#shredded. basically nonexistent.

[wizardnuke]

sold my piece of shit car im 250 richer. that thing is worth 200

[theemporium]

[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part one here

.

It was chaos the second you walked through the door.

You had never seen the house in such a state: orders being yelled out, people pushing past each other, guns and weapons being loaded onto belts and into bags, screams so loud they were basically incoherent. 

Somewhere in the mess, Nico had taken your hand and refused to let go. You couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away just yet either. 

He tugged you through the bustling crowd of people, pulling you towards a large dining room in the back of the house—the one used for the weekly family dinners—when the incoherent screams began to make sense. You could hear each of their voices so clear, so distinct, so angry. 

It made something in your own chest tighten and twist into something ugly.

Jesper was the first one to notice you both. Or maybe he was the only one willing to tear his eyes away from the heart-stopping sight in the middle of the room. 

You had seen Jack in many states. You had seen him in his usual everyday, bubbly and loud moods where he was charming and sweet and a little sassy. You had seen him drunk and clingy and throwing himself around like he was unstoppable. You had seen him silent and angry and huffy when things didn’t go his way, when he messed up or didn’t do something up to his personal standards. 

You had seen him so many ways and yet, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him now. 

He looked dead. 

There was no other way to put it, no way to sugarcoat it. He was laying out on the dining table they used for family dinners: his face was black and bruised and cut up, his clothes were ripped and wrecked, his shirt was practically nonexistent and giving you a clear view of his torso. 

It was shredded. 

You had seen men die in a million different ways, fast and slow and easy and torturous. You had seen men on the brink of their life, begging and pleading and praying to a god that wasn’t watching over them. You had seen men beg for mercy. You had seen men so arrogant they could barely finish their sentence before the bullet was put through their head. 

But you had never seen something like this—or maybe you had never seen someone you care about like this.

There were large gashes spanning across his stomach. They were huge and deep and gruesome to look at. And it was bloody. So bloody. So much blood seeping out of his wounds and staining his skin, his clothes, the table, the wood. 

Everything. 

And his body was unresponsive. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale. 

And he looked dead. 

Jack Hughes looked dead and it made you queasy. 

It hadn’t even clicked to you where the screams were coming from, or rather who they were coming from before you heard Jesper talking.

“They can’t do anything to help him until he moves,” Jesper rasped, something quite like fear lacing his words as he spoke. “Nico, he’s freaking out and he’s—”

“I’m not leaving! I-I can’t! He can’t leave me!” 

Your eyes snapped over Jesper’s shoulder, finally spotting Luke being held back by Kurtis and Kevin with sombre looks on their faces. He was thrashing against their hold, angry and worried and upset. For the first time since you met the boy, it hit you just how young he really looked when his emotions really took over. 

“Get him out of here,” Nico hissed, short and snappy but the concern could still be heard. 

“We can’t,” Jesper repeated, exasperated. “We tried—” 

“Let me,” you spoke up, not even waiting for a response from the two boys before you headed straight towards Luke and the others.  

“He can’t be dead,” Luke yelled, his voice raspy and broken. “He—He can’t!” 

“Luke,” Kurtis tried, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “They need to—” 

“He’s not allowed to die!” Luke pleaded, his voice almost sounding like a choked out sob. “He…we…he can’t!”

“And he won’t,” you said in a firm voice, even if the words tasted like battery acid on your tongue. “He won’t die if you let them help, Luke.”

His eyes snapped away from Jack, away from his dying brother on the table, to look at you and it broke your heart. It broke your heart to see the fear and anguish and misery, a haunted look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand but shattered the pieces of your heart into dust regardless. 

“I can’t do this alone,” he whispered, no longer tugging against the hands pulling him back as he stared at you with a hopeless expression. “I don’t want to do this without him.”

“You won’t,” you said it like a promise. 

Luke shook his head, his eyes red and glossy from tears. “You don’t know that—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “I do know that. It’s scary, I know. But you’re not alone and neither is Jack. The doctors are going to do everything they can, Luke.” 

A small ‘ooft’ left your lips as the boy stumbled forward, as his body fell into yours and you caught him as best you could, letting him press his face against your shoulder and let the fight leave his body. 

“Let’s give them space, okay?” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Stay with me?” 

“Of course,” you murmured, squeezing him tighter. 

…

You had spent almost every day with Luke Hughes for the better part of the last four months.

You had seen the younger child charm in him, the slightly awkward but endearing allure that captivated a part of you. You never had any siblings, destined to be the only child your parents had, but you liked to think in another world you had a younger sibling quite like Luke: one that was good-natured and irritating and sassy and witty. 

You liked to think that in this world, in this lifetime where you met under unwanted circumstances, that he was more than the boy appointed to be your bodyguard under Nico’s command.

Even from day one, he had never seemed like the young, obedient henchman following the instructions given to him by his boss in an eager attempt to please him. He became a friend, even if it took him a few weeks of wiggling his way into your life until you accepted it. You cared for him more than you ever cared for the younger boys back in New York that made feeble attempts to get on your good side to get an in with Jacob.

You had been denying a lot of emotions and feelings and truths to yourself over the last few weeks and Luke was one of them. You cared for the younger boy. You saw him as a friend, as a brother even. It hurt when he was upset with you, ignoring you for a few days. 

And it hurt seeing him now, so broken and hopeless and a shell of the boy who was usually finding new ways to get under your skin. 

“He’s all I have left,” Luke murmured, his cheek squished against the pillow beneath his head. “I know the Devils are a family but—”

“I know,” you assured him before the guilt of his words could swallow him whole. “He’s your brother. No one is judging you.” 

“I should be beside him,” Luke rasped. 

“What Jack needs right now is the doctors,” you murmured, pushing some curls away from his face and watching his eyes flutter shut. “And you need to rest.” 

His eyes snapped open. “I can’t—”

“You will,” you said with a pointed look. “You can stay here. If he wakes up, I’ll wake you up.” 

Luke swallowed. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” you said with a soft smile.

“You’re a good person, Rogue,” he whispered as he slumped back down against the pillow, no longer fighting the exhaustion. 

“Yeah, you too, kid,” you said fondly. 

You didn’t move from your spot until the boy had fallen asleep, his breaths slowing and his face looking a little more peaceful as he rested. And even then, you remained for a little longer just in case. It was only once you were sure Luke was asleep and okay that you moved to stand up, throwing a blanket over him before you snuck out of your own bedroom. 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you turned around to find Nico leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you. 

“Sorry,” he shot you a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I didn’t expect anyone to be outside,” you admitted, slumping against the door as you mirrored his smile. “How’s Jack?” 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Nico said, and you felt the relief hit you like a truck. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud (especially around Luke), you were terrified of the other outcome, that Luke would wake up to his brother gone. “Probably won’t be happy he will be stuck on bedrest for a few weeks.”

You snorted, despite yourself. “He will be bummed but at least he will be alive.”

“How’s Luke?” Nico asked, a crease between his brows as he tried—and failed—to hide his concern. 

“He’ll be okay too,” you said with a soft but sad smile. “I know Jack is his brother but…god, seeing him like that was heartbreaking.” 

“Thank you,” Nico murmured, watching as your face morphed into one of confusion before he nodded towards your bedroom. “For what you did for him.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said, the emotions of the last hour or so finally catching up on you as you tried to ease the suffocating feeling around your throat. “I always wanted a roommate,” you added, though the joke fell flat. 

Nico frowned. 

“Sorry,” you winced a little. “I was just going to sleep on the floor anyways—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nico quickly intercepted. “You can sleep in my room.”

You paused, raising your brows. “I thought that wasn’t until we were married.”

His lips twitched. “We can make some exceptions.” 

…

The second you stepped into his room, you almost wanted to laugh. 

Maybe it was the rush of emotions or maybe it was the fact that after four months, some things about Nico Hischier were so predictable to you and his bedroom was one of them. It had dark wooden floors and matching furniture. It was black silk sheets and a door that led off to a walk-in wardrobe where you could almost imagine all his suits neatly hung up. It was fit for a mob boss. 

And then there were the things that did genuinely catch you by surprise. 

The bookshelves stocked with a variety of titles you both recognised and had never heard of before. Trinkets dotted around the room like small reminders. Photo frames holding pictures that almost made him seem like a normal person, like he was just some twenty-something year old who wanted to decorate his space with sweet memories. 

It was just another one of those things that made your chest tighten. 

You had been staring at a photo on his dresser—one of him, Jonas and Timo grinning shamelessly at the camera whilst they sat in some bar—when you heard the man let out a sigh. He was slumped against the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair and almost looking out of place in his casual wear from the picnic. 

And he looked exhausted. Dejected. Crushed. 

Your feet were moving before you could stop yourself, before you could second-guess your actions. 

Nico lifted his head as you stood in front of him, his legs spreading a little wider as you stood between them and replaced his hand with your own. His eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling for a few moments before you spoke. 

“Jack and Luke will be fine,” you murmured, nails lightly scratching against his scalp as he let out a deep sigh.

“I know,” he swallowed harshly. “I just worry. They have been through so much and today could have been avoided and—”

You lightly tugged on his hair for him to continue. 

Nico looked contemplative before he spoke. “Did Luke ever tell you about Quinn?”

Your brows furrowed together. “Who’s Quinn?” 

“He was Jack and Luke’s oldest brother,” Nico said, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You blinked. “Was as in…?”

“Dead,” Nico confirmed with a nod. “They used to live in Toronto. They got into some shit with some bad people up there but Quinn never made it out alive. Jack and Luke were lucky to make it to New Jersey.” 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, the realisation hitting you like a punch in the gut. His freakout went beyond just caring about his brother, it was about potentially losing his second brother. “How old were they when—”

“Luke was thirteen or so,” Nico said with a blank face. “Jack turned sixteen a week after it happened.”

“Fuck,” you swore. 

“Yeah,” he flashed you a sad smile. “Fuck indeed.” 

You frowned. “They came to New Jersey alone?” 

“I remember the day I first met them so clearly,” Nico murmured, swallowing back the thickness in the back of his throat that made it hard to mutter out the words. “They were so young and hopeless and—” He paused for a moment. “I promised myself I would never let them feel like that again. I know what this world is like and I know it’s impossible to put that on myself but I never wanted to see them or any of the others look like that again. And that was exactly what I saw in Luke today.” 

“Nico,” you whispered softly.

“M’sorry,” he huffed out, tucking his head down as he let out a sad, pitiful laugh. “You just spent the last hour comforting Luke, you don’t need to do this again.” 

“You care about them so much,” you murmured as you tugged his head back, as his chin rested on your stomach as he looked up at you. “And you put so much pressure on yourself to be the one they can lean on. But you need someone who takes care of you too.”

“I like taking care of them,” he whispered, soft and honest. “I like taking care of you. The Devils are my family and it’s my job to look after them, to be the one they can always rely on.” 

“Let me be that to you,” you whispered back, your thumb lightly stroking against his cheek. “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

He leaned into your touch. “This is enough. This is all I need.” 

And it felt hard to ignore when he whispered those words to you. It felt hard to push down the feelings you had been having for the last few weeks, to ignore what you think you had known for a while but couldn’t quite admit to yourself. It felt hard to ignore the truth. 

You lowered your hands until both hands were cupping his face in your palms, your eyes meeting his warm gaze, your body trapped between his legs. It was close but not close enough and you never wanted to leave the twisted embrace. 

It took less than a second before you leaned down to press your lips against his. 

In an instant, Nico’s arms were winding around your thighs and tugging you closer. He kissed back like it was instinctive, like he had been waiting for the moment to approach. He kissed you like he loved you, in a way you had never experienced before. He kissed you like you had the rest of your life ahead of you to live off of these kisses. And you found that you really wanted that.

“I want to marry you,” you whispered, watching his expression change with the admission. “I don’t care about the wedding. I don’t care about finding the perfect venue or getting the most expensive flowers or any of it. I just want you. I just want to marry you.”

Your thumb pressed against the dip of his dimple as he smiled at you. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

His hands gripped your thighs, tightening his hold. “God, if I knew all it would take was one kiss, I would have made a move sooner.”

You snorted, trying to push him back but he just pulled you closer. “Shut up.” 

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up,” he added, but there was something affectionate in his voice.

“We may have been a little unconventional in the way we got here but I mean it,” you said, your palms still holding his face. “I want to marry you, Nico.”

“I can’t wait to marry you, baby.”

…

You weren’t shocked to find Luke already in the room, sitting by Jack’s bed where you had expected him to be since he woke up the following morning.

You were shocked to find that Jack was already awake.

If you were being completely honest, he didn’t look much better than when you last saw him, bleeding out on the dining table. But he was awake. His eyes were open, there was somehow still a smile on his face—even if it was a little tender—and he was talking, which was more than you were expecting to see. 

He had been the one to spot you by the door first, flashing you a somewhat sheepish smile as he nodded you to come in. 

“Found time in your schedule to see lil’ old me? I’m honoured.” 

You shook your head, though it was almost fond. “Good to see they didn’t break your sense of humour.”

“Gonna need to do more than almost kill me for that,” he joked, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised. 

Your eyes instantly snapped towards Luke. There was a mixed expression on his face, one you couldn’t quite figure out but it was giving you the same overbearing need to hold him in your arms like you had done the previous night. 

“Too soon,” Luke grumbled.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured, his eyes softening as he reached for his little brother, as he took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Like a reassurance that he was still there.

“Well, there will be no more attempts because Nico has put you on bedrest indefinitely,” you quickly chimed in, crossing the room to stand by where Luke sat. 

Jack’s jaw dropped. “What? No fucking way.” 

“Yes fucking way,” you snapped back, giving the boy a look. “You’re out, Hughes.”

“This is unfair,” Jack huffed, leaning back against his pillows and trying to hide his wince as he did so.

“It took us twenty minutes to get you to sit up,” Luke deadpanned. “For once in your life, listen to Nico.” 

“Whatever,” Jack huffed. “I get jumped out of nowhere and yet, I am punished for it.”

“Nico is already on it,” you told the boy. 

“If this is just going to be the same argument, I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Luke muttered as he stood up from his seat, wincing a little as he stretched his legs. “Do you want anything?” 

You shook your head. “I already grabbed something with Nico earlier.”

Luke shot you a curious look but didn’t say anything before he left the room. His brother, on the other hand, was less than subtle. In fact, he was just downright blunt. 

“Since when did you and Nico become so close?” Jack retorted, the pout long gone and replaced with a smile that oddly resembled the Cheshire Cat. “Anything you want to tell me?” 

“He’s my fiancé,” you retorted. “I am bound to be close to him, aren’t I?” 

“Oh, he so wore the white tank in front of you,” Jack snorted, only to wince a little afterwards. And yet, his injuries didn’t stop him from being a meddling gossip. “Did his plan to make you love him back finally work? Am I finally free from his two hour rants about which cufflinks you’d notice?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Rest, Jack.” There was a small pause before you continued. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

His face softened. “Thank you for looking after Luke for me.”

“Anytime,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. You hesitated for a moment before you reached out, squeezing his hand the way he had done with Luke earlier. “For both of you.” 

Jack didn’t say anything but he nodded like he understood and, for now, that was more than enough for you. 

…

It was the following Sunday when you received the call from Jacob Trouba.

It was ironic how much could change in a short space of time. Just a few months ago you were cursing his name for not reaching out after you stepped out of that meeting room, spent nights almost wishing he would finally reach out. The alliance was about bringing the Devils and Rangers together, and yet you just felt iced out from your previous life.

And now? 

Now, you were staring at his name on your phone screen and you felt…indifferent. The feelings of awe, admiration and respect you once held for the leader of the Rangers was now gone, replaced with a sort of irritance that left a crawling sensation under your skin. 

You waited three rings before you finally answered the call, lifting the phone to your ear with the oddest desire to hang up and end the call already. But you were curious and you knew he would never speak first.

“Calling on God’s day,” you mused. “This must be important.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice, Rogue.”

“Surprised you remember my name at all,” you snapped back, your fingers tracing over the spines of the books on Nico’s bookshelves. Despite the fact your room was now free, you had spent every day since in his room. You didn’t see that changing any time soon. 

“Don’t be like that.”

You knew he was goading for a reaction. You could imagine the scene so clearly with him sitting in his office, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk on his face. You almost rolled your eyes at the thought.

“Is there a reason you’ve phoned me?” You asked, straightforward and blunt. 

“Always so straight to the point. I’ve always liked that about you.” 

This time you did roll your eyes. “Jacob.” 

“Oh, c’mon, baby.” Your jaw clenched a little at the nickname, your stomach twisting in disgust at the word leaving anyone else’s mouth but Nico’s. “Don’t tell me you’ve become all stuck up and boring over there.”

“I thought I wasn’t your problem anymore,” you chimed, fingers fiddling with some random trinket as you spoke. 

“I’ll always care about you, Rogue.” 

“So you called to be sentimental?” You deadpanned. 

“I apologise for wanting to catch up with my best girl.” 

“Not your girl,” you gritted out. “Never have been, Trouba.”

“Oh, Trouba now? Guess Hischier has really gotten into that head of yours. It’s fine, you’ll snap out of it when you come back home.”

You froze, your brows furrowing together. “Excuse me?” 

“I am breaking the alliance. The deal is off the table. You’re coming back to New York.” 

You scoffed. “No, I’m not.” 

“I do not permit you to marry him anymore.” 

“I don’t give a fuck what you permit me to do,” you bit back, your irritance growing into something more angry. “You can’t just break the alliance, Jacob, you signed a contract. You both signed—”

“I don’t give two shits about the contract or the alliance or any of it. I expect you back in New York by Wednesday.” 

You laughed, dry and unamused and severely pissed off. “Jersey is my home now.” 

“So that’s it? After everything I do for you, and this is what I get in return?” 

“Oh, cry me a river,” you retorted. 

“Fine. Stay with the fucking rats.” 

“You’re the one breaking the alliance!” 

“And your future husband is the one that sent his pretty boy sniffing around my territory!” 

Your jaw clenched. “It was you who attacked Jack?” 

“Yes. A shame the bastard is alive. But that’s what I get for sending a couple of idiots to do the job.” 

“And you’re responsible for just Jack?” You questioned, something quite like dread and anticipation swirling in your stomach. 

“I look forward to seeing you crawling back to me, Rogue. I bet you look pretty on all fours.” 

The line went dead before he finished his sentence. 

…

The click of your heels were frantic as you approached Nico’s study. 

You hadn’t bothered knocking, pushing the door open with the words ready on the tip of your tongue, only to find a handful of people already in the room. You froze for a moment, taking in their various expressions of concern, annoyance and contemplation. Your shoulders practically sagged in relief when your gaze caught Nico’s.

“You already know.” 

He nodded in response. 

“How?” 

“The shredded alliance contract left burning at the front door was telling enough,” Nico answered with a frown. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. 

“He has someone working for him,” Nico continued. “Someone feeding him information. From Candy to the warehouses to Jack. Someone was telling him everything and we didn’t even fucking know.” 

“What?” You shook your head, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. You were in his circle for years, someone he trusted, someone he confided in. You would have known about a spy in one of the Rangers’ biggest enemy territories, especially long before he was contemplating the alliance. “No, that’s not possible. I don’t know how he—”

“Do you not?” Timo questioned. 

You blinked. “What?”

“Do you not know how?” Timo continued, something written across his expression that you couldn’t quite work out. “You’re close to Trouba, no? One of his lackeys?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you insinuating something?” 

“Does a duck quack?” He retorted.

“Enough,” Nico interrupted, his lips turned downwards. “We don’t know for sure who—”

“Jacob Trouba is practically flaunting around New York that he gutted Jack,” Jesper chimed in. “He has someone he trusts—someone we trust too—whispering in his ear.” 

“And you think it’s me?” You spluttered out, your shock clearly written across your face. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“I am just pointing out the facts,” Jesper responded.

“I wasn’t even here when half of the attacks happened,” you retorted. “I didn’t even know I was coming here until that day in the meeting room.”

“So you say,” Timo muttered, eyes narrowed. 

“I have spent every day for the last four months here,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. “What do you think I was doing? Sending carrier pigeons to Trouba?” 

“You have a phone,” Timo pointed out.

You let out a humourless laugh, throwing the phone towards the boy as he effortlessly caught it. “Check it if you’re so sure.”

“We are wasting time,” John spoke up, having stayed mostly silent as he stood by the desk, brooding as he usually did. “And arguing is getting us nowhere.” 

“Wherever he is leading you, it will be a trap,” you pointed out, ignoring the glares some of the boys were sending you and, instead, focusing on the one man you could rely on. “Nico, please. I know him. I know how his head works.” 

Nico’s jaw clenched, a pained look in his eyes that made your heart twist in discomfort. But it was his words that cut through you, leaving it a little harder to breathe as he spoke with a blank face.

“Maybe it’s best if you stay behind.”

“You think I’m the rat?” You whispered, your voice cracking despite your attempts to keep it even.

He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye after that.

…

“Not you too.” 

Luke didn’t say anything, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“Are you serious?”

Luke remained silent.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you muttered under your breath as you threw the book down on the bed beside you, a failed attempt to distract yourself from the sick feeling in your stomach when you thought about what Nico was going to walk in to. “They need the fucking babysitter! They are the ones walking straight into a trap!”

Luke still remained silent.

“Do not fucking do this now,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself to stand up, rounding the bed and walking towards the boy. You almost scoffed as he moved just as quick, stepping in front of the door, blocking your way out. “You don’t seriously believe I’m the rat?” 

“I am just following orders,” Luke stated.

“Luke,” you stood in front of him, your hands on your hips. “Do not fucking play with me right now. We spent every fucking waking moment together, do you really think I would do any of that?”

His eyes snapped down to you, a conflicted expression painted on his face. 

“Do you really think I would do that to Jack?” You continued, your voice a little softer and you watched as the boy swallowed harshly.

“No,” he rasped, his voice rough but honest. “But there is a rat. Someone did do that to Jack and I—”

“I know,” you murmured, winding your arms around his torso. It didn’t take much for the boy to return the hug, to find comfort in your embrace. “We will find them. I promise. And I will personally let you be the one to give them what they deserve. But we need to help the others first before Trouba gets to them.” 

“How can I help?” 

You pulled back, a somewhat sheepish expression on your face. “Depends. How well do your puppy dog eyes work on Jack?” 

…

“Absolutely not.”

“Jack—”

“Nuh uh. Not happening.” 

“Dude, come on—”

“It’s bad enough that I am stuck in this bed whilst everyone else gets to go have fun,” Jack huffed, though the pile of pillows surrounding him did little to help sell the angry expression on his face. “I am not giving you my baby on top of everything else.” 

You shot him a look. “You boys and your motor toys.”

Jack blanched. “She is not just a toy, she is—”

“A motorcycle,” Luke intercepted, shooting his brother an apologetic look.

His eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you just take one of the cars?” 

Your gaze wandered to the floor, slightly sheepish as you shrugged. “I can’t drive stick.” 

“Luke can.”

“Luke isn’t coming.”

“Wait, what?” Luke snapped his head around to look at you. “Yes, I am. You’re not going in alone.” 

“It is bad enough that the rest of them are already there,” you bit out. “I am not letting you risk yourself too. You saw what he did to Jack.”

“I was caught off guard,” Jack grumbled.

“I am going alone and I am not arguing about this,” you said, hands on your hips as you waited for the boy to do the exact opposite and start arguing with you. 

And just like clockwork, he did.

“How the hell am I supposed to help from here?” Luke questioned, a crease forming between his brows and the beginnings of the classic upset Hughes’ pout starting to show. “Jack is the injured one, I am completely fine!”

“Stop reminding me,” Jack sighed deeply.

“You can help from here,” you stated. 

Luke shot you a look. “How?” 

“I don’t care how you do it and I don’t care what lies you have to tell but get on that phone and get the others back as fast as you can,” you said, your face remaining serious. “Nico wouldn’t have taken them all. They are probably waiting somewhere as back up. Call them and get them back here. Lie, bribe, blackmail—do whatever.” 

Jack blinked. “You really think it’s that bad?” 

“I think killing them would be too easy for Trouba,” you said honestly. “I think there is a bigger picture we are not seeing and tonight is not the night to figure out what that is. At least not under Trouba’s discretion.” 

Luke stared at you for a few moments. “Fine. But stay safe or whatever.”

You smiled, playfully patting his cheek. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I can handle myself.”

…

“So, she was right.” 

Nico slowly turned his head to look at Timo who was on the chair next to him, his arms and legs tied tightly just like his were. He shot the other man a look, his face remaining blank and unimpressed. 

“Got yourself quite a wife there, Boss. Smart lady,” he continued, flashing Nico a slightly strained smile. 

“Your ability to act like we aren’t completely fucked is admirable,” Jonas deadpanned from his spot on the other side of Nico. “On the off chance we get out of here alive—”

“Which we probably won’t,” Timo supplied. 

“—Nico will kill you for that comment alone,” Jonas finished.

“I wouldn’t,” Nico spoke up. “I would let her.”

Jonas snorted. 

Timo nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“As endearing as this whole moment is,” another voice spoke up from the other side of the room. “You are really making me regret not bringing gags with me.” 

“Kinky,” Timo mused. 

Nico shot him another look. 

“My bad for trying to make our last moments enjoyable,” Timo huffed.

“Would be enjoyable if the ropes weren’t tied so badly,” Jonas grumbled. 

“God,” Jacob growled, pushing himself off the desk and walking towards where the three of them were currently stationed. “I don’t know how that little bitch could stand you for months. Thirty minutes and I don’t know if I want to put a bullet through your heads or mine.” 

Nico’s jaw clenched. “Watch your mouth.” 

“Aw, touched a nerve?” Jacob smiled as he closed the distance, crouching down a little so he was face to face with the Devils’ boss. “Possessive over your wannabe wife, Hischier?”

“Keep her out of this,” Nico growled, his teeth gritted. 

“Hm, it’s cute you think you have any power here,” Jacob commented, his next movement a flash of blurred colours. It wasn’t until the pain erupted in his nose and he could feel the blood starting to drip down his face that he realised Jacob had smacked him with the handle of his gun. “Don’t make me muzzle you like a fucking mutt.” 

“Bite me, Trouba,” Nico snapped back. 

“He might be into that,” Timo murmured.

“Dude,” Jonas hissed. 

Nico let out another groan, his head snapping to the side as Jacob pistol-whipped him once again. 

“Hey!” Timo exclaimed, the legs of his chair scuffling against the floor as he tried to fight against the restraints. 

“You were annoying me,” Jacob said with a shrug as he stood back up. “And his pretty face annoys me.” 

Nico lifted his head, spitting the blood pooling inside his mouth in Jacob’s direction before flashing him a smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

Jacob shot him a blank look. 

“My wife thinks I’m pretty too,” he continued, something almost sadistic written across his face. “Remind me, did she ever think you were pretty?” 

“I think,” Jacob began, the telltale click of the safety lock being removed echoing through the empty office space. “I’m sick and tired of having your lot become such a problem for me.” 

“Yeah, I could really tell from that alliance you signed,” Nico deadpanned. 

Jacob let out a dry laugh. “There is no honest man in this life, Hischier. You’re a naive bastard if you believe anyone other than yourself.” 

“He does know contracts are legally binding, right?” Timo muttered. 

“Yeah, because everything we do is so legal,” Jonas drawled, unamused.

“Why sign it?” Nico questioned, his eyes trained on the man in front of him. 

“It was fun messing with you,” Jacob said with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” Timo snorted. “You just laid back for four months for fun? Yeah, sure.” 

Nico glanced at his friend before returning his gaze to Jacob. He noted the way his jaw clenched, his eye twitching a little in frustration. He tried—and failed—not to take pleasure in the small signs of annoyance. 

“Because the plan didn’t work out the way you intended,” Nico guessed, and assuming from the small, irritated huff Jacob let out, he was right. “Because you had to hold back and work out some things but, like a petulant child, you ran out of patience. That’s why the attack on Jack was so messy. You threw caution out the window.”

“You seem far too interested in the fine details for a man in your position, Hischier,” Jacob grumbled. 

“Call it a dead man’s curiosity,” Nico retorted with a smile.

“Speaking of death,” Timo piped up. “You are keeping us alive for a surprisingly long time.” 

“Because he needs something from us,” Nico assumed.

“You think you’re so smart,” Jacob hissed. 

“Well, he knows how to tie a better knot,” Jonas grumbled under his breath.

Nico shot him a look, only for Jonas to shrug in response. 

“I’m just saying, you can tell he doesn’t do the dirty work.” Jonas added.

Jacob looked unimpressed. “I don’t typically lower myself to dirty work.”

“How noble,” Timo snorted.

“What are you waiting for?” Nico poked, his eyes narrowing a little with determination. “Why keep us alive? One bullet through my head and you would have everything you want. But you’re hesitating.” 

“You done with your conspiracies?” Jacob bit back.

“Whatever it is you want, you’re not going to get it,” Nico told him, so sure of himself. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Jacob responded.

Nico shrugged as best he could in his restraints. “I would.” 

…

As a Ranger, you were one of Jacob’s top enforcers. 

It was the unexpected factor that made you effective. The others were tall or buff or intimidating, but you were able to get away with a lot more—call it taking advantage of the inherent and ridiculous misogyny within the mob life. 

But your effectiveness and skill was the exact reason why Jacob Trouba trusted you, why he let you in on the private meetings, why he kept you so close within his circle. It was also one of the main reasons why the initial arranged marriage caught you off guard. 

You weren’t made for marriages of alliance, you were made for this.

The forty-eight floor office building in Lower Manhattan was an abandoned project that failed extensive safety acts but was too expensive for the city to knock down—in the books. Off the books, it was a grey area the police tended to look away from and not prod too much. It was the perfect place for someone like Trouba—who controlled the majority of the crime and underground businesses in New York, who didn’t like any more eyes on him than he allowed. 

It was a building you were familiar with, one you had spent many days and nights in for the years you stood in Trouba’s circle. You knew the ins and outs, the various corridors to sneak around and hide. You knew the exact rooms where the screams and pleas of a man would be deaf to the bustling city outside. You knew which floors were reserved for the kind of things people with weak stomachs tended to avoid. 

And, for the first time ever in your life, you stepped into the building with a sense of dread lingering over your head. 

Every time you had ever stepped into this building, you were indifferent. You were there to complete a job and you always did so. You never hesitated or second-guessed yourself. You went in, you did your job and you left. 

Because never once had there ever been the life of someone you cared about on the line—never once had you ever feared you wouldn’t be able to save someone’s life, rather than being the one to end it. 

And yet, the mere idea of walking into one of these rooms and finding out you were too late was eating you alive as you made your way in through the side entrance, trying not to take the lack of men stationed around the building as a sign that you weren’t fast enough. 

At least, it was eating you alive until you were distracted by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“You better have a good fucking reason to be calling me right now.” 

“First of all, that was rude. I am bed-ridden and lonely. You could at least say hi.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And second of all, I wanted to make sure my baby is okay.” 

“Your motorcycle is fine, Jack,” you deadpanned. 

“One scratch on her and we are going to have problems.”

“However will I escape your wrath when you are bound to your bed?” You questioned, the sarcasm dripping from your words as you made your way through the corridors—one hand holding your phone and the other clutching your gun. 

“That was also rude.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again. “Why did you call, Jack?” 

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.”

You paused for a moment, straightening your back. “Good news?”

“We got everyone back. Jesper is a little pissed. John is really pissed but that is on Luke for lying about—”

You quickly interrupted. “And the bad news?” 

“Timo and Jonas are with Nico, so you are now on a three man rescue mission—”

“Which would have been easier if you let me come,” Luke yelled from somewhere in the background.

“And he is waiting for someone. Supposedly. We are assuming whoever the rat is.” 

Your brows furrowed together. “How can you be so sure it’s them?” 

“According to the dude Kurtis bet up for some information, Trouba has been sending money to the rat for months. Today was meant to be the day they met, and supposedly Nico was the price they demanded.”

“He doesn't even know who his rat is?” You scoffed. “I’m assuming there’s no real name attached to the account.” 

“Unless you know a Barbra Parker who lives in Brooklyn and attends weekly zumba classes for senior citizens and sometimes attends church when she wants to gossip, then no. We have no name and no more clues towards whoever Trouba has been paying.” 

You let out a sigh. “Great.”

“On the bright side, Jesper did admit he was wrong for accusing you and I got the admission on video for you to blackmail him with.” 

You laughed a little. “Thanks, Jack.”

“We got your back, Rogue. You’re a Devil. But if Nico asks, this was totally my idea and he owes me dinner at that fancy steak place I got banned from three years ago.” 

This time you did roll your eyes before hanging up. 

…

Nico watched as Jacob Trouba paced the room, the nerves emitting from him like a bat signal for weakness as he kept glancing down at his watch. He had never seen such obvious and badly concealed emotions from a man like Trouba, it was almost off-putting to watch if he weren’t trying to work out the little puzzle in his head right now. 

Most of the pieces were there, but there was something glaringly obvious that Nico was missing and it was starting to irritate him.

“It’s actually quite sad to watch,” Timo commented. “He looks like a distressed polar bear.”

Jonas flashed him a confused look. “What?” 

“You know, those videos where the polar bear is in a zoo enclosure and gets really stressed and starts exhibiting weird behaviours?” Timo said, only to receive blank expressions in response. “What? I literally sent you the video a few weeks ago. Assholes.”

“You sent it to me when I was down in Philly,” Jonas retorted.

“Excuses,” Timo huffed. 

“We really need to discuss your hostage conversation topics when we are back,” Nico deadpanned. 

“Hard to have that discussion when you three will be dead in a few hours,” Jacob spoke up, turning to finally look at them for the first time in the last thirty minutes. 

“Seems like you’ve been stood up, Trouba,” Nico assumed, the amusement clear in his voice despite the fact he was the one who was restrained. “It happens to many men, you’re in good company, I’m sure.” 

Jacob clenched his jaw, rounding towards him. “You little—” 

“Watch how you talk about my husband, Trouba.” 

All four pairs of eyes snapped towards the entrance. 

You stood there, your hands holding onto your gun tightly and pointing it directly at your former boss—your former friend—with your finger on the trigger. It was an odd feeling, one you had never really experienced before. Because as much as you wanted to tell yourself you felt indifferent towards Jacob—that maybe even a part of you despised him for the way he treated you over the last four months—there was a louder, more vocal voice in your head reminding you just who he was to you. 

Just who he used to be to you. 

And it was so fucking disorienting. 

Something quite like surprise and elation crossed Jacob’s face. “Rogue.”

“Drop the gun,” you nodded towards the gun in his hand. “Right now.” 

He smiled, his head tilting a little. “You know I’m not going to do that. And I know why you’re really here, you can drop the act.” 

Your eyes narrowed. 

“Not quite on your knees,” he continued, his grin growing when Nico let out a string of curses. “But I knew you’d come back to me.” 

“Your ego is truly astounding,” you mused, your eyes glued on Trouba. You couldn’t look towards Nico. Not right yet. Not until you had dealt with the man in front of you. “Almost as pathetic as your mind games.” 

Jacob cocked an eyebrow. 

“I mean, of all the people to choose as your rat,” you continued, watching as his face dropped a little as the lie passed your lips. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Jacob huffed out a laugh, dry and a bit tense. “Rogue—”

“Meanwhile, you don’t even know who your rat is,” you added.

His jaw clenched a little. “I do.”

“Do you?” You questioned.

“You were always the smartest one in my ranks,” Jacob mused.

“And yet, you sent me away,” you finished for him. 

“But you came back,” Jacob grinned, as though he had planned this all along, as though he was the mastermind. “Like I always knew you would.” 

“And you need your ears checked because I think I have made myself very clear where I stand,” you gritted out. 

“Don’t tell me you have gone soft for him?” Jacob scoffed,  looking at you in a mix of disbelief and amusement. But when your gun remained pointed at him, he only laughed. “Yeah? You expect me to believe you’re going to do it? Fine then.” 

You watched as his gun moved away from Nico, watched as the barrel of the gun was pointed towards you instead. Something prickled under your skin, your hair standing on the nape of your neck. You have watched that gun in his hands kill so many people and now it was directed at you. 

It felt so wrong and, yet, you didn’t lower your weapon either.

“Is this what you wanted? Some noble showdown to prove yourself to them?” Jacob goaded. “They will never trust you. You will never be one of them, no matter who you marry or who’s dick you suck. You will always be an outsider. You will always be a Ranger.”

Your jaw twitched. “I stopped being a Ranger the second you sold me off like fucking cattle.”

“Rogue, baby, you never stopped as long as I say you haven’t,” Jacob smiled, all-knowing and smug. “Now, put the gun down. The game was cute but it’s getting a bit dull now. You’ve put on your little show, you’ve made your point. It won’t happen again. Scout’s promise.”

You stared at the man for a few moments, stared at the person you once knew so well. “You know the difference between me and you?” 

He raised his brows. “What?”

“You’re far too sentimental over shit that doesn’t ultimately matter anymore,” you said, your finger pressing down on the trigger before you even finished your sentence. 

Jacob let out a pained exclamation, his body falling towards the floor as his hand instantly went to the bullet wound now oozing blood from his thigh. His grip on his gun was still firm but before he could even raise it, you shot him once more on the opposite shoulder, letting his cries of pain bounce through the room. 

“Take this as my one and only mercy, Trouba, for the man you once were to me,” you spoke, blunt and indifferent as you approached the man. Your foot was pining his wrist down, letting you throw his gun towards the other side of the room before you turned back to him. “Next time you even touch a hair on my family’s head, I’ll put a bullet through yours. Remember that.” 

Jacob didn’t even get a chance to reply to your threat before you slammed the handle of your gun against his temple, knocking him out cold as he laid motionless on the ground. 

“Fuck, that was hot.” 

Your head snapped around, finally settling on the three men tied to the chairs in front of you. You took a quick glance over Jonas and Timo, happy to see a limited amount of blood on them before your eyes finally stopped on Nico. It was almost embarrassing the way relief drowned you at the sight of him smiling at you. 

“Fucking hell,” you murmured out, your body moving on autopilot as you stumbled towards him. You took his face in your hands, unbothered about the blood drying on his face as you leaned your forehead against his. “I fucking told you I was right.” 

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, baby, you did. Should listen to you more often.” 

You smiled a little. “You have time to learn.” 

“All the time in the world, Rogue,” he confirmed, his nose nudging against yours. 

“This is really cute and that was really badass but could you two please stop so she can untie us and we can go home?” Timo spoke up. 

“Please, it’s insulting having these terribly tied knots holding us down,” Jonas added.

You laughed, pulling away to look at the other two with a fond smile. “Yeah, let’s go home.” 

…

“You know, I am pretty sure it’s considered rude to sneak away from the party when the party is for us.” 

“I don’t see you trying very hard to go back to the party.” 

“Well,” Nico said with a heavy sigh, trying to bite back his smile as he let you pull him towards the counter you were currently sitting on. “I am a weak man when it comes to the whims of my beautiful, cunning, scheming wife—” 

You snorted, your arms wrapping around his neck as he stood between your legs. “So dramatic.”

“You still married me though,” Nico grinned, his hands on your thighs as he shamelessly played with the edge of the little white dress you put on for the occasion. “You’re stuck with me, baby. I’m all yours.” 

“What a tragic life sentence,” you mused, your eyes softening a little as you leaned in to press a quick kiss against his lips. “What have I got myself into?” 

“Hm, let’s see,” he started, puffing his cheeks a little before he let out a sigh. “We are basically at war with the Rangers and all their allies, there’s an unknown rat in our ranks that knows we are on their tail and one of my best men is still out of service until further notice. Add in the fact that we have a handful of rocky aliases to strengthen across the country, especially the west coast, and you have a pretty big fucking mess you’re walking into.”

“But it’s something we will solve together,” you said in a determined voice, your hands moving to cup his face so you could stare into his eyes. “Me and you. In sickness and in health and in huge fucking messes.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t remember that in the wedding vows.”

You shrugged. “I’m paraphrasing.” 

He laughed softly as he fisted the material of your skirt in his hands. “There is no one else I would rather have standing by my side, Mrs Hischier.” 

“Good,” you huffed, lifting your chin a little as the mischief shone in your eyes. “Because in the wise words of a smart man I know, you’re stuck with me, baby. I’m all yours.” 

His grin widened. “And that is more than enough for me.” 

Your smile pressed against his as he leaned in to kiss you again, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you sunk into the embrace. The music thumping through the speakers could still be heard, even so far from the actual party, but in the arms of your husband is exactly where you wanted—no, needed—to be. 

You huffed out a small laugh, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to bat his wandering hands away as he squeezed your thighs before tugging you closer to the edge of the counter. You pulled back a little, taking in his flushed cheeks and shining eyes and felt something quite like fondness explode in your chest. 

“I am so in love with you, Nico Hischier,” you whispered, like a soft confession shared just between the two of you. 

“I’m glad you’ve finally caught up, baby,” he whispered back. “It’s about time people know.” 

“Know what?”

But his grin only widened, the love and adoration he held for you so clearly written across his face as he cupped your face in his hands. “That my girl is a Devil, through and through.” 

And as you stared back at him with a similar expression on your face, there were a few things you knew for certain: Nico Hishcier was the leader of the New Jersey Devils, he was a kind and fair man despite the world you lived in, and that you were truly and utterly in love with him.

And you knew that you would stand by his side whatever the world threw at the two of you. 

For better or for worse. 

Until death do you part. 

.

[polarisjisung]

BEST THING I NEVER HAD

synopsis: the line between giving up and seeing how much more you can take had always been blurry, tonight it seems nonexistent

wc: 3.1k

pairings: jaemin × fem!reader

genre: angst, hearbreak

warnings: mentions of violence, jaemin's injured, use of petnames, jaemin's oblivious and annoying, jaemin sucks, basically a situationship, slight gaslighting

notes: HAPPY JAEMIN DAY, i have a love hate relationship with this work (I suppose you could say its bittersweet 🤭) anyways here's part one! pls notice the beyoncé inspired title

Despite its softness, you can't help but jump at the sound of knocking against your front door.

just loud enough that you'd hear, but quiet enough that your parents wouldn't. It was a specific pattern of 5 knocks, delivered through the knuckles of an index and middle finger, in true jaemin fashion.

You wonder if its healthy, to be able to recognise the hooded silhouette that stands outside your door, to know someone from nothing but the tapping of their knuckles against a slab of wood, to know exactly the state you'll find him in if you swing the door open like you usually would.

It isn't, you suppose. but healthy had never been the word to describe you and jaemin. not the ungodly dessert bowls you made as midnight snacks together, not the lounging around all day doing nothing and certainly not the cycle of longing you found yourself in.

Time and time again you found yourself tearing yourself apart for him, for his love, and each time it would end with you slowly putting those broken pieces, shreds, of yourself back together, alone and all by yourself.

Though you're not sure you did ever recover fully, like a piece of your heart was lost every time jaemin turned his back to leave and never come back.

Like the tiny fragments of a broken glass, the ones you could never quite see as you sweeped up a mess of shattered glass and would find yourself stepping all over days later.

But he did come back. You suppose that was the problem, he came back every time.

Jaemin had this perfect ability of keeping you on edge, never pushing you far enough to leave, never pushing himself far enough to stay. It was the way he did most things, showing up at your door at a time you weren't sure was morning or night, coming back just before you'd manage to convince yourself he wouldn't, leaving just before your hope that he'd stay would come true. jaemin took this middle path in life that lead to the worst of both worlds, best of none. and it left you unsatisfied every time

Regardless, you'd been craving, almost desperate for his presence, anticipation bubbling in your chest every night since the last you'd seen him, in hopes you'd find a wounded jaemin helplessly stood at your doorstep with sparkly eyes and a smile that told you it would all be alright. it seemed that was the only way you saw him anyways, the way you hated most, injured that is.

So you'd prayed day and night, clasped your hands together and had gotten down on your knees and begged that he'd stay true to his word, that he wouldn't leave and that this wouldn't happen— yet here you were.

You haven't seen jaemin in weeks, but you still remember it all the same, the spark of glee that would ignite within you whenever you heard him at your door.

Tonight his presence makes your chest tighten and your mouth dry up— you feel the way your breaths force themselves through the confines of your throat, almost choking you.

The feeling is foreign and a sharp contrast to the way your cheeks would flush over and your heart would once race at the thought of jaemin.

Tonight you stray far from that love struck awe, eyes clenched so hard you were beginning to see colour. there's a growing lump in your throat that doesn't seem as negligible as before, with each shortened intake of breath it doubles maybe even triples in size— your vision, in spite of your shut eyes, blurrs into an abyss of absolute nothingness

And despite the thick wooden door that separates you, tonight na jaemin's presence feels suffocating.

You're not sure you'd describe it as love, certainly it wasn't that warm feeling of butterflies in your stomach and giddiness you knew before, like you were star struck, instead it was this feverish conjugation that made your hands clammy and your ears ring. Like the butterflies now had broken wings. You felt ill.

It had always been that way, only your heart would wrench after jaemin left and never while he stood expectant on your front porch. You suppose when he leaves for so long and stays for so little, your heart doesn't bother to acknowledge his visits anymore, like some form of a self-defense mechanism that protects you against yourself. because you never really could protect yourself against him

Suddenly, the difference being lovestruck and lovesick had never been clearer.

It had been three months.

A whole three months since you'd last seen him and tonight, tonight was the night he came back— unannounced, unexpected, and finally, finally, after days and weeks of convincing yourself, unwanted.

You know better than to let him in, not just into your home, but into your heart. And if you had learnt anything in your lifetime of knowing na jaemin, it was that those two were absolutely synonymous

Your heart that had only just now begun to learn that it could survive without him, thrive without him in fact.

You know that this is it, tonight would make it or break it— either way you know it would break you.

In the long run, it's not hard to figure out what you should do but you're a creature of habit, compelled by nothing more than muscle memory and indecision.

Your shaking hands reach for the door and begin turning the lock faster than you can convince yourself against the idea.

sure enough there he is, not an inch of skin that isn't painted in the cold shades of purple and blue yet hes staring up at you with so much warmth.

"How do you always get yourself like this, how do you get worse everytime" your words came as whisper.

You're not sure if your words hold the alternate meaning you hope they do, but as you take in the image of jaemin in front of you, you swear he's almost unrecognisable, so far beyond bruised that you wonder if you should be so cruel as to slam the door in his face.

He shrugs in response to your question, the cold breeze that brushes past the two of you biting at your skin, the thin material of your pyjama shorts doing little to nothing to keep your warm.

You're not supposed to let him in, but surely, you could always find a way to push him out, right?

There's some sort of a cheeky grin on his lips as you step aside to let him in, perhaps if he knew this was the last time he'd be stepping through the double doors of your home he would've worn an expression a lot different— you hoped he would at least.

But you know better than to occupy yourself in thoughts of what ifs.

Jaemin makes a beeline for the couch, as you do for the first aid kit that rests atop the kitchen cupboards, wordlessly.

Though the silence is nothing new, jaemin doesn't feel the welcoming atmosphere around him as he steps further into your home, in fact he feels nothing at all.

He looks over at you.

It's not tiredness that sits atop your features, the details of your pretty face all committed to his memory, yet the slight furrow of your brows and the way your lips pinch into a tight line aren't familiar to jaemin at all. There's something he can't quite put his finger on that sends him into a frenzy of panic and worry

"Hey doll?" you hum in response "are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" you chuckle wryly, "shouldn't I be asking you that jaemin?"

"Touche" you assume he lets it go, but jaemin doesnt know how, pushing a little further

"You just seem a little, off?"

After all, limits weren't something jaemin recognised well

You hate that he can't recognise the plain, simple and painfully obvious look of disappointment that's written all over your face either

Regardless you don't worry enough about his words to credit him with a response, rubbing the antiseptic roughly into his skin before reaching for the tube and letting it fall into the empty trash can, the thud as it hit the bottom filling you with ease.

You hate waste just as much as the next person, but wasting a little medicine was fine, just as long as you didn't waste anymore time on him.

Jaemin's brows knit together in a tight knot, watching you make your way back towards him with full consciousness, though there's something about the way you walk, trudge even, maybe its the way your feet drag across the carpet or the way your steps seem smaller, less eager, that has his heart sinking a little

"Doll, I'm not sure you meant to put that there" he says, attempting to brush a stray hair from your face, though you turn your head before he gets the chance

"Hmm?" your eyes trail over to the bin "oh, I just thought if I'm never going to use it again, there's no point keeping it around" you shrug

But you always kept it around, you kept it for him— remember he was allergic to the regular stuff.

What did you mean you'd never use it again?

Jaemin licks his lips, letting a soft sigh escape them as he watches you hurriedly place band aids over his cuts

"What's got you like this?" he says, you play innocent, shooting a look of confusion his way— jaemin doesn't expand, you don't answer

The room is cold, or at least it feels that way, despite the fire that's burning just a few feet away from him. The chill of silence is overwhelming, and the warmth you'd once emit in your words, in your actions, in your gaze, they're all missing.

"Did I do something wrong?" he whispers, innocent beady eyes forced into your face as he holds you close, not letting you slip through his hands— ironically you're already too far out of reach

All it takes is for you to bite at the left corner of your bottom lip for jaemin to know you're deep in thought

You wonder if he's just playing oblivious or if jaemin really and truly thinks that his little back and forth games don't have any consequences.

Either way, you shake your head at him— it wasn't all his fault.

Really you had no one to blame except yourself, you should've known better than to be so vulnerable to the likes of him.

You know better than to tell him what's wroong. You know that you can't risk receiving an apology from him, because if he made even the slightest inclination to sorriness, you'd accept it.

That's how you loved him. How much you loved him.

At one point you swore you'd let him drag you down to hell if it meant you could hold his hand on the way down— you're not sure the life you're living is much different though

You're not entirely sure you wouldn't let him drag you down now either, but the lack of certainty is the only push you need to know that this time, it's your turn to be selfish.

"All done," you whisper, his wounds quickly tended to with little precision and perhaps even less care, absentmindedly wrapped in a loose gauze.

This time, jaemin catches onto the ulterior meaning of your words, watching the way you head towards the staircase.

"Doll, talk to me what's wrong?" it's that tone laced with all forms of concern and worry that has the tears welling in your eyes

If jaemin hadn't reached out for your wrist and stopped you, you'd have made your way back up to your room without another word

But he does, he does stop you and it stops you from walking away

"I don't think I can" you say and all jaemin can do is tug at your wrist to finally get you to face him, a dull expression on your face. Every feature he knows and loves and remembers contorted into a look of nothingness.

"Y/n, please"

"Just go jaemin, you know the way out" you sigh, your speech is tired and lacks energy, a deep reflection of your soul and how you felt about the routine the two of you had established. If only Jaemin could see that.

"I can't just go when you're so clearly upset" he says— oh, but he can

You knew that better than anyone else.

"You let yourself believe that"

The words come as a whisper, like you almost hope he doesn't hear them, fast off the tongue but meant with true intent

And to jaemin they tasted bitter, superficial, like you didn't speak with your heart, but your mind, the sweetness he knew of your speech so severely lacking.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're so oblivious to how—" for a moment you're ready to tell jaemin all there is to know about the two of you, but you know its no use, jaemin would feed you the sweetest lies and you'd mistake them as the truest of promises.

"Actually you know what never mind what I mean, just go jaemin" you sigh, raking your fingers through your hair

You take his silence as reason to continue, maybe because talking is the only thing you know will keep the tears in your eyes from falling or maybe it's the look in his eyes that urges you to continue

"We're stuck in this never-ending loop, can't you see that?" the control you had over the volume of your voice diminishes with each word, but you're not sure you care, "just stop jaemin"

"Stop what?"

"Coming back" you suck in a harsh breath "just leave like you always do but this time, don't come back, please please please don't come back" you hate the way your voice cracks and your speech almost falters, burning your throat.

"I'll do whatever you say doll, just tell me what this is about and I prom—"

You cut him off before he can let the word fall from his lips, eyes widened before being clenched shut in the span of a few seconds

"Don't promise jaemin, you never stick to them" you sigh again "just go"

"You know I can't"

"you do it every time, what makes this time so different?" your tone is sour and jaemin knows better than to dispute your words, harsh but so painfully true

"You're upset" he tries, but it doesn't seem enough when you scoff right in his face and the feeling that follows only makes you hope you'd done this all so much earlier.

"Yeah? well that's nothing new, just walk out the door and break my heart like you always do— I'm begging" you shut your eyes, a harsh deep breath taken in before you continue "I need time to heal, you never give me time to heal, so I'm begging you this time, just don't come back"

"Break your heart?" the words echo from his tongue in fragments, like he's still piecing together your sentences to make sense of them. Jaemins eyes are soft and glossy as he looks up at you a couple steps away

"yeah"

"But I love you doll, I only come back because I love you" that's something you wish jaemin could've said sooner, maybe it would've meant something then.

It's a lie, you know it is, you're sure it is and despite all the lies he tells you, you'd never wished more than this for his words to be true.

"Then stop" you say, trying to shoot off up the stairs but jaemin's fingers remain wrapped aorund your wrist, grip firm and unwavering

"So what? you're just going to throw it all away? all this time we've known each other, all the memories, you're just going to pretend it doesn't exist?" he finally argued back, mouth slightly ajar as his breaths grew deeper "like we don't exist?"

"We don't jaemin, reality is that you're not mine and I'm not yours as much as I let myself be— you and I we just don't work" you wonder if he's even listening when he turns his head, scoffing to the floor with a tongue running across his inner cheek "we're not good for each oth--"

"How can you know that when we've never even tried" his voice is loud, the loudest you've ever heard, a deep booming from the pit of his stomach that has you reeling back, gulping as he cuts you off

"I don't know about you jaemin but I tried jaemin, I did but now I'm tired"

"How can you be tired of us?" his voice shakes, he seems feeble despite what he was just a few moments ago— you realise it's one of jaemin's best tactics, making you pity him when it's the last thing you should be doing.

Somehow despite how aware you are of it now, your heart still wrenches at the thought of upsetting him.

"it's not us" you defend, knowing full well that that's exactly what it was " I just, I don't deserve this jaemin, I don't deserve someone who keeps coming back" the glossiness of his eyes grows further " I deserve someone who never leaves"

"Then why are you telling me to go?" his eyes are telling, red and his heart, even if just for a moment rests on his sleeve.

"Because I know you, you're not capable of staying. You can't" his grip loosens, he takes a step back and though he argues again, you know this is it.

"I can. I will. I'd do anything for you" he says, and you swear your gulp is audible, you almost hear it echo through the room. Your stomach churns. You feel the way your insides tip upside down and back over again at the site of jaemin's furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, those pouty lips that you once loved bruised and trembling. His gaze though fixated on you is aloof, like he's not present at all. Suddenly it all feels too real. The way he pulls back, the spark in his eyes dimming and the confidence in his stance diminishing. Jaemin was giving up. But he wasn't giving up without a fight.

"You would?" you don't know why you ask, but jaemin nods anyway, and perhaps it soothes your broken heart ever so slightly to live in the blissful ignorance of thinking that his words were true. That he meant what he said.

To think that he ever loved you, even if for just a fraction of a moment, gives you reason to believe that this had all been worth it.

But you know better than to let a moments love turn into a lifetime's regret.

"Yeah" jaemin's words escape him in a sharp breath.

He finds himself holding onto the last thread of hope in your eyes that tells him that you feel the same. He holds your stare in his own for a while and though it was not warm, and it certainly was not kind— it was loving. And love was all jaemin had ever known from you.

"Then go" You say, and despite the various other words resting at the tip of your tongue, it's all you say.

Jaemin is left to do nothing but watch. You had taught him love, and now you had let him go.

The front door slams shut before you reach the top of the stairs, and it finally hits you that this is it.

Jaemin was gone, and just like you asked, he never came back.

permanent taglist : @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @nanawrlds

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Brumes behind the cut; "interdimensional whoring for Timkon". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim’s other self bares his teeth; bites the back of his glove and digs his fingers into Kon’s shoulder again. Kon digs his fingers into his ass again and lifts him just enough to take him off his feet and really put all the other’s weight all behind his hips. Tim’s other self curses. He tries to brace himself with the hand on Kon’s shoulder, and Kon grinds his chest up against his cock, and also keeps working his mouth and throat just as determinedly around Tim’s cock. Doesn’t half-ass his attempts at learning how to suck him off or even slow down or do a single thing that’d make it any easier for him to get Tim to outlast his other self. 

Noticing that makes it very hard for Tim to outlast his other self. 

Though of course Kon would do that, because when did Kon ever half-ass anything he’s asked him to do since they got over their initial friction? 

“Jesus Christ,” Tim’s other self gasps, and Tim shoves his cock fully down Kon’s throat again, and Kon purrs around it. “Jesus Christ!” 

The purring vibrates through Kon’s chest the same way it does his throat, Tim knows very intimately. 

“Aw, there’s our cute little boytoy,” he hums lowly as he tightens his fingers under Kon’s jaw, and doesn’t even sound like he’s gotten hit in the gut with an I-beam. 

Two-by-four at worst. 

“You really need to shut the fuck up,” his other self grits out, and sounds like he's gotten hit in the gut with an H-beam. 

“When do we ever?” Tim asks him wryly, curling his fingers under Kon's jaw. “It's sweet of you to let us come on your tits, baby. Especially when you're all dressed up.” 

“Ngh,” Tim's other self chokes, so maybe he was a little too distracted to register what the obvious result of coming on Kon's chest while he's suited up would be until just now. “You–you're such a–” 

“Yeah, most people think we are,” Tim replies, still wry, and rubs his fingers down the length of Kon's throat. Kon swallows much more roughly underneath them. 

So cute. 

So yeah, he should definitely be a little merciless with himself, he thinks. Just give Kon a little bit of support, that’s all, because Kon has very obviously earned it. 

Well, when doesn’t he, really? 

“I’m going to fucking kick you through that portal in the morning,” his other self snaps breathlessly, his voice rough and half-shredded and face all flushed and just barely sweating. Honestly, Tim was probably even more flustered the first time he fucked Kon, but in his case his Kon had been the one who’d been coming onto him and there hadn’t been an alternate reality spotter who already knew everything they were both into, so really, he thinks his other self should be a little more grateful right now? At least for politeness’s sake, if nothing else. 

“Well, that’ll be in the morning,” Tim replies mildly, curling his fingers in lightly just under Kon’s jaw, and his other self glares at him, and Kon swallows tighter around his cock and grinds his chest up even more eagerly against his other self’s as he kneads the other’s ass in his hands. Tim’s other self curses sharply and grabs the underside of Kon’s jaw too, digging his splayed fingers into the bone where there’s so little give as to be basically nonexistent and in against Kon’s lower lip, which is nothing but give. 

Tim’s other self curses again, and Kon slides his tongue out past Tim’s cock just enough to lick the tips of his dug-in fingers. 

Tim’s other self curses. 

“You never half-ass anything, do you, sweetheart,” Tim says fondly. “You want our come on your shield that bad? Would that make you happy? Make you really feel ‘Super’ for a while?” 

Kon lets out a moan of a purr that rumbles like a damn engine, his whole throat and whole ribcage vibrating with it. Tim only doesn’t immediately come because he knew to expect the reaction and was already braced for both the sensation and the intensity of it. Or, more specifically, because he’s used to it. 

His other self, obviously, is not. 

“Fuck!” Tim’s other self gasps as his whole body seizes up, his cock spilling wet, messy stripes across Kon’s big broad engine of a chest and S, and Kon makes that one brainless, blissed-out sound that Tim will never get sick of hearing and croons adoringly around his cock, and also drools all over it. 

Tim sighs in soft, affectionate approval and buries his cock all the way back down his throat. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, because that’ll make Kon purr again, and the moment the other does, Tim comes himself without even having to try. Kon keeps purring for him through his whole orgasm, because he’s just the sweetest like that. 

Coming in Kon’s mouth really is one of his favorite things, Tim reflects contentedly as he catches his breath in careful, measured inhalations and finally pulls back from the other. Kon whines in disappointment the moment he's not gagging on a dick anymore, and Tim’s other self makes a strangled noise about it and manages half a step back, but nothing else. Tim’s frankly impressed he even managed that, because he knows exactly how hard it is to even shift back from Kon when he’s like this. 

Though in this case, it does give them both a very nice view of his chest. The El crest is stretched as tight as it can go across Kon’s pecs, especially with his body bent backwards like this, and looks as good as it always does with a fresh comeshot smeared across it. 

Tim smiles down at Kon as he strips off his condom to toss out and tucks his cock away again, then trails his fingers along the drooling mess of the other’s well-fucked mouth. Kon gasps for air he doesn’t really need, his chest still rising and falling in erratic little stutters, and drunkenly leans back into the contact without even trying to talk, his spine bending back just a little farther and messed-up mouth reflexively opening farther itself under the light little brush of Tim’s trailing fingers. His eyes are half-open and completely glazed over, and he looks dazed and out of it and more fucked-up than any baseline human should ever be able to get anyone with even the slightest bit of Kryptonian DNA in them. 

Same as always, really. 

Tim’s smile widens. Kon just gets so sweet for a good dicking, every time. 

Then he lifts his head and smiles at his other self instead, pleasant and merciless, and mentions: “If you wanted to be the one to give him his kiss, I personally always think he's the sweetest about it after he's just had his mouth fucked.” 

His other self makes a choked sound. Kon lets out a whimper, tiny and breathless, and his head does the exact same reflexive please kiss me tilt that Tim’s own Kon’s always does, even with his spine bent backwards and his head hanging back on his neck like this. 

His other self makes another choked sound, but it’s not even fully out of his throat before he’s grabbing Kon’s face to yank up and lunging down towards him in turn. 

And then Tim’s other self actually does something that surprises him a little, because then the other–stops, just for a second, and stares down at Kon’s glazed eyes and flushed face and dazed and overwhelmed expression and the spit-soaked mess of his mouth, and then just–cups his face instead of gripping it–cups it very gently, in fact–and kisses him very, very softly. 

And even more surprisingly, Kon actually lets him. 

Huh, Tim thinks, just barely tilting his head. That’s different. 

Well . . . it is still an alternate reality, really. 

His other self kisses Kon long and slow and soft and lingering, very clearly taking the time to both savor it and to make sure Kon gets to savor it, and Kon kisses back all clumsy and messy and just a little bit out of sync, like he’s not really processing what the other’s mouth is doing ‘til a few moments after he does it. Tim’s felt Kon kiss like that before, but only seen it as an outsider observer a handful of times. 

It took a lot more and a lot longer to get him here those times, though, even the times with Bart or Cassie or even both of them involved. So–it’s different, yeah. 

Definitely not a difference that Tim’s complaining about, though it’s kind of a funny one to get from the repressed reality, all things considered. 

He pets Kon’s hair, for a little while. It makes Kon purr again, though this time the sound of it comes out stilted and breathy, and cracks around the scattered little whimpers that the kissing’s drawing out of him. Tim can feel Kon shuddering; can feel his TTK field shuddering, even, which is a very difficult sensation to describe but always an interesting one. 

He can feel Kon trembling, too.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Isle of the Lost headcanon: we know that healthcare there was basically nonexistent, with no medical professionals or institutions, but what if Yzma appointed herself the resident catch-all ‘doctor’? She is not a real doctor, of course. But she is a wildly anachronistic mad scientist with a penchant for lab coats, chemistry and hurting children. She wants power. And now she has a whole island of kids to play with experiment on treat!

“I’ll just give you a pill, a harmless little pill, and then I’ll put you inside of a scanner, and then I’ll put you in another scanner, and then we’ll do a quick blood test, and when the results are in… I’ll STAB YOU WITH A SCALPEL!”

Just. Can you imagine? The poor kids.

Kronk: Your doctor was Yzma? The Yzma who raised Kuzco, the Yzma who then tried to kill Kuzco without a shred of remorse, my ex-boss Yzma? That Yzma?

VK: Yes. That Yzma.

Kronk: Wow, that must have been rough. I’m so sorry. Do you want to join me and Emperor Kuzco’s Yzma Survivor Support Group?

Kuzco, from the other room: KRONK WHAT ARE YOU TELLING THEM

Kronk: Nothing you should be ashamed of, your majesty! Your mental health is as important as your physical health and I’m proud of you for taking care of it!

No matter what exactly happened on the Isle, it must have been quite the shock for the VKs to experience proper healthcare in Auradon.

[mycatisatool]

People you want to get to know better

i've been tagged in this by the lovely @valentinaonthemoon (i think you might've tagged me in one of these 1000 years ago. i'm so sorry if you did - it clearly escaped me) thank you!! <3

last song: NISSAN ALTIMA by doechii (bangerrrr)

favourite colour: emerald green. i may be basic but i have good taste

last film / show: Ancient Apocolypse (again) cause an archaeologist i like on youtube has a series tearing it to shreds so ofc i gotta study the material before i watch it

sweet / savoury / spicy: spicyyyy - my sweet tooth is nonexistent and savoury food makes me sad :(

last thing i googled: book publishing agents! theyre all in london though and i am decidedly Not

last book: i literally just finished The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern last night and frankly im going a little feral over it

relationship status: lmao

current obsession(s): ..... my own ocs. BUT in my defence, in line with my last google search, i am tryna make my ocs everyone else's problem and i can only do that by being the ultimate blorbo lover. that and terraria. i am playing that game so much atm and i do not know why

tagging: @celeluwhenfics @18nth @surplus-of-sarcasm (as always, no pressure!)

thanks again for tagging me! always love reading these from everyone :D

[transhuman-priestess]

i am interested to hear about your complete and unfiltered opinions about fallout 3, after all the recent fallout posting here. go all out and tear Todd to shreds.

Bethesda just doesn't understand what makes fallout work. It's not retro-futurism, big band music, and atompunk. The NCR (for all its flaws, i'm not defending it) is a vibrant and thriving society in Fallout 2, the world has moved on from the old world.

Meanwhile, in Maryland, people have forgotten such inventions as "a broom" and "structural engineering" for 200 years. This would be forgivable if the gameplay or the story were interesting, but the gameplay is meh and the story is nonexistent. Ah, but it's an RPG so at least there's sidequests, right?

All of this is true of fallout 4 except for the gameplay, which isn't exactly improved, but there's more stuff to do and some of it is pretty fun. The settlement mechanic is something i could do all on its own, and some of the DLC content is actually pretty compelling. Far Harbor is a genuinely good story, and Nuka-World is just...fun!

Idk FO3 is just, a whole lot of basically nothing.

[cervidaewasteland]

Interpersonal I: Meet-Cute

No longer a danger to herself or others_Sylvie POV

Taylor York x f!OC

A/N: posting some college au to hold my adoring fans over until Monday! in actuality, i'm really becoming passionate about this project again and I want to work on it, so i'll probably be posting about it a lot

Summary: After enduring a rough breakup, Sylvie isn't very keen on branching out again and trying to make friends. An unexpected meeting might just change her mind.

Warnings: this series may contain discussions/depictions of abuse, sexual assault, violence, PTSD, panic attacks, and other mental health issues

Word Count: 4,118

Part One, Part Two

11/1/24 4:36 PM

November. I hate November. It gets so cold. I really need to get a thicker jacket, but I don’t want to ask my mom for more money. She’s already paying for my tuition and my dorm fees. I should call her. 

“Sylvie!”

I jumped, looking up from the journal in my lap. Hayley was staring at me, clearly annoyed by… something. I wasn’t quite sure. I was quiet for a moment, setting my journal aside and putting the lid back on my pen, but even then I couldn’t figure out what she could be upset about.

”Yes?”

”Are you even ready? We have to leave, like, twenty minutes ago.”

Oh. Right. The party. 

“Uhm- yeah, no. Yeah. I’m ready. Just let me…” I trailed off, turning to check my appearance in the mirror that hung on the wall next to my loft bed. Not great, but then again I wasn’t trying to draw attention to myself. “One second.” I reached for my bag, unzipping the largest pocket and pulling out my eyeliner. I leaned closer to the mirror, half-heartedly smudging a good amount around my eyes before shoving it back in my bag, running a hand through my silvery blue hair, and jumping down off my bed. 

“Are you sure you even want me to come?” I asked as I pulled my shoes on—an old, yellowed pair of white Converse that used to belong to my mother. The laces were red instead of white, they’d had to be replaced a few years ago when they got snagged in my bike gear and shredded. “I mean, I don’t know anyone. I feel like you’re just gonna be babysitting me. I don’t want to keep you from having fun or anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I want you to come, really.” She smiled at me as I stood up—it was a look I knew well. the one she gave me when she was trying to keep me from feeling like a burden. I sighed, nodding and reaching up to grab my bag from my bed. 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

“Don’t forget this.” Hayley picked my jacket up from the floor and handed it to me. 

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

“You sure you don’t want your gloves? Scarf maybe?” She asked me as I pulled it on, zipping up the front. “The walk isn’t that long, but I know you get cold.”

“No, I’ll probably be fine.”

“Alrighty then. Come on.” She reached down to grab my hand as we stepped out of our dorm, tugging me down the hall behind her as she made her way to the building exit. 

We were on our way to a party that was being thrown at Zac Farro’s house. Him and a couple other guys lived together on campus, and I could swear there was a party there every week. I usually refused when Hayley invited me along, but this time she had basically forced me to. She was worried about my nonexistent social life, I guessed. It really wasn’t that bad. I had just gone through a terrible break up and would rather stay in our dorm and study than get drunk around a bunch of people I didn’t know. 

Hayley seemed to notice my discomfort, pulling me closer to her as we walked. I was already shivering. I had an incredibly low tolerance to the cold, I always had. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” I responded in an attempt to brush off her concerns. Hayley and I had been friends since freshman year of college, and after sharing a dorm together she had basically picked up on every single body language quirk I had. It was no use trying to lie to her, but I did anyway. Maybe she would realize I didn’t want to talk about it and leave me alone. 

“Okay.” She nodded, looking ahead. We were coming up on what I assumed to be Zac’s house. It was just about as basic as the rest of the on campus housing, but there were Christmas lights decorating the bare oak tree in the front lawn. Two cars were parked in the driveway—an old, blue pickup truck, and a tiny beige Subaru. Hayley led me up the front steps and knocked twice on the door. I could hear the muffled noises of the TV from inside the house, followed by the familiar sound of Zac’s footsteps. The door opened soon after. 

“Hey! I was wondering when you two would be here. We were just about to start getting set up and everything.” Just as he was about to welcome us both in, the roar of a motorcycle engine echoed across the campus. I jumped, turning around just  in time to see the bike pulling into the driveway, parking behind the Subaru and stopping. The deafening noise of the engine quickly stopped, and Hayley let out a scoff. 

“Where was he?” She directed her question at Zac. I watched as the boy got off the bike and pulled his helmet off, revealing a head of messy brown curls. Something about him made my cheeks flush, and I was glad they were already red from the cold. 

“I think he said he had to run to the store or something,” Zac responded. He nudged me with his elbow. “Hey, has Sylvie met Taylor yet?” Hayley shook her head. She grabbed my wrist, which tore my attention away from watching the boy as he rummaged through the saddlebag on his bike. 

“That’s Taylor,” she explained. “You guys will get along, I promise. He’s great. I think you’ll like him.” She smirked at me. “Or, maybe you already do, who knows.”

“Hayley, stop,” I said through my teeth. Taylor came up the steps then, his gaze lingering on me momentarily before he pushed past Zac and went inside. Even though we’d only made eye contact for about half a second, it had filled my stomach with butterflies. Horrible, annoying butterflies that I wished would die. 

“Well, we should probably get the chips out at least. It’s already five.” Zac stepped aside to let us both inside, and I followed Hayley after him. I could better hear the TV now that we were inside—there was some sort of sports game playing. I had never been too interested in sports, so I couldn’t tell from the commentary alone which one it was. Zac led us to the sitting area, where two other guys I didn’t know were sitting. One of them was focused on the TV, and the other was glaring at Hayley as soon as she was in his line of sight. 

“Hi, Josh,” Hayley grumbled to him, sitting on the couch across the room from the chair where he was sitting.

“Shut up,” he spat back, getting up and walking to the kitchen. Hayley rolled her eyes, dragging me down with her onto the couch. The cushions were soft, making it easy for me to sink into them, pressing my body against Hayley’s in an attempt to make myself as small as possible. 

“Ignore him. He’s in a mood or something.” The other boy leaned over to hand Hayley a beer, which she graciously accepted. He then turned to me. “I’m Jeremy, by the way. You’re Sylvie, right?”

I stared at him for a moment, a little surprised that he was talking directly to me. “Uhm- yeah. That’s me.” I nodded awkwardly, face flushed. Hayley choked out a laugh, setting her drink on the coffee table. 

“You should take your jacket off, dude. Seriously.”

“What?” I looked over to her. “Why? It’s cold in here.”

“It’s like seventy degrees. plus, you’re wearing long sleeves.” I shook my head. 

“I’m cold, Hayley. I’m keeping it on-” I felt the couch dip beside me, and I turned to see Taylor settling himself next to me. My cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and I quickly looked away, staring instead at my shoes. Suddenly, I wasn’t cold anymore. Hayley noticed my flustered state, laughing again and elbowing me in the side. 

“What?”

“Nothing!”

Taylor looked over at the both of us, a slightly confused expression on his face. It only furthered my embarrassment. I shut my mouth, folding my hands in my lap and fully intending on not saying another word for the rest of the night. Hayley stopped making fun of me then, enthralling herself in a very thrilling conversation about football with Jeremy that I paid no attention to. I unzipped my bag, pulling out my earbuds and sticking them in my ears. I scrolled through my phone for a minute before finding something to listen to, and when I glanced back up to the TV I got the feeling someone was watching me. I made the decision not to check, though, instead keeping my gaze fixed on the coffee table. 

After about an hour and a half of enduring awkward conversation with Hayley’s friends, people started showing up, freeing me from the discomfort of the living room. As the house grew more crowded and music began echoing off the walls, I made my way to the kitchen, maneuvering around groups of people to pour myself a drink. I stayed there for a little while, making my way through a few cups of spiked punch and mostly going unnoticed by the rest of the people there. Hayley had disappeared, which left me to try to navigate the party by myself for the most part. 

“You okay?” 

I jumped slightly at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, looking up from the floor to meet Taylor's eyes. My cheeks flushed, and my hands began to shake. I nodded awkwardly, setting my half empty cup on the kitchen island. “You’ve been in here on your own for a while now. Where’s Hayley?”

I shrugged, scanning the room for a moment before looking back to him. “I don’t know. She ran off like, an hour ago.” Taylor nodded, taking a step closer to me—presumably to be heard better over the music and laughter. 

“We could go hang out in the back, if you want. It’s quieter.”

I thought for a moment, considering his offer. I barely knew him—in fact, this was the first time we’d had a real conversation—but I was desperate for an escape from the crowded social environment of the party. So I nodded, and he led me to the back yard. I shivered as the cold night air hit my face, sitting next to Taylor on the porch steps. 

“Are you cold?” He didn’t wait for a response before wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. I noticed then just how warm he was. Like, unusually warm. It was almost enough to balance out the iciness in my skin. Usually, I wouldn’t be so keen on letting someone I barely knew touch me, but something about Taylor made me want to trust him. 

“Yeah. I’m always cold.” I let out a shaky laugh, breath fogging up in front of my face. Hesitantly, I laid my head down on his shoulder, trying to soak up more of his warmth. He seemed to notice, letting out a chuckle and holding me tighter against him. 

“I can see that.” He hummed, rubbing my shoulder in an attempt to warm me up. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Hm?” My eyes had fallen shut, and it took me a moment to register his question. “Uhm, five or six I think.”

“That’s quite a bit.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I don’t drink very much.”

“Maybe I should take you home.”

“It’s okay.” My response surprised even me. I didn’t want to go yet. I wanted to stay exactly where I was. Maybe forever. Or maybe that was the alcohol talking. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“You don’t, huh?” 

I shook my head, not offering much more of a response. We both stayed like that for a little while, enjoying the comfortable silence. 

The back door opened a few minutes later, and Hayley stepped outside, sitting next to me. “Found you.” She nudges me with her arm. “Are you two just planning on hiding out here all night?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled back, pulling away from Taylor slightly. Hayley noticed the gesture, a smirk breaking across her face. 

“Oh, I see. Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She giggled, standing back up and ruffling my hair. “I’m gonna head home, okay? I’m sure Taylor wouldn’t mind if you spent the night.”

She walked back inside, leaving Taylor and I once again to sit in the quiet. I felt myself drift off a couple times, and at some point Taylor must have noticed. He pulled away from me slightly, which caused me to let out a whine. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I need to get you home before you pass out.” He kept his hand on my shoulder to keep me from falling over. 

“I don’t want to go home. Can’t I stay here?” He bit the inside of his cheek, quiet for a moment. 

“I- I guess you could, if you wanted to. Come on, everyone’s mostly gone home. Can you walk?” When he didn’t get any response, he stood up, leaning down to scoop me up into his arms. In any other situation, if I weren’t as exhausted, I would have started having a fit. My cheeks flushed, but I was too tired to offer much of a response, burying my face against his shoulder as he carried me back into the house and down the hall to his bedroom. 

He laid me down gently on the bed, helping me out of a few layers of clothes and under the blankets. He stepped away for a moment, rummaging through his dresser and pulling out an old flannel and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Here,” he helped me sit back up. “Let’s get you out of these tights and into something more comfortable. Is that okay?” He studied my face, trying to make sure I was comfortable. I nodded slightly, eyes still mostly closed, and helped me out of my shirt and tights, lifting my hips up slightly as he slid the sweatpants up my legs. He paused then, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “Uhm… I know some girls hate sleeping with a bra on, I’m not sure if-”

“I can do it,” I murmured, blinking my eyes open just enough to take the flannel from him. He nodded, face flushed, and turned around to give me privacy while I took my bra off and pulled the flannel over my head. “Okay,” I mumbled after I was redressed, “You can look now.”

I heard his footsteps across the carpet as I sunk back under the covers, and soon after, the door clicked shut. For a few minutes, I assumed that he had gone to sleep on the couch or something, but then he returned, sitting on the edge of the mattress with a warm washcloth in hand. He brushed my hair away from my face, palm lingering on my cheek for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away again. 

“I’m just gonna try to get some of your makeup off, okay? I heard it’s not good to sleep in it.” I hummed, not offering much more of a response, and he nodded, leaning over slightly. He gently worked the washcloth over my eyelids and cheeks, quickly ridding my face of any remnants of the makeup I had put on hours before. By the time he was finished, I was on the verge of falling asleep. I felt him start to get up, and I reached out to grab his hand. 

“Stay? I don’t want to get cold.” He hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh, nodding and setting the washcloth on the nightstand before climbing into bed beside me. He stayed on top of the covers, kicking his shoes off and wrapping an arm around my waist. 

“Better?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” I whispered back, settling back against him. The buzzing in my mind seemed to subside in the closeness, allowing me to relax just enough to finally drift off to sleep. 

A couple hours later, I woke up, head pounding insistently. I let out a groan of discomfort, trying to sit up but quickly realizing that Taylor’s arms were still wrapped tightly around my waist, keeping me from moving. He was a lot stronger than I’d realized at first. He stirred slightly as I tried to get up, eyes fluttering open. 

“Mmh. Sylvie? Are you okay?” He murmured, loosening his hold on me slightly. I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to soothe the pain. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Headache.”

“Hm. I’ll get you some water. I think we have Advil, too. One second.” He pulled away completely, slipping off the bed and padding across the carpet to the door. I immediately missed his warmth, shivering slightly. Luckily, he returned soon after, a glass of water and bottle of painkillers in hand. Due to how shaky and tired I still was, he helped me with the pills, supporting me as I washed them down with water. 

“Better?” He took the glass from me, setting it gently on the nightstand and laying me back down onto the pillows. He pulled the blankets up over my shoulders, tucking me in tight before wrapping his arms back around me. I nodded, letting my eyes fall shut as I quickly fell back into a dreamless sleep. 

The next morning, I was rudely awoken by a harsh knock at the bedroom door. My eyes snapped open, body jolting slightly in response to the noise. Taylor let out a groan, burying his face into my back, clearly intending to ignore it. The knocking continued. 

“What?” He finally called across the room, voice slightly muffled against my back. 

“Breakfast, Taylor,” Zac’s voice came in response. “It’s almost ten.” 

Taylor let out a groan, not yet pulling away from me. “Fine. Coming.” His arms—still wrapped around my waist—squeezed me lightly before he sat up. He studied my face for a moment. “Did you sleep okay?”

I sat up, stretching my arms above my head and letting out a yawn. “Yeah. My head doesn’t hurt as bad.” He smiled at me, and it made my chest feel tight. 

“That’s good. You can stay for breakfast if you want, or I can take you home. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” There was this hopeful sparkle in his eyes, like he was just barely keeping himself from asking me to stay longer. 

“I’ll stay,’ I say after a moment, and he smiles wider.

“Cool.”

After we ate, Taylor had walked me home—he had lended me a bag to take my clothes and stuff home, but he hadn’t asked me to give him his clothes back. Hayley was in bed when I got back to our dorm, face down in the pillows, back rising and falling just slightly with each breath. 

I set my bag down on the ground and pulled myself up onto my bed, sinking into the blankets and closing my eyes. Sunlight was peeking through the blinds on the window, casting the room in a soft golden glow. I let out a heavy sigh, pulling the blankets up over my body and relaxing into the mattress. 

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remembered was hayley shaking me awake, perched on the edge of my mattress. I let out a groan, pulling the blankets over my face and rolling over. 

“Sylvie, I need to talk to you.”

“About what?’ I grumbled, still covering my face. My headache had returned, a steady throbbing in the side of my skull. 

“About last night! How was it?”

“What?” I pulled the blankets down, peeking at her. “How was what? The party? It was fine.”

She hit me playfully in the arm. “Quit playing coy! You spent the night with Taylor.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Syllvie, really. You can’t look at me and tell me you didn’t have sex with him.” My face burned red, and I sat up, bedding pooling around my waist. 

“Hayley! Don’t be gross. We didn’t. I was like, so drunk.” Hayley rolled her eyes, clearly not believing me. “I’m serious!”

“You’re wearing his clothes.” She poked my arm. 

“He didn't want me to sleep in my clothes, so he lent them to me.”

“Did you sleep in his bed?”

“Yes. We were both fully dressed, though.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” She sighs, scooting up on the mattress and leaning against the wall. “Keep your secrets.”

“I’m not- whatever, Hayley.”

She moved to lay against me, her hand reaching for mine. “Was he sweet, at least?” I giggled, nodding. 

“Yeah. He was really sweet.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know, Hayley. I just met him.”

“You totally like him, don’t you.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Maybe a little.”

“I knew it!” she sat up, smirking at me. “You’re totally crushing.”

“Okay, okay, chill. I just think he’s cute, that’s all.”

“He is.” She leans back against me. “You should’ve seen him when we were in middle school. He was adorable. His hair was all poofy and long.” She dug in her pocket for a moment, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her photos before landing on one. It was of her, Taylor, and Zac when they were younger. “We were like thirteen in this. Look at T, hiding in the corner. He always did that. I don’t think he likes having his picture taken.” 

“Aw.” I leaned over to get a better look at the photo. “How adorable.”

“He used to be so awkward. I mean, he still is, but he hides it better.”

“I think he’s charming.”

Hayley rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.” She turned her phone off, tossing it onto the mattress. 

We spent the rest of the day lounging around our dorm room, both of us recovering from hangovers and trying not to throw up. At around five, just as I was about to take my seventh nap of the day, my phone buzzed. It was a text from a number I didn’t recognize. 

???: Hey, it’s Taylor, Hayley gave me your number. You left your jacket at my house, should I bring it to you?

I study the message for a moment, taking note of his impeccable grammar and punctuation. I realized then that he hadn’t had anything to drink the night before. Must be some kind of nerd or something. 

S: oh, hai! ya, that wuld be great, thx ^^

Hayley looked up at me from her bed, noticing the giddy grin on my face. “What? Did your boyfriend text you?”

“Hayley!” I quickly turned my phone off. “He’s not my boyfriend. I barely know him.”

“Right, sure. Whatever you say.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching over to grab my laptop from the end of my bed. I tried to distract myself with the creative writing assignment that I was supposed to finish by Tuesday, but I was too distracted with the notion of Taylor coming over. To bring me my jacket. Because I forgot it that morning. 

What a gentleman. 

A knock at the door caused me to jump, tearing myself out of my thoughts and hopping off my bed to answer it. Taylor was standing nervously in the doorway, my jacket tucked under his arm. He met my eyes, and for a moment we were both quiet, faces flushed. 

“Uhm- here.” He handed my jacket to me, our hands brushing together. The brief contact sent electric shocks down my spine. “You’ll probably need it. You know, because-”

“I get cold. Yeah.” I smiled at him, hoping he didn’t notice how nervous I was. Hoping he couldn’t hear the way my heart was all but beating its way out of my chest. “Thank you, Taylor.”

I watched his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, his hands fidgeting idly at his sides while he tried to maintain eye contact. “Yeah, uhm, of course. Any time.”

He gave me an awkward wave as he walked away, and I lingered in the open doorway for a moment, watching after him. I wasn’t quite sure why, but something about him was so undeniably attractive. Like there was some sort of magnet drawing me to him. I shook my head, shutting the door and tossing my jacket on top of the bag he had lent me that morning. 

I decided it would be best not to risk it. Surely this was just a crush—a fleeting feeling that would consume me for a little while but ultimately fade in time.

requests r open ! Masterlist

[queen-scribbles]

🍒 you know I love to enable you, plz gush about m&m 😛

Claire, I love you, thank you for enabling me <3

I think the bedrock of their friendship is the fact they both have a) a borderline nonexistent tolerance for bullshit, and b) a very high appreciation for the quiet. What really makes it flourish, and what the two them would probably point to as the reason they're friends, is that Mason doesn't coddle and Mallory doesn't ask to be.

Right from the start, no matter how nicely(or bluntly) they phrase it, the rest of the team is trying to protect her. Keeping her in the dark about Murphy, trying to keep her out of fighting, they're coddling her (is how she sees it). Doesn't matter that, y'know, supernaturals ARE way more powerful than humans and that they're doing it for good reason. Mallory's been underestimated her entire life for a variety of reasons and there's only so often you can hear variations of "not doubting your skills BUT sit this one out" before all you hear is the second part. Nothing hits her buttons faster than people(or vampires) thinking she can't handle something. So Mason being all "okay, fine, you wanna be part of this world? I'm not gonna lie to make you feel better, I'm not gonna hold back in combat training, I'm not gonna pretend you can do anything you can't, but you have our backs and I'll have yours" was bigtime friendship points from Mallory. She can do that, ofc she'll have their backs. And Mallory being so stubbornly determined to keep up, to throw herself at everything, to (more than) pull her weight as part of the team got her bigtime Mason friend points.

They also both enjoy a good fight, so having him help with sparring/combat training is a good--but very dangerous--call. xD She will run herself ragged trying to beat him, even if she knows, technically, for now, she can't. (She may desperately want a no-holds-barred sparring match with Adam when/if she goes vampire, but the same with Mason isn't far behind. would be hilarious if she can beat Adam but can't beat Mason bc Adam gets *cough* distracted😂) Mason doesn't pull his punches, verbally or physically, but also knows when to stop her so she doesn't hurt herself. (See Late Night Worry) I'm really sad that since she's romancing Adam I didn't get to see her and Mason teamed up for the Trapper fight in book 2 ngl. (Might be one of my favorite things about the Natemance AU for her; she got to kick ass with her bff. Not the actual romance or anything. She gets more Mason time in the AU bc of how Mishka splits up Bravo. 🤣🤣)

SPEAKING OF ROMANCE. Mason basically telling Adam "If you break her heart by being an idiot/ass I'm gonna take her side, you know that, right?" and Adam's response being "As you should" was PERFECTION. They've platonically bonded so hard he'd side with her over Adam, his friend/commanding officer for something like a century after less than a year. Truly peak brotp. I am fully prepared for Mallory to want to rip whoever's responsible for Mason's, uh. Mirror Backstory Stuff to absolute ribbons, even if she didn't see the mirror vision. Just SHRED them. Nothing left. (she might even be more vicious about it than Kasey? Just bc she's always 110% ready to throw hands--esp for people she cares about--and combat is a v low stat for Kasey xD)

And then you flip it in the Natemance AU and Mallory's the one dragging her feet and doing stupid shit like not admit she loves him even after she figures it out(Bobby was charming too. Doesn't matter that Nate's way sweeter and keep his promises, there's part off her that's terrified of getting hurt again), Mason calls her out on that. It may involve threatening to beat some sense into her and he's only half-joking. Hearing him be so no-nonsense about how dumb she's acting is part of her push to actually confess at the end of book 3 (Nate saving her from Anwir also killed any lingering doubts pretty dead).

My absolute favorite things about them, though, is they are 100% Grade A platonic love. Way back when I first thought about the Wayhaven RO Swap(best. decision. ever), I thought about just putting each of them with their respective bff(Kasey/Adam LMAO. The sarcasm would kill people. I might still try that ngl). Mallory/Mason is what killed that idea. They DO NOT work romantically. There's no romantic or sexual tension between them, which is impressive with Mason involved. xD Like, he'll definitely enjoy the view if she's in a crop top + leggings for training, and she is not immune to Arms™ if he's shirtless, but it's more... admiration/appreciation than attraction. They're just platonic soulmates and I love them so much.

[dangermousie]

I find Chun'er such a fascinating character because at this point, her inability to see Yan Xun's loathing of her is deliberate blindness. He has, with the last shred of kindness remaining in him, warned her at the start of his house arrest. But she has ignored it utterly - her world has overall been sunshine and fun and anything that does not fit that image she ignores as if she can will it into sunshine and fun.

Her utterly ignoring their current status difference (she's a royal princess, he's the prisoner of the throne, barely allowed to keep his life) - and said status difference can get him killed AND ignoring what happened to him as if it never did (he saw the heads of his entire family in boxes as part of a public spectacle where his torment was the entertainment event of the social season! he got tortured and mutilated! he was almost killed repeatedly! he saw his mother die in front of him!) and that it was on the orders of her father is sheer INSANITY.

The way she keeps insisting he uses her name, and not just any name, but a sort of pet name, as if they are still from friendly families, as if he's still the baby of the Northern Yan ruling clan is delusional in honestly a cruel way because he's not subtle about the loathing he feels about any connection with anyone in her family but she is not really capable of processing any worldview but her own, even such an obvious one (the man whose whole beloved family your father murdered isn't gonna want to pal around with you especially since you have no issue with daddy) - this is, in a way, a logical extension of her being supposedly kind and sunshine and stepping on the slaves' backs or paling around with aristos who hunt people for sport.

When she asked him why he didn't attend her party, full of his torturers/his family's murderers, I sort of bluescreened.

This is AMAZING in a horrifying way. And she doesn't get that all of this makes him loathe her more because it is such an insult to his grief and trauma and loss, her treating it as nonexistent but also a reminder that he's a pet kept on sufferance, and he has to perform fancy tricks to stay alive, he can't even show what he feels.

I mean are you insane, woman?

My God. Gee, I wonder what is different. The very fact that she doesn't even acknowledge the difference between now and then shows why he just feels so much loathing.

I mean, this is him after she leaves, ordering the clothes she touched burned.

PS This is her reaction to the present he gives her which is the taxidermied tail of her rabbit (that her mom killed, long story.) And the fact that she views the live rabbit and the dead rabbit memento as basically the same thing sums up everything about her character. They are all toys, not really real.

[tfc-gal-pal]

Tbh I know gay Eddie is the most popular headcanon but I think objectively he would be bisexual. Whether one wants to believe he was in love with Shannon or not (and I think the show wants us to believe it), he had a lot of sex with her and it was never implied he didn't enjoy it. A lot of people seem to either have convinced themselves that the Shannon plot didn't happen or that it doesn't count anymore since it was so long ago. That's not how sexuality works tho. So yeah, I wouldn't say we have all come to the same conclusion here.

Thank you for the ask!

That’s totally valid and that makes sense with what the writers have given us since we first met Shannon. She has been the only solid love interest. And yes, you are right, he did seem to enjoy hooking up with her. Based on this, I think there is a solid claim for him being bisexual.

As for him being not into women at all, the main argument I’ve seen has been his seeming disinterest in the women he’s dated. (except Shannon). I speculated somewhere else that it’s possible he formed a strong friendship with Shannon that he mistook for romance, but this doesn’t explain his physical attraction towards her. As you said, sexuality includes physical attraction.

There is, of course, the possibility Eddie is straight, but I dont think he is and i am extremely hopeful that the showrunners aren’t going to make him “come out” as straight.

As for the post i made asking when we’d decided Eddie was gay and not bi, the only posts i have seen have been saying he’s gay since i started actively following the 911 tag here about 2 weeks ago. It was a lighthearted way of basically asking how did the majority of people come to this conclusion im curious. i personally don’t have a strong feelings on it, my opinion is that he’s definitely queer and might go as far as to call him gay (as in a guy who likes guys but not necessarily restricted to them, i am bi also call myself gay sometimes, idk if anyone else does this) but beyond that idk.

Regardless, sexuality is very nuanced and every person has their own unique experience with it. I’m not sure how Eddie would choose to identify or if the show is even going to attach a label to him. I hope however they do (or don’t) label him, people don’t start tearing each other and the actors to shreds.

I hope this makes sense? Again thank you for the ask! This was fun to analyze. I’m really excited we’re getting to see these stories play out and to have the possibility of confirmed queer Eddie on screen, something that I think many of us can agree was almost nonexistent under Fox.

If anyone made it to the end of my jumbled thoughts, thank you, i would love to hear yours in the comments or asks. i know a lot of people have really strong feelings about Buddie and 911 in general and while tumblr isn’t the shitshow that is currently twitter, this is my first time wading into waters like these and i am scared so please be nice even if you disagree :)

[castielmoriarty]

one of my favourite tropes/things ever is when two characters want each other so much but one of them don't want to want the other, but their self-control around that person is so nonexistent that when they approach, all they can do is weakly go "please don't" or some version of it because they know that if the other one comes too close the tiny shred of self-control they have will go. basically "if he comes too close he jams the signals between my brain cells."

[pixeljade]

I love how basically NONE of the Straw Hats have actual full families

Like. All of them are either full orphans (Robin, Zoro, Jinbe, and in Nami's case, orphaned TWICE), or what parents they have are either absent (Franky, Luffy, Usopp), or abusive (Sanji). Then you have Chopper who wasnt even a human with a traditional upbringing, but was raised to some degree by a mad doctor, Brooke, whose family origins are unknown but his entire crew (AND HIM) died. (Side note: i kinda hope someday we get more of Brook's backstory. Its not enough for me to wait for the reunion with Laboon!)

Point is, none of them had good normal families, which not only serves to explain each of their particular brands of scrappy, but ALSO illustrates how utterly FUCKED the world they live in is! Sights of normal, happy nuclear families are borderline nonexistent. The few that seem to care about them are the Celestial Dragons who are huge pieces of shit. The families which exist in one piece are almost entirely found families, and they are treated as important to each and every major character who has even a shred of decency.

Idk. I love one piece so much i would absolutely join Luffy's crew in a heartbeat

[qyburnsghost]

Everything that’s in the book is opposite for Ryan and Sarah

Alicent loves her kids til it drives her insane? Show!alicent sacrifices them for a nonexistent friendship

Alicent and rhaenyra hate each other? Show!version picks each other over anyone

Aegon loves his brother to the point he throws him a party for killing Luke while everyone else calls him a dumb ass?has statues dedicated to him. Show!Aegon bullies him his whole life.

Daemon loves Laena and mourns her by staying with her dead body for a long time? Show!daemon settles for her and makes her know it, laughs and fucks at her funeral.

Daemon loves daughters? Show!Daemon ignores them even when they cry for support and after getting their ass whipped by aemond

Daemon takes harrenhall easily and is explicitly unmoved by Alys charms if he ever meets her at all? Show!daemon struggles thru harrenhall and spends weeks halluncinating thru Alys

Rhaena is well liked and congenial whenever she goes and uses soft power to excel? Show!Rhaena is desperate for a dragon, is ignored, isolated and bitter.

Helaena is happy, loved and loves to fly her dragon? She’s aloof, never flies her dragon and is almost ripped to shreds by small folk.

Helaena loves her kids to the point of madness? Show!Helaena barely mourns her son cause strangers lose their kids too.

Basically what ever is in the book, they do the opposite. Why even pick the book if you will just be contrarian. I’m tell you if they had to do a story about Santa Claus, they would write him as the Easter bunny instead.

does no one know rhaena just left? how long has she been out there without food and water? oomf told me rhaena was dotted on and celebrated at the vale in the book, with new lavish dresses and trying new divine cuisines. what was the point of having rhaena feeling alienated and lonely as jeyne’s ward? what’s the point of erasing nettles while simultaneously getting rid of rhaena’s arc? mind you, ryan and co adding fanfiction backstory to characters like hugh is fine, but following the canon book arcs is optional? will morning make an appearance atp? did we even see rhaena mourn her grandmother dying? god, rhaena’s just been suffering y’all 😕

[s0urw00lf]

Protectors - Derek hale x reader story

This is an introduction to my xreader for Derek bc people don’t appreciate him enough

Part 2

To say I’m new to beacon hills madness would be a lie, saying the people I’ve encountered along the way were insane wouldn’t exactly be a lie. Well one specifically person, Derek hale. But let’s not skip that far ahead yet. I’ve been dealing with the supernatural mess of beacon hills since the mere age of 13. Alone at first, I came to beacon hills after my parents were taken one day while I was at school. I haven’t seen them since but I had felt attracted to beacon hills, so I came to live with my uncle deaton. Along the way I met Derek in high school freshman year. He was my absolute best friend and I was totally 100% in love with him. But he liked Paige. Hell I liked Paige, she was hard not to like but under the influence of Peter hale she was lead to her death. I was his shoulder to cry on, and the person he called at 2 a.m. when he couldn’t sleep because of the memory that replayed in his head like a scene from a movie. I hated seeing him crying over her but I couldn’t blame him. I just wished he hadn’t been so oblivious to my feelings. After he happened to run into Kate argent that’s when our friendship took a turn. He stopped hanging out with me, then talking, and then I was practically invisible to him. His mom would invite me over for dinner seeing as my uncle was always working at the vet and so busy with supernatural crap he was barely ever home. That was until the hales were killed in the fire. That tore me to shreds. I was in school when it happened. When I found out I left everything and ran straight to Derek’s. I didn’t stop, even with the tears blurring my eyes and falling down my cheeks. When I reached the house it was black and burned. Barley standing. It completely shattered my heart when I found out the love of my life and basically my mother had died. I even cried for Peter. Since then I’ve grown into my abilities which includes “witchy” elements and somehow shifting into a 5 foot tall wolf. I know how crazy it sounds hell I can barley even wrap my head around it. But apparently I’m a descendant of the quileute tribe who happen to be shapeshifters and witches so I guess I got the not so best of both worlds. It happened not to soon after the fire. I guess that’s what else set it off, that’s what Uncle Sam said. Anyways, ever since then I’ve been a protector of beacon hills.

A protector is a title given to a very select few. When the universe knows someone will need it. When given the title they are given a list of names, and it will be Their job to protect them until not needed anymore. When a protector is ranked up they are able to grow into their full power. Only a small, almost nonexistent number of people ever reach that potential.

[winns-stuff]

Happy Holidays!

Saw your latest post and couldn't agree more. I first saw those panels of Ares chasing and tackling Persephone without context. He looked so menacing that I thought he became an antagonist, might as well since RS made him into such a creep, for a brief moment he was even more terrifying than Kronos. Also the attempted seduction after his reveal was so gross and tone deaf, considering the fact that Persephone still hadn't processed her trauma, or if it happened the reader didn't see it, we're meant to take Apollo's behavior as reprehensible yet Ares being a sleeze is comedic😬?

Thank you, I’ve been saying this forever! There’s such a weird double standard with certain characters which is so weird to me. No one treats Ares tricking Persephone into kissing him seriously even when she was still a minor and he was basically an adult, it’s just very very creepy how they met and I don’t know why but Rachel thought it was a good idea to make a whole joke about it. The first time we ever saw Ares he was crossing boundaries with Persephone and physically touching her while also giving her no personal space even though she was uncomfortable. I know he just wanted to make her upset but the story treats it as such a small thing and brushes off their whole interaction, just for Hades to show up and “save her” which was stupid because he also physically touched Persephone as well.

This is why a lot of people believe that what happened to Persephone in the story was only really made to push Hades and Persephone together more. Here we have multiple guys touching her all without her consent and there’s not even a shred of any sort of traumatic response or anything. She’s irritated yes, and angry about it but it’s all made out to be a joke you can tell because of those stupid fucking faces that she does. It all seems like weird playful banter even though Persephone obviously doesn’t look or feel comfortable with any of it. But then once again after that stressful experience she’s scooped up in the hands of Hades, and he immediately crosses into her personal space. This is like days after what happened to her everyone! Lore Olympus’s timeline is so incredibly short and it only feels long because every single episode is dragged out and full of flashbacks for no reason or real purpose.

Persephone was basically made for men it seems. She needs men to confide in, she tells men everything, she’s comfortable with men, and it’s so incredibly insane to me because there’s barely any men on Demeter’s land. It was filled with nymphs who were women so the fact that she barely even interacts with women is just… Out of character really considering her background. It seems like if we’re not talking about Apollo or if we don’t see him Persephone’s trauma is nonexistent. I know all survivors are different, trust me when I tell you that but this just seems way too unrealistic for me. There’s no way that after everything that happened to Persephone she’s okay with being touched and grabbed by anyone especially men. After days… That’s just insane.. It doesn’t even work like that so it just comes off very disingenuous.

But anyways, I agree with you that all the men should be held at the same standard. It’s obvious to see that Ares is very much obsessed with Persephone (which is a huge fucking eye roll, I know that some say that in the original myth Persephone was wanted by many but this feels so cringe, like incredibly annoying and self absorbed almost considering the circumstances of Lore Olympus) just like Apollo is also, bonus one!!! Hades. They’re all unhealthily obsessed with Persephone and they want her all to theirselves without regarding her emotions. They’re pretty much all the same character really, they’re all very predatory and the fact that people think they’re better is insane to me.

Sorry for this long rant I only intended it to be small, but then I started rambling so.. yeah. But thank you so much, Happy holidays to you too! I hope they’re going good for you!