#who i feel like have been collateral in all this mess with me and my love hate relationship with hoyoverse

[primoredial-jade]

i haven’t been playing or keeping up with genshin for over 9+ months now, but with the recent lore drops pertaining to childe and his vision, i’m suddenly interested in playing again 🤔 or at the very least, just reading into his role in the fontaine story quest 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[tommysversion]

Jealousy, Jealousy [ Joel Miller x Reader / Tommy Miller x Reader ]

Summary: you walk in on Joel & Tess, despite your building chemistry with him. Hurt, you turn to his brother for comfort. Joel finds out, and he isn’t happy.

CWs: derogatory language / unsafe sex / age gap implied / oral sex (m!receiving) / cum play / cum eating / choking / alcohol usage / use of pet names / very little plot it’s just a spicy mess

Tag List: @joelsgirl @loquaciousferret @dreamingofdaddydin @funnygirlthatgab

Notes: like always, this is for the girls, the gays and the theys. I wanted to finish my other WIP but this took over. Have fun.

Buy Me A Coffee?

Part Two / Alt Version

The whiskey burns your throat on the way down. You’re on maybe your third or fourth, but it’s still not enough to burn away the sight and sound you came across earlier.

You don’t have any claim on Joel, not really. Nothing has ever happened between you, even though there’s been a few close calls, but you were almost certain that he felt the same way about you as you do about him.

Until you walked in on him and Tess. Now you can’t get the image out of your head, the sight of her beneath him, the sounds…

You slam your empty glass down on the bar. It’s a shitty dive of a place in the QZ, one you all know well enough.

“Whoa there.”

You turn your head to find yourself face to face with Joel’s brother, Tommy, concern etched into his face. He’s not bad looking, not really, but you’ve never really been interested in him. Until now. Now, he’s looking pretty fucking good. Or maybe you’re just noticing him. Who cares.

���Come on, let’s get you home before curfew.” He holds out his hand to you. You don’t need it, not really, you aren’t drunk enough, but you take it anyway, let him lead you out of the bar and onto the streets.

“Why’d you come looking?” You ask as you let him walk you home.

“You didn’t show up to drop off this afternoon. Figured something was wrong, figured I’d find you here.”

“Didn’t think anyone would notice. Joel and Tess seemed too busy to care.” You can’t help the bitterness that creeps into your voice as you mention it.

“Ah.” Tommy shrugs, “try not to worry about it. My brother’s an idiot.”

Normally you’d argue. Jump to his defence. Tonight you just don’t feel like it, too hurt by what you saw to argue. Reaching your apartment block, you turn to him.

“You gonna come in for a drink? Least I can do after you walked me home.”

You know what you’re implying, don’t mind if he takes the hint that you’re offering more than a drink. You almost don’t expect him to follow you, but he does, up the stairs and into your apartment, shutting the door behind you both while you fish out two glasses and a bottle.

“Make yourself at home.”

You pour the liquor while he drops himself down onto your couch, spread out and lazy. Really, he’s quite attractive. You’ve never really noticed before, and maybe it’s the fact that you’re so angry and hurt that’s making you see him in this light, but still.

You hand him one of the glasses, down your own before you sit yourself down on the floor by his feet. You’re being forward as hell and you know it, but you’re tipsy and hurt and you just want to forget for a short while.

He looks down at you, surveys you with dark eyes so similar to Joel’s. The thought makes your heart hurt, so you push it away.

“What are you doing, hon?” His hand comes down to catch your cheek, tilting your head up to look at him.

Tommy doesn’t know what’s going on between you and his brother. Knows that Joel’s an idiot if he doesn’t realise that you’re interested. If he was a better man, he’d push you away, but, well…

It’s been a while since he’s gotten anything, and if his older brother is too stupid to realise you’re right there, dumb enough to fuck around with your feelings and Tess? Well, he doesn’t mind being the collateral.

“Trying to decide whether or not to suck your cock.” You admit, not bothering to be coy as you look up at him.

“Oh, yeah? What’s holding you back?”

“You haven’t said that I can.” You shrug, fingers creeping up his thighs.

“There’s a pretty girl on her knees for me askin’ to suck my dick, you think I’m gonna say no?” Amusement colours his tone.

“Well… I wanted to be polite and ask.” You smirk as your fingers find the zip of his pants, tug it out the way, your small hand reaching in and wrapping around his cock, stroking lazily.

He just leans back into the couch, watches you as you rub your thumb over the head of his cock, brushing across beads of precum, collecting them on your fingers to lick them up.

“Christ…” his eyes darken as he watches you, your eyes on his as you lean in and press feather light kisses to the tip of his cock. He’s nice and big, thick, slightly curved, and you love the slightly salty taste of him.

You don’t like to brag, but you know you’re good at this, enjoy it even, pressing little kisses along the length of him, tiny kitten licks to the slit in the tip, teasing until he fists a hand into your hair and yanks your head down onto his cock, almost making you choke.

You recover quickly, sucking his cock like he’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted, moving your head up and down, guided by the heavy hand in your hair.

“Fuck…” he rocks his hips up into your mouth, getting deeper into your throat, “such a sweet little mouth…”

You hum around him, urged on by the praise, eager to keep pleasing him, so desperate to be wanted…

You know full well this is messy and sloppy, your drool coating his cock, eyes watering slightly as you look up at him. You can’t see it, of course, but you’re a vision to behold, on your knees for him, mascara running down your face as your cheeks hollow out for him, his cock disappearing into your throat like you were made to take him.

God, he’s impressed, both by how well you worship his cock, and by how quickly you’ve worked him up.

“Gonna make me cum, pretty thing…” his hand releases your head, strokes your cheek lazily.

You pull away from him for a moment, wrap your hand around his cock and stroke slowly.

“Cum on my face.” You tell him, hazy with lust and drink. “On my tongue.”

He groans, moves to guide your mouth back to him, but you move faster, wrap your lips around him and let him rut up into your throat, moaning around him. Fuck, he tastes so good, exactly what you needed.

You can feel him becoming more erratic, groaning softly before he pulls out of your mouth, wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it roughly as your lips part, tongue flicking out to catch the hot ropes that spurt from his cock as he groans.

Fuck, you’re a sight to behold, on your knees, makeup a mess, lips parted with his cum on your tongue and your face. You lean in and lick him clean, swallow every drop you can get.

His fingers reach out, swipe through the mess he’s left on your lips, press them into your mouth.

“Suck ‘em, that’s a good girl.”

You do exactly as he says, swirl your tongue around his fingers until you’re satisfied they’re clean.

“You want me to -?”

You shake your head. You’re exhausted, your throat hurts, and while the offer is nice, you don’t think you can stay awake for it.

“Nah, ‘s okay. I just wanted to give you something.” You offer him a small smile as you get to your feet, watch him tuck himself back into his pants.

To his credit, he’s not a jerk. He makes sure you’re safely in your bed with a glass of water beside you before he heads off into the night, leaving you almost wishing you’d taken up his offer.

——

A week later, you’re sitting in the same bar with one of your friends, pointedly ignoring Joel a few seats away.

Once again, you’ve had a few too many to drink, and it’s loosening your tongue.

“So, what’s the deal with you and that guy anyway? The mystery man you were telling me about the other day?” Your friend knows exactly the right questions to ask, and while normally you’re not the bragging type, seeing Joel again has sent that spike of bitter resentment and jealousy through you.

Sure, it’s not like he’d ever promised you anything, but he’d damn well seemingly made it clear he was interested. Only for you to walk in on him fucking Tess like he loved her.

You hate him for it. Hate him for hurting you. More than that, though, you hate yourself for not being brave enough to confront your feelings.

But right now, you’re feeling spiteful, and you know damn well he can hear every word you say.

“Oh, it wasn’t really anything, just a one night thing.” You shrug.

“What did you say his name was again? Jimmy?”

“Tommy.” You run your finger around the rim of your glass.

“As in Miller?”

“Mmhmm.” You can feel Joel’s gaze burning into you as you speak. “He walked me home, one thing led to another…”

“Fuck, he’s so hot though…” your friend sighs, “I bet he has a great dick.”

“I mean… I liked it.”

You giggle, a very uncharacteristic sound, but still. You don’t regret what happened, not at all. You like giving head, and it wasn’t like he had an unpleasant dick. If anything, you kind of wish you’d let him fuck you. Maybe another time, seeing as Joel is clearly no longer interested.

“Are you gonna give me any details, or?”

You’re about to open your mouth when a hand clamps down on your shoulder.

“Outside. Now.”

You don’t need to look to know Joel’s pissed; you do anyway, are met with his stormy glare.

“Nice to see you too, Joel.”

“I mean it. Outside, now, or I’ll drag your ass out.” One look at him tells you he’s not kidding.

Sighing, you excuse yourself from your friend. Follow Joel out of the bar into the street, or rather, let him tow you out. Let him drag you by the wrist back to your apartment. Nobody wants to be caught in the streets at this hour.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You demand as soon as he’s slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t you what the fuck me.” He growls, crossing his arms over his chest as he backs you into the small room.

“I absolutely will, what’s your goddamn problem?” You hiss at him, furious. Furious and still hurt, because the last time you saw him he was fucking another woman, and no matter what you do you can’t get rid of that image.

“You! You’re my goddamn problem, running your mouth in that bar where anyone could hear you.”

You roll your eyes at him, your own temper flaring.

“How is what I was talking about any of your business?” You demand, glaring at him. “How is what I do any of your business?”

Admittedly you’re not very intimidating in comparison, but still.

“You were making a damn fool of yourself. Do you ever know when to keep your fucking mouth shut?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your brother? He seemed to know how to shut me up.” The words come out before you can stop them.

Joel exhales slowly, pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“Is there a reason you’re being such a goddamn bitch? Fucking my brother included.” He’s so damn frustrated right now, not understanding what’s gotten into you.

Usually you’re so sweet to him, the pair of you dancing around the mutual attraction you share. He’s not going to push it if you don’t, but maybe he’s misread things?

You stare at him.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

He just stares at you.

“I heard you and Tess, you asshole. So yeah. I know that for all your sweet words and the way we’ve been dancing around the subject? That’s just how you are, right? Anything to get laid, I guess.” You spit the words.

Something in his gaze snaps as he crosses to you, backs you against the wall, slams one hand into the cracked plaster beside your shoulder, the other settling on your throat.

You’re too angry to be scared, even though you know he’s dangerous, know you’ve pushed him too far, like poking a goddamn angry bear.

“First, don’t fucking assume that you know any goddamn thing about what happened that day.” He’s leaning right down to you, you can smell the whiskey on him, but still you aren’t afraid.

“Second, don’t presume that I’m that sort of bastard. You really think I’d do that to you?”

You glare at him.

“You already have.” You hate that your voice shakes as you say it.

Joel sighs as he looks at you.

“I’ve known her almost as long as you’ve been alive. Almost but not quite. There’s a difference between me fucking her when it means nothing, and what you’ve done.”

You glare at him again, because you don’t see any difference.

“It may not mean anything to you, but it definitely does to her.”

“And that’s her fucking problem, I’ve made it goddamn clear to her that I don’t see her that way, that that would be the last time. Then you go and fuck my brother?”

Somehow, suddenly, it becomes important to clarify. As if somehow it will make him less angry.

“Technically, I didn’t fuck him.”

“You-“ Joel stops mid sentence and looks at you. “You didn’t?”

“No. I mean, I sucked his dick, but… I was angry, I was so fucking angry and I just wanted to feel something. I just wanted to feel wanted.”

Joel stares at you like he’s never seen you before. Like he’s trying to understand you.

“And I don’t make you feel wanted?”

“Not when I walk in on you fucking someone who hates me, no. Not particularly.” You look away from him, before you do something stupid, like cry, which is a very real possibility whenever you think about what you saw, what you heard.

“Guess I need to change that.”

His hand drops from the wall, the other one releasing your throat as he leans in and devours your unsuspecting lips in a kiss. It’s desperate and angry and hungry, but you cling to him, your fury and your need pouring into it as he lifts you up, carries you across the room and into your room.

You pull him down on top of you, not letting go when he sets you down on the mattress, kisses still full of fury and rage but of something else, too, something you’ve been holding back for far too long.

“Still can’t believe you let my goddamn brother touch you.” Joel growls it into the soft skin of your throat, grinding his cock against you, your clothes still in the way.

You shove your skirt up, hands finding his belt. He catches your wrists in one hand.

“Were you this fucking eager for him, too?”

There’s that dark glint in his eyes again, possessive and jealous, even though he started this, even though he knows that really, he has no right to be angry. It doesn’t stop him.

“Does it matter, Joel? You really think I’d have done it if you’d just fucking…”

“Just what, sweetheart?” He releases your wrists, only because he needs his hand to tear your panties down, cup your bare cunt in his rough hand.

“Just fucking admitted you wanted me first!” You snap at him, grinding yourself against his hand in spite of your temper.

“Yeah, well. We all make mistakes, don’t we?” He plunges two fingers knuckle deep into your cunt, effectively stopping you from answering with anything but a strangled moan.

Your hands tear at his belt, yank his jeans down, your hand wrapping around the length of him. Fuck, he’s big, bigger than his brother, thick and hard and dripping pre cum, all for you, all because of you, because in spite of how angry he is, he still wants you.

Just as you want him, your cunt aching and dripping onto his fingers as he fucks you with them, hard and fast and punishing.

“I should make you suck my cock, refuse to touch you; but if I do that, what’s to say you won’t go and whore yourself out to someone else?”

His words are dark, gaze feral as he looks down, watches his fingers disappear inside you.

“Better I just take you, ruin you for anyone else. You won’t want anyone else when I’m done with you, it’ll be nothing in comparison.” He leans in and bites your throat, right above your collarbone.

“Is that right?” Your hand strokes him roughly; you can feel how needy you are for him, feel yourself tightening around his fingers but it’s not enough, you need more.

“Don’t fucking push me, sweetheart.” He growls it, drags his fingers out of you, presses them to your mouth.

Automatically you part your lips, suck on his thick, rough fingers until they’re coated in your saliva rather than your slick, your eyes on him the entire time.

He groans, a sound that’s still closer to a growl than a moan.

“Fuck sake…” he’s still furious with you, that fury coming back tenfold at the lewd way you suck his fingers, as if they were his cock.

“This how you sucked him off?”

“I don’t know,” you challenge, “are you gonna fuck me like you fucked her?”

He glares at you, and for a moment you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that you’ve pushed him too far.

He does the opposite, moves so fast you can’t keep up, lines himself up and slams into you, every inch of his cock pressing deep. You scream out for him, half in pleasure, half in surprise.

Fuck, he’s so big it hurts, you feel so full you’re not certain you can take him, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t give you any time to adjust, one hand bracing himself on the mattress, the other gripping your waist to pull you onto his cock, over and over until your back arches off the bed.

“No,” he growls in answer to your question, “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

He’s relentless, pounding into you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, rough and hard, growling against your skin the entire time, covering every bit of exposed skin with bite marks and bruises.

“Joel…” it comes out half squeal, half moan as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, gets deeper inside you.

“That’s it, sweetheart, can feel how needy you are for me. Don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else, huh?”

You shake your head, mute except for mewls and sighs of pleasure, your nails digging into his arms, trying to hold on, but unable to think straight, barely able to see or focus.

“That’s what I thought, baby, gonna get you so fuckin’ addicted to my cock you’ll forget all about anyone else. This sweet pussy is all mine.”

Fuck, he wishes he’d done this sooner, wishes he’d avoided this entire fucking debacle, because he’s afraid it’ll always hang between you now, unless he fucks you so hard you forget.

“Already was, Joel, always been yours…” you moan it out for him, fingers finding the sweat damp curls of his hair and tugging, hard.

He moans, a deep, guttural sound that you immediately commit to memory, the sound alone making your cunt throb around him.

“Oh, you like that, baby? You like hearing what you do to me?” He shakes his head, grinds into you slowly before resuming his relentless pace.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna…”

Oh, he knows. He can feel you fluttering around him, tight little hole becoming even tighter as he fucks you, leans down and presses a searing kiss to your mouth before he pulls out of you.

You whine at the loss, but before you can say anything else he has you flipped onto your front, face buried in the mattress, ass in the air as he slams back into you, both hands on your waist as he fucks you so hard you see stars.

There’s no holding back, not anymore, your hands clawing at the mattress as your eyes roll back slightly from the pleasure, feeling yourself tighten painfully around him before your climax hits, hard and fast, washing over your entire body, leaving you shaking beneath him, screaming his name loud enough that the entire goddamn building can hear.

“That’s fucking right baby, you scream for me. You tell everyone that you’re mine.” He yanks your hair back, holds you upright as he ruts into you, thrusts becoming more and more sloppy and erratic with each movement.

“Every fuckin’ inch of you is mine, you hear me?”

“Yours, Joel, all yours…” you moan it for him, still on the high of your climax, entire body over stimulated.

“That’s goddamn right.” He slams in deep once more, one final time, grinds against you as he cums, fills your tight little pussy with hot ropes of his spend, groaning the entire time.

He stays there for a moment, catches his breath before he pulls out of you, flops down beside you.

There’s a moment’s pause, where you aren’t sure whether you’ll still see rage in his eyes if you look at him. Aren’t sure whether he’ll see it in you, either.

He saves you having to look, answers the unasked question by pulling you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest.

“I’m so-“

“Don’t.” You reach up to touch your hand to his lips. “Don’t be. I should be the one apologising.”

“I think we both owed each other an apology, to be honest.” Joel says finally, “though, uh… maybe that was a good start?”

You laugh, lean into him.

“Skip the apology and go straight for the makeup sex, huh?”

Joel smirks, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Oh, darling. That wasn’t the makeup sex. That was the I’m fucking furious sex. You’ll like the makeup sex a whole lot more.”

Smirking yourself, you roll on top of him, lean down so you can press a kiss to his mouth.

“I like the sound of that. How do I sign up for it?”

“You promise we won’t touch anyone else. Ever.”

You press a long, heated kiss to his parted lips.

“Easy enough for me.”

“Good.” Another smirk before he rolls you, pinning your smaller frame beneath him. “I fucked you like I hated you. Now you’re gonna find out how I fuck when I love you.”

You just whimper, wrap your fingers into his curls and drag him into another kiss. It’s going to be a long night.

[patscorner]

CHAPTER ONE: BUY-IN

pairings: paige x oc

contains: pining, angst

word count: 2,575

a/n: okay, one chapter in. let me know what you guys think, my inbox is open. also let me know what you might like to see, the outline isn't set in stone. school has started so it might be a bit before the next chapter, but it's coming. enjoy!

My palms sweat as I dial the familiar number, one I’d memorized by heart. It’d been far too long since I’d called her, and I don’t really have a reason, so the bullshit ‘I’ve been busy’ excuse will just have to do.

=======================

JUNE 2023

“Hello?”

I clear my throat in an attempt to swallow the lump that magically appeared. “H-Hey, Azzi, uh-it’s CJ.”

“Who?” My heart dropped to my shoes as my brain scrambled to pick up the pieces of one word.

“I-uh..”

Azzi chuckles. “I’m just messing with you. What’d you need?” I let out a breath as I rub my head.

“Oh my god, I actually hate you, holy shit.” I laugh.

“Apparently, since it’s been, what, like three months since we’ve talked.” I could practically hear the eye roll.

It’s really not fair for me to ignore Azzi because, really, she hadn’t done anything but be my best friend.

Our best friend.

And maybe that our was the problem. Maybe that combination, the unity of the word, and everything behind it was a mistake. Maybe, letting her etch herself into the scrolls of my heart, so much so that the ink bled together. Maybe the missed cue of when mine became hers, and hers became ours, was poor oversight.

Maybe letting Azzi become collateral damage was where me and her went wrong.

I laugh it off, ignoring the pang it sends to my chest.

“Yeah, well, I have to mentally prepare myself to lose brain cells. Can’t let it fuck up my game.” I respond, earning a laugh from the brown-haired girl. There’s nothing like the nostalgia a sound can bring you. The memories and feelings, all hidden behind a single noise.

After she gathers herself, she sighs. “So what’s up?”

And suddenly, I remember why I’d called.

“Yeah, uh, there’s something I kinda wanted to talk to you about, before you hear it somewhere else..” I say, picking at my earlobe nervously.

“Ooookay… Is everything okay..?” her voice relaying softer through the phone.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing bad. Or, at least, I don’t think..” I fall silent for a moment. This couldn’t be as bad as I’m making it seem, right? Right?

“Either way, I’d just rather talk about it in person.”

Azzi hums. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Where do you want to meet?” I consider my options. I’m only in Minnesota to visit my family for about a week, and it’d take another day to get to Virginia… I would be back in time to move into my dorm. It’s inconvenient but doable.

“I could drive up to you in like a week, I’ll just meet you at your house.” I mutter thoughtfully.

“Wait, are you in Texas or Minnesota?”

“I’m about an hour out from Minny.” I answer, slightly confused.

“Oh, I’m here with Paige and the boys. We’re actually headed to the fair soon. You could meet up with us if you wanted.”

“Shit…uh, I didn’t think about them...” I mumble.

That’s a lie. Truthfully, every time I think of home, memories of the blonde flood my mind instantly. But then I’m reminded of what she’d done. How she ripped herself out of my chest like velcro, instead of carefully detangling herself, ridding herself off all strings attached. All for someone else.

For someone who used to be mine.

“Hello..? You still there?”

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Uh, th-yeah, that’s fine.” I sigh, quickly trying to recover.

Azzi sighs through the phone. “Look, I still don’t know what happened between you two, so if you don’t want to come-” she amends.

“No! No, okay, sorry. I- just gotta change my clothes…” I say, biting my lip as I lie through my teeth. “I’ll just meet you guys there?”

I could practically hear Azzi smile. “That sounds good, just call me when you get there.”

After we say our goodbyes, I hang up. I groan as I throw my head back.

I’m always up to a challenge, but the thought of going and having to function around her, after all she’s said and done; after she’s ruined us before there even was an us, that might be more difficult than I’d thought.

It’s not like I have a choice, though. I’m gonna have to learn how to be around her every day, especially when the season starts.

_________

“Drew, bro, if you spray me with that shit one more time, I swear to god, I will beat your ass.” I glared at him as he hid behind Jose, who put his hands up in surrender. I should not have bought him that water gun.

I rolled my eyes as I turned back to Azzi, who kept looking around, then back at her phone, repeating the process. I kicked her in her shin. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?” Azzi complains, rubbing her leg. “Who are you looking for?” I say, glancing around.

She looks back down at her phone. “Nobody. Just people watching.” I scoff. “Bullshit, are we being spied on, or what?” She shakes her head, looking up around once more. “Okay, bro, what’s going on? Who’s ass do I have to beat?”

Azzi rolls her eyes at me. “You couldn’t beat Ohio, let alone anyone else.”

I sit back in shock, putting my hand on my heart as I feign offense. “Okay, their defense was so unexpected. You can’t even put that on me.” She shrugged, looking back at her phone and standing up. “Where-”

“Bathroom.” she mutters. I watch as she practically sprints away. If only she did that shit in practice. I shake my head.

I open my phone and begin mindlessly scrolling through instagram, ignoring the thousands of times I’ve been tagged in pictures that I’d taken with fans today. Suddenly, I freeze.

It’s a post by the official UConn women’s basketball team. It’s a picture of CJ in her Texas jersey, the number 43 on the front. Her hair is in her signature bun, hair slicked back carefully, as she drives towards the basket. The caption reads “Welcome CJ West!”

What the fuck?

I’m in such a state of shock that when Azzi comes back, I don’t notice the figure next to her. I glance up at her, then back at my phone. “Yo, Azzi, have you seen this?” I look up at her again, and this time, I let my eyes flick to the person next to her.

CJ.

Forgetting what I’d just seen, my jaw drops as I take her in. She’s just as beautiful, if not more, as she was the last time I’d seen her. She’s wearing a basic casual outfit; a plain white crop top, paired with blue jeans, and gold jewelry that always makes her hazel eyes seem brighter. Or maybe that’s just how they look naturally.

“Oh, shit.” I whisper, clearly in awe. She rolls her eyes.

Fuck.

“Hello to you, too, Paige.” Double fuck.

That fucking voice.

I clear my throat, trying to recover. “Hey, CJ.” I breathe. The lighthearted air is swallowed by suffocating tension as I make eye contact with a stranger.

“Oooookay…” Azzi says, clearing her throat. “This is about as awkward as I’d thought it’s be…” she mutters. CJ looks at her. “I told you.”

I look between them. “What’s going on?”

Azzi looked at CJ expectantly, gesturing to her to speak. CJ rolled her eyes and huffed. “I-uh, I have news.” CJ glanced between Azzi and I. She cleared her throat as she picked at her earlobe, a habit she’d picked up when she was younger. I’d always hold her hand to stop her, and I want to do that more than anything right now. I think I’ve lost that right, though.

“I’m transferring to UConn.”

My eyes flick to Azzi’s who’s jaw drops. “Really? How-Why?”

CJ shrugs, trying feign carelessness. “Better environment, Texas heat ain’ my thing.” To the normal eye, CJ’s behavior could be seen as normal. But to me? I see the way her eyelids flutter, the hesitation behind her pretty lips, and the way her eyebrows raise just slightly. She’s a good liar.

Just not good enough.

I don’t say anything, though, not when she gets dragged away by Drew and Jose, not when Drew practically begs her to stay and hang out with us, and certainly not when she’s sat in front of me on the ride Jon chooses. I don’t say anything when the boys get swept away, and it’s just the three of us, like it always used to be.

It’s only when Azzi goes to the bathroom, leaving us alone for the first time in years that I say anything. “Try not to kill each other, please.” She orders as she scurries to the restroom.

It’s silent for a moment, and I can almost see the relief on her face when she thinks I’ll hold my tongue.

Unfortunately, I’m nobody’s peace.

“How long are you here for?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my black cargo pants. She looks up at me. “Uh-just for the week, gotta move outta my dorm, and it’s a long drive, so.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You driving on your own?”

CJ nods. “Yeah, I’ll just sleep in my car or something.” I shake my head. “No fucking way, bro, you serious? That’s like a twenty hour drive.”

She crosses her arms. “So? That’s how I got here.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not goin’ on your own.” I say. Truthfully, I knew she’d be fine on her own, but something about her driving back to Texas, just to go back to Connecticut, doesn’t sit well with me. I’m only concerned for her safety. Or at least that’s what I decide to tell myself.

She scoffs. “What, you’re gonna come with me?”

“I could, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not. Didn’t even wanna see you today.”

I turned to her. “Seriously, dude?” She looks at me. “Yes, seriously.”

I roll my eyes. I know I hurt her. I know I fucked up. But that was three years ago. We were kids. I was eighteen. I can legally drink now. It’s been three years. How can someone be upset for that long? “You gotta get over it one day.” I say before thinking about it.

I regret it when I see a flash of hurt on her face. “Get over it? That’s easy for you to say, Paige.” she spits out harshly.

Ouch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, even though I know exactly what she meant. “Exactly what it sounds like. You get over shit quickly.” She shrugs. Her nonchalant tone pisses me off more than the words. I take a step towards her. “I didn’t ‘get over’ anything. There was nothing to ‘get over’. You were just jealous-”

“Jealous?” She interrupts incredulously. “Paige, you stuck your tongue down her throat!”

“And that pissed you off. Hence, jealousy.” I shrug.

“You were my best friend! It’s not fucking jealousy, it’s betrayal!” She practically yells, taking a step closer, our toes almost touching.

“I didn’t betray anybody! I was drunk! She was drunk! And I apologized afterward!” I say, trying to ignore the way her scent invades my senses.

She laughs dryly, taking a step back. “Right, you’re right. Yeah, an apology fixes it all.” I blink. “Really?”

CJ stares at me. “You’re a fucking idiot.” she says, and the only emotion I can pick up is anger. “I know.” I whisper.

Just then Azzi comes out of the bathroom, looking between us. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.” We say at the same time, and Azzi raises her eyebrows. “Aaaalrighty then… Can we find the boys, I’m ready to go.”

I nod and begin to walk behind Azzi, but I don’t miss the way CJ looks at me. I’m no expert, but if I know one thing, it’s the gaze of someone who’s been heartbroken.

I know because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it every time I’ve looked in the mirror for the past three years.

__________

“There’s no way you’re driving to Texas by yourself.” Azzi gapes from the corner seat of the booth. Jose convinced Paige to drive us to some random diner. She’s so easy.

I roll my eyes as I take a sip of my sprite. “Bro, you sound like Paige.” I grumble.

“The fact that I’m agreeing with her should tell you how fucking stupid you sound.” she said. I look at her in shock as Paige throws her head back, cackling.

Fuck.

That stupid fucking laugh paired with that stupid fucking smile makes it so fucking hard to be mad at her. Maybe I should let it go. It has been three years…

No.

Instead of entertaining the thoughts, I opt for kicking her shin instead. “What do you think that says about you, dumbass.” She immediately shuts up, and I roll my eyes as Jon almost spits out his Dr. Pepper.

“I’ll have you know I was AP player of the year.” She defends, eyebrows furrowed. I raise my eyebrows unimpressed. “Still holding onto that, huh?”

Azzi laughs, and Paige shoots her a look. “Can we get back on task, please?” That seems to direct all the attention back to me. “Driving to Texas? All on your own?” Paige says.

“Yes. Did y’all forget how I got here? I didn’t fucking speedwalk.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna go to Texas, spend, what, two full days staying up late and packing up three years of your life, and then driving the… twenty-nine, thirty, hour trip to Connecticut?” Azzi reasons.

I blink. “Well, when you put it like that..” I mutter.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Dude, just let us come with you. We can drive you there, so your car isn’t sitting in the middle of nowhere-”

“Isn’t your car in Storrs?”

“And we can switch drivers. Stay at a hotel halfway there, and then drive the rest of the way the day after.” She finishes, ignoring my comment. Before I can answer, the waiter comes with our food.

As he sets the plates down, I look at Paige, just taking her in. She’s wearing a plain black hoodie, with some red, white, and blue shorts on. It’s not much, but she could be wearing a trashbag and still be the hottest motherfucker around. It’s almost disgusting how effortlessly gorgeous she is.

I wouldn’t mind having someone to help me get to Connecticut. It’s a long drive, and it should be an easy yes. The truth is, when she looks like that, and acts like this, and talks the way she does… I don’t know how I’m going to get through the season, let alone a road trip.

I watch her lips as she says a thank you to the waiter, quickly averting my eyes when she looks at me. When the waiter leaves, I look back up and roll my eyes at her poor attempt to hide her smirk. As much as I wanted to wipe the smirk off her face, driving alone to Texas sounded dreadful. Plus, Paige has an okay music taste. Might not be that bad.

“Fine. You guys can come with me to Texas.”

Azzi smiles, clearly satisfied. Paige grins like a madman, clapping her hands. “This is going to be fun.”

I roll my eyes for the upteenth time tonight.

What the fuck did I just get myself into?

=======================

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerrss @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang @chelisbae @angelscovee @st4rrzynight @cherryswisherz

[kalixora]

Bounty PT2

[Back at Base]

“Why don’t you join the Autobots?” a little human girl named Miko asked you, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"I have mouths to feed and no time for pity parties," you answered, crossing your arms. Your hounds rested on the floor, while your largest stayed by your side, warily watching Ratchet, the medic Optimus assured the both of you to trust.

"But the Autobots are the good guys! You’re a good guy, you take the bad guys!" Miko exclaimed dramatically, her enthusiasm unwavering.

The sound of your youngest hound whimpering as the medic worked filled your helm. Your largest hound growled, but you quickly waved your servo, making them stop.

"Always fighting, always leaving a mess behind," you muttered, frustration evident in your voice. "Where we have to clean it up. Planets destroyed, so many species, lives taken because—"

"Of the cons!" Miko interrupted. You looked at the human girl eyeing her coldly. "No," you shook your helm slowly. "Autobots and Decepticons. They’re both to blame."

Miko looked taken aback, glancing between you and the Autobots. Miko’s eyes landed on Arcee who stared at the ground, looking away from you.

Optimus lowered his gaze, the weight of your words hitting home as Ratchet continued to fix your hound while grumbling under his breath.

Your youngest hound whimpered again, your optics shifting to the medic, you let out a soft pitch and spoke a few words in cybertrioan from where you stood, and your youngest became calm.

"This endless war," you continued, your voice firm but no less intense, "it affects everyone. Not just those on the front lines. Someone has to deal with the aftermath, and it’s people like me who get stuck with that job."

Optimus stepped closer, his voice calm yet resolute. "We strive to protect and restore, but I understand your perspective. The war has taken a toll on many, and for that, I am truly sorry."

You looked up at him, meeting his optics with a mixture of anger and resignation. "Sorry doesn’t fix what’s broken," you said quietly, standing up. "My hound was shot; it was a scrappy attempt at ending his life. Imagine a child's blood on your hands, in front of his mother. This is the first hound to be born after so many missed cycles. How would your Autobots feel if your leader lost their life over a misunderstanding?"

Optimus's optics dimmed slightly, the weight of your words sinking in. "We understand the gravity of what has happened," he said solemnly. "It was never our intention to cause such harm."

Miko watched you, her face unsure and conflicted, struggling to grasp the depth of your anger.

"You have to understand," you continued, "this isn’t just about sides. It’s about the innocent lives caught in the crossfire, the collateral damage that doesn’t get fixed with apologies."

Optimus nodded, his expression serious. "You’re right. We must do better. Strive to protect all life.”

You tilted your helm toward the Prime, noticing how he stood to block your view of Arcee.

Optimus shifted his optics to your hound standing beside you and knelt down before her. “I am sorry. Forgive them, as your hatred should be targeted towards me.”

Your hound snarled, baring its teeth and getting into an attack position. The other hounds stood up, shaking their heads before beginning to circle the kneeling Prime, a low growl resonating among them.

“What’s happening?” Miko asked, peering from beside your feet. “Are they gonna hurt him?”

“No, this is revenge,” Arcee said, narrowing her optics at you.

You watched the scene unfold, the tension thick in the air. “If it were revenge, you would have been dead, on the spot.” you said.

Optimus remained still, his optics unwavering. “Do what you must,” he said, his voice steady. “But know that my actions come from a desire to protect. I ask only that you spare my team from further harm.”

Your hounds paused, their growls still rumbling but their eyes flicking to you for direction. You could sense the resolve in Optimus’s optics, the genuine regret in his words.

You sighed deeply, the anger warring within you. "This war has taken too much from too many," you said. "But maybe it’s time for a different path."

With a slight gesture, you signaled your hounds to stand down. They hesitated but obeyed, moving back to your side.

Miko let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Thank you," she whispered, looking up at you with a mix of relief and admiration.

Optimus rose to his feet, his optics meeting your hound. "Your mercy is not unnoticed. We will strive to be better, for all affected by this war."

"All done," Ratchet said with an unamused laugh. "He needs rest. Should be able to do—whatever it is that you all do—in the morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going into recharge."

"That’s a first," Miko giggled.

You walked over to the medic table and smiled as you placed your servo on your hound’s head. "Thank the All-Spark…"

Arcee headed out of the area with Smokescreen and Bumblebee trailing behind her. The Wreckers and Ultra Magnus stayed put, watching you as you remained by the medic table.

Wheeljack crossed his arms, his optics narrowing. "How’d you become a bounty hunter, anyway? Was there a class or something? And what’s with all the hounds? You an animal lover, or are they just tools for the job?"

Ultra Magnus stepped forward, his presence imposing. "Surely you can provide more than a simple answer. Your skills are exceptional. There must be a story behind them."

"They’re not just animals—they’re my partners, my family. In a galaxy full of mess, they’re the ones I can rely on."

Bulkhead optics flickered with a mix of skepticism, you didn’t answer the question fully. "Guess that makes sense. Out here, you need all the help you can get. But don’t think for a second that trusting us is the wrong move. We’ve got your back if you’re willing to give us a chance. That is…"

You glanced at your hounds, now resting peacefully, with your largest still faithfully at your side.

As the Autobots slowly dispersed, you remained by the medic table, feeling a cautious hope for the future.

"Is it just me, or did Optimus give her a look?" Miko said, perched on Bulkhead’s shoulder as they watched Optimus turn to face you again.

"Not now, Miko," Bulkhead sighed.

"Let me guess, you want me to stay and fight for your cause?" you questioned the Prime, your tone tinged with skepticism.

“Only if you choose to,” Optimus said calmly, his optics steady. “But the cause is for our home, for Cybertron.”

“That so? The line has been blurred for a while now, hard to tell if it’s still for Cybertron,” you replied, folding your arms across your chest.

Optimus took a few deliberate steps closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with you. His presence was commanding yet reassuring. “It has always been for Cybertron,” he asserted firmly.

You glanced at him, studying him. Despite your doubts, you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his words.

“And what if I choose not to fight alongside you?”

“Then that is your choice,” Optimus replied evenly. “But know that our offer of alliance and support stands, should you ever decide otherwise.”

“That so?” You hummed. “Let me ask you this then Optimus, do you want us to stay?”

Optimus looked at you, his optics staring into yours with unwavering sincerity. “Yes,” he said simply. You raised an optic ridge, surprised by his straightforwardness.

“I’ll make a decision by dawn,” you replied. “You should rest, Prime. Another day of fighting Decepticons can be draining, I’m sure.”

Optimus nodded, appreciating your understanding. “Thank you. I look forward to your decision.”

. . .

“I’m telling you, I saw it! With my own two eyes! Optimus definitely has a crush on her!” Miko insisted.

“Get real, Miko. Optimus is too busy for stuff like that,” Jake rolled his eyes.

“No one’s ever too busy for love!” Miko said, clasping her hands together. “Right, Bulk?”

Everyone exchanged glances as they waited in the training room for Optimus to return.

“Please, Optimus knows better than to get involved with a bounty hunter of all people. She doesn’t believe in any sides of the war, as if it wasn’t the Decepticons who started it,” Ratchet huffed. “Making me fix her hound was just absurd. Couldn’t she have done it herself? What kind of person doesn’t know how to fix their animal?”

“… You think she has a bounty for Optimus?” Smokescreen questioned.

“No,” Ultra Magnus shook his helm. “She would’ve killed him in front of us if that were the case.”

“She has a young hound, right? Maybe it’s not ready to fight yet,” Raf said, leaning against the wall with a contemplative look.

“Pft, wish you guys would’ve called for backup. I would’ve ended Miss Sunshine on the spot,” WheelJack chuckled, his bulky frame vibrating with suppressed energy as he pounded his fists together.

Ultra Magus glanced at WheelJack with a raised optic ridge. “Easy there, Wrecker. She’s not our enemy.”

“Yeah, but she’s no ally either,” WheelJack grumbled, his expression hardening.

Ultra Magnus stepped forward, his demeanor composed yet authoritative. “Regardless of our opinions, she has proven formidable. We must remain cautious and focused.”

Bumblebee beeped, “Let’s not forget, she did allow us to treat her hound. That counts for something.”

“I still think he has the hots for her,” Miko shrugged nonchalantly. Bulkhead chuckled softly. “Maybe you’re right, Miko.”

Arcee shook her helm folding her arms. “Optimus is focused on the mission, Miko. Romance isn’t exactly his style.”

"What! Come on! Weren’t you in love with somebody!" Miko questioned the two wheeler.

"No," Ratchet grunted. "Romance and war don’t mix well, that’s for sure."

Ultra Magnus folded his arms, "Our priority remains securing peace and stability."

WheelJack snorted. "Peace and stability? Easier said than done. The cons know nothing about that."

Raf shrugged slightly. "I mean… she might have a point. You guys needed help from humans for your war on our planet… even though you were defending it from the cons, you’re still leaving something behind that could affect us."

Arcee’s optics flashed with offense, her voice firm. "Raf, we’ve fought to protect Earth from the Decepticons. We’ve sacrificed much to ensure its safety."

Ultra Magnus’s demeanor turned stern. "Our actions have always been in defense of Earth. We do not take lightly the consequences of our battles."

Ratchet’s expression darkened. "Do not mistake necessity for indifference, Rafael. We strive to minimize harm, but sometimes there are no easy choices in war."

Bumblebee looked between them, sensing the tension. “I think Raf just meant—”

Ratchet interrupted, his voice carrying a hint of disappointment. “No, Bumblebee. He needs to understand that we fight to protect, not to endanger.”

Raf shook his head, his voice earnest as he interjected, “I know that, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just… seeing the aftermath sometimes makes me wonder if there could be a better way.”

Arcee softened slightly, “We understand, Raf. We all have the same goal at the end of the day, to go home.”

Raf smiled up at Arcee, his expression relieved as they heard the ground bridge open and footsteps echoing through the base. Soon, Optimus and you returned, your hounds trailing behind, their watchful gazes scanning the room as everyone emerged from the training room and converged towards you and the Prime.

Optimus placed his servo on your shoulder and addressed everyone with a solemn tone, his optics sweeping over the gathered Autobots. "Autobots, Y/N has decided to stay and help us."

Ratchet, standing nearby with his arms crossed, couldn't help but groan audibly. "So many mouths to feed," he muttered under his breath, eyeing the hounds that trailed behind you and Optimus.

Miko squealed excitedly, "Finally, another girl! Hi! Nice to meet you again, I'm Miko! And this is Raf and Jack!"

You looked down at the humans as they waved at you. Nodding your helm in acknowledgement, you spoke a word in Cybertronian, prompting your hounds to move forward from behind you, their tails wagging eagerly. All of them, except your largest hound, who remained by your side, glared defiantly at Arcee.

"Y/N, and this is [hound's name]. She keeps the others in check," you introduced, gesturing to your largest hound beside you.

"So, what made you want to join us Autobots, sunshine?" Wheeljack asked, narrowing his optics at you.

You glanced at Optimus for a moment, then back at Wheeljack. "Timing," was all you said, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

[mediumgayitalian]

part three

———

The first step should, in all likelihood, be the easiest.

(“I’m not sure this is something you can really plan,” Annabeth had suggested gently, “as much as my mother would disown me to hear it. I mean, everything I did with Percy kind of just…happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the five years of pining misery and fighting off several other people — one of whom was literally me — was a real walk in the park for you.”

“…Plan on.”)

It is not the easiest.

“You’re telling me the flowers…say things.”

If Nico reaches back into the farthest recesses of his memory, as in things that are shoved somewhere between his sister’s soft sobs the one time he got sicker than he’d ever been and has ever been since and the time he’d walked in on Alecto skinny dipping in the Phlegothon, he can vaguely remember a lengthy rant from his stepmother on something called the language of flowers. He had, at that time, assumed she was simply trying to convince him that everything had voices again, and ignored her.

“Yes,” says Miranda from Demeter Cabin patiently. “Every flower has an assigned meaning. More than one, usually. You can say very rude things with flowers.”

Nico perks up, intrigued. “How do you say ‘you’re a fucking c—”

“Okay,” Jason interrupts, plastering a strained smile on his face and slapping a hand over Nico’s mouth. Nico bites him, hard, and the smile becomes even more strained. “We are actually looking for much nicer things to say with flowers. Kind things. Appreciative things. Feelings, you know. Nico?”

He lifts his hand, looking at him in warning as if Nico is going to be quelled by his Stare of Judgement, of all things. Nico stares back at him until he starts to look appropriately cowed, satisfyingly afraid of the horror that lives inside Nico’s eyes, except he — doesn’t.

He doesn’t look scared at all, actually, which is — which.

Nico takes all thoughts pertaining to the issue and shoves them away.

“I need,” he says haltingly, looking back at Miranda. She looks at him encouragingly.

She doesn’t look afraid of him, either, although she glances quickly down at the circle of grass he’s killed by virtue of standing on it and says, politely, “If you could maybe stop that, I would appreciate it.”

Nico swallows, stepping back. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She swoops down, hands outstretched, murmuring something too soft for him to pick up. Under her gentle fingertips, the grass blooms slowly back to life, tiny strands uncurling and swelling with virility, stretching towards the sun. Even the dirt smells sweeter, like churned garden soil rather than graveyard dirt.

Something dark and bitter crawls up Nico’s throat — he will always need people to clean up after his messes. No matter how hard he tries. Miranda with the plants, Solace with every one of his endless injuries, Bianca with — everything. She cleaned up after him a lot.

She was only twenty-seven months older than him. He wonders how she would have liked being fourteen, and has to choke back the sob that tries to claw its way out of his trachea.

“Not a lot of people have flower language memorized,” Miranda says, dragging him roughly back to the present. Her large brown eyes are back to focused on him, so he forces himself into normalcy and stares back. “And it’s kind of vague, so I need something to start with. Who’s it for?”

“Classified.”

Nico considers, once again, opening up a chasm beneath his feet. His geokinesis is no bene so he’d probably take Jason and Miranda down with him, but. Necessary sacrifices, et cetera.

“Understandable,” Miranda responds without so much as a beat. Huh. Suddenly, he feels bad for considering her collateral. “Just this then: friend or foe?”

Nico looks at Jason. Jason looks back at him, like, dude, seriously. Nico scowls at him and his uselessness.

“Friend,” he says begrudingly. “…More.”

Miranda nods in understanding. “Ah. Will, then.”

Nevermind. Chasm it is.

“Man, I hoped you guys would finally do something,” Miranda continues, oblivious to the ground trembling slightly under her. (Jason, however, appears alarmed, so Nico summons a tiny skeleton hand to grab his ankle in revenge.) “I love Will to pieces, but there are only so many times I can hear him wax poetic about you before it starts to get embarrassing. When we were twelve you saved his life and he actually cried because he didn’t know how to form the words. Just weeping everywhere about your sword and your hair and how you look a little crazy when you smile in battle. Did you know there are, like, a million syllables for brown? I do. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering.”

“I have actually heard that,” Jason mumbles, as Nico’s brain whites out and leaves him, tragically alone, to suffer. “I thought he was just super into geology.”

“Oh, he is. He’s a little into everything. There’s a bi joke, for you.”

“Oh, ha, I get it.”

Is that his body, stranded somewhere below him? Hi, body. Good to see you. You look like hell. Feel free to summon your soul back into yourself at any time, that’d be great.

“I am generally bad at functioning,” he admits, once his essence has begrudgingly reattached itself to his cells and his blood stops ringing quite so loudly in his ears.

Miranda shrugs. “I think you’re pretty okay. Once Percy had to get five stitches on his lip because he was half asleep and mixed up his plate and pizza and bit clean through his plate. It only really needed four stitches, but Will laughed so hard he couldn’t focus right and tore the wound a tad before fixing it. By accident.”

Nico tries very hard not to picture that laughter, not to remember the first time he heard Will laugh, not the hundreds of times after; a loud sound, a musical sound, despite his insistence that he has no talents. Laughter like olive oil laughs in the pan, like wind laughs as it rushes through the poplar trees.

Jason nods sympathetically. “Mondays are hard.”

“Please,” Nico begs the both of them. The nerve he’d summoned after the encouragement of his friends is slowly leaking out of his eyeballs and soaking the ground. “I just need —”

He can’t finish that sentence, either. I need to give Will flowers so he knows I have….intentions, with him, is the most embarrassing sentence ever to be conjured by man, and if he has to say it aloud he knows his father will smite him out of pity, as is their deal. It must only be implied, and even then, he could get egged by any member of Cabin Eleven and turn into a breakfast buffet, his face is so godsdamn hot.

“Will, is, like, unbelievably dense,” Miranda says, taking pity on him. She waits for Nico to finish choking, patting him firmly on the back before continuing. “I guess that’s not fair. He can be quite observant, he just has worse self-esteem than you, even, no offense, so if you are trying to seduce him you’re going to have to be very obvious.”

The wheezing that she has just circumvented starts all over again. This time, Jason joins him. Miranda has no qualms or shame — fitting, since Nico has met her mother, who also has no shame about anything. Nico will never be able to forget that she is the goddess of fertility.

“Who the fuck said anything about seducing,” he manages, finally, lungs chilling somewhere on the grass.

Miranda ignores him. “I would usually say something simple like daisies, but they can be representative of friendship and he will for sure assume they are friendship flowers. Hyacinth can communicate a much deeper breadth of emotion, but, uh —” she glances at the Apollo cabin — “I would avoid Hyacinth.”

Nico sobers. Yeah. That would be wise.

“I think roses send a little too strong of a message for your purposes, so I’m thinking carnations. Pink ones.”

Recovering from the implications of the roses — he’s a little out of time, not stupid, he knows what they mean — he looks at her curiously. “What do pink carnations mean?”

She shrugs. “Love and affection, really. Sometimes gratitude, and in some poetry their colouring is compared to a pleased flush.”

Although he expected much more agony in this particular step of the journey (not that their wasn’t a good, healthy amount; can’t feel good feelings for too long if you’re Nico di Angelo, Cursèd, Son of Hades, Prince of the Underworld, Ghost King, Et Cetera, Et Cetera), pink carnations seem surprisingly…right. Love and affection, he can handle that, and if there’s one thing he always is, regarding Will, it’s grateful. Maybe the whole damn camp should be giving him pink carnations.

“Here.”

Sensing Nico’s hesitant acceptance, Miranda swoops down to the ground, digs around a second, shoots a quick prayer to her mother, and waits. A moment later, several blush-pink flowers shoot from the dirt, along with — Nico squints to read it — a book about the history of grain cereals. Miranda looks confused about one of those two things.

“I am constantly plagued by the Ancient Greek Theoi and their various whims,” Nico explains.

“Your life confuses me,” Miranda responds. She hands him the book and the flowers. For once, Demeter’s gift seems to be the less volatile object of the two. “I’m going to go meditate about it.”

“Good call,” says Jason.

“Thank you,” Nico calls, belatedly, to her retreating back. He glances down at the flowers in his hand. “Jason,” he says, voice strained.

He sighs. “Oh, here we go.”

“Jason, I have to move.”

“You’re fine here,” Jason says patiently. He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder and begins to steer him towards the Big House. Nico, distraught, refrains from judo flipping him into a tree.

“I ruin everything I touch, Jason.”

“You helped out with the strawberries just fine last week.”

“Strawberries are not people, Jason.”

“The kids seem to like you. You let them keep weird skulls and rocks and shit they find in the woods, and they like that.”

“Children are not completely incomprehensible sons of the sun, Jason.”

“Will likes you. By his own admission. He thinks — and I’m quoting here — that you’re gorgeous, even when you’re glaring at him and rueing your own existence.”

Nico has nothing to say to that, because he still can’t quite believe that’s true. It’s — surreal. He had no arguments against it, because he knows, objectively, that Will was not lying, and he can see, with his eyeballs, that Will smiles every time they make eye contact, unless Nico did something stupid in which case Will is huffing and muttering about patients and demigods and how increased power is directly correlated with increased stupidity.

Mostly smiling, though.

At Nico. With love and affection and oh, gods, he is going to ruin things so bad.

“Look,” Jason says, stopping them in front of the porch. Nico takes the pause with equal parts relief and panic, turning to him with the flowers clutched to his chest. “You have — issues.”

Nico blinks, waiting for more sentence. Surely that cannot be all of it.

“…Yes,” he acquiesces, when no sentence is forthcoming. “I am an interloper in this timeline. I am an omen of death. I am —”

“Gods, you’re dramatic.”

Nico agonizes.

“You will be fine, Nico, please, I don’t even know what the hang-up is. He said he likes you, there is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you. Right?”

The rickety screen door of the infirmary bangs open, slamming against the frame, startling them both so hard they cause a slight earthquake.

“Oh, you got them, you got them!”

The overworked and overstressed whirlwind known as William Andrew Solace bursts out of the infirmary, tripping over his own shoes and nearly landing on his face had Jason not caught him.

“Woah, dude,” he says, steady hand on his waist. Nico reacts to that totally normally and Jason’s shadow does not at all try to swallow him. “What’s wrong?”

Will barely responds. “Nico, you are the best, I owe you forever —”

Stumbling out of Jason’s hold, he lunges over to Nico, plucking the flowers out of his hand and spinning right back to the infirmary. In total bewilderment, Nico and Jason follow him, watching as he tosses the bouquet in the air, hands glowing golden, and mutters a quick hymn. The flowers begin to droop, then wrinkle, then fully shrivel up, totally dead as they land back in his hands.

“What the fuck,” Jason whispers.

“Sun-dried is better, but I don’t have time,” Will frets. “Son of sun will have to do. Ha. You, and you, over here.” He points to the nurses desk with the yellowed stems, no trace of a question in his voice. The two of them scramble to comply, ducking under the half-door and standing awkwardly behind the counter as Will clears it off.

“That stupid prank — remind me to kill Cecil tomorrow, Nico, if you don’t mind — has three whole cabins covered in skin welts. I don’t have enough beds for them all, and they need to be quarantined, anyway. I haven’t had time to go get more ingredients in between cabins, let alone time to make more ointment.” Two massive stone mortars slam the counter, making both of them jump, followed by pestles with blunt heads roughly the size of Nico’s fist. “Pulverize the petals as fine as you can.” He splits the dead bouquet in half, handing them each six flowers each. “Petals only, no stems or seeds. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to gather it. Oh, and Nico —”

He pauses for a moment, taking a breath. Hesitantly, Nico reaches out and places a gentle hand on his wrist. Instantly, the worried line between his eyes melts away, and he smiles; tired but radiant.

“I owe you one,” he says softly. “You always know just what I need. I’ve been using rose, ‘cause that’s what we have, even though pink carnations is better, but we ran out an hour ago and I’ve been freaking out cause I —”

“Solace,” Nico interrupts. He squeezes gently. “Breathe.”

He does. Inhale, hold, exhale, breath tickling the hairs in Nico’s arm, causing goosebumps to bristle all over his skin. (The grateful smile pointed towards him at full power has nothing to do with that. Obviously.)

“I’m good. Just — thank you, Nico. You knew exactly what I needed.”

A loud groan sounds from somewhere to the east, in the vague direction of Cabin Ten, and Will rushes off without another word, medical bag stuffed to bursting. There’s a thump, and a quick, “I’m good!” and then the sound of running in flip-flops. Nico ducks his head to hide a smile, turning to the dried flowers.

“Well,” says Jason after a moment. “You tried.”

Nico shrugs. He starts plucking the petals off and dumping them in the mortar, Jason quick to follow his example.

“I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

———

part five

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your owner has a special request for you.

prompts. | Lloyd Hansen + Mob/Mafia + “I love hearing you beg. You’re much sweeter that way.” + Pet Play, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, mobs/mafias, kidnapping, pet play (puppy) (collar, plug/tail, tag), pet names, Sir kink, shoe grinding, orgasm (f), smut, begging, dirty talk, mild degradation, praise, mention/allusion to creampie, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Lloyd said you were collateral damage. He also said you were a witness to something you shouldn’t have seen. No matter his reasoning, it doesn’t change that he wanted you—and so he took you.

Lloyd Hansen—the mob leader and the city’s most feared man—always gets what he wants.

You’ve gotten used to the feeling of the plug in your ass, especially with the pretty tail connected to it. To him, you’re his little puppy. You wear a headband with matching ears and even a collar with a tag. His information is etched onto the metal.

With two snaps, your owner demands you come to him. You crawl on the hardwood floors and stop in front of him, behind his desk. Lloyd looks down at you approvingly, a smirk on his face. You think about how handsome he is as you admire him. You’re so very lucky.

“Attagirl. What an obedient little pet,” Lloyd praises and you give him a big smile. “Thank you, Sir,” you tell him, though you keep your voice small and quiet, just the way he likes it. 

One of Lloyd’s large hands reaches down, and he pats your head a few times. You lean into his warm touch as your body is stark naked except for your knee-high socks. Your cunt is dripping wet, staining your inner thighs. 

“Wanna play, puppy?” he asks, with pure mischief written on his face. You eagerly nod your head, and Lloyd smiles. He sits back in his chair and turns it to face you. “You’re gonna ride my shoe ‘til it’s nice and shiny—but you only get to come when I say so. Got it?” he tells you.

Your pussy throbs at his words. “Yes, Sir. I understand,” you say. “Good girl,” he hums, tapping the foot he wants you to straddle. You do as he says, resting your pussy on his expensive loafer.

Lloyd snaps his fingers three times, and you begin to grind your hips, rubbing your cunt on his shoe. “And I wanna hear those pathetic sounds, too, pet,” he demands, and you let yourself moan as loud as you want. Your swollen clit receives the perfect amount of attention, and your slick makes a mess everywhere.

Your owner looks down to make sure you’re doing a decent job. He nods approvingly, one hand palming his dick through his trousers. The other sifts through different files of upcoming targets—men who have been desecrating his territory for the last few weeks. 

The large office is filled with your garbled moans and adorable mewls, along with your cute whimpers that make Lloyd want to shove his cock into your mouth and fuck your face ruthlessly.

You continue gyrating your hips, picking up the pace when your orgasm starts to build up. You grab your owner’s leg and hold onto it, tugging on his pants just as bit as you stare up at him. The tag on your collar shakes with each movement, and Lloyd finally looks down at you. 

“Aw, are you gonna come already, puppy?” he questions, and you rapidly nod your head. “That quick, huh? Just a desperate little slut,” he growls, and you continue to nod. “Go on, you know what to do. Ask nicely,” Lloyd demands.

“Please, please, please, Sir. Please let me come!” you plead, and he snickers in satisfaction. Lloyd enjoys humiliating you—and after all that conditioning, you’ve come to like it, too. “Ah, I love hearing you beg. You’re much sweeter that way,” he sighs, and you can feel the elastic band in your stomach tightening.

“Go ahead. Make a mess on my shoe, pup,” he says, and you gasp in relief. “Th– Thank you, Sir! You’re the best owner,” you tell Lloyd, just as he likes to hear. You reach your climax, and your hips buck, clit throbbing as you soak your captor’s shoe in your juices.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he husks, and his dick is so hard that it hurts. Lloyd can’t just leave it like that—not when he’s got the perfect fleshlight in front of him.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you ride out your high. You continue thanking Lloyd, sounding like a broken record. Eventually, he shushes you, and he lifts you up with ease. You look down and nearly gasp at how shiny his shoe is. Lloyd simply chuckles.

He places you on his lap and unzips his fly, freeing his large cock out of its confines. He gives himself a few strokes as you settle on top of him. “If you’re extra good, pup, I’ll even come inside of you. How does that sound?” Lloyd asks.

Although you used to feel sick with humiliation at his treatment, his words make you even wetter. You eagerly tell him how much you’d love that. “I know you do, puppy.” 

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Can Ray be Redeemed? Is Sand the Solution?

I know Ray has upset a lot of people in Episode 8. I do find it really fascinating how quickly the tide has turned on him, especially when you compare his actions to those of our villains of the first arc: Boston and Top. Perhaps I'm in the minority, but I still choose to believe that Ray does care. He's hugely misguided but not heartless.

Let me firstly preface that none of what I'm about to say excuses Ray's behaviour but is an attempt to unpack why I still hold hope.

A child lost with no anchor

Ray is emotionally immature (which as cliché as it sounds, is a direct product of his upbringing - or lack thereof). He largely operates on basic needs, as a child would: 'I want. I need'. It's all based on serving the self. He seems wildly incapable of thinking very far beyond that. Like a child, he can barely take care of himself, let alone anyone else. He's pretty helpless on his own in a lot of respects. Most people grow out of this. Through knocks and hardship, we learn the world doesn't revolve around us and how to equip ourselves with healthy and appropriate means to navigate through life. Ray however, still seems to be stuck in his infantile box.

I often joke that Ray is a bit feral, but there is some truth to that. Ray's been left to his own devices for the majority of his life. So it's no surprise he's developed this 'me against the world' attitude which is volatile and defensive, but ultimately keeps him caged in said box.

These traits are abundantly apparent in his relationship with Mew. Ray is the vehicle for Mew's self-destruction, but all he sees is the exhilaration of having a 'partner in crime', someone to be in 'cahoots with'. Like a pair of naughty school kids getting into mischief, rather than an adult partnership. Ray is all about immediate gratification over long term fulfilment because (as children do), they don't possess the wisdom and experience to think ahead. Ray seems unable to grasp repercussions or consequences in his decision making. It's always act first, think second.

To put it simply, Ray hasn't been taught boundaries and how to respect them. He just gets criticised for crossing them which doesn’t help him learn. No one has had the patience to teach him why and how. To guide, to steer, to direct, to mentor. To educate rather than scold. Prevention rather than cure. As a result, everyone around Ray serves to clean up his messes rather than equip him with the ability to not create them in the first place. He falls into patterns of behaviour that no one has seriously attempted to break which has only amplified with adulthood. The longer those habits prevail, the harder they are to change.

Does Ray harbour ill-will or bad intent?

Is Ray the worst? In my opinion, no. (Not yet anyway - I might eat my words later, who knows). I've said this somewhere before but intent makes all the difference when judging someone's actions. Choosing to actively cause harm whilst being fully conscious of the impact versus triggering damage to occur as a symptom of your behaviour is vastly different. This is where Ray and Boston differ. Boston acts without remorse, he purposely and calculatingly makes choices that will cause the maximum degree of suffering. Whereas Ray's a loose cannon. He leaves a trail of destruction where he goes, due to a lack of control and means to channel how he feels in a constructive manner. Boston's victims are targets, whereas Ray's victims are collateral.

I don't think Ray means to purposely hurt or harm the people he cares about. Because in doing so, he'll push them away - which is precisely what he doesn't want. (Though saying that, Ray doesn't seem to give as much of a damn if it's people he isn't invested in, such as Top). Ray's world consists of what Ray needs. It's not that he doesn't care about a single person besides himself, he's just so wrapped up in his own needs to even gauge the bigger picture.

When others do point out to Ray that he's hurt them, he does tend to look guilty and taken aback, as if he's thinking, 'But I didn't know. No one told me. I had no idea my actions would cause you to be upset'. Painful levels of ignorance. But I also see a huge amount of internalised frustration. 'But why? Why didn't anyone explain this to me? How was I to know?'

Ray is capable of showing remorse, of displaying guilt. He's not cold-blooded. Anyone who can demonstrate compassion is capable of redemption. Ray is seen to be genuinely appreciative and grateful when people are good to him. He's fiercely protective over people he cares about. Ray was also willing to jump in when Sand gets a call from his mum being in trouble.

One thing I do have to stress is the difference in Ray's demeanour when he's severely drunk/high versus when he's sober. His addiction tends to amplify his most primal desires, his most 'childlike' traits. The uglier sides of Ray presented in their worst light, set to maximum. The raging tantrums, the absurd and unpredictable demands, an explosive and dangerous impulsiveness. People often refer to addiction as a form of sickness, which is worth noting when the person under scrutiny is effectively not well.

Learning by Example

Now let's talk about the huge importance of Sand in this equation.

Let me be clear - it's not Sand's responsibility to teach Ray how to grow up or behave more like a functioning adult. It's neither his duty to be a stand-in parent or caretaker. The unfortunate truth is that Ray doesn't have anyone in his life who plays that role. Who is the voice of reason. To keep him on the straight and narrow. In order to actually incite change, Ray needs to be receptive to whoever is trying to help him. We've seen he doesn't respond particularly well to the majority of people in his life. He's defensive with his father, his friends, deflective and pandering with Mew. The only person he's seen to show any signs of actually listening to and registering is Sand.

Whilst it's not fair on Sand, he might be the only person who has any real chance of encouraging healthy and positive growth in Ray. Because Sand loves Ray, he genuinely wants to see improvement for Ray's own good. I don't think it's a coincidence that we tend to see Ray's more endearing side when he's with Sand. His childlike qualities take on a sweeter, more harmless, playful tone.

He needs someone with an almost parental level of unconditional love to not give up on him, where others have thrown in the towel. Ray's character is essentially a personified cry for help. His mother was unable to cope. His father seems chronically exasperated and far too busy to actually be present. His friends have always seen him as bothersome and too much of a handful.

I personally don't want to write Ray off as a lost cause. Ironically, Sand may be the saviour he didn't ask for, but the one he really needs. Someone who can save him from himself.

[lesbianmaxevans]

meant to make a post months ago LOL but some heartbreak high jumbled thoughts (after watching thru a second time to refresh my memory LOL)

quinni is probably the best autistic rep I've ever seen. when she decided to stop masking her autism >>>>>> her speech during the debate >>>>>>>>>

ca$h is probably the best ace rep I've ever seen. ca$h and darren's relationship is literally everything I've ever wanted, I feel like ace characters are never allowed to date someone unless that person is also ace/celibate, so it means soooooooooooo much to me to see a relationship btwn someone who is very into sex and someone who is very uninterested in sex. and to see darren be so committed to their relationship even tho it's difficult just warms my heart so much

I think the way harper's trauma is depicted in s1 is really raw and beautiful. this show gives everyone the space to be messy and her spiraling after her bodily autonomy was taken away is very realistic and imo good to see. that being said I need girlie to get some therapy and form a healthier relationship with sex asap.

I am once again uncomfortable with a show about minors having so much explicit sexual content. whyyyyyyyy is this allowed

darren, quinni, malakai, and missy have never done anything wrong ever in their lives :) also missy and malakai are bisexual icons, I love them both so much

writers go to jail for the missy/spider plot. he spent all of s1 being such a vindictive asshole to amerie bc she rejected him and then he was publicly shaming missy (albeit thankfully w/o naming her) for the same reason. he's incessantly misogynistic and racist. he also had the idea of the fraudulent accusation of mrs obah sleeping with a student bc he wanted the slt classes cancelled!!! and fueled the reactionary bullshit that voss was trying to start. like whyyyyyyyy are the writers trying so hard to redeem him I'm sick of this (if he actually sticks to his speech in 2.08, I'll be thankful tho. I still won't like him lol but at least he won't be making everyone else miserable anymore)

ppl hate dusty too much. like yeah he undeniably was in the wrong for his part in starting the rumor about mrs obah and amerie. but imo he's put in more effort to altering his behavior (as seen by him being a safe person for darren to go to) than ant or spider and both of them were involved too and I don't see ppl at their throats like they are for dusty.

I live for chaos and drama so the malakai-amerie-rowan triangle was soooooo fun (altho I wish there hadn't been the extra drama with the rowan being "bird psycho". just stick to the love triangle messiness. also do not get me started on rowan threatening malakai WHAT WAS THAT why did the writers do that 😑 anyway I want rowan back in s3 and making amends w the ppl who were collateral damage in his revenge quest against amerie)

also re the love triangle mess, it seems like the writers are intending for amerie/malakai endgame and I do like them but I feel like the show did gloss over amerie's repeated boundary violations (which honestly was also a problem with her dynamic w harper in s1 too, like girl you have to let people come to you instead of badgering them into talking to you and trying to force them to confess things). like everyone repeatedly told her to give malakai space as he was processing that he was bi and she just kept hovering and trying to force him to open up. like.... girlie please he just needed some time to figure out his feelings.

sometimes the show wants to treat the women as #girlbosses when they actually do things that are really fucked. like I don't hate harper, but the speech she gave to embarrass dusty at the basketball game was really gross and the narrative treats it as epic and her standing up for herself when she and dusty took advantage of malakai not being sober and the fact that he was in a bad headspace after just being attacked by that cop. also the writers act like dusty deserved this just bc harper thought he was acting weird after the threesome like...... is he not allowed some time to process his feelings about a new experience??? like..... how did the narrative treat this as a #girlpower moment what the hell

the demonization of mental illness is pretty uncomfortable. we only really see the symptoms of harper's dad (and presumably rowan) when they are actively being a danger to people. like mental health issues that cause ppl to see delusions doesn't equal that person being violent but the show kind of ties their anger/violence to their mental illnesses... which is another reason as to why I hope rowan sticks around for s3. let's see more of him being soft while still acknowledging these symptoms.

amerie going back to save rowan is one of my fave moments. like she has come such a long way from the girl who aired out everyone's personal business :')

[seekingflowers]

[Closed]

Free Readings Info. Please read.

Hello folks,

Thank you all for the support and love. It's been so baffling to me that my first little pick a card reading ever got so many likes. I also wanna thank my good friend @occultwaters Selene for the love and support.

I've had my first dm about free readings, but for some reason, I can not reply to the person. It says this tumblr cannot accept messages - idk what's up with tumblr. You'll just have to go through the ask, I'm sorry.

Somethings I want to lay out.

1) This is free, I can make the choice not to do it for situations or questions I'm not comfortable with. That's why I'm allowing dms for now.

2) Be respectful. Whether it's the answer to the question or my refusal to read.

3) The answers to your questions, some things will not be favorable. It's just the truth. What I'm talking about here should not just be for me and my readings, but for other pages and in real life as well. Take it that you will.

I want you all to know that maybe some things should not be looked into, and it's for your own good. Think about it, "Do I really want to know the answer to this question?" If you feel something clouding your heart and mind, don't ask. I mean it.

I've seen too many people lose themselves over "Just a question." The thing about fate in my experience is that it's like a fabric, and asking a fortune teller to read for you is like poking a needle through it. Okay, it's just a poke. You keep asking for more and seeing others because you're not satisfied - that hole gets bigger, and the fabric and its embroidery begin to get messy. I've had my personal experience when I fucked with fate. I tried to go against it. Let's just say I nearly lost something so dear to me.

Also, there are just some things that aren't meant to be known. I will see what I am allowed to see and tell you what I am allowed to tell. If I go against the line, things will not be good for me. Some readers will walk that thin line, but I will not.

But... can things change? Yes! But for better or for worse? Then there are some things you can definitely not change, and going against it will not be good for you. Eff around and find out. You can avoid it for a while, but it will catch up. I've seen it come back around fairly quickly for those who decided to go against it. I was one of those people. It can definitely do a lot of collateral damage.

Be mindful of who you share your information and energy with. There are people who will not do good with your trust and will on purposely mess with your fate.

Again, take this what you will.

I will go ahead and add the disclaimer here too:

Divination does not replace legal, financial, therapy, counseling, or medical advice. Seek a licensed professional on these fields for advice. What you do will my readings is up to you and I'm not responsible.

[visualtaehyun]

Hey, with your Naughty Babe posts I was wondering if you have opinions on if the subs/translations are affecting the understandability of the plot for non-Thai speakers. It seems to me like the IQIYI subs are not great compared to Youtube, which is unfortunate because that’s where most people are watching. I’ve mostly been watching with the IQIYI subs and filling in holes with the novel plot, which works well enough for me. -diaospuppy (since we still can’t ask from sideblogs yet)

Hi there @diaospuppy ! ✨

I have a feeling my reply is gonna be lengthy so let's put a TL;DR here: Oh, most definitely!

Let me preface this: 1) I don't have access to iQIYI so I could only cross-check with 3rd party re-uploads that I assume come from iQIYI, subs and all?? 2) The subs on Youtube aren't perfect either but they're definitely good, considering translation can't be 1:1. 3) I'm not a native speaker, so I wouldn't be able to catch every single word reliably anyway, but knowing Thai for sure gives me more insight which is why I've been sharing a lot of what I hear and read on the show!

That said- I just scrolled through the Naughty Babe The Series tag for a bit and- yeahhh. It sure looks like people are struggling with the plot. 😅 This feels like Cutie Pie all over again. Why is the language barrier suddenly a 10ft. wall with these shows? Just how bad are iQIYI subs...

I'm gonna do the homework for everyone and use this opportunity to rewatch important scenes, compile the chess pieces, and clear up any weird subs I encounter along the way.

Let's go!

The tiger incident is the root of both Diao and Yi's issues AND of the debt that the Chens (Yi's family) took on to repay the Wongteerawits (Diao's family).

Yi's father Makorn took full responsibility for his son's mistake and has since been investing everything he can offer to make up for it: He's basically raised Yi to take care of Diao (hence why it's basically an arranged marriage), he dotes on Diao more than his own son, and he basically pays for everything the Wongteerawits ask for!

1) ตัวประกัน /dtua bpra gan/ is someone kept for bargaining purposes/insurance, so literally a hostage yeh 2) Diao's stepmom, on the phone with Sathaporn: "Having Kondiao as collateral/insurance doesn't help at all!"

The worst offender is Diao's uncle Sathaporn (and here we've got a case of both YT and iQIYI fucking up the subs):

The entire Wongteerawit family was witness to Yi's father Makorn gifting Diao the red BMW that Yi has the accident in. From left to right: Diao's stepmother Orn, his younger (half? step?-)siblings Tam and Tem, and his uncle Sathaporn.

Sathaporn is Diao's father Sattha's younger brother and he's been having an affair with his brother's wife Orn. They've been manipulating Sattha for years. Their aim now is to re-negotiate, for Yi and Diao's marriage contract, and what they want is- Oh, just, you know, everything-

The other schemester is Tem, Diao's younger (half?? step??-)brother.

Tem เทม, the brother, or Tam แทม, the sister? It's Tem เทม, the brother, as the YT subs on the left correctly state.

He's been sneaking around:

He acts according to his uncle Sathaporn's instructions - for the most part. Either he's just as stupid as the uncle and stepmom make Diao's father out to be oR mAyBe he's just a kid in over his head! 🥴 From what I understand, Tem's the one who messed with the BMW. With what intended outcome, I'm not sure (Kondiao would inherit half his father's land and all his possessions so killing him would guarantee Tem the Wongteerawit inheritance, at least?), and if he did it on the uncle's authority or not, I'm not entirely sure either.

Re: the BMW - wow, are the subs bad on iQIYI! Left YT, right iQIYI:

เรียน /riian/ = to learn VS. some genius: เหลียน Lian 💀

As for the engagement contract, the conditions are: - if they don't marry, - if either of them cheats, - if they marry but break up within 5 years the family to violate the contract has to compensate the other family. - If the Chens are at fault, they have to pay the Wongteerawits for the race track, - If the Wongteerawits are at fault, the Chens get full ownership of the race track.

In conclusion, it's all about the race track. The land is owned in part by the Wongteerawits, who had Makorn buy it for them, and in part by the Chens. Sathaporn currently has the documents to the Wongteerawits' title deed and he made sure to influence his brother to either leverage more out of the engagement contract or make sure to get the race track once they re-negotiate for Yi and Diao's marriage contract:

Yi and Diao thus are planning to make this entire situation end by ruining their own wedding - to the Chens' favor.

More bad subs, YT left vs. iQIYI right:

1) การใช้ชีวิตคู่ ไอ้อี้ /gaan chai chee wit kuu, ai Yi, [...]/ = Married life, Yi, [...] VS. some genius: การใช้ชีวิตกู(???) ไอ้อี้ /gaan chai chee wit guu, ai Yi, [...]/ = Living my life, ai Yi, [...] 2+3) No words, I don't know why they gave up on เป็นฝั่งเป็นฝา /bpen fang bpen fah/ = married, settled down

There's more bad subs in this scene but they're not plot-relevant so- Back to their plan! Yi feigns ignorance even in front of his dad because they need to make sure everyone believes it when Diao crashes the wedding. The only ones in the know are Kuea and Lian and they're separately involved via their respective best friends (hence the betting in ep. 6 lol).

YT subs know what's up, iQIYI subs are a lil confused it seems 🥴

Sidenote: Do iQIYI subs routinely skip over honorifics? Because YT usually makes sure to include them, at least when they're not strictly used as pronouns, for example:

คับบบเฮีย /khaaap hia/ = polite male ending particle which, if used by itself, denotes agreement + see the explanation for Hia here, I'm too lazy lol

The subs in this scene are especially meh, huh?? YT left, iQIYI right:

ฤกษ์โคตรเหมาะเลย /reerk khoht maw loey/ = what YT said basically, except more like- The auspicious date is damn fitting. VS. some genius: เลิก /leerk/ = stop ? โชค /chohk/ = luck(y) ?? ขมอง /kha maawng/ = thought, intellect ??? 🤨

Abandoning this scene now, I've had enough! Tumblr isn't allowing me any more pictures anyway, booooo. I've already noticed disparities in ep. 6 and even though it's mostly smut and fluff and shenanigans anyway, I still wanna come back to it in a second post, though this has already eaten hours of my time whoops 🙃

l guess anyone who reads this and has been confused about the plot so far, can chime in and let us both know 1) how much of what I wrote was news to them, 2) if they have any specific questions or questionable subs that come to mind, or 3) what exactly about the plot is a mystery to them.

Thanks for the ask, and thanks for reading!

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: *scratches neck* I'd like to promise you all that this is going somewhere. I'm trying my hardest.

C/W ::: Fighting between Kats and F!reader, general bad feels.

WC ::: Under 800

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part IV

You stayed at Katsuki's apartment for another couple of hours, both of you just sitting on the couch in near total silence. You wanted to talk. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. He wouldn't get it. You wouldn't be able to find the words that would make him see why you had to go.

It was the middle of the day when you finally stood up and went to the bedroom. You pulled the drawer open and looked at your clothes. They smelled like him. Like the two of you. It was a mixture of his natural scent and whatever laundry detergent you both used. It was a smell that you didn't think you'd ever get out of your nose.

You took a deep breath and grabbed handfuls of shirts, pants, bras, underwear. You shoved them into your bag and walked out to the kitchen, where Katsuki was standing over the sink. He didn't look up at you. He was looking down at the key in his hands. You could see his eyes were red and swollen. He had been crying, or trying his hardest not to.

He looked up at you and nodded. "You feel better now?" Katsuki asked you. You stood there, eyes and arms wide, holding all of the stuff you gathered up and put in your bag.

"W-what do you mean, do I feel better now? Of course I don't. Why the fuck would I feel better?" You had no idea why he was asking you that. But you were very in tune with him, still, and had a feeling that he was about to explain the reason behind his question. Though it really felt more like an accusation.

Katsuki shrugged and turned back to the sink, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling the top of it like he always does when he's pissed about something. "Well, I don't know. Sometimes you act like you're the only one who has shit they want to run away from. Like you're the only little princess in the world who's got shit on her plate that she don't wanna eat. You think I don't wanna run away? Well, news-fuckin'-flash, darlin'. I fuckin' want to." He was almost yelling.

Your shoulders slumped at his words. "Is that ... that's what you think? That I don't want to eat something on this plate of life and I'm just scooping it off into the garbage and then fishing around for dessert? Y'know, you have a lot of fuckin' nerve comin' at me like this. Insinuating that I'm selfish. You had a fucking bed built into the wall of your shiny new office -"

"That's my job, y/n! It's a part of my goddamn life. A huge part! Why can't you differentiate between my job and my personal lif-" He started.

"Because YOU couldn't! Katsuki, Jesus. You were the one that couldn't turn your cell off at dinner. And that's when you were home for dinner. There were times you didn't come home for days at a time. Why wasn't I a huge part of your life? Don't you start in on that shit about how I didn't know how to separate the two. I can separate plenty." You put your hand over your mouth at the explosion of words that came.

"Yeah," he huffed. "I can see that." He said, sounding so defeated it broke your heart all over again. "Meanwhile, I'm here, holding shit together. Cleaning up the shrapnel of your goddamn collateral damage. I'm not the one who hurt you. You're a selfish brat. When the spotlight isn't on you for 5 seconds, you throw a hissy fit and move on." He was throwing his arms around now. You could see that eternal fire burning out of control in his eyes.

"I'm ... what the fuck. I'm selfish? I'M selfish?! And what collateral damage? What shrapnel are you having to clean up? I'm pretty sure that I left no mess in my wake." Your eyes were narrowed so much you could barely see him anymore.

"Oh, you left a mess all right. A fuckin' tsunami leaves less damage than you." He laughed a little at his analogy but quickly sobered up, letting the smile subside to make room for his classic scowl.

"A tsunami?" You repeated, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me? What did I do to deserve that comparison? I was the one who was always here for you. I was the one who went out of my way to make sure you had a warm meal to come home to. And half the time you didn't even call to tell me you weren't going to be home when you thought you'd be or that you weren't going to be home at all."

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to wipe that stupid scowl right off of his stupid face. But he was always 2 steps ahead of you. He knew your tells. What your breaking points were. Katsuki always saw them coming from a mile away.

You started to cry. You couldn't believe that this is where you'd ended up. That this was the final scene in your love story.

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel

[annoyinglandmagazine]

You were never the one to suffer

Summary: Elrond goes on a bit of a rant.

Elrond was striking a pummel aggressively down his sword, a sword which he should not have had that night and Thranduil was very confused as to how he’d hidden it under such a sheer gown. He did not acknowledge Thranduil’s presence instead continuing with his task while staring out at the lights that flickered in the city below.

‘Do you have any idea of what you did in there? My father is not going to let something like that go, there will be repercussions for your king, why I’d be surprised if he didn’t fire you from his staff for this! Why you decided it was anything but egregiously offensive to wear that brooch tonight I could not begin to fathom, but the least you could have done is show respect to Ada’s perfectly reasonable response rather than lose your temper like that!’

Elrond acted as if he had not heard a word of this tirade and when he spoke his voice was soft and clear with a sharp cut to every carefully enunciated word, punctuated by the rhythmic slam unto his blade, a far cry from the passionate indignation that had bled through his words while speaking to king Oropher. ‘You know,’ his face was concealed by a curtain of black that must at some point have been pulled out of its braid, ‘when I was younger I thought there was something wrong with me. That there was some reason that I wasn’t deserving of the kind of love that children are meant to get, the all encompassing love that comes before all else. My parents may have been good people, and I cannot judge their decisions, but I find it hard to believe that someone who considered their children their highest priority would have left them in the position my brother and I were left in. I know I couldn’t have done that to any children of mine even if it were the right decision.’

He turned now and his voice began to shake with anger while tears began to slip past his lashes and onto his cheeks, ‘I try to understand and be aware of other people’s experiences but I was six and I would have died if I wasn’t lucky that Maglor was in a charitable mood and that he found us first. I should have died at six because my life and the lives of countless other innocents were considered collateral damage in a war over a fucking shiny rock by my own mother when she held onto that silmaril. And I still try to empathise with and love her and my father because they might have been right.’

‘I loved them to! I loved the kinslayers! They were monsters but they were there, they raised me, taught me, loved me but I still came second to those rocks! Because I’m never going to be enough! For anyone. I’m going to keep trying to be every age of this world, but people will always leave me. Because I’m too fragile to be a reason to stay. And don’t you dare try to tell me you know shit about how I should feel or deal with any of that because you don’t. You don’t and neither does he. And neither do I but I have more of a right to make a mess of it than he does.’

[bi-bard]

Birdy - Dick Grayson Imagine [Titans (HBO)]

Title: Birdy

Pairing: Dick Grayson X Reader

Word Count: 1,755 words

Warning(s): choking, violence, possession, mention of murder

Summary: (Season 2, Episode 1) Dick and (Y/n) had been friends for years. When Rachel becomes the reason that the pair find each other again, they have to face what had always been true about their relationship.

Author's Note: I couldn't help myself.

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

Taking care of Rachel should've worried me more than it did.

She was being followed and hunted by a group that none of us had heard of. She also had powers that none of us understood, and she wasn't sure she could control.

It should've scared me.

But I'd look at her and my heart would break. She was a kid. An innocent kid that had the weight of the world forced onto her shoulders.

I couldn't leave her.

Which meant that I packed a duffel bag and took off with Dick to try and keep the girl safe.

I would like to think that I would've reacted just as fast if Rachel had found me on her own. But it would be a lie to say that Dick had no influence on how quickly I joined them.

The scariest moment of it all was trying to get back to Rachel when we realized just how close her father was.

We tried to get to her as fast as possible. Dick was driving, I was in the passenger seat, Donna and Kory were sharing the back.

"She's gonna be okay," I tried to comfort Dick as he sped toward Rachel's mom's house.

I don't think it worked much. Maybe if I had believed myself, it would have worked better. I just didn't have time for that.

I think I got out of the car before it fully stopped moving. The house was covered in some kind of invisible shield or something.

Dick and I shared a look before taking off sprinting forward. The moment we hit the barrier was the moment my surroundings completely changed.

I found myself on a rooftop in Gotham City. I looked around, trying to figure out why I was there. Nothing was clicking. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there. Time felt like a mess.

I... I had been in Ohio. I was looking for Rachel. Rachel was in danger. I needed to get to her. I needed to protect her.

I looked down at the street below me when I heard a truck's brakes screech. A man got out of the driver's side before pulling the back door open.

"Oh," I mumbled.

I remembered this night.

I had escaped from my... home... I guess... with my sister. I had gotten her out before they could test on her like they did on me. I had worked so hard to protect her, only for her to get killed before I could save her.

This man was the hired gun that hadn't even been aiming for her. She was just collateral damage.

I had tracked him down to this building. I was going to get him to tell me where the man who hired him was and then turn him over to the police.

"(Y/n)."

I turned around to see Dick standing there.

That made sense.

He had tried to stop me because he thought I was going to get killed. I was outnumbered. This was the first night I had called him Birdy.

But his age... his age was wrong. Dick should've been younger. A teenager. He was fully grown now. That wasn't... That wasn't right.

"Dick?"

"Get him," he nodded toward the edge of the roof. "Kill him. You waited so long."

"What," I scoffed. "No. No. I... I don't kill people, Dick. If... If I kill them, I'm no better than them."

"But you want to," he stepped forward. "You have power, (Y/n). Use it."

"Dick-"

"Your fear and anger... remember how that felt?" he muttered. "The darkness?"

I shook my head. "No. No. I don't use my powers like that."

Another step forward gave me a clear view of his face. His eyes were pitch black. Darkness looked like it was traveling in the veins around them.

"Dick..."

"It's a shame," he said. I gasped as he grabbed my throat. "I was just trying to help you."

He threw me across the roof to the far edge, away from the street. I slid a bit, groaning at the feeling.

I pushed myself up slowly.

Dick was standing in front of me. His fists were clenched.

"Dick-"

"Do it."

"What?"

"Fight me," he snapped. "Go ahead. Embrace the desire. Give in-"

"No," I shook my head.

He ran at me. I ducked under his arms, taking a few steps away from him and turning back to him.

"What happened to you," I asked. "Who did this to you?"

"I embraced who I am," he said, getting right in my face.

"No... No... this isn't who you are," I shook my head.

"Then, how could I kill Bruce?"

I was stunned by the response.

Dick's hand wrapped around my throat again. He lifted me up enough to slam my back to the ground. His other hand joined the first.

"Stop me," he instructed. "Do it. Use your power, kill me, and save yourself."

I scratched at his hands.

"You really wouldn't embrace your darkness to save yourself?"

“I-I’m not going to kill you, Dick,” I said, letting my hands just sit on his. “I never could.”

His dark eyes felt like a dare. Pushing me to say that this wasn’t the real Dick. That killing him would mean nothing. It would feel good to kill him.

No.

No matter what state he was in… that was my Dick Grayson. The same boy who would race me around the streets of Gotham. The boy that had fought next to me more times than I could count. The boy who helped me control my powers without fear. The boy who I was still absolutely in love with.

Dick Grayson. Birdy.

“You’re weak,” his voice was distorted as his hand pushed harder into my neck.

I gasped, “No.”

My hands latched onto his arm.

He almost snarled at me as he pressed harder.

I felt my eyes closing as I stared up at him. He looked so angry. Angry, dark, empty… so lost.

I dug my nails into his skin as I muttered one last thing, “I forgive you.”

It almost felt like I blinked.

One moment, my neck was being crushed and I was dead. The next, I was waking up on the floor of Angela’s house, gasping in an attempt to catch my breath.

I looked around.

It was a disaster inside. Shelves and furniture were broken, the windows had been smashed out. But it was empty. Empty and quiet.

I pushed myself off the ground, running outside. I found almost everyone else lying on the porch. Gar wasn’t. He was standing in the grass, looking out at the scene in front of him.

I stepped down to where he was and followed his line of sight. I saw Dick and Rachel hugging in the distance. A cloud of smoke behind them.

As the team slowly woke up, Dick turned back around and started walking back.

He froze for a moment. He was still kind of far away, but I assumed it was because of me.

He took off running after Rachel shoved him a bit.

Once I was certain he was running toward me, I started running too. I felt a sob escape my lungs as I was pulled into a tight hug.

“I thought you were dead,” Dick mumbled in my ear. “I thought I lost you.”

I stepped back, wiping my eyes before lightly hitting his upper arm. “Oh, come on, Birdy, can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He let out a chuckle as he grinned at me.

His hands cupped the sides of my face. I felt my heart rate skyrocket at the feeling of his hands on my skin.

“Dick-“

He cut me off by leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. I froze for a few moments before slowly kissing him back and laying my hands on his chest.

I had imagined this before. Every time I did, I shook the thought away and assumed that I was dumb to even think about such a thing. I thought that I was never going to get the chance.

But now, it was happening. And no image of my imagination could’ve done it better.

He was passionate.

He had clearly been longing for this moment just as much as I had. He seemed content in whatever little world was constructed around us while his lips moved with mine.

I slowly pulled back, not moving very far. Just far enough to talk.

His thumbs ran over my skin. It was almost enough to make me lose my train of thought.

“We… We should get back… to the group.”

“Right,” he replied, stepping away fully.

He grabbed my hand as we started walking over. I looked down at our hands for a moment before looking back up at the group.

Everyone seemed mostly okay.

Except for Gar, who had cuts and bruises on his face from an event I wouldn’t know about until later.

I let go of Dick's hand to pull Rachel into a hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, hugging me back.

I kissed the top of her head before stepping back. I stopped for a moment when I saw the gem on her forehead.

I motioned to it. "That's very cool."

She chuckled at me. "Thanks."

"You are so cool."

She fully laughed at that. "You're cool too."

"Aw, we'll work on your lying ability."

We hit the road soon after that. Dick and I loaded up in a car with Rachel, Gar, and Jason.

"What's your plan," I asked after a little bit of time on the road.

Dick hummed, glancing at me for a moment.

"I mean... we're heading to Gotham City so Jason can get home... but then what?"

He paused for a moment like he was weighing the options for the first time.

"I... I need to talk to Bruce about something," he muttered. He was nervous.

I nodded. "Okay."

He shifted a bit in his seat, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Hey," I reached over and grabbed one of his hands. He let me pull it away from the wheel. "I'm gonna be right here. You aren't alone."

A small grin pulled at his lips. I pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

I smiled at him before turning to look out the front window again.

He was the best thing I had. The best thing I had ever had. I wanted to prove that to him.

And I would stop at nothing to be the same thing for him.

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

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[words-are-fireproof]

Souls Heal Less Readily (Javier Pena x fem!reader)

*gif by @azertyrobaz

Summary: Javier keeps it together long enough to see you, but when he finally lets you touch him, he lets go of that carefully curated control.

Rating: T

Length: almost 2.1k

A/N: So, I have @pedrito-friskito to blame for this one. She said, and I quote: "I feel like if you tried to hug him after this he'd try to be all manly and tough and gruff and "no don't touch me it's fine" and then if you persisted and were just like no he'd eventually just break down in your arms" and that's where this came from.

This is my first full length reader fic. It's not that great, but I like it ish. lol I'll let y'all be the judge.

This also might, uh, end up being more than one part. We'll see what NaNo brings me.

Edited to add: I don't do tag lists because I have a goldfish brain. Please follow @fireproof-library all my fics without the mess.

[Masterlist] || [Part Two]

-----

You weren’t expecting to see him that night. 

He’d told you before that he was going after some spotters, a bunch of kids who’d been conned into working for Pablo Escobar for one reason or another. You never questioned the motives of some people. You knew how hard it was to get money in Medellin. You knew how hard it was for people to make it there, how hard it was for families to get out when the drug war became violent and bloody. You never questioned kids who had known nothing but living on the streets, running around in gangs just trying to survive. 

But you did question the police.

You questioned the way they did things. Many nights were spent spitting vitriol when you knew all he wanted to do was drown in your body. Instead, you gave him grief. You didn’t question his motives. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the best one. He wanted to catch Escobar and minimize the damage. He knew what that hijo de puta was capable of. The bad thing was, everyone knew what Escobar was capable of, but corruption ran so rampant, there wasn’t much he could do. Besides, he was just a gringo. He looked the part and had the name, but his hands were tied. One man couldn’t fight the entire cartel machine. 

That didn’t stop him from trying. 

You’d tried to tell him that he couldn’t keep doing this. You two never labeled whatever it was between you and you never questioned it. But you did like to think that maybe, just maybe, you had some semblance of say in what he did. You knew, though, that it was a fool’s errand. You couldn’t change his mind, it’d been set for far longer than you’d known him, far longer than you’d been alive, probably. He didn’t have anything else in his life. All he knew was this job. He had tunnel vision. You couldn’t blame him, but you wished he would listen. None of this would end well for him. You could see it now. If Escobar didn’t get him, someone or something would. 

When he showed up at your doorstep, impossibly still, hands shoved in his leather jacket, you knew Escobar was no longer the enemy you needed to worry the most about. Sure, the cartel leader had a hand in it, but this was something different, and it scared the shit out of you. 

“Javi, ” You began, your voice breathless and worried, “¿Qué pasó?” 

He shook his head and brushed past you. The balm in the air clung to that leather as it touched the bare skin of your arm. It should have felt warm. Why did it send chills down your spine? 

You shut the door behind him, watching him closely as he shucked the jacket off and hung it up on a coat rack balanced precariously outside the doorway to your kitchen. Everything about him appeared off. His dark eyes, always so warm when he was with you, looked hollow and haunted, the blacks of his pupils bleeding into the brown irises dangerously. The muscle in his jaw kept clenching, over and over again like he was forcing himself to keep calm. Maybe he was. Maybe that’s why his body wasn’t a flurry of movement. If he didn’t keep himself still, what would become collateral damage? 

“Javi,” you tried again, keeping your voice metered and quiet, just barely above a whisper. “What happened?” 

He sat down on the sofa underneath the window. His entire body slumped into the well-loved and broken-down cushions. The street lamp which shined in from the window cast his face in shadow. You wait for the penny to drop, the tension high in the small living room as you sit down on the small coffee table in front of him. He’s still incredibly still, body no longer keyed up with energy like normal and it sends spikes of anxiety through you. He’s never like this. Even on bad days when you know things have gone topsy turvy, he’s usually reaching for you. You never question it. You like when he reaches for you. You would rather he reach for you instead of someone else, but you don’t have much of a say in that. 

You have your vices and you know he does, too. Your vice is him. You don’t ask about his, but you already know. 

You lean forward, a tentative hand reaching for his jean clad knee. He moves his leg before you can touch him. A sharp pang of sadness shoots through you. You try not to think about it, but you can’t help it. He drowns in you and your body so readily. To starve you of your desire to help him makes you worry. It was so unlike him. You tried to hide the shake in your hand as you settled it back in your lap. Your eyes roam his face, searching for some sort of answer. 

It couldn’t be you, could it? You weren’t the one he was upset about, were you? You have your secrets just like he did, but he didn’t discover them inadvertently through the spotters. Surely he couldn’t have. You hid yourself well, and you knew that if he ever discovered who you really were and what you were really capable of, he would never come back to you. The fear of him discovering that shakes you to your very core, but still you sit. That coffee table bruising your tailbone the longer you stay sat there. You try not to show your discomfort. You don’t know what he would do if you tried to sit next to him. 

He’d move away from you, that’s what he would do. You don’t want that. You want him to seek you out. You want him to fill that hole that is beginning to form in your heart. It’s a hole being gnawed apart by anxiety and fear. 

You silently beg him to reach for you. Say something. Do something. You can’t sit there in silence any longer. The blood in your veins rushed like a freight train in your ears.

You always hated the silence. 

“Javi–”

“Fucking kids, man.” 

You feel your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sudden utterance of words. His voice sounds distant, rough with an emotion you can’t quite place, but it bites at you. It burrows under your skin and makes its home there. It does nothing for the gnawing, gaping hole that keeps getting bigger and bigger in your chest.

“The spotters were kids, si,” you begin slowly, somehow keeping your voice even and calm, “You told me that already, querida.” 

“They shouldn’t be involved.” 

“I know that. I know they shouldn’t be. But Javier…can you blame them?” 

His dark brown eyes flick sharply over to you, gazing at you with a cold hardness you’ve never seen before. “Are you making excuses for that fucking pendejo?” 

“You know I’m not. It’s just…some of them have no other choice. You know that. I know that.” 

He shook his head and raked his strong hand through his curling chocolate locks. “It doesn’t make it right.” 

“I know. It’s so unfair.” 

“It’s worse than unfair,” he said with a wavering voice. You felt your heart cracking in two. The sensation of yearning flooded your body. You found yourself praying to a God you weren’t sure existed. Please tell me what’s wrong. Please tell me what happened.

“Javier, ¿Qué pasó?” You asked again, taking the risk and sliding into the empty space beside him on the sofa. 

“You…don’t want to know, princesa.” 

You took a breath and scooted closer to him, laying a hand on his thigh to steady him. 

You squeeze his thigh gently, signaling that you’re there for him. You aren’t going anywhere. “Yes, I do.” 

For a breath of a pause, you wait. You expect him to come unglued. You expect him to pull away from your touch. You think a lot of things will happen, but instead, you feel his breath shuddering through him, ragged and tattered. And suddenly, he’s turning into your chest and burying his face there. His warm tears soak through the thin shirt you pulled on hastily before his arrival. 

The emotions surprise you. In all the years you’ve known him–ever since he arrived in Medellin–you’ve never known him to show emotions like this. He blew off steam by bending you over and claiming you as his until you couldn’t breathe or move, your muscles sore for days afterward because of his voraciousness. You never complained. You liked it. He was good at it, and in those moments, he showed you a vulnerability you never saw at any other time.

Until now. 

Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tug him impossibly closer to your body, sliding into the solid expanse of his lap and settling there in the hopes that your weight would ground him. The progress of his arms around your midsection was slow, but he eventually wrapped his arms around you, locking his fingers on your hip and tugging you so close, you swear you could feel his heartbeat against your side. Your hand buries itself into his thick, dark hair, caressing gently as he lets go of his carefully curated control. His shoulders shake in you grasp and he lets them. Tears continue to soak into your chest. 

There’s nothing you want to say to him to quell his overflow of emotions. You don’t want to break the tension. You don’t want him to begin rebuilding those walls. Besides, you think you know exactly what happened tonight and no amount of words can soothe that hurt. 

You don’t know how long you sit there on that thread bare couch, settled in his lap, a hand in his hair as you felt him break apart in your arms. But soon enough, his breathing evened out and your shirt began to dry as his tears stop flowing. He lifted his head from your chest to peer at you through red rimmed eyes, cheeks tear stained, his moustache damp and glistening. You gently brush your thumb over the wiry hairs to swipe away the dampness there. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” he said, his voice rough with emotions. 

“Why are you apologizing, Javi?” 

A dry mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. “You didn’t expect me to cry all over you tonight.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t, but it’s okay. You needed it.” 

He fell quiet for a moment, thumbs brushing over your hip where his hand is settled. “Thank you for not asking.” 

“Shh.” You settle a finger on his lips to silence him. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Or maybe you won’t. That’s okay, too.” 

Javier pressed the tiniest of kisses on your finger and you can’t help but duck your head into a cutesy little smile, sure your cheeks are painting pink at the little gesture. 

“How was your day today?” 

You shrug elaborately, still caressing his hair gingerly. “It was okay.” 

“Just okay?” 

You couldn’t tell him how it really went. You didn’t want to make him angry. He’d been through enough and right now, the only thing you wanted to do was make him feel better. Maybe one day you’d tell him. Maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe he’d find out in the most inoportune way. Whatever the case, you weren’t going to tell him now. 

“Yeah, just okay.” You pressed a little kiss to the crease between his eyebrows. When you pulled back, the crease was gone, smoothed by your lips and your calm demeanor. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

He shook his head and tugged you closer. “Not right now, princesa.” 

Silence enveloped you both. The sounds of the city outside your window sounded faint and weak. You tried to ignore them, but you still heard the distant pops of far away bullets, the ever present reminder of the drug war you both were ensconced in. His body jolted at the gunshots, his hands digging into the firm curve of your hip so hard you were sure you would bruise. You let him bruise you. Bodies healed. Souls did so less readily. 

And you were quite certain you would do more than bruise his soul soon enough.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 54!

“Zay, can we talk? About what happened before?” Stiles asked her in a hushed voice as they walked out of the school towards the Jeep.

Zaida took in a shaky breath, her heart caving in on itself within her chest at the mere mention of what had happened. The image of her best friend and the boy she cared so much for, so close together, was burned behind her eyelids. Every time she blinked it was there, reminding her of her stupidity. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

“About what?” She feigned ignorance, walking faster so he couldn’t see the barely concealed pain on her face.

“Zaida, you…come on, you know what.” He hurried after her, stumbling over his words. All that was running through his head now was, how was he going to fix this?

“No actually, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She insisted, clearing her throat when her voice came out far more hoarse than she would have liked.

She couldn’t understand why he would flirt with her when his heart still belonged to the redhead. Had she been imagining it? Had she been delusional this whole time? Had he done it on purpose to mess with her? But no, Stiles wasn’t like that. He’d given up on Lydia and had settled for her instead - for the girl who was always there. For the easy option. Then when Lydia had made her move, Zaida had just fallen away - not even a real competitor, just collateral damage. It was the only explanation that made sense. Anger crackled and burned within her, casting a dark soot over all the memories she cherished - all of the times she spent with Lydia and Stiles. They were corrupted now, only serving as a reminder of what might have been if she was enough.

But Zaida had never been enough. She wasn’t smart or athletic enough. Not enough to make a real difference in anything. Not like Xander, who was a powerhouse in both areas and had fought off Deucalion on his own to escape that night at the mall when she had failed. She wasn’t cautious enough. Not for Xander, who had always wanted her to be more careful. To be more selective. More cynical. To be a hunter as he was. To be like Allison. She wasn’t enough of anything for Stiles. Stiles wanted Lydia, and Zaida was nothing like Lydia. She was just there. Was that all she was? A placeholder for him?

“Please, Zaida, at least just let me explain-” Stiles begged her, desperate to clear the air.

“If you keep talking,” Zaida quickly interjected, her jaw clenching. She was spiralling and she knew it, but she couldn't afford to - they had more important matters to deal with. “I’m going to make an extra thick icicle with a really sharp tip, and I’m going to shove it, right up your-”

“Okay, okay! I’m shutting up!” He interrupted before she could finish her vulgar description, his face twisting at the thought of such a method of torture.

Zaida climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep, and when Stiles joined her in the driver’s seat his shoulders were sagging and his energy was flat. The emotions that echoed through his door in her were only a further admission of his guilt and Zaida didn’t want to feel it anymore. She thrust her blocks firmly into place, shutting him out completely as she turned her knees towards the car door, fixing her gaze out the window.

She wasn’t enough. Not enough. Never enough. She never would be.

“It has to be on a telluric current, or maybe even at the axis of two, or where they all intersect. We just know it's where Derek took Paige to die.” Stiles explained to the others as they peered at the marked map of Beacon Hills that was spread over one of the metal tables at the clinic.

“My dad and Gerard were there, once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was...And, my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now.” Allison swallowed, her eyes bloodshot the only evidence that she had been crying.

“Yeah, mine either.” Stiles added morosely, finding it hard to focus when Zaida was on the other side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she refused to even look in his direction. From the looks exchanged between their friends, they all noticed the tension.

“Lydia’s heading back from the loft now. We thought Peter and Derek - or at least one of them - would remember how to get there but apparently not. Talia Hale took the memory from them somehow.” Zaida added, her hazel eyes simultaneously dull and simmering with quiet rage. The redhead had messaged her the information and Zaida hadn’t bothered replying with anything other than ‘meet at the clinic’.

“Then how do we find this place?” Issac chimed in from over Stiles’ shoulder.

“There might be another way…” Deaton looked apprehensive. “But it's dangerous. We're gonna need Scott.”

“Well Scott hasn’t been answering his messages.” Stiles revealed bitterly.

“The alphas are hunting your sister,” Zaida turned to the veterinarian. “Morrell was missing from her office, but it didn’t look like there’d been a struggle so I don’t think she was taken. I think she ran. Where would she go?”

“If she was running? She’d want to be in the one place where she’d have the advantage. The woods.” Deaton stated, retaining his serene demeanour.

“Then that’s where we’ll find Scott. Once we’re close enough I can track him down,” Zaida tapped on the side of her head, indicating she’d be able to sense him.

“There he is,” Zaida pointed out the approaching figure as sticks snapped beneath her boots.

“What are you guys doing here?” Scott questioned them, emerging from the brush. “I could hear you from a mile away!”

“That was kind of the point,” Zaida tilted her head at him. “We need your help to find the Nemeton.”

“How’d you guys find out?” His brows met together in curiosity.

“Lydia’s drawings.” Stiles answered. “You?”

“Morrell. None of the other Alphas know where it is, either.” Scott shared with a grimace.

“So, if this works, are you gonna tell them?” Stiles eyed his best friend warily. He didn't like the trust Scott seemed to be placing in them, especially considering Deucalion was after Zaida. In his mind, that was clearly a conflict of interest.

“I can't stop Jennifer without them.” Scott reasoned with a sigh, indirectly answering Stiles’ question.

“How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?” Deaton interjected before any of them could get carried away.

“What's the plan?” The werewolf asked.

“Essentially, you, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents.” As the words left Deaton’s mouth Zaida’s head snapped towards him in alarm. He hadn’t mentioned that.

“We die for them?” Scott clarified with a stunned expression.

“But he can bring us back!” Stiles exclaimed, then turned to Deaton to double check. “...You can bring us back, right?”

“You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?” The man pursed his lips. “If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds...But, there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous ritual for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet - it attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon.”

“Doesn't sound worse than anything we've already seen…” Stiles shrugged, brushing it off.

“You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see.” Deaton warned, and Zaida’s stomach churned uncomfortably. She didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

“Is that it?” Scott questioned, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No. It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it...every day, for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of...darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar.”

“...Like a tattoo.” Scott mumbled, rubbing the bands inked into his arm.

“At this point, we’re out of options. It’s either we do this, or our parents die.” Stiles reminded them all of what was at stake.

“I’m in,” The werewolf nodded decidedly.

“You’ll each need something that belonged to your parent - something important to them, but also something to connect you to them. Something that holds a lot of sentimental value.” Deaton advised them.

“We’ll meet back at the clinic when you guys are done.” Zaida instructed and returned the way they had come without another word. Deaton followed after her, leaving both of the boys behind to gather the required items.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Scott asked Stiles once the girl was out of earshot, picking up on her chemosignals.

“Yeah, she walked in on me and Lydia and now she’s pissed and she’s refusing to talk about it.” Stiles let out a heavy sigh, frustrated with himself.

“You and Lydia?!” Scott repeated, his brown eyes widening.

“Nothing happened!” Stiles exclaimed insistently, his arms flailing about expressively. “Well, something…something almost happened, and that ‘almost something’ was what Zaida saw.”

“What do you mean something almost happened?” The beta was outraged. “I thought you were done with Lydia! Don’t you like Zaida now?”

“I am done with Lydia. If anything, whatever almost happened today just confirmed that I have zero feelings for her whatsoever. She grabbed my face and came really close like she was going to kiss me,” Stiles suddenly reached out and gripped Scott’s face, mimicking the redhead’s earlier actions. The werewolf looked mildly uncomfortable and very confused. “And at that point, I just felt nothing, and I knew that even if she wanted me, I don’t want her anymore. I just want Zaida, more than I’ve wanted anything.”

“Really? Even more than you used to want Lydia?” Scott questioned, still only inches away from his best friend’s face.

“Yes! Even more than the erasure of the absolute heresy that is the Star Wars sequels!” Stiles insisted, grip tightening on the werewolf’s face.

“Why are we still doing this?” Scott asked, referring to their close proximity.

“I don’t know. I honestly thought you’d push me away a long time ago.” The boy admitted and Scott slapped his hands away, stepping backwards.

“Bro, you’ve gotta fix this.” Scott urged his best friend, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I know! It would be a lot easier if she’d actually talk to me about it.” He huffed. “And right after things were finally starting to get somewhere too!”

“What do you mean?” The werewolf questioned, frowning once more on confusion.

“Last night, at the hospital, we kind of had a moment…” Stiles revealed, cheeks warming at the memory of it.

“A moment?” Scott repeated, a slow and amused smile spreading over his face.

“A moment! You know, like a vulnerable conversation - a moment! It was a moment!” Stiles snapped erratically, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, we were talking about the deep stuff, you know? And then- well, then I started flirting with her a bit. Just to test the waters, you know? And then…well, then she started flirting back and it was awesome.”

“And then you ruined it.” Scott nodded as he followed along.

“Yes, Scott, thank you for the reminder.” Stiles narrowed his eyes bitterly.

“She probably thought that the something that almost happened, did happen.” The werewolf continued.

“Yes, I am aware.” The boy scowled, not really needing to hear what he already knew.

“She probably thought that you were messing with her.” Scott added and at that Stiles froze.

“What? Where- Where’d you get that from?” He spluttered. Was that really what she thought? That he'd just been playing with her feelings?

“It’s what I would have assumed, if I were in her shoes.” Scott shrugged.

“But- that’s not true at all!” Stiles protested irritably. Also, since when did he go to Scott for girl advice? And since when was Scott’s girl advice actually good?

“But Zaida doesn’t know that!” The beta pointed out. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but he really couldn’t draw together a solid argument against that. He ended up sealing his lips with a loud huff of annoyance.

“I’ll fix it, okay? But how are you going to fix this mess you’ve gotten yourself into? Joining the alpha pack? Seriously? How could you think that was a good idea?” Stiles shifted topics, putting his best friend on blast for abandoning them the night before. “You know, this pack is like the mafia - once you join, the only way you’re leaving is in a body bag.”

“I’ve got a plan, Stiles. You’ve just gotta trust me.” Scott assured him, promise behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what Zaida said,” He muttered under his breath. Yet again, all things led him back to her.

“All right. What did you bring?” Deaton asked as Allison was the last of the group to arrive.

They all gathered around three giant metal tubs filled almost to the brim with ice, water and various Celtic herbs and flowers. Zaida, Isaac and Lydia had spent their time helping Deaton move all of the tables out of the way and prepare everything necessary for the ritual. They had done so in awkward and thick silence.

“Um, I got my dad's badge.” Stiles turned the warped metal over in his hand, the light glinting of the damaged surface. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a little bit. Still doesn't look right.”

“Well, it doesn't have to look good if it has meaning.” Deaton smiled faintly. The Sheriff had also been his friend.

“Is that an actual silver bullet?” Isaac asked as he caught sight of the small, shiny object between Allison’s gingers, stamped with the Argent family crest.

“My dad made it. It's kind of a ceremonial thing.” She explained its significance. “When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the Code.”

“Scott?” Deaton prompted the werewolf to show them his item.

“My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.” He gazed down at the watch and not for the first time since meeting Scott’s dad, Zaida wondered what the history was there.

“Okay. The three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially...well, dead.” Deaton prepared them for what was about to happen. “But, it's not just someone to hold you under - it needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether.”

Despite the situation, Zaida found her eyes drawn to Stiles as she recalled similar circumstances they had experienced together. Months ago, he had held her under until she had almost died. He had been the one to pull her back. He must have been remembering it too because their eyes locked, sending a jolt through both of them before Zaida quickly turned away.

As Zaida crossed the room, headed for Allison, Deaton stopped her by holding out his open hand. “Zaida…You go with Stiles.” He instructed and she froze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It should be Lydia - you said it needs to be a strong connection. An emotional tether.” Zaida muttered bitterly, lowering her eyes.

“Which is exactly why it needs to be you.” Deaton insisted sternly. “Lydia will go with Allison.”

This time Zaida wasn’t the only one who noticed the longing in Isaac’s eyes as he looked towards Allison. And what was even stranger, was Allison glanced at him as well. Scott tilted his head, eyebrows twitching downwards slightly in confusion, but he brushed it off rather quickly.

Zaida took in a deep breath as she moved over to stand behind Stiles as he peeled off his shoes and socks, forcing herself to push everything else aside and focus on the matter at hand. The stakes were high - this was literally life or death. Stiles' own words jumped to her mind - “I’m about to drown my best friend. I don’t know how I could ever be ready for that” . It was only now that she stood in his shoes that she understood what he’d meant. Climbing into the tub, Stiles clutched his father’s mangled badge in his hand. The boy gritted his teeth against the freezing temperature, but pushed through it, lowering himself to sit inside, his legs outstretched. Allison and Scott did the same on either side, gasping at the cold.

“By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something…” Stiles’ voice trembled along with his body as he turned to his best friend before he went under. “...Your dad's in town.”

Scott’s eyes widened for a moment, but he didn’t have time to ponder the information as Deaton moved into position behind him, setting a hand on each of his shoulders. Lydia and Zaida followed suit but the brunette hesitated for a moment, her hands hovering over the fabric of Stiles’ shirt before she forced herself to grip him. The boy’s chest heaved, taking in desperate and deep breaths as the panic set in. It struck Zaida through that chestnut door in her mind, almost blowing the lock off, but she barricaded it shut. She’d be no use as his tether if she somehow went under with him. Even once her blocks were firmly in place, she still felt anxiousness churning within her stomach, though this time it was indeed her own. She might never see him alive again. She might not be able to pull him out.

“It’ll work,” Stiles whispered, assuring her - or himself - as if he was able to read the thoughts in her mind. Would it work? It had only worked last time because of what Stiles meant to her. He’d made it clear that she didn’t matter to him in the same way, despite his pretty words that morning.

“On the count of three,” Deaton spoke serenely, and Zaida felt Stiles shudder beneath her grasp. “One, two…three.”

On the final word Zaida held her breath as if it was her that was going under, pushing downwards and watching Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and he slid beneath the icy surface with no resistance. For a few moments, he remained still and peaceful, bubbles of air escaping his lips and slowly rising to the surface. Then he began to thrash against her hold - they all did - fighting to come up for air. Zaida’s guts twisted with guilt as she held him down, her hand almost slipping off his shoulder as he twisted to get away. She knew he didn’t actually want to come up. She knew it was his survival instinct kicking in. However as it became easier to hold Stiles down - as his strength waned and he finally went completely motionless - Zaida still felt as though she had killed him. She didn’t realise she was crying until a single tear dripped from her chin, falling into the water below and causing the surface to ripple slightly.

As the seconds stretched into minutes it soon became clear that something had gone wrong. The three would not be waking up as quickly as Deaton had planned. Zaida couldn’t watch them like that, floating lifelessly below the water. Instead she wandered into another back room and busied herself with unpacking her friends' clothes from the bags they had brought, folding them neatly in a pile for if - no, for when - they would emerge from the freezing waters. At least then they would have something warm to change into. As she fiddled with the corners of a fluffy towel Deaton had provided, Lydia entered the back room. Zaida didn’t have to turn around to know it was her from the sound of her heels clacking against the tiled ground.

“Zay, I know you don’t want to talk about it,” The redhead began and Zaida’s jaw clenched.

“You’re right,” She spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we need to.” Lydia insisted, moving to stand right behind her. “Please, just hear me out. Let me fix this. I need to fix this.”

“Lydia, right now I’m just trying really hard to hold it together long enough to deal with everything else going on.” She let out a stressed sigh.

“You don’t even have to speak, just listen!” Lydia pleaded with her, reaching out to touch her arm. As soon as her fingertips made contact, Zaida flinched away. “Zay, please. I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just panicked!”

“You panicked so you grabbed his face and kissed him?” Zaida snorted, whipping around to face the girl with an expression that was a mix between outraged and sceptical. “Right, because that makes so much sense!”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss him!” Lydia shook her head, green eyes growing wide. Then she winced. “I was about to, but-”

“Oh, and that’s so much better?!” Zaida burst out in dry and humourless laughter and she whirled to face the girl.

“No, wait-” Lydia backtracked, desperate to explain herself.

“You know what, no. Just stop. I don’t understand why you would do this to me. I have gone above and beyond for this friendship. I stood aside and I gave you every opportunity to be with Stiles, because I didn’t want to get in the way of something that might make you happy - someone that might be good for you for a change!” The brunette exclaimed, and once she’d open the gates, everything came flooding out. “The thing is, if you had told me you wanted him I would have stepped back for you in a heartbeat. But you didn’t tell me anything, you went behind my back and I had to walk in on it and react like a complete and utter idiot! And it’s not even like you were oblivious - I told you how I feel about him! You know what he means to me, and you told me you didn’t see him in that way. You told me he wasn’t your type-”

“And he’s not my type! I don’t see him as anything more than a friend - if that!” Lydia interrupted in protest, her guilt eating away at her from the inside out. Zaida had never spoken to her like this, but that only meant the girl had never been this hurt. And Lydia had been the one to cause it.

“Then why would you do it?!” Zaida didn’t even register the fact that she was yelling now, allowing her frustrations to get the best of her.

“It wasn’t like that, Zay. He was having a panic attack and nothing I was trying was calming him down - in fact, I think I was just making it worse. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’d read somewhere that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. The only way I could think of to get him to hold his breath, was…well to do that.” The redhead couldn’t even bring herself to say it, she felt so awful. “But I just couldn’t go through with it, and I didn’t need to because just grabbing him was enough for him to freeze in shock long enough to stop panicking.”

Zaida’s inferno of anger lowered to a simmer as she registered what the redhead was telling her. Lydia hadn’t kissed Stiles, and the only reason why she had been going to do so was in a strange, last-ditch attempt to stop his panic attack. The realisation that she had completely blown up over something that now didn’t seem nearly as bad was embarrassing, to say the least. Her best friend hadn’t gone behind her back to seize an opportunity to kiss the boy she liked after all.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I’m still angry. There are so many other ways - better ways - to stop a panic attack than that.” Zaida took in a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. She knew she could be irrational, and she had a knack for jumping to conclusions and blowing her lid occasionally. She didn't want to turn this into something bigger than what it was. Lydia hadn't meant anything malicious by her actions.

“You two have this ability to understand exactly what the other needs and you calm each other down like it's easy. You only have to look at each other, or start counting and you ground one another. I’ve seen you do it! And I can’t do that. When I tell you nothing was working, I mean nothing was working. I know it was stupid and awful, and I hate myself for it, but I genuinely didn’t know what else to do.” The redhead promised. “I am so beyond sorry, Zay.”

“Look, I…I know that it’s not an easy thing to deal with - especially being someone who hasn’t had any experience with it whatsoever.” Zaida sucked in another stabilising breath, trying desperately to be the bigger person and look at the situation from an objective perspective, pushing her jealousy away. “Panic attacks suck, and the only reason why Stiles and I can calm each other down is because we both know what it’s like to have them. We have our strategies that we know work for us. I can see how you would have arrived at the place you did, and under different circumstances - like, had I known what was actually going on when I walked in - I wouldn’t have freaked out the way I did.”

“Your reaction was entirely valid,” Lydia reached out to squeeze her arm in support, and this time Zaida didn’t flinch away. “I should never have even considered it. The last thing that I wanted was to be that girl. The girl I was before - the girl that made out with Allison’s boyfriend to get back at her and Jackson. The girl that hurt her friends and didn’t care. I thought I was past that.”

“I know you’re not that girl anymore, Lyds.” Zaida let out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the lingering tension along with it. “It’s just, for the longest time all Stiles could see was you, and I found a way to be okay with that because I didn’t want to resent you for something that wasn’t even remotely your fault. But things started to change and then it was like he was seeing me for the first time, and it made me hope that maybe I had a chance. Walking in and seeing you two like that just shattered it all, and it felt like shit. I still feel like shit.”

“I never wanted to make you feel that way,” The redhead shook her head, disappointed with herself. “You are the last person I ever want to feel like that. You are my best friend, and I love you more than anyone in the world. I hate that I was the one to do that to you and if I could take it back, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But you can’t take it back.” Zaida swallowed thickly. “And now I know that Stiles and I are never going to happen.”

“What? Why not?! Zaida, haven’t you noticed the way he’s been looking at you? How he’s been making any excuse to touch you and compliment you? How protective he is over you? How he goes absolutely insane whenever Isaac is around you? Stiles likes you!” Lydia exclaimed, not understanding how the girl couldn’t see it when it was so obvious.

“Maybe he does do all of those things, but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve always been the one for him Lydia. Today has shown me that the moment he might get a chance with you, he would take it. Even if one day he does choose me, I will always be his second choice. And I'm not going to allow myself to be somebody’s back up.” Zaida shook her head definitively. “I want to mean more than that.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it happening again only solidified the fact that it wouldn’t be the last if Zaida let it. Stiles always went back to Lydia. If once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was a pattern…that planted Stiles firmly past the pattern category. The boy would realise the redhead wasn’t interested and he would mope and Zaida would pick up the pieces, and after a while of him not showing any signs of still liking Lydia, she’d think that he’d moved on. Only for Lydia to show him the smallest bit of attention, sending him crawling back to her and leaving Zaida in the dust. Well she wasn’t okay with that anymore. Zaida wanted to matter to someone. She wanted dedication and loyalty and she wanted to be wanted. She wasn’t about to allow herself to settle for less than what she desired.

[ninjagirlstar5]

I was in the mood to draw Minako Tomori, and so I did. I put her in this melancholic pose while dressed in casual clothes, like she's hanging out in public, but she started getting distracted by past regrets...

Her casual clothes are based off of this sprite edit I made of her for my fanfic:

There's no tattoo-covering-a-scar on her shoulder in this sprite cause I literally just came up with that headcanon yesterday and this sprite edit is almost a year old (I just never posted it until now). Not that you would've seen it that well from this angle anyways.

Her tattoo is based off of the flower, Sakurasou or the Japanese Primrose, btw. Kinda proud on how it turned out, ngl, as I'm not really that good in designing tattoos for characters. ^^;

Anyways, I made an off-the-cuff Minako Tomori analysis under the read more, oops:

I've been seeing a lot of Tomori family talk lately and that made me start thinking of Minako again as she's, well, kindof my favorite out of the 6.5 crew next to Dr. Ando (which led to me making this drawing of her). Now, I'm not defending her in how she raised Kizuna or her horrible attitude or anything like that. She's pretty horrible in DRA 6.5 and she gets called out on multiple times by Ryutaro and even Dr. Ando, and rightfully so. But man, from what I can understand in DRA 6.5, she's clearly a goddamn mess. From all the smoking she does to (badly) cope with the stress of dealing with her failure of a marriage to a shitty husband who is also a shitty dad, to constantly cheating on him cause she'd rather be anywhere but with him and can't divorce him due to collateral so she's just legally stuck with him so she goes off to find other men (usually younger but at least they're of age) to ignore her problems at home, puts importance on money because she's the only one trying make sure they have a fuckin' roof over their heads cause her husband is too busy gambling and drinking all their money away, and probably put importance on her appearance more than anything else cause it's one of the few things she can control about herself and feel confident in (and even then, she can't stop the passage of time that is old age). And all of this, plus how she interacts with Ryutaro in her Talk sections (a.k.a. her FTEs) by constantly calling him brat and trying to get him to go away, and no wonder Kizuna turned out the way she did. She had a dad that was never there for her or his wife, refusing to take responsibility for anything and just focuses on himself, and her mom is dealing with SO many things that she's constantly stressed about money and her appearance to the point that she's unable to be emotionally supportive to her daughter in any healthy manner that her flaws, her own attitude about men, and her beliefs in money and appearance is all that matters just ended up trickling down to her daughter and influencing her in a way that it turned her into the messed up girl she is in the short time we got to know her in DRA. Like, holy shit, Minako. You're an asshole of a parent, but when you really think about it, the poor woman got the short end of the stick in life and that really affected how she acted in raising her daughter. Again, not defending her as she's still a bad influence but it's hard not to pity her when she's left to do all the work herself, from parenting, to working, to just trying to take care of herself (by coping in very bad ways)...It's not an enviable position, that's for sure. But honestly, that's what makes Minako so interesting to me. She's not a good person, far from it, nor is she the "better" parent in this scenario. But she still cared enough about Kizuna to follow a suspicious note and getting kidnapped in the process, even when it had the underlying motivation of deciding that she had enough of her shitty husband and took the opportunity to run away from him. And whenever the other characters, particularly Dr. Ando, call her out on her nonsense, I think she gets struck silent in response. Like their words are genuinely getting to her and making her question the way she acts.

And you know what fucks me up the most?

The implication that, between finding out what happened to Kizuna and the rest of the class in DRA post 6.5 upon getting rescued and before the events of SDRA2, she actually changed and improved as a person. Minako, while she is gossiping in the epilogue, is a lot more nicer and friendlier here, is giving us a rundown of what happened after the Utsuroshima Killing Game and the rumors surrounding it to Midori, and making light-hearted jokes in an attempt to cheer Midori up by making fun of herself. And when Midori starts to cry over Teruya's death, Minako's sprite goes sympathetic and concerned and it fades to black for awhile and we come back to Midori reassuring Minako that she's feeling better now with the implication that Minako was trying to comfort her through her mourning. And then she gives out some pretty sound advice, even when dropping this bit in the process:

(The translation is an unofficial version and this bit of dialogue appears at the 3:55 mark.)

"...Go ahead and cry your heart out. You're still young, so you don't have to pretend you're strong."

"With age, the tears won't come even if you want to cry, so when you feel the need to cry, cry."

Which, OW to that last one.

Like, imagine going through so much shit through your life as an adult that you can't even bring yourself to cry about it. You just go, "Yep, this might as well happen," with all the apathy and frustration you can muster in your body.

And when Midori goes to leave to talk to the criminals, Minako has the sense to go "That's a bad and dangerous idea, Midori, don't go alone!" and points out that she JUST got out of the hospital and hasn't fully recovered yet. She even tries to convince her to stay by asking her to continue talking with her cause she's bored. (And, well, I can believe that, even when she's speaking some common sense.) But it clearly rubbed Midori the wrong way as she seems to want to be useful in any way she can, regardless of whether or not her life gets put in danger, so she goes anyway. Aaand Minako complains about Midori's parents not teaching her to treat her adults with "respect," and has brought up "worrying over Keisuke getting a scratch on his pretty face" earlier in conversation, which shows that she's still a flawed person. But I consider that good writing as just because she's a better person now, that doesn't mean her flaws are just going to go away or disappear suddenly. Taking away a character's flaws in order to make them a "good" person will only make them bland, boring, and flat as a paper. Flaws are meant to help characters be more nuanced in personality, and Minako still being abrasive is good as it's a flaw that is a part of her to be aware of and keeps her character recognizable despite the implication that she's trying to do better now. And when Midori gets kidnapped, she immediately runs over to Ryutaro and Keisuke to tell them what happened, calling Ryutaro "kid" in the process, and showing fear for Midori's safety. I don't know if the translation between Kid and Brat is any different, but it's a step up from brat, at least. (And honestly, I can see Minako using "kid" and "brat" as a more affectionate nickname to Ryutaro over time since she comes off as the type to show affection through teasing.) And to top it all off, the cigarettes from her DRA sprites have been replaced with lollipops in her SDRA2 sprites, and candy is a common way of trying to combat addiction to nicotine.

In other words, the way Minako acts in SDRA2 shows that she's trying to be a better person, even if that development happened between games. (And frankly, we shouldn't just stop everything in the epilogue just to have a flashback of "here's why so-and-so acts like this now!" Like, that would just kill the pacing of the epilogue and defeats the whole purpose of a time-skip between games.) It's just a shame that Kizuna's death was the wake-up call that put her on that track to growth in the first place (alongside the call-outs). It's through the death of her own daughter and what led up to it and why she acted the way she did in that moment that made her stop, take in the call outs she's been dealt with throughout the 6.5 chapter, and go, "Oh. I've been a shitty mom and that played a part in how Kizuna acted and led to her death." Cause think about it: if Kizuna was never concerned about her appearance, if she never had this belief that she had to extort others in order to benefit herself, whether it's men for money, affection, popularity, attention or anyone else for anything else, DRA's Chapter 2 probably wouldn't have happened the way that it did. It may not have prevented Kizuna from dying at some point during the killing game, but her behavior was something that she learned and inherited from Minako. And that realization had to sting for her as she not only lost her daughter but had to come to terms with the revelation that it was indirectly her fault for influencing Kizuna in a way that made her a terrible person that decided her only option to survive was to try and kill (which backfired on her hard). But unlike some people, who would double-down on their behavior or just grow worse through their grief, Minako seemed to have reflected on everything up to that point and decided to grow as a person instead. But even though Minako is trying to be a better person now, she can never make it up to her own daughter that she messed up the most. Because that chance is forever lost thanks to death itself.

Reflection is important, because if you don't do that much, you'll never realize what you've done wrong until it's too late and the chance to make it up to your loved one is forever stripped from you.

...At least, that's how I've interpreted Minako Tomori.