#BAD NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S REALLY REALLY REALLY INVOLVED!!!!!!!!!!

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 untouchable ¡

pairing experienced¡roommate¡rafe cameron x innocent¡reader

sunmary rafe guides you through your first masturbation after you told him you've never touched yourself before, his offer tempting you in ways you've never experienced before. your curiosity grows as well as your desire, leading to an intimate moment that changed things between you two.

contains smut! first time masturbating, guided orgasm, fingering, lots and lots of kissing, dirty talk, nipple play, needy reader, player rafe, hes a tease!! he also interrupts reader, uhh thats ab it (i think). wc; 4.2k

a/n hi !! this took two days to write and at least 1-2 months to get out of my notes blaahhh hope you enjoy!!!!

“Have you ever had someone go down on you?” 

You choked out a snort of disblief, taken aback by the question. Rafe, who was seated inches away from you, chuckled, turning his head in your direction, causing the smile on your face to instantly vanish. 

He wasn’t joking. 

You cleared your throat, feeling heat crawl past your neck, until it eventually settled on your face. You’ve had your fair share of embrassing moments with your roommate, but this? You wanted the ground to split and swallow you whole, too ashamed to respond. 

Truth be told, you’ve never involved yourself in any sexual activities, let alone had someone go down on you. Hell, you’ve barely ever touched yourself before, brushing off your random bursts of arousal whenever you were sexually frustrated

So, the question here was, how were you supposed to tell him that? Reveal that you were a virgin at heart, and that you’ve never had someone touch you intimatly; not that you’ve done it. 

You were painfully aware of how experienced Rafe was, with the latter informing you all about his hookups; and that was besides the amount of girls he brought over. The walls were thin enough to give everything out, their loud moans and whimpers echoing through your ears. In conclusion, you didn’t need him to break down what he was up to. 

“Not that I remember.” You muttered, brushing off the question. 

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, snatching the spoonful of ice cream from your hold. “Who doesn’t remember getting eaten out?” 

“People are busy, Rafe.” You scoffed, licking the drop of ice cream off your thumb. “Not everyone has the time to fuck around.”

“You’re not busy,” he muffled out, tossing the spoon back in the tube of ice cream on your lap. “You don’t go out, all you do is lay around the whole day, then proceed to complain over the fact that you did nothing all day.”

You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed expression at his words. Rafe adjusted his position, manspreading on the sofa, until his knee was hovering over yours, the contact ceasing the distance between you. 

“I mean, come one…” he trailed off, tone slightly teasing. “I’ve never seen you bring anyone over, are you really not interested in any of that stuff?” 

“How about you mind your business?” You huffed, feeling your ears burn with heat. “Why do you wanna know so bad?” 

“What?!” He defensively shot back, “I’m jus’ curious, besides, you never tell me anything, it’s always me talking.” 

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to tell you,” you mumbled under your breath, avoiding Rafe’s gaze. “There, you happy?”

Silence seeped through the air, atmosphere heavy with tension. Rafe‘s lips parted with disbelief, speechles by your blunt response. That was… new, you never brought up your sexual life to the latter before, so to think you were admitting to being a virgin over a silly argument struck Rafe to his core. 

"You're not like, serious or anything, right?” He attempted to laugh it off, smile fading when your expression remained the same. “Shit, you’re being serious.”

Your gaze settled on your hands in your lap, too embarrassed to glance over at Rafe, whose eyes burned holes through your flesh. You could envision the look of disbelief on his face, not having to look to know that he was shocked. 

“Why are you surprised?” You giggled, brushing off the heavy tension seeping through. “You said it yourself, i’ve never really brought anyone over.” 

“I was messing,” he swiftly replied, “I didn’t think you were you know�� a virgin.”

“Okay, if you word it like that…” You tilted your head to the side, a tight-lipped smile spreading across your lips. 

“Have you never like, engaged in anything?” Rafe muttered, trying to play off the question as something casual, though you knew it wasn’t. “You know, never gave a guy a blowjob before?” 

Nothing about your roommate asking if you’ve given a guy a blowjob was casual. 

“No.” You shook your head, a snort escaping your throat. 

“You’ve kissed someone before though, right?” He asked, voice lowering with hesitation. 

“I’ve kissed someone before.” You exclaimed, leaning your head back on the sofa. “You already knew about that.” 

“You did tell me,” he nodded his head, “Have you never like…”

“What is it now, Rafe?” You question, teasing hinted through your tone. “Why are you investigating me?”

“‘M not; jus’ curious.” He muffled out, voice barely above a whisper. “Have you never pleased yourself?”

“What?” You ask, coming to a halt. 

The question filled with temptation, something you both chose to avoid for the sake of your friendship. Rafe always playfully flirts with you, using every chance he could to tease you. Those usually end in you brushing it off, not thinking too much of it. 

However, this was personal. He was asking questions that shall be private, not for him to hear, nor know about.  

“Have you never touched yourself before?” He elaborated, gaze flickering to your lap. “You’ve touched yourself, right?” 

You remained silent, blinking far too many times for your liking. You fidgeted with the rings hugging your fingers, busying yourself with the movie displayed on the tv, now long forgotten with the ongoing conversation. 

“Fuck.” Rafe muttered under his breath, throat going dry. “That’s so…” 

“Embrassing,” you cut him off, playing off your embarrassment. “I know.” 

“It’s hot; somehow turns me on,” he corrected, continuing his statement. “Knowing you’ve never touched yourself before.” 

Your head shifted in his direction, a flustered expression spreading across your face as you felt heat settle on your cheeks. You swallowed around your throat, mouth gaping to speak, met with utter silence in return. 

Shivers ran down your spine, the sensation like feathers on your skin. Rafe’s blank expression made things worse, displaying how serious he was being. He wasn’t fucking around, even with how swift the conversation took a turn. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, clearing your throat. “Quit messin’ around.” 

“Did that get you?” Rafe choked out a giggle, easing the tension between you. 

“That wasn’t funny!” You huffed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t joke around like that.”

“I mean,” he said, teasingly fidgeting with his tongue. “It wasn’t a joke, but–”

“Rafe!” Your face heat up, flustered expression spreading across your face. 

“Sorry!” He chuckled, drifting off for a moment. His gaze trailed down your body, a sly smirk finding his lips once again. “You need help? I’ll guide you through it.” 

You paused, considering his suggestion for a moment, even if he meant it as a joke. Your lips quivered into a thin line, feeling your throat dry up when his hand found your bare thigh, action teasing, tempting you in ways that were forbidden. 

And before you got time to process the gesture, he grabbed the ice cream tube from your lap, instantly scooping a bite with the spoon inside. It took you a moment to catch on with what he did, attempting (and failing) to snatch it back from his hold. 

“Hey, that’s mine.” You muttered, gaze shifting up to Rafe when he stood to his feet. 

“What’s mind is yours, remember?” He winked, walking backwards to maintain eye contact with you. “We both pay the bills around here.” 

“I paid for that, though.” You argued, mimicking the latter’s action as you followed in his steps. 

“From whose wallet?” He reasoned, causing you to go quiet. 

Right, you did steal ten bucks to buy that from him; though the boy didn’t mind. 

Your shoulder relaxed, defeated by the boy’s response as you watched him enter his room, letting the door shut behind him. 

That was that.

Later that night, you found yourself slipping under your convers, tempted by Rafe’s words from earlier. Your hands traced down your body, halting around the sliver of skin in between your shirt and shorts. 

Your fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, teeth digging through your bottom lip as your hand tumbled beneath the thin cloth, the sensation of your cold fingers brushing over your heat sending shivers throughout your body. 

Your digits lightly traced over your heat, sliding down your folds, inaudible gasp escaping your throat when you noticed how wet you’ve gotten from earlier. Rafe’s words echoed through your ears as your eyes fell shut, imagining him guiding you through your masturbation with his words, the thought spiraling pleasure through your body.

You collected your juices with your fingers, gasping as you traced them back to your clit, the sensation overwhelming you whole. You started off with slow rubs to your cunt, letting your pleasure build up within every touch you committed to. 

You imagined Rafe’s hand instead of yours, rubbing your clit while he whispered praises to your ears. The thought washed guilt over you, aware you were going to regret your pathetic thoughts once the pleasure wears off. 

Imagining your roommate going down on you was your last predicament tonight, yet, here you were, touching yourself while pretending it was Rafe, his words never leaving your mind. You would’ve been down for whatever, the least he could’ve done was push through with his teasing, and you would’ve gladly accepted it. 

But he didn’t, and that made you want him even more. The idea of not being able to have him, not even for a moment, because it was forbidden. You were well aware of that, barely holding back before, whether Rafe stood too close, or said something tempting. 

“Hey, uh, have you seen my green–” Rafe burst through the door, freezing in his tracks once he noticed the state you were in. “Sweatshirt?” 

The covers weren’t much of help, as Rafe instantly realized what you were doing. He gulped, feeling himself twitch in his pants, as his fingers clutched around the doorknob. You immediately jumped out of your position once you spotted him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your eyes trailed down to his torso, feeling heat crawl to your face when you noticed his bare chest, out on display. Right, that was a norm, you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What the fuck, dude?” You shot back, heavy breaths escaping your throat. “Can’t you knock?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, too hazed up to process what you were saying. “Right, sorry, I– I should’ve knocked.”

You felt so exposed under his gaze, tugging your bottom lip with guilt as you caught sight of his face. Maybe that was meant to happen, a sign that you shouldn’t have crossed the invisble line you created, pleasing yourself over the thought of your best friend. 

“What do you need?” You muffled out, gulping when his eyes flickered down to your lips. 

“Well, I was jus’ asking if you’ve seen my sweatshirt, but…” He trailed off, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You seem busy.” 

“I was sleeping.” You replied, though the excuse was not much help. “You– you interrupted.”

“Clearly,” He cocked his head to the side, seeking your gaze with his own, a desperate exhale escaping his parted lips when your eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I’ll leave you to it, then…”

He trailed off, hinting something with his tone. He hesitated to leave, still clutching into the door handle while he stared at you, waiting for you to at least say something, stop him before he does anything stupid and ruin your friendship in the process. 

However, you didn’t, leading the latter to shut the door, the gesture causing you to wince. You gulped, observing as Rafe came to a halt, his back to the door, with his hand yet wrapped around the doorknob. His lips parted with an exhale, fingers finding his jaw as he busied himself with his chin. 

And if you didn’t know him any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous. But he wasn't. You knew Rafe, he was your roommate, after all. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned, voice low enough he could barely hear you. 

Rafe remained silent, leisurely approaching you with haste. Your gaze followed his every move as he came to a halt around the edge of the bed, now towering over you. You fluttered your eyes up at the latter, breath hitching when you noticed the look of despair on his face. 

His fingers hovered beneath your chin, thumb slightly tracing your bottom lip, the fraction causing your mouth to part. He tilted your head with the fingers around your jaw, cursing under his breath once he caught sight of your hazed state, too far gone to comprehend your surroundings. 

“You need help with that?” He questioned, gaze flickering to the shorts that hung low on your waist, able to see them now that he was in your presence. 

“Huh?” You questioned, vision going blurry when his thumb grazed over your teeth. “What do you mean?”

He groaned when your tongue darted out, licking a stripe of his finger, the gesture bold, encouraging him to continue. And he did, inserting his thumb inside your mouth, the sensation of your hot spit coating his finger earning a shuddered exhale out of the boy. 

You swirled your tongue around the digit, driving Rafe over the edge. He imagined your lips wrapped around his cock instead of his finger, the dirty thought causing him to twitch in his pants, fully hard hard by now. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, withdrawing his finger from in between your lips, and replaced it with his own as he captured your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. “Can’t believe you’ve never let anyone touch you before.” 

“Is it that hard to believe?” You hushed, lowering your tone to match his. “Are you gonna tease me over it?”

“While that does sound tempting right now,” he smiled over your mouth, littering wet kisses in between his sentence. “I’ll pass, ‘rather focus on you, doll.”

Your face heat up at the pet name, too flustered to respond. You were still in disbelief over this, whatever it was, not expecting anything like this to happen between you two. Fuck, Rafe was kissing you, and you were totally in for it, in fact, your body was speaking faster than your mind, following your needs before you could process it. 

“I’ll guide you through your first time, baby.” He muttered under his breath, knee finding the space in between your legs. He captured the corner of your lips in an open-mouthed kiss, one of his hands toying with the strap of your bra. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“You know,” you trailed off, enjoying the sensation of his fingers tracing the bare skin around your shoulders, the contact like feathers to your flesh. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Why not?” He asked, hands shifting down to your waist, barely above the hem of your top. “It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong, ‘m only helpin’ you.”

“Jus’ shut up n’ kiss me.” You slurred, wrapping both arms around his neck as you ceased the distance between you. 

A content hum left Rafe’s throat, pressing you down to the bed with the hands around your waist. The latter hovered over you, angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. A gasp escaped your throat as he nibbled on your bottom lip, the unexpected gesture causing you to part your mouth. 

Rafe saw a chance, and took it, tongue invading the inside of your mouth with the access you granted him, your fingers toyed with the bozzed hair at the back of his head, almost yelping when his cold fingers made contact with the sliver of skin around your stomach. 

You’ve never been touched by a man like this before, Rafe was exploring parts in your body that were meant to be hidden, not for his gaze to admire. Multiple times he had to hold back, watching you innocently walk around the house with a set of pajamas that barely covered anything, revealing all your curves. 

You drove him crazy, with everytime you moved, slightly teased him, told him things no one should know, he wasn’t able to handle it, not with how oblivious you were to the hints he kept dropping. And if he rubbed one out to the thought of you, he wasn’t mentioning it; not to you, that’s for sure.

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, withdrawing from the kiss to glance down, making you feel shy under his gaze. He tugged the elastic down your side, hissing when his fingers made contact with the warm skin hidden underneath. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, “Get these off, need to see you s’ bad.” 

You moaned at the remark, letting your eyes fall shut as he tugged your shorts down, levelling them with your knees, until he could get a good view of your dripping cunt. A shuddered sigh escaped his lips, fingers instantly finding your folds. 

You gasped at the sensation, arching into the touch, chasing after your pleasure when he moved his hand up your sides, pressing your hips down to the bed. 

“Stay,” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours. “I’m supposed to be helpin’ you, ‘member?”

Right, that skipped over your head. 

“Well then, hurry up and do it.” You whined, almost yelping when his hand hovered over your heat. “Fuck, Rafe, please.”

“Please what?” He question, a teasing grin forming on his lips. “Use your words, baby.” 

“Touch me.” You demanded, words slurring out of your mouth. 

“You know I can’t do that.” He chuckled, retrieving one of your hands from around his neck. “S’ supposed to be your job.”

He guided your hand down to your heat, pressing your fingers to your clit. You moaned, leaning your head back as Rafe moved your digits over your cunt, using his hand to lead you through the rhythm, slow and steady, not too much, in case you grew sensitive to it. 

You desperately shuddered under the touch, gasping when Rafe pressed his hand over yours, the gesture spiraling pleasure throughout your body. His face nuzzled into your neck, littering wet kisses to your throat as he continued pleasing you with his guided hand, leisurenly picking up his (your) pace. 

“Fuck,” you whined, nails digging into the blade of his shoulder, well aware he was waking up with bruises with how much pressure you were applying. “Feels s’ good.” 

“Yeah?” He muffled against your neck, teeth grazing over flesh, before he nibbled right under your jaw. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

You hummed, too accompanied with your pleasure to respond. You arched into the touch, muffled whines the only thing leaving your throat as Rafe’s fingers traced over your folds, until they found your entrance. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, withdrawing from the crook of your neck. “You’re so wet for me, doll.”

Your face heat up at the words, turning your head to the side to avoid looking at the latter. One of his hands slid underneath your shirt, kneading your boob with his fingers. Everything felt overwhelming, whether it was the hand guiding your fingers on your clit, or the one squeezing your breasts, it was too much for you to comprehend with a hazy mind and a blurry vision. 

He managed to get your shirt off with a bit of shuffling, and a bit of help from you; of course, leaving you in only your bra. His mouth salivated at the sight of your breasts, now half on display, only for him to see. 

He swallowed around his throat, fingers toying with the thin material of your bra, using the digits to tug it down, until it exposed your nipple to the chilly air, causing goosebumps to break out across your chest. He rolled it with his thumb, fascinated with how perfectly your boobs sat. 

You jolted under his touch, becoming sensitive to the finger flicking your nipple, growing even more surprised when he leaned down, taking your tit in his mouth. His tongue swirled over your now hardened nipple, letting his spit coat a stripe of your chest. 

Your back arched into Rafe’smouth, eyes forcing shut as his hand found your back, unclipping your bra with a swift gesture. He let the cloth hang loose around your chest, finger dipping beneath the straps around your shoulders, letting them fall down your sides. 

“God,” he grunted, his hot breath fanning over your boob, while his hand toyed with the other, squeezing and kneading the plump flesh. “You’re a fucking mess for me.”

You whined in protest to his words, feeling your pleasure build up, sensing your climax in the process. Rafe’s mouth found your lips once again, capturing them in a lustful kiss. He licked into your mouth, tongue gliding over yours as it met his half way through. 

“I think I’m…” you spoke in between kisses, “Rafe– fuck!”

An audible gasp escaped your throat when Rafe circled your entrance, lining his finger up with your hole. And without a warning, he slipped a finger inside, the new found pleasure mixed with pain alluring you into his trap. 

This was exactly what he wanted, to have you a flustered mess under his touch, show you how good he could make you feel, even if it was wrong, forbidden; in your words.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, parted lips ghosting over yours. “Wanna fuck you so bad, doll.” 

You whined over the statement, picturing the idea of Rafe fucking you stupid, until you no longer were able to remember your name. His finger moved inside you, letting you get used to the digit moving in and out of you. Your hand was back to your side by now, letting Rafe lead you through your built orgasm. 

The latter lined another finger with your hole, slowly letting it insert inside you, using his thumb to rub your clit, merely to distract your mind off the pain, and focus on pleasing you. His pace was slow, steady enough it drove you crazy. 

His fingers continued pumping in and out of you, with you relaxing into the touch once you slightly got used to the digits stretching you out. Rafe picked up his speed when he noticed that, hand growing sloppy inside your dripping hole. 

“Rafe–” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so fuckin’ close.”

He hummed, littering open-mouthed kissed to your lips as you gasped into his mouth when his fingers hit your g stop. And you were so closer, with his fingers inserting in and out of you, while his thumb rubbed your clit, chasing after your pleasure. 

Your legs trembled as you came undone, shuddering in Rafe’s arms as he walked you through your orgasm. He slowed down his pace, chuckling as a content hum escaped your throat, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

It was sweet, lingering for only a moment before Rafe pulled away, smug smile ghosting over your lips. He withdrew his fingers from your entrance, with you already missing the warmth of his fingers inside. 

He traced his hand over your figure, coming to a halt when he reached your mouth. He parted your lips with his fingers, a silent demand that you shall not deny. You took the digits in your mouth, gliding your tongue over each one, tasting yourself on them. 

Rafe smirked, watching you with despair, a look of want you only got to experience whenever he was hitting on other girls. Yet, here he was, fucking you with his fingers until you came undone. 

He withdrew his fingers, replacing it with his own mouth as he pulled you in for another kiss, this time to taste you on his lips. He smiled against you, satisfied now that he’s able to savor you whole, having explored every inch of your body; though he knew that wasn’t enough. 

“That felt good,” he started, rubbing his thumb over the corner of your face. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, I must say…” you trailed off, slightly growing flustered by his gaze as it burned holes through your skin. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You think?” He snickered, thumb brushing over your lips. “Should we give it another go, now that you lost your jerk-off virginity?”

“That’s lame,” You chuckled, a knowing smile suppressing its way across your lips. “Hmm, who knows, maybe that’s not the only virginity I’ll be losing tonight.”

“Okay, that’s a lame way of telling me you want me to take your virginity.” He grinned, amused by the embarrassed shove you gave to his shoulder. 

“My god, shut up!” You blushed, hiding your face with your hands. “That’s not what I was sayin’.”

“No yeah, definitely.” He nodded, attempting to get your hands off your face. “Don’t be a brat, baby, look at me.” 

Your hold fell loose around your face, letting Rafe move your hands off, revealing the smile tugging at your lips. He mimicked your action, expression switching into something serious, all while maintaining a teasing grin still. 

“You know, that wasn’t such a bad idea.” He pecked the corner of your lips, leisurely trailing down to your throat, until he nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “Maybe we should test it out.” 

“Test what out, idiot?” You grinned, tilting your head to give Rafe more access to the side of your neck. 

“Lots of stuff,” he muffled, “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back, now that I got a taste of you.” 

“So, don’t.” You shot back, mouth moving faster than your brain as you responded. “Don’t hold yourself back, ‘m all yours.”

And that was the only sign Rafe needed, ceasing the distance between you before capturing your lips in a kiss, one you don’t think you’ll be able to forget.

[khorneschosen]

You're asking to have an argument about Trump's previous term to this one.

When it's quite clear the issue is about which side has the most empathy, common sense, and tolerance.

And when it comes to common sense y'all have none common sense belongs to a philosophy that you no longer practice or believe in.

It's a bumpkin version of rationalism, which Marxist outright deny the existence of. So you guys don't have common sense because you guys aren't rationalist or for that matter rational. Hence why existentialism formed as a reaction to the fact that the prophecy of Marx never came to fruition.

The masses and the proletarian never revolted on mass capitalism didn't become one giant monopoly nor is it really in danger of ever becoming a monopoly where the state is not involved.

What's more the standard living and wealth of the people living under capitalism or even quasi or broken capitalism are still doing better than all the people states of the world Even when those people states have access to a great deal of resources from the rest of the world.

This is by the way why market socialism is the big new hot push, what they really should call it however is modern Chinese socialism.

And however has the exact same problems of a socialist government with fewer tools to be able to deal with it. It's basically the state controls you and you control the factories but we control you so we control the factories anyway. Which is remarkably how national socialism works, you know it as fascism.

And then when it comes to empathy you guys have what can only really be described as transactional collective empathy. If a person or a group does what you say you have a great deal of empathy for them so much so that you'll let them get away with anything however if any member of that group goes against you or is even really just neutral and a way that you can't abide, even a small way you have no empathy for them.

And we've seen that when it comes to cishet white men for a while, and Asians and Jews recently, and even more recently Arabs and Hispanics who do not vote Democrat.

What I'm really describing here is just an in-group preference based on political or philosophical lines, But even then it's more based around whether or not that particular group is useful to you. Because despite everything destiny is one of your guys and y'all treat him like shit, because at times he dares to challenge you guys on some of your worst excesses and on your own terms. In a way that you simply cannot ignore. You can't rightly call him a conservative because the evidence of your own eyes and mind do not allow you to.

This too by the way goes for tolerance, The one axiom that you seem to have in group and outgroup preferences for being your politics and how useful someone is to the cause, you have no tolerance for it.

Meanwhile conservatives come from various different areas of influence. The Protestant and Catholics have long had their doctrine changed to better meet and work with reality. The capitalists are hard realists to the point of irrational pragmatism at times. And the nationalists are operating on a very old form of your system but they do it just for the people within their own nation. Which is just demanding that the benefactors be within their national boundaries.

Oh and liberals have a strong philosophical tradition that goes back to the enlightenment. Of course I mean classical liberals rather than communist calling themselves liberal because it's a lot easier than calling themselves a communist.

So as far as logic goes they're nowhere near as bad.

And as for empathy they are by definition conservatives they are being challenged and at every point of the challenge they have allowed you to challenge them in ways that they frankly shouldn't have. That their own code would have allowed them to crush you at any point and yet refuse to out of empathy intolerance for your kind.

And we're talking collectively right we're not talking about individual examples because if that's the case we'll be here all night but in the broadest strokes conservatives do have empathy tolerance and they're far more logical. I mean even scientific studies have shown that they have more risk assessment which you define is fear for the sake of your propaganda but really it's just risk assessment. Which one we're dealing with the country that is the leader of the free world and if its economy goes tits up, will destroy the free world and an economic collapse from which it will never recover from I don't say that fear or risk assessment is misplaced.

Like baseline conservative is infinitely more rational. Baseline libertarian is infinitely more rational because they at least acknowledge the reality of economics or culture. Y'all routinely ignore the risks or even cost of your actions and policies and ideologically do not believe in rationality.

So yeah leftist and I do mean leftist are less rational, less empathetic and less tolerant.

Also if you want me to get to your second question reword it a little bit, it's confusing how it's currently written.

[mistresscitrusslice]

The Season 2 Opening. We Must Discuss.

First of all, small beans. Instead of static, lifeless statues, this time we get moving humans. Mel features significantly more than I expected, so she'll probably be a much more major character than I expected for a non-champion character and I'm so happy for her. I believe the use of moving people instead of statues signifies that immense change will be happening. What we thought was literally set in stone in Season 1 will be turned on its head in Season 2.

Okay, on to the really concerning matters.

Yuhuh. Jinx moves too fast for me to get a good screenshot, but she gestures like this around her face a lot. I think we all already know about the Caitlyn-Jinx parallels, but my sister suggests it could be a red herring for the actual resemblances she has to Silco.

Sis gets credit for the following observation, but Caitlyn's daydream sequences about shooting Jinx are controlled and clearly separated from reality unlike Jinx's.

However, sis has not seen ep 2 yet, where Caitlyn does have that moment in the arcade where she shoots her vision of Jinx among the wooden dummies. Not only does this more closely resemble Jinx's hallucinations, it also parallels Jinx shooting the harmless crow in s1 e5. By the time the strike squad are about to leave, she can clearly tell that what she thought might be Jinx was really just a harmless wooden standee. Startling, but harmless. She shoots it anyway.

Caitlyn is totally gonna spiral more, and maybe she'll start losing her grip on reality too, but for now, she has more in common with Silco than she does with Jinx. Did anyone else get reminded of Silco's coat when Ambessa put the supervillain cape on Caitlyn? The collars don't look similar but they still eerily resemble each other, you get me?

Ok back to intro stuff

Vi wipes off her name from her face. That's two tattoos that are rendered impermanent in this opening theme. In the Fenty x Arcane video, they mention that Mel's golden freckles are tattoos. Later in the intro song, we also see her golden freckles gone. Change, impermanence. That seems to be a theme here.

Vi is literally erasing her name from her face. In any normal circumstance, I'd say that means she wants a change of identity, a desire to start over. However, I know that Vi's League lore involves amnesia. Does she really drink herself into that bad of a stupor? Jkjk. I assumed that her amnesia was replaced by the Stillwater imprisonment to explain how she got topside and with the enforcers, but perhaps I was wrong. Maybe they do still intend to go the amnesia or partial amnesia route with her.

The teasers implied that Vi shares the genetic trait that has Jinx predisposed to hallucinations. It's possible that this eventually contributes to her loss of memory, but I wouldn't call it quite yet. However, if this happens during her emo era when I'm assuming she has no support system, she'll be very vulnerable, unlike if it were to happen while she was still partnered with Caitlyn, in which case they could easily fill in most blanks in her memory.

I have no idea what to make of this. It's clear as day what they're paralleling, but why? Why the flashlight scene? My best guess is that they're trying to draw on déjà vu, implying a repetition of history, but why this particular moment? They could've easily chosen anything else in Jayce's s1 arc. He has many more memorable moments than this. Let's see, I'm literally making this up as I go.

This meeting was a pivotal moment for Jayce. Both his meeting with Viktor and his meeting with Mel changed his fate. The Viktor one is pretty self-explanatory, but without meeting Mel, they would've both just gotten exiled or locked up again. With Mel, they had someone in power who could vouch for them.

That begs the question, is Jayce meeting someone new? Or is this a reintroduction to someone he's already known before, a new meeting after a long time apart or after a significant change, maybe a change in them both. I believe it must be someone who was involved in the original hallway scene.

Jayce is either looking at Mel again or at Viktor. Given the amount of Viktor/Mel parallels in Season 1, I believe Jayce is looking at Viktor after he's undergone his likely final evolution. That'll obviously be another pivotal moment for him... but will it be a good one like it was with Mel? Viktor has power now. He's performing miracles. He's, like, two steps away from parting the Pilt River like it's the Red Sea. He seems to hold a grudge against Jayce, though, for *checks notes* saving his life? Jk I know he feels like he's losing autonomy and like Jayce didn't respect his wishes with the Hexcore and Jayce obviously couldn't let Viktor die when he'd fought so hard to stay alive before.

Anyway, I feel like this could easily be both a good omen and a bad omen for Jayce. More than anything, I feel like it'll be an epiphany. He is quite literally seeing the light. The light at the end of the dark tunnel? The light of the heavens at the end of his life? The light of a revelation sent by a god he once knew as a man?

Seeing Mel screaming bloody murder during the opening, this was the first place my mind went to. The pose doesn't match up exactly, and Jinx/Powder's screams are definitely wilder, but I feel like there's definitely something here. Is there anyone else who screams like this, thrusting their head forward and keeping their arms back?

We also see the shadow hands from this earlier shot:

I'm thinking of the Black Rose (is that their name?) kidnapping her in thin air, incorporeal hands reaching at her and snatching my joy the love of my life Mel away. It could also represent people grasping at the power Mel wields, both as the wealthiest Council member and as a Noxian princess, one of the closest people to Ambessa, the one wielding the most power right now.

Mel is really out of her depth right now. Her power and influence is up for grabs if she dares to blink and let her guard down. I'm also surprised that we don't see her fight back at all when there's danger around. I thought she might have more battle experience as she was raised by Ambessa. For those people wondering about her magical powers, I think she would've used them by now if she had them. Council attack aside, which could've been Viktor's magic, she wasn't able to do anything about the memorial attack or her own kidnapping. I think they're trying to show us that Mel is not as untouchable as she presents herself. Under the right circumstances, she's just as vulnerable as any civilian.

The sliver of light? My sister pointed out that it looks just like the crack of light between two double doors. Almost closed... or barely open? It appears in pretty much everyone's shot in the opening, but it's right down the center of Mel's face here. Is she torn between two sides? Is this about an impossible choice she has to make?

The spotlight is also on her. That's two sources of light. It looks like a red sun. All eyes on her as the surviving voice of the Council?

And her expression... shock, fear, horror. The heavy breathing, the look on her face... I feel eerily like I've seen it on someone else before. I can't place who, but I'm getting déjà vu from this. Does anyone else recognize this expression and these mannerisms?

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club��wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know. 

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy?  Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men. 

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment.  You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can’t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over.  She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality. 

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado…

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[ashomodeus]

Hi all, it's been a minute... Work has been really rough. I promise I haven't disappeared again. Here's this.

Where is each brother + Dateables favorite place to... connect with Mc.

Gn!Mc, Smut warning, bad grammar, take a shot every time breeding is mentioned, food porn for Beel.

Why am I at work for 12 hours???

Thank you, Beyonce, for providing me with this phone to write. She's my ghost writer if anyone asks. If her lawyers ask, this is a joke.

Lucifer 》 His study

●With under the desk support from Mc all his stress is magically gone.

●No one bothers him when he's in his study, meaning hours... and I mean hours could go past and no one would question why he's in there so long.

●Would test Mc's limits, having them cock warm him as he finishes his last bit of work. Don't think that Mc is the only one being teased. Lucifer has always been able to focus on one thing at a time but with Mc there? Forget it. 'How would Mc look bent over there, How about on my desk, or right in front of the door for his brother's to hear MC is all his for the night'

●Mc giving him head while he's trying to have an important conference call.

●Having Mc lay on the couch exposing their filled holes threatening to drip out while he finishes his work.

●He has some things in his office for Mc like a designated drawer for Mc that only Mc and Lucifer can access like rope, towels, a change of underwear, some toys for Mc to use while Lucifer is busy.

Mammon 》His car

●Two things that he loves.

●His favorite thing is to recieve head while driving. He enjoys edging and pushing himself as far as possible until he has to pull over. He wants to pull over because he wants to be milked until he's weak.

● He would want to drive while pounding into Mc.He would never be able to drive without Mc again without having to pull over and masturbate to the idea of Mc being there.

●Mammon likes to convince Mc to go run an errand with him just for them to both to come back disheveled. Mammon doesn't want anyone to see Mc in that way and doesn't want anyone to hear them so he'll find a few places.

●Once Mc did a nude photo shoot in Mammons car and those photos will always remain in his empty wallet.

●Mammon hates messes in his car but he so his seats have waterproof covers for certain reasons...

Levi 》Anywhere with water

●Listen water can make you feel weightless. Since water is his strong suit he knows how to control water and make sure Mc doesn't drown.

●Beach trips normally involve Mc and Levi leaving for a swim and not coming back for hours. Mc would think the sand would get everywhere but devildoms sand is so much different.

●Levi loves sneaking into the shower while Mc is showering. Sometimes, he just loves to watch Mc. He especially gets turned on if Mc doesn't notice he's there watching. He slowly strips as he walks into the shower with Mc, only startling them for a second. He loves taking the shower head and putting it on sensitive places of Mc's increasing water pressure the more sensitive Mc got.

● He loves "accidentally" spilling water on Mc while gaming together.

Satan 》 Library

●Knowledge is power and just when he think he's read every book. There's a new series he can read. Once he met Mc it was a bit difficult to focus on both reading and Mc. He soon realized he can have it both.

●Having Mc read to him while he fucks them. He would stop everytime Mc would stop. He just loved felling Mc tense as he stopped.

●Another fun thing to him is that Mc would have to keep quiet since they were in a public place. The rush he got thinking of someone walking in on him having his cock rammed into the beloved Mc.

●He keeps a list of books to the said that he thinks would sound a lot better with Mc's breathy moans. He also finds it as great stress relief. They would sneak into the library after hours so Mc could make as much noise as possible.

●Sometimes when they're reading together Satan makes Mc wear a vibrating toy and silently turns it on and off when he pleases.

Asmo 》His bedroom

●Asmo is an expert when it comes to connecting. His room has all the necessities. Sound proofing, toys, ropes, leashes, wax, towels, everything. He could give Mc a facial mask after giving them facial.

●Theres a mirror on the ceiling that is right above the bed, mirrors everywhere. If Mc was having a low confidence day he would cover up the mirrors or fuck Mc in front of them in every position to show them how hot they truly are.

●Asmo room also has a camera that follows sound so he can record whenever they are fucking but of course that involves being loud enough.

●Sometimes Asmo will indulge in black coffee because he doesn't want to loose energy or stamina. He wants Mc to do so many things and make sure that Mc's mind is just full of how good they feel and how horny they are.

Beel 》 Kitchen or bedroom

●Duh

●Food play. He loves nyotaimori/ namtaimori; Body sushi, Human tray. He loves to layout his favorite foods on Mc, keeping them as protected as possible. He also would love to fuck Mc with a certain things then eat them. Ie: Cucumber. He wants to see how much of the thick cucumber Mc could take, licking the cucumber in-between tries. Then proceeding to eat it after.

●His fantasy would involve him coming down for a midnight snack and Mc is there surrounded by his favorite food. Mc being just as hungry for Beel as he is for them.

●Ever since the few nights Mc slept on Beels bed. He's been hungry. Their smell is permanently embedded into the bed. He would want to fuck Mc in that bed. He would give Mc a lot of oral. Making sure to taste every drop of them.

●He would to fill up Mc with his load to make sure Mc is as full as he is.Though he's very considerate Mc should expect a bit of soreness next day.

Belphie 》 Attic

●A place to be by himself in a cozy bed Mc riding him as he's slowly woken up.

●The attic is a quiet place. He normally dreams the most about Mc in this room. If anyone tries to interrupt their time together Belphie will quickly cum inside Mc and plug their hole with their underwear. He likes to see them squirm around at the discomfort of the underwear getting soaked with Belphie's juices.

●He likes waking up Mc with him about to cum on their face. He also loves sleepy horny sex where they can't even tell what's where.

●Belphie is extremely possessive so everything is on his stuff. It's not because he's lazy It's because their sent keeps him calm and makes him want- actually NEED them.

●He once used bedsheets to tie up Mc to the bed to overstimulate and exhaust them.

Solomon 》 Anywhere and everywhere

●Mc's room, his room, over here, over there, everywhere. Solomon is proud he scored the hottest human out there. He will fuck Mc when he wants wherever he wants. The idea of someone walking in on them makes him fuck Mc’s throat harder.

●One of his favorite places is the empty classroom right next to an active classroom.

●He admits to watching Mc change in their bedroom from an enchanted mirror he gifted them.

●He loves to tease Mc while they are out. Together they can make a single trip turn into an 8 hour errands day. Once he had Mc pinned in an alleyway while feeling them up and giving them aggressive hickies. He walked away as if nothing happened and Mc weak knees would struggle to carry themselves.Mc would get so desprate that they would drag Solomon to another alleyway and they would be at it for at least an hour.

Diavolo》 The balcony of the Castle or even hidden rooms

●He loves to show what he can offer Mc besides he massive cock. Of course he's anxious to rule devildom but he will do what needs to be done. Mc grounds him. What he doesn't tell Mc is that it's practically impossible to see that balcony. He would never jeopardize Mc or anyone's respect. The balcony gives him time to think a time to feel and reflect. Making Mc feels good makes him feel good.

●He loves exposing Mc's gaping hole towards the balcony. It shows everyone that only he can fill that hole.

●Diavolo is constantly hiding from Barbatos and he loves to drag Mc with him. Sometimes Diavolo forgets what rooms are in this huge castle so it's an adventure with Mc. Small rooms where Mc can barely move due to being pinned by Diavolo. He loves the rush of hiding and trying to be as quickly as possible. He wants to please every part of Mc.

●He loves when Barbatos finds themsawsee and he awkwardly leaves while Diavolo continues.

Barbatos 》 Mc's room

●He wants Mc to be as comfortable as they can be. He enjoys giving Mc massages. Waiting on Mc hand and foot. He wants Mc as comfortable as possible.

●He's more of a pleasure dom than anything. He gets off by just seeing Mc sprawled out on the bed shaking from pleasure. He could simply cum to the thought of it. It's private and quiet. He doesn't have to worry about anyone else except Mc. After he Mc into mush he'll be in the kitchen cooking them their favorite meal. Just to give them enough energy for a round two. He would snap photos of the exhausted Mc to keep for later just to stare.

●Mc's room is also good for Barbatos because Diavolo won't bother him as much. Barbatos only uses his demon form when he wants to fill all of Mcs holes.

●Any messes made in the room he'll clean it up. Since he knows he'll be cleaning anything that happens to get dirty. He's into a lot of WAM (wet and messy) Mainly with saliva, cum, sweat. The more the better it shows him he's doing a good job at pleasing Mc.

Simeon 》 Mc’s bedroom

●He wants Mc to be comfortable. He's never really felt as calm and confident ever since meeting Mc. When Mc looks like they are calm it calms him. Simeon feels safe to sort of lose control. He's a tease outside of the bedroom but now he can actually act out everything he wants to do. By everything, he means everything. Everyday he thinks of a new way He could fuck Mc or even have Mc fuck him.

●Mc's room feels familiar enough for the both of them. Of course it's a bit difficult when the brothers are home but that's when Simeon implements the quiet game. He slams himself into Mc and see how long it takes for Mc to almost give out.

●He loves texting Mc to meet him in their room. He's just so excited to be able to show Mc he's not just an Angel. He can make Mc feel things that they have yet to feel.

●They barely use the bed. Simeon likes to make sure there's a different position everytime. His mind is corrupted by how many positions or how many times can he make Mc cum that night.

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hopefully this doesn't come off as snarky, but I find it genuinely hilarious that every "big-name" Leona fan that I've seen seems to like him against their will lol. I've always had Leona as my favorite, so it's fun to see the journey other people go through to liking/appreciating him!

Look 💦 I can’t speak for other L*ona likers (regardless of size, honestly; I'm a firm believer that one's level of internet fame isn't a factor in the devotion for a character) but for me—to quote Scar—“my words are a matter of pride.” And by confessing to (ick 🤢) LIKING LION… it’s throwing all that pride out of a window. It seriously does feel like these feelings exist against my will.

I have a summary of my story to explain my relationship with the lion lore 💀 I call it a summary, but it’s still kind of long— It's below the cut for those who are interested!

To begin with, the promotional materials didn’t sell me on him. Everything about how he initially presents—from his arrogance to his “tough/bad boy” design (seriously, that biker-cowboy combo of his dorm uniform is SO ugly and shows way too much skin for my liking…)—was so unappealing to me. He seemed exactly like the kind of character and tropes I tend to dislike. The only “good” thing I saw in him was his face (which, ironically, is what Vil says about him) and maybe his UM chant particularly the line where he demands you kneel before him. Then comes along book 2, which is easily the weakest of the main story and does a HUGE disservice to him, making L*ona seem a lot stupider than he actually is. At that point, I had basically written his entire character off. I claimed to all my Twst friends that there was nothing that would ever make me like him.

Around 2022, I decided to get involved in a round of EBG (Epic Bias Game) which is basically like a test of your will?? You’re supposed to compete with your friends to see who can go for the longest without talking about or acknowledging their oshi (which includes not being able to react to fan works of them). As part of EBG, each participant was randomly assigned a “new oshi” to replace the usual one AND GUESS WHAT, I GOT HANDED L*ONA BY THE WHEEL OF FATE 💀

One of my friends (who knew I hardcore hated him at the time) assured me that this would get me to change my mind. They even went out of their way to write a little story explaining how my OC was forced to spend more time with L*ona, which led me into writing interactions between them to build more of the lore. I managed to outlast the friend in EBG, but didn’t win the entire game. I came out of it not really feeling super different about L*ona, but I think forcing myself to write about him extensively helped me gain a little more perspective on his character. I still didn’t like him, but I at least appreciated his presence in the cast a little more.

AND THEN TWST HAD TO COME AND BASH ME OVER THE HEAD WITH L*ONA CONTENT… All the little vignettes and voice lines where other characters would talk about what a good leader he is (*glares at Epel, Jack, Ruggie, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.*), when he sarcastically claims to be a “delicate prince” or a “lost child”, those moments where he sasses others, times when he’s able to use his charisma and/or intelligence to pull ahead, rare instances when he whips out his royal manners, him respecting women… But I think the turning point for me had to have been book 6 OTL GOOD LORD, BOOK 6 FUCKED ME UP 😭 Him using his UM in a creative way to turn falling glass shards into harmless sand? And strategically turning himself in?? Willingly ceding control of the dorm to Ruggie??? Telling everyone about Styx’s lore???? AND THE BEEF HE HAD WITH JAMIL BUT STILL GIVING HIM WISDOM AND ADVICE… Sometimes I still tear up thinking about how L*ona says “You’re not like me,” to Jamil 😔 implying that part of the reason why L*ona guides others is because he has hope in their futures but not his own… (I’m still salty that EN messed up this line by changing it to “I’m not like you,” which makes him come off as way more arrogant 💦) Anyway, I blame book 6 for being the tipping point in my downward spiral 🌀 IT GOT WORSE IN BOOK 7 WHEN HE STARTED SHOWING HE'S MOTIVATED TO ACTUALLY GRADUATE AND TAKES ON AN INTERNSHIP THAT COULD BENEFIT HIS COUNTRY... Special shoutout to the Club Wear card for being especially hot-- I did my best to hold out against the steady drip of content that called attention to his… positive traits… (Not that I’m saying he doesn’t have any; I mean this in that whenever his strengths as a character are brought up, they really get to me as someone who loves intelligent, mature/responsible types and “big brother” figures OTL) BUT IT'S SO HARD WHEN TWST KEEPS PULLING STUFF LIKE THAT???

Then in 2024 came the stupid Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event 💀 which finally introduced us to L*ona in full formal attire (MY WEAKNESS) and gave him the opportunity to be in the role of the "hero" and leader... and those Nightmare Suit vignettes 😭 Leona thinking about what it actually means to be "king"... Ugh, it was another strong showing of his character. I'm pretty sure it was this event that started the snowball of my friends (lovingly) bullying me about him and calling me a tsundere about it. Weirdly enough, a BUNCH of things started happening irl to push L*ona at me too. For example, my pet (who usually actively avoids or attacks Twst stuff) was actually eager to pose for a picture with a L*ona standee. In a group fan merch order, I had asked for the bonus Grim sticker but the artist (who had no idea about my complicated thoughts on L*ona) said they were out of the Grim sticker but they had L*ona stickers they could include instead. Most recently, I had just finished this last-minute artwork of Miss Raven eating pocky by herself to celebrate Pocky Day (11/11). Typically the fan art you'd see on this day would involve two characters playing the "Pocky Game" (in which the players try to eat a stick of pocky from either end; usually it's framed as romantic since meeting in the middle results in a kiss). However, I had chosen to do a solo Miss Raven art because I thought this suited her "I want to be taken seriously!" personality better. Well, guess what? I GOT A PACKAGE DELIVERY NOTIFICATION FOR THE TWST MERCH ORDER... WITH L*ONA IN IT 💀 Almost like he heard there was food meant for sharing and he came to claim it for himself... Like I literally did NOT choose for these things to happen to me, THEY HAPPENED ON THEIR OWN. I DON'T BELIEVE IN PREORDAINED EVENTS BUT THE UNIVERSE SURE IS WORKING IN STRANGE WAYS.

So now that the tables have turned, it’s really embarrassing. Everything is coming back to bite me in the butt… It truly feels like L*ona plotted this all along and was on the prowl, patiently waiting for me to get worn down before he pounces and delivers the final blow to my ego OTL Like, it's gotten to the point where many of my long-time friends in the Twst community are now joking that "It's over" for J word... ONE OF THEM EVEN TOLD ME IT FEELS LIKE I'M GETTING DIVORCED AND L*ONA IS THEIR NEW STEPDAD, HOW AM I SUPPSOED TO FEEL ABOUT HTHAT ??????????? ? ? ????? ? ??? ? ?? ?? ? ???? ?

But by the far the worst, the WORST part about everything here is that if L*ona were fully sentient, he would be so smug about recent developments 😡 It makes me SO mad thinking about how he'd look down on me with that hot smug rage-inducing smirk of his and make fun of me for eating my words so badly.

“What was that you said about hating my guts, herbivore? … Hah, it's written all over your face--you're terrible at hiding your true feelings. You can just give in, you know. Tell me how much you worship me. How much you want me. You'll give in eventually one way or another--so why not make this easier for the both of us and save us the time of playing the wait game? I don't bite, promise." (<- a liar)

(Disclaimer: NOT MY MERCH; this is a L*ona Liker friend’s picture that they’re letting me use as a reaction image 😅)

THIS IS FR MY OVERBLOT ORIGIN STORY…

[the-architect-of-ferrari]

hey guys! I was formerly fellow-meme-lover but I have retired that name after like 7 years. I am now @the-architect-of-ferrari in honor of that one article about Carlos (pictured). I’m a little surprised no one had taken that username yet but I’ll gladly have it.

I decided to change my name because I want it to reflect the main focus of my blog moving forward: Carlos Sainz. This is also going to be a bit of a goodbye to Ferrari post and clarifying what my blog will look like after AD24. So continue reading after the cut if you’re interested.

I am a fairly recent f1 fan, I only started casually watching late into the 2023 season, and it wasn’t until the winter break that I started getting serious about f1 and more involved.

It was during this time that I discovered Charlos, and they were my absolute favorite duo on the entire grid. I remember thinking the entire Ferrari team was a giant mess, and that the only thing they had going for them was their driver pairing. I spent the off-season watching old interviews with them, seeing posts about them on tumblr and twitter, and learning everything about them that I could. I initially liked Charles more, as he was the first driver I really learned about, and I will always be fond of him for gifting me this sport and fandom that means so much to me.

Over time though, I naturally gravitated more towards Carlos. I couldn’t explain it but there was something about him that connected me to him, and soon his happiness was my happiness and his sadness was my sadness. When the news of Lewis’s move to Ferrari dropped on February 1st, I was devastated. I could only think of how Ferrari was Carlos’s dream and it was now coming to an end. All season I’ve been dreading having to make this post, having to say goodbye, but I can’t put it off forever. I truly believe that the team hasn’t done right by Carlos in a lot of ways, but it was his dream, and I want him to be happy more than anything else, and for his sake I sincerely hope that a return to Ferrari is possible one day. I think he will be happy to know that regardless of what the future holds, he will always be a part of the team’s history, and everything he gave to them will not be forgotten.

As for Charlos as a duo, they were always the duo I loved the most of the entire grid. It wasn’t always easy at times, with their occasional fights, with the frequent fan wars, and the accusations of it being a PR friendship. But I think if you went back and watched old videos of them together, you can see the fondness in their eyes clear as day, and it lingers in their familiarity with each other to this day. Four years as teammates isn’t nothing. I don’t know that anyone will be able to make me laugh as hard as they did, or cheer me up on a bad day the way they did. In the future, even if they’re not teammates I will still try to post about them as much as possible, even if it’s a 3 second clip of them chatting at a driver’s parade or something idc.

But with that said, my no.1 driver from now on will always be Carlos, and so what I post will reflect that. As a Charlos fan, I was reluctantly a Ferrari fan because that is the team they drove for, but now I will be with Carlos 100%. I will no longer be solely posting about charles and carlos, and instead will post things more like what i have been posting lately, which will include other driver pairings like versainz. I’ll also just post general f1 stuff sometimes if i think i have something important to say. But mostly i will be talking about Carlos.

For now though, let’s make the rest of this season count. I’ll be with you always, Carlos.

¡Vamos, toro!

[junktastic]

Hi everynyan,

Some of you will remember that I was taking names/addresses to send out free stickers in September. I am almost done sending them out now, so here's a quick update on that.

The Good!

I like this a lot! It's fun to do. For reference, I'm printing, laminating, and cutting these myself at home, so I'm learning a lot about my machine. I like being in charge of the quality control, I like doing the logistic work. Idk. It's fulfilling to me.

It's also really delightful to see names on the list who I've known of for a long time. Old and new faces, people all over the world, I love seeing people adopt a catgirl. :3 And for free! I'm by no means making a lot, but being able to provide something fun and physical to the people who enjoy my art for free is just! Wow!

The Bad!

Everything that could have gone wrong during this process did, which is why they're going out so late. The at-home manufacturing process was relatively simple but the materials kept being funky, or I'd do something wrong, so I'd have to toss something that I'd completely fucked up, OR I'd just miscount how much stuff material I had left. It's been a pain in the butt, so I'm glad it's done and that I've learned so much from it. I ALMOST FORGOT, I DESTROYED ONE CUTTING MAT MAKING THAT ROGER STANDEE FOR MY WEDDING LOL SO I HAD TO SPEND TIME CONDITIONING THE NEW CUTTING MAT! UGH!

There's also: the money. I know it's gauche to talk about it, but doing this was pretty expensive. I live in Canada now, and most of the letters were going out of Canada, so that postage added up. Materials cost, time, it's a pretty good chunk of change, but I didn't go broke so I want to do it again.

The Other?

I definitely want (and plan) to do this again very soon. I'm talking within this month. I'm making Christmas cards! I've already set money aside for this so it's all good, and it involves less at-home manufacturing since I can just reach out to a local print shop.

I know some people were wary of the google form, but I can't really find a better alternative at this time. MailChimp has had at least one major information leak in 2024 alone, so I am not sure where else to turn for collecting addresses at this time. I had a few people who did not give me towns/zip codes, and the street address would have three or four towns in that state alone with that address. Since I didn't collect e-mail addresses, I didn't have any way to reach out to entrants about this. If you don't see your sticker in the next few weeks, this might be why! I also plan on adding a checkbox just to confirm that the person requesting the sticker is over 18, NOT because I plan on sending anything saucy, but I know what it's like to be a teen with parents who open you mail, an I don't want to cause problems for anyone because Mom and Dad think fairies are satanic or something.

Most people I've talked to about all of this have really emphasized that I need to reopen my Patreon. I'm not saying anybody is wrong on this, but it just makes me feel so uncomfortable. I think anyone who's followed me for a while has seen me try and fail to do art full time or, hell, even have a schedule for something, and I've failed every time. I'm so scared of failing people again. How can I ensure that I'm producing things on time, to a standard I am happy with, that anyone willing to support me (in this economy?) would also be happy with? It will probably happen, but I'm just so... Plus, with all honesty, I have a commission backlog that I need to finish first! I'm bad at the business part of this whole thing, I think. I'm a blue-collar labourer in my heart.

That's my update! I wish you all well, please stay safe and take care of yourself and those around you. I'll post again when I'm collecting addresses for the Christmas cards.

[belle-rosse]

Hi! i wanted to ask about ur thoughts on the part where jinx said "this wasnt supposed to happen" during the fight scene in the temple! Bc it seems to me some part of her hoped that vi wouldnt kill her and GOD it pains me!!!!

Hi!! Thanks for asking me about this bcs that scene has not left my mind since I first saw it but I just couldn’t put it into words!!!

Jinx has always viewed death as something good, a place where she and Vi can be together, an opportunity to become sisters again.

Part of this is also reflected in her suicide attempt (which nearly succeeded if Silco hadn’t interrupted) in s1x07, where she also sacrificed Ekko’s life. Jinx wants to die with someone she loves close to her.

Now, Jinx’s decision to use The Grey against Piltover happens after the events of s2x02, after she witnesses the brutality with which the enforcers terrorize Zaun with that very same gas. What hurts her the most is seeing that her sister is part of it.

When Jinx tells Sevika that she’s planning to finish what’s left of her family, she’s not referring to Vi; she’s referring to herself. In her eyes, she sees that Vi has completely given up on her, that her sister was Powder, not Jinx. It’s something she likely expected but never really admitted. After all, their last interaction was based on Vi trying to reach Powder one last time. But not this time. Vi won’t save her again. Jinx has to die.

The plan in the pipeworks in s2x03 is clearly another suicide attempt. The drawings on the pillars depicting her entire life, the collapse, one last threat to Piltover, “I’m glad it’s you, had to be you.” Jinx was saying goodbye. Vi had to kill her, and afterward, Sevika would activate the mechanism that would end her sister and Caitlyn as well. I don’t think she expected Vi not to kill her.

But there’s something new Jinx didn’t account for, someone, actually: Isha. The brave little girl who confronts the terrifying image of an enforcer (because in her eyes, not knowing who Vi is to Jinx, she only represents oppression) to defend her. Isha being caught in the eye of the storm, right where the wind would catch her if the mechanism is activated, triggers something in Jinx. A sense of protection, the same one her sister felt towards her when she was little.

It’s in that scene, when Isha clings to her and Jinx sees Vi, that she recognizes her older sister once more, realizing the uniform is just a ridiculous disguise and that there’s still compassion in her eyes. Vi, similarly, sees Jinx’s humanity and the figure of little Powder in another child.

Isha represents the lost innocence of both, and I would even dare say of Caitlyn as well. Isha doesn’t deserve to die. To me, when Jinx says “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she’s referring to Isha’s inevitable death for getting involved in the conflict, which is why, when Sevika activates the mechanism, her first instinct is to protect Isha from where the wind is blowing instead of letting herself die.

One last attempt to see if the bad luck that curses her name spares her this once, a desperate attempt, one she didn’t even expect, to prove that not everyone who gets too close to her has to die.

I hope that answers your question!! it’s a pretty long response, though 😭

[lemotmo]

Sounds like she got lots of asks complaining about this. She removed one post I sent you earlier for what she called an 'error' on her part, but responded to one of the other complaints. As I said they're so close but still so far 😂😂😂

Q. The show did us so dirty on the Tommy and Buck relationship front. I have spent the days following Thursday's episode rewatching their storyline and they actually had very few scenes that were just for and about them. Eddie was way too involved and it allowed their relationship to be overshadowed by his presence. They only had a handful of scenes that didn't directly involve Eddie and that's just dreadfully bad storytelling. Their entire relationship happened off screen. I appreciate Tim making a point of having Eddie outright state that he is straight and I appreciate both Oliver and Ryan shutting down the nonsense as well but the way Eddie was shoehorned into that relationship for no apparent reason is laughable.

A. So heads up people. I answered one of these earlier but I included something that I couldn't find definitive proof of so if you saw that reply no you didn't, lol. The good news is I have lots of complaints about this so it wasn't difficult to find another one to reply too.

Now, anon, you know what's really crazy about the Buck/Tommy/Eddie thing? That absolutely no one tried to point out the giant Eddie shaped thread that existed throughout that entire relationship. It's crazy how not a single person caught how much Eddie was present in that relationship. Weird, huh? Now I'm going to blow your mind even more. They didn't even have a handful of scenes that were just for or about them. Yes, they had a handful of scenes that didn't directly include Eddie, but he was still a factor in each of those scenes. Eddie was not present for their first kiss, but he was the topic of conversation leading up to the kiss. Eddie wasn't in the room when they had their second kiss, but he was there, and the show made a point of showing his reaction to the kiss. Eddie wasn't present for the night at the loft following Buck's shoulder injury, but he was the one who was actually with Buck at the hospital, and he was the one Tommy called to come treat Buck the following morning. Eddie wasn't present for the anniversary dinner, but he was mentioned in the scene when Tommy tells Buck he can take Eddie to the Lakers game 'and die', in what I still think was foreshadowing dialogue. Eddie wasn't present for the breakup, but he's who Buck went to following the breakup. Tommy told Buck he was his first, not his last. The last shot of that episode was of Buck and Eddie. Eddie was physically present in the scene where they met. Eddie was physically present at the basketball game. Eddie was physically present at the bachelor party. Eddie was physically present at the medal ceremony. Eddie was physically present at the virtual bday party for Chris. Eddie was physically present at the hospital following Buck's injury. Eddie was physically present the morning after in the loft. Over the course of their entire relationship Buck and Tommy had ONE scene that did not directly or indirectly involve Eddie in some capacity, and that was the dinner date during the season 7 finale. But even then Buck had spent the entire episode prior to the date, with Eddie. Yes, the point of the relationship was for Buck to discover his bisexuality, but the subtext of the relationship was Eddie. Eddie was everywhere, and that was not accidental. He was purposely written into the narrative. And many, many people tried to point that out to you all. The show didn't play you or lie to you. Lou did and you all did. You played yourselves and then you paid him to lie to you as well.

The show has never had Bobby, Athena, Maddie or Chimney directly state their heterosexuality. That's not something television shows do. Being heterosexual is the assumption. When a television show has a character state it outright it's usually an indication that they won't end up being heterosexual. Actors lie all the time in interviews. It's deliberate. Their job is to make you want to watch the episodes. Not tell you directly what will happen in the episodes. Do we know for sure? No, you're correct about that. But everything the show has done so far has been very loud and not very subtle. And I'm sorry, anon, but usually a character stating their straightness is the beginning of a sexuality arc. That's kind of starting a sexuality arc 101.

Thanks Nonny! Much appreciated!

I agree with all of this. Nothing to add. Ali has slain again, as per usual. 😂

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[fish-are-fun]

Perirep Headcanons!

Irep was fucking terrified when he realized he'd begun having feelings deeper then hatred for his opposite, being the prince of anti fairies in all, being in love with a fairy after all was definitely something his father wouldn't like. For Peri he'd only realized his feeling weren't platonic till he and Irep actually kissed, he knew that dating a anti fairy was most likely stupid, dangerous, and very probably illegal

There first kiss may have been a messy angry make out session that start well they were mid fight

Irep has clawed feet so when he and Peri got to the point in there relationship where they were sleeping in the same bed he whore sock so he wouldn't accidentally cut Peri's legs. Peri just thought he was werid for the longest time till he noticed his feet once when showering

Peri is always kinda cold, he has no idea why but when he found out anti fairies naturally run warmer be was excited, but he was even happier when he found out Irep is warmer when he sleeps, now Peri tucks his feet under Irep

Irep secretly loves cheesy romance like slow dancing, walks on the beach, and cuddling by a fire, but he will never admit it. Well being the opposite Peri prefers more private dates like, watching movies at home, making dinner together, and playing games

Peri absolutely hates pickles, but Irep loves them so much, he sometimes eats them as a snack, so whenever Peri gets pickles put on something by accident he gives them to Irep and it makes him so happy

Wanda makes herself Cosmo and Peri all matching sweaters for the holidays, but when Peri told her him and Irep were dating and it got serious, she made one for him as a way of telling him he's a part of the family

Goldie insists she knew they liked eachother before they knew they liked eachother (And she probably right)

Peri used to get really jealous of Sammy when they were younger whenever he hung around Irep, and he just figured it was because he wanted to be involved and to join the fun, he only realized he was jealous when Sammy made a joke on there anniversary about how he was scared Peri was planning to killing him for a while with the death glace he give him all the time

Irep keeped a friendship bracelet Peri made and gave him when they were babys, he liked knowing that someone cared about him enough to give him a hand made gift. Peri found out once on accident when he dropped a box and it fell out, so he made new ones for them. Well Peri takes his to sleep Irep only ever takes it off to shower

Irep is a really good cook, well Peri has the power to burn water, so Irep makes Peri his favourite foods when he's had a bad day (mostly chocolate related)

I know these are long but I had fun making them!

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

The Kiss

Dread settled into his stomach as he checked the time. Again. 9pm. Either she was coming home soon or she would be gone another six hours. Seemed these dates either went wrong fast, or they went well enough for her to go home with them. If she didn’t come home until the middle of the night, the sushi he had ordered and was sitting in the fridge would be a “surprise” lunch tomorrow, as usual. One thing he had learned about her the night they had met was her love of sushi. It was her comfort food. Stressed? She wanted sushi. Sad? Sushi was the answer. Just not feeling well in general? You guessed it, sushi. Unbeknownst to Quinn he had actually started learning how to make it just so he could surprise her with it. Maybe get her in the kitchen with him to make it soon.

She would get so frustrated, but he loved cooking with her. Always so serious in the kitchen, whereas he was always coaxing her into having fun with it. Having fun with him. Quinn had a tendency to take things too seriously sometimes. Making a mess in the kitchen? She hated that. Part of him kind of loved antagonizing her a bit. The way she would look at him as he intentionally spilled the smallest amount of something on the counter. And even after all this time she still hadn’t figured out that was his warning before he would start a full on food fight with her.

Another glance at the clock. 9:20pm. If the date had gone bad early on she would be home in the next 30 minutes. She never went too far from home for the first part of the date. And if she was headed to their place after the date, she always turned location sharing back on with him. Just like he had taught her. Always meet them at the location. Stay close to home in case of emergency, and always let someone know where she was going. The fact she hadn’t shared her location with him yet was driving him insane. Logically he knew they were still at the restaurant. Which he had the address of. But the illogical part of him said she had stupidly left the restaurant with this guy and was lying in a ditch somewhere.

The front door swung open, the sound of her shoes being kicked off and hitting the wall startling him. He hadn’t even heard her key in the lock. Noah quickly checked his phone, making sure he hadn’t missed her usual “On my way home” text. Nothing. Oh, fuck. That meant one thing. The date had gone so terribly he doubted even sushi and a movie could fix it. He didn’t dare look up at her, even. The last time she had come home like this and he’d done that she went off about how she didn’t need his pity.

Usually she went straight for the kitchen and brought back the sushi that she inevitably made him eat with her. This time, however, she flung herself down on the couch, her body stretching out beside him while her head found its place in his lap. This was new. Unusual. Had it really been that bad? Slightly terrified of what he would find he looked down at her, noting that while there weren’t any marks on her, at least not on her face, it was obvious she had been crying. Her makeup was smudged just so.

“Hey, baby. What’s wrong?” His voice was quiet. Calm in spite of the confusion and anger swirling inside him. What the fuck had happened?

“He spent the entire hour at the restaurant talking about how much money he makes and how cool his stupid fucking car is.”

Okay. He was right. Dude was a total tool. But that didn’t explain the state she came home in.

“What the fuck did he do?”

Guilt pierced him when she flinched at his raised voice, but he couldn’t stop himself. The thought that he had hurt her, that this waste of oxygen might have put his hands on her, was driving him up the wall.

“Quinn! What the fuck did he do?!” He pulled her up to sit in his lap, his hands wandering over her as he searched for injuries.

“He didn’t touch me, Noah.” She swallowed, finally meeting his eyes. “He made a gross comment about goth girls, and I ended the date.”

Relief surged through him and he clutched her against him, hugging her as tight as he could without hurting her. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of peaches that always clung to her. That scent had become home to him. Shit, she was home for him. This asshole hadn’t put his hands on her. At least there was that.

“He-he followed me outside. Told me good luck finding a man that would put up with me. And…Noah, he’s fucking right. Look at my track record. Look at how we met! I was some sad, heartbroken girl drinking her sorrows away.”

Quinn broke. Right there in his arms. His words from earlier rang loud as fuck in his head. Telling her she had shitty taste in men. Her broken sobs, muffled by his shoulder, shattered him into millions of little pieces. She had never sounded like this before. Not even the night they had met. No matter what happened she never broke like this. So he did the only thing he could think to do at that moment. He took her head in his large hands, lifted it off his shoulder, and pressed his lips against hers in the hope that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[all-pacas]

i know i've talked about it before but god. when house and chase are alone together their vibe is just.

chase is usually deeply and pretty happily subservient to house. he's the boss/mentor, chase is the underling. where cameron and foreman both push to be house's equal, chase really never does: he's happy to follow along. but then you get them alone. every now and then chase just strolls in and reveals he can see through house perfectly, and house … never really gets offended or annoyed by this. he's pretty indulgent. he even enjoys it. "sometimes i forget why i hired you," he says, pleased.

in the jerk chase calls him out for cancelling foreman's interview. unlike when foreman did the same, house admits it, clearly pleased to be caught. chase offers him advice:

CHASE: You cost him a good opportunity and gained nothing. HOUSE: I cost him a crappy opportunity. New York Mercy's where you go to treat boils and cysts and build a 401K. CHASE: If you want him to stay, tell him. HOUSE: I don't and there'd be no point. CHASE: You do. And the point would be to make him feel like he's wanted. HOUSE: He doesn't need that. CHASE: All right, then. It'd make him feel like maybe you weren't evil. He needs that. Talk to Foreman.

he gives him orders. and house doesn't push back, doesn't dismiss chase for trying to lecture him, answers honestly.

in human error, they actually briefly continue this conversation; chase's frustration at house not taking his advice leads to his outburst that leads to his firing. (not that house fired him for getting involved or nosy.)

and then no more mr nice guy comes around, and they go bowling. first of all: this is the only time in the series house has ever invited anyone who is not named wilson out without it being a bet or a bribe. he really needed a bowling partner and went chase. but the same thing happens.

CHASE: So what are you going to do to screw up Wilson's relationship so you don't have to listen to me while you bowl? HOUSE: I wish the best for them and their tragically deformed children. CHASE: Well, she's good… At being bad. You might not be able to destroy her. HOUSE: Well as long as I give it my best shot, I can hold my head high. CHASE: Cameron had this one insufferable friend. She wasn't going to get rid of her and I sure wasn't going to join them, so I just said, see her on Thursday's. I know it's not as exciting as an exploding birthday cake, but, hell, I don't want to hang out with her every night anyway. HOUSE: That's amazing. Cameron only has one insufferable friend?

(insufferable friend you will always be a legend) chase just! jumps in! gives advice! completely casually, like it's nothing, house not blowing him off or dismissing what he says. later in the episode, he takes this advice and tries to work out joint custody with amber.

it isn't that house never takes other people's advice. he quite commonly solicits opinions. cameron and foreman have also both offered house their takes, and he's sometimes even listened. but usually he's dismissive. he's sarcastic. he doesn't have a conversation about it, he listens and does what he wants. chase can just stroll in and say stuff and house engages.

and of course there's my favorite example of all, from the social contract, when house needs a surgery done:

CHASE: You want me to help you? Tell me why. HOUSE: Why what? CHASE: Why you care. The puzzle's solved. The guy's alive. And the odds of coming out of this surgery with that same status aren't that great. HOUSE: My patient has a quality of life issue. CHASE: He says awful things. Hardly a medical condition. HOUSE: When he leaves here, he's going to lose his family. He's gonna alienate the people he works with. And if he ever finds a friend who's willing to put up with his crap, he'll be lucky. Until he drives them away too. CHASE: …I'll see what I can do.

he gets the truth. house all but says i identify with this person, i want the surgery done for me. chase doesn't ask questions, he gets it. but also he asks house why, and he gets an answer. no bullshit, no evasion.

we've all joked about how chase gets house, but it's like. he really does. he's incredibly observant, he's good at reading people, it's why house hired him. but he also doesn't… push. he doesn't use this ability to push house. he's not constantly trying to poke and prod and fix and understand house (because he kind of already does), but in return it means chase can jump in and just say stuff. because he doesn't make demands, because he doesn't ask anything of house, the few times he does, house tends to respond honestly in return. it makes me. insane