#Come on how would he know a person is attacking

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

���I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[nemesyaaa]

soft heart shaped // brother's ennemy!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; there was a fair reason of why your brother always keeping you away from the kook boys, even his own friends. there was also a fair a reason of why he wouldn't let you around his ennemy.

warnings ; +18 content. reader is kind of innocent but it doesn't involve rafe having a kink/or attraction about it. mean!rafe. intox kink/drugging. protective!brother. daddy issues. smut. oral(f&m r.). dumbification. daddy kink. light of violence. little age gap. mentions of stalking. soft!crybaby. p in v. dubcon. lil background. again, be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; as much as i love the brother's bsf trope, the brother's ennemy concept ran into my mind. i also wanted to add ; reader and her brother are kooks. it's not about pogues matters. i'm sorry if it's kinda shitty.

your brother always made sure you were safe and you had everything you needed. it was understandable knowing that none of your parents had been home for so long. he made sure that you always had what you wanted, and that you didn't have to lift a finger, or sweat a single drop to get it. all you had to do was ask for it to be wrapped in a gift at your bed. you were the youngest, the little princess who had to be spoiled and pampered, the one to whom we granted every whim, the one to whom we said amen without necessarily being a believer, the one we looked at hoping that she would always remain as beautiful and innocent, but also the one we always admired from afar because she wasn't allowed to be with boys alone.

your brother was one of those siblings who could have been the child prodigy if your parents were still around. he always had good grades at school, always praised by his teachers, and he knew how to play a musical instrument. It seemed that when you heard him playing the piano, you stopped crying. you had heard him play so many times, sitting on his lap, his hands sliding across the keyboard as he gently pushed your fingers on the piano keys, hoping that a few notes would calm you down.

he was protective. he had always lost interest in other girls just to only care about you. he was protective because he didn't want you to suffer, and because he knew the kook boys. even though he hated pogues, he knew you'd be safer with one of them than one of those rich boys with so many privileges.

one of them was particularly his enemy. rafe cameron. the one and only son of ward cameron. the businessman who controlled the island but was also one of your father's former best friends. you had seen him so many times in your house with all his children and his trophy wife.

rafe had always been a little weird around you. he always said he was there for your brother but it was always you he looked at. he always found an excuse to be with you. sometimes you wonder if it wasn't a question of ego.

you knew he and your brother didn't get along. they were always arguing and fighting. “I forbid you from hanging out with him.” your brother had warned you once, after coming back with an ugly black eye on the face. “is that him? " you asked shyly, swallowing hard. his gaze was fierce. “exactly. that’s why you have to listen to me. ”

did that necessarily make Rafe Cameron a dangerous person? You wondered because your brother could also be very violent. never towards you. but towards others.

could rafe cameron attack princesses like you, didn't you deserve better treatment? you were always so confused.

but one day, you knew that your brother had shot Rafe at a party. and after that he was gone, nothing more. you were alone at home. there was no one left.

He didn't respond to your messages or your calls. if he was no longer there, there were no more rules, no more prohibitions, right? you were totally free. you could wear the clothes you wanted, talk to whoever you wanted, come home at the time you wanted, go wherever you wanted. you no longer needed permission or approval. you no longer had any chains.

so you went to this kook party that everyone was talking about and that Sarah absolutely wanted you to come. she said you needed that, rather than staying alone in your castle.

When you arrived there, your heart was racing. Sure, your brother wasn't there to judge you, or tell you to go home, but you had the impression of feeling his warning dark stare through all these people looking at you.

you wanted to turn around, to run away. you heard people talking, music blaring from the speakers, all these drunken bodies pressed together which made you even more transparent. It wasn’t long before you started smelling like alcohol, drugs, and sex, the scent exploding in every corner.

while you were still thinking about leaving, you moved away but your back hitted someone's chest. a hand was placed on your shoulder to hold you close then a slightly mocking chuckle was heard in your ear.

“Careful, baby. "

you turned to confront the person. “rafe. " you announced without surprise.

"Such a face. I might think you're disappointed."

“I was looking for Sarah.”

“It’s a shame. She’s not here.”

“I’m leaving then.”

"I'm afraid you're not going anywhere." he mocked gently.

you looked at him strangely. he was there in front of you, with a drink in his hand, and his body was blocking your way.

“It’s not a game.”

“oh princess, it’s not because you don’t play that no one plays. and you see… when I look at you in this ridiculous tight outfit and especially alone, I really want to play.”

“you’re sick.” you replied.

"yes." he simply replied "but baby, everyone knows it, it's not a secret. on the other hand..." he leaned over to whisper something in your ear. “i would like to know how much you are too willing yourself to come to my party without your brother to protect you.”

“I don’t need him.” you defended yourself, stepping back so as not to be seen so close to him. “I’m a big girl.”

"yea, such a big girl. look at you, you managed to dress yourself." he teased you with a laugh. “ i'm joking, i admit you're pretty. why that face, baby ? i thought that little dress of yours wanted some rafe validation. ”

“you’re really not funny.”

"I think above all that you should relax. and I can help you with that..." he suggested softly. but all his sympathy was so fake. “have a drink.”

you laughed sarcastically and his smile widened. he had followed you into the crowd, acting like a bodyguard so you wouldn’t get lost among the people. he placed an arm around your waist, the size of his hands groping at your hips, pretending to be a gentleman when this kindness was purely ridiculous.

“don’t touch me. ” you snapped.

“too late. i just did.” he replied. “If you didn’t want me around, you shouldn’t have come here. you don’t make the rules in my house. ”

“It’s called harassment.”

“oh isn't-it a big word for little girls like you? is that what your bro told you to say if i touch you? ”

it was so annoying to see him openly making fun of you. to believe that you had not grown or evolved for him.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked kindly.

“you think you’re going to drug me without my knowledge?” you laughed. " Nice try but forget about it."

he took a sip of his drink and responded with an emotionless voice. “you’re wrong.”

"what? you would never have drugged me? stop lying."

"no I mean. I wouldn't have done it without your knowledge." and he left with a smirk.

you grimaced before taking a drink at the bar. you had inspected the inside before drinking it because you didn't trust anyone here. and Sarah wasn't there which was weird since her boyfriend, Topper was there.

you had managed to relax after several drinks, and you wanted to take a seat on the huge sofa in the salon but it was full. so you found a space upstairs in one of the empty rooms.

you had barely sat down on the bed when the door was already opening to reveal someone. rafe cameron. again.

“are you stalking me?”

"I'm not sure you'd like the answer, baby. but I'll let you guess. after all, you're a big girl."

"Can you stop doing that? Do you think I'm scared because my brother isn't here anymore?"

"you see, I didn't really like the fact that he shot me. Do you know how much it hurts to be shot? No, I'm sure you don't. Little princesses like you have no awareness of the real world, right? ” he knelt between your legs, keeping them apart with a hand, and lightly pinching your forehead to get into your brain. “ If we don't tell them anything, they know nothing. ”

"I'm not stupid. I know it hurts but I didn't do anything to you. I'm not my brother."

“yes, you’re pretty.” he admitted, caressing the inside of your thighs, massaging them slowly to get your attention. "so pretty that you always got what you want when you want, right? but it's not really fair to me. I've never had that privilege. but you... you're an angel , a blessing, will you grant it to me?”

using your kindness against you, no one had ever done that to you. you were always so nice to people. you were incapable of saying no, of resisting, of being mean. This was far from your behavior.

“What do you want?”

" This. ” he had lifted the bottom of your dress gently, before revealing your panties, and revealing your pussy.

“Are you looking for revenge?”

“I would never do such a thing. I have always liked you. You're sweet…” he placed one of his fingers against your pussy, sliding it against your slick without pushing them inside your walls, just enough to leave them sticky with your wetness. he also caressed your swollen clit, addressing little circles to make it throb under his touch. you gasped loudly, his thumb playfully toying around your bullied nub. you didn't know what he was looking for but when he started to touch you more insistently, you wanted to close your legs but he blocked them with a hand to force you to let them spread. “ stay still, i'm not done. ”

he wanted to get a wide view of your pussy clamping against his fingers, to see how obedient and a good girl you could be when it came to sex.

“so sweet…” he said as he fingered your glistening cunt, forcing the stretch of your hole with strengthful strokes.

you were so tight he could feel each of his fingers moving inside you as you were grinding your hips to them. but more importantly your walls were clenching around them. the sound was obscene and viscous, as you welcomed every vibration inside your body. you were hot and your mouth was filled with breathy moans. his pace was fast and gentle as if he didn't want to hurt you. “ here it is…that's a big girl right now…”

all his three fingers were buried inside you. their thickness brushing every corner of your walls. he lighty sped up, leaving you to gasp louder while his digits ruined you. “ look at you, sweet angel turning into a little whore. is that what dad and big bro left the home, because they can't handle you anymore ? ” he rushed a deep stroke as he spoke, causing your back to arche widely and sobbing more.

you turned your head, trying to get his raspy voice and mean words out of your mind but you were a little dizzy. he was annoying with all this teasing and you can't barely stand it. but with his fingers buried in your sore insides, he had the control of your whole body. he got your pussy so easily on his side,stuffing your slutty core, and fucking you all way from to the hitting spot that was made you scream harder. he was driving his fingertips so hard that hot rush of tears was flowded over your cheeks. he didn't shut you up even if you were still at the party, because he wanted to hear you, from the little cries and sniffles, to the breathy voice and spitting babbles over your mouth. his fingers were so quick and you wanted to try to make him slow down by placing a hand on his, but that only motivated him to go faster. you had no choice but to squirm, while his gaze bore into your face.

you flushed, as he was working his fingers further in your cunt. he was hard for you to the point he started to feel the pain of boner in his pants. the music outside the room was nothing against the sloppy wet sounds of your pussy over his digits. the way he was pressuring your clit while making evil and forceful back and forth in your hole was enough to make you lose your mind.

you thought he was going to leave after making you cum, that he had gotten what he wanted but you were wrong.

he had searched for something in the drawer. a bottle of lube. and you thought that was it.

when he was back at you, his cock was wet and glowy with some substance. “i'm gonna make you very pretty, baby.” he said, before tearing your lips in two with his tip, forcing you to open your mouth wider and take him.

he pushed his cock into you without warning, leaving you no choice to do your job. you wrapped your hand around the end of his shaft, while your mouth sank around his member. you had started to suck him, your lips forming a tight but deep well around his cock. everything was wet with your own saliva. you could feel his stomach twitch every time you pumped his hard cock until it bulged inside you.

he had grabbed your hair with one hand, accompanying your head in your movements, leaving your mouth shaping in an o. you thought everything was fine, but you had started to feel a little dizzy, and also to feel your body getting a little weaker. rafe was turned on. and with the strange feeling that currently warmed your body, you couldn't maintain the pace anymore so he took care of it, driving your little lips to his dick. you were sucking as he was feeding you all his length inside your mouth, shoving it enough to make you gag and hurts your throat. a smirk appeared on his face when you became extremely needy, literally lapping at the leaking tip of his dick like a pup with wide round open eyes. “ yea, try to catch daddy's dick..come on you can do it... don't you want to own it ? ” he was giving you fat and strong slaps with his dick on the side of your cheeks, as you were trying to run your tongue against it.

he took back the stream of saliva in your lolling tongue before fucking your mouth at an insane pace. he doesn't care that you couldn't breathe and that your eyes were teary, he just wanted you to be sucking at his dick.

you giggled when he pushed your body back onto the mattress, while you couldn't really stand on your feet. he was on top of you, standing with all his big frame that was making you ridiculously smaller than him. he had spit into his fist before stroking himself, making sure all his shaft was wet and nice. “see? I told you I could make you feel better. "

and he pushed his dick you with such a sharp thrust that you whined. since your hole was still a little tight, he had forced your walls slightly. you panted, choking on each of his other strokes. you were euphoric and your unsteady body fucked hard against the mattress. “Come on, baby. nothing fun anymore? i thought you wanted to laugh. ” he mocked your tears with another rough push, sending you waves of pleasure and shivers.

he was fucking your pussy like a beast, bruising your cervix with such a primal need. you were now such a mess, babbling and crying because of him, because of the way his dick was bullying your insides. it felt so good but you could feel some pain.

as he used your cunt, taking all the space of your entire hole, rafe was delighted. no, he wasn't going to cry or regret because you decided to be a crybaby. he was going to continue fucking you until you were completely senseless and his cock fully empty.

he always hated your brother. it was like that. it was ward's fault who told him he was the son he never had. rafe couldn't help but be jealous of this relationship that his enemy and his father had. he felt erased. and you, the perfect little princess who was never blamed for anything, who was always in her own corner, he couldn't hate you, even less blame you. but he could still use you.

you were the perfect victim. you were so clean and innocent. and your brother loved you so much that rafe felt obligated to hurt you.

you were like a doll, a stupid doll with no brain that he could control so easily. you were helpless, each thrusts slamming so hards. he was forcing your head to stay, holding it into his palm. “I know, baby. i know how you feel, but it's gonna get worse if you don't let it go. "

you weren’t really sure what he was talking about, you didn’t really understand what he was saying. you were in another dimension. you could see but it was slightly blurry. his tall figure was moving above you, words were being said but you were just there, a trembling smile over your lips, a tipsy look, and crying completely out of sync with the situation.

only rafe knew the truth. you didn't feel like that because of the alcohol but the drugs that had been added with the lub. the drug quickly took effect. your body had been in possession of the substance in a few minutes but above all under its submission.

“you're so pretty. should i send a photo to your brother? "

you didn't even wince at the brother. you just laughed like it was the funniest joke you had ever heard. “Let’s play a game. you wanna play games? "

you nodded. one of the rare gestures that you managed to do fully. rafe had smiled before caressing your face. “ can you feel the inches inside you? "

you nodded with a little giggle. “if you guess the exact number, daddy's will give you all the orgasms you want and need like the princess you're. if it's wrong, you let daddy use you for the rest of the night.”

it was evil. he knew you wouldn't have the answer because you couldn't think.

“Come on, baby. don't let daddy's win the game. ” he said so softly in your ears, but his voice sounded so fake.

you tried. one time. three times. until your chances were exhausted.

“'s too bad. doesn't matter, i bet you wouldn't guess earlier all the fingers i've got in you. "

you pouted, and he just fucked you harder, rushing the pace into you to an insane one. this time, your whimpers were muffled beneath his large palm.

“ it's okay, baby. you don't need a brain when you've got such a perfect tight pussy. “

he was big. you could feel it. there was a rough strength in his thrusts. your body was pleading against his heavy one. you hated to feel like such a crybaby around him but you couldn't help.

all those tears on your cheek were real, even the saliva coating your lips, and the sniffles wetting your nose. you couldn't fight against his control.

since there is no one around you, you were craving for some attention. and rafe was giving you the one who needed, only by a simple sentence. he started the conversation with you, he was looking at you while you speak and he's listening like he cares when you know he don't. he was touching you and standing close to you like you really exist.

you shouldn't be with him. your brother warned you a lot. rafe cameron was the type of guy who doesn't fit girls like you as he said. he also said that Rafe doesnt love and only damage. he was toxic for you.

but wasn't it also toxic to listen to your brother all your life ? you were not a little girl anymore.

Rafe had filled your pussy with his cum, invading the tight canal of your pussy to the point it was coating your slit. he slipped out his dick before milking it and spreading every leaking drop over your body until there was nothing left.

he made you clean all his fat length with your mouth, feeling the pleasure holding him when you start to lick all of his cock. your tongue was already wet, but now sticky with drool and cum. you pushed your needy muscle to lap at the reddish dick, watching the face of your brother's enemy with little eyes as you were cleaning the mess.

“I bet your brother now has a real reason to hate me. " he said with a playful tone.

“ Rafe...”

“you can stay here. it's not like you can go anywhere with the substance inside you… but don't worry, i will be back. ”

[yutarot]

ride or die. l.jn smau

018 — for her, i am.

(a/n: u might wanna grab some popcorn for this one.)

JENO POV

“i know who leaked my secret.”

he had said it so quickly that he forgot the words had even come from his mouth.

jaemin stares at him, eyes wide in a mix of shock and weirdly, sadness.

but then jeno realises why. he had let jaemin be bullied, staying silent as all of his friends attacked him. he had done nothing.

jaemin didn’t care that jeno knew who it was, he didn’t care who had ruined jeno’s life, because jeno had ruined his. he thought that jeno thought it was him, he had assumed that’s why jeno did nothing, out of hatred, out of anger. but now, now it made no sense. jeno was meant to be his bestfriend.

jeno became angry at the thought. not at jaemin, but at himself. and he hadn’t even explained to him the whole story yet, he hadn’t even told him who it was.

jaemin spoke first after their silence.

“you better start explaining.” jaemin says, and rightfully so. jeno feels as if he should had done the explaining a while ago, he wanted to. but it all happened too quick. he never got the chance.

he doesn’t know why, but he feels like jaemin and him aren’t going to be the same after this. not after what he’s about to tell him.

jaemin grows inpatient, angry even.

“come on, jeno, im not gonna sit here and wait for the fucking grass to grow!!”

jeno says nothing still, and this only makes jaemin’s anger worsen. but he just doesn’t know what to say, how to word the sentence that will ruin their friendship.

“WHO WAS IT JENO?” jaemins grabbing his shirt at this point, and there’s nothing he can do but close his eyes and take it. “WHO WAS IT YOU HAD TO PROTECT SO MUCH TO THE POINT WHERE YOU HAD TO LET ME GET PUSHED AROUND, HUH? WHO SPILLED YOUR FUCKING SECRET, WHO DID YOU FEEL WAS SO SPECIAL TO YOU THAT YOU COULDNT SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE?!! WHO WAS IT, JENO?! WHO W-“

jeno’s heart races. his fists clench. his arms tense.

he snaps.

“IT WAS ME!”

jaemin stills.

he lets go of jeno’s shirt.

his eyes never divert from his, his last breath never leaving. they both stand in the apartment lobby, the cold air of outside, breezing through the window, half cracked open, the distant buzz of the vending machine whirring in the corner and the deep hue of the midnight sky absorbing the light from around them.

they’re silent, they’re still.

neither of them dare to speak.

until jeno notices jaemins face.

it’s not anger, it’s not sadness. it’s pity.

“it was me.” jeno’s voice is lower now. “i leaked my own identity.” he looks at the floor, in both solemnity and shame.

“why?” jaemin asks. “why would you do that to yourself?”

“i didn’t know it would spread so fast. i posted it on an anonymous account before my race. i wasn’t expecting it to be spread so quick, let alone on national news. i thought it would be slow, i was going to tell you, i was going to tell everyone. i had decided i didn’t want to be samo anymore. but the speed of it all… i wasn’t ready yet, i hadn’t prepared yet, i hadn’t told her.”

jaemin stills at the mention of you.

“so that’s why.”

jeno nods.

“you’re an idiot.” jaemin says, throwing jeno’s words back at him.

but jeno isn’t laughing.

“for her, i am.”

that’s where he realises the gravity of it all. that both of their deception had all come down to the route of one thing, of one person.

you.

jeno continues. “do you know what she told me when we first got into that fake relationship?”

jaemin shakes his head.

“she told me that she didn’t understand why i liked living as samo more than jeno. and usually, i did. i loved living as samo, it was the only time that i was able to really be myself. but when she came along, i realised something. i realised that i didn’t want to be samo anymore, i wanted to be the person that she knew. technically, she knew samo, yes. but it was me, as jeno, that she truly knew. and when she told me that i should just live as jeno, avoid all the public attention and just go outside without a mask, i realised that she was right, that that’s who i wanted to be. i wanted to be me, because of her. so when she told chenle who i was, i should have been mad, i should have been pissed. but, truly? i was relieved. she had done the first step of my journey herself, i could break off the deal. i could explain that i didn’t care about it anymore. i could explain that i wanted to date her for real. but i didn’t do any of that. i was still angry, i was angry at the reason why she had told chenle. he ruined it all. i couldn’t explain it to her, what i really wanted. because she liked him. and it only confirmed my suspicions when i found that stupid fuckers hoodi-“

jeno realised he had be talking for too long when jaemin began to smile.

“oh man i’ve been waiting for you to say that for the longest time, that you want to be yourself.” he pulls him into a brief hug as he speaks, as if he hadn’t even heard the second half of jeno’s rant.

after a second, jaemin pulls away before stating the obvious truth of what’s staring them both in the face, “if only it wasn’t because of her.”

reality dawns on him, pushing on him like an incoming storm. “im sorry jaemin, but ive made up my mind.”

jaemin nods, expecting jeno to say more. but he doesn’t, he just walks to the elevator, clicking the floor to their dorm. jeno hopes that jaemin forgets all about you, that he puts his feelings for you aside. but he knows jaemin too well, he knows no matter how much he tries, jaemin will never forget you.

“you getting in?” jeno says, a smile plastered on his face.

jaemin grins back before running to the elevator to join him.

jeno was going back home.

well, he will be once he fixes things with you.

jaemin lets out a sigh, seeming deep in thought. “you sacrificed everything for her.”

jeno looks at him, an understanding of what he means by this.

“jaemin-“

“i’ll take the fall for it.” he says, a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t have to tell them it was you yet, if you’re not ready.”

jeno panics, “i can’t let you do that. not anymore.”

“please let me.” he fidgets, watching the numbers on the elevator screen climb up, and up, and up. “it’s the most i can do.”

jeno doesn’t know what to say, just like before. so he does the easiest thing. even though he knows he shouldn’t, he does what he knows he’s going to regret.

the elevator dings to a halt.

he lets him.

a sacrifice for a sacrifice.

previous : mlist : next

notes; it’s been so hard tryna keep this secret guys u have NO idea

taglist — open! @jenohyun @jirsungs @do-you-remember-summer-127 @ddolbyong @stqrgr7 @thatsatricky1 @sunghoonsgfreal @nattan127 @ssweetreveries @flamingi @chenlesfavorite @peterm4rker @snoopyjimin @akunoeyebrows @junviadinho @slayhaechan @f6llsun @multifandomania @cookiehaos @catecita @mrsjohnnysuh @luv4jeno @hyuckies18 @dreamiestay @tangerinelovelees @jjaegyeom @https-yeonjun @nanaxwi @yukisroom97 @nosungluv @mrkleelvr @neocrashed @jaedgemental @apolloxxivmin @kyubing @catdonut657 @dudekiss3r @juyeonshour @hamjwis @antifrggile @mmjhh1998 @thegracerammy @jenocity23 @honeynanamin @bluedbliss @lampcults @yyangj3lly

[faygosoda]

Angst w hyun-ju? Where reader gets attacked really badly during the special game and hyun-ju couldn't protect reader. Hyun-ju is like really worried because reader is like kinda on the verge of bleeding out and dying

A/N: Oh yeahh my first req!! I hope I did this justice n Im sorry if she comes off as ooc!!

Title: So Much Lost

“Fuck..” you mumbled, hand holding your side as you stumble into one of the beds, tears welling in your eyes.

Stupid games, stupid debt, stupid bob having druggie stabbing you with the fork..

You held back a groan as your knees became weak, left hand bracing yourself on the post of the bed.

You didn’t want to worry the others with this but considering the fact that you were on the verge of passing out and bleeding (which was such a lame way to go), you would have no choice but to tell someone..

Something just always had to go wrong in your life- family abandoning you, forcing their debt on you, a fuck ass love life, and more AND now you have a stab wound.

Great. At least I’m away from the others.. this would just cause more pani-

“(Name)?…. Holy shit-“

Fuckkkk, of course Dae-ho found you.. always the one to search and help those in need.

“Dae-ho listen don’t go and tell-”

“Like hell I won’t!” He runs off as you groan your left hand which wasn’t currently putting pressure on your side slapping your forehead.

Multiple rushed footsteps are heard from god knows where.

“(Name)!”

“Oh my goodness-”

“Everybody move out the way!”

Blah blah lots of talking lots of worry and concern from who knows who..

You didn’t really pay attention to who was saying what besides one voice that belong to the one person you had came to admire the most throughout the days of being here.

“Hyun- Hyun-Ju..”

It was a quiet mumble but able to be heard from her attentive ears.

“I am right here (Name), stay awake for me okay? Who did this to you?”

Her words were shakey along with her hands that came up to sit you up as.. Gi-Hun? Yeah, Gi-hun and some of the others rushed around to find stuff that could possibly help.

“That- uh.. that one guy with the bob who w- was with the purple h- haired dude..”

I groan out, glancing down at the red spot that progressively got bigger, soaking through the fabric of my tracksuits zip up and onto my hand.

“Son of a bitch..” Hyun-Ju mumbled, tears evident in her eyes.

“D- definitely..” I slur, head falling back as my eyes close before a hand comes to my chin, making my eyes re-open.

“No. Keep your eyes open and look at me. Do not go to sleep.” Her hand hold your chin, turning it her way and you can’t help but look at her adoringly, eyes half lidded and a strained smile on your face.

“I.. I can’t- it hurts so much- I’m- I’m sorry I should’ve listened to- to you..” A choked sob comes from you, tears slipping down your face.

“Stop it- (Name), stop don’t apologize please do not- I can’t lose you too!” Hyun-Ju’s words are rushed yet quiet.

‘I can’t lose you too!’ Oh right, Young-Mi.. shot dead after the third game. One of the many people Hyun-Ju has lost besides her family and well.. now you

Your hands move up to hold her cheek and her hand that held your chin as your vision blurred, colored shapes of those who you now considered your friends gathered around the bed you sat up on.

“Young-Mi’s right.. you’re beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t say so earlier.. you make me nervous. Hyun-Ju, you- you have to make it out for- for me.. please Hyun-Ju.. Don’t let me hold you back.” You spoke quietly, eyes lidded to the point your lashes blocked view of the womans face that had tears falling down her cheeks.

Hyun-Ju nods, face leaning into your touch as she cries, shoulders shaking.

“I promise you I- I will (Name). For- for you.”

You smile, breath slowing down and a meek sound comes from your throat.

The last thing you hear are her sobs which continue to go on for who knows how long.

The only thing that riddles your mind is ‘what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?’

The end!

A/N: Hi guys thanks for reading that oneshot! I hope it was okay n I hope u liked it😇 I #hateangst cuz wdym that bob ho killed us I js wanna chill w my wife😢💔 SORRY THAT ITS SHORT, I WAS LWK BLANKING BUT FOR THE NEXT FF ILL TRY MY BEST TO MAKE IT LONGER!!

Btw pls send in my requests cuz this saved me from boredom💋

[lilyshoujofan101posts]

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞! 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑:

Incredibly protective over you; it took him a lot to reveal his feelings and part of that was because he knew he would be bringing danger into your life if you were going to be together. So there had to be compromises in the relationship, for your safety. Not just because of other civilians but because of any enemies he's made in his line of work.   

Teaches you how to defend and attack. He goes so far as to pretend to be an intruder in your house as practice. (You nearly broke a vase over his head and that's when he had to show his face). You were very very angry with him...  

Always reminds you to bring a jacket when you go out but you don't. And when you're cold, he looks at you with a raised eyebrow and a 'told-you-so' look. Shakes his head, sighs, takes off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders while muttering, "every. single. time."  

Actually gives solid advice; he's very wise. Even with friend problems or workplace issues, he can come up with some great ways of handling it. 

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Says the most cringiest dad jokes. You wouldn't think he has a sense of humour, but he does - it's just very dry. 

Has a polaroid of you that he keeps on him at all times. He knows it isn't the smartest thing to have on him in case he's captured, but when he's away you're all he can think about. 

Loves sitting on opposite ends of the couch, so he can hold your feet in his lap and massage them

Is more of a homebody than anything. He loves staying home and watching movies, or doing puzzles and playing cards. If you didn't know how to play poker or black jack then he'd teach you 

One night you had a Disney Classics movie marathon and he cried while watching Bambi

𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Closed Off (Simon) x The Person They Warm Up To (You)

"Watch your tone." (Simon) x "Or what?" (You)

Serious (Simon) x Flirty/Playful (You)  

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 As the World Caves In by Sarah Cothran

Never played the game, though I suppose he is the most popular, or maybe I am wrong.

𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐳!

𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑶𝒇 𝑫𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆?

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size taker.

Results Include:

Headcanons

Relationship tropes

Your song

What they're like in the relationship

[lizzybeeee]

Personal take: One of the weirdest things Veilguard did, outright baffling, in fact, is how it feels like they reset the status quo of the world to Origins - even further back, if anything.

The game avoids (at all costs) meaningfully delving into exploring what these events/lore reveals mean to the world and characters at large. But the entire time I was thinking: holy shit this is bad.

What happens in game has very, very bad implications for the rest of Thedas and how they're going to look at groups like the Elves and Mages. I'm looking at this from the perspective of someone whose played all three previous games, not from the perspective of datv which really brushes over all moral complexity and sociopolitical issues. Of course, it's just my interpretation but its based off what happened in previous games.

Elves

The Elvish Gods of legend came back, blighted, and ended up wiping out the majority of the South - I find it hard to believe that the elves would not be 'roped in' as being responsible somehow.

Elves could sneeze in a previous game and people would blame them for causing a plague and purge the alienage -> life is shit for an elf and the events of datv would have absolutely made life a thousand times worse.

Would there be purges of alienages? Are there groups like the chavaliers or mobs of humans going about an killing elves because 'It's your Gods. It's your fault.'

Obviously, it isn't. But there are plenty of examples in Thedas' history of people acting rashly/cruelly out of terror and anger - and it's the most vulnerable people, like the Elves and Mages, who are targeted.

The Dalish Elves, what remains of them, would likely be perceived as 'Blight/Old God worshipers' - people would chase them off for the 'crime' of living too close to them in the woods in DAO.

Terrified, angry people would not care if the Dalish said they had nothing to do with what's happening - there would be bloodshed.

If anything improved for the elves from the time of Origins -> Mahariel, Tabris, Lavellan, or Briala...it's likely back to ground one as the best possible outcome, and closer to the Exalted March on the Dales at it's worst.

Mages

Mages could, potentially, have been living a life of unprecedented acceptance if Leliana was Divine -> along come the Evanuris, mages, who are allied with the Venatori who are causing devastation in Orlais and the Free Marches specifically.

Missive - Message from the Front -> The Tide Turns "The Venatori and the Orlesian royal armies clash daily in Orlais. Val Royeaux is now under control of the rebels, and from there the Venatori launch attacks as far east as Kirkwall."

The original magisters (evanuris) wielding the Blight and Old Gods 2.0 x2.

Any templars who remained, who had the old mindset and outlook of how mages should be treated, absolutely would be pointing at the venatori and saying "we warned you what would happen without the Order."

Normal people wouldn't give a shit that it's only a 'few' mages -> their entire home is gone, their families are dead, and the people responsible are wielding magic.

Fear of magic would likely be at an all time high - If the Order doesn't exist people would likely be demanding for them to come back.

The mages - whatever goodwill they earned - are likely being faced with suspicion and terror because this is proof of what magic can do in the hands of power-hungry douchebags.

Maybe they help to fight and people don't get so suspicious of them - who knows! This game doesn't want to address the previous games so it's in limbo.

Spirits

Other people have done great posts about how the spirits were completely tossed aside in this game. Three games worth of humanizing spirits, with Justice and Cole, only to go back on it with Solas reinforcing the Veil and...maintaining the status quo?

He so earnestly discussed with us his perspective on spirits and how they're just as 'real' as those on this side of the Veil - we saw it with Cole firsthand. But I guess they can all chill in the Fade till Solas dies or whatever.

I'd argue that the elves and mages are in an even worse position than they were in Origins. It's just not fulfilling, to me at least, to see the World I got so invested in just regress to the status quo after three games of challenging it. For it to not be meaningfully discussed or spoken about in-game, just brushed aside...I may not have liked the decision to do this but it could have been interesting (at least) if they actually discussed it.

Also, people don't just 'band together' because of the Blight - Origins showed us very well that in times of strife and pressure peoples petty/deeply ingrained beliefs, prejudices, and values come to the forefront. Alistair's comment about “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together" -> was him being snarky about how everybody as Ostagar was on the verge of throwing hands with each other. They were united in cause not in belief - the cause being to eradicate the darkspawn.

It's just so grim, and with how they handled sociopolitical issues and moral complexity in datv (not at all) I have no hope that they'll be able to address this at all, if they even bother to and don't just...ignore it, I guess.

Maybe this is what the devs meant when they said that the 'tone' was similar to Origins - just straight up erasing whatever strides was made in the previous games and setting it back to square one lmao

[spidermanifested]

another black sails fantheory ive seen around a lot is that silver is jewish, usually specifically sephardic, but despite its prevalence i havent been able to find anybodys actual thesis statements about it. so if there are Essays out there (especially by somebody with more historical-slash-judaism knowledge than i with my meager wiki-crawls) i would love Links

however once again ive pondered a bunch of the stuff ive noticed personally, about mr john "if thats even your real name" silver. and honestly at this point id be kind of surprised if it Wasnt the actual context the writers shaped his character around. everything just seems to come together really neatly

hes impressively literate for his circumstances/time period, and really good at quickly memorizing large amounts of text. a solid religious education could very well explain this

specifically– and this is one of the things that feels like a huge bit of intentional subtext to me– the scene where hes hiding with the lepers and memorizing the urca schedule REALLY seems to evoke someone reading scripture under a prayer shawl

not only does he not know how to cook pork, but does not even seem to know what pork looks like when finished cooking

the pretext flint used to get his crew to hunt down the hamiltons' ship was that it was carrying sephardic riches. this is a completely throwaway detail we learn secondhand, in a story where there are very, very few completely throwaway details

silver speaks at least some spanish. this comes up Once and goes totally unquestioned by everyone around him, likely because they think he just picked it up as a sailor. he almost certainly has not been at sea long enough for this to be the case. speaking ladino as a first language on the other hand would give him a huge leg up (so to speak.) in that department

further point. around the time period of the show, the biggest sephardic community in the world lived in thessaloniki in modern-day greece. it was:

a) one of the most major seaports in the ottoman empire

b) a famous center for learning, which boasted 100% literacy of its jewish population

and c) despite its long and prosperous history under ottoman rule, beginning to decline along with the rest of the empire, for many interconnected reasons, including but not limited to: Problems With the Governments Handling of the Textile Industry (where have we heard that before)

lotta unrest. religious schisms and doomsday prophecies. reactionary groups of overempowered soldiers attacking civilians for stress relief (again. where have we heard that before). people, unsurprisingly, started leaving

so if you did want, against john silvers express wishes. to theorize a backstory for a surprisingly educated stowaway of Mystery Origin, who has Mystery Trauma and doesnt want anybody to know who he is or where he comes from, and which would give a new level of relevance to all the greek stuff that permeates the show (down to the actual name of the thing!), along with containing parallels to several other backstories and events in the show proper,

Well this one make sense i think 👍

[scary-grace]

omg Hana lives au where you’re in her group for a project and keep suggesting studying at her house. You say it’s because she has a library but actually you just think her brother’s cute.

You sent this ask and my brain started clicking, so here is a Hana (and Mon) lives ficlet, ft. a reader who’s lying about her quirk.

“Again?” Hana asks. She heaves a dramatic sigh and flops down over her desk. “We always study at my house.”

“Your house is nicer,” Yue says.

“You have a library and a bunch of pretty windows,” Manami says. “And your backyard is so nice! If the weather’s good we can study outside.”

All of what your friends are saying is true. Hana has the nicest house by far, and the most books you can borrow, but you’re not going to join in the guilt-trip. Hana picks her head up and glances your way. “You’re not going to say anything?”

You can’t. It’ll look suspicious. “I’m fine with wherever,” you say.

“No you’re not,” Yue says, and elbows you. Her elbows are really pointy. “You want to go over to Hana’s too. Say it.”

“Okay, okay,” you say. Maybe not going along with it looks more suspicious than going along with it would. “We have to go over to yours, Hana. Mon loves me, and I promised to go back see him soon.”

“Mon does really like you,” Hana admits. “Better than me. The only person he likes more is Tenko.”

“Is he going to be around?” you ask as casually as possible. “Tenko?”

“Yeah. Why?”

That settles it. You’re going to Hana’s to study if you have to climb over the back fence and study in the grass. “Just figuring out how many snacks to bring. If you’re hosting, I’m bringing food.”

Manami and Yue renew their attack on Hana. “She has a cooking quirk. People pay for her stuff and we get it for free. Come on, Hana —“

Hana heaves an even more dramatic sigh than before, but you can see her smiling slightly. “Fine. My house tomorrow at noon.”

Manami and Yue are grinning, pleased, but you feel a knot of anticipation pulling tight in your chest. You like going to Hana’s, sure, and you love seeing Mon. But you’d rather fail every class between now and graduation than admit to Hana that the reason you always want to study at her place is that you have a crush on her little brother.

You’re not that much older than Tenko is — just a year or so, since you’re a grade ahead in the classes you share with Hana and Yue — and if you told anybody about your crush, the age difference would be the last thing they’d comment on. Tenko can be a little intense, a little earnest, a lot awkward. When you first became friends with Hana, nobody was making him pay for it yet, but then he got to middle school, and you know he got picked on. Hana stood up for him as best she could, and so did you, if someone was mean when you were in earshot. You stood up for him before you had a crush on him. That’s not why you did it.

You’re not sure when you went from the kind of distant fondness you have for your friends’ siblings to this, but it happened, and now you’ll take any chance you get to hang out at Hana’s house. Even if it means you’ll be up all night baking, trying to make the quirk you lied about look real.

You’re at Hana’s house two minutes after noon, with your backpack and two covered trays, one with cupcakes and one with taiyaki. Hana beams. “Sorry I was weird yesterday,” she says as she ushers you inside. “I was worried my dad might try to visit.”

“Oh.” You know Hana’s parents are divorced — messily divorced, and Hana has really mixed feelings about her dad, who lives in a luxury apartment on the other side of town. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s good. I told him he couldn’t visit because I had friends coming over to study, so it all worked out.”

Hana lifts the trays out of your hands while you take off your shoes and goes to set them on the table. As you straighten up, you hear the sound of paws pattering across the floor. “Mon?”

Mon pounces on you, much more spry than his white-flecked muzzle would suggest, and you crouch down to greet him. You don’t have a dog of your own, but you’ve always been a dog person, and Mon’s your favorite by a mile. You tell him so. “Who’s the most handsome man? I missed you so much —“ He bounces up on his hind legs to lick your nose, and you laugh. “I promised I’d come back. You don’t have to give me that many kisses.”

“He wants you to pet him.”

That’s Tenko’s voice, and just like that, you’re nervous. You look up to find him watching you from around the corner, dark-haired and grey-eyed, halfway in the shadows. “You never pet him,” he continues. He got cuter since the last time you saw him. How is that possible? “Why not?”

“Do I have to pet him to love him?” you ask awkwardly. “He likes me anyway.”

“Yeah. A lot. But it’s weird that you don’t pet him.” Tenko scratches lightly at the side of his neck with a gloved hand. “If you’re allergic, you shouldn’t let him lick your face.”

“I’m not allergic.” You nudge Mon away, and thankfully, he defaults to sniffing your backpack, giving you an excuse to look at him instead of Tenko. “I promised I’d bring treats for you next time. Give me a second.”

“He can’t eat treats from the store. They’re bad for him.”

“I made these at home,” you say. “There are two kinds — salmon and quinoa, and carrot and cheese.“

Tenko’s quiet. You glance up at him and see a surprised look on his face. “You made him two kinds of treats?”

“I wasn’t sure what he liked best,” you admit. You take the package out of your backpack, and Mon starts slobbering all over your hands as he tries to get you to open it. “Can I give him one?”

Tenko nods, and you open the plastic bag, selecting a carrot and cheese biscuit. “Sorry I was mean,” he says quietly. “I heard Hana tell you. About our dad —“

“It’s okay,” you say. He’s so earnest about stuff. You can’t remember the last time you heard a boy apologize and really mean it. “Um, should I ask Mon to do a trick or something?”

“If you hold it up and say ‘up’ he’ll stand on his hind legs,” Tenko says, and you laugh. “Don’t make him do it for too long. He’s getting old.”

Tenko’s voice catches a little bit on the last words, and breaks your heart a little bit more. “Can he roll over?”

“Yeah. Mon, roll,” Tenko orders, and Mon flops down and log-rolls twice. “Good boy. Now he can have a treat.”

You feed Mon the carrot and cheese biscuit, which he snaps up in two bites. He must like it, because he immediately comes hunting for more. Tenko fishes around in the bag and comes up with one of the salmon biscuits, which he gives to Mon without asking for a trick first. He pets Mon with gloved hands and Mon immediately pops up, licking his cheek and snuffling his ears. Tenko laughs, a quiet, rusty sound that makes your cheeks heat up. “Don’t be dumb. There aren’t any treats in there. She has the treats.”

Watching the two of them interact, you’re amazed that more of Hana’s friends don’t have crushes on Tenko. There’s something sweet about him, something that renders any weirdness or awkwardness or itchiness irrelevant. You know he’s smart, and you think he’s cute, and the fact that he’s a year younger than you and your friend’s brother shouldn’t matter at all.

But it does matter, because when Hana calls your name, you jump out of your skin like you’ve been caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Where did you go?” she complains, then rounds the corner. “You don’t have to win Mon’s heart with treats. He already likes you second-best out of everybody.”

“He does,” Tenko agrees. He glances sideways at you, somehow managing to look up at you through his eyelashes even though you’re both the same height crouching down. “I can tell.”

You try not to blush and mostly fail, because it’s not Mon’s heart you’re trying to win. And even though you know you shouldn’t, even though you know it’s a bad idea, you reach out to pet Mon’s ears, stealing a little bit of life from yourself and passing it along to him.

[puzzleglum]

Since we still have about nine hours to wait for the update, I wanted to share a few predictions. Some thoughts about why Lanyon might be reminding Hyde of this story from their university years. I think maybe there are two points to it. One: Lanyon wants to convince Hyde to trust him. And two: he wants to make a point related to transformation. Specifically, that of Jekyll to Hyde, and vice versa. I’ll elaborate on both points. First, why would Lanyon need to convince Hyde to trust him? Because Hyde is obviously afraid.

Lanyon got closer, and properly entered the room instead of just standing in the doorway. Hyde, meanwhile, responds with clear panic. His heart is pounding. Note his stutter when he tells Lanyon to stay back. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Hyde stutter like that before, not once. Hyde has no idea what Lanyon’s intentions are with him, you see. But he thinks they can’t be anything good. Remember, Hyde was aware and paying attention for the immediate aftermath of the identity reveal. He saw the ways Lanyon reacted with shock and horror. Hyde expected that. The shock and horror was the point. Hyde revealed their secret to ruin Jekyll’s reputation, to destroy the “pure” and “good” image he had. Hyde heard everything Lanyon said about him, and about Jekyll, and wasn’t surprised by the anger, or disgust, or anything. He knew what was coming when he revealed that Jekyll and Hyde were the same, all along. Hyde knew he was ruining his own life to spite Jekyll. He didn’t care.

A public vivisection of Jekyll, yes. But also of Hyde.

In a sense, Hyde revealed the truth to show everyone: surprise! It was I, the evil Mr. Hyde, who was the monster in Jekyll’s story all along! And the thing about that is…it’s really not safe to stick around after you reveal yourself to be the “monster” of the story. People might attack you now that they can see you for what you really are, you know? But Hyde is trapped. Don’t forget about the police and angry mob right outside the door. Monsters are to be feared and hated. Hyde knows that’s how it usually goes. The pitchforks must be coming for him. Right? (Hyde here would be ignoring the fact the Society isn’t filled with people who follow convention. Rather the opposite. And it’s not like any of them turned away someone like Frankenstein’s Creature. On the contrary, the Society welcomed him! But internalized self-hatred has a funny way of making you believe there must be something uniquely bad about you. Even when the evidence suggests differently. So it is with Hyde’s self perception.) Now, Hyde, too, must suffer the consequences of the secret being out. And he must suffer them alone, since Jekyll decided to abandon himself and his own life. What the hell is Hyde supposed to do now? Be scared, of course. And so we come back to the present page. Hyde, afraid of Lanyon, because Lanyon is a Gentleman, and Hyde is a Monster, and there is no way Lanyon means well towards a Monster. Right? And so Hyde tries to remind him that Hyde is, supposedly, a monster: “you have no idea what I’m capable of!” Hyde’s telling him that he will bite, so back off. Only, it’s not intimidating in the slightest. His front of toughness is paper thin. And Lanyon sees this. He sees the fear in Hyde’s face. He hears the stutter in his voice. It’s painfully obvious how scared Hyde must be. How does Lanyon respond, after Hyde tries to intimidate him into staying away? He pauses. Note the ellipsis. Lanyon took a moment to consider his angle.

And he found his angle. Recognition. The gentle acknowledgment of familiarity. Lanyon realized, with Frankie’s help, that Hyde is a part of Jekyll. More than that, he’s always been a part of him. Making the related connection that Jekyll and Hyde share their memories would be easy, thus addressing Hyde as “you” when telling this story. After all, their memories being shared would perfectly explain why Hyde, a person Lanyon had seemingly never met before, acted like a scorned ex the first time they spoke.

The sudden, righteous anger was a shock to Lanyon. Why, oh why, did Hyde keep acting like he knew Lanyon? Why did he have a personal grudge against him? I’m sure Lanyon must have wracked his brain to try and figure it out. Try to remember if he had known Hyde, back in university. But no, he would’ve remembered him. It just didn’t add up…until now. Because you know who else acted like a scorned ex, only one night before the present day of the comic?

That’s right. Our dear Henry Jekyll. These two panels, their dialogue, have the exact same source: a feeling of being unloved, and uncared for. The resentment of heartbreak. The difference between now and then is that Lanyon finally has the context to know why Hyde held those feelings, back then. Because Hyde sees Jekyll’s memories as fully his own. Jekyll’s history is Hyde’s history. They are, and always have been, fundamentally the same person. What’s changed now, I believe, is that Lanyon has finally realized this. He’s realized Jekyll and Hyde share memories, and the implications thereof. And that’s why he’s correctly addressing Hyde as “you” when telling a story about their university days. To circle back, I think Lanyon has a point in telling this particular story to Hyde. His angle is to build a bridge. To build trust. To let Hyde know what Lanyon has realized. He’s showing Hyde that he finally recognizes him. That he understands Hyde is not a monster, or a stranger, or a demonic curse on Jekyll’s soul. None of that. He’s a part of the man he loves. And that means Lanyon is not going to hurt him. On the contrary. He’s here to help. But why this particular story? Because of this:

Jekyll is correct, Metamorphoses is indeed the source of Lanyon’s Latin quote. It’s a narrative poem, with a unifying theme of transformations. I think it’s telling that Jekyll immediately recognizes it. Him and Lanyon are both familiar with the poem. And so, naturally, they’ll talk about that a bit on the next page. Maybe Lanyon will have more quotes to share. Maybe Jekyll will have his own quotes that mean something to him. And if he does, I imagine they’d be relevant now. Transformation is an experience that Henry Jekyll has become intimately familiar with, ever since the first night that Jekyll became Hyde. And that, I believe, is why Lanyon is telling this story. Transformation is the connection. Metamorphosis. I don’t know the exact point Lanyon wants to make, but if I had to guess, it would be something like this: ‘I see that you have changed. You have transformed. But I still recognize you.’ Meaning, he both acknowledges that Hyde’s form, and outward personality, are obviously different from Jekyll. And yet, he is the same person. He is still Henry. Just a different facet of him. A side of the man that’s usually hidden from the world. But just because people don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. Hyde, the parts that make him, have always been there, even before Jekyll separated Hyde from himself with the formula. Those parts just didn’t have their own discrete personality and consciousness to go with them, before. Before I end it here, I also want to share an alternative: that the Latin quote Lanyon has already shared here is the most relevant part, and all that other stuff I just said, about transformation, is not the point of him telling this story. If that might be the case, let’s take a look at a translation I found of the quote: "But a strange power draws me to him against my will. Love urges one thing: reason another." (“Cupido” here is translated to “love” but it can also be translated to “desire,” which might be more common in the few translations I’ve found.) It’s about internal conflict, that of either following your desires OR logic and common sense. Hm! Highly relevant to the conflict between Jekyll and Hyde. Hyde is all about discarding reason and following his desires. Jekyll, meanwhile, has other concerns. His reputation, mainly. Sometimes, we must sacrifice our desires to maintain our place in society, which is important to our survival. But what happens if we choose to sacrifice our deepest desires, constantly, for years? Never giving ourselves a break? Well…you get Henry Jekyll, a man so repressed that he’d rather separate himself from his desires completely than change the way he lives his life. So maybe that’s the point of Lanyon telling this story. He might recognize that Hyde is the embodiment of those repressed desires, and that’s what he’s leading up to. I could see it going either way, with him making a point about transformation or desire. Or hell, maybe both! It’s not like Lanyon can’t be making multiple points with this story. And that’s where I must end this. Also, I was a bit sleep deprived when I wrote this. So if any of what I said doesn’t make sense, or doesn’t quite connect, you are free to both point that out to me (I welcome all feedback!) and to blame it on that sleeplessness. Either way, thank you to those who read all my rambles to the finish! You are all wonderful folks, as far as I’m concerned. Seriously, thank you for reading. <333333333333

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day One — Cricket Bat/The Brawn

There were a lot of unexpected downsides to being a ghost. Sure, he got a best mate and a “life” he loved out of dying, but it wasn’t all sunshine rainbows and ice cream. And not just the major things like being chased or attacked on cases, neither! Small things were just as bad, especially when they snuck up on you

Take the mirror thing, for example. It’s really not an issue, right? Charles wasn’t vain or anything, he didn’t need to see himself in the mirror constantly. But you don’t realise how much you look in the mirror until it’s gone, really. All of a sudden your only perceptions of yourself is what you can see looking down and what you can remember. Charles had done his best to not think about it at all, but was rather suddenly confronted with his image issues about a year into being dead.

Well, “suddenly” isn’t quite right. Truth is, they’d just found a place to call theirs and were set on fixing it up. They hadn’t settled on a name for their detective agency yet, but they were getting there. At the moment all they were doing was cleaning the space as best they could to try and make it feel more homey.

You see, the place was, looking back, their reward for their first case. They’d taken to wandering London, just seeing the sights really, when recently they noticed the building. In slight disrepair, sure, but the weirder part was the poltergeist wreaking havoc on anyone who came near it. The living (un?)consciously avoided the place, but the boys hadn’t heard the gossip and were the next victims to its destruction. They couldn’t be killed, of course, but they could still be thrown about (and injured, apparently! Blasted iron—).

Edwin had already picked up a magical tome on their travels (which he’d then casually carried in his overcoat—Charles, who was still struggling to reimagine his clothing, was only a little jealous, he swore) and was thankfully able to use it to banish the poltergeist. They both took a hit or two, but Charles had realised early on that he needed to take the attention off Edwin in order for him to actually use magic. Charles had quickly rallied against the poltergeist, distracting it and taking the rest of the blows that came with that. Well, he’d tried to tackle the poltergeist first, get on the offense and all that, but that hadn’t gone well. So then he just took the hits until Edwin did his job.

Edwin, for whatever reason, had been right pissed about it in the days since. He kept his sentences short, kept his nose in that bloody book, and was overall being a cranky bastard. Charles was still sore from the fight (how ridiculous that ghosts could even be sore) and was frankly fed up with it. Time to tackle it head-on.

Though he could’ve taken the empty chair on the other side of the desk, Charles decided that being up close and personal was better for this talk. He marched up to the desk and sat on the ledge of it, arms crossed and looking down at Edwin, feet nudging the base of his chair.

Edwin didn’t even look up from the book, “Yes, Charles?”

Charles carefully took the book (bookmarked it, naturally, he wasn’t a monster) and set it aside as he spoke, “We need to have a chat, mate. Now, if you’ve got the time.”

Edwin let the book be taken, though his (stupidly broad, how does a sixteen year old even get built like that?? too fit for his own good and he doesn’t even know it, the wanker) shoulders remained tense. He quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at Charles, “Since you’ve taken my reading, I suddenly have the time. What is it you wish to speak about?”

Charles used his hand to motion at Edwin’s face, “All this. I get that you’re angry with me, though I have no clue why, but I need you to come out and say it, yeah? I’m not a mind reader.”

Sighing, Edwin properly faced Charles, “Fine. If that would please you. I am unhappy with how you handled our encounter with the poltergeist, and I was hoping you would apologise for it. I see that will not be happening.”

“Apologise?” Charles questioned, bewildered, “What the bloody hell did I do? I distracted the thing while you used your fancy magic to get rid of it!”

Edwin remained unimpressed, “I can handle myself, Charles. Your display of… masochism, shall we say— was unwarranted and reckless. We had no way of knowing what the poltergeist could do.”

“And? What, I was just supposed to let the thing do equal damage to both of us? Or let you take all the hits? You’re the one with the bloody book, mate, least I could do was give you time to read it.” Charles huffed.

“And yet your soul is less tempered than mine, so it is extremely likely that you will succumb to injuries at a faster rate.” Edwin snapped back, hands steepled in front of him as if this were all just obvious facts.

Bewildered, Charles tried to clarify, “What are you saying? I can’t take the same damage as you? Seriously?”

Edwin’s eyes, usually steadfast in maintaining eye contact, flickered down Charles’s form, then back up to his face.

Charles knew what that meant. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten looks like that, in conversations like these. Every time he tried out for a sport, every time he tried to stand up to his dad, every time he tried to keep up with his mates. Charles knew he was twiggy, alright? He didn’t put on muscle like the other lads did even doing the same sports and eating the same school-provided meals. Hell, even when he tried going above and beyond in eating meat and lifting weights all he did was get lean, not properly muscley. A fact which everybody noticed.

As a result, he’d get these looks. Right rude looks. As if it was funny to think of him being strong or holding his own in scraps. There were a few times his mates would egg him on to fight some other bloke twice his size to try and embarrass him. Maybe it wasn’t so harmless, looking back, but Charles usually scraped by by changing it into a race or just talking his way out of it. He knew they wanted to see him take a beating, even if they framed it as him “proving” that he was stronger than he looked. They’d give him that same look every single bloody time, as if he had to be bluffing and they were thrilled to call him out on it.

This was made all the worse by his dad of course—his dad who outright laughed in his face any time he tried to stand up or fight back. His dad who left just enough visible bruises and scars to make it seem like Charles was out fighting every break and losing every single one of ‘em. The teachers took it as another sign of Charles being no-good and brushed off any time he wanted to get treatment or lenience for the injuries. The other boys would laugh at the bruises and such, asking what Charles did to piss off his foe. Asking why he kept fighting if he was so obviously always going to lose. Just look at him—how would a scraggy thing like him ever win a fight?

So yeah, maybe Charles was a bit defensive about how he looked and how strong he was. It was all the worse by the mirror thing—was he skinnier dead? How would he ever know for sure? To top it all off, he’s dead. Not exactly like there’s a gym for ghosts, is there? Well, not that they knew of yet at least. And with his luck, a ghost gym wouldn’t do anything either.

Point is, Charles was practically stuck in this stupid thin appearance for the rest of his ghostly days. And he hated it. He hated it every time he went to check a mirror and saw nothing, forcing himself to rely on his memory. He hated it every time he struggled to manifest better clothes—Edwin kept telling him to just visualise, right, but how was he supposed to do that when he’d avoided visualising himself at all for years? What if he made it worse by visualising? Maybe he was a bit bigger since dying! Some unconscious thing helping him out or some shite. He didn’t want to risk making himself any skinnier!

It was ridiculous, all of it. But Charles was not about to take that same bullshit from someone he thought was better than all that.

“What, I’m too skin and bones for ya? Too weak? C’mon, tell me. I can take it.” He really couldn’t, truth be told, but he was ready to bluff his way through the hurt like always.

Edwin’s face scrunched up, “What the devils are you talking about? We’re ghosts, Charles, our appearances are entirely subjective. Not to mention they have little very bearing on this situation.”

Now it was again Charles’s turn to be confused, though he was still hunched up on the defensive, “Then what? What is it?”

“I do not want to see you hurt, alright?” Edwin snapped, “We do not know how to fix any injuries you might have sustained and you were completely defenceless! I was trying to focus on locating and performing the proper spell and there you were, ready to be obliterated in front of my very eyes!”

Charles gave a slightly relieved sigh. Edwin looked displeased at this, but Charles started speaking before Edwin had a chance to continue, “You’re mad at me because I scared you, is that it? Mate, I’m perfectly fine! We got that fucker out of here and I’m perfectly a-ok! Here I was thinking I’d properly mucked something up—“

“I am serious, Charles—“

“So am I!” Charles planted his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, forcing complete eye contact, “Look, as soon as we can, we’ll get our hands on some weapons for me to use alongside your fancy magic books. Hell, maybe you can make me one for all we know on magic!”

Edwin again went to reply, but Charles wasn’t finished.

“I’m flattered you care, and thank you for looking out for me, but I promise I’m stronger than I look. Get me a bat or something and, with you and your magic, I’m happy to take on any future baddies we come across, yeah?”

Edwin sighed again, but it was clear his icy demeanour was melting, “I suppose we can have that be our next move, now that we have a headquarters for ourselves.”

Charles all but cheered, ecstatic to have actually resolved their little spat, “That’s the spirit! I’ll be the brawns, you be the brains, and our Ghostbusters agency will be brills!”

“For the hundredth time, Charles, we are not naming our detective agency after some film!…”

—

Day one of @charles-rowland-week in the books! I make no promises to have something for every day/prompt bc my life is a mess (as per usual) but I wanted to at least do one :) hope y’all enjoyed it !!

[antianakin]

So I intentionally ignored Anakin in this particular AU because I've ended up derailing other AUs a little by attempting to work around The Anakin Problem, and I wanted to focus on Padme and her healing through this other relationship this time, so I left Anakin out of it for the most part.

That being said, while I definitely think Anakin would probably be SELF destructive and possibly destructive towards other relationships and maybe his career, I don't think he'd ever get to the extreme of "the Jedi Temple is in smoldering ruins" without Palpatine genuinely asking him to attack it. And even if Anakin DID attempt to just... attack the Jedi for some reason, he wouldn't have the clone army to back him up, and he'd end up doing IMMENSELY less damage and he'd be unlikely to even be able to leave the Temple. I'm sure he COULD kill some of them, especially if he caught them by surprise or went after primarily younglings or padawans, but at some point he'd end up overwhelmed and surrounded by adult Jedi and caught. There is absolutely no way Anakin would be able to single-handedly reduce the Temple to smoldering ruins and walk away from that. There just isn't.

And the inevitable outcome of that would likely not be the Jedi saying "okay well you're officially no longer a Jedi, get out of here" and just sending him out into the world. For one, that's just supremely un-Jedi-like, and for two, it's pretty stupid and dangerous. If Anakin manages to only kill Jedi, they would probably keep it internal, put Anakin on some kind of house arrest thing where he's forced to speak to a mind healer or something to try to figure out what the fuck just went wrong and how to help him in order to keep it from happening again before he'd be allowed to leave the Temple. Of course, if Anakin decides to just leave the Order, they wouldn't be able to stop him from leaving of his own volition, but at that point they might be able to make it the Republic's issue because now Anakin would kind-of count as a civilian who murdered Jedi. If Anakin kills people who AREN'T Jedi but work at the Temple, then it goes to the Republic automatically (we see this with Ahsoka during the Wrong Jedi arc). And I don't see that going super well for Anakin.

I also don't really know why Anakin falling immediately to the dark side because of Padme leaving him would cause him to attack the Jedi Temple. This doesn't really help him in any way. But even if we go with the assumption that if he immediately fell to the dark side as a result of Padme leaving him, that he'd attack the Jedi Temple, I don't think he'd actually completely SUCCEED and he'd face some pretty serious consequences that would likely keep him from being able to just march off to somehow single-handedly take out an entire PLANET (a planet that does now have a standing army among the Gungans, don't forget). Anakin could easily let his anger consume him and take it out on the people around him, or go to Naboo and maybe take it out on Padme or her family, for sure, but let's look at an alternative option that doesn't actually end with anybody dead.

Anakin IS angry when Padme leaves him, but since this is a happy fix-it AU, Palpatine isn't an option for him to go to anymore. So it just gets bottled up for a while until Obi-Wan decides enough is enough and actually reveals what he knows more explicitly than we know he does in canon, to push Anakin to just fucking TALK. And talk he does. He yells, actually, about the secret marriage, about how Padme betrayed him, about everything. Maybe about how he thinks it's Obi-Wan's fault or the Jedi's fault that he couldn't be with her openly. And it's a lot, so Obi-Wan realizes Anakin needs more help than he can personally provide, but also that there is no way Anakin is going to take kindly to the suggestion to see a mind healer, so he comes up with a way to sort-of... maybe trick Anakin into it. Maybe he manages to convince Anakin into a mission somewhere, to just get them AWAY from Coruscant and the memories of Padme, but also nowhere near Tatooine or Naboo. Somehow whatever happens on the mission leads to Anakin calming down just enough to agree to go see the mind healers so that he can be the kind of person Padme would agree to take back. And so he does. But after a while, he realizes that... maybe he doesn't need Padme. Maybe his relationship with Padme isn't something he should go back to. Maybe there's a LOT of things in his life he needs to re-examine and re-evaluate.

And so Anakin doesn't chase down Padme, he doesn't murder anybody, because he finally managed to accept that he needed help and GOT IT and the lack of Palpatine's terrible influence starts to clear his mind more and give room for the Jedi to make a bigger impact.

And maybe they do meet up again years and years later, by pure coincidence. And Padme's not certain how he'll react. It's been so long since she's seen him and she hasn't kept any tabs on him or kept in contact with the other Jedi in order to receive updates on him, so the last thing she knew, he'd been furious with her. She's incredibly pleasantly surprised when he calmly offers an apology for his behavior the last time they'd met and says he'll understand if she won't forgive him and never wants to talk to him again. Padme's not in love with him anymore, and she can tell there's no real danger of feeling that way a second time, but she'd loved him once and wanted to help him once, so she accepts his apology and the two of them are able to talk about what happened. Padme realizes she owes him an apology in return, because the way she'd handled his mother's death and what he'd done was so clearly the wrong choice in hindsight, and she never should've given in and married him when she'd known neither of them could truly commit to it. It had been selfish of her, both times, even if she'd told herself it wasn't. Anakin tells her he'd never seen it that way or blamed her for his own choices, but that she has his forgiveness for any of her mistakes.

They part ways and never see each other again (I don't think their history would allow them to maintain a relationship with each other in a way that was super healthy or comfortable), but it allows their past together to heal so it can be more than just a painful memory. They can truly, fully move on from it now.

Happy fix-it AU where Padme leaves Anakin anyway because she realizes how bad he is for her, and she ends up retiring because she REALLY doesn't want to be a Senator anymore (it was also maybe encouraged by her Queen after her secret marriage to a Jedi was discovered) and she goes back to Naboo to be with her family. She's left behind her responsibilities but she doesn't know what to do now, she's just... adrift, sort-of in limbo and mourning her relationship with Anakin. She has to keep convincing herself not to go back to him because she KNOWS she doesn't want that anymore, she KNOWS she doesn't want to be the person she was with him again, but the thrill of the secret marriage to someone who was so passionate about being with her is also sort-of like a drug.

Her parents both offer to let her come help them in their respective jobs, but she doesn't really have the energy for that right now. She DOES like helping Sola with her nieces because their energy and innocence seems to be a balm for her heart. One day, Sola asks if Padme can take the kids to a local festival in Theed one day while she and her husband go do something else, and Padme agrees. The girls are old enough and Theed is safe enough that they can wander off on their own away from Padme as long as they know not to go TOO far and come back to her after a little while. As she peruses the different artwork on her own, one artist's work stands to her more than anyone else's, it just hits at the core of her and she's not even sure why. She stands in front of a painting of a bird in flight for what seems like hours, though it can't be more than a minute or two, before the artist himself comes over to speak to her.

He addresses her as Senator Amidala, and she quickly tells him that she's not a Senator anymore and she doesn't really want to go by the name Amidala either, she prefers just Padme these days. He agrees, and something about him, maybe his eyes, seems familiar but she can't quite put her finger on it. They talk about his art for a while and everything he says about his inspiration feels like it's speaking directly to her. Eventually, Pooja and Ryoo come up to her and start pulling at her hands, demanding that she come see something with them. Before she leaves, she finally realizes she didn't even know his name and asks him.

It's Palo. The first boy she'd ever loved. The last time she'd seen him she'd been twelve in the Legislative Youth Program. She knew he'd left politics to become an artist instead, but she'd never actually seen any of his art before or ever tried to get back in contact with him. Now she wishes she had. Pooja and Ryoo are still pulling her away so she doesn't have time to really get over her shock at this revelation before she has to leave him behind and someone else comes up to ask him a question in her place.

He shows up at her parents' door the next day with the painting of the bird she'd so adored, and offers it to her as a gift. He refuses to accept any payment for it no matter how much she insists, but asks if she'd be willing to take a walk with him instead. She agrees. They end up spending the whole day together, just talking. For the first time, Padme doesn't feel like she's drowning in her own feelings or floating with no direction. She feels a lot like she's finally come home.

[jinxsmascara]

"Why do you like Silco from arcane SOOOOO much ?"

Well... number one: father figure of a character i KIN

Number two: his back story is the perfect exemple of ascending into...pure rage and unforgiveness like:

WARNING ARCANE S2 SPOILER !:

He was just a guy who worked with his brother in the mines and both were friends with Vi and Powder/Jinx mother (Felicia) ... yes he was a revolutionary , yes he was like "im too punk and edgy and cool for caring about the future ! Lets make Zaun !" Which was understandable i mean you live in a poor shitty undercity and you are looked down by the Pilities who never have to worry while you are in the slums worried if you will even have a tomorrow (lack of food n water / contaminated food n water , live in the streets for the most unlucky ones etc etc) and the Topside wont hear you , if course you go "FUCK IT LETS RIOT !" ... as we all know Silco fought on the bridge with Vander and Felicia (well maybe she didnt wanna fight because she had Vi and Powder/Jinx so maybe she was with them because she had to run from enforcers ?) ... and Felicia died (we dont know if Silco accidentally killed her wanting to punch an enforcer but in his "high" of "OH MY GOD IM PUNCHING EVERYONE !" or she was already dead (i think its the second option because we can see his face drop as he sees Felicia lifeless like "...no no no hey no this isnt supposed to happen !") ..) , Vander saw Silco at the wrong moment wrong time , and decided to just attack him...

Now just imagine that: you are fighting for your life and your people's lives , and you see your bestfriend dead , and you try to process that shit all while you have raging enforcers running at you wanting to arrest/kill you , and on top of that you have no time to explain or you simply cant explain to your brother why and how y'all best friend died ... and this brother of yours decides to attack you and kill you in the worse ways (drowning + gauging your left eye out) ... all you can think about is "i lost everyone... he hates me ! They all hate me! i hate them all ! Betrayers !" , you dont have time to think "its a misunderstanding ... its gonna be okay" ...

Of course i aint condoneing everything , im just stating the facts like...of course he would turn out this way after that crap ! The opposite woulda surprised me !

Also despite his "im a fucking menace" act... you can see when Vander attacks him again in S1 A3 , his first reaction is to FREEZE and have flashbacks of him being drowned again... THAT GUY STILL GETS MF PTSD LIKE DUDE GO TO THERAPY AND CALM YOUR TITS ! (He has to shake himself off like "WAKE UP HE IS GONNA KILL YOU !" to react)

(No i wont mention how...lame the excuse letter was , i mean , I know vander is shit at this (thats what he says in the letter too bwaha) but...he could have maybe asked for Benzo or someone else to help him write the letter for Silco ? Like instead of just "yeah uhm im sorry uhm...find me at the bar eh ?" (Which would have infuriated Silco even more imo , like imagine you get disfigurated and almost killed and the person who did that gives you a poor piece of paper ? He would have gone like "OH YEAH IM COMING TO THE MF LAST DROP AND IM GONNA KICK HIS DAMN ASS !" instead of "...mehhh fine okay") like an actual "lets have a talk...like two adults" one-)

Thankyou for assisting an episode of: Jinx takes a globally insignificant thing too much at heart !

- Jinx out

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse (Theo to reader), Theo just being himself, let me know if I missed any.

Wc:4.5K

masterlist

Chapter 9: Birthday Surprise

“Fuck.” Rafe yells before sucking on his finger. You look up from the table setting the scissors down. “Are you okay?” He just nods before going back to trying his best to soothe his paper cut. The two of you are trying to be quiet as Vi takes her nap. You thought it would be a good time to wrap her birthday presents.

Which meant Rafe thought it was a great time to wrap his birthday presents. Let’s just say he went all out. A few weeks ago the three of you went to the main land to the mall. Of course Rafe had to take her to the toy store there. You practically had to fight the both of them to leave without those drivable kid cars.

You may have won that battle but Rafe sure as hell won the war. When you were at Tanny Hill yesterday you found the big box in his closet. He went back without you and got the damn car. Bet he’s  regretting it now as he heals his papercut. “Aren’t there people that do this shit for a living?” You shake your head at him as you finish your presents and go help him.

“Have I told you how much I love you and how amazing you are?” He sweet talks as you wrap his present. “I can’t believe you got her this.” You mumble, fighting back a smile so he doesn’t see. “Yeah, well imagine how cute she’s going to look. You can thank me then.” He’s right. Vi is going to love it and you are excited to see her reaction. 

“You know she’s been telling me about a dog.” Rafe cheekily says as you finish wrapping the gift. You dropped the bow you were picking up. “I swear if you get her a dog you’ll regret it.” He lets out a laugh and moves the gift away from you. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” There’s a hint of suggestion in his voice. A small smile creeps its way to your face as he crawls closer to you.

“Maybe I’ll teach you a lesson this time.” Rafe pauses mid way to you, his eyes flickering between yours. His head tilts to the side as he assesses you. “And how’d you do that?” He gets closer to you, sneaking between your legs. Slowly he presses kisses to the side of your neck, making his way up to your lips. Just as his lips are going to meet yours, you move your head away. Using your hands you push yourself up causing him to fall back.

“Where are you going?” You ignore him and pick up the presents. Carrying them, you make your way to the hall closet and hide them. Heavy footsteps follow you, stopping right behind you. When you turn around he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you. “That pretty boy is your lesson. Get her a dog and you can just kiss seeing me naked again goodbye.” 

He licks his lips as he looks down at you. “I mean how could I say no to kissing your naked body.” Shaking your head you push him further away. “I mean it, Rafe. I don’t want a dog in this house. June would probably have a heart attack.” The two of you know you are lying. June would love it since she’s an animal person. But a dog would be too much for you to deal with. 

Plus who would take care of it while you are at the shop and Jo is working. Granted Jo worked from home but she still had to look after June. It would just be too hectic in the house and you don’t know if that’s what you need. 

“I guess you have a point. Party pooper.” Just as he finished his sentence there was a voice calling you. “Mommy!” Vi yells as she wakes up from her little nap. Rafe doesn't bring up the dog conversation for the rest of the day which you are thankful for. But you did overhear Violet try to sweet talk her way into one. Man she’s good because you were ready to cave in.

Eventually she got tired and you put her to bed. Jo and Rafe set up the living room as June bossed them around. Tomorrow you have another court hearing. This time there’s going to be testomoney’s which makes you nervous. Jo’s parents flew out and are currently on their way over to the house. As they are one of the first to talk on your behalf. 

Diane told you that his parents are going to be his first witness’. The last time you saw them was at your parents funeral. They had cornered you after the service berating you for showing up. You remember going back home just to cry for the rest of the day. Sure your parents weren’t great but you loved them. All you wanted was for them to love you back or at least not care about themselves more than you. 

Seeing them again is going to be hard. 

“Rafe if you drop that vase I will ban you from this house.” The man stops dead in his tracks. His other hand finds the vase so he’s using both hands. He clears his throat as he nods his head. “Sorry Juney.” You giggle and help Jo pull out the mattress from the couch. As you put the finishing touches there’s a knock on the door. Jo practically sprints over just to almost tackle her parents.

Lillian is the first to break from the hug and run over to you. “Oh if it isn’t my other baby. How are you? How's my little girl?” She rattle off as he hugs you tight. A second pair of arms squeeze you both. “Hi sweetheart.” You laugh as they bombard you with questions. “I’m good and Vi’s sleeping. She’s going to be happy in the morning.”

They are going to answer until a voice cuts them off. “I gave birth to you and yet I’m ignored.” June fakes a sigh as Lillian and Benji go over to hug her. “Sorry mom. It’s just been weird without the girls. We’re happy to see you.”  They catch up a little bit as you go to find Rafe. He’s standing in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. 

“Hey you okay?” Rafe jumps a little at your words, turning to look at you. “What if they don’t like me?” His eyes are just barely looking over your shoulder as if he is scared of what could walk in. “Why would they hate you?” Walking closer you stop just short of him as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m me. My own parents didn’t even like me.” His hands find his hair pulling at the strands. 

“They're your parents. What they think matters and I can’t lose the two of you. What happens when they hate me? I can’t put you through that.” You make your way to him and wrap your arms around his middle. “Jo and June love you, so does Vi. I love you Rafe.” The weight of his arms rest on your shoulders as he squeezes you back. “They’ll love you and want to know how I know that.” He pulls away to look down at you. “You are one of the best people I’ve ever met. You loved Vi from the start and that alone will make them like you.” 

Footsteps start to echo in the hallway and you know they’ll come in here soon. “Plus Benji is a space nerd just like you. That gives you at least some brownie points.” Rafe laughs at the joke as they enter the room. “Jesus Jo you said he was attractive but that doesn’t even cover it.” Lillian gawks as she walks into the kitchen. Rafe pulls away from you to greet her and Benji. He had poured glasses of water for them, which he offered with a shy smile.

It was weird seeing Rafe being awkward around someone. Which didn’t last long as Lillian and Benji asked him a bunch of questions. By the time they are done it’s time for bed. “I’m telling you the Celestron NexStar is the best one.” Benji tells Rafe. “I’ll have to look into it. Have a goodnight.” Rafe shakes his hand and gives Lillian a hug.

As the two of you settle into bed you smile. “Think it went well?” you ask him, hoping his nerves have calmed. “Good I think. I really like them.” You turn to your side and rest your head on his chest. “They like you too. I could tell.” Snuggling in closer your eyes start to drift. “Really?” Rafe’s voice is quiet but you still heard it. Nodding your head you answer him before sleep takes you.

✦✦✦✦✦

“All rise for Judge Argent.” Everyone stands up as the judge walks in and sits down. “You may all be seated. Welcome back everyone. I have reviewed the evidence brought forth and viewed the witness list. Mrs. Simmons, are you ready to call up your first witness.” Diane sends you a smile as she stands up. “Yes, your honor. The defense would like to call Lillian Bridely to the stand.”

Lillian is escorted by an officer to the stand and made to swear to tell the truth. As her hand leaves the bible her eyes meet yours and you feel at peace. All the nerves from the day just disappeared. “Mrs. Bridely.” DIane starts but it cuts off. “Please call me Lillian. Mrs. Bridely makes me seem too old.” The courtroom chuckles at her attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Well Lillian, can you tell the court how you know the defendant?” Diane is standing in the middle of the room, blocking you a bit from her. “The defendant has been my daughter's best friend since elementary school. She spent a lot of time at our house. Then after she was kicked out she lived with us.” Diane nods as Lillian finishes her statement. She walks a little to the side and then asks her next question. 

“When you said she was kicked out, was that by her parents” Lillian nods her head and answers yes. “After they found out she was pregnant they said some awful things and told her to leave. Jo had brought her to the house right after and she stayed there until moving here.” Theo lawyer looks like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t. “What was the reaction to her pregnancy?” 

Lillian takes a deep breath. “She told my daughter Jo first. Which then meant we were told because our daughter has a big mouth. When my husband Benji and I talked to her she seemed scared.” Theo lawyer stands up. “Objection, this is speculation on how the defendant felt.” Judge Argent raises a hand ordering him to sit back down. “Mrs. Simmons please proceed and I advise you to be precise with your wording.” Diane shoots a look at the other lawyer before proceeding. “Lillian, describe how you thought she was scared.”

“She told us. She said she was scared of how her parents and Theo would react.” Lillian looks at you and it feels like you are back to that moment. The worry in her eyes are the same as they were years ago. “Why was that?” Diane asks. “May her parents rest in peace but they were obsessed with their image. The only reason why Theo and her were together was because their parents wanted it. I would sometimes overhear them berating her. Saying that she was a…”

Lillian clears her throat, swallowing the lump that's forming. “A what?” Diane encourages her to finish. “A mistake and failure. They were ashamed that she would get pregnant. They told her it was a good thing Theo left since now she couldn’t ruin his life.” Diane and everyone looks over at Theo. He looks pissed as Lillian stares down at him. Next to him Delia looks between them as if trying to assess the situation. 

“You say Mr. Wixx left. Can you describe what you mean?” Lillian looks at Diane. “She had him come to our house and told him there. My husband, Jo and I stayed in the kitchen and they talked in the living room. After she told him, he started screaming. Saying that it was going to ruin his life. That he never wanted to be a dad, especially not a kid with her.” Theo’s lawyer whips his head to look at his client. 

“Is this the first time you witnessed Mr. Wixx raise his voice?” The question almost made her laugh. “No, he had a habit of finding things to be mad about. I witnessed him yell at her during their senior prom. All over the flower of his boutonniere. Called her and I apologize for my language ‘a stupid dumb bitch who can’t do anything right’. Then proceeded to yell at her for crying.” 

“You remember those exact words?” Tears start to form in your eyes at the memory. If you are being honest it was buried along with so many others. That night he convinced everyone you would be staying at a hotel for the weekend. But in reality it was just so no one could see the bruises he left on your body after. “Yes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve heard him say things. I kept a log of what I heard.”

Diane nods and goes to the table to grab a paper. She sends you a wink. “I would like to bring evidence 1A to the stand.” The judge looks over the document as Mr. Campbell scrambles to read it. “This is a large list Lillian.” Diane casually mentions. “I’ve seen a lot.” Lillian adds. “Can you tell me what you witnessed on March 17th?” You scrunch your nose not knowing what they are talking about. “I was asleep and woke up to pounding on the door. When I opened it she came rushing in only for me to see Theo hot on her trails. Benji stopped him and told him to leave as I talked to her.”

You are confused about what she’s talking about. You can kind of remember being with him that day but not going to their house. “She had a black eye and cuts along her hair line. I asked her questions but she wasn’t making any sense. We took her to the hospital and found that it was a concussion. The following week I checked up on her and she didn’t even remember that day. The whole day was just gone.” You tune out what she says after that. 

How many memories do you not have because of him? Was it really that bad? You’re so stuck in your head that you didn’t realize that Theo’s lawyer already cross examined her. Benji sits on the stand answering some of Diane’s questions. It looks like Diane is finishing up as he ends his last statement. “Thank you. That’s all your honor.” Mr. Campbell stands up fixing his suit. “Mr. Bridely can you tell me about your relationship with the defendant.” He stands tall trying to make himself look taller. “My daughter's best friend but she’s family.”

“Would it be safe to say that you feel over protective about the defendant?” Benji goes to roll his eyes but stops. “Yes, any father would be over protective.” “But you aren’t her father are you?” Benji’s left eye does the little twitch it does when he’s upset. “Maybe not biologically but in my heart that’s my daughter. I’ve watched her grow up with mine and I’m grateful we were able to be in her life.” Mr. Campbell looks irritated at the answer but moves on.

“Have you ever witnessed Mr. Wixx put his hands on the defendant?” Benji takes in a breath. “No, I have never witnessed him lay a hand on her.” Campbell interrupts him. “Thank you Mr. Bridely.” “But I have witnessed him verbally assault her. I have seen the bruises that were left behind after she’s been with him. I witnessed how a child that was so bright lost the light in her eyes at the hands of the plaintiff.” Campbell interrupts him again. “Thank you Mr. Bridely. I have no further questions.”

Judge argent watches as Campbell walks back to his table slamming his papers down. “You are dismissed.” Benji walks off the stand and sits next to his wife. “I will go over the statements given today. We will be here at the same time in two weeks. Have a great rest of your day.” The officer to the side of the judge argent steps forward. “All rise.” With that Argent leaves and court is over.

You thank Diane and meet everyone out front. You hug Lillian and Benji thanking them. “Stop thanking us. You should know by now that we will always help you.” Rafe wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. Then a throat clears behind you. Theo is standing there with Delia besides him holding a gift. “I just wanted to give you Violet’s birthday present.” Delia hands the gift to you but you can’t help to notice Theo’s tone. He isn’t happy and he’s showing it. Delia forces a smile at you which you return. Then you do something really stupid.

“Actually here, you can give it to her at the birthday party. I can text you the details.” Rafe tenses beside you and you can feel everyone's eyes on you. “Really?” Delia asks, her eyes are shining and you kind of feel bad. Sure she’s with Theo and seems like a bit much. But she does seem nice based on how she acts with others. She’s still dumb for practically kidnapping Vi but you can’t help but to feel for her. 

“You don’t have to pretend Prim.” Theo’s eyes narrow at you. “I’m not. This is me giving you an olive branch.” You hold his stare and it feels like you’re communicating. He knows this is a move on your end. He just doesn’t know how he should plan his next move. “We’ll be there.” He takes Delia’s hand and walks away leaving you in awkwardness.

The whole ride home they kept asking you how you could invite him over. “Diane said we need to play along.” You try to argue but no one listens to you. “That doesn’t mean that you had to invite him.” After a long time of explaining yourself they got the hint. “If I do this then it looks like I’m trying. He’ll eventually fall apart and this will all be over.” They finally dropped it and agreed it would be a good idea. What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out a lot of things. You had picked up the cake only to drop it in the driveway. Lillian and Benji ran to the closest bakery to find something to use. Then the decorations weren’t enough so Jo had to run to the story to get more. It seemed like the day was just going wrong. But Vi was having a blast helping put things up so at least she was having fun.

It was stressful getting everything ready but it was finally done. Just in time for people to start to show up.

You had invited some of the kids from the neighborhood. Rafe got a bouncy house so you knew they would enjoy it. Plus you have been doing playdates with some of the other moms. Which is nice because now you feel like you have mom friends who can give you tips. The kids run from outside to inside the house chasing each other around. You found a tik tok about potion making and since it's Halloween month you thought it was perfect. 

There’s an area in the living room where some of the younger kids are making potions. Vi is laughing as she pours glitter everywhere and you know you’ll regret it later. There was a knock on the door and you opened it to see some of Rafe’s friends. “Hey sorry we’re late. Kelce forgot a card and needed to get one.” Topper explains as he hugs you. “Dude I already told you, a gift needs a card. Hey good to see you.” Kelce greets.

They enter the house so you go to close the door but see Theo and Delia. They make their way in saying hi and you show them where they can leave the present. “Everything looks great.” Delia compliments. “Thanks took a while to set up. Just happy it turned out alright.” They go off and mingle as you try to make sure everything is good. 

Two hours tick by and you decide it's probably time for cake. Everyone has already eaten so dessert might be a good idea. Lillian brings out the replacement cake. Everyone sings happy birthday to a squealing Vi. You help her blow out her candles because she’s still trying to eat cake right away. Don’t think she grasps the concept of blowing them out fully. “Alright mom, time for a family photo.” Jo exclaims as she pulls out her phone. 

You bend down next to her but before Jo can take the photo, Vi shocks you all. “Daddy, come!” She yells as she waves at Rafe. The whole room becomes silent as you all watch Rafe. There’s a moment of panic then it's whipped away from his face. He smiles as he walks over and kneels on the other side of Vi. “I’m here sweet girl.” He whispers to her. “Okay, say cheese.” You all look at Jo and repeat the word.

She takes a few photos of the three of you. Then Rafe takes some of you, Vi, Jo, June, Lillian, and Benji. You forced Sarah and Wheezie into some photos as well but they didn’t seem to complain. Once photos were out of the way, the cake was cut and distributed. Kids now we're crashing from all the food and sugar so the party was coming to an end. The only people still left were all adults.

Rafe helps Vi open presents as the rest of you sit and watch. She was so excited when she saw the toy car that the rest of the gifts were almost abandoned. Her favorite part was having the chance to throw the wrapping everywhere because she could make a mess. Plus she got a lot of cool new toys that she was really excited about. You were cleaning up the mess that was left behind as Benji tries to set up the car.

“Okay so I have another gift that I want to give Vi.” Rafe starts to talk as Jo exits the room. Everyone turns to look at him but he’s only looking at you. “I know we already talked about it but I’m weak and caved.” Your ears perk up at his wording and you glare at him. “Rafe you did not.” He smiles at you and shrugs his shoulders. You stand up, dropping the wrapping paper in your hands. “What did he do?” Wheezie asks.

“She keeps begging me for it and I couldn’t say no. Plus she’s going to be staying at my house. So see, problem solved.” Just as he finishes his sentence Jo walks in with the cutest English bulldog. It looks like a puppy since it’s still so small. When you look at Vi her eyes light up as she jumps up from her seat. She runs over to the dog waiting patiently as Jo puts it down. You walk over as the puppy sniffs her hand and licks it causing her to laugh.

“What do you think baby?” You ask as you pet the new addition. Vi smiles bigly and hugs the puppy. “I love dog.”  She exclaims happily. You shoot Rafe a look but really you can’t be mad. She looks so happy. “It better be staying at yours.” You say as you move the dog to your lap. “She is. I have everything set up already. She just needs a name.” “Peach.” Vi says. As if the puppy knew she let out a little bark. “Alright, peach it is.”

Rafe tells you how he went to the shelter and found her in one of the cages. Peach is just eight months old, practically a baby. The more you find out the more you fall in love. When she falls asleep she lets out these cute little snores. It only makes her look cuter. The excitement of a dog was the signal that said the party was over. Everyone was grabbing their things and saying goodbye.

Theo and Delia were one of the last to leave. There’s a sort of energy around THeo as he stands by the door. You can see that Delia is talking to him but he’s not listening. He is too busy staring at you and Rafe pretending to be a family with Vi. It pisses him off that for a while he’s been trying to get Violet to call him dad and she wont. Just for her to call a random man daddy in front of so many people. It’s embarrassing and now he knows why you invited him.

You make your way over to them to see them out. “Thank you again for coming. Have a safe drive back.” You offer as you open the door. Theo stares down at you in disgust. “Are you happy now that you’ve made a fool of me? You are just so insufferable that you had to take jabs at me at our daughter's birthday.” Delia’s eyes widen a bit and she gives him a look as if to say stop talking. “I can’t wait for you to realize that he’ll leave you too. Enjoy your make believe world while you can.” 

Delia and you watch as he walks down the driveway. You stand there shocked at his stupidity. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s been upset recently.” You tell her it’s okay. In reality it is okay because he’s wrong. Rafe isn’t going to leave you because he’s different.Theo can try all he wants but he’s not going to get in your head and make you doubt Rafe. 

“Don’t apologize for him. He’s not sorry but it’s okay.” She looks at you for a moment and just nods. “It really was a great party. Thank you again for inviting us.” She follows after her fiance leaving you to watch from the doorway. It’s weird to think that you were in her shoes just a few years ago. That even with your warning she is still standing with him. Then you think about how you never once asked for help. Every time he did something you kept quiet out of fear. But that fear isn’t going to stop you now. 

You close the door blocking them from your view. Making a promise to yourself that no matter what Theo throws at you, he will not get your daughter.

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers @ijustwanttoreadlols @drewsphswife @corpsebridenightamare @actorslover @juniperbaies @fionaswifeyy @dark1paradise @stoned-writer @notafairyteen @theoraekenslover @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore@10ava01 @selfcontollover07 @akobx let me know if you want to be added

[peach-top]

❝𝙑𝙄𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉❞

➤ ACT I. | CHAPTER IV.

➤ RED SPIDER LILY

“And that's how I was able to use my magic for the first time.” [Y] finished while showing off his bow and arrow. “Wind Archer taught me. I have others like Moonlight Cookie to help me with my spell. Some were self-taught. For example; I taught myself how to heal and revive living beings.”

“You seem to be taught really well in the forest without having to go to the Blueberry Yogurt Academy.” White Lily praises the taller male. “Incredible.”

“Thanks. It's not that big of a deal.” The taller male shrugged as his weapon vanished in thin air. “It's not as strong as Wind Archer since I'm unable to control the wind, so I used other magic.”

“I've been in the forest for so long that I never know what could be waiting for me to discover. For example, I learned how to read foreign languages and write back in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Still a little sloppy, but it's worth a try.”

“Oh, I can't forget that I tried ice cream coffee for the first time. It tastes bitter and sweet.” [Y] continued, “Dark Cacao was kind enough to give me a tour and taught me new things that I've never experienced before.”

White Lily blinked owlishly, “Oh? I've never thought Dark Cacao would be so kind to someone…He is always so serious, but he's not a bad person.”

“True, but I've been seeing him smiling and laughing a lot. Wasn't he always like that?” [Y] tilted his head. “Most of all…he grants me a kiss on the lip before leaving. I don't know what it meant, but I think it's nice.”

White Lily flinched. A kiss? Dark Cacao kiss [Y]? Why? Why was that all of the sudden? Was he an evil clone? Was he put in a good mood? Or…did Dark Cacao fall in love? That's unlike Dark Cacao.

“D…did he really kiss you?” The white haired female gasped.

“Yeah. I wouldn't lie about it.”

“...!”

“I see that you two are getting along. How's everything?” Elder Faerie approached the two.

“It's going pretty well. We were just talking about my travels.” [Y] answered.

The elder faerie turned his attention on White Lily and asked, “White Lily Cookie, are you feeling well? Well enough to open up to the faeries who are awaiting your arrival?”

“Ah…N-not yet…”

“...I understand. We'll wait until you're comfortable.” Elder Faerie nodded with understanding. “It’s getting late. I think you two should get some rest. I will give you two a place to rest.”

“Thank you…”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Both White Lily and [Y] were given shelters next to each other, thanks to the faeries who lend them a place to rest. Elder Faerie has to keep watch of the flower that was once again trying to escape. Since [Y] is no longer in their sight, it was becoming much more aggressive, the more it lost the sense of the old master.

“What can we do?” One of the knights frowned.

“...I’ll keep watch of it. I know a magic trick to keep it from escaping.” Elder Faerie answered. “However, starting tomorrow, I would like to set it free.”

“B-but your majesty —”

“Don't worry, it won't attack [Y]. I would like to see if it can be tamed by him.” the elder faerie stated.

“?”

Unknownist to Elder Faerie, a white lily flower slowly turned into a red spider lily flower.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

White Lily Cookie wakes up to find herself in a black void filled with nothingness. She looked around in panic, calling out for the faeries and [Y], but there were no responses.

“W-where am I…?” White Lily whined. She felt white lily flowers suddenly appear beneath her. “White lilies?”

As she reaches out to touch the flower, only for them all to turn into red spider lilies, catching her off guard. What is even more terrifying, eyes starting popping out from around her.

“...?!”

The female heard heavy footsteps coming from behind her until it stopped. White Lily was too afraid to turn around and faced that person who happened to appear out of nowhere. The aura…the aura is what put her in fear.

❝so…you're white lily cookie.❞ a stoic and deep voice spoke. ❝you’re not someone who I expected. none of you so-called heroes reached my interest. however…you…❞

White Lily tense when the mysterious figure gently grabbed her braid then let it drop on the ground, ❝…are someone i despise. if i were to get control of your body, i would've use all my power to regain my body and memories then killed you…❞

“...W…why me…?” White Lily asked in fear.

❝why…? didn't you cause the birth of dark enchantress cookie? release the spirit? deal with a dragon? ah, can i not forget…you nearly awoke me from the dead. a pity…that i was reborn as someone pure and innocent by that tree…worse, you sealed my beloved friends before they can set themselves free…❞

“?!”

❝don't you realize how unfair it is to have someone precious to you being taken away and your own people you trusted betrayed you behind your damn back❞ the mysterious figure asked in a angry tone. ❝look at what i become. someone who was born with anger, betrayal, and distrust. i envy anyone who didn't suffer a similar fate.❞

“...Who are you…?”

❝you haven't heard my real name…you all call me “the watcher” but my real name is…red spider lily…don't you forget…❞

Before White Lily could ask a question, Red Spider Lily placed his hands on her throat, strangling her. He won't let anyone wake up from their dream without feeling any pain. White Lily struggled to breathe and break free, but unfortunately his grasp was getting stronger, making it impossible for her to escape.

❝you’ll feel little to no pain when you wake up, however you will be awoken with a mark on your throat…you won't remember this conversation either except my name and your encounter of this place. we will probably meet again…in person…❞

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

White Lily jolted awake, holding her throat. [Y] was sitting next to her with a concerned look on his face, “White Lily Cookie…”

“...[Y]...” White Lily whimpered. The taller male panicked slightly, “Did you have a nightmare? You were whimpering in your sleep when I'm trying to wake you up.”

“...I can't remember what I was dreaming about…” the white haired female frowned. “All I can remember is…Red Spider Lily Cookie…”

“Red Spider Lily Cookie? Who's that?”

White Lily replied, “It's the real name of The Watcher. I'm not sure why I remember that.”

[Y] noticed a large purplish red bruise on the female's throat. He pointed out, “White Lily…Was that always there?”

“Huh? What is it?” White Lily tilted her head. The taller male grabbed a mirror from the shelf and showed it off to the female. White Lily gasped at the sight of the mark on her neck. It wasn't there before. So how is it there now?

“When I arrived here after hearing you choking and whimpering, I saw that mark on your neck.” [Y] pointed.

“...!”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Elder Faerie frowned while witnessing the white lilies slowly turning red. He gritted his teeth, feeling anxious about this cause these lilies symbolize death, plus these flowers belong to someone he wished he could forget.

“The lilies are turning into…” Silverbell trailed off as he kneel down before a red spider lily and reached his finger to touch it, “...red spider lilies…It hasn't been seen for thousands of years.”

“Have he awoken…?” Elder Faerie whispered to himself. “No…impossible. I don't sense him anywhere or nearby. There had to be something else.”

“Elder Faerie? What's going on?” [Y] asked before turning his attention to the lilies, “Oh? Were the lilies always like this?”

Elder Faerie frowned, “[Y] seems the same. Nothing changed, but why the red spider lilies here?”

“Red Spider Lily Cookie…” Everyone turned their attention on White Lily who just arrived after the wanderer. Elder Faerie raised his eyebrows, “What did you say?”

“Red Spider Lily Cookie. It's the real name of the lord of all eyes…” White Lily replied.

“...! How…do you know his name? How can you be so sure about that?” the elder faerie’s eyes widened.

“...” The white haired female grasped on her staff tightly, “...I’ve met him in my dream. I don't remember the conversation, but it all felt so…real. He choked me at the end, leaving a mark.”

“I try to heal it, but it doesn't seem to go away.” [Y] frowned as the female removed the bandages from her neck, revealing the purplish red bruise on her neck. Elder Faerie gasped, “...Impossible…”

“White Lily Cookie…! A-are you hurt?” Silverbell panicked.

“I…I'm fine. It doesn't hurt.”

“He's trying to escape, isn't he? To gain back his power and his body. Red Spider Lily is still fighting to escape.” The elder faerie thought. “Millennial Tree was able to communicate with the master who created Red Spider Lily Cookie. If I could let myself sleep, perhaps I can find a way to communicate with the creator and the lord.”

╭ ⁞ ❏. facts

┊ ⁞ ❏. red spider lily can communicate with other in their dreams and leave damage on their body once they wake up

┊ ⁞ ❏. a special guest will be coming soon

➤ chapter iii.

➤ chapter v.

[toxinoire]

While Polites isn't my fave, he seems very strong willed but very traumatized and Open Arms shows it.

It's the fact that he's a soldier, he's killed people, he's seen the filth of the world.

He chooses to greet the rest of the world's beauty with kindness and open arms, but for a more twisted traumatized reason.

Listening to the song, you hear these specific lines: "I see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart" and "So why not replace it and light up the world? Here's how to start: greet the world with open arms"

It feels enthusiastic, until you recall that Polites is also a soldier.

Come on, "I know that you're tired of the war and bloodshed" so is he. "You can show a person that you trust them when you stop and lower your guard" He wants to trust more people, but ones he knows he can trust. For example: Ody, Eury, the crew. He wants them to have open vulnerability, because they're all traumatized and should, quite frankly, be open with each other.

He should have the same guilt as Odysseus. He has just as much blood on his hands as Odysseus. He does. But he lets go of the guilt, why? Those are the filth of the world, they're not the ones you can embrace with open arms, they're not the amazing parts of life.

Polites is ruthless in his own way. He greets the beautiful things in life with kindness and open arms, yes. But I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to rid of the filth in it. The Lotus Eaters for example: they welcomed them on the island. They hadn't tried to attack, hadn't been on guard. No, they were all "Welcome :D" which is why Polites believed them to be nice, and he was willing to believe that because he literally just got back from killing multiple Trojans.

In the Cyclops Saga, Polites doesn't even protest killing Polyphemus. If he's truly as kind as he appears, he probably would have protested. He'd probably tell Ody that they killed his friend first, try to negotiate more. Maybe he'd be the one to negotiate. But he doesn't, he was also one of those soldiers fighting Polyphemus, but he had died.

But one might say "Oh but in the Underworld his last thoughts-" Yeah true, but when you're on the brink of death, after seeing so much filth in the world, you'll want to see something nice in it.

He wanted to still see the beauty of the world even as he was smashed by a club. Wanted Odysseus to let go of the guilt as Ody is very much a dear friend of his and doesn't want him to suffer, so he tries to convince him to at least see the beauty of the world.

He wasn't intending for Odysseus to try to be merciful or spare his enemies, he just wanted him to see the remaining beauty in an otherwise filthy world.

Polites is actually more layered if you take note that he's a soldier. He wasn't naive and too trusting, he just wanted to see good in an otherwise bad world. That was a trauma response.