn how to live now, rediscover who he is after all of this if he needs to. You telling him you want to go right back to where you were before he died, sounds cruel. It's as if you won't give him a choice, like you expect him to just be normal and you don't. So, you ask him and you let it be his decision because it should be. It was you that ended things anyway and it was you that betrayed him, more than he betrayed you is the way you see it.

Jason feels his heart in his throat. He hates this but he knows there is no other choice. He swears this one fucking time, he is not doing it to push. He is doing it for himself and for you. He owes you more. He owes you more than he has ever given you. He owes himself more.

You have said it over and over that Jason is loved and he is not alone, at the very least, he has you and he is loved by you. There is not a single day that he is not eternally grateful for you. But, that's not enough. It's not enough because, after everything, Jason still feels like he is not enough. He watches the chaos he has brought on all of these people who he cares about and who care about him. Someone who is enough, doesn't do that. And he died. The trauma of that isn't going to go away because you love him and he loves you. He desperately wishes it were so simple, but it's not.

Jason swore he would never hurt you but he thinks about that night outside of Excellent Gotham and how it looked like it was ripping you to shreds to end things and to give up on him, even if you never meant it. You didn't deserve it. He needs to figure himself out and sort out some of this pain in his chest before it metastasizes more. He needs to just exist for a second and work on who he is after coming back. He owes it to himself and then he owes it to you. It's not fair to continue something if he isn't sure he'll be okay in the end of this. That's not fair to either of you.

So, as much as it physically pains him, he knows where you stand.

"Uh..." Jason pulls in a breath and you know. Jason doesn't stutter often. "I really fucking hurt you." Jason nods his head.

"I hurt you..." You hang your head in shame before looking back to him.

"Yeah, deserved it though." Jason lets out a scoff before he shakes his head. "Look," Jason starts as he pushes himself off the wall and walks over to you, standing in front of you. "I don't want to ever hurt you again." Jason states and you know there is a but coming. This is not going to end the way you dreamed it would. "So, I think-think we need to sort our shit out."

You hang your head, feeling the lump in your throat. It was as if the night you ended things, it wasn't quite real. He was high and you were mad. Then you rescued him and it's been kind of weird ever since. It didn't feel quite like you broke up but it didn't feel like you were together. It has felt like this weird state of in-between where you're tripping over each other trying to find the right footing. And now, it seems you've found it in an unknown territory. It's scary.

It's scary because after being rescued, Jason is one of the only things you know. And you know that it's going to be good for you to find yourself without him, find out who you are outside of Jason and the Titans. It's for the best and you know. But, you also know Jason and Jason Todd has always loved to avoid things that are good for him. Good to him. What if he avoids this forever and this is really it?

"I'm sorry." Jason says quietly.

"It's okay." You nod up at him. "You're, uh, you're right. You died."

As much as you saw it coming, you feel blindsided. You are not together. He is not breaking up with you because you did it first. But, it feels that way anyway. He is right. You need time and space to heal and deal with everything that's happened. Maybe you could do that together but maybe you need to figure out who you are now. You are not the same people you were before he died. Jason Todd died that day and so did you. You need to just exist without each other even if it is the most painful thing either of you will ever do.

Jason nods. "Yeah," He scoffs. "It's not fucking fair to you or me if we jump into this shit again."

You nod softly. "Yeah...you're right." You push off the wall, closing the distance between you. "For what it's worth, I'm still sorry for everything that's happened to you, Jay." You sniffle softly.

"Thanks. I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you, too." Jason lets out a soft sigh, looking to the floor before he looks back to you. He will find his way back to you because you're everything he's ever wanted and he wants to deserve you one day. "Friends?" He asks, sticking out his hand with the quick raise of his brows.

"For now." You take his hand in yours. "We'll find our way back." You say softly but with certainty.

"Hope so." Jason quips right back with a cheeky grin. "I'll miss you being up my ass all the time."

You roll your eyes as a smile starts to fade over your lips. "Shut the fuck up." You groan,  making Jason chuckle softly. "You're my favorite person, ya know?"

"And you're mine." Jason says simply, without hesitance.

The room falls silent, the two of you still holding each other's hand right in the middle of you. It's as if you aren't sure how to backtrack. How do you go back to being friends? You were never meant to be friends. There was always something more there. Something strong and tender, throbbing and beating like a desperate heart pumping blood through an open artery. You have stained each other with every scar and crumb of yours. How do you take it back? How do you cleanse yourselves and try again? Can you even do it?

Jason's grip on your hand tightens and he doesn't want to leave it like that. As friends. The very idea is bitter and stale. He knows it's for the best. For the first time in his life, he is doing something to better himself and protect you. It's not just self-destruction this time. He wants to be better for himself. He never wants to get here again. And to do that, he needs to do it on his own. Jason won't risk dragging you down with him again as he drowns himself. He's not sure if he'll come out the other end alive this time, but he's willing to try for himself. And then for you. But, that doesn't make this whole thing easier. He still loves you. He still wants you.

You feel it, too. You know he wants to reach forward, pull you into him just for old times sake. You're going to defeat Crane tonight, one way or another, and then you'll go your separate ways for a little bit...as friends. But you think about the last time you had a proper kiss, before you knew you'd end up here. He was alive again. It was a kiss of relief. That's not how you want it to end. You fully believe you will come together again but what if you don't?

The idea makes your stomach twist into knots. And you know Jason isn't going to act on it, out of respect for you. It's the way his hand squeezes yours, the way he won't let go and how he has that dark but kind look in his eyes. The way he is intentionally holding his stance just enough away as if he'll walk into a bear trap with one step forward. He'll never act on it out of respect for your space so when Jason finally starts to move away, you pull him back.

Jason eyes you and then the very corner of your mouth twitches up as you squeeze his hand, pulling him just a little closer to you. You move your eyes up with the raise of your brows before looking back to him and then you shrug effortlessly.

Jason shakes his head. "Fuck it." Jason lets out in a single breath before dropping your hand and cupping your face, slamming his lips against yours.

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[wander-wren]

sometimes i wonder about what fandom is going to look like in 5 or 10 years. i think we might have already started to see a shift.

because, look, most of the oldest, biggest fandoms are from tv shows and movies, in particular ones that go on for years and scores of episodes. star trek, star wars, stargate (is everything star?), doctor who, supernatural…even sherlock really got its biggest popularity boosts in the modern day from tv adaptations. marvel and dc were comics first, too, but movies made them more accessible; their “cinematic universe” tags are the biggest on ao3 by far.

but what tv shows are we getting now? short, 8-episode things that get canceled two or three seasons in, that are usually less-than-faithful adaptations of other media anyway.

what movies are we getting? well, marvel turns more to slop every day, and everything else is remakes and sequels no one asked for. the general populace will still go see them and find some good movies that they like, but there’s not much really for fandom to grasp onto.

the best shows for fandom that we’ve had recently, that i can think of, are stranger things, game of thrones, and maybe our flag means death. stranger things is dying off, especially since they’re looking at a 3-4 YEAR gap between s4 and s5. game of thrones’s popularity plummeted after its final season, we all know that. our flag means death is still chugging fairly okay, but after that second season a lot of the fandom dropped it, and with it now being cancelled, i don’t see it sticking around.

yes, we can chalk part of this up to a new generation to of fans having this growing idea that fandom is super temporary, to be abandoned as soon as its not on trend. but media used to be on trend for a whole lot longer than it is now. seasons were longer, we had filler episodes, things were lower quality sometimes but at least they came out on a consistent schedule. i don’t mind if supernatural isn’t an artistic masterpiece, but if i was a stranger things fan waiting until 2026 for the final season, i would be annoyed if it wasn’t damn near perfect. that’s assuming i watched it at all—we’re all so used to not getting endings and moving on, so why would i bother?

i think there are two types of shows doing sort of okay about this. one is procedurals—9-1-1 is a popular one i’ve run into, and it started in 2018, around the beginning of the decline, but it’s managed 7 seasons in those six years, most of them with 18 episodes. the other is, honestly, anime—though we can and SHOULD talk about the terrible working conditions that make the fast turnarounds there possible. look at how big some anime fandoms are.

judging by the relative fandom popularity of other procedural dramas (grey’s anatomy, law & order, criminal minds), i think that’s going to remain sort of niche. fandom likes fantasy and scifi best, and they just don’t tend to have as strong of an overarching arc to dig into. at least, that’s why i wouldn’t watch them. i think there’s also a good chance these will start to die out in the coming years as well.

anime could also die out a little bit. better working conditions would necessitate less/slower content, and it’s true that most of the popular anime fandoms have been around for years, even decades.

so, what, no new, lasting tv show or movie fandoms anymore?

what will the biggest fandoms be in 5-10 years?

podcast fandoms have a shot. the magnus archives is still going strong, and i’ve been seeing a lot about dungeons and daddies. i think we’re kind of almost past the golden age for podcasts, but i am an outsider, so maybe that will change.

book fandoms seem like a kind of obvious choice, but they just don’t get as big without, you guessed it, a movie or show adaptation. and the downsizing has hit them, too—can you think of anything from the last 5 or 10 years that rivals harry potter, percy jackson, warriors, lord of the rings, hunger games, acotar…even game of thrones (asoiaf) again? i can’t. the collapse of the publishing industry is another post entirely.

2020 is really what cemented these changes, though they were starting in the late 2010s, at least. with actual industries shutting down, there was room for indie creators making things alone in their houses to pop up, and people had more time on their hands to try new things out and get into them.

the two things that have really been on the rise since 2020 is rpf and video game fic—often both combined. we’ve got genshin impact, call of duty, minecraft of course being huge, rpf of various youtubers, and k-pop rpf. now, i think rpf is contentious enough that it won’t really become the main fandom, but video game fic…might be it.

even video blogging rpf can often be a blurred enough line that people are more comfortable with it. and the thing is…youtube creators are actually more reliable than mainstream television these days. they need to be, to maintain their platforms. they need to not cancel series and to live up to their own hype as best they can and to not abandon the channel for 3 or 4 years at a time. and again, you can talk about burnout and unrealistic expectations and all of those things, but it’s still true.

maybe i’m completely wrong. maybe in 10 years the film and publishing industries will all sort themselves out and we’ll go back to the status quo. but i think this position fandom is finding itself in is interesting, and i wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if what’s most popular (both in the specific source material sense and the medium/genre sense) is different some time down the road.

[glitteringcrab]

Morty Prime's personality regression

Some fans (and I'm among those fans) feel like it seems Morty Prime's character development has regressed after Unmortiricken (S7E5).

Like he's more docile... less challenging of Rick... more accepting of Rick's shit...

There are a few possible explanations for this:

1. Morty sub-consciously trying his hardest not to act like Evil Morty

2. Evil Morty planting in Morty Prime's head the poisonous idea that Rick C-137 might commit suicide if Morty Prime is not there to emotionally support him

3. Rick C-137 is not so much a jerk these days. He hasn't messed with Morty with any Vats of Acid, hasn't created a robot version of himself. The worse thing he did was the Valhalla thing.

4. Morty Prime being more understanding of Rick C-137's mental state and finding more patience to deal with him.

But... at the same time, some of Morty's behaviors seemed so out of character that we fans (and I was among those faaaaans) built a whole theory that Morty Prime had been replaced by Evil Morty post Unmortricken....! ("Freaky Mortys Theory", for anyone interested. There are tags with it)

I think if we look a bit deeper in this season's Morty Prime (and the previous seasons) we'll notice some... interesting things.

Let's compare Morty Prime's and Evil Morty's capabilities and personality characteristics across the seasons, shall we?

Charisma

Evil Morty got himself elected:

Morty Prime convincing (little pieces of himself) as Marta:

Morty Prime rallying the trapped Mortys:

Gosh, they even do the same gestures

A "healthy" Morty Prime, no longer burdened by his awkwardness can climb the social ladder really fast:

And of course, the attribute slider:

Intelligence (probably one of Evil Morty's defining characteristics - "you're like an evil Morty, a clever one" as Rick Prime put it)

I'd have to put screenshots of every single scene Evil Morty is in, so let's dig in straight to Morty Prime instead lol

See above attribute slider.

See above Morty managing to become a Stock Broker, totally something a moron could do

Morty Prime casually disarming neutrino bombs, totally something a moron could do

Morty Prime beating Rick at a board game (and Rick freaking mind blowing him over it, the giant 8-year-old)

Suddenly being able to do math, which meant that he always could do math, he just wasn't really motivated to try:

And mind you, this was in Season 7 post Unmorticken, during the time we felt that Morty Prime's personality had regressed, and it was one of the "clues" we fans used as "proof" that this was really Evil Morty.

Of course, Morty Prime has A LOT (like, A LOT) of dumb moments as well. But the capability of intelligence is definitely there.

Manipulation

All of Evil Morty, where to even start lol

Let's head for Morty Prime instead.

Morty Prime presenting himself as super ecologically sensitive to Planetina. I mean, he definitely was on board with ecological activism etc, but he also wouldn't visit random forest fires to help. The liar. Planetina somehow fell for that.

"I'm your little brother, you have to take care of me!" was Morty Prime trying his hand at manipulation with Summer. And this was in Season 7 post Unmortricken, during Morty Prime's "regressed" phase.

The "trickle down effect" with Tricia seeing him ripped by the attribute slider was pretty clever, and manipulative (not maliciously, but still). This was ALSO in Season 7 post Unmortricken, during Morty Prime's "regressed" phase.

"Why would I be friends with a witch" was very fast thinking on Morty's part:

Again, this was in Season 7 post Unmortricken, in Morty Prime's "regressed" phase.

Physical abilities

Lookit Evil Morty flying:

And now look at Mort Prime performing Evil Morty's flying kick, which he definitely couldn't do before Unmortricken:

This was one of the "clues" we fans interpreted as "proof" that this was really Evil Morty, but since that theory has been jossed, the next obvious conclusion is that Morty Prime has been training.

And this was in Season 7 post Unmortricken as well, where we fans have been complaining about Morty Prime's personality regressing.

Extreme self harm as a step to freedom

I'm a hundred percent sure Evil Morty orchestrated his own assassination attempt and willingly walked towards the person who'd shoot him:

And, as another fan pointed (check out the tags!), Morty Prime did this:

Even the other guy, who was trying to kill Morty in that scene, is disturbed lol

Murder

Evil Morty probably has the biggest body count out of anyone, along with Rick C-137... But Morty Prime can get... trigger happy as well.

Shooting Rick C-137 in a fit of rage:

Getting really happy in the "trigger-happy" part during the Purging episode:

(thankfully, it was not played as a joke)

The Death Crystals deserve a special mention. So many people dead, just so he could grow old with his crush ("and people call me Evil Morty") and somehow it's played as a joke:

All those poor dudes in the Narnia dimension:

Desensitization to murder

It seems that any amount of murder is small potatoes to Evil Morty:

In "Mort: Ragnarick" Morty Prime complains about being desensitized to murder, and then Rick makes him kill people repeatedly (which Morty does obediently), during an episode where he has one of the highest body counts:

Most of the people he keeps killing are immortal Viking ghosts who literally live to die (lol) but Morty still is the one committing the murder, and he even tells Rick not to kill the Vatican guards (who die for real) every time, which I think Rick actually agreed with, thankfully...

Needless cruelty

There was no need for this, Evil Morty!!!! It served zero rational purpose!

Oh, you're gonna think. Morty Prime is not like that. Sure, he kills people, but he never draws it out.

Think again:

"Careful, Ethan. Your s'more is burning."

Ethan simply dumped Morty's sister!! That's not good enough reason to turn him into a deformed monster, Ethan was just being an immature teenager!

...Not to mention Morty Prime literally tried to roofie Jessica (not exactly cruel, but... quite evil).

Okay, I'm gonna stop here and say that I don't mean to stretch things. We've known Morty Prime for 7 seasons and the amount of times he has been manipulative, trigger-happy or evil can each be counted on one hand, while those same characteristics are pretty much defining of Evil Morty. The potential exists in Morty Prime, but it becomes reality in its most extreme form in Evil Morty.

In addition, there are some differences between the two:

Evil Morty has patience, single-minded focus and the ability to come up with incredibly convoluted schemes (it's... almost like he spent unimaginable amounts of time trapped as a prisoner in his own body, unable to act, unable to do anything but wait and plan), while it also seems he is devoid of empathy (cough), forgiveness, or the desire for connection (I will probably make separate posts for the those two).

POINT 1: I suspect that their differences can be accounted for if the theory that they grew up differently is true; one in the safety of his home and family, the other in the uncertain and hostile environment of the Citadel.

Morty Prime never had to be manipulative, because he could always just ask to get what he needed. His more violent tendencies get suppressed by the humane examples his (non-Rick) family members set. He tries to do the right, moral thing 99% of the time because he grew up learning the virtues of kindness and compassion, and did not get brainwashed by a hundred different versions of his nihilistic grandpa into discarding universes and people like single-use coffee cups.

I suspect that Morty Prime and Evil Morty might be WAY too similar, and it's just that Evil Morty's brain is in constant overdrive survival mode, while Morty Prime is in normal kid mode.

I suspect that the parallel between Morty Prime and Evil Morty is meant to be a story of "nature vs nurture" and the effects of long-term abuse and neglect can have on a child.

POINT 2: I suspect that the series' climax might revolve around a revelation that Rick was wrong all along:

That Morty Prime (and any Morty) is just as clever as any Rick, and he doesn't get to show his brilliance because he's just a young child who can do stuff like waste time playing videogames and date girls and hung around with his family instead of honing every skill he has into a deadly weapon just so he can survive.

I feel like this is a revelation that has been building up for a while:

(and poor Morty doesn't react in this scene during Rick's admittance, because of course it doesn't concern him: he is just an idiot, he is not "intelligent in a different way" like Bigfoot is)

POINT 3: While it may be true that Morty Prime has been more... docile and patient and forgiving of Rick post Unmortricken, the way I see it, he's also physically training, is becoming more manipulative and we have more proof that he's actually really smart.

...So, I wouldn't call his personality change a "regression"...

...more like... a shift... towards higher forgiveness and tolerance and towards cultivating his capabilities.

Which, if Rick C-137 screws up and does something to betray Morty Prime's unconditional love, would bode really badly.

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Quinn Hughes Edition (Thirteen)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: twelve

next: thirteen

NOVEMBER 15, 2023

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, bboser, and 19,859 others

yourusername welcome back to my postgame penalty box update show: QUINN MOTHER FUCKING HUGHES RUNS THE WORLD edition!

tonight, quinn went head to head (not literally though because quinny doesn't take face offs) with his ex captain/dad, bo horvat! (whom i miss very much!) and for those who were unfortunate enough to miss it, it was a DOOZY! this game was the best so here's a full play by play: sissy's version

let me start you off with the wonderful news that as of today, november 15th, quinn is the only defenseman in the league with a +20! this is my best friend's season! and bo got welcome home signs, and an amazing tribute video, and i was so heartbroken that i wasn't there because i just wanted to wrap him up in the biggest hug!

my nuckies didn't start off *strong* because ian got two penalties in a row and the islanders cashed in on both (rude) but things started going our way in the second! we got a power play and my good man millsy cashed in!!

and then we learned that petey can juggle and ride a unicycle at the same time! i already knew that, but shorty said "i don't know how many nhl players can juggle and ride a unicycle. i don't know how many nhl players have tried to juggle and ride a unicycle, but we know elias pettersson can!" and i DIED! we love sports journalism

and then bo was an absolute RUDE HEAD and scored against demmer! the disrespect! but don't worry, sissy fans— we got another power play and my favorite blonde princess scored on it! my least favorite hughes got an assist on it which means that QUINNY CURRENTLY LEADS THE LEAGUE IN ASSISTS AND IS TIED FOR SECOND IN POINTS!

now, if you didn't watch, you might be wondering "what the heckers is going on in the fifth pic?" well, my lovelies, there was a scrum and quinn decided to put the "hug" in huggy bear by holding palmieri in a cute little headlock and they had to be separated! quinny's gone wild! watch out!

in the third, two islanders penalties were called at once, so we got ourselves a 5 on 3! hronek cashed in on it with a 100 mph (there was great debate over this) slap shot! and quinn got ANOTHER assist! for those not counting, this made the score 3-3

next up: overtime! i was so scared because i did not want bo & co to win on his homecoming. i like poetry! and i got my wish because guess who scored the game winning goal? you guessed it! QUINN MOTHER FUCKING HUGHES! i was jumping (ish) and screaming (a lot) and i got my wish of poetry because it was the 43rd shot on goal for the canucks and it was quinn's third career overtime goal! (yes, he gets a trophy!!)

quinn, i am so unbelievably proud of you. you're making this your season and doing everything you've been working on the last few summers. you're finally being recognized for your talent, and i’ve never been happier. just always remember who your biggest fan is💙 i love you way past infinity!

tagged _quinnhughes

view all 247 comments

_quinnhughes i could've gone without the facetime call where you just screamed, but i still love you way past beyond, sissy💙

yourusername stfu you love my postgame facetimes

_quinnhughes you can't prove it

yourusername maybe not, but i feel it in my heart. my soul. my ass.

_quinnhughes you were so close to being poetic

yourusername i was poetic, you just don't appreciate my work

trevorzegras @/yourusername i appreciate your work

yourusername @/trevorzegras that's because you're a SIMP

trevorzegras @/yourusername damn right

user81 HE WAS SMILEY AFTER HIS GOAL I'M-😭

jackhughes @_quinnhughes WOOOOOO!

yourusername that's what i'm sayin'!

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes wow, i can't decide if "AHHHHHH" or "WOOOOO" means more to me

jackhughes @_quinnhughes i used six o's! you only typed five

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes well that changes everything

yourusername @_quinnhughes i feel like screaming incoherently via the phone has a lot more heart to it. i cared enough to call.

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes that wasn't an invitation to call me and scream "woo" with six o's!

jackhughes @_quinnhughes yes it was

yourusername @/jackhughes stop being an attention whore

jackhughes @/yourusername you first

yourusername @/jackhughes i can't, it's half my personality

_quinnhughes @/yourusername @/jackhughes i decided that sissy's means more because hers came with tears

yourusername @/jackhughes ✨suck it✨

user6 quinn did NOT want to be interviewed midway through the game omfg

user80 okay but the petey on a unicycle thing was so out of pocket😭 do you think he practiced when him and quinn lived together?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes i'm also at six games! you aren't special

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras you haven't played your last four games?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes technicalities schmalities

yourusername @/trevorzegras you've gotten plenty of sissy penalties

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras and i haven't gotten any of those in at least two weeks!

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes you don't live with her!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras technicalities schmalities

user62 THAT'S MY FIRST STAR OF THE GAME!!

bohorvat i miss you, too, y/n! you should come next time!

yourusername i’ll be gender reveal party planning! and very pregnant!

bohorvat i guess that's a valid excuse

yourusername oh good because then i’d have to think of a fake one that was better

_quinnhughes @/yourusername i need to know your first thought

yourusername @_quinnhughes "that's the day i'm planning to put jack into a permanent coma"

bohorvat both are equally good

_quinnhughes @/yourusername you should do that anyways

jackhughes @/yourusername @_quinnhughes HEY

yourusername @/jackhughes hi? didn't we just talk about you to stop being an attention whore? i’m going to need to see some more effort from you

bboeser am i not your only blonde princess?

yourusername you are? what is the issue here?

bboeser you said i’m your favorite which normally means that there's more than one

yourusername i will not hesitate to deem someone else a blonde princess and make you my least favorite if you won't be GRATEFUL

_quinnhughes @/yourusername what other blondes do you know?

yourusername @_quinnhughes i’ll just make jamie bleach his hair blonde

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername you better mean benn

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale you did it as a youth! it'll only be a little haunting! but it's for a good cause!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername spite is not a good cause

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale maybe not to YOU

user48 "quinn decided to put the "hug" in huggy bear" HA

user3 we can't play who's sissy's least favorite hughes because you already said it in the caption :(

yourusername i'm sorry :( it was to match me calling brock my favorite! i’ll be more mindful of my fans next time🫡

lhughes_06 tag yourself i'm the ninth pic

yourusername i’m the second pic!

lhughes_06 you're no fun

yourusername i’m a happy person! mostly!

jackhughes i’m quinn in the fifth pic and @.yourusername is palmieri

yourusername @/jackhughes ummm uno reverse that

jackhughes @/yourusername you should've tagged yourself first then!

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes don't flatter yourself

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 sissy doesn't always win!

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes i’m not sure me and trevor grabbing her before she hits her head on something counts as you winning

jackhughes @_quinnhughes her being a klutz is not on me

_alexturcotte i’m the seventh pic over this argument

lhughes_06 @_alexturcotte nailed it

user88 jack and sissy are back at it again

user76 this game had me screaming and crying both in good and bad ways

colecaufield @_quinnhughes i think your headlock move has satisfied y/n for the time being

_quinnhughes @/colecaufield wait for it

yourusername @/colecaufield he still didn't get a penalty! he should've thrown hands

_quinnhughes there it is

trevorzegras @/yourusername he tried his best! he got separated!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras i really didn't

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes i’m trying to help you

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras she won't be satisfied until i "throw hands"

yourusername this is true

colecaufield @/yourusername have you ever heard of "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit"?

yourusername @/colecaufield no <3

user32 why is no one talking about the fourth pic? i think we need to talk about the fourth pic

_alexturcotte six whole games since his last penalty? that's too many

yourusername is that because you're only at four?

_alexturcotte YOU COUNTED?!

yourusername don't think my son didn't text me that you got a penalty when you played against my babies on october 29th! i know you slashed!

colemcward @_alexturcotte my bad

yourusername @/colemcward you do nothing wrong, ever. i miss you and i love you. so much. thank you for tattling<3

colemcward @/yourusername i miss and love you, too, mom!❤️

_alexturcotte AND YOU WAITED UNTIL NOW TO BRING IT UP?

yourusername i was waiting for the perfect moment to truly belittle you

trevorzegras @/yourusername what other information do you have that you're waiting for the perfect moment for?

yourusername @/trevorzegras that's classified

_alexturcotte this is terrifying at best

_quinnhughes @_alexturcotte she holds grudges for things like this

yourusername @_quinnhughes you mean like how i still remember your interference penalty against robo in the third period on february 27th, 2023?

_quinnhughes @_alexturcotte see?

trevorzegras @_alexturcotte you done fucked up, bud

colemcward @_alexturcotte (mom don't read this!) my bad

_alexturcotte great

[coraniaid]

I understand why it happens, but it's kind of striking how quickly fighting vampires on Buffy goes from being something that only the Slayer can do at all ("she alone will stand against the vampires", as the opening narration tells us in the first two seasons) to something only the Slayer can do well (meaning that other people can try but they'll risk getting hurt or letting vampires escape), to something that only the Slayer can be trusted to do properly (even if it might seem superficially that other people are doing okay) and then finally to something so mundane that pretty much anybody can do it, with or without any special powers.

The pair of mid-season 3 episodes I've reached during my current rewatch (Gingerbread and Helpless) almost feels like the last time that the writers will really take seriously the initial premise that being able to fight vampires is not something anyone can be expected to manage if they just put a little effort in. Both of them feature as plot points the idea that being able to fight vampires makes Buffy somehow uniquely special (which is perhaps one reason why Faith doesn't appear in either one of them). And yet, if anything , they already feel a little anachronistic at this stage in the show's history.

In Season 1 or early Season 2, the idea of Joyce accompanying Buffy on patrol as a sort of impromptu mother-daughter bonding event would have felt ridiculous (and not just because Joyce had no clue that Buffy was the Slayer or that vampires even existed) and it's clear in Gingerbread that we're still meant to think that it is. But it's a little harder to accept that when we've seen Buffy going on patrol while casually chatting with Willow just a couple of episodes earlier, or when we know that Willow, Oz and Xander spent all summer fighting vampires without sustanining any significant injuries. If it's okay for them, why can't Joyce tag along while Buffy's on patrol? (It's presumably not going to lead to her trying to burn her daughter at the stake every single time.)

Equally, the test that the Watchers' Council subject Buffy to in Helpless -- in which she is robbed of her powers and forced to fight a vampire without them -- is meant to be cruel and arbitrary. But by Season 7 the writers will decide that expecting a bunch of teenage girls with absolutely no special powers to be able to fight vampires is, in fact, a perfectly reasonable thing to do. And as the show progresses, more and more people without powers will do just that. Indeed, the conclusion of this very season will upend the show's premise by having Buffy's classmates take on a small army of vampires at their graduation ceremony.

In fact, vampires as a serious threat at all become increasingly rare in the show, starting from around this season. This season's main vampire adversary Mr Trick has been relegated to a subordinate role after less than a full episode on his own devices, and this is a role he will only manage to keep for a few more episodes. Despite a fun first appearance, Trick has never really managed to make an impression in the way that the Master or Spike or Drusilla or Angelus did. I'm honestly not even sure when exactly Buffy first learns his name. This season's Big Bad, the Mayor, is the first primary season villain not to be a vampire, and in fact no vampire will ever get to play this role again.

(Vampires in general start to become so quotidian and non-threatening that by Season 7 the writers resort to the rather embarrassing measure of introducing a brand new special type of really dangerous vampire, with decidedly mixed results.)

I might be missing a couple of names, but I think the list below covers every single speaking vampire character that appears in more than one episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Darla (first appears in Season 1, last appears in Season 1)

The Master (first appears in Season 1, last appears in Season 3)

Angel (first appears in Season 1, last appears in Season 7)

Luke (first appears in Sesaon 1, last appears in Season 1)

The Anointed One (first appears in Season 1, last appears in Season 2)

Spike (first appears in Season 2, last appears in Season 7)

Drusilla (first appears in Season 2, last appears in Season 5)

Dalton (first appears in Season 2, last appears in Season 2)

Lyle Gorch (first appears in Season 2, last appears in Season 3)

Mr Trick (first appears in Season 3, last appears in Season 3)

Wishverse!Willow (first appears in Season 3, last appears in Season 3)

Tom (first appears in Season 4, last appears in Season 4)

Harmony (first appears in Season 1, first appears as a vampire in Season 4, last appears in Season 5)

Sandy (first appears in Season 3, first appears as a vampire in Season 5, last appears in Season 5)

And what's striking about this list is that we have, less than a third of the way through the show, already met almost everybody on it. The only two recurring vampire characters with speaking parts who haven't appeared at least once already as of The Wish are Harmony (who we've met, but not yet as a vampire), Sandy (who we'll meet as a human in just a few episodes), and 'Tom', a character so unimportant I had to look his name up on IMDB because it is never spoken in the script for either of the two episodes he appears in. (He's one of Sunday's goons who's later captured by the Initiative, if you were wondering.) More recurring vampires have already appeared for the last time than are yet to appear, with still a hundred episodes left to go.

Yet, at the same time, (unnamed, mostly harmless) vampires will actually appear in almost every episode of Buffy until the show ends. Season 3 is actually the first season of the show to feature a vampire on-screen in every episode. The season where vampires appear least is actually the first: there are four episode of Season 1 with no vampires at all, and only three other episodes where that's true (one in Season 2 and two in Season 4). Perhaps that's why Season 1 is able to take them seriously as an obstacle.

Buffy will continue to be a show where vampires feature heavily after this run of episodes, but it won't ever really be a show where the audience is expected to find them particularly menacing. Even in The Zeppo, the very first episode after these two, it feels telling that the supernatural threat Buffy is worried about Xander being exposed to -- and the dangerous enemies she and the other Scoobies fight in the background while we follow Xander around town -- are demons, not vampires. Because as much as the show wants us to think that Xander is the "Jimmy Olsen" of the group, by this point it's stretching credulity to suggest that even he would be seriously troubled by something as unimpressive as a mere vampire.