#THAT WAS CHANGED HALFWAY THROUGH THE LAST SEASON MIND YOU

[1nt3rnalpu7ref4ct10n]

s5e6

[kumkaniudaku]

Sorry 2024

Summary: This is Terry's sorry for 2024. He ain't gonna mess up no more this year.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Previous: *Askew

Pastel blue light filtered through linen curtains and filled the quaint kitchen while Patrice maneuvered between the refrigerator and nearby counter. She spoke a mile a minute, running through a laundry list of important tasks and updates to keep Terry aware of the day’s needs. 

He halfway listened while he scarfed down piping hot oatmeal to satisfy post-workout hunger and used his index finger to scrub backward on game film from the previous week. His receiver core was shaky at best. They’d need to tighten up in the final game of the season if they planned to start their playoff run strong and remain in the hunt for a the ever elusive state championship.

“Honey, don’t forget I’m driving your truck to work because you’re getting my oil changed during your lunch. Where are the keys?” The sugar-sweet lilt in her voice reserved for Terry and Terry only went mostly unnoticed by her husband. 

“Yeah. That’s good, baby.”

Patrice paused packing her lunch and shifted her weight to one side with a hand on her hip. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“I heard you,” he answered, finally looking up. 

“What did I say?” 

“That you’re taking the leftovers. That’s good with me. I’ll grab something on base.” 

“I said that fifteen minutes ago. Strike two.” 

Terry’s mouth hung open for a half second as he thought back through their one-sided conversation. Admittedly, his mind was split into a million different streams of thought. Work problems, coaching responsibilities, household bills, the incoming holiday season, and its host of arrangements all fought for his attention day in and day out, leaving little room for intentional quality time with his wife. 

For Patrice, the indifference toward her when she talked to him was frustrating and getting old. On too many occasions she’d forgiven him for staring off into space or flat-out ignoring her when she spoke. If silence is what he wanted, she was well on the way to granting his wish. 

Swallowing down a gulp of water, Terry rushed to respond. “Woah, woah! Two? What was the first?” 

“I asked you to turn the dryer on last night while I took a shower and guess who woke up to wet clothes this morning? C’mon. Guess!” 

“Oh, shit.” Terry’s face contorted as he winced at the memory finally returning. 

“Oh shit. Go away.” She mocked with an exaggerated deep voice before rolling her eyes and making a face. Mimicry, in his experience since the tender age of 15, was usually the prelude to a vicious attitude that had turned many into sworn enemies for life.

“My bad, Treece. I started wa-” 

“Watching tape and forgot. Sing me a different song, Terrence.” 

The disappointment etched in her beautiful features sent Terry’s stomach into the soles of his feet. Patrice’s full lips sagged into a heavy frown as she wrestled food containers into her lunchbox without looking in his direction. He could take her mumbling her anger or sending more than a few curse words his way. But the sadness in her silence was too much. 

After pressing pause on his screen, Terry took measured steps toward Patrice to avoid disturbing an angry lion. 

He touched her hip first to test the waters. When she didn’t reject him, he moved in to take up space behind her and pull her back against his body. He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear. “I won’t make excuses. Forgive me, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.” 

Resistance faded slowly but surely as he nuzzled his nose into her neck between kisses. Tense muscles melted under his touch, relishing the extra attention meant to settle a disagreement. Anger fought to remain the chief emotion. Everything in her wanted to continue forging a war path until she was satisfied with the destruction. But she’d always had a weakness for this man with a smooth baritone and big hands that he loved to rub up and down her body.

She kissed her teeth before turning to plant a kiss on his cheek as a silent truce. “Whatever. You’re lucky I like you more than most other people.” 

“What I gotta do to get that like to a love before you leave the house?” 

Patrice pulled Terry’s bottom lip into another kiss and smiled. “It’d be great if you confirmed you used your mama’s Costco card to get the study hall snacks like we talked about.” 

Terry froze. For days he’d had the nagging feeling that he was neglecting a task. Something important but vague among all of the other thoughts and responsibilities swirling in his head. He’d hoped for a reminder, but not like this, not on the heels of wriggling his way out of Patrice’s wrath only moments before. 

Ever perceptive, Patrice didn’t need him to speak to know that he’d, once again, missed a memo. Anger was back from its short hiatus and making her body hot to the touch in a way Terry had been spared from his entire life. 

She fought to wrestle free from his grasp, her body thrashing until he relented and let her go. Terry watched her stomp around the kitchen, snatching items from the counter and forcing them into her bag on her way to the front door. He remained hot on her heels with pleas to make things right on his lips until she stopped short at the coat closet.

“Strike three! You’re so fuckin’ selfish sometimes, Terry, I swear.” She grumbled as she swapped her car keys for his on their shared personal items hook. “I thought you would grow out of that by now but here you are, damn near 33 years old, and still doing the same shit.”  

The dig at his past transgressions stung more than Terry expected. He tried to maintain his composure though the wounded man inside wanted to get to the bottom of why she’d chosen to toss such an insult out so casually. 

He took a deep breath to quell the combative questions clawing through his throat while he watched her shrug on her coat with spite in her eyes. “Look, I messed up. We don’t need to start throwing jabs back and forth. How can I help?”

His attempt to reach out for her hand was thwarted once she snatched away to yank open the front door.

“Terrence, the time to help was early this week. Hell, last night even. I don’t have time for your sorry this morning. I gotta go figure this out by myself yet again.” 

Immense guilt attached itself to Terry, producing a heavy heart as he tried to make sense of Patrice’s most venomous blowup to date. Never had she been so crass toward him, not even when he deserved it most. She’d always been the pinnacle of grace and forgiveness. What scared him most was the suspicion that she was more unhappy with his disappearing act than she’d let on in all their honest talks about their path forward after heartbreak. Half of him wanted to chase her into the early morning chill, stop her from leaving, and convince her to call in so that they could sort through every issue, past and present, until they were back on the right side of newlywed bliss. Rational thought told him that some things were best solved through action.

Bitterness fueled the remainder of Patrice’s day. Jokes in the breakroom were no longer funny. Her class clowns were less charming by fourth period. A fierce bout of irritability resulted in a pop quiz for her senior AP English class for not participating in the group discussion to her liking. Every second of every minute carried a dark, heavy cloud that she couldn’t shake. 

She wanted to scream at Terry until her chest caved in from exhaustion. She wanted to throw things across the room, destroying every item in her path until the sting of compounded letdowns, actions he wasn’t even responsible for, was distilled back into the tiny box of rage she kept tucked away in her heart. She kept it hidden on purpose. If it ever got loose, there was no guarantee she could fix the damage it left behind. 

Once school bells had rang and children were carted off to their respective homes, Patrice sat behind her desk with a small committee of cheerleaders congregating in her classroom. She kept her focus on grading the mountain of quizzes she’d created for herself, silently ready to give everyone extra credit for the attempt. 

“Ms. Ellis,” Alana, her captain, started as she dusted Doritos remnants from her fingers. 

Mikayla cut in. “It’s Mrs. Richmond now. She got married! You see her ring.”

“And you ain’t invite us?” Alana gasped, pretending to be offended. “That’s cold Mrs. Richmond. I thought we were cool.” 

“We’re cool, Lana. I didn’t know I was getting married until it happened. No one was invited.” 

“Can I at least see that big ol’ diamond up close?” 

Young girls with fairytales and romance novels seared into their perception of love begged for a chance to see Patrice’s wedding band up close. With more energy, she would shoo them away and redirect them to the bulletin board they abandoned to snack and gossip amongst each other. But arguments before work were taxing and all she could bring herself to do was push away from her desk and join them in the center of their circle with her hand outstretched for their inspection.

Oooh, ahhs, and everything in between overlapped as each young lady took her turn running their fingers up against the clear stone and white gold band engraved with her new initials. 

“I want me a ring just like this!” Camille explained as she took a picture to send to her boyfriend. 

“Can we see your husband? Is he nice like you?” 

Patrice paused. “Uh…yeah. He’s a nice man. You all should be with nice boys, or girls, or whoever you like. Don’t allow anyone to be anything less than nice to you.” 

“Okay, but can we see him,” another girl reiterated. 

“It’s Coach Richmond, duh,” Mikayla exclaimed. “They got the same last name. And they was in this old yearbook together. I saw it in Ms. Shields's class when we were having a yearbook meetin’.” 

More oohs and ahhs, this time fawning over the new football coach on campus and the picture Mikayla had saved to her cellphone. Patrice listened to them gush over the thorn in her side as she eased into a desk to take the pressure off her aching feet. 

Camille looked between the photo and Patrice with a smile. “He was your boyfriend when y’all went here?” 

“For a little bit. Right before we graduated. But we broke up that summer.” 

“How come?”

“He wanted to go to the military and I wanted to go to college,” Patrice answered after a deep sigh. “So, he went his way and I went mine because I wasn’t changing my mind. Remember that. Do what you wanna do. You have a whole life ahead of you.” 

The girls all mumbled some version of their agreeance before another question pushed the tea session forward. 

“Then how did y’all get married. He came back?” 

Patrice smiled at the memory of Terry standing on her porch that fateful summer morning. “Yeah. He just…came back. We talked and never stopped talking after that until he became my husband.”

“Did he say sorry at least?” 

“He always says sorry. All the time. He’s nice like that.” 

A chorus of swooning ‘awws’ rang out in the classroom and escaped into the hallway. Terry was nice like that. It didn’t matter that Patrice wanted to hate him and call him every name but a child of God. He always apologized and he always meant it. 

A distant smile covered Patrice’s face as she twirled her wedding band around her finger. 

Camille took the opportunity to poke fun at her coach. “Aww, look at Mrs. Richmond, y’all. She smiling big! You gon’ let him come to the AP Christmas party?” 

“That ain’t fair! I’m not in AP English and I wanna see him.” 

“Oh my God, we all gon' see him at the games. Calm down.” 

“Alright, alright, alright.” Patrice couldn’t contain her laughter at their eagerness to meet a man two times their senior with no interest in them outside of their connection to her. “Maybe you’ll meet him one day. Today, I need y’all to hurry up and-” 

A knock at the door interrupted Patrice, bringing her attention to a tall, slender young man who instantly turned heads. He smiled bashfully at all the ogling until Patrice redirected his eyes with a wave of her hand.

“What’s up, Deanté? You leave something in here?” 

“Nah. Coach Rich told us to bring some stuff to you. Where you want us to put it?” 

“Umm, I guess you can put it back here by my bookshelves,” she directed, pointing to the back of the room. Confusion created fine lines on her forehead. “I’m sorry, what’s happening?” 

Deanté shrugged in the way only teenaged boys too cool for school could before waving in the rest of his crew. Each of them came bearing the gift of snacks, carrying boxes of wholesale goodies to their intended place like worker ants serving their queen. Chips, cookies, pretzels, juices, and water stacked high along the wall instantly turned her quaint classroom into a stockroom until they’d delivered the final package. Bringing up the rear was Terry with flowers in one hand and a carryout bag from Patrice’s favorite bakery in the other. 

Pressed khaki slacks and a cotton polo fighting for dominance against his veiny bicep should’ve thanked him for making them look better than they ever could alone. Patrice wrestled her gaze away from his long legs to look away before she ended up flustered in front of impressionable children.

He lightly knocked against the door, his gaze soft and his smile welcoming. “May I come in?” 

Like the audience track from a 90s sitcom, young girls squeal in his presence, making him chuckle. Patrice rushed to control the madness. 

“See, this is why I have to keep my eye on y’all. Head to the gym and warm up. I’ll meet y’all down there.” They groaned their displeasure in a last-ditch attempt to buy more time with Terry. She re-emphasized her instructions. “Go on. For every second I have to keep looking at y’all after I’m done talking, that’s a lap. One, two, three…”

Quick feet and the threat of additional exercise cleared the room quickly, leaving Terry at the doorframe waiting for permission to enter. Patrice stood and straightened her turtleneck before inviting him inside. 

“Come in. Close the door behind you.”

Terry did as he was told in silence, hoping to appease the Queen in her castle. Patrice tried to remain stoic as she approached her portable lectern to thumb through the day’s notes and lesson plans. He deposited the flowers onto a nearby shelf then slid into a desk at the front of the class and waited for her to at least acknowledge him beyond a fleeting glance. 

Finally, she looked up and pointed at the white bag resting in front of him. “Is that for me?” 

“Yeah,” Terry smiled. “I haven’t seen you grab one in a while so I hope you still like the cinnamon roll. If not, I got the lemon loaf too. Your other favorite.” 

After all those years separating their adulthood from an entire semester of sneaking away during lunch for a warm, doughy signature roll, Patrice couldn’t believe Terry still remembered such a trivial detail. 

She bit her bottom lip to hide a smile as two short steps took her to the desk beside him. Metal creaked against the floor while they turned to face each other in seats too small for Terry who had come a long way from his high school physique. 

Terry watched Patrice quietly remove her treat from the bag and cut it in half with a plastic knife. She carefully placed one side on a clean napkin and passed it across the small gap separating them. 

She lifted her portion into the air and smiled a friendly smile. “Cheers?” 

“Cheers.” 

Their respective hunks of roll kissed the other briefly before they took big bites to satisfy early afternoon cravings. Terry chuckled as Patrice hummed her satisfaction with her eyes closed and shoulders lifted near her ears. 

A little piece of Heaven. He was happy to provide anything other than the strife he contributed hours earlier. 

“Thank you,” Patrice whispered once the delight of her first bite had passed and her eyes were open again. “It’s still my favorite. You were right.” 

He didn’t respond past a small nod and a small half smile as he watched her enjoy another bite. His thumbs nervously twiddled around themselves while he wrote and erased apologetic statements in his mind in a search for what to say next. 

“Treece, I can’t say enough how sorry I am.” 

“We don’t need to do this. I overreacted and threw things in your face.” She started, trying to stop the uncomfortable discussion before it could start. 

Terry remained steadfast. “No, you didn’t. You called me out and it was the right thing to do. I have been selfish and you’ve caught the brunt of that for a long time now. It’s not fair.” 

“I just…fuck.” Tears that Patrice had managed to keep at bay during work forced their way past her waterline before she could stop them. She dabbed at them with a napkin and took a deep breath. “I’ve had to be really independent for a long time. Relationships didn’t stop me from doing things on my own because they convinced me that asking for help made me weak. Then you came along and immediately took on more than I could’ve ever asked.”

“That’s what I’m here for, baby.” 

“Yeah, but when you stop all of a sudden or pick and choose when you wanna help, it makes me afraid that one day, you’re gonna stop altogether like everyone else. And I really, really can’t take you being like everyone else.” 

Another layer of Patrice had been shed to leave behind an emotionally raw, vulnerable woman searching for an anchor in her life. The tears were gone, but they left evidence of deep-seated hurt on her face. 

Terry reached across his desk for her hand which she offered without protest though she refused to look him in the eyes. He kissed her knuckles softly, paying special attention to her ring finger before lacing their fingers. 

Sad eyes looked across at her. “You’re my main priority. If you want me to drop all this extra shit, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Say the word and it’s gone.”

“I don’t want that. Be honest with me. Listen to me. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Okay,” he spoke into the inside of her wrist. “Give me a chance to be better.” 

“You already are.” 

Where misunderstanding has once festered, a flower of progress bloomed. They’d traversed uncharted territory as a unit to find common ground that would lay the foundation for years to come. 

Patrice made the first move toward reconciliation, standing from her desk to meet Terry at his side. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, tilting his head up to hers as she stood over him. 

“I love you. Always. I might still be a little miffed, but I’ll get over it. Promise.” She landed a flurry of kisses on his forehead and he accepted while he wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“I understand. I’ll earn your trust again.” 

Fuzzy feelings and chaste affection in what they believed was a safe space were cut short when a small yelp and thud sent a group of girls crashing to the tile floor, pushing her door ajar.

Patrice giggled along with Terry as she turned to get a look at the spectacle. “That’s what you get for being nosey. Now get to the gym for real this time.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Richmond,” they all chanted as they scrambled to stand and scatter. 

Terry listened for them to exit hearing range before turning back to Patrice and leaning up to kiss her lips. 

“I’ll be done with practice at 6:30 sharp and come straight home. Don’t worry about dinner or anything else. Let me handle it.”

“No problem.”

Final kisses and another promise to be home on time sent Terry and Patrice in opposite directions with optimism pumping through their veins. Tomorrow would bring its own storms and issues to work out. But, those were tomorrow’s problems. 

Today, they’d lick their wounds and settle next to each other on the couch with love in their hearts and the taste of each other on their lips to make every hard time worth the end result.

-----

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[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Fixing Bad Dreams

masterlist

summary: without even realizing, you’ve been using your powers to turn butcher’s bad dreams into good ones.

pairing: billy butcher x female supe!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, talk of sex

timeline: set after season 3

gif source

When Butcher had realized you were a Supe, obviously his first thought was that he had to kill you. But he soon realized you weren’t like the others. Not in a “oh she’s still a good person” way, but in a “wow she’s fucking weak, she’s basically still human” way. It was true. Essentially all you could do was send telepathic messages to people. That was it. (You also had a slight healing factor, but even that wasn’t very strong.) You couldn’t read minds, you couldn’t move things with your mind, you were barely a Supe.

Or, maybe he was just trying to justify sleeping with you. Whether he’d admit it or not, he really liked sleeping with you. Not just the sex, he liked physically sleeping next to you. With you. He’d sleep best when it was next to you. He wouldn’t wake up in a cold sweat, he wouldn’t have nightmares about watching his wife die bloody.

Most of the time, you woke up before him. You’d find his shirt from the night before and put it on, along with your panties if you could find them. Although, Butcher tended to rip your more delicate ones.

As you tiptoed around the room looking for where he had thrown your underwear you heard him mumble something in his sleep. You hurried next to him, his brows furrowed as he clenched the sheets in tight fists.

You held his cheek, bent down, and kissed his forehead. That always calmed him right down, you didn’t know why. And it did just that; he unclenched his fists, unfurrowed his brows, and let out a soft breath of air.

You smiled at the thought. The great William Butcher like forehead kisses in his sleep. That’s what calmed him down.

He stirred awake shortly after, seeing you looking around the room still.

“Mornin’ love,” He yawned. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Good morning,” You smiled and walked over to him, taking a seat on the bed. “You sleep okay?” You ran a hand through his hair then down his cheek, stopping to bend down and kiss him sweetly.

“Great, love,” He smiled. “Was havin’ a bit of a nightmare but it turned into us making out in the office the other day.”

“Really?” You furrowed your brows a little.

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh…no reason,” You shook your head a little.

“So, what were you looking for?” He asked, intentionally changing the subject.

“Where the hell did you throw my panties last night?” You asked, turning to glance around the room. He reached under his pillow and pulled out what you’d been looking for.

“I may have hid ‘em so you’d make me breakfast without wearin’ ‘em,” He smirked.

“All you had to do was ask,” You smiled. You leaned down and kissed him again before you stood up. “Bacon and eggs ‘ll be ready in a few minutes, come meet me in the kitchen?”

“I’ll be right there.”

**

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” Butcher chuckled a few days later. You walked up to him cooking pancakes, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Smells amazing,” You hummed. You got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

As you sat down at the table you let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, seriously, why’re you in such a good mood?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You shrugged.

“Cause the A/C stopped working halfway through the night and we both lost a good two hours of sleep?” He raised a brow.

“Remember last summer? We went to that water park with Hughie and the others after the tests came back negative and you were cancer free?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He turned to look at you fully, suddenly very interested in each word you said.

“After the A/C went out I had the best, most intense dream about it! I mean, the smell of the chlorine in the wave pool, the sound of those birds that kept trying to take your fries, everything!”

“Huh…I’ll be fuckin’ damned,” Butcher mumbled, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“What?”

“Nothin’ love, I remember that day too.”

**

Grass so green it looked fake, the sky so blue and clouds so perfect it all looked like a Bob Ross painting. Birds chirped in the trees as Butcher dipped down and kissed you again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” He smiled. He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, under your floral dress.

A picnic in the park with William Butcher. A fucking dream come true.

The cruel sound of the alarm jolted you awake. Butcher stretched his arm out and over you, hitting the snooze button.

“Perfect fucking timing,” He grumbled. “I think I was about to get lucky.”

“Me too, actually,” You laughed a little. “Guess we’ll have to make it up to each other.”

**

“Hey, let’s eat breakfast outside,” Butcher suggested.

“You hate eating outside?” You laughed a little. You took a sip of your coffee as you watched Butcher cook breakfast.

“Don’t be silly! On occasion, picnics can be fun!”

“P-Picnics?” You furrowed your brows. “What gave you that idea?”

“Just a dream I had.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Were you putting thoughts in his head? Messing with his dreams enough that it influenced his life when he was awake? How else were you messing with his head?

“Earth to Y/n!” Butcher pulled you out of your head.

“Huh?”

“I said food’s ready. Now, c’mon, get off your ass and eat outside with me.”

“Okay,” You smiled, hiding how worried you actually were.

You followed him out to the balcony overlooking the busy city.

“So what was your dream?” He asked when you both sat down at the outside table.

“Wh-What dream?” You asked.

“Remember? We both woke up to the alarm, both said we were about to get lucky in our dreams, and then we had earth-shattering morning sex. So, what was your dream?”

“I- I don’t really remember it…now all I’m thinking about is the earth-shattering morning sex,” You smirked a little.

“Ah ha!” He matched your expression, but added a sense of pride. “That’s my job, love.”

**

“Butcher, we need to talk,” You said later that night. He was ready for bed and already under the covers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows knitted with concern.

“I- I don’t think I sh-should sleep with you anymore,” You replied, tears in your eyes.

“You’re breaking up with me? Why?”

“No! I- I fucking love you and that why I need to get as far away from you as fucking possible!”

“Y/n, you’re not makin’ any sense,” He got out of bed and walked up to you. You backed away from him, shaking your head.

“I- I’ve been- I think I’ve been messing with your h-head somehow,” You let the tears fall. “Not on purpose, I swear! But I- I’ve been controlling your dreams, so who knows how else I’ve been controlling you!”

“I know about the dreams.”

“What?”

“I figured it out a couple weeks ago. You were going into detail about a dream you had the night before, and it was the same dream I had.”

“Why didn’t you say something! Butcher I could be completely controlling you! You probably don’t even really want to fucking be here! Fuck!” You put your hands on your head.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to act how you’re acting right now. I knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me your dream.”

“B-But what if…”

“What if what, Y/n? You really think you could accidentally force me to love you?” He took a few steps closer to you, this time you didn’t back away. You nodded. “Alright, how ‘bout this. Right now, try your absolute hardest to make me do something.” He put his hands on your shoulders and touched his forehead to yours. “Go on, use your powers on me.”

“I’m trying!” You exclaimed. You really were, but he was right; you weren’t nearly strong enough to mind-control someone. You let out a breath of relief. “Fuck, that would’ve been a fucking nightmare!”

“Well, good thing that’s your specialty then, love. Turning nightmares into the best fuckin’ dreams I could ask for.”

“I love you, Butcher,” You smiled and he did the same.

“I love ya, too,” He mumbled as he kissed your lips.

[wlntrsldler]

Hiiiiii!!!! I love Apple Pie by Lizzy McAlpine!! Can I get Jamie Tartt to apple pie?

apple pie | jamie tartt

based on the song apple pie by lizzy mcalpine

description: jamie gets insecure sometimes, but having you with him helps.

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (f!reader she/her)

warnings: lots of kissing, self-doubt, insecurities, mention of jamie's dad

word count: 2631

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

When Jamie first got into a relationship with you, he knew that both of your busy schedules would pose a problem down the road. With his football career seemingly reaching new peaks every season and your acting career taking off after being cast in what is being called “the film that revived the dying genre of romantic comedies,” the amount of time you get to spend with each other decreased significantly since the start of your relationship. 

You first met Jamie halfway through his returning season at AFC Richmond. You met him at a birthday dinner party for a friend of a friend where you relentlessly teased him for his ridiculous, but outstanding performance, on Lust Conquers All. You had originally praised him for it when you were fully under the impression that he was putting on an act. You didn’t find out that he was just being his prick-ish self, albeit his younger prick-ish self, until about four months into your relationship when he embarrassedly admitted it to you. That’s how you found yourself rewatching the entire season together on his couch until 2 hours before Roy knocked on his door for his training session. 

At first, Jamie thought you were making fun of him. His insecurities would still peek in here and there and sometimes he couldn’t help but worry that you’d see him as nothing more than a dumb footballer like everyone else does. He quickly realized, though, that while you were losing your mind laughing at how he acted in the show, making fun of him was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“Why’d ya wanna watch this shit anyways?” he grumbled, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. “It’s just poopy. ‘M not even like that anymore.” 

“I know,” you sat up, pausing the show when you heard his voice crack. You knew the tone of Jamie’s voice when he was cracking jokes and when he was happy, and this voice wasn’t one or the other. You turned your body to face him, “I know you aren’t like this anymore, I just thought it would be funny.” 

“I dunno, I suppose it doesn’t make much sense to me.” 

“What doesn’t?” you questioned. “Why I want to watch it?” 

“Yeah,” Jamie replied. His eyes were looking at everything but at you. He was playing with the threads of the blanket loosely draped over his legs. He rubbed his nose with his balled-up fist. “Why does it matter how I was before you? I’m better now, yeah? Unless you don’t think so...” 

“Oh, love,” you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. You were so engrossed in the episode on the TV that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable Jamie was feeling about the whole situation. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention to how you were feeling about this. We can stop watching it.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He hummed, tugging on your hoodie to pull you closer to him. “I just don’t want you to see how I used to be and realize you don’t want to be with a prick like that, even if I have changed, you know? I don’t know… I just thought that with ya, I’d have a fresh start.” 

“Jamie Tartt, enough of that now,” You took over being the big spoon, which made Jamie nuzzle into your neck contently, “You have changed. You’re an amazing man and the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. I only wanted to watch this show because it’s such a shitty show that it’s nice to just unwind. When I watch this Jamie on the screen, my brain can’t even comprehend that it’s you.” 

“You don’t think I’m a prick anymore, yeah?” Jamie asked again, hoping that he’d get a confirmation, “Like you wouldn’t leave me over that?”

You’ve learned over the past few months things about Jamie– one of which is that he needs to be told positive things or else he’d spiral. The thing is, if you could go into his mind and turn off that control box that spews self-doubt and insecurities to him, you would do it in a heartbeat. But since you can’t, you were more than happy to shower him with love and adoration in hopes that your voice can drown the rest of them out. 

“Never,” you placed your lips on his in a soft kiss. “You’d have to work a hell of a lot harder to get rid of me.” 

“I’m working double overtime just so you’d keep me, love,” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. His hand reached for the remote to turn the TV off to leave you both in the glow of the floor lamp in his living room. 

“You don’t have to work hard for that.” 

Jamie had gotten used to having you around his flat. He would leave for 4 AM training with Roy with you on his bed, often naked, then return at around 6:30 AM to shower and join you back in bed for another hour before you woke up. He’d wake up for the second time that day with you drawing patterns on his chest and a soft smile on your face. He’d lean over and place a loving kiss on your lips and he’d feel prepared to start the day. 

You were filming a show in London for three months, which meant that for three months, this was Jamie’s life. In between projects, you stayed at his place. For two weeks after the wrap party, you came home to him, visited him at the facility, and went to all the team outings, home games, and away games with him. He was with you 24/7 and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t realize how he took it for granted until filming ended.

Three weeks ago, you flew to New York City to begin filming another movie. With training and games, Jamie hasn’t been able to take time off to visit you, and with filming just starting, you couldn’t fly back to Richmond either. 

Jamie was doing fine– as fine as someone can be when their daily routine was abruptly disrupted. He was proud of you. The premise of the movie seemed perfect for you and was a seamless continuation of the romantic comedy trend you were on. People were buzzing for your next project, especially after your last one was so well received. He was so proud of you…. But he also missed you. 

During the three weeks that you were gone, you and Jamie still texted each other constantly and FaceTimed everyday, despite the crazy time difference. He wanted to make it work, and so did you, so you did what you could to stay in touch. While not being able to hold you and kiss you for three weeks was killing Jamie, he was glad he was still able to spend time with you. Things didn’t get to Jamie until Jan Maas made an off-handed comment about it.

All of them were packing up after training, feeling extremely antsy with the Man City match on the horizon, Jamie especially. There were a lot of things on his mind, including the possibility of seeing his father, who he hadn’t seen since Wembley, and playing against his old team was always a trip. In short, he wasn’t feeling his best and the fact that you weren’t nearby made it worse. 

“Jamie, we have not seen Y/N in a while,” Sam noted, “Is everything okay with you two?” 

“She’s filming a movie in New York, bruv,” Isaac replied before Jamie could speak, “Right, Tartt?” 

Jamie nodded, putting his shirt over his head, “Yeah. She’ll be gone for a few months, at least.” 

“I do not know how you’re gonna survive, Jamie,” Jan Maas said. “You are so clingy when it comes to her. I don’t think you can make it all those months.” 

The rest of the team chuckled at Jan’s teasing tone, but Jamie furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Was he clingy? He frowned as he continued to put his things away. He picked up his phone from his cubby, smiling when he received a few messages from you while he was at training. As he was about to respond, Jan’s comment made him stop in his tracks. 

Maybe it would be best to let you have a night to yourself. You had a life outside of him and you deserve to be able to live it without having him cling to you all the time. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, slipping his phone in his back pocket, before walking out of the locker room to head to his place. 

When you woke up to no text from Jamie, you assumed that he was just worn out from training and didn’t have the energy to reply. You’ve seen the intense training he went through, so you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. But as the day went on and there was still no word from Jamie– you’d even checked the timezone clock on your phone to make sure you weren’t being unreasonable– you began to worry. FaceTime calls went unanswered and instead, you were met with the Apple automated response, “Sorry, can’t talk right now.” 

To: lover boy <3

“Hi, love. Got some exciting news, you free to chat? Xx” 

By the time you were boarding the plane to Manchester, Jamie still hadn’t texted you back. After begging the producers to give you a week off filming, they finally agreed. You asked for this week in particular, knowing that you wanted to be there for Jamie for the Man City match. There was a lot on the line for Jamie and you wanted to be there for him no matter what happened. 

The entire plane ride back to England was filled with dread and anxiety. It wasn’t like Jamie to not respond. Unless he was at a game, training, or sleeping, but even then he had a special ringtone for you that wakes him up whenever you called, he always replied to your messages as soon as possible. When you landed, everything that could go wrong went wrong. Your plane was stuck on the tarmac for an hour because there were problems with the gate. Your luggage got delayed which left you sitting at baggage claim for another 45 minutes. When you finally arrived at the hotel the team was staying at– shoutout to Ted for being yours and Jamie’s number one supporter and telling you where they were staying– Jamie was nowhere to be found. 

You dragged your luggage to Jamie’s room, plopping on the bed tiredly. You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:28 PM. Ted mentioned that there was a 10 PM curfew so you hoped that tonight was not one of the nights where Jamie decided to break the rules. Ted also mentioned that Jamie has not been himself lately, which did nothing to soothe your panic. You hopped in the shower to rinse yourself from the long day you’ve had. You did your night routine and dug into Jamie’s bag to retrieve his AFC Richmond hoodie. Before putting it on, you held it up to your nose, sighing as your senses were filled with Jamie. You missed him. 

It was 9:57 PM when you heard the door unlock. You were on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on social media, when you saw him. You sat up, shutting your phone off. He walked in with his head low. His shoulders were hunched over a bit, but he looked okay. He looked better than how Ted described him. 

He kicked off his shoes, before looking at you on his bed, startled. His eyes widened, first in fear that there was someone in his room, then in surprise that it was you in his room. His lips curved down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in sadness. 

“Baby,” you whispered, moving to the side of the bed to make room for him. 

Jamie knew that he needed to not be clingy. He didn’t want to bother you too much. He was trying to be cool. But when you called him “baby,” with that voice, in his hoodie on his bed, his resolve crumbled to pieces.

He ran to you, nearly tackling you off the bed when he engulfed you in his arms. He buried his face in your neck, a mix of your lotion and the cologne he sprays on his clothes surrounding him. You cradled the back of his head, mumbling how much you missed him into his shoulder. Jamie could cry. He hasn’t seen you in so long, but here you are now. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked when he finally pulled away from you. He couldn’t stray too far though. His arm was still wrapped around you while you cuddled into his side. “I thought you were in New York.” 

“Well, if you bothered to answer my texts,” you trailed off, faking a voice of sadness. You poked his side, “You would’ve seen that I had exciting news. The producers gave me a week off after begging them since I first got to New York and this week is perfect because I know tomorrow’s match is gonna be a lot for you. I wanted to be here for you, whatever the outcome is.” 

“Oh.” Jamie was speechless. Here he was ignoring you like a prick while you were planning to come back just to be here for him. He didn’t deserve you. 

“Yeah,” you continued, “If tomorrow we celebrate, I’ll be here making sure that you drink enough water so that your hangover the next day won’t be too much. If tomorrow we try to never think about it again, I’ll sit next to you on the bus in silence holding your hand and when we get home we can do the same thing.” 

Home. You were here and he felt like he was home. 

“I missed you so much,” Jamie sighed. He kissed you all over your face, giving your lips extra attention. “‘M sorry if I was bothering you by texting and calling so much over the last few weeks… I just missed you loads and I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Baby, you didn’t text and call me enough,” you played with his hair, running your fingers through the strands. “If it was possible, I would stay on a call with you all day, everyday. Can’t get enough of ya.” 

He smiled, his worries disappearing with every word you said, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, I love you, Jamie Tartt.” You kissed him deeply. “Couldn’t get tired of you even after a million years. Now, catch me up! Tell me everything.” 

Jamie, feeling like himself again, began to tell you everything you missed over the last few weeks– meeting Sam’s father, meeting Ted’s mum, Roy and Keeley, and seeing his mum earlier that night, which is why he came home late. He talked about how a visit to Georgie and Simon helped lift his spirits, and how Georgie was gushing about you and asking him when you’ll come to visit again. 

Then he talked about his fears for tomorrow and everything that’s been piling up on him ever since you left. As he spoke, you rubbed his back comfortingly, a small reminder that you’ll always be here no matter what. 

Jamie knew that he still had a lot of work to do. He knew that his insecurities could get the best of him sometimes and it can cause him to push back on people who love and care about him, but he was trying. You believed in him and that’s all he needed.

[comphy-and-cozy]

Homecoming: Crush

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) x Mikko Rantanen

Summary: JT’s first time back in Denver after signing in Detroit was always going to be memorable, but with the help of a friend, you make it a night he'll never forget. @senditcolton's sister fic coming soon.

Word Count: 8.6K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, mild degradation, dirty talk. You know, the usual.

Masterlist

Leaving Colorado was bittersweet. Denver had been home for years; it was the city you first lived on your own, made new friends, and started your career. It was also where you met JT, fell in love with him, and watched him achieve his dreams of playing in the NHL and, ultimately, winning a Stanley Cup. But when his time wearing an Avalanche jersey came to an end, you were equally excited and hopeful for your future in Detroit. 

The part that was entirely bitter was saying goodbye to your friends that would no longer be just down the road, but instead halfway across the country. Your memories of your last few weeks in Denver were happy, but lined with tears as you bid a see you later to them all.

Meanwhile, your first few weeks in Detroit were layered with excitement of exploring a new city, meeting some of JT’s new (and old) teammates, and getting settled into your new apartment. It was fun to do it with him, turning a new city into a home, and as you grew more comfortable with the change, the people, your new life, you found yourself even more certain that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him by your side.

The date of his return to Colorado has been circled on your calendar since the season started. JT was grateful to have ample time to adjust to life in a new city, on a new team, being the ‘new guy’ for the first time in a long time, before going back to his former home and being exposed to all of the memories and feelings that Denver dredged up. But now that the date looms nearer, there’s a slight flutter of nerves and anticipation that hangs in the air. JT seems to be ignoring it, so you do, too.

So, needless to say, the last thing you expect to come out of his mouth is a proposal gauging your interest in having a threesome with one of his former teammates.

‘Surprise’ is putting it lightly, and you don’t even know where to begin with the millions of questions running through your head, so you start simple. “You’d… you’d like that?”

Heat flares in his eyes and his jaw ticks. “I can’t even begin to describe what watching you get fucked would do to me.”

The bluntness of his words causes warmth to flood through your body in an instant, a low pulse beginning to throb between your legs. You clear your throat. “Did you… have someone in mind?”

A glimmer of amusement shines in his eyes, his lips curling up ever so slightly. “Did you?”

You swallow thickly, heart ticking wildly in your throat under his knowing gaze. The weight of it makes you look away, suddenly very interested in the grain of the hardwood floor beneath your feet. You couldn’t deny the flash of blue eyes, the sound of a deep laugh that echoed through your mind when he’d posed the question…

Chewing on your lip, you try to build up the courage to speak, but the nerves stop your voice from coming out. JT steps closer to you, tilting your chin up with his finger so he can look you in the eye. 

“I’m not going to be mad,” he says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. His eyes are gentle and warm. “I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t okay with it. I want to know. Want this, if you do.”

You fidget on your feet. Something about it feels so… wrong. Taboo. But you can’t ignore the flash of excitement, the flutter of anticipation at the prospect. Sometimes it’s fun to be wrong. “Are you sure?”

A small smile plays at his mouth, and he moves his hand to interlace his fingers with yours, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. You smile back, heart warm at the tender action. But then he brings your joined hands down, pressing your palm against the very hard appendage beneath his zipper. “What do you think?”

Oh.

The twitch beneath your touch is all you need to convince you to share the name that’s resting on your tongue.

“...Mikko?” It slips out, quiet, lilted at the end as if it’s a question.

His smile is slow, flickering at the corner of his mouth before it grows into something more broad. “Should’ve known.”

Three weeks later, you find yourself standing in the middle of an ornate hotel room, with a luxurious-looking sofa, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the mountains, and sleek, modern furniture. In the center of the large bedroom is a king-sized bed with crisp white linens, so pristine you’re almost afraid to sit on it. 

JT had insisted on splurging for a room at the Four Seasons as a way to show appreciation for you flying all the way to Denver to support him; he said if he got the red carpet rolled out for him, then you deserved it, too. You suspect that your extra guest was also a factor in the room selection, like you’re a piece of high, fine art that ought to be enjoyed in a beautiful setting.

You’ve got an Avalanche jersey on, the white #37 proud on your back underneath his nameplate, an obvious claim to who you belong to. Underneath is the lingerie JT bought you special for the occasion—pretty lace encasing your body like a beautifully wrapped present. High, fine art.

Nerves course through you, the cocktail you had at the game not quite enough to protect you from the rapid pulse fluttering in your throat when a knock sounds at the door. Your boyfriend looks at you, silently gauging, confirming you’re still comfortable with the plan. Steeling yourself, you suck in a deep breath and nod.

JT smiles, pressing a kiss against your lips and offering an encouraging squeeze of your hand before moving to answer the door. As it swings open, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of Mikko standing in the hallway, hair damp from his shower. He either ditched his suit or stopped at home to change, now sporting expensive-looking black sweatpants and a hoodie. Even before he steps in the room, his figure is looming; large, broad, towering over your boyfriend, who is already significantly taller than you.

The Finn greets JT first, a grin blooming on his face as he claps his hand and leans in for a hug. “Sorry about the game, brother.”

With a wave of his hand, JT brushes it off. The Red Wings had lost 7-2, and although you know it’d have been much sweeter to win, he says, “Just glad to be back. Feels weird being here.”

“Feels weird that you’re here as a visitor,” Mikko comments, wrinkling his nose at the sentiment. JT nods in agreement, no further statement needed. 

Russet eyes flick to yours, and you watch the smile curl up on his face. “Since you’re hosting, I brought you a gift this time.”

You feel Mikko’s gaze shift to you, and you’re patient in the way your eyes blink over to him, offering a small smile. “Hi, Mikko. It’s good to see you.”

A glimmer of heat flares in his eyes. “It’s good to see you too.”

JT stifles a chuckle. Crossing the room, you go to hug Mikko, warmth coursing through your body when his arms wrap around you. All at once, the sheer size of him hits you, and you feel the way your pussy practically purrs for it.

You pull away, and the tension in the room turns thick, almost tangible, when you look into his eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you pray that he can’t hear the thud of it the way you can. 

“You sure you want this?” Mikko murmurs, hand raising like he wants to caress your face, but he stops himself to make sure you’re really good.

“Always had a crush on you,” you whisper with a smile. You’re not confident in the strength of your voice. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and the glitter returns to his eyes as he steps in closer to you. His lips are inches away from yours, your breath frozen in your lungs. “Oh yeah?”

JT’s amused huff behind you offers a gentle encouragement and a surge of confidence washes over you as you let your eyes trail over Mikko’s large frame, over his broad shoulders, his defined chest, the thick thighs that you know could easily crush you. For a moment, you let yourself think all of the filthy, carnal thoughts that have flashed through your mind every time you see him. “Couldn’t help it. You’re so… big.”

His smirk widens, smug and dripping with an air of cocky confidence. It’s always been just a part of life, his intimidating size, but the way you’re devouring him with your heated gaze has him appreciating it in an entirely different light. 

“Baby, you’re drooling and no one’s even taken their clothes off yet,” JT says with a chuckle, and his words have you imagining exactly what Mikko might look like when he does, in fact, remove his clothes. Or maybe he’ll let you do that for him.

“Can you blame me?” you ask.

Mikko’s eyes roam too, lingering over the logo on your chest, though you have a feeling he’s imagining what it’ll look like without the jersey covering your body. 

“I always had a thing for you, too,” he confesses at last. “Always told Comph he had the hottest girl.”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and your eyes flick to JT’s in surprise. How come he’d never told you? 

“Couldn’t have you running off to be with Mikko. Wanted to have you all to myself,” your boyfriend admits with a smile. “He’s less of a threat now that we’re in different cities.”

At his words, Mikko grins before leaning in to kiss you, almost like he was waiting for a silent permission from JT to touch you; he hovers mere inches away from your face, giving you the choice to change your mind or close the gap. 

It’s a no brainer to meet his mouth with yours. His lips are warm, soft, his fingers sliding into your hair, and you can’t help but sink into him. Your own find purchase on his biceps, strong and huge beneath your fingertips, your knees wobbling slightly when his tongue slips into your mouth.

Kissing Mikko is easy. It’s no wonder JT was cautious. 

Mikko’s hands begin an adventure roaming your back, warming you up to his touch, before he’s reaching behind you to cup your ass with a firm grip. JT’s breathing is ragged, but you can’t tear yourself away from Mikko’s lips to glance at him. It’s only when he pulls away for air that you look at your boyfriend, wings beating in your belly when you see his flushed cheeks and dark eyes. There’s an obvious tent in his pants; you resist the urge to tease him. 

“Comph told me about how good you are with your mouth,” Mikko says, voice husky, like he feels exactly how JT looks. He drags a thumb along your bottom lip, and you let the tip of it dip just past the seam of your mouth. Beside you, JT groans, and the sound encourages you as you slowly slink to your knees in front of Mikko.

“Do you want to see for yourself?”

He sucks in a breath, watching when you reach up to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants. Already, he’s hard, and you can’t help but wrap your hand around him—or, try to—over his boxer briefs. He’s firm and warm beneath your hand, and your pussy throbs when you imagine what he’ll feel like inside of you.

You help Mikko divest himself of his pants, kicked to the side while JT takes a seat in the armchair beside you. A glance at him, melting under his smoldering gaze before you’re leaning forward to press your lips against the firm muscle of his quad. He hums, then stifles a chuckle when your teeth bite into his skin gently. 

If you could, you’d spend an hour marking up his thighs, but your attention is drawn back to the erection bobbing above you. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you see the smirk grow on Mikko’s face before you take his tip into your mouth. He curses when your tongue laps at the beaded liquid at the tip, slowly allowing more of his length to slip into your mouth. 

“Fuck, JT wasn’t lying about your mouth, sweetheart,” he groans. JT hums, pleased at the assessment. Part of you wonders exactly what he’d shared with Mikko—and if he’d ever shared with anyone else.

You work Mikko’s cock between your lips, bobbing your head over him with wet, sloppy movements. His hands clench at his sides, an effort to keep from burying them in your hair and fucking your face. Not that you’d mind.

“C’mon, baby, show him how good your throat is,” comes JT’s low murmur of encouragement. “Y’look so pretty when your face is stuffed with cock.”

Inching forward, you take more of him, bit by bit, until he’s brushing at the back of your throat. His hips strain with the effort of resisting bucking into your mouth, mumbling what you presume to be curses in Finnish.

Obediently, you blink up at Mikko to let him know you approve of the way his hips slowly press forward, the head of his dick slipping further down your throat. Your eyes water, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as he pulses ever so slightly in and out of your mouth.

Quiet curses sound from both men, eyes glued to the way your lips look wrapped around Mikko’s considerable length. You feel another flutter between your thighs, the feeling encouraging the slow stroke of your tongue on the underside of his length. Thick fingers caress your hairline, tucking a handful of it behind your shoulders and out of the way.

“That’s it,” Mikko groans, the low rumble of approval deep in his chest before his head tilts back. “Her mouth—so fucking good, Comph.”

Though he’s talking to your boyfriend, your heart flutters with the praise, and you become determined to hear more of it, to pull more of it from his throat alongside the guttural groans. A deep breath precedes the slackening of your jaw, opening wider to accept him until your lips nestle in the trimmed curls at the base of Mikko’s pelvis. Distantly, you wonder if he landscaped just for you.

“Vitun iso,” Mikko exclaims, pulling himself out of your mouth quickly. The action earns a splutter from you, a gush of saliva and precum spilling out of your mouth at the sudden absence. “You’re gonna make me come and I haven’t even gotten to fuck you yet.”

Coyly, you look up at him, as if you hadn’t been sucking his lights out moments prior. “I like it when you speak Finnish.”

Flames lick in his eyes and he smiles down at you. You lick your lips, a weak attempt at tidying up what you know is a disheveled appearance. But instead of stopping, you lean forward and let your lips press against Mikko’s balls, letting your tongue flatten as it glides along them. He stutters, and so does JT, Mikko’s hands flying back into your hair. 

“Perkele—no, no, baby, y’gotta stop ‘cause I really wanna fuck you.”

Though it takes everything in you to stop, you do, tearing yourself away from his length. Your gaze trails over it, hard and wet and huge, and you lick your lips when you once again envision what it’ll feel like pressing into your wanton, waiting core. Mikko notices, observes the hungry way you watch him, a devilish smirk forming on his face.

“C’mere,” JT murmurs, hand gently nudging at your shoulder as he offers a hand to help you stand. His expression is warm as he looks at you, admiring the sheen on your swollen lips, the watery line of your eyes, gently wiping away a stray tear with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you softly. A tender, sweet moment, a brief check-in without words, silently confirming that you’re good to keep going. 

You’re more than good.

Toying with the hem of your jersey, knuckles caressing the skin of your thigh, JT holds your gaze before he pulls the fabric over your head. Beside you, Mikko groans in approval at the ensemble you’ve hidden beneath the jersey; ivory lace, wrapped around your hips, encasing your breasts, satin straps over your shoulders. Wrapped up like a pretty package.

JT takes a moment to admire you, gaze trailing over the lace and your curves. He casts a glance at Mikko and offers a wink. Like what I’ve done with her?

With an outstretched hand, he guides you to the bed, seating himself against the pillows and motioning for you to sit between his legs. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him brushing your hair back, scratching lightly against your scalp as you settle in against his solid frame.

JT’s hands wrap around your body, moving over your breasts, kneading them until your mouth falls open in a sigh. They tickle you slightly as they caress down your sides, firm and steady, tracing over your waist and the lace adorning your hip bones. When they reach the apex of your thighs, you feel a flutter where his fingers ghost over your pelvis, teasing you. A glance at Mikko shows that his attention is focused solely on your center, following JT’s movements the way he’d track a puck.

The breath that Mikko sucks in is audible when your boyfriend parts your thighs, spreading you open like your legs are curtains at an upscale Broadway theater. You watch the way his eyes darken, drinking in the sight of you on display for him. Act I, Scene I.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” your boyfriend’s low voice asks, amused by the trance that his friend seems to be under. 

All Mikko does is nod, unwilling to take his eyes off of your body for a single second. “Beautiful.”

“You want to taste?”

At the question, Mikko’s blues shoot up to meet JT’s. Can I? Next, they flick to yours, seeking permission. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you; instead, you let your hand draw between your legs, finger tucking into the fabric before you tug it to the side. It’s consent, permission, and a silent request all at once.

The weight of Mikko’s large body dips into the mattress when he crawls his way toward you. Your heart thuds in your chest as he nears, and you swear you can feel JT’s heart beating just as rapidly against your back. When the Finn reaches you, he wastes no time being shy as his hand reaches for the back of your neck, pulling you toward him to press a heated, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. He devours you, groaning into your mouth while JT’s hands drag along the back straps of your bra, unhooking it. 

Slowly, the straps slide down your arms, and as if he can sense more of your bare skin revealed, Mikko pulls away to admire the sight of your bare shoulders and collarbones. His eyes glitter, though you notice the way his eyes linger on the lace that still covers your breasts, like he’s willing the material to disappear. 

JT anticipates Mikko’s next move and his hands slip around to your front, letting his finger hook into one of the cups before dragging it down. Your breasts fall free, and Mikko stifles a groan, his lip disappearing between his teeth as he takes in the sight of you topless.

“Been thinking ‘bout these tits for a long time,” he murmurs, and you shiver at the statement. Your nipples peak under his gaze. “Ever since I accidentally saw that picture on Comph’s phone.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Pardon me?”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t send a warning before you sent a nude,” JT says in self defense, fighting a chuckle. He falters when he sees Mikko’s large hand cupping your breast—and you’d be lying if you heard a single word that came out of his mouth once Mikko’s warm palm pressed against your skin. His fingers knead the soft tissue, acclimating himself with the feel and size of your breasts; a moan slips out when he lightly pinches your nipple.

“Maybe it was on purpose,” Mikko muses, the glint in his eye passing so quickly you think you must have imagined it. “Maybe she wanted someone to see it.”

JT hums. You glance over your shoulder to ensure that his low groan is one of pleasure and not jealousy or unease, worried the sentiment will upset him. But your eyes catch his, and you see the lust that’s grown in them. At the thought of you seducing his teammate. At the thought of Mikko craving you. His girl. 

The knowledge that you are something that others covet, someone that his friends desire, and yet you crawl into his bed every night is… priceless. He doesn’t try to fight his smile. “That true, sweetheart?” 

“Why else would she send it with no warning?” Head cocked, and a smirk plastered on his face, Mikko adds, “You wanted to show off this gorgeous body, hm? Make everybody jealous of Comphy?”

Your cheeks heat. You had no way of knowing that JT was anywhere near his teammates when you’d sent photos, but you find that you really like the thought of wandering eyes, of someone—Mikko—seeing something private, meant for JT. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Mikko’s heated gaze floats down your frame, to the lace that’s still wrapped around your hips. Watching his eyes trail lower, you wonder if the dampness you feel there is visible. His hand tickles your stomach on its route down to your panties, where the tip of his middle finger runs along the hem, still pulled to the side exposing you. JT’s breathing is practically ragged beside you, both of you watching the way Mikko toys with your entrance. You can’t help but notice how huge his hand looks between your thighs. His fingers are so thick, one or two of them have got to be equivalent to his—

“Who’d you want to see it, baby?” JT probes with his words the same way Mikko’s fingers press gently against your slit. Just teasing, not giving you any relief. 

Your boyfriend’s thumb caresses against the underside of your breast, a breath of a touch that’s just enough to drive you crazy. And with a request like that, you have no choice but to obey. “Him.”

“Tell him, darling.”

“Y-you, Mikko,” your voice falters, cheeks warm as Mikko allows the very tip of his finger to dip inside of you. You’re not sure if the heat is from your confession or from arousal; you’re pretty sure it’s both. 

“Me?” he asks with a low chuckle, as if he’s even trying to pretend he didn’t already know the answer. “Comph, your girl’s a little minx.”

JT’s fingers slither across your skin, slowly kneading and massaging your breast beneath a strong hand, sending a wave of goosebumps down your arms. Lips brush against the tender spot of your shoulder blade, grazing along your skin before pressing a kiss against the crook of your neck and shoulder. His voice is low, so sensual it makes you shiver. “He’s right, sweetheart. You are the most lovely, tempting mistress.”

The butterflies that flutter in your chest threaten to erupt, and Mikko presses his thumb against your throbbing clit as if in agreement. A zing of pleasure shoots through your system and your head falls back against JT’s shoulder, who nuzzles with the side of your face. His thick beard scratches against your jaw. “You gonna let him taste you now?”

A nod is all you can muster, followed by a whine that you hope Mikko accepts as a plea. Luck is on your side, it seems, when he doesn’t drag out your torment any longer, hooking his fingers into the waistband of the lace around your hips and tugging the fabric down your legs. Pulling your thighs apart with painstaking slowness, you watch him make eye contact with JT. An evil smirk curls up on his face before he focuses his gaze back on your center.

He murmurs something in Finnish, tongue darting out to wet his lips. They press gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs, soft and slow, relishing the delicious tension. When he finally reaches your center, his tongue takes a long swipe up, collecting your arousal. The heat of his mouth makes you sigh dreamily.

“Fuck,” Mikko groans, “you taste even better than I imagined.”

“Told you,” JT says, then turns his attention to you. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, thick beard tickling the skin while his nose nudges against your hair. “You have the sweetest, tightest, most delicious pussy, baby. I know it, and so does he. Can’t believe it’s all mine to taste and touch and fuck whenever I want.”

Heat blooms in your stomach, blossoming through your veins. The praise, dripping like honey from your boyfriend’s pretty mouth, makes your head spin with desire. Mikko hums from between your legs, enjoying your dripping honey, while JT takes one of your pert nipples between his fingers, rolling gently. He groans behind you, adding on to his commentary, “Pretty, perfect tits, too.”

You preen under his compliment, but your attention snaps back to Mikko when his tongue begins to move, swirling around your lips and slipping inside of you. He explores, familiarizing himself with your pussy, testing out different moves to see how you respond. He licks, sucks, kisses you, tasting your nectar and before long, he’s devouring your forbidden fruit like a starved man. 

Mikko’s curls bob above your pelvis, his blue eyes locked on yours while his tongue wraps around your clit. You cry out, head tossed back against JT’s shoulder, one of his hands sliding up your stomach to knead at your breast. The feeling, paired with Mikko’s mouth on your pussy, licking and delving inside your folds, sends heat coursing through your body.

When your spine curves, your lower back presses against something firm, and your boyfriend hums in your ear. “Feel that? That’s what all your pretty little sounds do to me.”

The gentle pulse of him against your tailbone has a moan slipping from your mouth, encouraging Mikko to keep the rhythmic flicks of his tongue against your entrance. Your hand slides into his curls as his own dig tightly into the sides of your hips, holding you in place. 

“C’mon, baby,” JT whispers, so low that even Mikko probably can’t hear him. “You gonna come for me? Wanna watch you gush all over that handsome face.”

“Mikko,” you sigh, the plea clear in the way you say his name, because you want that, too. Desperately. Your partner takes it as a command, accepting it as an oath, trying his hardest to completely bury his tongue inside of you.

“That’s it,” JT murmurs when your hips rise to meet Mikko’s mouth, rolling against his face and seeking your high. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, keeping his face pressed tightly against you, committed to his silent promise. You’re not positive, but you’re pretty sure that the muffled hum against your pussy is his encouragement too.

Not only is the climax one of the most anticipated orgasms of all time, but it’s also one of the best you’ve ever experienced. White hot heat blazes through your system, pleasure radiating to each cell as Mikko’s lips coax out every last bit of ecstasy from your body. Vision fuzzy, you register the gentle roll of your hips while the remaining waves of your orgasm subside. 

“I like the way you hump his face when you come.” Your boyfriend’s voice is the beacon that pulls you back to reality, oozing with arousal and amusement. 

Mikko pulls away to nod in agreement. The scruff littering his jaw is coated in your slick, and he grins at you, the sheen on his lips beautiful enough to have you pulling him toward you to kiss him, tasting yourself. His voice is low, molten, and it makes you throb despite just having an orgasm on his face. “Your pussy is so perfect, murunen.”

“You wanna fuck it now?” you ask, looking up at him with a smug smile.

“Do you want me to fuck it now?” he poses back, an eyebrow raised.

You nod so earnestly that JT chuckles beside you, and Mikko leans forward to capture your lips once again, his kiss scorching. The slow moan that slips out is a surprise to you, all control over it lost as heat winds back through your body. A wanton whine follows when he tears his lips from yours, crying out at the loss of him against your skin.

“M’not sure you’re ready for me to fuck you, baby,” he says with a smirk. 

“Trust me,” you purr, catching his hand in yours and drawing it to your center. He growls when you plunge the tip of his middle finger inside of yourself, the sound nearly covering your gasp. “I’m ready.”

JT groans loudly watching you grip Mikko’s wrist, guiding his hand to dip in and out of your pussy. “Fuuuuck. That’s it, baby, fuck yourself with his fingers.”

The Finn chuckles deeply. “She liked that, Comph. She just squeezed me so fuckin’ tight.”

“Yeah?” JT says with a smirk. His voice is a low whisper in your ear. “Why don’t you get yourself ready to take his cock?”

At his command, you slide Mikko’s finger in and out of you, urging him to add a second, a gasp rumbling out when he curls the digits inside of your heat. You’re in awe that just two of his fingers stretch you out so deliciously, slipping in and out of you with wet, squelching sounds. His eyes hold firm with yours, letting your hand guide his wrist, head leaning back at the pleasure his fingers shoot through your body. Your hand moves his wrist faster, your moans lilting higher.

The feeling is heavenly, but it’s not enough. You need more. 

Mikko is on the same page when he takes control of his hand back, ceasing his movements. Pressing his fingers past your lips, he earns your complete attention even as JT shifts out from behind you to kneel beside you on the bed. Your essence is tangy on your tongue, the pad of Mikko’s middle and index finger gently massaging it; your lips wrap around his digits and suck obediently, mimicking the exact way you sucked his dick earlier. With a smirk, Mikko pulls his hand away and you swallow thickly before turning your attention to the redhead next to you.

“J,” you whisper, glancing at the bulge that was just throbbing against your back. “Let me take care of that.”

Your boyfriend smiles, a glimmer of affection in his brown eyes before he reaches down to palm himself. But to your surprise, he shakes his head. “Nah, baby, I’m okay. Jus’ wanna watch for now.”

“Are… you sure?” you ask, another glance at his erection. Mikko’s still there, his own erection standing proudly, silently tempting you with a primal promise of ecstasy, but for the moment, you’re more concerned about ensuring your partner is as satisfied and willing as you are for this to continue.

JT tips your chin up with the crook of his finger, closing the gap between your lips. It’s soft and sweet, and maybe a tiny bit of a pageant display for his friend, who stands watching the two of you closely. “Remember how badly I want to watch you get fucked?”

Heat blooms in your cheeks—and between your legs—when you see the fire in his eyes, pupils blown. Your teeth dig into your lip, taking a shaky breath before you glance back at Mikko, a silent nod to let him know you’re good to continue. He returns the action, tugging off his shirt until he stands before you, a fucking Greek god statue—only instead of carefully sculpted marble, he’s lithe limbs, rippling muscles, warm flesh that you can feel, taste, touch. 

You can’t help but gape at him. You’ve been treated like the piece of art tonight, but he is the true masterpiece. 

Large hands grasp at your hips, tugging you toward the edge of the bed, until your core is mere inches from his own pelvis. Your eyes are locked on his hand: wrapped tightly around his length, stroking himself smoothly, the muscle of his bicep jumping deliciously at the movement. Your mouth waters. So does your pussy.

“You want it?” he asks, dimple peeking out beside his smirk. His eyes stay on yours even while he continues rubbing the tip of his dick against your entrance, bumping steadily into your clit. It sends a jolt of pleasure through your veins, and your hips buck toward him. “Aw, come on, tell me.”

“Mikko,” you whine, “please.”

“Tell him what you want, honey.” JT’s command is gentle, but firm. 

Your eyes trail up the cut lines of Mikko’s wide frame, admiring the sheer size of him—ignoring the wanton throb of your pussy at the size of his cock, positioned right at your entrance—and look into his baby blues. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you let your legs fall open a little more, spreading yourself wide. You don’t miss the way his eyes flick to the center of your thighs, feasting on the view of you, open and wet and waiting. It earns another pulse deep in your core.

“Fuck me, please, Mikko. Been wanting this for so long. Need you so bad.”

A dimpled smirk meets your desperate gaze, and JT looses out a heavy sigh as he watches your pussy greedily swallow Mikko’s dick inch by inch. He’s impossibly huge, stretching you so wide you can’t help the way your eyes roll back at the sensation. 

“Shit,” he barks out, accent strong. “Your cunt is pretty and tight, baby.”

With a moan, you let your heels dig into the flesh of his ass, encouraging him to move further—though you’re not sure there’s any room left with how much of him there is. He chuckles low, a rumble deep in his broad chest, leaning forward to bracket his arms around your head as he starts a slow, steady pace. Mikko’s lips press against yours, drinking in your soft whimpers while your arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching onto him.

Exploring lips make their way down your jaw and to your neck, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. Lowly, he murmurs strings of Finnish in your ear, the sound stoking the flame inside of you. Each press of his hips drives more and more pleasure through your veins, already laughably close to your peak. Your heart thuds in your throat, your breasts pressed against his chest while he sucks a mark into your skin. A mark, like so many left before in its wake, but a first in the shape of Mikko’s teeth.

The sound of JT groaning has your eyes fluttering open, glancing over at him beside you on the bed; you’d almost forgotten he was there, the feeling of Mikko inside you pulling all thought from your mind. JT’s shed his shirt, his pants unzipped and hand fisting at his length. His eyes are on your body, on the mark on your neck, but then they flick to yours and he winks.

You’ve seen it before, your boyfriend stroking himself before he slides into you, but you’ve never seen him like this—wanton, desperate, jerking himself off to the sight of you. It sends heat coursing through your body, an adrenaline that you didn’t expect. To know that he’s turned on, fueled by the sight of you with another man. 

And not just any man—his teammate. His friend. His brother.

Jealous, Mikko nips at your neck to bring your focus back to him. He pulls away, holding you with nothing but his steady gaze, the blues of his eyes locked with yours, his hips moving steadily to continue driving his length into you. It’s intense, intimate, unwavering. Each thrust forward sends you further into blissful oblivion. 

When Mikko rises to his full height, he tugs your hips harder so he can continue pounding into you at his relentless pace. Your body slides against the formerly pristine sheets, now wrinkled underneath your romp with a large Finn. His hands slide up your arms, interlacing your fingers together before pinning them above your head. A smirk rises on his face when your back arches into him, the only way you can press more of your skin against his, desperate for his heat.

JT’s voice is a gentle purr. “You like that, sweetheart? Can hear how fucking wet you are. Makin’ a mess all over his cock, aren’t you?” His attention turns to the Finn. “Aren’t I the luckiest man in the world, Rants? Coming home to that pussy every night?”

Mikko nods in agreement, eyes glued to the way you’re wrapped around his length, snug and wet and warm. “Dunno how you get anything done with her in your bed. Tightest cunt.”

JT’s smile is greedy, like a cheshire cat, and he brushes the hair out of your face with an affectionate hand. “She’s definitely a tempting little vixen.”

His thumb strokes a soothing caress on your jawline, and you can’t help it when you twist your head just slightly to take it between your lips, looking up at him with wide, unfocused eyes. Mikko curses, his thrusts faltering as he watches you suck on your boyfriend’s digit obediently. “Fuck. Such a good girl.”

“You are,” JT murmurs, admiring the way your tongue flicks at the pad of his finger. You release it, beaming proudly. “My beautiful, perfect, good girl. Takin’ his big dick like that.”

Mikko’s hands grip tighter on your waist, his thumbs nearly touching with how large they are wrapped around your sides, like he’s silently commanding you to pay attention to him. His eyes connect with yours, the soft blues a deeper shade as he drives home. The only sounds in the room are that of your moans and hips slapping against the underside of your thighs. He’s impossibly deep, stroking inside your guts, touching places that no one has ever reached before. It’s sinful and wicked and you want more. 

“Mikko,” you sigh, fingers slipping into his disheveled curls, “d-don’t stop.”

JT takes your lilted whine as a call to action, nudging at your chin gently to tilt your face toward him. He doesn’t have to say anything, just dances his marriage and middle fingers across your lips before you take them obediently in your mouth.

He hums, pressing his fingers farther in, feeling the way your tongue lolls against them. “Nice and wet, darlin’. That’s it.”

You gasp when he pulls them out, a gossamer strand of saliva connecting your wet lips with his fingers. He doesn’t waste any time before he reaches between yours and Mikko’s bodies, pressing both fingers against your clit. JT’s rhythm is slow, intentional, patient, pulsing at half the tempo of Mikko’s hips; he listens to the sounds of skin on skin, the slick of your pretty pussy getting fucked, and your gorgeous pornstar moans—and, more importantly, the silence when your breath catches in your throat.

You’re close.

JT presses harder, rubbing with more speed, Mikko’s hips following suit like following a leader. Your mouth falls open, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as you stutter a cry and your orgasm rips through you. Mikko’s thrusts remain constant, milking out the waves of your climax until your legs are trembling around his waist. Weakly, your arm raises to knock JT’s hand away, the pressure from his fingers overstimulating.

Your second orgasm, it seems, is enough to have JT shucking off the remainder of his disheveled clothes, laying on his back on the mattress and beckoning for you with a finger. It’s on shaky legs that you approach him, savoring the feel of his fingertips brushing against your thigh. “Come sit on my face, sweetheart. Wanna taste what he did to you.”

Not five seconds after you’ve agreed with a nod, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist to haul you over his head, and you shriek with delighted surprise. Mikko chuckles beside you, the sound quickly turning into more of a growl when he watches you settle onto your boyfriend’s face. Auburn hair and a small peek of his forehead are the only things that reveal his identity, his nose wedged up against your clit.

JT hums, tongue lapping up cautiously at your entrance, testing if the action overstimulates you. It doesn’t, instead earning an indulgent sigh from you, and he wastes no time in diving between your folds with his tongue. The feeling is different, more familiar than Mikko, who’s taken a seat at the edge of the mattress, content to watch for now.

“You taste so good after you’ve been fucked,” comes JT’s muffled voice from between your thighs. The gentle vibration against your core sends a shiver down your spine, his words earning a fresh ooze onto his lips. “So fucking wet, baby. So hot.”

JT’s hands grip at the globes of your ass, keeping you pressed against him as his tongue delves into your folds, feasting on exactly what Mikko did to you. What he finds, he must like, for his pleasured groan is both audible and felt vibrating between your legs. He’s diligent in the way he flicks at your clit, lapping up your arousal. 

You lose track of time as your boyfriend eats his way to your heart, relishing in the way his tongue works magic on your pussy. Over the years, he’s dedicated hours of his time to learning what makes you sigh, studying what gets your hips to move against him, memorizing what makes you drip nectar onto his tongue. Beside you, Mikko strokes himself leisurely, watching intently, like he’s studying tape of an upcoming opponent. 

JT nudges you with his hands, coming up for air. His thick, russet beard is drenched in you; the sight makes your walls clench. “Think m’gonna take you up on your offer,” he says, gently encouraging you to slide off of his face. “Wanna be inside this delicious little cunt.”

The body part in question flutters with anticipation, greedy for more despite having been filled to the brim not long ago. You follow the motion of JT’s hand to sling a leg over his hips. His erection, bobbing patiently above his stomach, leaks into a small pool of precum in the dark auburn hair above his belly button. 

JT shifts, sitting up to meet your lips. The world around you floats away underneath the spell of his kiss; for a moment, you’re all alone. His caress brings you back to reality, one hand on your waist, the other on your neck, holding your jaw.

“Ride me,” he whispers against your mouth, helping you to shift your hips upward so that he can line his tip up with your entrance. With an open-mouthed sigh against his lips, you sink down onto him.

Swallowing his groan, the two of you move in sync to find a rhythm that’s slow and steady; it’s intimate, your thighs wrapped around his waist and your bodies pressed against one another. Nearly every inch of your body is touching him, connected to him—and your new partner loves it.

“You look good riding his dick like that, murunen,” Mikko says, watching the way your hips roll leisurely circles atop his friend’s lap. “Can’t believe he kept you to himself all this time.”

“Can you blame me?” your redhead asks, tearing his lips away from yours to look at his friend. You follow suit, surprised at the hunger in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you, hips circling in hypnotizing motions. You quell the urge to shiver under his watchful gaze. “You’d do the same damn thing, if you were me.”

“Can’t deny that,” Mikko agrees with a grin, then cocks his head toward you. “Probably wouldn’t ever let you leave my bed.”

“Who says I’m going to let you leave mine?” 

Mikko’s brows raise in surprise, then a smile cracks over his face as he laughs. His smile falters when JT’s lips dutifully return to your neck, tongue soothing the sensitive skin. Your redhead’s skin is hot against yours, creating a twin mark beside the one that Mikko left.

“Darlin’,” JT husks against your collarbone. “You ready for Mikko to fuck you again?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and simultaneously, a disappointed whimper leaves your throat. “Was gonna come on your dick. Want to.”

The soft exhale of JT’s laugh caresses your skin. You can feel the curve of his smile against your neck as his hand stills the movement of your hips. His voice is sympathetic as he purrs, “I know, baby. But I get to feel this tight pussy grippin’ me every night; Mikko doesn’t. Wanna be a good host, don’t you?”

His words, his confidence make your heart swell—and your pussy clench. Talk about big dick energy. Another chuckle breathes against your collarbone, and you know he felt it. He knows how much it turns you on, how much you love being Mikko’s party favor. The sensation is nearly overwhelming.

“How generous of you,” Mikko says. “I would’ve kept that orgasm all to myself.”

Your body is weak, mind a little hazy as four hands help to maneuver you off of JT’s body and onto your hands and knees. Resting your head against your forearms, you smile up to your boyfriend while Mikko’s tip teases your center.

“Mikko, please,” you whine. Your voice is wanton, pussy humming with the ache of an almost-release. “Fuck me. Need it.”

“She gets a little cockdrunk at this point,” JT explains, a loving sort of pride etched onto his face, “after a few orgasms. So pretty and obedient.”

You let your waist sway, hoping to goad Mikko into plunging his length into you. He tsks, sliding his shaft against your clit as if to reprimand you, instead eliciting a moan from you. The sensation isn’t nearly enough; you need to feel him buried inside of you.

JT hums, his voice dripping with amusement and approval. “I love when you’re desperate. You get so slutty.”

“Please,” you whine again, sighing when your greedy pussy gives another heavy throb, desperate for another orgasm. You can’t find the energy in you to plead, wouldn’t be able to find the words for how bad you want him even if you tried, so it’ll have to do. 

Mikko’s merciful, granting you a sinful relief when he slips back inside of you. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, trying your best to stay upright despite how heavenly he feels, filling you up to the hilt. He finds his rhythm, rougher than before, his hips slapping against your ass. Distantly, you wonder if his resolve is slipping.

“Fuck, dude, how do you handle all this ass?”

A smile drifts its way onto your face, feeling the heat from Mikko’s gaze. His hands roam freely over the curve of your ass, over your hips, up your spine, all while he rearranges your guts. The tip of his finger trails over the ridges of your spine until it finally lands between the globes of your ass. He muses, “Now what’s this?”

JT’s chuckle is low. Evil, even.

“May I?” Mikko’s question makes your skin thrum with heat. His finger drags along your backside, the touch featherlight. It’s teasing, torturous, sinful, contrasting with the rough, deep thrusts of his cock into you.

The pad of his finger rests against your puckered hole, applying just enough pressure for you to feel it and moan. Only two words exist in your mind, void of all other thought.

“Mikko, please.”

“Filthy girl,” JT chimes in. The designation makes you shiver.

Mikko’s hips maintain their relentless rhythm, his tip striking at the most delicious angle to have you seeing stars. Your third orgasm lingers, body aching for one more release, greedily accepting his assault on your pussy. When the tip of his finger presses past the resistance of your hole, a guttural moan slips out of your throat. The sensation earns a deep throb of your clit, swollen and needy; one hand leaves its post on the bed to frantically paw at it. 

A low exhale sounds from Mikko behind you, and you can tell by his ragged breath that he’s approaching his climax as well. His finger presses deeper inside of you and on his next thrust, your world shatters. Weakly, your walls convulse around his length, the force of your release sucking the air out of your lungs. 

Through the haze, you hear JT’s voice followed by a deeper one—Mikko’s—before gentle hands stroke the hair out of your face. You’re aware of a feeling of emptiness, soon registering that Mikko is no longer sheathed inside you, but kneeling beside you. 

When your eyes open, it’s his blue ones that you see first. Smiling down at you, he says, “Hi, kultsi. How you doing?”

“Good,” you manage to say. After sitting up, your eyes are drawn to his erection, glistening with you. Next to him, JT’s length also bobs between his legs, and your mouth waters at the prospect.

Your gaze floats between both of them as you move off the bed and sink to your knees. They follow in unison, in sync with you and one another, coming to stand side by side before you. The sight is intimidating, truly: gazing up at two very strong, very muscular men, their erections hovering above you. 

Licking your lips, you press forward to lick at Mikko’s length, eager to taste yourself on him. JT waits patiently, watching the way your lips work down Mikko’s shaft. Your cheeks hollow, tongue swirling on the underside of him. 

A hand gently threads its way into your hair, gently guiding you off of Mikko’s cock and toward JT’s. You blink up at him, his brown eyes warm as they watch you. Etched on his face is an expression of pride, and you respond to it by dragging your tongue up his length. He groans, stroking your cheek with his thumb while you press kisses up to his tip, lapping at it before taking it between your lips. 

It’s not long before Mikko’s hand comes to the other side of your head, drawing you back toward him. Their pace quickens as they chauffeur you from cock to cock, cheeks growing more flushed as they work themselves up to their climax. Mikko’s loud groan fills the room first, warm splatters landing on your face with his climax. Salty droplets dribble toward your lips and you can’t help but lick them off before turning to smile at JT. 

The sight of you covered in his friend’s cum, marked by it, must be what spurs his own release, contributing to Mikko’s original artwork. Your tongue sticks out to catch him, earning a low groan from both of them as you swallow it. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” JT says with a bemused smile. “You know that?”

“Welcome back to Denver, baby.”

Author's Note: Happy New Year! Here at comphy-and-cozy, we're kicking 2025 off with a bang. It's been a long time coming (no, literally, this fic is a year late, but what's new?). Y'all know this is basically my dream threesome with a very C-esque angle. I had a blast working on this project with my friend and one of my favorite writers, Nicole! I hope you all enjoy the dual perspective of this series. 😜

Finnish translations (from Reddit and Google): vitun iso = fucking good perkele = shit murunen = little crumb (affectionate pet name, akin to 'sweet little thing') kultsi = honey or babe

SIMILAR CONTENT

The After Party* The After Party II* A Night in Paris*

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 24

An: This is it!

Word count: 2134

Warnings: none :)

The curtains in my living room window look different than I remember them last. Like someone moved them ever so slightly to see a better angle of my driveway. I sit here now, the car in park, but still humming with life because half of me believes if I turn it off now, I’ll foreshadow my own death.

The other half of me considers the advice from an online therapy forum I read a few weeks ago. Advice I doubt is from a real medical professional or has been proven to be true. Advice that should be prescribed in person and by a real therapist: The chances of a “once in a lifetime” event happening more than once in your life are so slim it isn’t worth worrying about it happening again.

Sometimes it’s enough to ease my mind, but not tonight.

However, with a deep breath and a certain heaviness settling on my shoulders, I twist the fob and observe the silence that falls over the car as the radio shuts off and the cool air vanishes.

By all means it’s a beautiful evening. The sun is setting and a sweet floral breeze brushes the hair off my shoulders. It’s an early start to the season with the crocuses done blooming and the lilacs having already started. The house I rent is in a small southern town occupied mostly by the elderly and a few young families who wanted to escape city life. Children are expected to be home right around now. It’s a safe community where most people are comfortable occasionally forgetting to lock their doors, or they simply don’t bother to begin with. I will never be one of those people. There’s a reason I had to change my name and move halfway across the country. Once you enter the protection program, there is no forgetting to lock your doors.

My hand clenches around the switchblade as I step through the side door. Inside, it’s quiet and the room takes on the golden hour’s warm glow. I walk through the house, sparing a quick glance inside each mostly empty room. Nothing stands out.

As I approach the kitchen, the tension in my back starts to ease. The bag drops off my shoulders and onto the table. I set the knife on the vinyl countertop and flick the kettle on. See? Nothing to worry about. It’s nice enough to take my drink out on the back porch and watch the rest of the sunset.

My attention switches once again to the vibrant sky out the window before I tear myself from the sight for a tea bag and a mug. The rumble of the water grows, yet when I hear the click indicating it should shut off, it doesn’t. It hasn’t even boiled yet. My breath catches in my chest as I freeze in my tracks, still facing the pantry. That wasn’t the kettle at all. It wasn’t the fan in the room over or some other appliance coming to life. That distinct sound, that click, belongs to one thing and one thing only. That was the safety taken off a handgun.

My knife is out of reach, still on the counter. I glance for anything I could use to defend myself in the pantry, but there’s nothing but boxes of cereal and cans of soup.

“I figured this would happen at some point,” I say to the figure in the corner of my eye, pointing the gun. “You people don’t tend to leave loose ends.”

“We don’t,” the dreadfully familiar voice confirms. I was hoping to never hear from him again. Especially not in these circumstances. His tone holds the same seriousness as the last time we spoke, after my father’s death. He told me then that I’d be lucky to never see him again.

I’m still not sure I understand what that means. Maybe I’m about to find out. For some reason, I don’t feel nervous. I’m ready to accept my fate.

Nothing’s felt real the last several months. My life has been stuck in limbo and despite my futile attempts, I’ve been unable to find any sort of meaning. Everything feels hopeless in the grander scheme of things. So if he’s come to take my life, I might even welcome it.

“Good thing you’re not a loose end,” Captain Price spares a small smile as he steps out further from the corner. Had I passed him on the street, I don’t know that I’d recognize him. From his worn jeans to his black windbreaker, the man completely blends in as a civilian.

“Put the gun away and I’ll try to believe you,” Price tilts his head to consider, then nods. The weapon slides easily back into its holster. It’s not like he’d need it anyway. I’m not exactly a formidable opponent.

“Fair enough,” his attention drifts to the box of Earl Grey in my hands. “Are you making tea?”

“Want a cup?” I offer, sliding the lid off the box.

“I would. It was a long trip to get here,” I know what he’s talking about. The few hundred people that live here, chose this place because its hours away from any of the neighbouring cities. People come here to get away from the city life. It has the bare necessities and that’s all they need.

“It’s a long trip to anywhere down here,” my voice feels empty. Void of the passion and desperation that once fueled every decision. Steaming water covers the teabags and fills the cups. “Milk or sugar?”

“Black is fine, thanks,” Price grunts as he settles into a chair at the kitchen table. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve used the table maybe twice. “Do you like it? The peace and quiet?” he muses.

“It’s different than New York,” I hesitantly offer as I set the cups down and take the seat across from him.

“Ah, but do you like it?” Our eyes meet and he knows the answer. “I didn’t think you would. You took well to the chaos of our world. Despite having no former training, you adapted in a way that most couldn’t,” I didn’t realize Price paid that much attention to me. I always assumed he was too preoccupied with the rats and the Russians.

The sweet tea dampens my dry mouth. I take a second sip to buy myself more time. What kind of answer is he looking for? Why is he here of all places? “I always like the business of New York. I guess that’s one thing I found similar between it and 141,” he ponders my response for a moment and a heavy silence blankets the room.

“Do you miss it?” his question feels redundant. Price has had the time and practice to become more patient than I will ever be.

“Yes – look as much fun as I’m having here, you know with you breaking into my house, pointing a gun at me, and drinking my tea. Why the hell are you here, Captain?”

“I’m here to offer you a job,” I blink. A job? There’s no way they want to hire me after what I did. How can they possibly look over the fact that I killed one of their highest-ranking prisoners before they could get any information from him?

“What kind of job?”

“Well I was thinking in our translations department,” Price says. “You’re fluent and have prior experience in this setting. And your history with the Ultranationalists gives you an edge. You also held your own incredibly well last time with no formal training. Give it a couple of months and you will become incredibly valuable to our team.”

Once the shock wears off, I’m almost flattered by his last comment. That’s high praise coming from Price. However, I’m also slightly amused. There’s no way he genuinely expects me to say yes. Does he really believe I’d just drop everything and work for 141? Surely not.

Yet, what is there to drop? My admin job at the town office and the zero friends I’ve made since moving to this place? The only people I talk to are those I work with and they aren’t allowed to know any real information about me or I risk exposing my true identity.  Everyone I once knew back home is off-limits. If they knew I was alive, I would be in even more danger than I was before. Even my mother doesn’t know of my existence. I was dead to her as soon as I killed my father. She would never want to talk to me again. She might even give up my location to the Ultranationalists herself.

Then there’s how I left things with Ghost. The last time I saw him, I was in a pool of my father’s blood. I don’t want to think about how much trouble he got in from letting that happen.

“I don’t know that your head interrogator wants anything to do with me,” I say assuming he doesn’t know Ghost willingly gave me the knife I used to kill my father.

“Whys that?” he says with raised brows as though he’s clueless. Price plays the role well, however he’s anything but.

“I lied to him and used him to get to my father. I’m a thief and a murderer.”

“Those were extreme circumstances, y/n.”

“If I work for you there will always be extreme circumstances,” I respond. “What makes you think you can trust me anyway? I betrayed you all.”

Price shifts in his chair. He takes a moment and gets a real good look at me, like he’s making sure. The shadows around his face have changed slightly. The sun’s gone now, but a fading blue hue falls over the horizon.

The windows are closed, but even if they were cracked, you wouldn’t hear any outside noise. This town is uncomfortably quiet. The wood creaks as Price leans forward again. “Time after time, y/n, you had almost every opportunity to betray us. There were the interviews, the ambush, the rats, the exchange, and even the death of your father. His killing was not a betrayal. None of the information he had would have made a difference,” Price’s list stirs unsettling memories. He notices and adds, “The only betrayal was that of a father to a daughter. You deserved better: loyalty, trust, truth, to be wanted.”

That last word finally cracks something in me. My heart falters and I take a sip of tea in an attempt to hide the effect of his words.

“Yeah, well…” the words trail off. I’ve got nothing else to say.

Something scuffs along the floor in a room over. Had there been any other noise I wouldn’t have noticed it. The sound was unmistakably human. Like someone was leaning against the wall and could no longer wait. I thought I cleared the rooms, but I was already wrong once. Nothing else follows for almost a minute until the floorboards whisper at the edge of the room. My head turns just as the shadow emerges around the dim corner.

“We want you, y/n,” Simon Riley’s coarse voice fills the room. When our eyes meet, I forget how to breathe. My joints stiffen and my feet turn to lead. His demanding presence completely fills the room and even in civilian clothes, Ghost looks like he belongs on a battlefield.

For a moment it truly feels like I am looking at a ghost, at someone who was as good as dead to me. Someone who, an hour ago, I would have guaranteed I would never see or hear of again.

All the memories I’d been trying to forget over these past months begin to surface. I remember the heat of his rough hands on my skin and the pressure of his arms wrapped around me. The brush of his breath past my ears and down my neck. The stability he provided when my whole world was collapsing around me. The way he risked his life for mine countless times. The way he trusted me to make the ultimate decision when it came to my father and my future. He has always wanted me. He has always chosen me. Now, it's my turn to choose.

Nothing has been the same after learning about the Ultranationalists. It’s impossible to be happy when you know the truth. Part of me feels responsible for the horrible things my father has done. I also know I will never be content here. I can’t keep hiding, but I can help. I can work to remedy the evil that has corrupted my family.

“Do you want tea?”

The end, for now. Thank you for the kind words and support throughout this story. If you are a returning reader, thank you for your patience.

[heliza24]

Complicated Thoughts on Daniel's Turning (or, in defense of disabled vampires)

So I have complicated feelings about Daniel’s turning. The way I feel about it changes every day. Sometimes I don’t mind it, but some days, on days like today when I’ve dealt with a bunch of other ableist bullshit out in the real world, I kind of hate it. Or at least I think I might, depending on how season 3 pans out.

One of the first reasons I fell in love with the show was its inclusion of a disabled character as the main audience surrogate. I’ve already written a lot about what good disabled representation Daniel is, and how including a sick character serves as a foil for the bodily transformation vampires experience and adds to the story. So many of the show’s themes of immortality and grief are thrown into high relief by the inclusion of Daniel as a disabled/chronically ill man.

Interview with the Vampire is a show about trauma and grief, and I found it especially exciting that the show’s refusal to pull any punches extended to addressing the pandemic. The pandemic is a huge source of loss, trauma and grief, especially for disabled people, and Hollywood’s response to that has been to memory hole it as quickly as possible. Most shows, artists and viewers find it too painful to delve back into these sore spots. But Interview with Vampire can’t do that, because the main plot of the show is about a character being “protected” from trauma by having his memories removed. This is a show that wants us to confront our grief in our pain and learn how to move through it.

So you can see how Daniel showing up as a vampire in the very last minutes of season two was a little jarring and initially upsetting to me. Gone are all of those complex explorations of illness and trauma and instead Daniel is almost a completely different character. The fact that this was dropped as basically a tease for the next season, like a Marvel post credits sequence, was what really bothered me. This incredibly important transformation was reduced to a punch line at worst and a “coming next on” at best.

There are a lot of unfortunate tropes that get used almost every time an able bodied writer decides to include a disabled character (and let’s be real, they are always able bodied, because disabled writers do not get hired to show run). One of the most common is the “magical cure“. This happens in almost every example of speculative fiction that includes a disabled character that I can think of. It means that disabled characters are effectively written out of almost every fantasy and science fiction story. There are a lot of problems with this trope. It tells disabled people that they don’t deserve stories that include magic or adventure. It takes away opportunities from disabled actors and means that able bodied actors are cast, and then instructed to “crip up” for the scenes that take place before their cure arrives. (I love Eric’s performance, but it’s not lost on me that he’s an able bodied actor playing a disabled character). There’s the fact that cures are very rarely complete, and most disabled people live in a halfway world of having some access and some treatment that is effective, while they still deal with the physical pain or exclusion that being disabled brings. And there’s no reason that this in betweenness would not extend to treatment available in speculative worlds. Perhaps the worst part of this trope is that it bends to able bodied peoples’ discomfort around this ambiguity. Chronic pain and inaccessibility and reliance on care is sad and scary to a lot of people, and they’d rather not see it. And because of that, they lose out on an opportunity to explore all sorts of themes that only disabled characters can really unlock. Themes about the body, about metamorphosis, about community, and about a hundred other things that us crips understand in a way that someone outside our bodies cannot see in the same way.

So the way that Daniel was presented at the very end of season two was as a complete and total magical cure. He doesn’t have to worry about pandemic anymore, his movement seems a lot easier, and he’s immortal now.

If the show moves forward in this way, without digging deeper into Daniel‘s transformation and perhaps re-examining some vampire lore, it’s going to end up sacrificing some of the themes that made season one and two so great. And it’s going to make me very upset.

However, I think there’s a lot of opportunity for the show to explore Daniel’s transformation with sensitivity and depth. I haven’t talked about Armand yet in this meta, but I love him and I love shipping him with Daniel. My love for Devil’s minion is perhaps the one reason I wasn’t purely angry about Daniel being turned in the way that he was; I do appreciated the way it sets up the show to explore their complicated dynamic. In particular, I’m fascinated by the fact that Armand not only violated his own personal vow never to turn someone, but also violated the great laws when doing so. Daniel breaks the laws in just about every way – he’s written about the history of the vampires, he knows the vampires true identity and has been allowed to live, etc. But the biggest violation is that Daniel is “crippled“ when he’s turned. Now I’ve already written about the way the vampire coven and the great laws espouse eugenics, and I think the show makes it pretty clear that these laws are harmful. The greatest tragedy of the show is Claudia‘s murder. She was killed because according to the coven, she was turned too young. This early turning really had no tangible negative impact on her life as a vampire except in the way that other vampires perceived her. The consequences were all imposed by the coven, who saw her body as wrong and unacceptable. In show canon Armand was also turned when he was sick. Specifically, he had some kind of wasting disease, then made him lose muscle and feel weaker as he came closer to dying. I’ve always maintained the part of the reason that Armand comes down so hard on Claudia is because he projects his own insecurities and weaknesses on her. If he doesn’t eliminate her, someone might recognize how similar they are and question Armand‘s power and authority.

I wonder how much older Daniel’s Parkinson’s reminds Armand of his wasting disease. I wonder if the fact that their vampire eyes are the same color makes Armand think about how similar they are, and about how they are both violators of the Great Laws. I wonder if they ever talk about the ableism inherent in vampire society. I wonder if Armand worries that his transformation of Daniel will be incomplete or botched, because he’s never made one before and because why would there be a prohibition against turning disabled people if there weren’t potential negative consequences? I wonder if sometimes Daniel feels conflicted about leaving behind a body that caused him pain but also shaped him into the person he is, the person that Armand fell in love with (fell in love with again?). I wonder if the show will explore any of these questions with the depth the deserve, or if it will lean fully into a quick and tidy magical cure for Daniel. I really, really hope they do the conversations around Daniel’s turning justice. Because I think in the right hands, a script that explores these issues could be transcendent. These are all themes that the show has already been exploring, and it would be a downright shame to fumble the opportunity to deepen the storytelling around bodily difference, eugenics, grief and change at the final hurdle.

If I were writing on the show, I would lobby hard to have Daniel still retain some symptoms of Parkinson’s even after he’s turned. I know that Daniel will be an unusually powerful fledgling, because he’s Armand‘s only and Armand is very powerful and old. But disability does not preclude power. Daniel should have extraordinary vampire instincts, and power – we’ve already seen him master long distance telepathy quite early, and he could have access to other gifts as a young vampire too. But he could be doing all those things while still sometimes having tremors or fatigue or experiencing the ghosts of old pain. What an interesting way to add complexity to a loud and brash new fledgling.

In general, I want to make the case for disabled vampires. Anne Rice was immensely talented but also immensely ableist. But that doesn’t mean we have to be too. We can take her world and make it more colorful and diverse, just as the show has already begun to do. And let me tell you, there is no group of people more prepared to become vampires than disabled people. We’ve already had to adapt to bodies that act in unruly ways. We’ve already had to cope with being outcasts in society. And those of us with chronic pain (I include myself here) have a more similar relationship to pain and bodies to vampires than to most other humans. Vampires spend a lot of time being afraid of pain; since they are immortal, it’s the next biggest threat after death. Not a lot of people experience pain in this way, as totally separate from a mortal threat on their life. But I do, because even on days when I am in blinding, horrendous pain, it is in no danger of killing me. Its only consequence is the toll it takes on my mind and spirit. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone more prepared to weather the uncertainty and the pain and the brutality of living forever than disabled people. And I would absolutely love to see a disabled vampire in action on my screen.

As we move into season three, and into Lestat’s rockstar career, we’re going to necessarily leave behind the world that is still concerned about the pandemic. Rock venues and musicians in the real world have abandoned any kind of Covid precautions and no longer care if their concerts are super spreaders. Lestat doesn’t strike me as someone particularly concerned with the health of mortals, so I’m sure he’ll be the same. So I hope in order to balance that out, the show does make a deliberate attempt to continue exploring disability through Daniel. I guess they might also weave the pandemic into the Great Convergence and whatever they’ve got cooking for Those Who Must Be Kept since those things were mentioned together and season one, and I would also be excited to see that.

In the meantime, I’m going to be writing a fic that explores Daniel’s turning in a way that delves into all of the questions I asked earlier about the intersections of disability, eugenics, and vampirism. I would love if you read the first chapter and subscribed. I would also love if you included disability in your discussions about the show, and especially about baby vamp Daniel. I can only hope that the writers will follow our example!

[janeyseymour]

stick season

summary: it's stick season. Hurt.

WC: ~1.85k

Feel free to listen to my cover of the Noah Kahan song!

Melissa has been your girlfriend for a year now. And she just joined you on a long weekend to go visit your hometown up in Vermont. Your parents absolutely adored Melissa, giving you the stamp of approval on your newest girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier about that. 

It was warm, it was cozy, it was perfect. Or at least that’s what you thought. But apparently you were wrong, because the drive back to Philly just felt wrong.

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined, you must have had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive, because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign; kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right.

Melissa had told you that it was entirely worth all of the miles you were putting on her car to go up there with you over the weekend, and you can’t help but smile with joy. And then she’s kissing the back of your hand and promising you that you were more than all of those miles combined.

But then, about halfway through the car ride home, there’s a shift. She takes her hand off of your thigh as she drives, and when she passes the exit that she usually would to take you back to your apartment, she goes silent, biting her lip as if she’s deep in thought.

When she pulls in to her own driveway, she looks to you sadly.

“Hun? What’s wrong?” you ask, clearly concerned about this sudden shift in attitude. 

She bites her lip nervously. “Y/N, I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

“Do what?” you ask, although deep down you know what she’s hinting at.

She gestures between the two of you. “This. I- I’m not ready for the commitment that you’re ready for… you want to get married and have kids, and move back up to Vermont, and I can’t do that. I- I’m sorry.”

You leave her house in a puddle of tears. The uber driver that gets the misfortune of taking you home gives you quite a few concerned looks through the rear-view mirror.

Now I am stuck between my anger, and the blame that I can’t face, and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace. And I’m terrified of weather cause I see you when it rains. Doc told me to travel but there’s Covid on the planes.

You’re furious. You don’t know who you’re more mad at: yourself or Melissa. She just spent the last three nights with you up in Vermont playing the part of perfect girlfriend before dumping you and leaving you to explain to your parents that you’re single again. And you’re mad at yourself because you knew she didn’t want the future you did, but you had foolishly hoped she would change her mind. You suppose you should take the blame for that one, but you don’t want to face it- admit that it was your fault for putting blind faith in her.

Deciding that you need to relax, you roll yourself a joint, but the memories of you and Melissa over the past year just continue to replay in your mind. And for the first time ever since you started smoking weed, it doesn’t help the pain you feel in your chest. The drug might be able to remedy physical aches and pains, but it sure as hell can’t fix a broken heart; you’re not sure anything can right now.

You don’t leave your house for the next few weeks unless absolutely necessary. You’re a mopey mess, and your therapist finally tells you that you should travel. And you consider going back to Vermont because being in the same city as your now ex-girlfriend hurts too much. But there’s Covid on the planes, and you can’t quite justify driving up to Vermont on Friday night just to leave again on Sunday morning. Come Friday, you really do still toy with the idea of making your way back to your parents’ house, but there’s a cold front making it’s way through the Mid-Atlantic all the way up through New England, and you’re not about to attempt to drive through seven hours of rain and wind. Besides, when it rains, you can only think of Melissa. She used to have you dance out in the rain with her before cozying up on the couch and watching movies. She claimed it was the only way to spend a rainy day.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

There’s a season that happens in New England when Fall starts to make its exit and Winter presents itself- and every year, around stick season, your life changes. Melissa came during stick season last year, and she left during this stick season. It hurts.

You end up seeing her mother at the grocery store, and you look like a wreck. You give her a shy wave just to be polite- things may have ended with her daughter, but it’s clear to you that she’s entirely forgotten about your existence or previous presence in Melissa’s life.

That stings, and you make your way to the alcohol aisle, throwing a few bottles of wine in your cart so you can mope and play the victim at home tonight. You suppose you’ll just drink until a few of your friends from college come home for Christmas.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad. No, I am no longer funny cause I miss the way you laugh.

For the childhood that you had with your father, the relationship that you have with him as a grown woman is nothing short of a miracle. Because of everything you witnessed growing up as a child with having your father for a Dad, you came out better. You knew where to draw the line with certain things. You were funny because of the trauma that he caused you though too… but you aren’t funny anymore because the off color jokes that you used to make were usually just there for Melissa- and you miss the way she laughs. So now, you’re back to the quiet and shy, reserved person that you used to be before she brought out the best (and worst) in you.

You once called me forever, now you still can’t call me back. 

You remember when she told you that she was going to be yours forever. You didn’t think that she would ever say something like that- you knew that she hadn’t ever wanted to get married again, but you continued to pursue her romantically. And it was all looking really good for you, until she broke up with you.

You’ve called her a few times, to beg and grovel for her to take you back- tell her that you didn’t care about marriage and children as long as it meant you got to keep her in your life, but she refused to pick up the phone or call you back.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

You end up flying home after a few weeks because you simply can’t bear the pain of this heartbreak alone, and you can’t quite justify driving for a weekend. It’s still stick season though, and you feel the cool air wash over you as you exit the airport and try to hail a cab back to your childhood home.

After the flight back home, you see Melissa’s mother at the airport. She has a sign that she’s holding indicating that she’s picking someone up. But she doesn’t see you, and after the last meeting with her, you doubt she remembers you… she’s definitely forgotten about your existence by now.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your breakup with the Schemmenti was half your fault at this point, but you still take the Septa to get closer to your house before stopping at a liquor store- with the intention of once again playing the victim and drowning your sorrows in a bottle of tequila.

Maybe once you’ve seen some of your old college friends, you’ll head back north to see your hometown friends when they come.

And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

That redheaded beauty has haunted your dreams since you broke up with her. And you miss her dearly. But in each of your dreams, she’s a different version of herself, and it’s quite odd. Somewhere deep inside though, you know none of the versions of Melissa that your mind had made up are her- so you didn’t really lose her in a sense.

You always wake up though and sigh. She isn’t next to you like she should be. And when you head into your living room, you see a pair of her shoes that she left here and hasn’t asked to get back yet.

Your heart splits in half every time you see those shoes. You should just throw them out at this point, but you don’t want to touch them- if they’re there, maybe she’ll come back to you one day. 

Oh that’ll have to do… My other half was you. I hope this pain’s just passing through, but I doubt it.

She really was your other half, and you hope that the pain that you feel every time you see her shoes passes eventually, but you doubt it will.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas. And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

Stick season passes by, and you’re still left on your own. Christmas time comes, and you find yourself with a bottle in your hand almost every night to try to help numb the pain. It’s becoming less and less, but you still miss her with all your heart. You know that being split in half will just have to do… maybe next stick season will bring you something happy again.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

series masterlist

MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

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user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

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user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

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user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

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user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always – and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

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user you did the best you could 💙

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user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Random QL Grievances: 2024 Edition

Once again taking @lurkingshan's lead and doing my own version of this one. And in case the word grievances in bold and in the title is not enough of a clue, I will be saying not so nice things about some shows. You've been warned.

"The root of disappointment is expectation" Shows that were promising even before they started or that raised expectations and didn't follow through.

Last Twilight

I had high expectations for this show from the team and the story alone, and they were met until the halfway point, ok maybe episode 8. When it was good, it was really good. But when it turned bad, it turned irredeemably bad. Like I said at the time, this show had a real opportunity to say something about people with disabilities and also class disparity. But the message that one can only be happy when they're abled and one can only be worthy when they have "a proper job" is one that still pisses me off today. In my mind, they broke up not long after and Mhok is happy in with someone else in Hawaii.

23.5 Degrees

Speaking of badly handled characters...This show did so many things wrong, but the one that hurt me the most was what they did with Aylin. Once again, the message is, you need to change what is unique or different about you in order to be accepted and by extent be happy. I hate it.

Wandee Goodday

It started off so strong. A lot of things pissed me off about this show by the end, so I'll just mention the one that still kinda makes my blood boil. The most atrocious case of pair the spares.

The On1y One

More than anything, what pissed me off the most about the ending of this was that I felt like I was manipulated. I felt they purposefully left the story without any resolution, to make sure they got a second season. Because the director was asking viewers to put pressure on whoever, and to talk about the show and sign petitions or whatever the hell it was, while the show is still on, so for me felt like it was all planned. They did a disservice to their own work and their own team by stretching this story and adding elements to make sure it couldn't possibly be told in one season. And I have no issue with planning for a second season, but there are ways to do this and still make the audience feel like they saw a story with a start, a middle and an end. Even if it's an open ending.

I Hear the Sunspot

If you follow me or know anything about me, you know that it hurts my soul to put a jbl on this list. I am in pain. But I couldn't not do it. This was one of the biggest disappointments of the year for me. Not only because it's a jbl, but because from the start it had everything going for it. I still can't believe they managed to so spectacularly ruin this show in its second half. I said enough about it at the time, no point going into it again.

Other 2024 big disappointments :Jack & Joker (not enough bl in this bl), Unknown (that ending), The Sign (what a mess), Love is Better the Second Time Around (in so much pain), My Strawberry Film (it's not a bl but also doesn't know it is).

Other Random Grievances

Biggest Loss of Trust aka #in nobody we trust - Blossom Campus

Strongberry... What the hell? Nothing that strongberry has ever produced before could've prepared me for this mess. I still have no words for whatever this was.

It should've stayed on the shelf -Love is Like a Cat

There was no love and no cat. And they killed the dog. And if that wasn't enough, it was just so incredibly boring.

Worst adaption of a webtoon - Jazz for Two

As it turns out, pretty is not enough. Who knew? But seriously, Korea always gives me the pretty pictures and the pretty people. But this was awful. I read the source material and honestly it baffles me how they could make so many wrong choices.

Biggest waste of a good premise and excellent visuals - Dead friend Forever & 4 Minutes

And they killed Fuaiz TWICE!!!! I'm just gonna assume that his characters will not survive from now on. Anyway. I really loved the visuals of both these shows. But the writing just couldn't measure up. They both stumbled at the end, although I think 4 minutes stumbled way before that.

I think maybe I should stop. Anyway I only included shows I watched till the end, and not ones I dropped.

[soaringeag1e]

Time

Jensen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Sadness, Heartache, injuries, Blood, Sweet Caring Jensen {I know, doesn't seem really Christmasy haha, sorry, not sorry.}

Words: 2,252

Main Masterlist - Patreon

She spent the day putting up her tree and decorating her apartment, keeping busy and trying to keep her mind off other things. She desperately wanted to feel the spirit of Christmas, feel excited and cheerful, but those moments didn’t last long unfortunately. Even with lights hanging throughout the space, her tree bright green and sparkling with twinkling white bulbs, she just wasn’t feeling it.

She was sucked in by the lights on the tree as they took turns lighting up, a few knocks going unnoticed as she was spacing out, lost in her thoughts. It takes a few more attempts from her visitor before she finally gets pulled out of her trance and hears the thuds against her door.

Glancing down at the glass in her hand, the melted ice tells her that she’s been spacing out for a lot longer than she thought, but that doesn’t surprise her honestly. Setting her holiday drink on the table, she moves towards her door where a few more knocks come through. Peeking through the peephole, she grows a bit confused when she sees who it is and quickly pulls on the locks to reveal her friend on the other side. He gets startled after the long dragged out silence but smiles when they lock eyes nonetheless.

“Hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t home.”

“No, I just um…” she pauses, looking back into her apartment to where she was glued just seconds ago. “I’m sorry.” she apologizes in a quiet breath, hesitating to look her visitor in the eye before changing the subject. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were in New Mexico working on…” When she can’t continue her sentence he raises his brow, a smartass smirk growing on his face.

“Big Sky?”

“Yes! That.” She looked embarrassed as she couldn’t remember the name of the show he was currently involved with.

“Well, it’s nice to know that you’re so into it.” he tells her, the sarcasm not going unnoticed. 

“Hey, I’ve been busy.” she counters, letting him in the apartment. “And I’m halfway through season two now, so…”

“So…you haven’t even made it to my episode. Good to know.”

“Did you just come here to give me a hard time? Because I’ve had enough of that this year.” Her tone changes as she closes the door. “Best friend or not, I’m just not in the mood.” As she roughly rubs at her eyes, his heart sinks. The relationship he has with her has always been playful. It was his job to mess with her and it always made her smile, but sadly he has underestimated the pain she has taken on in the last year and hasn’t adjusted his teasing accordingly.

Her body flinches just a tad when he slides his arms around her, but she quickly melts into him, dropping her arms into his chest and letting him squeeze her tight.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers faintly, kissing her temple sweetly but never loosens his grip. He feels her relax more in his arms, the tension he could feel in her entire body slowly slipping away the longer he holds her. Minutes pass and he doesn’t know how many, but honestly doesn’t care. But what she says next fills his heart with pride.

“I needed one of your hugs today.” He can hear the emotion in her voice but knowing that he was able to bring something good to her keeps his happiness up. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You always seem to know when I need you the most and I don’t get it.” Jensen smirks, his pride only being fueled more.

“Magic.” he tells her as he pulls away, locking eyes with her. “If I told you my secret, I’d have to kill you.”

“Please, do.” She comes back with a not so sarcastic response and Jensen just has to remind himself that pain and anger makes people say that kind of stuff. It wasn’t long ago that he felt the same way.

“Can’t do that. Sorry.”

“Why?” she whines, dropping her head to his chest.

“Because you mean too much to me.” he says simply, but the feelings behind it are anything but. Which in turn makes the next few moments painful even for him.

She scoffs and pulls away from him, moving towards the table where her drink waits, the ice practically gone now.

“With the group of friends you have? Trust me, you won’t be missing me long.” He swallows back his initial reaction, pushing the sting his heart took way down and attempts to forget about it.

“You’re wrong.” There’s no joking in his gaze now, not that she expected it. But she doesn’t see that look often and it was definitely one that hit her hard. “Listen,” he starts before taking a few steps closer to her. “I know what you’re going through is hard and I know you’re hurting, but I promise that it will get better.” Honestly, he expected an eye roll or something, but it seemed that she understood he was being serious. “He may not know what he lost but we do, and we won’t make that same mistake.” Her eyes dropped to her drink, emotions coming to the surface again. He’s not sure what to say now because he’s finally let go of some of the things he’s been holding in. At least the more appropriate things. But as he scans the apartment and sees the tree all dressed up in the corner, he smiles, grateful that you were able to at least decorate for the holiday.

“It looks great.” he points out, stepping around her to get closer to the holiday staple. “I was afraid you weren’t going to decorate at all.” he admits, not taking his eyes off the twinkling lights.

“I almost didn’t.” she confesses, not moving from her spot. “But, I was hoping that it would help pull me out of this a little bit.”

“I think it will.” he nods softly as he turns back to face her.

“I don’t know about that.” she tells him, emotion heavy in her voice. “It hasn’t done anything so far.”

“Just give it time.”

“Ugh.” she grunts heavily, spinning around to make her way into the kitchen. “Time. It’s always about time, right!?” She raises her voice a bit as she makes it to the counter and pours more alcohol into her glass. “After being torn away from your family as a kid, give it time. You lose someone you love, give it time. Your husband cheats on you and throws away sixteen years of your life, give it time!” she cries, tears slipping from her eyes as Jensen makes his way towards her. Her body trembles from anger but she tosses back the liquid she just added to the glass, not really bothered by the strength of the drink. “You know what they all have in common, Jay!? No matter how much time you give them, they never go away! Ever!” she screams, slamming her glass down onto the counter as the anger she was feeling made her lose all control over her actions. Seeing this, Jensen surges forward but it all happens way too fast.

The second the glass touches the counter top, it shatters. Chunks of the glistening pieces fly across the counter in all directions, falling to the floor and sliding with their momentum. But it was the painful cry that Jensen was focused on. Glass crunched under his boots as he rushed to her side, blood dripping onto the counter and the fallen shards of glass as she raised her hand to see what she just did to herself.

“Let me see.” Fully concerned, he reaches for her hand, gentle so as not to hurt her more than she already was. She quietly huffs and moans in pain as he inspects it. It takes him a moment to see how bad it is and he becomes grateful when it doesn’t look like she needs stitches, but he does see a piece of glass sticking out from her wound. He glances up briefly, seeing that she’s only focusing on the cut. “Hold still.” he tells her before carefully removing the shard from her hand. She hisses in pain but it needed to be done. “Here, come here.” Keeping her hand elevated, he swipes the towel from the counter and then escorts her into the living room, helping her onto the couch. “Keep it up, I’ll be right back.”

Careful not to slip on the glass near the kitchen, Jensen rushes down the hall and into her room. He’s gone maybe thirty seconds, if that. He’s been in her house before, he knows where everything is. Especially the first aid kit. This wasn’t the first time he had to patch her up after hurting herself, but this definitely was the worst injury he’s had to help her with.

“Alright, let me see.” he says as he re-enters the room. Grabbing onto your coffee table, he pulls it closer to the couch and then takes a seat, situating himself so that he could fix you up without having you stretch your arm out too far.

“I’m sorry.” you whimper softly and he glances up through his lashes before focusing back on your hand.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” It falls silent after that for a bit. She flinches a few times as he cleans up the wound and checks to see if any more glass was hiding inside, but otherwise he gets it as clean as he can and then starts to bandage it up.

“You’re right.” he finally breaks the silence, not looking up from his task as he continues. “It never does go away.” he admits and then falls quiet again. But only for a minute or two. “But, eventually you will get to a place where you won’t think about it as much. And if you do, it won’t hurt as bad as it does now.” Silent sobs shake her body a bit as she listens to him, the pain of what she’s been through tearing through her more than that glass did to her hand. “Listen,” he says as he tapes off the bandage, making sure it’s secure and then he looks up at her. “Your scumbag husband lost his fucking mind.” The anger is visible in his gaze, but she knows it’s not meant for her. “To have one of the most amazing women on this planet choose him and love him and do anything for him just to turn around and…” his jaw locks as he reminds himself to keep calm. But that’s just something he can’t do fully.

“Fuck him. Okay? You deserve a million times better than him. You deserve someone who cares about you and takes care of you just as much as you do for them. No more of this eighty, twenty shit, you hear me?” Tears continue to slip from her eyes and though he knows they won’t stop, he reaches up and wipes a few away anyway. “So, yeah, it’s going to take time and it’s going to hurt like hell, but I swear to you, somewhere down the road you are going to look back at this and see how much of a blessing this was. You’re going to be able to wake up every morning and not feel like death when you roll out of bed. You’ll be able to drive home, take showers and fall asleep without crying every time. Right now, it doesn’t seem possible, I know, but it will happen. I promise you.” 

Silence fills the apartment after that. The two of them soaking in the speech and just letting the moment be for a minute. Then Jensen reaches up and wipes away her tears again, this time clearing her face as no more were falling at the moment.

“Ready to get some sleep?” Unable to speak, she just nods softly. “Alright.” pushing himself up from the table, he helps her up and escorts her to the edge of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go and climb in bed, I’m gonna…” he pauses, looking over all the glass everywhere. “I’m gonna clean this up.” When he looks back at her, he gives her his best grin. She takes it and slowly turns and starts walking down the hall, but she stops a few feet away, looking back at the man in the kitchen, setting the dustpan on the counter and beginning to sweep the floor.

“Jensen?” Hearing his name, he stops. “Thank you.” A smile grows on his face and he sends her a nod. But when she doesn’t move, he pushes her a bit. 

“Go on. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” This time, he watches her walk down the hall and disappear into her room.

The feelings he’s harbored for her for so long now have a chance to come out, but he has to hold them back for a while longer. Yes, she may be single now, but with the healing that she has to go through, he can’t be jumping in the deep end right away. The last thing he wants is to become the rebound or end up hurting her even more because he gave into his desires too soon.

He loves that woman, more than he realizes to be honest. So the only way to keep her is to wait. To give it time. 

[usmsgutterson]

Nothing Feels As Good As Going Home - S.R

Okay!! My ao3 did see this one first (I had edited it late last night and honestly?? I was too lazy to post it on both platforms because I edited it on ao3 and was too lazy to copy, paste, and then write an authors note lmao) and I'm pretty unsure about this as a whole because I'm only eight seasons in and I haven't written for Spencer before, but I'm conquering my fears tonight.

Despite my bio (which will be changed at least fifteen minutes after this has been posted--I have two accounts and I want to do some maintenance for this one because it needs a little TLC I fear) my requests are currently open!! They're wide open to Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner, even though I'd also likely be willing to write for another criminal minds character if you asked.

Fic type - this one is tooth rotting fluff because I couldn't resist

Warnings - spencer might be a tad ooc because this is the first time I've written for him. This is also set either in or around season eight as, when I wrote this, I was about halfway through that season and I'm currently close to 2/3rds of the way done with it. Cats are also in this one, if you aren't a cat person.

Spencer used to hate going home. He felt like he’d never really know what would be going on the minute he opened the front door and stepped inside, and after his father left, that fear intensified bit by bit.  

After his father left, he never knew what it would mean, going home, so he stalled. He’d go to a local park and sit on a bench and read a few books in an hour, maybe two, in order to escape the fear he felt at the idea of going home when he had no idea what would be going on in that house, whether his mother was okay that day or not.  

When he went to college and was living in the dorms, he hated going back because it meant more isolation. More loneliness, more of the same, really. Only his books to keep him company and just about nobody else, unless Ethan called, which he usually did two or three times a week. Ethans calls were one of the only things that really helped him when he wasn’t looking after his mother whenever he was on break, typically around the winter and during the summer.  

After having his mother institutionalised, he feared going home because it meant that she wasn’t there, and the guilt that came with having her taken into a facility when it wasn’t something she wanted weighed down on him very heavily.  

In those last two years pre-FBI, he hated going home because it meant more of the same. More loneliness, more of the same nature documentaries he'd seen a thousand times before if he wasn't putting on the news, and more books that he’d already read several times before haunting him from wherever it was that they sat on his bookshelves, which had been scattered throughout most rooms in his apartment.  

But he joined the FBI at twenty-one and managed to meet you somewhere along that year, found out that you’d just started working with the Marshals and had lived only twenty five minutes out from Arlington, which put you about fifteen from Quantico as a whole, and he started hating going home a lot less after you guys had been together for four months.  

After four months of dates and getting to know each other, getting home usually meant going on another date or Spencer finally getting the opportunity to call you and stay on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes.  

Spencer is very careful about your relationship, though—very secretive, though he doesn’t really mean to be, to avoid teasing from Derek and, four or so years down the line, Emily and JJ, though even Rossi joined in on occasion.

It’s not until he’s on the jet, Alex sitting to his left, JJ across him and Derek diagonally so, that he has to spill the beans.  

He gets a text from you and it’s the way that he smiles that gives it away.  

Hey, Spence! I cleaned up the house a little bit and went to grab your favourite coffee beans from the bodega we both like. Also: meet Megatron. Her name deceives.  

Attached is a photo of a kitten that can’t be more than four or five weeks old, dark brown everywhere except for her paws and chin, which are white.  

“Who’s the lucky one, boy genius?” Derek asks.  

“Huh?” Spencer looks up, eyes widened slightly. “It’s nobody.”  

JJs head tilts. “You wouldn’t smile like that for a nobody,” she says. “Who is it?”  

“Is it the one with the dark blue Prius--” Alex starts before she pauses, realizing where she's fumbled. That gets Rossi and Hotch interested, both of whom come to sit in the seats across from the four.  

Alex is the only one on the team who knows about you apart from Penelope, which is pure happenstance—his car had broken down once when both she and Spencer had worked a late night, and so you’d offered to pick him up from work so that the two of you could go back to the house you shared and indulge in a shark documentary and some pizza.  

“It is,” Spencer nods. “Their name is Y/N.”  

“How long have you had a Y/N?” Derek asks.  

“Since I was twenty-one,” Spencer admits. “About a decade now.”  

“You kept a romantic partner hidden for a decade ?” Derek asks. “How? Does--”  

“Penelope knows about them because they’re in the group she goes to on Tuesdays,” Spencer says. “The one for knitting and crocheting—Y/N does the latter, mostly, but they did knit the cardigan I was wearing last week.”  

“And how did Penelope figure out about the thing you two have had going on?”  

“It’s more than a thing , Derek,” Alex says. “If it’s been going for a decade, it’s more than a thing.”  

“We’d gotten done with a case early, and Penelope had left pretty much as soon as we were on the jet so that she could make it to the aforementioned group. I asked them where they were and picked them up with their favourite tea as a surprise. Penelope saw me there, watched us hug, and just about lost her mind. Have I satisfied your thirst for knowledge yet?”  

He turns to Alex briefly, nods a bit to answer her earlier remark. “I just proposed last weekend, so you’re right. It’s more than just a thing I would say.”  

Derek and JJs eyes widen until their shock is clearly conveyed, and Spencer laughs.  

“You have a fiancee, and you just—didn't think to fucking tell anybody?” Derek laughs. “Were you ever going to tell us?”  

“I was—we've been busy with work, and it didn’t occur to me.”  

“Okay,” JJ nods like she believes it, and that’s good enough for Spencer because he’s telling the truth anyway. “What was the text about?”  

Spencer shrugs, paraphrases.  

“They wrote me to tell me they’d cleaned up the house and picked up a stray, I think,” Spencer answers. “I mean, the stray part wasn't explicitly stated but—the kitten doesn’t look more than four weeks old, so the assumption was immediate, but they know I can’t say no to cats. They’ve been hoping that they’d find a stray while I was on a case since we first moved into a condo together. We bought our house six months ago now, and they’ve joked, every single time before I’ve left for a case, that it’s the perfect time.”  

“What’d they name it?” Rossi asks. “Assuming they didn’t ask for your input. I wouldn’t--I’d have a kitten named Einstein who could never live up to that.”  

Spencer can’t help the loving laugh that bubbles up from his throat as his fingers absently locate the chain around his neck, with an engagement ring of his own weighing the chain down just slightly so that the ring sits comfortably at the middle of his collarbone.  

“They named her Megatron,” he says nonchalantly. “Smallest cat I’ve ever seen, and still, she’s got big shoes to fill. Massive ones, actually.”  

That is enough to get Hotch to crack a smile. For a second, Spencer feels like he’s winning even though a game isn’t even being played.  

“Okay, so—how did you do it?” JJ asks. “I mean—ten years and a recent engagement? With only two people on our team discovering through that entire time? How?”  

“Penelope figured it out three years in,” Spencer answers. “Alex only figured it out recently, which is kind of surprising because I’ve never exactly hidden their existence. I just haven't talked about them because nobody has ever really asked but—I don’t know, either. We kept it low key because we both work law enforcement and it was just easier that way for the first little while, and then we both decided we liked the quiet so we kept things that way.”  

“They work in law enforcement?” Derek asks, his eyes narrowing. “Are they FBI?”  

“They’re a Deputy US Marshal, actually,” Spencer corrects. “They work in the Virginia office, which is 45 minutes outside of Quantico, up in Arlington. It’s why I have a twenty five minute commute—we both like our jobs a lot, and twenty-five minutes for me one way is only eighteen minutes for them the other, but I like driving so I don’t mind. They’re in talks for a promotion right now, and they were meant to hear about it today but so far their texts haven’t indicated anything about that.”  

It’s the most Spencer has told anyone except his mother about you since you’d gotten together, and while you both normally like to keep things quiet, bragging about you to the people he routinely trusts with his life is a very nice feeling.  

“US Marshal?” JJ asks. “They pretty commonly hire ex-military,” she says.  

“They’ve never been anywhere near the military,” Spencer laughs. “They did a two year degree at a community college, went to Glynco for training, and were employed by the US Marshals by twenty-one, around the same time I joined the FBI. We met each other at a coffee shop when they were off of work and their local one was closed, so our meeting was kismet.”  

Spencers phone buzzes again, and he ignores it that time. 

Alex grins at him, while Derek tuts and JJs eyes go to his phone as it buzzes once, then twice more, the fourth buzz coming four and a half seconds after the first, second, and third.  

“Check it,” she urges. “The jet is going to land in fifteen minutes, Spencer, so if it’s good news, you might as well.”  

SPENCER!! 

I have really really REALLY good news 

Please tell me your jet is landing soon or the very minute it’s landed call me please because you work twenty five minutes away and that means I can call and order from Antonios and by the time you’re home, you’ll only have to wait five minutes for pizza.  

Also, Megatrons full name is Megatron Ichabod Reid. Just so you know. I love you so much you stupid smart handsome tall man.  

Spencer doesn’t even try to fight his laugh as he reads.

“Good news?” Derek asks.  

“I think they got promoted, but I won’t know for sure til I’m home,” Spencer answers. “Also--Megatrons full name is apparently Megatron Ichabod Reid—their texts read like they’re hyper.”  

“I’d be pretty hyper if I got news of a promotion,” Rossi says. “Let us know if they did, though, kid. I’m hosting a dinner to celebrate your engagement regardless, but if they got promoted, it’s another thing to celebrate on the roster, and all the more of an excuse to meet the person you’ve kept hidden from the likes of us for a decade.”  

“You guys ordering Antonios?” Alex asks. “You mentioned getting Antonios for dinner the day after I saw you two together. I’m assuming it’s their favourite pizza spot—you don’t really seem like the pizza type. More like a pasta guy.”  

“We both love it,” Spencer answers. “There’s no pizza like Antonios—not where we live, anyway. It’s the middle ground between Quantico and Arlington, so there’s not a whole lot to do unless you drive either way.”  

“Antonios makes a good pizza,” Rossi nods.  

“Their pasta is better,” Hotch interjects. Spencer shakes his head, tries to go back to the book that’s sitting on the table in front of him but fails miserably, waits for the fifteen minutes til the jet lands to be done whilst the rest of the team talks amongst themselves.  

The second the jet lands, as he’s walking out of it, he dials your number and you pick up on the first ring.  

“Spencer Walter Reid, light of my life and giver of astoundingly lovely forehead kisses, please tell me you’ve landed,”  

Spencer laughs. “Just did,” he says. “The team knows about us now, by the way—I smiled when you texted and that lead to Derek questioning me, so there’s that. Also, if the good news is what I think it is, Rossi wants to hold a celebration dinner as an excuse to meet you. He fronted it with our engagement first, but I think he’s just shocked we’ve kept each other under wraps that long.”  

“You like Megatrons name?” You ask, giggling a bit, seemingly in spite of yourself. “I’m sorry, Spence—I'm hyper as hell, bouncing off the walls type. I’m going to open a bottle of wine, see if it calms me down a little. Get home as fast as you can, though! I miss your handsome face!”  

“Just gotta finish a file or two and then I’ll be home,” he says. “If you order the pizza now, I’ll only be like, five minutes late—the pizza won’t be scalding, like it usually is because of their ridiculously well-working warmer bags.”  

“I love you, Spence,” you say, tone turning a little serious. “Get home safe, please.”  

“I will,” Spencer nods. “You okay?”  

“Hyper but yearning,” you laugh. “I just miss you, ‘s all.”  

“I miss you too,” he says. “I’ll be home in forty minutes, tops. I promise.”  

The phone call ends, and he doesn’t miss the knowing smiles that are on Derek and Rossis faces. JJ is looking at him mildly confused as the tone of the conversation changed near it’s end, but he doesn’t want to explain, and so he chooses not to say anything.  

He goes back into the office, completes what remains of the files he has to work on, and after he submits the paperwork in to Hotch, he just about speed walks out of the office, toward the elevators.  

Derek is leaving at the same time as he is. “Goin’ home to Megatron and the singular person who’s managed to keep up with you for the past decade?” He asks teasingly as the doors close.    

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “I know you guys will tease me about it til the end of my time here, but—yeah. I get to go home to a stray cat the love of my life probably found in the parking lot of a Joanns, and the love of my life themself.”  

“I’m all done with my teasing, for now,” Derek says. “I’m just a little confused—why'd you keep them from us for this long?”  

“I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “When we’d first started dating, they’d just started out with the Marshals and they were scared having a partner in the FBI would get them special treatment, and then, when the stuff with Tobias Hankel happened and I got into Dialudid, I was scared that I’d make an enemy and then they’d find out about Y/N and use them to hurt me, and it just—we’re the quiet type, so we had reasons til we stopped needing them. I was going to tell you guys before we got engaged, but stuff has just kept happening so quickly in these past couple of years, and it’s kept slipping my mind.”  

Derek shrugs, but smiles understandingly. “I get it,” he says. “Lookin’ forward to that dinner Rossi is planning, though. I can’t wait to meet the singular person who probably would let you talk their ear off because they find you handsome or like your voice or something else that’s really sweet. You have a good night, Spence.”  

The elevator dings and the doors open, and the two leave separately. Spencer drives a little above the speed limit in the interest of getting home, which isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do but is doing that night because it’s been a week since you’d last seen each other and he misses you like mad.  

When he inserts his key into the lock, unlocks the door and steps inside, he’s not filled with dread or fear or anxiety or loneliness or anything like that—instead, it feels like exactly what it’s supposed to.  

As he steps out of his shoes, hangs his bag on the coat rack and hears the sound of your laugh, he registers just how much the place he calls home feels like the word used to describe it.  

As he greets you with a hug and a few kisses to the forehead, it feels so much like home that it almost causes an ache in his chest. As you tell him about your promotion from Deputy to Chief Deputy and he hears Megatron the cat meow for the first time, happiness swells within him. Home, for the first time in his life, truly feels like a home. A place where he can unwind and be with those he truly loves, a place in which happiness is practically never-ending.  

Going home has never felt so good as going home to you, and Spencer is unsure anything will ever beat it.  

[you-aint-gotta-pray-for-me]

Hell on Earth: Chapter 2

Masterlist

words: 2.5k

pairing: Steve Harrington x ex-friend!Henderson!reader (eventually romantic)

summary: With no word on the whereabouts of Barbara Holland, an unlikely friendship forms as a result of shared desperation and a need for answers.

timeline: set in season one right after Will goes missing

warnings: language, bending of canon, fic from reader's pov (3rd person will be there as well, will warn before a pov change if there is one)

a/n: 2nd chapter let's go!!! steve and (y/n) interaction yay, and we make a new friend so double yay to that, if you haven't read chapter 1 yet, now's the time babes. happy reading!

Reader POV

I wish I could say my night ended after I met Barb. I really do. Instead, I found my idiot brother’s bed empty when I got home, meaning he was out and about at midnight after I explicitly told him not to. I mean, I did expect this, so I don’t even know why I was disappointed. I groaned at the fact that I’d have to drive all the way back and look for him in the woods. Responsibility is kind of a bitch. Just as I was leaving my house to get to my car, I heard a window close shut. Busted. 

“Dustin Henderson. I gave you ONE job!”

Dustin froze mid-step, halfway through pulling off his sneakers. His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” I said, crossing my arms. “What were you thinking? It’s the middle of the night! Where were you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me. “Nowhere. Just… hanging out.”

“In the woods?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow. “At midnight?”

“Okay, fine!” he blurted, hands shooting up defensively. “I don’t know what you expected me to do, (y/n),” he argued.“I couldn’t just sit here doing nothing.”

I sighed in defeat and looked away. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing of importance. Just useless stuff, the usual.” Lies. Complete lies. I see right through you, Dustin Henderson. 

I nodded, faking satisfaction at his miserable attempt at convincing me. 

“Go to bed. And if I catch you sneaking around next time,” I warned, hoping he took the hint. 

“Yeah, yeah. Wait that just means I don’t have to get caught.”

“Dustin.”

“I’m out.” 

I stood there for a moment, watching as Dustin disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him with the kind of finality that made it clear I wasn’t getting anything else out of him tonight. Typical. 

I headed to my room and locked the door, but sleep didn’t come easily. My mind was already racing with a million little things that were troubling me. No word of what happened to Will, the cycle on Mirkwood, Dustin’s terrible attempt at lying, Barb all alone. It was all too sudden, you know? It feels like a premonition. Something waiting to go wrong. I guess I’ll just have to see. 

~

The next morning at school, I was still in a fog when I rounded the corner to my locker and nearly walked straight into Steve. Of course, that’d happen, seeing how the universe loves me.

“Watch it, nimrod,” he said, walking past me and not even turning around to look at who he almost bumped into. The audacity of some people, I swear to god.

I shot him a glare and replied with the fakest sincerity I could muster. “I’m sorry, your highness. I didn’t see you there.” 

He turned around when he heard my voice. “Oh, you,” he muttered like he was finally registering who I was.

I raised an eyebrow. “Disappointed to see me, yeah?”

He winced. “No, I didn’t- wait, no, that didn’t come out right. What I meant was... I didn’t know it was you, okay? We haven’t- I’ve mis- I, uh,”

“Just watch where you’re going, Harrington.”

“Oh, we’re on a last-name basis now?”

“We’re on a no-name basis now. Leave me alone.” As much fun as it used to be, the banter and the back and forth, he wasn’t the same guy anymore. And as much as I missed him, I was not giving him the satisfaction of being in my company.

“I was looking for you,” he blurted, with a sudden seriousness in his voice while walking back toward where I was standing. Wait, what? 

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure you have the right person? My name is (Y/n). (Y/n).”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Come on.” 

“I’m sorry I just thought you wouldn’t remember who I was. It’s not like we’re friends, right?” I asked, mentally shuddering at how cold that sounded. Damn, (y/n), didn’t know you had it in you. 

Steve hesitated, visibly uncomfortable with my bluntness, but he didn’t back down. “Look, I know things between us aren’t… I’m not a uh,” he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “But that’s not exactly what I wanted to talk about.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “Oh? And what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Look, I know you’re mad at me and all. But is throwing my gift to you in my swimming pool really the best course of action? I mean, it’s a low blow, don’t y-”

“Back up, what?”

“Your copy of The Shining. I found it in my pool this morning.” 

Steve handed me a soggy, waterlogged book, the edges curling up like it had just been through a hurricane. The familiar cover, the same one I had given to Barb the night before, was barely recognizable beneath the damage.

My fingers froze on the wet, warped pages. I stared at him, then back at the book, trying to make sense of what was happening. “What the hell, Steve?” I muttered, still in disbelief as I skimmed through the damp pages. My mind raced. Barb. That was the same damn book I’d handed her.

“Okay, judging by your reaction I am going to guess you did not put it there, which means you either lost it, which I get, you know, common mistake, or you gave it to someone, which I have to admit, hurts a little bi-”

“Steve shut up.”

“Okay,” Steve muttered, clearly thrown off by my reaction.

The hallway was nearly empty, the only sound being the faint hum of lockers creaking and students murmuring in the distance. It felt strangely quiet, like time had slowed for just a moment. I wasn’t sure if it was the empty space or just the gravity of the situation, but my stomach tightened.

“When did you find it?”

“This morning. Why, what’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed, and for once, he wasn’t smirking or trying to play it off. Something in his tone shifted- he seemed genuinely concerned now.

“I gave this to Barb,” I said, my voice quieter this time, more uncertain. I didn’t know why, but my stomach dropped even lower. Something didn’t sit right.

“Nancy’s friend Barb?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes,” I answered, frustration creeping in. “Was she there when Nancy left this morning?” My voice came out almost in a whisper, like I was afraid of the answer.

“No, Nancy left last night. Alone. I just assumed she left a bit before.” 

“Only she didn’t leave. She was waiting for Nancy.”

“Wait, Nancy mentioned something. She called the Hollands this morning.”

“And?”

“I don’t think Barb went home last night.” Steve’s response felt like a punch to the gut. Barb never came home. I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. Something was off– way off– and now, it seemed like we were all tangled up in something bigger than either of us realized.

“(Y/n), is everything okay?”

“Steve, I think Barb’s missing.”

~

I raced home after school as soon as I could. I tried Holland’s place once more just for good measure. No luck. This meant that Barb really was missing, and just the thought made me shudder. How long after I left did she go missing? Was she in danger? Could I have stopped it if I had waited a little longer? Worse, Could it have been me? 

The only way I was getting any answers was if I went looking for it, and the only way for me to do that was to start by asking someone who may already have some.

I hesitated for a moment, then dialed Nancy’s number.

“Yeah, Is this the Wheeler’s? I’m looking for Nancy.”

“This is Nancy. Who am I speaking with?”

“Nancy, hey, this is (Y/n) from school,” I said, trying my best not to sound as awkward as I felt. How are you supposed to keep it together while talking to someone you’ve never talked to before? God. I was just happy this was happening over the phone.

“Oh! Hey, how can I help you?” she asked, trying her best to sound less confused.

“Yeah, listen,” I cleared my throat. “Have you heard from Barb lately? I– I’ve been trying to reach her, but no one seems to know where she is. I just... I’m really worried.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“No, I haven’t.” Nancy’s voice grew more serious. “(Y/n), I think Barb’s missing. I’ve been trying to get some answers, but so far everything’s a dead end.”

I felt a wave of relief mixed with dread. At least I wasn’t the only one worried.

“Yeah, I was kind of hoping you’d know something I didn’t,” I said quietly. 

“Do you know anything? When was the last you heard from her?”

I debriefed her about the notes, the pool, and the book and caught her up until this morning, and to my horror, Nancy Wheeler, who I had had a full conversation with barely 2 times before today broke down crying over the phone. I was not trained for this. Oh God. 

“This was my fault. This was all my fault. I–”

“Nancy–  Nancy, breathe.”

“I mean, what was I thinking? I forced her to come, I just– I– Oh, god. I did this. I–”

I rushed to calm her down, my heart pounding. Nancy’s voice was cracking, like it was going to break any second, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was feeling right now. But I had to try. Barb was missing. That was the real thing to focus on, not guilt. Because if both of us go down that rabbit hole, there was no coming out.

“Nancy, listen to me,” I said, trying to steady my own breathing. “It’s not your fault. You had a momentary lapse. It’s fine. It happens. We don’t know what really happened yet. We’re going to figure this out. We’ll find her. Okay? Breathe.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from her end, followed by a shaky sigh. She tried to compose herself, but it was clear how rattled she was.

“I just… I should’ve told her to stay home. I should’ve done something.” She sniffled, and it twisted something inside me hearing her so vulnerable.

“You can’t change what happened,” I said, my voice firm, even though I was feeling just as lost as she was. “But you can help find her now. That’s what matters.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could hear her trying to pull herself together.

“Right,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, but still full of that underlying resolve I’d come to recognize. “Right. We need to find Barb. That’s what matters.”

“Exactly.” I took a deep breath, mentally bracing myself. “Now, do you know anyone who might have seen her? Or... anything that could help?”

“I’m trying to put the pieces together,” Nancy said, her tone more controlled now, though it still held a hint of fear. “But I need someone to help me look into it. If you’re serious about this, I could use the extra set of eyes.”

“I’m in,” I said, without hesitation. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“I’m glad you called,” Nancy whispered. “I don’t know what to do without someone else to help me right now.”

“I’ve got your back,” I said, my voice steady, even though my insides were churning. “Let’s go get Barb home.”

There was a pause before Nancy spoke again, her voice determined now. “We will. We have to.”

~

I didn’t get much sleep after my call with Nancy. Between replaying her words and trying to piece together Barb’s last known whereabouts, my brain was in overdrive. By the time I got to school the next morning, I was running on nothing but adrenaline and bad coffee.

Nancy was waiting by her locker when I arrived, looking just as sleep-deprived as I felt. Her eyes were red, like she’d spent most of the night crying, but there was a new resolve in her expression.

“Hey,” she said quietly when she saw me.

“Hey,” I replied, matching her tone. “Any updates?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “No. But I have an idea.”

I leaned against the locker next to hers, crossing my arms. “I’m listening.”

“Jonathan said Mrs Byers thinks a creature took Will. Something not human.”

“That’s… concerning.”

Nancy glanced around, lowering her voice. “Get this. Jonathan was taking pictures at Steve’s party that night.”

I frowned. “Jonathan? What was he doing at the party?”

“Unimportant. The point is, we have pictures,” she said, hoping I’d pick up on what she was implying. 

“Wait, that’s great, if Barb went missing the same way Will did, that might tell us something.”

“Exactly. As soon as we piece them together, we may actually have something.”

“Why are they in pieces?” I asked, confused.

“Fine, if you must know, Jonathan took some compromising pictures of me that may or may not have ended up in Steve’s hands which resulted in, well, these,” she said, pointing to the torn pictures, “and a broken camera.”

“... My God.”

Nancy’s words hung in the air like the aftermath of a storm, her cheeks faintly flushed with embarrassment. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, avoiding my gaze for a moment before forcing herself to look up.

“I know how it sounds,” she added quickly, her voice edged with defensiveness, “but he wasn’t being a creep. Not really. He’s just— he was trying to figure out what happened to Will. He thought… I don’t know. Maybe the pictures could help.”

The weight of her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “You really think it’ll show that thing?”

“I think it’s the only real lead we’ve got.” Her voice was firm now, steady despite the emotion flickering in her red-rimmed eyes. “But I wanted to tell you first. Before we did anything with them.”

I crossed my arms, taking a deep breath. The logical part of me screamed this was messy, risky, and wrong. But the desperate part of me, the part that wanted answers just as much as she did, couldn’t ignore the possibility.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Nancy exhaled, relief softening her features for the briefest of moments before she handed me the torn photos. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I swear, we’ll make this right.”

And as I held the pieces in my hands, I realized we were both in way over our heads—but at least we weren’t alone.

[schrodingerspsycho]

From the Dead - Chapter 1

Warnings - None

Word Count - 4.8k

Summary - Twelve years after the events of The Dirt Under Your Nails, Caitlyn discovers that Jinx is still alive.

Author's Note - I used names from League of Legends, but I have never played the game. I did a few brief searches on the wiki, but I don't know anything more. I wasn't going for accuracy, I was just looking for things that fit my story. Also, if you read my drabble about CaitVi's fan kid, I did change his name. Now that season two is out, I feel like this was more fitting.

“You be a good boy for mommy while I’m gone, okay?” Caitlyn said as Jaydin hugged her tighter. She felt the wetness of his tears as he buried his face in her neck, and it was a struggle not to cry herself. The last time she had to travel for work he had barely been old enough to comprehend what was happening, but he knew exactly what was going on now. After a few more moments he let go of her, only to latch onto her leg as she stood to face Vi.

“Stay safe, Cupcake,” she said as she took her hand.

“It’s only a diplomatic mission. The only thing I’ll be in danger of is overeating at the hotel breakfast buffet,” Caitlyn chuckled. “You don’t need to worry about me, love.”

“When has that ever stopped me?”

“Fair point,” Caitlyn smiled as she leaned in to kiss her wife. Then they broke apart a second later when Cleo began cooing in Vi’s arms.

“She’s saying she’ll miss you,” Vi smiled.

“Awwww, I’ll miss you too,” Caitlyn said, leaning down to cover her baby’s head with kisses. Cleo giggled with delight and tried to grab Caitlyn’s hair. “I’m going to miss all three of you.”

“We’re gonna miss you too,” Vi said sadly. Caitlyn mirrored her expression and pulled her in for a hug.

“I love you, Mama,” Jaydin said, his voice sounding just as small as he was.

“I love you too, baby,” she smiled, crouching down to ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead. He gave her a tearful smile.

“Have a good trip, Cait,” Vi said, her voice gravelly. “I love you.”

She stood up and put her hand on Vi’s cheek, and Vi eagerly leaned into it. The tears in her eyes were more poorly concealed than Caitlyn’s. “I love you too. I’ll only be gone a week, I’ll be back home before you know it.”

“I sure hope so.”

Caitlyn pulled her in for another kiss, and they lingered much longer for this one. Then the horn sounded from the caravan on the street and Caitlyn pulled away with a sigh. “The airship’s going to leave without me if I don’t go now.”

“Bye, Mama,” Jaydin sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. She ruffled his hair again and kissed the three of them on their foreheads.

“I love all of you so much. I’ll see you in a week, my babies.”

“Alright, get out of here,” Vi said playfully. She took Jaydin’s hand and pulled him away slowly so Caitlyn could get her suitcase. “You gotta catch your flight, you know the others can’t do anything without you.”

“I hope that won’t be the case here,” she joked, finally walking toward the caravan. “Goodbye!”

And with a chorus of waves and goodbyes behind her, Caitlyn got in and they drove away. Some of her coworkers shared anecdotes about missing their families too, but she barely heard them. She was in work mode now, and she had more than just diplomacy on her mind. It wasn’t anything concrete, anything certain. But it was the most promising lead she’d found since she started her search. After twelve long years, she’d almost given up hope. But if the tip she got was right, then their lives would be changed forever. And she hoped with everything she had that it would be for the better.

“I need a drink.”

Already halfway through the trip and nothing was going according to plan. The trail had gone cold almost as soon as Caitlyn had begun asking questions, and the dealings with the Shuriman government had proven more difficult than she’d anticipated. It was nothing she couldn’t schmooze her way through of course, but it was stressful nonetheless.

Steb accompanied her as she found her way to a seedy bar on the outskirts of the city. If there was one bit of undercity knowledge that Vi had made sure she learned, it was where to find the cheapest drinks. She could easily afford the pricier stuff at the hotel bar, of course, and a decade ago she would have gone back with the rest of her coworkers and done just that. But the drinks always tasted better in places like this, and she had come to discover that the atmosphere did well to put her mind at ease. More at ease than the fancy hotel did, anyway.

“Is this a brainstorming drink or a distraction drink?” Steb asked.

“Distraction.” Caitlyn hardly glanced at him as she sat down and waved the bartender over. “A whiskey, please, and a dark ‘n’ stormy for him. And two of whatever your specialty cocktail is.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to buy my drinks?”

“I don’t know, when are you going to start letting me?”

“You’re my boss, Caitlyn. It’s unprofessional.”

“Screw professional. We were friends before I hired you, weren’t we?”

“Only because you were my boss when we were enforce-”

“Weren’t we?” Caitlyn cut him off with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He rolled his eyes and smiled back at her.

“Yeah, we were.”

“Then here’s to two friends enjoying the wonders of the Sun Disc.” She raised her glass before downing her whiskey. “Before we have to figure out how to convince emperor Azir to agree to the new trade deal.”

“He’d be a fool not to take it. I mean it’s practically a steal! They just don’t like it because we’re changing it.”

“Exactly! But they should expect that when they trade with the City of Progress. Piltover is built on our efforts to change things for the better.”

“A distraction drink that turns into a brainstorming drink. My favorite kind,” Steb joked.

“Shut up,” Caitlyn grinned. “I don’t want to talk about work. I just want to relax and enjoy… whatever this is.” She held up the cocktail, which was bright orange and had a tentacle sticking out of it. Steb picked his up and clinked his glass against hers.

“To drinking.”

She laughed. “To drinking.”

An hour and one Vastayan cocktail courtesy of Steb later, Caitlyn was ready to head back to the hotel. Her mind was buzzing, teetering on the precipice between tipsy and drunk. So she almost didn’t register what she saw.

But that blue hair was unmistakable.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered, almost too quiet for Steb to hear. “It’s her!” She tore across the bar, nearly tripping over a few chairs as she made her way to where she was laughing with one of the other patrons. “Jinx!”

She turned around, the confusion on her face quickly turning to shock and fear. “Caitlyn?”

“It’s really you,” she gasped. “I can’t believe it, it’s really you!”

Jinx glanced around before locking eyes with Caitlyn and shaking her head. “Not here.” She grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the door. “You paid your tab, right?”

“Yes, but… what are you-?”

“I said, not here. Come on.”

So with one final glance at Steb, she followed Jinx out into the night as she darted into the alleyway and cut her way through the town. For a moment Caitlyn was transported back to the day she’d first met her sister; it seemed neither of them were very good at making sure she was keeping up. At least the wind stinging her face was helping sober her up a bit. That and the life-altering revelation that Jinx was still alive. Thankfully Steb knew the protocol for this unlikely situation- tail her and stay out of sight.

Caitlyn had no idea where they were going. The roads had so many twists and turns, and Jinx was twisting and turning even more. She was sure they’d doubled back on themselves at least three times by now. But just as she was about to ask where they were going, she realized they’d arrived at a row of houses carved into the face of a cliff. Jinx finally slowed to a walk and made her way to the house at the end of the row. She unlocked the door and held it open for Caitlyn, who couldn’t think to do anything but walk in.

“Sorry, I would just rather have this conversation in private. Welcome!” Jinx said awkwardly. “Oh wait, give me a second. I-I wasn’t expecting to have guests.”

Caitlyn stared around in awe as Jinx hurried to clean up the various wrenches, paint brushes, and take-out containers that were strewn around the room. She had a plush purple couch and a matching armchair, and a mahogany coffee table that Caitlyn could tell wasn’t cheap. But the most eye-catching thing in the room was the mural that she had painted on the wall. She had painted her and Vi running hand in hand with matching grins on their faces. Isha was running in between them, and she appeared to be laughing as she gazed up at Jinx. Silco was above her and Vander was above Vi, both of them smiling down at the girls. Sevika and Ekko were painted next to Jinx, and she knew the two boys next to Vi had to be Mylo and Claggor. And there were two more people in between Silco and Vander, a man with brown hair and a woman with a purple braid. But they were painted much smaller and looked intentionally faded, and they had no discernible facial features. It wasn’t as realistic as Ekko’s mural at the old Firelight base, but she���d never seen a painting that looked so full of life.

“There we go! Now we can talk,” Jinx said. “You can sit down if you want. Or maybe you don’t want to sit down. I don’t know, this isn’t really how I thought this would go… but you’re here now! So, I’m, uh… I’m guessing you have questions?”

“Of course I do, I-I can’t believe you’re alive! How are you still alive?”

“Vander saved me.” Jinx shrugged and flopped down into her armchair. “He pushed me right after I pulled the pin, and I used my shimmer speed to make it to the vents.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s incredible!” Caitlyn sat on the edge of the couch cushion, and she could feel tears in the corner of her eye. “And have you just been here this whole time?”

“Well, I traveled around for a few years at first, but yeah. I decided to settle down here. It’s a nice place.”

“Why didn’t you tell Vi?” Caitlyn asked, her voice quavering as she tried not to sound accusing. “She thought you were dead this whole time! We all did!”

“I know. I-I’m sorry. But I knew it would be better that way. I needed a fresh start so that I could figure out who I was again. I needed to walk away, and Vi never would’ve let me. Not really. And it was better for her too, I mean her entire personality has been about protecting me since she was four years old. Me dying was the only way she would start living for herself. And for you.”

“That’s… actually really sweet,” Caitlyn said softly. “But it’s been twelve years. Were you ever planning on telling her?”

“Yes, of course I was! I-I still do. It’s just the thought of going back there is so hard, and then the more time passes the worse it gets. Then I started to build a life here, and that just gave me another reason not to leave. And you guys have your own lives now!” Jinx insisted, gesturing to the wedding ring on Caitlyn’s finger. “I don’t want to mess everything up again.”

“I promise you, you won’t,” Caitlyn reassured her gently. “I would never want to take you away from your life here, and neither would she. But Vi deserves to know that you’re still alive. After everything you two have been through together. You can’t imagine how much she misses you.”

“I think I probably can,” Jinx said sadly, hugging her knees to her chest. “I’ve missed her too. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Then come back with me,” Caitlyn beseeched. “For a bit, at least. And see her again. She’ll be beyond overjoyed to see you, Jinx. She won’t hold it against you. You both deserve to have each other in your lives.”

Jinx turned away from her at that.

“And you deserve to meet your niece and nephew.”

“Wait, what? Y-you guys have kids?”

“We do,” Caitlyn smiled. “A little boy and a baby girl.” She made sure to pull her wallet out of her pocket slowly. Then she held out the pictures and Jinx sat next to her on the couch. “This is Jaydin, our oldest,” she said, pointing to the picture of him lying on Vi’s chest and waving a toy in the air. Their grins were so wide she could almost hear them laughing through the picture. Jinx took it gingerly, and she looked like she could hear it too. “He’s four years old now. And this is Cleo. She turns one in a couple of months.” She handed her the photo of Cleo too, the one of her sleeping in her crib a few months after she was born. Caitlyn had seen these pictures thousands of times, and they never failed to put a smile on her face.

“They’re beautiful,” Jinx said in awe.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said proudly. “Jaydin would be so excited to meet you. His favorite bedtime stories are the ones Vi tells about you. You’re practically a superhero to him.”

“I bet she has to make up a lot of them,” Jinx chuckled humorlessly.

“Not as much as you’d think.”

Jinx was silent for a long moment, never taking her eyes off the pictures. Caitlyn watched her curiously as she slowly relaxed and leaned back into the couch. “Jaydin’s hair… it’s the same color as Mom’s,” she mumbled.

“Vi said the same thing,” Caitlyn nodded. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do, of course. But please, at least consider coming back with me. Here, I’ll write down the name of the hotel I’m staying in,” she said, taking out her notepad and pen. If Jinx agreed, Vi would never tease her for carrying them again. “I’ll be here for three more days. There will be a guard posted at the hotel, but I’ll let them know to look out for you. I can be in contact as much or as little as you want me to be.”

“Can I keep these?” Jinx asked after a moment, finally looking up at Caitlyn. “I-I promise I’ll give them back before you leave. It’s just… it’s nice to have something of her again.”

“Of course you can,” Caitlyn smiled. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Jinx. Well, okay, maybe just a little. But I sincerely hope you’ll come back to Zaun with me. Vi isn’t the only one who misses you. Ekko and Sevika would love to have you in their lives again too.”

“You know Sevika?”

“I do. She’s on the council, so I work with her pretty often.”

“She’s on the council?” Jinx smirked. “Good for her. I can’t think of a better person to represent Zaun.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Things really have changed since I left, huh?”

“They have. Mostly for the better. I think you would be proud of all the progress we’ve made.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty incredible if I do say so myself. And Vi talks all the time about how much you would love it.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah I bet she does.” Jinx stood up suddenly and walked toward the corner of the room, the photos clutched delicately in her hands. She let out a sigh that turned into a sniffle, and Caitlyn looked away respectfully.

“Well, I should get out of your hair. I don’t want to disturb you any more than I already have,” she said, leaving the note with her information on the coffee table. “Please think about it. Vi probably won’t believe me if you aren’t there with me. But there aren’t words for how happy she’ll be to find out that you’re alive.”

“I will,” Jinx said softly, turning to face her after a moment of silence. “It was, uh… it was nice to see you, Caitlyn.”

Without thinking Caitlyn hurried over to her. Jinx flinched but didn’t back away, and Caitlyn reached out to her cautiously. When she didn’t react she threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “I can’t say how happy I am to see you, Jinx. I always thought there was a chance you’d made it out, and I’ve never been so glad to be right about anything.”

Jinx stood frozen in shock at first, but she slowly put her arms around Caitlyn and relaxed into her touch. “I’m glad you were right too.”

“Well, I should probably head back now. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” Jinx said, stepping back and glancing away awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you find your way back to your hotel?”

“Oh no, that’s alright. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble, really.”

“I’m sure. I actually enjoy finding my way around unfamiliar cities.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Vi and I love doing it whenever we travel together. We’ll just wander aimlessly, exploring the city. We’ve found some of our favorite shops and restaurants that way.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds fun,” Jinx smiled. “I guess I’ll see you around, then. Good luck with… whatever you’re here for.”

“Thank you, Jinx. I’ll see you soon.”

And with a nod and an awkward wave, Caitlyn left. The sky was even darker now as she made her way to the end of the neighborhood, the cool night air carrying the sounds of the bustling city ahead.

“There you are,” Caitlyn said as Steb stepped out of an alleyway a few blocks from Jinx’s house.

“Was it really her?”

“It was,” Caitlyn grinned. “After all this time. It’s really her.”

“She sure looks different,” Steb commented.

“She does. I think the years have been good to her,” Caitlyn said softly.

“Is she going to come back with us?”

“I don’t know, she said she’d think about it. But I really hope she does.”

Caitlyn sighed as she picked up her suitcase off the ground. She and Steb had waited in the hotel lobby for as long as they could, but the airship was at the dock now. They had to go.

“Dammit,” Caitlyn lamented. “I really thought she would come.”

“Sorry, Captain.” Steb put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But hey, at least you know she’s alive now. And once you tell Vi, you two will be back here before she can say ‘boom’.”

“That’s true,” Caitlyn said with a small smile. “She made the fatal mistake of showing me where she lives. She’ll see Vi again whether she wants to or not. But I know she does.”

“Who knows what’s going on inside her head?” Steb shrugged. “But right now we need to worry about you seeing Vi again. C’mon, Captain, the airship’s gonna leave without us.”

“Alright.” They left the hotel and headed toward the dock, the city seeming less beautiful to Caitlyn than when she’d arrived. She was once again consumed by her thoughts, this time a question. How the hell was she going to tell Vi?

“Hey! Caitlyn!” She heard a familiar voice call. “Wait up!”

“Jinx?” She turned to see Jinx running toward her, carrying a large backpack and waving eagerly. “Jinx! You’re here! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Yeah, me too. I’m glad I caught you in time to return these,” she said, pulling Caitlyn’s pictures out of her jacket pocket. “I told you I’d give them back.”

“Oh.” Caitlyn took the pictures and hung her head in disappointment. “Thanks.”

“Of course. And thank you for letting me hold on to them. Having them for a little bit… it was nice.”

“You really won’t come back with me?” Caitlyn pleaded.

“I would if I could. But I would have to reschedule my meetings with my clients and cancel my plans, so…”

“I understand. But we’ll be back here soon. You know Vi-”

“That won’t be necessary.” 

“What?”

“I’m just messin’ with you, Piltie! Of course, I’m coming with you!” Jinx cheered. “I’ve been working my ass off to get all my appointments out of the way. I’m all yours!”

“Alright, you got me,” Caitlyn laughed, relieved. 

“Well you were so desperate for me to come along, I couldn’t not have a little fun.”

“Oh, I’m so happy! Vi will be thrilled!”

“I can’t wait to see her,” Jinx beamed. “And to meet Jaydin and Cleo! I mean, who am I to deny them the chance to meet me?”

“Good to see your sense of humor is still intact,” Caitlyn smirked. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s,” she agreed, falling into step beside Caitlyn. She waved at Steb and he nodded back at her. “And I do mean it, by the way. I’m so excited to meet your kids.”

“I’m excited for you to meet them, too,” Caitlyn smiled.

Jinx was silent as they made their way onto the airship, just giving shy smiles to everyone who looked at her and following close behind Caitlyn. Some of the other officers began whispering when they saw her, but Caitlyn shut them up with a glare.

“This is my cabin. You can stay here during the flight,” she said as she welcomed Jinx in. “It’s about a four-hour trip, but I’ll be going over things with my team for most of it. But we have attendants that can give you anything you need, and you can always come get me if you need to.”

“Thanks. Wow, this place is nice,” Jinx said as she gazed around the cabin. “I’ve never been on an airship this big.”

“Well, welcome aboard,” Caitlyn smiled. “Is there anything I can do for you before I get back to work?”

“There is one thing,” she said somberly, sitting down on the cot. “I want to apologize.”

“Oh,” Caitlyn said, taken aback. “I appreciate that, but you don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do,” Jinx insisted, staring up at Caitlyn. “Please.”

“Alright.” Caitlyn sat next to her and she took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for kidnapping you. And I’m sorry for killing your mom. I wasn’t thinking about the pain I was causing you and your family, or any of the people that I hurt. But that’s no excuse. I was selfish and cruel, and I deserved all the hate you felt towards me. I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make up for it. I can’t bring her back. But if I could, I would do it in a heartbeat! There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t regretted it all. And I’ve worked hard to make sure that I’m not that person anymore. I try to be better every day, I want you to know that. And I want to do whatever I can to make amends. I’m truly sorry, Caitlyn.”

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said softly. “That really means a lot.”

“I know that I don’t deserve forgiveness. Your kindness so far has been more than I would’ve hoped for. But I’m so grateful that we can be civil.”

“I’m hoping we can be more than civil,” Caitlyn smiled. “One of the many lessons I’ve learned from Vi is that the greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive. I forgave you years ago, Jinx. Now all I want to do is get to know my sister-in-law.”

Jinx looked up at Caitlyn with tears in her eyes. “You… you really mean that?”

“I do.” Caitlyn held out her arms and Jinx collapsed into her, crying openly. Caitlyn rubbed her back.

“Sorry,” Jinx said sheepishly after a moment, pulling away and wiping her eyes.

“It’s alright.”

“Y’know, I think another reason I was scared to go back is because I was afraid of facing you.”

“It’s all in the past now. I’m glad we have the chance for a fresh start.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jinx grinned.

“I really do have to get to work though.”

“Oh yes, of course, go!” Jinx waved her hand toward the door insistently. “Didn’t mean to keep you. I guess I’ll see you when we get to Piltover?”

“See you then,” Caitlyn smiled.

Jinx was quiet when they left the airship, once again content to not say anything to any of the other officers. Not that any of them were talking to her. Many of them seemed afraid of her. Or at the very least afraid of Caitlyn, who was still silently daring any of them to say something about Jinx. But once the two of them were outside and on their own, Jinx’s talkative nature returned.

“I never thought I’d say this about Piltover, but it feels good to be back,” she smirked, gazing around. “Still as shiny as ever.”

“Most of the changes we’ve made are in Zaun,” Caitlyn told her. “You’ll get to see a few of them on the way there.”

“Wait, you live in Zaun?”

“Yeah. I mean Piltover and Zaun operate as one city now, but we live on the Zaun side. And don’t worry, Vi, Ekko, and Sevika have worked to make sure that all the Zaunite charms remain.”

“That’s great,” Jinx smiled. “And how has Vi been?”

“She’s been really good,” Caitlyn beamed. “She absolutely adores being a mom. I don’t think she’s ever been happier.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. She’s made for it.”

“She really is. She goes above and beyond in every way imaginable, for them and for me. And I swear sometimes when she plays with Jaydin, she has more fun than he does,” Caitlyn laughed.

“She’s got a second chance at a childhood,” Jinx smiled sadly. “Just like Isha gave me. I’m so happy for her.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Caitlyn nodded. “And she’s making the best of it. She’s learned from all the mistakes of the past, hers and others. I think she would make all of your parents proud.”

“I’m sure she would. And what are the kids like?”

“Oh, I could go on about them for hours,” Caitlyn grinned. “But you’ll see for yourself soon enough. Cleo hasn’t said her first word yet, but she loves to talk. And she tries to grab everything she sees. She loves to copy what we’re doing, and if you make a game out of it she’ll never get bored. But don’t ever try to take a toy from her. She can scream louder than anything I’ve ever heard. And I’ve lost count of how many explosions I’ve lived through.”

“Copy that,” Jinx chuckled. “From the stories Vander told, Vi did the same thing.”

“Cleo does seem to take after her. Jaydin is a lot quieter. He’s shy around new people, but he loves to explore new places. And he’s so creative! He comes up with these elaborate backstories for all of his games, it’s incredible. And he loves to draw. Most of the artwork we have hung up is his, and we have to switch it out every couple of weeks because he’s made so many new ones. Vi says he reminds her of you in that way.”

“Yeah, that love of drawing never goes away.”

“He’s going to love drawing with you.”

“I can’t wait! They sound so amazing,” she grinned.

“They are.”

“So is Vi like a stay-at-home mom, or what? Is she still an Enforcer with you? Or a pitfighter?”

“She’s not a pitfighter anymore,” Caitlyn chuckled. “And there are no more Enforcers, actually. We worked together to dismantle the entire department and build something new. Something better. She and I are co-captains of the Preservers now. We protect all the people of Piltover and Zaun. It took a while, but most people on both sides of the bridge support our organization. Vi and I pretty much just alternate who works and who stays home with the kids.”

“Wow, that’s impressive. Definitely something Vi would come up with.”

“She always hoped you’d be proud of it.”

“Can’t wait to tell her I am.”

Their conversation faded as they crossed the bridge and Jinx’s focus turned to admiring the rebuilt city. Caitlyn stole glances at her as they walked, and pride swelled in her heart at every awed expression. But they didn’t have too far to go, and before they knew it they had arrived at the house.

“This is it,” Caitlyn said, watching Jinx carefully. “I think it’s probably best if you wait out here for a bit, so I can say hi to the kids and do what I can to prepare Vi. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good,” Jinx said without looking at her.

“It’s going to be okay. She’s your sister, after all.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… nervous.”

“You can do this, Jinx,” Caitlyn reassured her.

“Thanks,” she smiled. And with a nod, Jinx held her breath as Caitlyn slid the key into the lock.

[bassettmemes]

MY FAVORITE MAGGIE ROGERS SONGS; a sentence meme. ↳ literally just a self-indulgent meme of lyrics from my favorite songs.

"the forest is dark and i'm wide awake, not sleeping."

"the road to my heart is stark, but i'm alive."

"which way would you run if you were looking through my glass eyes?"

"i was born to daylight with twilight tangled in the sky."

"the morning light will warm my tired bones."

"say your heart, it wrote me letters all the time."

"say it sealed them up and with your breath did sign them all away."

"say that your notes, they were no forgery, you meant them every line."

"you could cut my knees and leave me at the door, i'd still pick all your memories off our dusty floor."

"tell me how you are and i'll write a song for every feeling i can't name."

"we abided by the night, but there are darker things than the absence of light."

"we don't have to talk, leave your words in the city with your heavy thoughts."

"silence lays like lace around my mind."

"can you can recall that moment at all when we warmed up way last june?"

"but now I'm sick of the silence."

"the knife of insight tore its way in me."

"don't hit me up if you're feeling down."

"would you believe me now if i told you i got caught up in a wave?"

"would you hear me out if i told you i was terrified for days?"

"i couldn't stop it, tried to slow it all down."

"if you keep reachin' out, then i'll keep coming back."

"do you believe me now that i always had the best intentions, babe?"

"i'm praying to the headlights like i prayed to you."

"roll the windows down, kill the radio, i'd rather hear the wind than hear that song I'm supposed to know."

"you tell me that forever couldn't come too soon, i wanna lose my mind in a hotel room with you."

"all i've ever wanted is to make something fucking last."

"i started out trying to do what's right and lost it all in the middle of the night."

"one of these days, i'm gonna wake up smiling."

"remember the days we used to drive upstate singing indie-rock songs in the car."

"i was all the way in, you were halfway out the door."

"you were an animal making your way up the hill and i was going in for the kill."

"so you think you're on the right track, cruising on the bridge in your gray cadillac."

"you think it's easy? walking on the water like there's stepping stones."

"i'm so sick of dreaming."

"if you think that life without me's like a heart attack, take a long look in the mirror and be good with that."

"i could be your heron blue sky, i could be your white night lullaby."

"the hindsight's been the hardest part."

"cause i remember late september, your silhouette on blue wallpaper."

"you drew the line and pulled me under, but do you ever stop to wonder about me?"

"all of the things we pulled apart, i let it go, it doesn't matter."

"the seasons changed, it broke my heart."

" i will always remember you when we were dancing in the living room."

"i see it now who i was back then, so young and hungry."

"you loved me strong, and you were my friend when the world felt empty."

"i remember sentimental sleepless nights, i set the table, and just waited."

"i would have given every song i've ever written just to spend one day with you."

" when you think of me completely, i hope it doesn't freak you out."

"when you love somebody new, i hope you say it out loud."

[dragonfly0808]

The Original Ending of S3

So, we all know that s3 was brutal, it was filled with tragedy, angst and just, a lot of stuff went down that the squad is still working through HOWEVER there is one thing that I changed my mind on around halfway through the season, and that is… the ending

So here, I’ll be explaining what the original ending of s3 was supposed to be and why I changed it, obviously MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3

Bloom’s Enchantix and Valtor’s fate were the 2 things that were mainly changed.

Originally, Bloom wasn’t going to get her Enchantix until the final battle against the Ancestral Witches.

Essentially what was going to happen was that, Valtor was going to use his connection to the Ancestral Witches to trap them in his own body and tell Bloom to kill him, this was going to happen close to some kind of lava pit created during the battle.

Bloom would stab him in the heart but, in a last desperate attempt, the Witches take control of Valtor for just long enough to snap Bloom’s neck.

Bloom gains Enchantix and, after being confused for a second, as Valtor (now back in control and telling her to let him fall into the pit since she won’t let go) falls into the pit, she’d realize that killing Valtor=to saving Domino.

And that chapter was going to end with the phrase “Enchantix… what a fucking joke.”

Valtor was going to die permanently and Daphne’s spirit was going to vanish.

Now… I think you can see why I chose to change this cause I love angst but this was taking it just a wee bit too far and I just couldn’t see any realistic way that Bloom would ever be able to ever recover from that, it was just too depressing.

I also grew to really love Valtor’s character and I didn’t want to only have him for a single season and felt like I could still do a lot with his character. This felt like too cruel an ending not just for Bloom but also for him and Daphne.

So… yeah… the original ending of s3 was a whole lot more traumatic than it ended up being.