#and i admit complicity because we are in fact here talking about it but at least we're attempting a rational and caring approach

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

edit : i'm sorry but this post is messy i don't like how this is the ramble that got the most attention shhffs please check out the addendum in the reblogs if you want a more clearer analysis

-

FIRST OF ALL the thing about the paint huffing - Other than that it's funny - is that we were getting ragatha at her most honest . she's more reflective and reveals her mind more which is a Lot considering that she has shown herself to be a people pleaser trying to avoid conflict . this is Literally The Last thing she wants

and honestly it would be fun to see the fallout of this in episode 5 when she would inevitably sober up and be Mortified about that fact considering she said This to gangle here

like . interesting ragatha . is that why you Do Not Stop Jax when he goes to bully gangle . other than not wanting him to hate you you also prefer it if gangle is in her tragedy state . is that it . Is That It -

also you guys don't know how much i fucking screamed at these scenes okay . there's nothing i love more than nice characters that show their less than desirable traits . my favorite thing about ragatha is not that she's a sweetheart but that she's Dishonest . even to the point that gangle mentions it in her talk with pomni

like my ongoing theory right now for the ' evil ragatha ' comment gooseworx made for episode 5 is that ragatha's going to say or do the Most Morally Ambiguous thing possible that will send the entire fandom on fire . like we're talking Arguments on whether she's in the right or wrong Even though this is a show that invites nuance instead of black and white views , and it'll be so fucking marvelous to witness

NOW . i really don't think she's faking being nice ! i believe with all my heart that ragatha's inherently Good and i will throw hands at anyone who thinks otherwise . it's just that she's just Repressing What She Thinks About The Others because , again , Avoiding Conflict ! which is shown by how annoyed she got with pomni talking to gummigoo ( gayass ) , what she said to gangle , and what she said to zooble

yes i screamed about the toybox interaction i knew that ragatha was going to not like zooble's grouchiness But I Digress .

all of this is interesting because . again , ragatha's a people pleaser trying to avoid conflict . i think her reasons for being nice and helpful are both selfless and selfish . selfless - she doesn't want anyone to go through the stress and pain of feeling alone , and selfish - she doesn't want anyone to hate her . they're like a smoothie , she's not one or the other . it's just that the latter reason ... has a lot more influences on her thought processes than she'd like to admit .

and that's showcased if you look at episode 2 with her conversation with kinger . she was worried about pomni going through something traumatizing , yes , but she added that she thinks pomni doesn't like her that much . which . it's a small piece of dialogue but it really shows how much ragatha's Gripping That Fucking Fawn Response . yes , her concern is everyone's wellbeing , but she also Would Not Like It If Anyone Hates Her , to the point that it'll stick to her . and she'll try So Hard to compensate for it .

like . she is really a nice person but she's dishonest because she doesn't want to be hated which is very much a selfish reason . she's falling into that pitfall of ' a friend to all is a friend to none ' . argh . why is she so complicated god i'm going to put her in that deepfryer again

[shina913]

A Very Patient Man | LJH

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: F2L; FWB; smut; pwp

Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; PIV sex; riding; ass smacking; dirty talk; creampie

Word count: 4.6k words

Summary: You’re frustrated because it takes you longer to reach an orgasm during sex. This has made you feel insecure, and you started to accept the fact you’d never meet someone patient enough to give you the attention you need. Your friend, Jihoon, casually offers a solution.

A/N: Idk. I slipped and fell onto my keyboard and all this horny word vomit spilled out. Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs 🤣

This is also un-beta'd so...it is what it is.

Anyway! Here’s something filthy to end the year! 💜

It started innocently enough at Jihoon’s studio. You were sitting on his couch, venting about your dating life, and as always, he listened attentively just as you do when he shares his own experiences.

However, today’s visit was different. He’s letting you ramble on about a very specific topic.

“I feel like there’s an invisible time limit on foreplay.”

Jihoon’s chair creaks as he leans back, laughing at your incredulous claim. “No, there isn’t!”

“But I really think there is!” you argue. “My last date got visibly impatient, even though I...” you inhale through your teeth, “clearly asked him for more time down there. Instead, he just said, ‘It’s been five minutes, it’s my turn now.’” You huff in annoyance.

“Well, that sucks. Did you get rid of him?”

You grimace before replying. “Please don’t judge me. He was cute, so we still fucked. My vibrator finished the job,” you admit guiltily. “I blocked him on the app afterward though.”

He sighs, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “You shouldn’t compromise on your needs. If you want more time, say so and stick with it.”

You huffed wistfully. “I just take too long. I get all panicky when someone’s been down there for longer than 5 minutes.”

“You can’t rush pleasure,” he comments.

“I know that, but now, it makes me think—how long is too long before you come? Is there a play clock winding down on the field? Do I need to call out an audible?”

He doubles over again, laughing when you start using sports metaphors.

“How can some women summon an orgasm—” you snap your fingers, “just like that?”

His laughs subside, turning more serious now. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to other people. Everybody’s different.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” you remark sarcastically.

He turns away to face his screen, adding more edits to a track he’s working on.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, shrugging in defeat. “I guess my vibrator and I are destined to spend the rest of our lives together. Might as well reserve matching burial plots.”

Jihoon snorts. “You just haven’t found the right partner. A really patient one, I might add,” he says, half-joking.

You smack him on his bicep, and your hand stings from the unexpected firmness under his oversized shirt. Has his arm always been this solid? When was the last time you touched his bicep? Wait—why are you even thinking of his bicep?

You and Jihoon have been close friends since college, maintaining a purely platonic relationship—never a hint of romance or sexual tension between you. On rare nights out, you even act as each other’s wingman, helping one another find potential dates. You two simply click on a different level—easy and no complications.

He looked up from his mixing board, turning to you with a slight smirk. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I happen to be very patient.”

The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. It was the kind of tone he used when chatting up potential conquests on your nights out.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t you dare use that Joey Tribbiani move on me.”

“It’s not a move.” He keeps his face serious, looking genuinely hurt by your comment. “You’re my friend. I wouldn’t do that to you,” he says softly. “I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to try, I’m game.” He tilts his head, giving a casual shrug. “No judgment.”

You stare at him, stunned, as his offer hangs in the air. You try to laugh it off, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

Was he seriously proposing that you two—nope! You refuse to go there. Jihoon is a great friend, and although you trust him, you’re not sure you’d be comfortable with the idea of...

You shake your head. You can’t even finish the thought. You glance at your watch for no reason at all.

“You know, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh? I thought you wanted to grab dinner?” He’s surprised and confused at your sudden change of plans.

“It’s getting late.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t that late. You feel guilty lying to your friend, but you need to escape this conversation—and this situation—as quickly as possible.

“I just got a notification from work. I need to come in early, yada-yada…You know how it is.”

He looks disappointed but doesn’t push. You gather your things, slipping your puffer jacket on, despite the room feeling several degrees warmer.

“Alright. If you’re sure—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. That came out more tersely than you initially intended. “I’m sure,” you add with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes to try and make up for it.

He rises from his seat when you do and moves in for a hug—just like he usually does. But this time, the hug feels different; you’re suddenly hyperaware of his touch, your skin tingling all over. You return his hug stiffly, without your usual warmth, then hurry out of his studio and immediately tear off your too-hot jacket.

That night, your dreams were filled with visions—his hands tracing paths across your skin, his dark head dipping between your thighs, his intense gaze meeting yours as you hovered on the edge of unbridled pleasure. The dream felt so vivid you could have sworn you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. It wasn’t until your alarm began blaring, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat, that reality came crashing back.

********************************************

A couple of days passed, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Jihoon. This wasn’t your usual “hope he remembered to eat lunch” thoughts or impulse to send him funny memes that popped up on your algorithm.

After your NSFW dream about him, you started noticing little things about him you’d never paid attention to before—the adorable way he’d scrunch up his nose while concentrating on work, how his muscles moved when he reached for something, or how the warm red studio lights perfectly highlighted his features.

You shake your head. It’s not that deep. Jihoon’s suggestion was only practical. There’s no reason to go down this rabbit hole.

Still, you can’t deny the growing curiosity gnawing at the back of your mind. You hadn’t expected his offer to affect you this way, but it does.

After days of avoiding him, you decide to invite him to dinner at your place. Maybe if you discussed this with him, the dreams and inappropriate thoughts would stop.

The moment he walks through your door, everything falls apart. You become hyper-aware of his every move. You catch yourself stealing glances when you think he isn’t looking, and you flinch whenever he gets too close.

Finally, he’s had enough.

“Okay,” he says firmly. “What’s with you? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” you lie, your heart racing. You reach for your drink and take a hefty gulp.

“Have I said or done something? You’ve flaked on me the last couple of times I asked you to go out, you’ve left me on ‘read’ more than you’ve responded...”

You felt guilty for avoiding him, but you needed that space to sort out your thoughts. Though you wanted to have this conversation, you couldn’t find the right moment to broach the topic.

“Then you invite me over, barely talk—” he continues to rant.

“It’s... it’s really more of a me-problem,” you stammer.

“Just talk to me! I can take it.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

You inwardly groan, before finally coming clean. “Remember the last time we were at your studio? I was whining about...something.”

He squinted for a bit, then you could see the recognition slowly dawning in his eyes before lowering his voice. “You mean, how you take a long time to reach an orgasm?”

You shut your eyes, mortified when he articulates it. “Yes…”

“What about it?”

“It’s not exactly about that, but it’s more about what you said after. You know—your offer to help?”

His face visibly relaxes, prompting you to continue. “Okay.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, but you push through. “Did you mean it, or were you just messing with me?”

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head, the corner of his lips quirking up. “The offer still stands, if you want it.”

You sit there chewing the inside of your cheek, feeling torn. Your brain tells you to be careful—fucking your best friend could make things weird. But your body has other ideas. The warmth pooling between your legs makes it harder to think straight.

“Are you considering it?” His voice is gentle, giving you space to choose.

You deflect, buying time to sort through your tumbling thoughts. “I’m curious... have you thought about this before? About us?”

“The idea has crossed my mind from time to time.”

His candor sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“What about you? Have you thought about us...doing things?”

You draw in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be equally honest. “I never thought of us that way before you mentioned it. But now...” you trail off, unable to verbalize how his suggestion has shifted something between you.

He inches closer, but maintains enough distance to keep you comfortable. His expression grows serious, earnest. “Listen, I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. You’re one of my best friends, and that matters more to me than anything else. If I’m out of line, just say the word and we won’t talk about it ever again.” The sincerity in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart ache. You’ve always known him to be considerate of your feelings.

“You weren’t out of line.” Hearing you say this was a huge relief to him. “But you can’t really un-ring that bell,” you add wryly.

You also couldn’t get past an earlier comment he made. “So…you’ve thought about us before?”

He takes a moment before answering. “Yeah. I mean, you’re beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you?”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment.

Your best friend has always had this effortless way about him—you’ve seen firsthand how easily he charms people during your nights out together.

Your resolve crumbles, and honestly, you’re tired of fighting it. “How are you so chill about all this?”

He laughs. “It’s sex, not rocket science.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Things won’t get weird afterward, will they?”

“Afterward? So...you’re saying you want to have sex? With me?” His eyebrows raise slightly.

You already knew the answer to that question the moment you asked him to come over. “I guess I do,” you say softly with a nervous smile, “for science?”

His sexy, throaty laugh echoes through the room.

********

You sit nervously on your couch facing each other. Since this is completely new territory for both of you, you know you need to take things slow and make sure you’re both comfortable. Gathering up the courage to agree to this experiment is the easy part, but actually getting into it?

“Just to be clear—this is a one-time thing, right?”

“Of course,” he confirms. “This is purely for educational purposes. And your pleasure.”

You scrunch your nose in protest. “That doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.” The idea of him seeing this as one-sided doesn’t sit right with you. “Shouldn’t this be mutually beneficial?”

“I never said I had to get something out of this. You want to experience an orgasm from foreplay alone, without mechanical assistance, right?”

You nod.

“Okay. So, let me focus on making that happen for you. You don’t need to think about anything else.”

You didn’t want to be selfish, but his offer was difficult to refuse.

“This is about you, not me,” he insists. His decision is firm and he wasn’t budging.

“Okay,” you relent. Fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt, you take in a deep breath and release it before muttering, “How should we do this...”

When Jihoon doesn’t immediately offer any suggestions, you think of the most natural way to start.

“Maybe we could start with kissing?”

“Right, good idea.” His voice wavers slightly, betraying that he’s just as nervous as you are despite his attempts to stay composed. Oddly, this puts you at ease—knowing you’re both on the same page, figuring this out as you go.

You both move in closer together, and time seems to slow as he leans in. Your eyes flutter shut, then his lips meet yours. They’re exactly as you’d imagined—soft, warm, and unexpectedly gentle. The kiss starts tentatively, but as your lips find their rhythm, everything feels natural.

When you break apart for a moment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re a good kisser.” You barely finish the sentence before being drawn back to his lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against your lips as you both laugh, the sounds melting into your kisses.

Your kisses grow more intense, your mouth sucking on his top lip while his tongue traces delicately along yours, building a warmth that spreads through your entire body. You fist at his shirt, bunching the fabric between your knuckles, while his hand cradles your neck, his thumb gently stroking along your pulse point.

Gradually, his kisses move from your lips, following a path along the curve of your jawline, down to the slope of your neck. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation.

He instantly pulls back, a worried look on his face. “Sorry, are you not into that?”

“No, no—I mean—Yes, I am into it. I’m just a little bit ticklish there, that’s all,” you explain.

“Oh... okay. Do you want to keep going?”

You nod, and as he leans in for another kiss but pauses when you place a hand on his chest. “You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this because we’ve been friends for so long, but I have to admit that I like it.”

“Yeah?” A smirk plays across his lips. “Tell me what else you like.” He nips at your jawline. “Or show me.”

Desire spreads through you like wildfire. This was the point of no return. You take his hands and guide them under your shirt until they cup your breasts.

“What do you want me to do?” He murmurs through your lips.

“Play with them.”

His lips capture yours again as he squeezes your breast gently.

He eases you down onto the couch, his lips trailing from yours down your neck to your sternum. When he lifts your shirt to your chest, you feel constrained and pull it off completely, tossing it aside. He follows your lead, removing his own shirt.

His skilled fingers unhook your bra and takes a nipple into his mouth while his thumb teases the other, drawing a sharp breath from you.

You run your fingers through his hair as his kisses trace down your stomach, making your back arch at the sensation against your skin.

His hands glide down your sides until they reach your jeans, where he carefully undoes the button. You hook your fingers into your waistband and start pushing your bottoms down. He helps slide them off, his touch remaining gentle but with a hint of urgency as he pulls the fabric from your legs. As the last piece of clothing falls away, the cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shiver.

One of his hands pushed between your legs, making them fall open shamelessly. His other hand continued to massage your breasts, making them unbearably sensitive. You can’t believe how slick you’d gotten in a short span of time. To think he hadn’t done much to you yet, apart from kissing you and squeezing your tits.

His gaze traveled down your body, lingering where his fingertips teased your sensitive folds. His feather-light touches made your inner walls clench with need. This only heightened your arousal, making you squirm beneath him, silently begging for more.

He slid one finger carefully into you. Your eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by your friend, kneeling on the floor beside you. “Don’t think…just feel.” You keened as Jihoon pulled out and thrust gently back into you with two fingers. You couldn’t hold back a moan.

It’s probably been a few minutes now, you’re not sure as you’ve completely lost track of time. You blink furiously in a mild panic and stare down at him, still leisurely finger-fucking you. What he was doing felt so good, but you weren’t even halfway to your peak yet. By this point, other partners would be coming up for air, wanting you to return the favor or just ready to stick their cock in to get their fill.

“Relax...” he cooed, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh. Each deliberate dip and languid curl of his skilled fingers inside you made you wetter, gradually coaxing your muscles to yield. “It’s not a race,” he reassured you softly, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll keep going until you come.”

His words of encouragement sent waves of arousal coursing through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Kiss me,” you choked out, needing to feel his lips against yours. Without hesitation, he obliged, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep kiss that made you dizzy.

Your fingers clutched desperately at the edges of your cushions, knuckles turning white from your grip as you felt that familiar sensation between your legs. “Right there. Don’t stop,” you gasped between heavy breaths, your hips bucking against his steadily thrusting fingers. The pleasure was building to an unbearable level, making you feel like you might shatter to pieces if he didn’t push you over the edge soon.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things—words you’d never heard him say to you. They revealed previously unspoken fantasies that ignited your body and overwhelmed your senses. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, wondering if this was his usual bedroom talk. But that thought slipped away as his words and actions consumed you completely. Before you realized it, you were peaking.

“I want to see what you look like when you come,” he purred. “Do you look as pretty as you do right now?” Everything tightened in your core while he kept up his ministrations in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming…”

“Don’t hold back. Let me hear you,” he urged.

You let out a strangled cry, your mind far beyond the depths of euphoria to care about being quiet or demure about this. He was mesmerized, unable to look away at the sheer pleasure that washed over you. Before you could even process what just happened, he’d already hooked your leg over the back of the couch and covered your cleft with his mouth.

He stroked your clit with his tongue, fluttering over it, building your hunger back up again. He teased your slick folds, taunting you with the promise of another orgasm—something you thought impossible to achieve so soon, yet your body responded eagerly. When his fingers pushed inside you at the same time, you had to bite your lip to stifle a scream.

You came again, your thighs trembling, tender muscles pulsing around his touch. His growl vibrated through you. You didn’t have the strength to push him away when he returned to your clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…but now you wanted more. You needed to feel him.

You manage to sit up and squeeze his shoulder to get his attention. He peers up at you from between your thighs.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Already?” He smiles, teasing you with painfully slow strokes of his fingers. “Pretty sure I can get another one out of you,” he says cockily.

“Lee Jihoon—I. Am asking you. To fuck. Me,” you punctuated. “Will you do it or not?”

He sits up, turning sheepish all of a sudden. “I, uhm…didn’t expect us to be doing this, so I didn’t bring any condoms.”

It’s not like he was some random guy. Although you appreciated his caution, you just wanted him inside you. “I trust you,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to him.

After he settles on the couch, you shift unsteadily to straddle his hips, pressing your bodies together. Reaching between you, you fumble with his jeans until he helps, lifting his hips in a fluid motion to pull them down just enough to free himself. Bracing yourself, you let him guide you as you slowly sink down onto him. Your lips part with an involuntary sigh that turns into a soft moan as he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

When you begin to roll your hips, the friction sends sparks of pleasure through your core.

“Fuck, your pussy feels good,” he breathes out roughly, his fingers digging into your hips before worry suddenly crosses his face. His cheeks flush as he stammers, “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

You giggle at his compliment, causing your muscles to clamp around his length. “I’m not mad at it,” you reassure him. “You make me feel really good, too.”

“Yeah?” His brow quirks. “You like when I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you moan, dipping your head to his lips in another kiss as you find your rhythm together.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer as you rock against him with increasing urgency. Before this, you’ve resigned yourself to never experiencing an orgasm from penetrative sex, and yet here was another brewing and there was nothing you could do but let it happen.

You gasp as his hand makes sudden contact with your ass, the unexpected sting making you freeze in place. You stare at him dumbfounded.

“What are you going to do about it?” he challenges. Before you can answer, his hand comes down again with another firm smack that rings through the room. “What?” The sound of provocation in his voice makes your pulse quicken.

You hover over him, eyes narrowing as you lean closer. Through gritted teeth, your voice emerges as a heated whisper. “Harder.”

“I thought so.” He smiles slyly before your lips crash in a fierce kiss that leaves you both breathless.

With a firm grip, he holds your hips still as he thrusts into you with deliberate, measured strokes. You clutch at him, the rhythmic sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Jihoon buries his face between your breasts, his rough groans reverberating against your flesh.

You whine helplessly, overwhelmed by the building pressure as the familiar coil of tension in your belly winds impossibly tight. Your thighs burn as you teeter on the edge of release.

“Yes...d-don’t...stop...hm...so close,” you pant.

He slows his movements to an agonizing pace, drawing out each thrust to drive you insane. He pulls out completely before sinking back into you with one deep thrust that makes you see stars. Your jaw drops, unintelligible sounds tumbling out your mouth as you come hard.

You hold onto him for dear life, your nails leaving a trail of crescent marks on his skin as he picks up the pace once again, his own rhythm becoming more erratic as he chases his own orgasm. A deep groan rumbles from his chest as your walls pulse and clench around him.

“I’m close,” he warns, his usually calm and collected face now twisted with agonizing need.

“Don’t pull out,” you manage to choke out between strained, ragged breaths.

“You…s-sure…?”

You nod eagerly. With your permission, he thrusts deeper and harder, making your neck loll in ecstasy. He draws you back into a rough, hungry kiss that muffles your shared moans as he reaches the end of his rope, his hips jerking against yours while he spurts inside.

Pressing your sweat-slicked forehead against his, you wait for your heart rate to return to normal. There’s no doubt in your mind—no previous partner could compare to Jihoon.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sigh. “We’ve been missing out all this time.”

He laughs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “It was worth the wait though!”

********

After a quick shower and a necessary trip to the pharmacy down the block, you and Jihoon return to your apartment with bags of late-night snacks. All that sexual activity had certainly worked up an appetite, and you found yourself craving something sweet. An ice cream waffle cone hit the spot for you.

“Are you okay?”

You smile, endeared at his worrying. “You know, you’ve asked me that same question multiple times now, and I’ll keep giving you the same answer—I’m fine. Great, actually!”

“I know, I know,” he responds sheepishly. “I just hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

“Trust me, I don’t feel awkward about any of this at all,” you respond with complete sincerity before facing him to find out if he felt the same way you did. “Do you?”

He shakes his head, tilting the bag of Skittles into his mouth. “Nope,” he answers between chews. “To be honest, I thought that was fucking mind-blowing!”

You inhale sharply at his candid comment, nodding in agreement. “Same. Absolutely no complaints from me!”

He gets up from the couch, takes out a small box from the shopping bag to set it aside, and stuffs your discarded candy wrappers into it before heading to the kitchen to throw them away.

When he returns from the kitchen, your eyes linger on him. “Thanks, Jihoonie,” you whisper. “For…everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a wink before sinking back into the couch beside you.

This turned out to be the complete opposite of your initial fears. Not only did this one-off experiment exceed all your expectations, but it seems your friendship remained the same. Though you never would have guessed that your best friend would end up giving you the best orgasms of your life.

As you continue to enjoy your treat, you notice Jihoon’s eyes fixed on your tongue as it swirls around the chocolate ice cream. His dark eyes watching you with the same intensity as when you came undone with his touch earlier.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “Quit staring at me like that,” you cautioned, though your tone suggested otherwise.

“Then don’t ever eat an ice cream cone in front of me,” he responds with a chuckle as he subtly adjusts himself beneath his pants.

You bite your lip, feeling a warmth between your legs again. “You know...” you clear your throat, reaching for the box of condoms he left on the coffee table, “I wonder if these things really live up to the ‘raw’ feel.”

He clicks his teeth dismissively before responding. “I think it’s false advertising.”

“You think so?”

He takes the box from you, examining the label. “I mean, we do have a perfect point of comparison,” he reasons, a smile ghosting his lips. “Should we find out?”

You stare at each other for a moment before breaking into grins and exclaiming in unison, “For science!”

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[ekybrini]

I love you, I'm sorry | Jack Hughes

— ⟡ summary | After the breakup, you spend the summer at the Hughes' lake house, trying to move on while Jack lingers in the background, never pushing but always there in small, unspoken ways. Slowly, the anger fades into something more complicated, and as the summer stretches on, you’re forced to confront the one thing you’ve been avoiding .

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I am aware of)

— ⟡ word count | 10.6k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!! since many people requested a part two here it is!! in all honestly I don't know if I like this or hate it, but oh well. hopefully you guys like part two as much as you liked part one ! <3 I apologize if this seems a little rushed.

part one | jacks pov (to part one)

It’s been almost two months since that weekend in New Jersey. Two months since you stood in Jack’s apartment waiting for him to say something, anything, while he stood there arms crossed over his chest face guarded and let you walk away.

He hasn’t called. He hasn’t texted. And you haven’t either.

At first, it hurt so badly you could barely breathe. The quiet was unbearable. You kept expecting your phone to light up with his name, to see a message “I’m sorry or Can we talk?” but nothing ever came. He’d let you leave after that fight, and the silence afterward felt like proof that he never really cared as much as you thought.

But the worst part, the part you hate admitting even to yourself is that you miss him. You miss him so much it’s a physical ache in your chest. You catch yourself thinking about him at the most random moments when you hear a song he used to like, or when you see someone wearing a Devils hoodie at the store. Your hand still twitches toward your phone when something funny happens. Your brain is so used to telling Jack everything that it hasn’t caught up to the fact that he isn’t there anymore. Even after two months.

Quinn’s checked in a few times. He hasn’t pushed, but you can feel the weight behind his questions. You know he’s talking to Jack about your conversations, but he hasn’t said much about it to you, which makes you think it’s probably bad.

You’re trying to move on. You really are. You’ve thrown yourself into school and work, into hanging out with your friends, into finding some sense of normalcy without him. But sometimes, it feels like you’re just going through all emotions. Because for the past nine years, Jack was part of your normal day life and now you don’t know how to exist without him.

It’s a Monday night when Quinn calls.

You almost let it go to voicemail, but your chest tightens, and you swipe to answer at the last second.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Quinn says. His voice is steady, but you can hear the hesitation underneath it. “How are you?”

“Fine.” The word tastes hollow. Quinn doesn’t say anything, and you sigh. “Okay, not really. But it’s fine.”

There’s a pause. “Yeah.” Quinn sounds like he’s bracing himself for something. “Jack’s in Michigan.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“He flew home this morning.”

Your heart starts pounding. You sit up straighter, curling your hand around the phone. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn says, but you can tell he’s lying.

You close your eyes. “Quinn”

“I’m not saying you have to talk to him,” Quinn says. “But I think he wants to.”

You bite your lip. Your chest is tight. You hate how much you want to see him. You hate how much hope is curling around the edges of your heart, even though you know better by now.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whisper.

“I know,” Quinn says quietly. “Just think about it.”

You don’t sleep much that night. Your mind keeps spinning, replaying every word of that last conversation with Jack, every look, every moment that led up to it. Him ignoring you at any given chance. You’re still awake when the sun rises, and your chest feels raw and aching as you get through the day.

Jack is here. Jack is in Michigan. Of course he is, it's all star week which means some of the players have a break. How did you forget?

You keep expecting to see him turn a corner and find him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes wide with regret. You don’t know what you’d do if that happened. Run? Scream? Pretend you don’t see him?

You wouldn't give him the chance.

For the next few days, you avoid every place he might be. You don’t go to the coffee shop you used to go to together. You don’t go to the dock outside of your house even though it’s a ritual for you. When Luke texts, asking if you want to hang out, you hesitate because what if Jack is there too?

Your answer is shorter than usual. “Not today. sorry.”

It’s exhausting, constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the inevitable. But part of you, the part you don’t want to acknowledge is waiting for it. Because Jack will always find his way back to you.

But what if he doesn't? 

Two days pass. Then three Days. Then another. And you didn't see Jack nor did he never shows up.

Maybe we are really done. 

The thought makes your stomach twist, but you shove it down, focusing on work. You pick up extra shifts at the restaurant, filling your schedule so there is completely no room to think about him. It works, mostly.

Until the night he walks through the door.

It’s a Friday. You’re busy clearing a table when you hear someone call your name from the kitchen, asking you to run a drink order to one of the booths. You grab the tray without thinking, slipping through the crowd, already moving on autopilot.

And then you see him.

Jack is sitting in the booth near the window, fingers tapping anxiously against the table. His head is down, like he’s lost in thought. Like he doesn’t quite know why he’s here, only that he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

For a second, you think about turning around running back to the kitchen and pretending you didn’t see him. But it’s too late he looks up at the exact moment you freeze, and his gaze locks onto yours.

His expression shifts instantly. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flicker with so many emotions at once shock, relief, regret, and guilt.

You grip the tray a little tighter. Your heartbeat is so loud it drowns out the chatter around you. You can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Jack stands slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast.

You should. You want to. But you don’t.

Your grip tightens around the tray, fingers pressing into the smooth surface like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The noise of the restaurant fades into the background, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears.

Jack takes a step forward, hesitant. “I-”

Your manager’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and direct. “Hey, can you get that table?”

You blink, the moment snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. Jack’s standing in front of you now closer than you’re ready for, but you force yourself to move past him stepping around his outstretched hand like you don’t even see it. Like he’s not even there.

Jack turns, his voice softer this time. “Wait-”

But you don’t.

You drop the drink order at the booth without looking back, without acknowledging the way your chest is threatening to cave in and disappear into the kitchen before he can say another word.

Your hands shake as you set the tray down exhaling sharply. The kitchen is warmer than usual the air thick with the smell of sizzling food and fresh bread, but you still feel cold your skin prickling with something too close to panic.

“Hey.” One of the other servers looks over at you, frowning. “You okay?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just just need a second.”

They don’t push, but you can feel their eyes on you as you turn away, bracing your hands against the counter.

Jack is out there. Jack is here.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Get through your shift. That’s all you have to do.

But the thought of walking back out there, of seeing him again makes your stomach twist.

You suck in a breath and grab water from the staff fridge forcing yourself to focus. You’ve handled worse. You can handle this.

But when you finally step out of the kitchen again, Jack is still there.And he’s waiting for you. He hasn’t left. You knew he wouldn’t.

Jack is still standing by the booth hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shifting his weight like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. His drink sits untouched on the table, condensation pooling around the base of the glass. He hasn’t looked away from the kitchen door since you walked through it, and when your eyes meet again something inside you clenched tight.

You force yourself to move to pretend like your legs aren’t trembling as you walk past him to check on another table. You don’t stop. You don’t slow down. But you can feel his gaze on you heavy, like he’s hoping you to look back.

You don’t.

You take another order, bring out another tray clear another table, throw yourself into work like it’s enough to drown out the storm raging inside you. But it’s impossible to ignore him when he’s still there, lingering like a ghost a constant presence in the corner of your vision. Just as you’re starting to think he might give up you hear your name.

"y/n"

Soft. Almost unsure. But you hear it.

You freeze.

Slowly, you turn.

Jack is closer now, standing just a few feet away his expression raw like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Can we” His voice catches, and he swallows hard. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightens. No. That’s the answer. That’s what you should say.

But nothing comes out.

Jack waits, shifting slightly, like he’s bracing himself for you to say no. Like he’s already expecting it.

And maybe that’s what makes you hesitate.

Your fingers curl into your apron heart slamming against your ribs. You should walk away. You should tell him you’re busy. You should say something that will make him leave.

But instead, you whisper, “I’m working.”

Jack exhales nodding quickly like he was stupid to even ask. “Right. Yeah. I just” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “I just wanted to see you.”

Well, congratulations. You’ve seen me.

You don’t say it. You don’t say anything.

Jack glances down rubbing the back of his neck then looks at you again. “I’ll wait.”

Your stomach twists. “Jack-”

“I’ll wait,” he repeats, softer this time. “I won’t leave until you talk to me.”

You exhale sharply, your chest tightening as you glance toward the clock. Two more hours. Two more hours of him sitting there, of feeling his eyes on you, of knowing he’s just waiting.

You don’t know if you can do this.

But it doesn’t seem like you have a choice.

For the next two hours, Jack keeps his word.

He doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t even try to talk to you again.

But he stays.

Every time you glance toward his booth whether it be on purpose or by accident he’s still there. His drink sits untouched, ice melted into the soda. He barely touches his phone, only looking at it in short, distracted glances, like he’s waiting for time to pass. But mostly, he watches you. Not in an overbearing way, not in a way that demands your attention, but in a way that feels like he’s just there. Present. Waiting.

And it makes your skin crawl. Because he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be sitting in your restaurant, watching you like this, like he’s hoping for something you can’t bring yourself to give him.

Your chest feels tight the entire time you work. Your hands shake a little as you punch in orders, your voice wavers when you ask customers if they need anything else. You can’t focus. Can’t think straight. Because Jack is still there.

When your shift finally ends, you take longer than usual in the back, wiping down counters that don’t need cleaning, refilling sugar dispensers that aren’t empty. You stall because you know what’s waiting for you outside.

And yet, when you finally push open the back door, stepping into the humid air, you’re still not prepared to see him standing there.

Jack is leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, foot tapping absently against the concrete. The parking lot lights cast a dim glow over his face, catching the shadows under his eyes, the sharp cut of his jawline. He looks different than the last time you saw him. More tired. More worn down.

Your heart lurches despite everything.

Jack straightens as soon as he sees you. His shoulders tense like he’s expecting you to keep walking, to brush past him without a word.

And for a second you think about it.

But then he says your name. Soft and hesitant like a question.

Like a plea.

And you hate that your feet stop moving.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms. “You waited.”

Jack nods. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “You know why.”

You do. But you still don’t want to hear it.

Jack hesitates, then takes a small step closer. “Can we just, can we talk? Please?”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say. Maybe you were waiting for an apology. Maybe you thought he’d make some excuse, some weak attempt to downplay what happened.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you, his expression open and raw.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

Your fingers tighten against your arms. “I don’t know if I have anything to say to you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue. But then he exhales, nodding. “Okay.”

That’s it no protest no but or please. Just okay.

You shift uncomfortably, glancing away. It would be easier if he were angry. If he fought you on this. But he doesn’t. He just takes the rejection, lets it settle between you without trying to force something you don’t want to give.

You should leave. You should get in your car and drive away.

But you don’t.

And Jack doesn’t either.

The silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable. The night hums around you cars passing in the distance, the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead, the muffled voices of your coworkers still inside but it all fades against the weight of him.

Jack shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickers to the pavement, then back to you. “I didn’t come here to make this harder.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Jack exhales, closing his eyes briefly like he expected that. Maybe he did.

When he opens them again, they’re softer, something aching in them. “I don’t know what to say to make this right.”

You stare at him, fingers digging into your arms. Good. Because there is no magic fix for this. There’s no sentence that can undo the months of silence, the gutting way he hurt you, the way he let you walk away without fighting for you.

Jack swallows hard, stepping forward just enough to bridge the space between you, but not enough to make you feel trapped. “I know I messed up. And I know I probably don’t get to ask for anything from you anymore, but” He hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I just explain?”

You shake your head, looking away. “Jack-”

“Please.”

That one word pulls something deep in your chest. It’s quiet and desperate and so different from the last time you spoke, from the sharp edged way he threw his words at you like knives, cutting you open and then leaving you there to bleed.

This Jack, the one standing in front of you now isn’t the same.

But does it even matter?

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Why now?”

Jack flinches, like the question physically hits him. “Because I’m not” He exhales sharply, jaw tightening. “Because I should’ve told you everything back then. And I didn’t. And I hate myself for it.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat, your arms falling to your sides. “And you think telling me now is going to change anything?”

Jack hesitates. “No. But I can’t keep” He stops, shaking his head like he’s trying to find the right words. “I can’t let the last thing I ever say to you be that.”

Your heart twists.

Because neither can you.

But you don’t know if you’re ready for this. You don’t know if you can stand here and listen to him tell you things that should have been said back in New Jersey. months ago.

And yet, you don’t move.

Jack watches you, waiting, his hands clenched at his sides. And for the first time since you left New Jersey, it actually looks like he’s scared.

Not losing you.

But because he already did.

The night air feels too heavy, pressing against your skin as you stand there, caught between the past and whatever this moment is supposed to be. Jack looks like he’s waiting for you to run, like he wouldn’t even blame you if you did.

And maybe you should. Maybe you should turn around go back inside pretend this never happened.

But your feet stay planted.

Jack shifts again, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits quietly.

You huff out a breath, crossing your arms. “You should’ve figured that out before you” Your voice catches, the words cutting into you as much as they do him. Before you pushed me away. You can’t say it out loud. You won’t.

Jack flinches anyway like he heard it.

“I know,” he says, and it’s not defensive not sharp. Just raw. “I know I handled everything wrong. I know I hurt you.” He swallows hard. “I just, I thought if I could just get through the season, if I could just push through everything, it would get better. That I’d get better.”

You frown, your arms tightening around yourself. “And you couldn’t talk to me about that?”

Jack laughs, but it’s empty. “I don’t know. I think I convinced myself that if I said it out loud, it would make it real. And if it was real, then I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I just shut down.”

You blink. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Jack talk about his own feelings like this before, at least not with you, not with anyone. He’s always been the one to feel everything and let it explode out of him in frustration or impulsiveness. Not like this. Not measured and painfully aware of how much damage he caused.

Jack’s hands clench at his sides. “And then when you came to Jersey” His voice drops lower, like he doesn’t even want to say it. “I knew I was losing you. And I didn’t know how to stop it. I was mad at myself, and I was mad at you for” He stops, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even know what. But I took it out on you, and I hate myself for it.”

Your breath catches.

Because this is what you needed back then. An explanation. An admission. Something other than the cold, cutting way he pushed you away.

But it’s been months. And you don’t know if hearing it now makes a difference.

Jack steps forward not enough to crowd you, but enough that you can see the way his eyes shine under the streetlight. The way he looks wrecked.

“I love you, I'm sorry. I just miss you.,” he breathes. “Every day.”

Your chest tightens so painfully you think it might break you in half.

You look away, blinking hard. “Jack”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “I just” He lets out a slow breath. “I just needed you to know.”

The words hang in the air between you.

And for the first time since you walked away from him, you have no idea what to do.

Your fingers tighten around your arms, nails digging into your skin. “You don’t get to just say that,” you whisper. “You don’t get to show up at my job and” Your voice catches, breath hitching. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “And tell me you love me and that you miss me like that means anything after everything.”

Jack flinches, but he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t run. That’s the worst part. You wish he would. It would be easier if he stormed off, if he got frustrated, if he did something that made it easier to hold onto your anger. But instead, he just stands there, taking every word you throw at him like he knows he deserves them.

“It means everything,” he says, voice rough. “It always has.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “Then why did you treat me like I didn’t?”

Jack’s face crumples, and he lets out a slow, unsteady breath. “Because I was a fucking coward.” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “Because I thought pushing you away would hurt less than letting you see how much I was struggling.” He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “But it didn’t. Losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as your vision starts to blur. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You refuse to cry in front of him. Not after everything.

Jack steps closer not enough to touch you, but enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says. “I don’t expect anything. But I had to tell you the truth. You deserved that.”

You stare at him, breathing shakily. His face is open, vulnerable in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. Like he’s laid everything bare, like he’s put his heart in your hands even though he knows you have every reason to drop it and let it shatter.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

You don’t know what to say.

You don’t know how to feel.

All you know is that Jack Hughes is standing in front of you. Your old best friend. Your ex boyfriend. finally talking, finally telling you everything you wanted to hear months ago.

The weight of his words presses down on you, threatening to crack the walls you’ve spent months building around yourself. You force yourself to stand taller, to steel yourself against the way he’s looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as blinks.

Maybe you already have.

“You don’t get to do this,” you say again, voice steadier now, but your hands are still trembling. “You don’t get to walk away, to break me like that, and then show up months later acting like you care.”

Jack’s expression twists, pained. “I never stopped caring.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Just stop.”

Jack drags a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I know. I fucked up. I know I did. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it every single day.” His voice shakes, raw and unfiltered. “I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve let you in. But I was scared, and I-” He stops, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “I don’t have an excuse.”

The worst part? You believe him.

You always believe him.

But that doesn’t mean it’s enough.

“I spent two months waiting,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the restaurant around you. “Months wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Jack’s face falls. “It was never about you not being enough.”

“Then why did you let me leave? Why didn’t you stop me before I walked out of that door?” Your voice cracks on the last word. 

Jack looks devastated. “Because I was drowning,” he admits, and the honesty in his voice is almost unbearable. “And instead of reaching for you, I pushed you away because I didn’t want you to see me like that. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just being a selfish asshole.”

You shake your head, trying to will away the lump forming in your throat. “You don’t get to decide what protects me, Jack. That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I know,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

You inhale sharply, looking away, because if you look at him any longer, you might break right here in the middle of your shift, in front of all these people.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” you admit.

Jack hesitates. “I don’t expect anything. I just” He trails off, his hands clenching at his sides. “I just needed you to know that I never stopped caring. That I still-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to reel himself back in.

Like he’s about to say something he can’t take back.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

Jack clears his throat, stepping back slightly, like he’s giving you space. “I won’t bother you again if you don’t want me to,” he says quietly. “But if, if there’s even a chance that I haven’t lost you completely-” His voice breaks, and he looks down, swallowing hard. “I’d give anything to fix what I broke.”

You stare at him, your breath shaky.

The worst part is you don’t know if you want him to leave or stay.

All you know is that, despite everything, you still love him.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Jack’s still standing there, waiting, hands curled into fists like he’s bracing for you to tell him to leave. Like he already knows he deserves it.

And maybe he does.

But that doesn’t make this any easier.

“You should go,” you finally say, forcing the words out past the tightness in your throat.

Jack flinches, just barely, but he nods. “Okay.” His voice is quiet, rough around the edges.

He hesitates for a moment longer, like he wants to say something else, but then he just exhales sharply, turns, and walks away.

You don’t move. You stand there, gripping the tray so tightly your knuckles ache, staring at the spot where he just was.

He actually left.

You should feel relieved. You should feel proud of yourself for standing your ground.

Instead, your stomach churns, and your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You force yourself to move, heading straight to the back of the restaurant to get your stuff before anyone can see the way your hands are shaking. You press your palms against the counter, inhaling sharply, trying to push down the overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to drag you under.

You hate this. You hate that he can still make you feel like this.

And worst of all, you hate that some part of you wanted him to stay.

⟡

You don’t see him again for a few days.

And then suddenly, he’s everywhere.

You see him at the grocery store while you’re grabbing coffee. You turn a corner, and there he is standing in front of the dairy section looking just as caught off guard as you. You don’t even think.You spin on your heel and walk straight out of the store leaving the coffee behind.

A few days later, you spot him at the lake standing at the dock, your dock his hands shoved in his pockets, staring out at the water like it holds all the answers he’s been searching for.

You don’t let yourself wonder what he’s thinking. You turn and walk back home, your stomach twisting painfully.

You don’t let yourself wonder what he’s thinking. You turn and walk back home, your stomach twisting painfully.

It happens again. And again.

At first, you think it’s just bad luck. Michigan is only so big, after all.

But then Luke starts to text you

“Jack’s been asking about you.”

You stare at the message for a long time before typing out a response.

“Tell him to stop”

Luke doesn’t reply right away. When he does, it’s just one word

“Okay”

You don’t know if he actually tells Jack.

But for a while, it seems like he did.

Because you don’t see Jack after that. Not at the grocery store, not at the lake, not anywhere.

It should be a relief.

So why does it feel like an ache settling in your chest?

Did he go back to New Jersey? 

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you wanted this. That you told him to leave you alone. But the words feel thin, like paper that might tear with the wrong touch.

 Luke texts you again after a few days.

“Jack’s still here.”

Your stomach twists.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a response.

“Why? Isn’t all starts over?”

It only takes Luke a few seconds to reply.

“I don’t know. But he’s not leaving.”

You stare at Luke’s response, your heart pounding.

Jack should be gone by now. He should be in Jersey practicing. He has no reason to still be here.

Unless he's still here for you. You shake your head, pushing the thought away before it can settle. You can’t do this again. You can’t let yourself hope.

Your phone buzzes again.

“Have you seen him?” Luke asks.

You swallow hard.

“No. And I don’t want to.”

It’s a lie. 

Luke doesn’t call you out on it, but his next message lingers on the screen, making your chest ache.

“I think he’s waiting for you.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know how to.

Because you know Luke’s right. Jack wouldn’t still be here if he wasn’t waiting for something.

You shut off your phone, but it doesn’t stop the way your thoughts spin. The way your stomach twists at the idea of Jack still being here, waiting.

For days, you’d been looking over your shoulder, avoiding places he might be. But now, knowing that he hasn’t left, knowing that he’s lingering in the same town, waiting for something, you. makes it worse.

You want to be angry. You want to be relieved. Instead, you just feel exhausted. Because if Jack is waiting, it means this isn’t over. And you don’t know if you have it in you to face him again.

After a few days on Monday night, Luke texts you again.

"Jack left."

You stare at the message for a long time, reading it over and over again like maybe you’ve misunderstood. But it’s right there, plain as day. Jack is gone.

Your chest tightens, and you don’t know if it’s relief or something closer to disappointment that settles in your bones. You should be happy. This is what you wanted, right? For him to leave you alone?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a response.

"Back to Jersey?"

Luke replies almost immediately.

"Yeah. He flew out this morning."

You don’t answer. You don’t know what to say.

For the next few weeks, life goes back to normal. Or at least, as normal as it can be when there’s still a Jack shaped hole in your life. The weight in your chest doesn’t fade, but you learn to live with it. You stop looking over your shoulder. You go back to the places you avoided before. You try to move on.

But it’s not that easy.

You still reach for your phone sometimes, instinctively, before remembering there’s no reason to. You still think about him when you pass by the lake, still catch yourself wondering what he’s doing, if he ever thinks about you, if New Jersey feels as lonely for him as Michigan does for you.

But you don’t let yourself ask.

⟡

summer comes around

Its been six months without jack in your life. 3 months since you last talked.

It starts the way it always does long days, warm nights, the kind of stillness in the air that makes everything feel slower. You throw yourself into work, trying not to think about how different this summer feels without Jack.

It happens on a quiet summer evening.

You’re sitting on Luke’s dock, legs dangling over the edge, the warm air thick with the scent of the lake. It’s one of those nights where the water is still, the sky is streaked with soft orange, and everything feels suspended in time.

Luke sits beside you, tossing small rocks into the water. It’s easy, comfortable like it always has been with him. No pressure to talk, no need to fill the silence.

For the first time in a long time, you almost feel okay.

And then you hear it.

The crunch of tires on gravel. The low hum of an engine cutting off. A car door slamming shut.

Your entire body tenses. Luke shifts beside you, tossing one last rock into the water before letting out a sigh.

You don’t turn around. You don’t move at all. Maybe if you stay still, if you pretend you didn’t hear it, it won’t be real.

But then you heard. Footsteps.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Luke is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“You’re back,” he says, voice unreadable.

Your fingers clench against the wood of the dock.

And then Jack’s voice.

“Yeah.”

Luke exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought you weren’t coming home until next week.”

Jack shrugs, shifting his weight. “Changed my flight.”

Luke doesn’t say anything for a moment, just glances at you before shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

You swallow hard, your grip tightening on the edge of the dock. Your heart is pounding, but you force yourself to keep your face neutral.

Luke lets out a sigh, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m gonna head inside,” he says, his voice careful, like he already knows you’re about to protest.

Your head snaps toward him. “Luke”

He just shrugs, backing away. “You should talk.”

Fuck you luke

And before you can argue, he’s already walking up the dock, leaving you alone with Jack.

The air feels thick with something unspoken as Luke disappears into the house, the sound of the door shutting behind him echoing across the quiet lake.

You don’t look at Jack. Not right away. Instead, you stare down at the rippling water, your pulse hammering against your ribs.

Jack shifts on his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says after a long moment. His voice is quieter than you expected. Careful.

You swallow hard. “Yeah, well. I didn’t think you were coming back today.”

Jack exhales, and you finally force yourself to glance at him. He looks tired. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, his usual easy posture stiff, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

“I was gonna wait,” he says, his gaze flickering to yours before dropping to the dock. “But I just I don’t know. I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Your fingers curl against the wood, nails pressing into the grain. “For what?”

Jack lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “For this,” he says. “For seeing you.” He stops, his throat bobbing. “For whatever happens next.”

A lump rises in your throat. You want to tell him nothing happens next. That it’s too late. That he made sure of that months ago.

But the words won’t come.

Instead, you stare at him, your chest tightening with something you don’t want to name. Something fragile and painful and real.

Jack takes a small step forward. “I know you don’t want to see me,” he says. “And I get it. I do. But I just I couldn’t stay away.”

You let out a shaky breath, looking back at the water. “Maybe you should have.”

Jack flinches, just barely. “Maybe,” he admits. “But I didn’t.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. The lake laps gently against the shore, the summer air warm around you.

Jack shifts again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you’ll ever want to talk to me again,” he says, voice rough. “But I had to come back. Even if it’s just to tell you I’m sorry.”

Your throat tightens. “Jack-”

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he interrupts, holding your gaze. “I swear. Just say the word.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t trust yourself too.

Because for months, you thought you wanted him to stay gone. But now that he’s here, standing in front of you, looking at you like that.

You’re not sure anymore.

Jack watches you, his breathing uneven, like he’s waiting for a reaction, any reaction. But you can’t give him one. Not yet.

Your chest feels too tight, your mind racing through everything at once. The months apart. The silence. The way he shattered everything with a few careless words. And now he’s here, standing on the dock like he belongs, like he can just step back into your life because he decided he’s ready.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you want it to be.

Jack runs a hand through his hair, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Nothing,” he says. “I just don't want to leave things like this.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Like what, Jack?”

“Like I broke everything and never tried to fix it.”

Your stomach twists. You stare at him, searching his face for the version of him you used to know the boy who used to feel like home. But all you see is the space between who he was and who he’s become, and you don’t know if you fit anywhere in between.

“You did break everything,” you say, and your voice wavers despite your best effort to keep it steady. “And then you let me leave”

Jack’s jaw tightens. “I know,” he murmurs. “And I hated it.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He looks away, out at the lake, like the words are stuck in his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because I was scared I told you this.”

The confession hangs between you, thick with regret. You should be angry. Maybe you are. But beneath it, there’s something else, something raw and aching, something that feels dangerously close to understanding.

Jack exhales, shaking his head. “I messed up,” he says. “I know I did. And I don’t expect you to just forget it, or forgive me, or anything like that. I just, I needed to see you. Even if it’s just this once.”

Your fingers curl against the wood of the dock. You should tell him to leave. You should walk away first. But you don’t. It’s his dock after all.

Because for all the hurt and anger and unanswered questions, for all the ways he’s let you down. Jack has always been the one person you could never quite let go of.

Jack shifts, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, looking down at the worn wooden boards of the dock. “I don’t know if it means anything,” he says, voice quiet, “but I never stopped thinking about you.”

Your breath catches, and you hate how much those words stir something inside you. “Thinking about me didn’t stop you from ignoring me and pushing me away when all I wanted to do is be there for you. you stopped letting me in Jack."

Jack flinches. “I know.” His voice is hoarse, raw, like he’s forcing the words out. “And I don’t expect you to believe me, but I hated myself for it.”

You shake your head, looking back at the water, your hands gripping the edge of the dock like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “Hating yourself doesn’t change anything, Jack.”

Jack exhales, long and unsteady. “I know that too.”

Silence stretches between you again. The lake ripples gently against the shore, the air thick with humidity and something you can’t name.

Then, he moves. Just barely. A half step closer. Not enough to bridge the distance, but enough that you can feel it his presence, his hesitation, his regret.

“I won’t push,” he says after a long moment. “I just needed you to know. That I never stopped caring. That I never stopped-” He exhales sharply, cutting himself off before the word loving can leave his lips.

You close your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to breathe.

When you finally look at him, he’s already watching you, his expression open in a way it never was before. Vulnerable. Honest.

You don’t know what to do with that.

“I don’t know jack.”

Jack nods once, like he expected that. Like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable. But then, instead of walking away, instead of saying goodbye he just says, “I’ll see you around.”

And then he does walk away, up the dock, back toward the house, leaving you there with nothing but the echo of his words and the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

You don’t move for a long time.

Because you don’t know what you want anymore.

You don’t move until the sound of the screen door clicking shut fades into the stillness of the lake. Even then, your muscles stay locked, fingers clenched against the dock, breathing shallow like if you breathe too hard, everything will come crashing down again.

Luke was right. You should talk.

But what does talking even fix?

What does this fix?

The summer air is warm, but you feel cold. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze rolling off the water and everything to do with the way Jack just looked at you like he was still searching for something in you, something familiar, something that maybe isn’t his to find anymore.

And yet. You should’ve felt relieved when he walked away.

But all you feel is this dull ache in your chest, pressing against your ribs like it’s trying to crawl its way out.

A deep sigh from behind you breaks your trance.

You don’t have to turn around to know Luke is back.

You wipe at your face quickly though you don’t think you’re crying and only glance at him when he drops down beside you on the dock, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“You wanna hit me for leaving?” he asks casually, tossing a rock into the water.

You scoff, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re an asshole.”

Luke grins, but it fades quickly. “You okay?”

You don’t answer right away, just stare at the water, the ripples from his rock barely noticeable. “I don’t know,” you admit.

Luke hums like he expected that. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, the sun sinking lower, painting streaks of pink and orange through the clouds.

“I didn’t know he was coming back today. I would’ve told you.,” he says after a moment. “Thought it was next week.”

You swallow, shifting your hands in your lap. “I know.”

“I also didn’t know he was gonna come straight here.”

Your stomach twists. “He came straight here?”

Luke nods. “Dropped his bag in the house and then walked out here.” He pauses, glancing at you. “Think that means something.”

You shake your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like” You cut yourself off, gritting your teeth. “Like it changes anything.”

Luke doesn’t argue. He just looks back at the lake. “Doesn’t have to change anything,” he says simply. “But I think it means he cares.”

You let out a short laugh, bitter and tired. “Caring wasn’t the problem.”

Luke tilts his head, considering that. “No,” he agrees. “But it’s a start.”

You don’t respond.

Because you don’t know what to say.

Jack came back. He came straight to you. He stood there, waiting, offering something not a fix, not an excuse, but something.

And maybe it’s not enough.

But maybe it’s not nothing, either.

You watch the water for a long time, the sky shifting from soft sunset hues to deeper shades of blue. Luke doesn’t press, doesn’t push. He just sits there, existing beside you, letting the quiet settle.

And when the last bit of daylight fades, and the only sounds left are the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle lap of the water against the shore, you finally let yourself whisper the thing you haven’t allowed yourself to say for months.

“I don’t know how to hate him.”

Luke doesn’t look at you, but you feel his understanding in the way his shoulder bumps against yours.

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

You exhale, long and shaky.

You don’t know if he’s right. You don’t know what any of this means. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel as certain about keeping Jack out as you once did. 

And that terrifies you more than anything.

You don’t move for a long time. Neither does Luke.

The two of you sit there, the night settling around you, wrapping the dock in quiet, in something close to peace. If it weren’t for the weight sitting heavy in your chest, you could almost pretend everything was normal.

But it’s not and it hasn’t been for a long time.

Luke finally shifts beside you, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them, but you know it’s not the cold he’s trying to get rid of. You can feel the quiet question in the way his gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t press, doesn’t ask what’s going on in your head. He doesn’t need to.

“You know, I always thought it was pretty simple,” Luke says, his voice casual again, though there’s a hint of something deeper in it. “You and Jack. The way you two were.”

You glance at him quickly, surprised by the words. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking at the sky, then at the water. “You always seemed like two halves of the same whole, you know? Like it was just meant to be.” He exhales slowly, like it’s a thought that’s been lingering in his mind for a while. “But sometimes, I guess, it’s not that simple. people change.”

You feel a pang in your chest at that something between regret and hope. You want to say something, but you don’t have the words. You want to scream at him that it was simple, that it was easy, until it wasn’t. But all that comes out is a soft exhale.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be this hard,” you say quietly, and it’s the truth. The way Jack left.the way you left. The way things ended. All of it feels like a twisted knot you’ve been trying to unravel for months, but every time you get close, it tightens again.

Luke’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “What do you think it means, that he came back?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel it weigh on you, pressing into your ribs like a cold hand. Jack didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to show up here, and yet he did.

You want to tell Luke that you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter. But you can’t. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “I don’t know if it means anything at all.”

“Maybe it doesn’t,” Luke says, his voice softening. “But I think you want it to mean something.”

You don’t respond. You don’t know how. The truth is, you do want it to mean something, but you’re too scared to hope that it might. And that kind of pain? You’re not sure if you can handle it again.

Luke stands up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. “Hey,” he says, glancing at you with that same steady, knowing look. “I know you’re not ready for whatever this is with Jack. But you’ve gotta stop pretending that you don’t care. You’re better than that.”

You swallow, a lump rising in your throat. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care, to convince yourself that it’s over, that Jack’s no longer a part of your life. But that’s not the truth. The truth is every part of you still aches for him.

“I’m not pretending,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

Luke nods, his eyes softening, but he doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t need to. You feel the weight of his unspoken words settle between you, and for the first time in a long while, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating.

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Luke says after a moment, his voice a little more playful, breaking the tension. “Just don’t stay out here all night, okay? We’ve got a long summer ahead of us.”

You nod, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Lukey.”

He gives you one last, lingering look before heading inside. You watch his silhouette disappear into the house, and once again, you’re left alone on the dock, staring out at the lake, the endless expanse of water stretched out before you.

But this time, it’s different. For the first time, you feel like you’re not completely alone. Like, maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight.

Jack came back. He showed up. And you’re not sure what that means, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s the first step back to something real.

The night is quiet again, the world around you settling into that peaceful hum it always does at this hour. The crickets are still singing, the water is still lapping against the shore. And in the distance, you can hear the faintest sound of footsteps on the dock, a reminder that things might be changing, and you’re not sure where they’ll lead.

But you’re willing to find out.

Luke’s footsteps fade as he heads back inside, leaving you alone on the dock with your thoughts. The evening air is cooler now, the breeze brushing against your skin, but you barely notice. The lake reflects the dimming sky, ripples catching the fading light, as if the world is holding its breath.

It feels almost peaceful here, a quiet that’s both comforting and suffocating at once. You’ve spent countless evenings on this dock, but tonight is different. Everything is different. You don’t know if it's the weight of the words Luke left you with, or the fact that Jack's presence still lingersin the air. But something inside you is shifting, and you don’t know how to stop it.

⟡

You don’t notice at first.

Not really.

The little things. The quiet ways Jack moves around you, never asking for anything, never forcing his way in.

There’s always an extra water bottle in the fridge, the brand you like, the one you always reach for first. It’s never mentioned, never pointed out, just there, cold and waiting. One time, you grab the last one, and the next morning, the fridge is stocked again. You don’t see him do it, but you know it’s him.

When you sit outside with Luke in the evening, Jack’s hoodie somehow ends up draped over the back of your chair. It’s too warm for it, but you don’t move it. It smells like detergent and something that’s just him. Familiar. Unavoidable. When the wind picks up and the air shifts cooler, you don’t think before pulling it on. Later, when you catch him looking at you in it, he doesn’t say anything. Just presses his lips together and looks away.

At dinner, he never takes the seat next to you. Not once. He could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits just far enough that you don’t have to acknowledge him, but close enough that if you need the salt or the serving spoon or another napkin, he can pass it to you without hesitation. He does every time, even when someone else could. You don’t thank him, but you never don’t take it.

You say you’re not hungry one night, push your plate away after barely picking at it. No one calls you on it. No one says anything. But later, when you go into the kitchen, the snack you like is left on the counter. No note. No explanation. Just there. You stare at it for a long time before taking it to your room.

When you sit with everyone on the dock, he’s always the last one inside. It’s not obvious, not really, but it happens every time. He waits until you’ve gone in first, even if it means staying out later than he would otherwise.

You don’t catch him looking at you much. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to talk about things you’re not ready for. But when he walks by, his hand lingers for just a second on the back of your chair. A second too long to be incidental, too short to be anything more. Just enough for you to notice.

And maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it does.

You’re not sure which thought is worse.

The house is quiet when you slip out.

Everyone else is asleep, the soft hum of the AC the only sound as you step carefully over the creaky floorboards. The cool night air hits you the second you step outside, the warmth of the house falling away as you make your way down toward the dock.

You don’t know why you’re out here. Or maybe you do. Maybe it’s the way the weight in your chest feels heavier inside, how the silence of the guest room is too loud, pressing in on you in a way you can’t shake. Out here, the night stretches wide, the water calm, dark, endless.

You sit at the edge of the dock, legs dangling over, the tips of your toes skimming the surface. The water ripples, soft and slow, carrying secrets you don’t have the words for.

You wrap your arms around yourself, staring out across the lake, watching the way the moonlight dances over the water. It’s peaceful, quiet in a way that should feel empty but doesn’t.

The sound of a door creaking open catches your attention. Your heart jumps, and instinctively, your gaze shifts toward the sound. You don’t need to look to know who it is.

Jack.

He’s standing at the end of the dock now, his figure barely visible in the low light, but you can feel the tension in the air between you. The same tension that’s been building for months, even before he left, before everything turned to dust.

You don’t say anything, just stare at him. You can feel his gaze on you, searching, waiting. There’s something in his eyes, something deeper than the uncertainty in yours. Maybe he’s been carrying this weight too.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence, a little quieter than usual. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your stomach drops. You didn’t expect him to be here. Not like this, not after everything.

You let out a shaky breath and glance at him, your throat tight. “Was just about to go back to the room.” you reply, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s the truth if only because you don’t want to be here anymore, alone with all these feelings.

He doesn’t respond right away, just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. You try to ignore the way your heart stutters in your chest at the sight of him. The Jack you knew is still there, but there’s something different, something unsure in the way he holds himself now.

And then you remember what Luke said. “He didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to show up here, and yet he did.”

Jack didn’t have to come here. He could have gone anywhere else. But he chose this place. He chose to come to you.

Your thoughts start to unravel, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out. “Luke told me you came straight here. No unpacking, no nothing. Just here.”

Jack’s gaze flickers briefly to the ground, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Yeah. I didn’t really know where else to go.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in months, you feel like you might be able to breathe again. He didn’t know where else to go. It doesn’t mean everything’s fixed, doesn’t mean you’ve figured out what you’re supposed to do now, but it’s something.

You stand slowly, moving to the edge of the dock, the space between you two still stretching, but somehow smaller now. You look at Jack, really look at him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something soft there now, something vulnerable.

You don’t know how to say it. You don’t know what to say. All you know is that the walls you’ve built between you and him no matter how high they were are starting to crack.

“Jack,” you start, but your voice falters. “what does this mean? Coming back like this?”

His gaze shifts back to you, and you see him swallow hard. His jaw tightens, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a sign that maybe he’s been struggling with this too.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “I just couldn't stay away. I thought I could. Thought I was better off doing this on my own, but I was wrong.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you, feeling that familiar pull in your chest that’s been there from the very start.

Jack doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re not sure what to expect. But then, his hand reaches out, tentatively, like he’s testing the waters. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t grab your arm or pull you in, but you can feel the warmth of his fingers just inches from your skin.

The air around you both is thick, charged with everything you’ve both been holding back for so long. You don’t know where this will lead, don’t know what happens next. But for the first time in a long time, you’re not scared of it.

You swallow and take that last step forward, your hand reaching for his, fingers brushing ever so gently. Neither of you pulls away.

You glance at Jack again, and the weight of everything, the unanswered questions to the unanswered feelings , the cold silences, the way everything has shifted between you two starts to settle back on your shoulders. It all feels so close, like you could reach out and touch it, but you’re not sure if you want to.

"I didn't think you'd come back this early," you say, breaking the silence, your voice more neutral than you feel. "I was told you were coming back next week."

Jack’s eyes flick over to you for a second, but he doesn’t look like he has an answer. He shrugs, a little sheepish. "I thought I’d head back sooner. Wasn’t much keeping me there. Kinda just wanted to get home." He glances down at the dock, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I guess I just wanted to clear my head, I guess."

You look away, not sure how to respond. The words you’ve been holding onto are trapped somewhere deep inside you, and they don’t seem to want to come out right now. It’s almost easier to stay quiet, to pretend you don’t care, than to admit how much you still feel like you’re waiting for something, anything, to change.

You let the silence linger between you two, the soft lapping of the water against the dock filling the space where words should be. 

Jack shifts beside you, but he doesn’t push. He’s waiting for you to speak. And for the first time in a long time, you realize how much you miss the quiet moments with him. How easy it used to be, before everything got so complicated. Before you ended things in New Jersey, when you left feeling more lost than when you got there.

"I didn't want it to end the way it did," you say, almost too quietly. You know it’s not a huge revelation, but somehow the weight of it feels bigger now that it’s out in the open. "I thought Maybe if you had just talked to me, things would’ve been different. But you didn’t. And I couldn’t just wait around for you to figure it out."

Jack doesn’t reply right away. His face is unreadable, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even hearing you. Then he finally looks over, his gaze soft but guarded. "I know I screwed up. I was just trying to figure stuff out myself, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I didn’t want to drag you into it."

There’s a rawness in his voice that you didn’t expect. It’s not a perfect apology, but it’s real. And that feels like a step, even if it’s a small one.

"I don’t know what we’re doing," you admit, running a hand through your hair, frustration seeping through despite yourself. "I don’t know if we can just pick up where we left off. But it’s hard, Jack. It’s really hard."

He leans back on his hands, looking at the sky, a long breath leaving his chest. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were," he says quietly. "I just want to make things right. I don’t know if that’s even possible, but I’m here. I’m here if you want to figure it out."

You pause, your heart racing even though the conversation is as calm as it’s been in a long time. There’s a quiet truth to what he’s saying. And while you’re still unsure about everything, you can’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something different.

You don’t know what’s going to happen, but for the first time in months, you're not as scared of finding out.

You stand there quietly, staring at the water, unsure of what to say. The weight of everything that’s happened between you and Jack feels heavier tonight. You’ve spent months pushing down your feelings, convincing yourself that moving on was the right thing to do. But now that he’s here, standing next to you again, everything you thought was buried deep inside resurfaces.

You can feel his gaze on you, steady, waiting for some kind of response, but all you can manage is silence. It’s not that you don’t know what to say it’s just that you’re afraid of saying the wrong thing.

The words finally break free when you speak quietly, your voice almost trembling. “I still care about you, Jack. I always have.”

You turn your head to meet his eyes, and there’s a vulnerability in them that you can’t hide anymore. He looks like he’s waiting for something more, something deeper, but you're not sure if you’re ready to give that yet.

“I never stopped loving you,” you admit softly, the words escaping before you even realize you’ve said them.

Jack’s expression softens, and you see the relief in his eyes. He’s been waiting to hear that for so long, and you know it. But at the same time, the confession feels like a weight you weren’t quite prepared for.

“But,” you add, your voice trembling slightly, “it’s not that simple. I can’t just go back to the way things were. I can’t pretend like everything that happened didn’t matter.”

Jack doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, nodding, waiting for you to continue.

“I still care about you,” you say again, this time with more certainty. “I still love you, but we can’t just jump right back into this. Not after everything. Not after how it ended. It’s not that easy.”

There’s a quiet understanding in his eyes, the kind that makes you feel seen and heard in a way you didn’t think was possible. But there’s also a hint of sadness, and you know it’s because he wants more. He wants to make things right. But you need time. You need space to figure out what it is you really want.

“I’m not asking you to forget everything,” Jack says, his voice low but steady. “I’m just asking for a chance. I haven't changed, it's just difficult.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe that the guy sitting next to you now is the same person who left for New Jersey, the one who shut you out when he needed you the most. But at the same time, part of you can’t help but wonder if it’s all just words.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know you want to fix things, Jack. And I want that too. But we need to take this slow. I need time. I can’t just rush back into something that hurt me so much.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s like he’s weighing your words, taking them in before he responds.

“I’m okay with that,” he says finally. “I don’t expect things to go back to normal overnight. I’m not going anywhere, though. I’ll be here. I just I need you to know that I want to make it right. I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You look at him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s not a guarantee. It’s not a promise that things will be easy, but it’s something. Something real.

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I can’t promise you anything right now, Jack. But I’m not going to shut you out. I’m not going to pretend like I still don't want to be with you.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been lingering between you two lifts just a little. It’s not perfect. It’s not fixed. But it’s a start.

“I’m okay with taking it slow,” Jack says quietly, his hand shifting closer to yours, but not quite reaching for it. He’s giving you the space you need.

You nod, glancing back at the water. The night feels different now, the air softer, like something is shifting. Maybe it’s not everything you want yet, but it’s something. Something you can work with.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” you whisper, the weight of those words settling into your chest. “But no promises.”

Jack smiles, a little more hopeful now, but he doesn’t push. He understands.

And for the first time in those six months since the break up, you feel like maybe just maybe this is the beginning of something real again. Something that can’t be rushed.

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ skz and the reason you aren't together !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: angst

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: i loveee me some angst so i hope you'll enjoy! <3 seungmin's part is slightly longer because i wrote it for my beloved keisy @starlostseungmin <3

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - he chose work over pursuing his feelings for you.

He knows how you feel about him, and you know how he feels about you. Things couldn’t be simpler.

But in reality, things were more complicated than ever. Yes, Chan did in fact confess, but with the same breath he also told you this could never go any further.

You were devastated, confused and sad, not understanding what was going on through that bright mind of his.

You liked each other, you both wanted this – so, what was the issue?

It wasn’t you, it could never be. It was him, as always.

He was too busy, his job too demanding to leave any room for you and the precious feelings you’ve developed for him.

Chan felt like he didn’t deserve your love, because he could never be there for you in the way you needed a boyfriend to be.

He could never be there every morning when you woke up, kiss you goodbye each time you left the house or greet you with a big hug when you returned. He just couldn’t, too caught up in work to even notice the hours tick by.

You didn’t deserve an absent lover, one that could not put you first.

No matter how much he cared, how much his whole being longed for you, his job would always be his main priority. Then, his seven brothers. While you, would end up being third on his list.

It pained him to admit it, and even more so admit it to you but since he respected you so much, you deserved nothing but the truth.

This information crushed you, every word that left his mouth a stone that contributed to the mountain you were quickly getting buried under.

“But I love you.”

He shook his head, brown curls getting into glossy eyes. “I love you too, but we – I, can’t.”

At the end, just as you were preparing to depart his studio, he stood up. Without thinking, you hugged tightly, aware this would be the last time before things would change forever.

“Please don’t be sad because of me.”

How could you not? How did he expect you to not mourn the beautiful relationship you could have had, if only he wasn’t so against it?

If only he would have chosen you.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - because he broke up with you.

Yeah, pro idol Minho ended your relationship on a random Thursday night, taking everyone but most importantly you, by complete surprise.

“Let’s break up.”

You can’t believe your ears, especially since you’re in his house, eating the food he just prepared for the both of you, in his kitchen while wearing one of his shirts.

Nothing was amiss, nothing even prompted it. Things have been going great in your relationship – there was no recent argument or disagreement that could explain his sudden decision.

Blames it on his work and his hectic schedule, trying to appear as detached and unaffected as he possibly could. But you know better; you see it all.

The way his fist clenches over the dish rag, how his eyes won’t meet yours even for a split second. This isn’t something he wants to do, not in the slightest. Yet, here he is, breaking both of your hearts for a reason he doesn’t even bother revealing.

It stings in the worst way possible, even more so when you stand up to hug him and he just puts a hand up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please, Y/n. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes and that’s when he looks away, slumping against the counter as a sniff reaches his ears. He’s gripping the wood with such force you’re afraid it might actually snap.

“Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”

But Minho doesn’t respond, not even as you start crying and begging him to talk to you, to tear down the wall he suddenly plopped right between you two in your relationship.

He’s so close, mere inches away, but his heart that belonged to you, that always responded to yours, is suddenly grabbed harshly out of your hands and shipped away to an unknown destination.

“Minho.” You sniff, not hiding your tears or the pain that’s slowly ripping your heart to pieces and letting them fall all the way down to your stomach, trying to escape from the torture. Because even the idea of not having him in your life was pure torture.

“I think you should go.”

He walks past you, head hung low as he throws the dish rag on the table without saying anything else, putting an end to the conversation. An end to your relationship. Throwing it all away like the time spent together meant absolutely nothing to him.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t, not like he’d ever let see you the way he broke down as you slammed the front door shut, walking out of his life for good. Even if you didn’t agree, it was better this way.

Your life was better, and happier, without him in it. That’s what he kept murmuring to himself as he slid to the ground, against his bedroom door, crying while clutching his chest, afraid his heart might stop beating.

It was all for the better.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - is already in a relationship.

The most stupid thing you can ever do in this lifetime is fall in love with someone who’s already in love with another.

Not only is he in love, he’s also in relationship that’s been going on for three beautiful years.

The thing is, you haven’t always had feelings for Changbin.

It was weird, really. For the longest time now, he was just your bubbly co-worker who laughed so loud the whole department could hear him. The mood maker of the company.

It happened on the annual Christmas party, where you drunk a little too much as you were nursing a broken heart after your ex dumped you out of the blue.

The whole world was spinning but you were happy – happier than you’ve been in months.

Noticing you could barely stand, Changbin ever the gentleman, offered to drive you home.

You complained and complained but after some more convincing from him, Changbin managed to coax you onto the passenger seat of his sports car.

You were silent the whole ride but as he parked on your driveway, he gasped, worriedly grasping your hands and exclaiming about the tears on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

But that’s when the dam broke and it all came to the surface, tears flowing freely down your face and neck as you sobbed, telling Changbin everything from beginning to end.

And he listened, holding your hands and nodding when appropriate, offering you the occasional sip of water or a tissue to wipe your face, not interrupting once.

His heart broke for you, unaware his mere presence was already working on mending yours.

The next morning, you almost didn’t show up to work as you remembered everything, how you made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone but especially Changbin. But something pushed you to do so.

As you arrived, a care basket was on your desk, accompanied by a little note with a crooked smiley face and then, he appeared, doing the exact same expression.

And you laughed, wholeheartedly. And you continued to do so as you began taking your lunch breaks together, working side by side and even taking turns on driving the other home.

Falling for him was inevitable, but you didn’t mind, all warm and fuzzy on the inside as the heart your ex broke was anew.

That is, until you met her. You and Changbin became so close that he couldn’t help but want to introduce you to his other half, the woman who loved him unconditionally that knew a little too much about you.

And just like that, your heart shattered once again, the pieces so tiny they were easily blown away in the wind, leaving behind a big whole were all of your love once resided. How could you be so stupid to believe someone could ever love you again?

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - you found out he was in love with someone else.

Plain and simple, as heartbreaking as it sounds.

Let me paint this picture: you two are best friends, each other’s safe places. You always talk about everything and anything with one another, feeling comfortable to share even your darkest secrets.

Because of that, you genuinely thought he might even reciprocate your feelings at some point.

But one day, as you’re both hanging out at your house, watching a movie, all of the hope and daydreams you held in your heart for a happy ending with him just get crushed.

He suddenly dumps this new information on you while he’s casually munching on some popcorn, watching the couple on the screen confess their love for each other like your heart didn’t just stop beating.

You’re so taken aback that you stop breathing for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

For some strange reason, Hyunjin doesn’t meet your gaze even as it goes silent between you two and your eyes keep burning holes into the side of his head.

Only when you finally tear your gaze away, eyes glossy as you try to murmur encouraging words does he finally turn to you.

His breath hitches in his throat at the sight but other than that, he doesn’t comment on it.

The whole ordeal feels like a slap in the face, hurting more than any physical injury you’ve ever sustained but, it’s not like you could blame anyone but yourself for it. You’ve missed your chance and now, Hyunjin was going to be in a happy relationship with someone else.

So, as expected from any best friend put in that situation, you say through gritted teeth.

“You should confess.”

Hyunjin searches your face for any sign of discomfort and finds many – but, as expected, doesn’t say anything, just looks away and nods slowly. Like he just can’t maintain eye contact for more than five seconds at a time.

And that’s the end of it. The whole vibe changes, now uncomfortable and cold and it’s clear that neither of you is paying any attention to the movie anymore.

But he still remains till the end, and when the credits start rolling, you stand up first and bid him goodnight without your usual warm smile or departing embrace before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest as your door slams shut, the tears in your eyes bringing him unexplainable sorrow.

And as he leaves your apartment that night, down in the dumps, you know things between you have changed forever.

Because that’s the last time you and Hyunjin talk.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - he hasn’t confessed yet.

Jisung has liked you for a while now but for some reason, every time he wanted to take that leap of faith and finally confess, something always came up.

You were interrupted, plans had to be cancelled or you were simply too busy to even talk to each other.

It was driving him insane, especially when he’d spot you at an event surrounded by people he felt he couldn’t push through, missing his chance at your attention every time.

He felt forced to watch you from the sidelines, a background character in your life that would never get his moment to shine.

You were friends, but he often felt he cared about you more than you cared about him and it was tearing him apart.

Each time you smiled or laughed at one of his jokes, everything around him disappeared as time seemed to come to a stop, making you look even more beautiful. Which was a hard thing to do since you were already perfect in his eyes.

His insecurities and crippling fear of rejection were literally ruining his life, preventing him from experiencing the love story he’s been yearning for.

Jisung was good at hiding his feelings from you, but sometimes, he slipped up.

Like that time, he held your waist for a little too long, or guided your hands over the piano keys like it was the most natural thing in the world. Those moments when he wasn’t overly conscious, when he got lost in the moment, were your favorite.

You see, in his mission to prevent you from discovering how insanely in love he was with you, Jisung managed to make you believe the opposite. That he hated you. Okay, maybe not hate, just strongly dislike.

Always avoiding being left alone with you, barely meeting your eyes or pulling away when you got a little too close. He seemed repulsed, and it hurt you.

Where you really that unpleasant in his eyes?

He was nice and bubbly around everyone else, no matter the gender. Why couldn’t he be the same Jisung whose smile made your heart skip several beats around you, too?

This went on for a long while, which solidified the idea he hated you in your head, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

One day, Jisung almost walked in on you and Felix…hugging on the practice room floor? His heart dropped, brows furrowing in confusion. Felix knew how he felt about you, he would never disregard that, right?

Everything clicked when he heard your muffled sobs and pained voice.

“I give up, Felix.” You said, hiding your face in his chest as a loud sob escaped you. “Jisung hates me, it’s official! I tried so, so hard but it was no use.” Felix murmured something back, deep voice uncharacteristically soft as he comforted you, caressing your back.

Jisung couldn’t hear what he said though, eyes filling with tears as the only thing resonating in his ears was the pounding of his own heart. You thought…he hated you?

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - because your relationship is too…complicated at the moment.

Complicated didn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the ray of sunshine.

He was your ex that somehow slithered his way back into your life again, only this time, as a friend. Not even, just an acquaintance that knew too many of your secrets and biggest aspirations.

There was no denying the feelings you still harbored for him, the flame flickering in your heart each time he was around; each time he spoke, he smiled, he laughed or even as much as looked at you, your heart thumped so loudly in your chest you were afraid he was able to hear it.

It was embarrassing, especially since he didn’t seem as affected.

Your relationship ended on a sour note – arguing, screaming, crying, the whole package.

Yet a few months later, when you happened to be at the same party, Felix accompanied by a friend walked up to you like nothing even happened, greeting you brightly.

It was horrible, and you almost cried right there and then, missing the way his doe eyes took in all of the little details that changed about you ever since you broke up, desperately committing them to memory.

Like he never wanted to forget, because he didn’t. Felix never wanted to forget about you, even if you didn’t love him anymore.

And so, this happened a few more times until the inevitable took place.

You kissed. And never spoke about it.

And then you kissed again, and again, until he was coming over to your house in the middle of the night to do more than kiss.

It messed with your head, the way he was looking at you – like you hung the stars on the night sky for him and him alone. Like he loved you and wasn’t breaking your heart each time those plush lips kissed every inch of your skin, worshipping every part of your body.

“Why do you keep coming back?” You’d whisper one night, resting your head on his naked chest as the moon bare witness to your unspoken feelings.

“You keep calling.”

“And when I’ll stop,” you move to look at him, face mere inches away from his, hands supporting your weight on his chest, “will you still come?”

He hesitates, staring straight into your eyes. “Most likely, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Yeah…complicated.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - because he is your best friend.

For most, the transition from best friends to lovers was as natural as breathing, something inevitable that was bound to happen one way or the other. Not for Seungmin.

He didn’t even allow his mind to go down that road, to think about being more than friends with you, one of the people he held the closest to his heart.

Not because he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, but because he was afraid.

Yes, he was afraid that once that line was crossed, the one that kept you firmly in place in the beautiful friendship that only blossomed and became very special over the years, it would all disappear.

Things would change and shift, which would bring forth your downfall.

In his eyes, the risk of fighting and breaking up was too big for him to even consider taking your relationship to the next level. He didn’t want to lose you, never.

But what he failed to take into account was that you would not stay single forever.

That’s why, the moment you skipped over to him and squealed about having a date, his heart almost stopped beating.

His world was spinning, like an earthquake started in his head which was quickly crumbling down every single wall and boundary, and rational decision he ever made over the years.

“You…have a date?” He gulped, ignoring the alarms going off in his head that were deafening him. “With who?”

“This guy from work.” You shrugged, excitement dimming as your gaze met his, serious. “He isn’t the one I like, but I guess it will have to do for now.”

Seungmin wasn’t stupid but his heart understood your allusion before his mind did, thumping loudly and stealing his breath away.

You were talking about him. You were going out with another guy but were thinking about him – he was the one you liked!

Still, he didn’t vocalize a response, choosing to nod and pat you on the back gently, staring at anything else other than the disappointment that overwhelmed your whole frame, making you appear oh so small.

The day of your date arrived sooner than he’d like, and Seungmin was miserable, especially since you texted him the location ‘just in case’.

Usually, he was more than happy to know where you were, safe and sound, but this time he would have preferred you didn’t let him know you were with another guy at the restaurant you frequented together.

Hours passed, and night was making its presence known, but still no sign from you. Was he worried? No. Because for once, you staying out meant the date was a success and you were having the time of your life with this guy that wasn’t him.

That’s until, a mere half an hour later, loud knocking had him off the couch in a second, opening the door to find you frowning, and with tears in your eyes. Opening his mouth to speak, shocked, thinking something had happened on the date, your finger hitting his chest stopped him.

“Why didn’t you come?” You sniffed. “I thought going out with someone else would finally prompt you to admit that what we have is more than a simple friendship! Do you hate me that much?”

He was speechless, grabbing you by the elbows as you barged in, tears streaming down your face.

“Answer me, Kim Seungmin!” Well, he was fucked.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - isn’t sure what he feels for you yet.

Or better yet, his commitment issues prevented him from admitting to any feelings he might have.

See, you weren’t just friends. You were a little more than that, spending most of your free time together going to cute cafes and what would be considered dates, acting all lovey dovey.

That is, when you weren’t spending the weekend bound to his bed. That wasn’t fair, sometimes he was the one tied up. A very mutual arrangement.

Jeongin managed to drag you into a situationship you were now too deep into to break off, having developed actual feelings.

But each time you tried to speak to him about said feelings, he’d close off quicker than a frightened snail, impossible to reach.

After each one of these occasions, he wouldn’t contact you for days on end, sometimes even weeks, leaving you wondering if he’d ever come back.

He always did, he couldn’t stay away from you no matter how much he tried.

Even if he messed with other people in that time, he’d still make his way back to you, smiling like nothing even happened and ready to give you all of his attention and affection again.

It was exhausting, and very, very painful.

But you still welcomed him back with open arms, too happy to see him to even care that each time he appeared in your life again, you were not the same.

Every time he disappeared and you didn’t say anything, a piece of your heart was ripped off harshly, stomped on and then thrown in the trash, devoid of any color or life. Like an old toy, forgotten in favor of a new, shiny one.

But Jeongin didn’t care. It’s not like he could be bothered to pick up your scattered pieces – they didn’t interest him, you did.

Not like he ever noticed the light in your eyes dimming each time he stormed back into your life after pretending you didn’t exist for weeks.

To be honest, you don’t think you’ll ever be together.

Not now, or in the future.

No matter how much you hated to admit it, the facts were neatly laid out before you – Jeonging didn’t care about you at all, no matter how sweet, loving or good you were to him.

He thought you couldn’t notice, that your love for him was too blinding for you to see anything else other than him.

But you did. And he also did when one day, for the first time since he met you, as he stumbled out of a bar, giddy and tipsy with his phone to his ear ready to hear your sweet voice, his call didn’t go through.

[laser-tripwires]

what is your read on the scene in the pilot where eliot and nate are playing pool? do you think eliot was being genuinely empathetic or just making small talk? was eliot genuinely hurt by nate?

neither, and both. he wasn't making small talk, he wasn't genuinely hurt, but it's more complicated than that. that scene exists for a wide number of reasons, and very few of those reasons actually have anything to do with eliot. nate is the protagonist, and that scene is arguably the most important character exposition we get on him in the entirety of the nigerian job - BUT there's still a lot you can read about eliot and the team dynamics as a whole, as well as foreshadowing for the wider show.

the scene actually opens not with the pool game, but with hardison pulling nate over to tell him he got dubenich's financials. i call this out because - in the original pilot script? this got cut off from the pool scene by a dubenich interlude which didn't make it into the final show.

now, that's probably information management - much, much easier to focus on nate and eliot's convo if we're not thinking about what dubenich is doing, and the exposition from the dubenich mini-scene wasn't very important. but there's another reason, too -

nate smiles and claps a hand on hardison's shoulder before heading back over to the pool game. it's a fatherly moment! a lot of the nigerian job is dedicated to setting up nate's relationships with the trio (the fact that parker gets mentorship instead of fatherliness in this ep is kinda long goodbye job foreshadowing, even if likely unintentional), and this reiterates that he's gonna be a father to hardison. it's placement just before this conversation with eliot is also telling us that this relationship with the team is going to be the thing that heals nate, which eliot all but says aloud a minute or so later (i'll get there).

right, so the next beat of the scene is eliot offering nate a beer and nate refusing. which is... interesting, given as nate was practically drinking himself to death at the beginning of this episode and will spend the rest of the season doing just that. he clearly has an issue with alcohol and that's clearly being set up to be a large part of his arc. so refusing a drink is significant, and we cut from a wide shot (featuring some truly adorable parker lockpicking, parker picks locks like other people knit) into eliot and nate's game because like eliot, we're curious about this.

nate takes his pool shot - eliot looks to nate, to the beer bottle, and back to nate. he's not paying attention to the pool game because eliot is very smart and has just picked up on the thing i pointed out to all of you a second ago - that refusal of the beer is weird and significant. nate's doing better - which eliot says.

nate almost looks up at eliot but takes his shot instead, and eliot continues. nate mutters a "yeah," without looking at eliot. which eliot again notices, and points out that it bothers nate.

eliot's turned around and sat on the pool table now. his focus isn't on the game anymore, it's on nate. it's really hard to critique this scene from eliot's perspective because the whole point of the scene is to get us as the audience inside nate's head, and eliot's needling is the vehicle through which we do that - he's asking the questions and making the assumptions that we as the audience are doing here. nate's a prickly bastard.

nate does, however, admit that it bothers him. with another of those despondant yeahs. he moves away from the pool and towards eliot, but still isn't looking eliot in the eye. "I mean, this isn't supposed to feel-"

"Good?"

camera change on eliot's line there so we get a better look at eliot's face, and nate's finally looking at him. "good" is likely not the descriptor that nate would have stammered out if his sentence had been allowed to continue, but eliot's a blunt person and more importantly eliot's not wrong. he then smiles, which catches nate off-guard, and after a beat eliot continues.

"It's not hard to figure out. Dubenich screwed ya. He cheated by stealing from that other company and your good guy brain sees him as the bad guy. Your conscience is clear."

midway through that speech, we cut to nate's reaction so we're watching him instead of eliot. he's stony. everything eliot's saying is correct, and most of it is explaining subtext that the audience should already have picked up on. but, y'know. nate is a prickly bastard.

(side note on the script again - the change from "ripped you off" to "screwed ya" is a great example of the kind of edits that get made on the fly after you cast actors with certain affects. not relevant here but i think it's cool - WISH we had the scripts for the rest of the show, because the amount to which this one is useful for analysis and insight cannot be overstated.)

now's when it gets interesting. without a change in facial expression, nate asks eliot if he wants to take his shot - he's not quite interrupting, but he's also clearly trying to cut the conversation short. there's two possible meanings to that line - one, nate's meaning, of shut the fuck up and keep playing. two, the subtextual meaning and what eliot takes it as, which is; get to the point.

eliot takes another swig of beer, nods, and we cut to a close up of him as he pauses and reconsiders the tack of the conversation. i very very much read this as eliot trying to figure nate out here - he had a hypothesis about the state of things, and nate's response let him know he was on the right tack. it's worth remembering that (despite what people tend to percieve him as) eliot is an extremely emotionally intelligent character, and that's being established here as well as everything else.

so he starts out another speech, looking nate in the eye - it's the most intimate moment of the conversation so far, and that's important. "Listen, I'm sorry about your kid."

to me, it's abundantly clear that eliot could have kept talking from there, made whatever point he was about to. but he leaves the space open for nate to respond. small talk is the wrong word for this, and eliot's not exactly feeling out an emotional connection; but he is clearly and deliberately giving nate the opportunity to open up and respond, both out of genuine empathy and (as we already saw) a desire to unpick a little more of what makes nate tick. that's part of eliot's job, after all. he is being a nice person here.

and nate... well, nate's expression doesn't change. the sensible and expected thing to do here would be to say, y'know, thanks, and then move on with the game. but, as i've already said, nathan ford is a prickly bastard. worth pulling up the script again here:

because yeah, he shuts down. we're two thirds of the way through the pilot episode and once again this is serving as exposition for the viewer - nate is in a lot of emotional pain, and he doesn't exactly do touchy-feely feelings. he'd much rather hide at the bottom of a bottle than sort out his issues. anger, and grief, and anger.

now, eliot says that "everybody knows." he half whispers that line, which i think is a really great touch - it's a lot more tender in tone than the response could have been, and i don't think nate picks up on that. my reservations on them as people aside, christian kane and timothy hutton's acting throughout this scene is superb. it's hard to explain, but eliot's affect changes for the next line - "Guy like you goes off the street, a lot of people notice." he's still almost whispering, but he's trying to tug the conversation a little bit towards levity. the emphasis on "a lot" is almost jokey - people smarter than me have pointed out that eliot in early season one has a soft sarcastic vibe that isn't present for a lot of the rest of the show. it's a continuation of what we saw earlier in the episode in the hospital scene.

but once that's said, he halts, and we see his eyes soften a little - he stops quite meeting nate in the eye.

it's a soft little moment of comprehension. eliot has lost a lot of people close to him, and has witnessed the deaths of many innocent children. he absolutely does know what nate is feeling. arguably, bereavement destroyed eliot's life infinitely more than it did nate's. so we get a genuine flash of empathy here. he's thought about this, after hearing of it, maybe before even taking the job for dubenich. "And it was a bad story, too."

we cut back to nate for a second there. he's lost - trapped in a hospital in los angeles rather than a penthouse in chicago. as a first time viewer, though, we don't quite know what he's thinking.

so eliot asks. "How'd they justify that, huh? The insurance company, just... not paying for his treatment?"

and the thing is, coming from someone who's watched seven seasons of eliot being unfailingly protective of every child and vulnerable party who's crossed his path... i genuinely think eliot meant that. yeah, not as an actual question, but as comiseration and sympathy for what he can tell is an awful situation.

but this is nate's show. and we're in nate's head. so we follow nate, across three years of anger and pain and into that hospital room. we see for the first time where nate's standing here, the depths of that sorrow in the moments before it manifested.

worth noting that it's not the full scene - nate running in to grab sam's body was filmed with the pilot but cut back to be saved for the finale, which was a damn good choice. but even what we see here is enough to fully ground us in nate's backstory - we've been watching him dance around in chaos for most of an episode, clearly greiving his son, and now we see the cause of all that hurt. once again, this exchange makes much more sense from the perspective of the writers trying to establish and expand on crucial emotional beats.

when we flash back to nate and eliot, the camera angle has changed. noteable, because we were on a solid back-and-forth talking shot for a minute or so there, and this fully segments the scene instead of plopping us back where we just were.

we've just experienced first-hand the spiral that nate's thoughts have gone down. he answers eliot, still lost in thought - "They claimed it was experimental."

from eliot's perspective, that's a response to his question and an accepting of his empathy. from our perspective, it's an anguished statement of pondering, the re-rotation of a thought that's been trapped in nate's head for three fucking years. they claimed. he is, as we will see in the david episodes, so, so, so angry.

eliot smirks, then drinks. we cut back to his face and the original camera angles. his is where the pilot rewrite between scripting and shooting is the most obvious - in the original script, nate picks up the beer, and that's what prompts eliot's next line.

in the filmed episode, we stick instead on nate's face and let eliot continue. the emotional beat is identical, but it places a greater emphasis on nate's pain and eliot's powers of perception. it's an unimportant script edit, but an interesting one.

what happens next... "Should have kept one of those Monets you found, hm? You fence that -" and it's only at this point nate actually interjects.

i don't think eliot here is deliberately being insensitive nor do i think he's directly trying to just raise nate's spirits. you gotta remember that we as the viewers in nate's head for this scene, not eliot's, and from eliot's perspective the tone has just gotten less gut-wrenching, not more - but eliot's also, as i previously noted, an extremely emotionally intelligent person. it's why i've gone through the whole scene instead of jumping directly to this bit you asked me about, because i really do think the full context is needed to understand.

so, nate interrupts. "Eliot, you and I are not friends."

this is again where context is so important. it's not that he cares about what eliot's actually saying (though i could write a very different essay about how that line of eliot's is lampshading a pretty obvious plothole) but that he's just had to forcibly pull himself back to the present day and he thinks eliot's being annoying and would like him to shut up now, please. not all that different from him asking eliot to take his shot earlier, really, though i think eliot picks up on the curtness.

nate raises his eyebrows. it's a nice attempted reversal of power dynamics - yes he has just interrupted and been rude, but he also immediately attempts to swing the conversation's psycoanalysis onto eliot and why are you talking to me about this i don't know you. of course, we as the viewer can tell nate's in deflective mode, but we'd expect eliot to take it at face value -

which. he doesn't. we get this super interesting little "oh... right." face, and i think it's less eliot realising he's struck a nerve (though it also is that) as it is eliot properly clicking in to what nate's thinking here. i stress again that eliot really is a tremendously emotionally intelligent character, definitely moreso than nate is, and that's reflected in this scene. both of them bounce off one another here a little bit differently to how you'd expect them to just looking at archetypes, and it's this kind of thing that makes the leverage pilot so good.

because eliot picks up on the messaging nate's putting down, the prickly i'm-not-having-an-emotional-conversation-with-a-criminal-i-just-met facade, but he also kinda sees right through it. "...Right. 'Cause you have so many of them."

and it's again this softly sarcastic vibe that's pretty unique to early season one eliot, but it really works here in reestablishing that A) eliot's more observant than nate is giving him credit for, B) he's not going to let nate get away with being tacitly kind of a dick, C) he's really not easily rattled and D) eliot is as much of a chaos gremlin as the rest of the team. this is not the affect of a man actually hurt by what nate said.

all in all, good stuff. but now for the reason i dug the script out to begin with - the ending. it's a well-known piece of trivia that they shot the pilot without a defined ending for the next nate/sophie beat only for aldis to improv the world's best "oooooooh," but what's really fun is if you know that this is because the nate/sophie beat here was actually a late addition. in the script, eliot and nate's conversation finishes like this:

and end scene. eliot still gets the final word, so as to speak, but nate gets a lot more quiet reflection and a much more overt point that nate and eliot are at least peers if not friends right now. but here, instead, sophie presumably starts walking towards nate off-camera and eliot steps back - "Incoming."

and then we're on to nate and sophie, and the scene continues with a new focus as nate is left reeling.

but i really, really like the ending we get because it's that same establishment of peership, of eliot calling out nate's crap, but also of the fact that the power dynamics here aren't as they'd first seem. nate's greiving too much. eliot understands but isn't gonna let it get to him or impact the team. this... is all crucial as far as character establishment is concerned.

this answer got long. i think that this scene is just so, so important for establishing both nate and eliot's characters - and i think people miss an infinite amount of nuance when they take the surface-level reading that eliot said something which annoyed nate and nate was mean. that's very much not what happened, but it also kinda is, and it's what makes this so fun to pick apart. eliot and nate have a fascinating relationship, and it's one that's all too often overlooked. here's john rogers's take on it:

and... yeah!!! you can see all that really clearly in this scene. they respect one another, but that doesn't mean they have to like one another, at least not yet. it's good stuff.

[howlett-dekarios]

𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜.

▏Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

▏Summary: Your past boyfriends planted in your brain the idiotic vision of how exactly you're supposed to care about your appearance and how you need to be clean shaved all the time. Logan proves you how a real man should treat his woman.

▏Warnings: just pure fluff | suggestive themes | MDNI

▏Word count: 1,5k

▏A/n: Let's be honest: Logan lived for over 200 years, he can't give a fuck about a little hair on his lover.

You love your late night movie marathons with Logan. These small moments are basically the only ones which aren’t including Wade. At first you two agreed on your friend being the part of it but after he got together with Ness again, you have more time to enjoy yourselves. Talk about nothing while TV is just background noise. 

Never before you’ve been feeling so safe. A simple knowledge of Logan being nearby, scent of cigars and his cologne calming your nerves after an exhausting day at work. 

The first time you saw this guy you were so sure about him not liking you. His routine reduced to sitting on the couch in complete silence, nodding at you from time to time as a way of showing you his acknowledgement of you living here too. 

Of course Wade told you his story. Why he has to stay here, not paying rent which by this point is only secured because of you working your ass off to provide for four people. But with every day Logan showed more and more interest. Not just in you but in trying to be better. Helping with cleaning the dishes or doing groceries. Cooking dinner when you’ve been too tired to even think about eating anything. And soon enough, after one of your girls nights out and him picking you up from bar, he ended up in your bed. 

You were so sure that it would only complicate your relationship. Mess the somehow warm bond formed on mutual respect. But you couldn’t have been more wrong. He admitted that from the beginning he has perceived you as the beautiful and kind woman, having absolutely no idea why the hell you’ve still lived with Wade. That he feared about scaring you away by how broken man he was. 

And here you are now, laying on his chest slowly falling asleep with a bowl of popcorn on your chest. If that is what home feels like, then you don’t want to ever be anywhere else. 

“You with me, love?” You can feel his lovely smirk even though you can’t see it. 

“W-what?” His voice woke you up, getting you out of your own head. Looking at the TV you saw a completely different movie playing and you smiled to yourself. Nothing new for you to zone out like this. “Sorry, been somewhere else.” 

“I can tell.” His low chuckle was the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“So, what are we watching now?” 

“Dunno, wasn’t paying attention.” It made both of you laugh. For Logan the film was just a background noise, the most perfect and memorable image staged in front of his face. His whole world held tight. His big hand slowly started to move towards your bare leg under the blanket, which immediately tensed you up, moving it further from his grip, wrapping it tightly with the warm covering. “What’s wrong?” His voice grew more stern. It’s not  like Logan demands from you to let him touch you, but the fact of how abruptly you retreated,.. he is worried. Maybe he did something wrong. 

“Nothing, Lo.” You tried to smile and leave the topic but he didn’t let you.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. What have I done?” 

“Nothing!” You assured him, your words honest enough to make him believe you. Something was still off though and Logan made a point of finding out what it is. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“You are tense.” A simple observation. He doesn’t need to have heightened senses to know it. How your body is ready to move away. Logan brought your legs closer, trying to caress them once again, but without any luck. “Darling, what’s wrong.” His voice was demanding but still gentle. 

“It’s just… I haven’t shaved.” You admitted, embarrassed, trying to somehow hide from him. 

In your previous relationships, your exes expected you to be smooth and always shaved. Telling you how it was for the sake of hygiene and woman taking care of herself. Not wanting to be intimate or even touch you because of how disgusted they were by the small light hairs on your body. It root so deeply inside you that even while being single you’ve been getting rid of all your body hair, spending horrendous money on razors and waxing strips. 

But because of you having cold, you haven’t been able to go to shop for new ones. You didn’t want to ask Logan to buy you them, feeling ashamed of yourself for not having stocked some. It shouldn’t be his concern nor responsibility to spend money because of your stupidity. 

“Come again?” Logan prayed that he just misheard what you’ve just said. 

“I haven’t shaved.” You said a bit louder, defeated by the fact he found out. “I know it’s gross and I promise I will-“ 

But he didn’t let you finish. Switching your places so now he is the one on top of you, looking almost mad. 

“Listen to me very carefully, princess.” He caressed your hair gently, putting the string behind your ear. “I do not fucking care.” 

Why would he? It’s such a ridiculous thing that absolutely doesn’t change anything. He could imagine why or rather how planted thai bullshit in your head. Some young assholes that dicks weren’t even able to make you cum. But if you really thought that some hair would scare him away, make him not want to touch you, to devour you? Then you really don’t know him well enough. 

“You think I don’t wanna do this?” The blanket was thrown away, Logan slowly taking your sweats off, leaving you just in panties. Well now it was clear to him why you so suddenly decided to sleep in them the last few days. His lips gently pressed pecks on your calves and thighs. 

“Logan!” 

“Shh, darling, now I’m the one who’s speaking.” He wasn’t satisfied until your bare skin was cared with enough time and attention. “Fuck, you’re so perfect. My beautiful little miracle.” His palm caressed your cheek, while he kissed your lips lightly, the gesture full of admiration which made you blush. 

“But… I don’t understand.” You’re so confused. This is the opposite of what you’ve been used to in your past relationships. “Boys don’t like… don’t want-“ 

He shut you with another kiss, other hand firmly holding your thigh. 

“Yeah, exactly, baby. These idiots were boys who didn't know how to treat a goddess. I’m the man, sweetheart. I adore you. Every single part of your body. I can’t care less about you being shaved or not. I would love to have those legs around my head any second of the day, you understand?” His eyes were expecting any sort of answer but you were too stunned to ever say anything, so you just nod. “You’re a woman not a child and you don’t need to shave for me, princess. You expect me to be clean shaved?” Your head shook instantly. You loved his hair chest and how soft it was when your face was cuddled into him every morning. “Exactly. If you want to shave because you’re feeling better like that then it’s all fine, but don’t you dare assume that I’m thinking any less of you because you’re not, we clear?” 

“I… yes.” You honestly feel like crying. That’s one of the reasons why you loved Logan so bad. How he accepts you in every form, leaving you a choice to decide about yourself.

“Good. I think I need to prove it to you, though.” He teased your inner thigh with his big fingers, leavening a trail of kisses down your neck. “Just so you get it in your little head how this works me up.” 

“Lo…” You whined, his touch making you squirm. "I can't-"

“None of this, darling. Too late.” 

Week later you wake up, feeling aroused. A nice little thought comes to your mind and you quickly get your hips on both sides of Logan, sitting on his legs and wanting to wake him up with the nice sight. When he fully hardened and you were ready to blow him, his arm stopped you from taking his member in your mouth. You look up confused why the hell you are denied your sweet pleasure.  

“Fuck, I’m not shaved, princess.” His voice still rough from sleep, but his eyes are fully focused on you, smart smile undeniable. Teasing you by reminding you about your past stupid insecurity that he already had got rid off. 

“Oh shut up, idiot.” You blush a bit, can’t stop yourself from chuckling at that. With a simple shake of head you got back to the work, this time nothing stops your movement. 

[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[bellfilmz]

Only you know

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rafe x foreigner!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Rafe Cameron falls for a secret online girlfriend and brings her into his world, risking everything to keep her his.

⸻

Rafe Cameron wasn’t exactly the type of guy people imagined sitting on FaceTime with his feet kicked up, grinning like an idiot. Especially not for a girl who lived halfway across the world. But here he was—lying on his stomach in bed, hoodie pulled over his messy hair, phone propped up against a pillow as you talked about your day.

You were everything the Outer Banks wasn’t. Sweet. Private. Real. And best of all—you didn’t know him from the tabloids or the reputation he’d somehow become a slave to. When you met online, neither of you had any idea who the other was. Just usernames. Messages that stretched into the night. And slowly, a friendship that twisted into something deeper.

Something Rafe had kept hidden. Even from Sarah.

“Are you nervous?” you asked, voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “I mean… about seeing me in person?”

Rafe scoffed, flipping onto his back. “Nah. I’m excited. I’ve already seen your face like a thousand times. You can’t catfish me at this point.”

You rolled your eyes on the screen. “I could be a deepfake.”

“If you are, then I’m the happiest victim ever.”

Your laugh made his stomach flutter. It always did.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” you reminded him, biting your lip. “No backing out now.”

“I already booked the hotel for you. I’m picking you up myself. It’s happening.”

He ended the call reluctantly, but not before you blew him a kiss through the screen. Rafe stared at the black screen of his phone for a long time after that, chest heavy in a way he didn’t fully understand.

⸻

The next day, he stood at the airport—sunglasses low on his nose, hat pulled down to hide from any nosy locals that might spot the infamous Cameron heir. He knew this was risky. Someone was bound to notice. But he didn’t care.

Because then he saw you.

You walked through the automatic doors, dragging your suitcase behind you, scanning the crowd. And when your eyes found his, that slow, beautiful smile spread across your face. Like you already knew he’d be there. Like you were just as sure about this as he was.

He walked toward you—fast. Pulled you into a tight hug before either of you could say a word. You fit perfectly against him. Smaller than he expected. Real.

“I can’t believe this,” you whispered into his hoodie. “You’re actually real.”

He leaned back, cupping your cheek. “I told you. I don’t lie. Not to you.”

⸻

The hotel room he booked was quiet, sleek, and far from the chaos of Figure Eight. Rafe didn’t want you tangled up in his world—not yet. He wanted a few days where you were his. Just his.

You sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through a list of local places you wanted to check out, while Rafe leaned against the wall and watched you. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were here. Breathing the same air.

“You’re staring,” you teased, not looking up.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this,” he admitted.

You met his eyes, expression softening. “So have I.”

Silence stretched for a beat. Then—

“Does anyone know I’m here?” you asked quietly.

Rafe hesitated. “No. Just me.”

Your brows lifted slightly, but you didn’t push. “Keeping me a secret?”

He sat beside you, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Not forever. Just for now. It’s not you, it’s this place. It’s… complicated.”

You nodded. “I trust you.”

God, that meant everything.

⸻

The next couple days were perfect. You were jet-lagged, a little overwhelmed, but happy. Rafe took you to small spots—quiet beaches, places no one knew about. He even cooked breakfast for you in the hotel suite one morning, shirtless and smug while you laughed at how badly he cracked the eggs.

He had never felt more normal. More seen.

But reality always creeps back in.

On the third day, he got a text from Kelce:

“Where the hell u at? Sarah said ur ghosting again. We on the boat tmrw. U in?”

You peeked over his shoulder. “Friend?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Persistent one.”

You leaned against him. “Are you going to tell them yet?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Not yet.”

But when he looked at you, there was something fierce in his eyes. Something protective. “They don’t get this. They don’t get you. I don’t wanna ruin it before it even has a chance.”

You tilted your head. “So… what are we doing, Rafe?”

He exhaled. “We’re falling in love.”

You blinked. “That’s… bold.”

“I’m not shy with you.”

you smirked. “No, you’re really not. Just shy enough to keep me hidden.”

He reached for your hand, threading your fingers through his. “I want this. You. I flew you out for a reason. I’ve never done this before. Never wanted to.”

You studied him quietly, heart thudding.

“Then let’s not waste it,” you said softly.

⸻

That night, he didn’t take you to a hotel or a restaurant. He took you to the back roads near the water, sat with you in the car as the moonlight danced across the waves. Music low. The two of you sharing secrets in the dark.

It was messy. It was risky.

But in that moment, Rafe Cameron didn’t care what anyone thought.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t running from something.

He was running to someone.

⸻

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[sukifoof]

hii i was talking about this on twitter so i think i will just copy paste it here cuz i’ll probably delete it there at some point <3 twitter frightens me but i love my mutuals here we are all insane about flowey in the same way

 i think saying “you’re the type of friend i wish i always had” is a really important thing for asriel to admit... this whole time asriel has dealt with so much grief and guilt about chara that it separated the actual person chara from the idealized version of them in his head who he has never stopped grieving. its a huge part of his character that hes unable to view them as they were because that’s just how his ptsd and guilt affects him. as someone who went through a similar thing that kind of grief can mess with your head and how you view yourself and the person who’s gone really badly. the pacifist route, for flowey’s character specifically, is a really good example of how grief and ptsd can make you feel disconnected from yourself, everyone around you, and like if only the person you lost was back everything would be perfectly fine again. the fact that he can admit they weren’t perfect and that he made the right decision is a huge character development that we don’t get to see in the no mercy route because he’s still convinced that this idealized version of them birthed from bereavement will make everything okay. similarly to how he believed toriel might have been able to fix him, he wants to believe there’s someone out there that could somehow return him to who he was before being traumatized, but the reality of it is this is just who he is.

his grief and trauma is a huge part of who he is like it is with real people, but it doesn’t have to be all of him. i think the emphasis the fandom puts on whether chara was Good Or Bad completely misses the point that it doesn’t really. matter i guess?? they were a kid people loved and now they’re gone. we're seeing people deal with the grief this brought and we know so little of who they are because there’s also a degree of separation about who they are to the people they loved as well. idk i hope this makes sense i think a lot about how chara is a kid who hated humanity and calls themself a demon. to me that just shows an EXTREMELY traumatized child with self hatred. i don’t know why there was ever this huge moral argument about chara when they’re literally just a kid with issues. they weren’t taught how to deal with how they felt and likely held themself in lower regard compared to the dreemurrs. its the same thing with asriel, he feels responsible for them being gone and his own trauma. he just wants a friend who can teach him to understand his grief or someone who can at least let him view the situation for how it really is

i just think. flowey is so well written but not understood very well by the fandom because the type of thing he’s gone through is kind of hard to grasp. it’s a weird situation that doesn’t have a completely black or white Is He Or Chara At Fault kind of answer. they were children. people are complicated and want someone to blame when something goes wrong and flowey directed that at himself. hes such a fascinating and well written character i love him dearly i hope u guys understand how insane he makes me <3

[copper-16]

The Beginning

The decision to have a baby, as well as how the Barcelona girls find out about Ingrid's pregnancy (confusion ensues, as it always does).

(a/n: repeat after me: thank you @lucawrites11 for sending me the picture of Mapi with a child so I could write this and not end up down an internet rabbit hole of trying to find a picture of Mapi with a child! This was highly requested, so I hope you guys enjoy it!)

They were sitting together on the couch watching a movie when Ingrid brings it up, less because she had intentionally thought through doing so and more because the words tumble out of her. 

“I want a baby with you,” she blurts out, her eyes widening at her own candor. Mapi seems equally as shocked, fumbling to get the remote and turn the movie off, the conversation at hand exponentially more interesting than whatever they were watching. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t…I don’t know why I said that,” the Norwegian shakes her head, but Mapi stops her as she moves closer, her focus now solely on Ingrid. 

“No, no, clearly you did. Where is your mind?” The Spaniard asked thoughtfully, because she could tell this was something Ingrid had been thinking about. 

All week, ever since they had a big win in the Champions League last Saturday, the dark haired woman had been a little bit quiet. Not in a bad way necessarily, but Mapi could tell that something was on her wife’s mind. Something was bothering her, but she had simply been waiting for Ingrid to come to her before she did something about it. 

“We have a plan,” Ingrid started nervously, playing with her own fingers as she looked down at her lap where they lay. 

And it was true, they did have a plan. They had gotten married a little over a year before, had just bought a house together. They were going to wait a few years to have children, until Mapi had retired and then they would adopt. 

Ingrid knew she was throwing a wrench in the meticulously planned setup, but she couldn’t help it. She says as much, trying to explain her thought process. 

“We have a plan, but every time I see you with a kid or a baby I can’t help but want one with you. My ovaries feel like they are going to burst, and I just know you would be the best Mami and I well…” Ingrid stopped herself with a sigh. Mapi was showing absolutely no emotion, simply observing the defender and trying not to give anything away as to her own thoughts. 

“I know it would be a lot more complicated, but I don’t want to wait. We are stable, and I know we are both playing but I see more and more players having kids and I just…I feel like we could do it. I want a little baby that is you and me, I want to experience all of it,” Ingrid couldn’t decide if she was begging her wife to do this or trying to talk herself out of it, but either way Mapi softened when she saw how misty eyed the Norwegian was growing. 

“Oh Ingrid, come here,” she replied gently, bringing the green eyed woman into her arms and hugging her firmly. She rubbed her hand up and down the dark haired woman’s back for a moment, before she pulled back slightly. 

“Princesa, I want that with you too, of course I do,” Mapi promised, as Ingrid paused, looking up at her wife’s face with confusion. 

“You do? But we had…we had the whole plan!” She exclaimed, brushing away her own tears as she sat up, now a little lost. She was getting conflicting accounts, and her confusion persisted when Mapi appeared to grow a bit guilty, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“I don’t…I really want kids but I do not want to carry them. And I didn’t want to put that on you, so I suggested the plan instead so neither of us would have to sacrifice our careers,” the brunette admitted, feeling a little bit bad about it. She wanted kids, very badly in fact, but the thought of carrying them held absolutely no appeal to her whatsoever. And given her own negative thoughts on the matter, she had absolutely no intention of making her wife feel like she had to carry their kids, if she didn’t want to. 

“Oh my god Mapi no, I want to carry,” Ingrid gushed, realizing with a flush of hope that she might not be entirely crazy or alone in her desires. “I only went along with the plan because you seemed so insistent!” 

The center back appeared skeptical, if nothing else. 

“Ingrid, are you sure? This is a big decision, I do not want it to be something we decide lightly, and then you regret it later on. You would have to stop playing for upward of a year, it might end up being very rough, I know that–” Mapi just keeps going on and on, and after a moment the Norwegian has to stop her, a hand on her wife’s knee. 

“I have thought about it. And we can talk more about it, sure, but I have definitely thought about it. If we started a transfer soon in the new year, we could have the baby in the winter of next, and by the time the new season rolls around I should be good to come back fully. My contract runs for long enough that it would work, and I spoke to Jonatan already about a renewal after that. I think it makes sense to do it now,” Ingrid explained, as the Spaniard listened to her thoughtfully. 

“You have thought about it,” she concedes, trying not to allow herself to grow too excited. The thought of a baby, her own baby with Ingrid, was more than something to be thrilled about. 

“The only thing is…” Ingrid trails off, and the amber eyed woman’s eyebrows furrow in an instant, as she leans in toward the Norwegian. 

“What is it?” She asked softly, the care in her voice quite clear. 

“I don’t think I would want to do it more than once. At least not right now…after I retire perhaps? But I don’t want to take off playing like that a whole second time,” she admitted, and Mapi’s entire body softened. 

“That is completely understandable. We can start with the one, and go from there,” she replied very matter-of-factly. Ingrid bit her lip just slightly, feeling a flush rise up in her cheeks because of the excitement. 

“Does this mean we’re having a baby?” She asked, her voice filled with hope. Mapi appeared to be tearing up beside her as well, a surprise considering that the brunette was not usually a crier. 

“I think we might be,” the center back confirmed, as both of their hearts flew with excitement. 

—

“Are you sure I can’t come in?” Mapi pleaded for what was probably the seventeenth time in the span of a minute, and Ingrid took a deep breath before answering. 

“I said I wanted you out there, so just stay. I will be out in less than five minutes, I know you can go longer than five minutes without seeing me!” The dark haired woman called back from behind the closed door. 

The Norwegian was in the bathroom, having just peed on a stick, while her wife camped right outside the door, her cheek pressed against the wood. Ingrid had said she wanted to do this alone, and Mapi respected that…almost. 

But at least her incessant pestering would be good practice for when the baby came. 

If…if there was even a baby to come. Ingrid didn’t really feel all that different since her insemination two weeks ago, which felt more like a bad sign than a good one. Surely she would have felt different if she was pregnant, right? 

The doctor did say that there was a chance it wouldn’t work on the first try, but the thought made Ingrid far too discouraged to even begin to think of. She would cross that bridge if she came to it, she decided. 

“Three minutes is up!” Mapi called out from behind the closed door, her clock app open. 

“Okay, I’m looking,” Ingrid called out, while the Spaniard paced back and forth outside the door. She wanted to respect the Norwegian’s boundaries, she really did, but she was equally as eager as her wife to know if they were pregnant. 

After the taller woman had said she was going to check, the silence in their house seemed to stretch for an endless amount of time. The brunette waited with her breath held, and as the time stretched on longer and longer she began to grow more and more worried that it was not going to be a positive result. 

Just as she was about to say something though, the door to the bathroom went flying open, and the dark haired woman was shoving the pregnancy test in her face. 

“It is positive!” She squealed, clapping her hands together as Mapi took the test, staring down at it with huge eyes. 

“It worked?!” She asked, looking up at Ingrid with alarm. When the green eyed woman nodded, tears immediately began to well up in her eyes. The Norwegian’s excitement dulled just slightly, suddenly concerned about the Spaniard beginning to cry. 

“No, no, amor, it is good! It is a good result, no?” Ingrid asked, gripping her wifes shoulders as Mapi nodded her head insistently, fat, bumble bee like tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“It’s a perfect result!” She sobbed, blubbered practically, and Ingrid looked at her wife as though she had grown a second head. 

Mapi was not a crier. The Spaniard was typically a very happy person, and when she was not, it wasn’t typical to find her crying. Ingrid was pretty sure she could count on both hands the number of times she had seen the center back cry, even now that they were married. 

So to see her crying was…unusual, if not a tiny bit alarming. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, as Mapi reaches down to touch her hand gently to Ingrid’s stomach, and she’s crying and smiling brightly all at the same time, somehow.

“I am SO happy,” she replied easily, and Ingrid felt herself relaxing as she realized that they were happy tears, and that everything was okay. 

“Hola mi sol, we are so excited to meet you, we are so thrilled that you are here,” Mapi whispered to Ingrid’s stomach, and the Norwegian now found herself tearing up as she realized what this really meant. 

They were having a baby. 

—

The decision was made not to tell the team until Ingrid was thirteen weeks along. 

All of the necessary staff was informed, and the Norwegian had been cleared to continue playing as she usually did, if not a bit more on the light side. But it was nothing to arouse attention, and honestly the pregnancy had been going very smoothly. She hardly had any symptoms, and if it were not for the continued positive tests and the fact that her breasts were so tender, she would not have believed she was pregnant. 

But the thing that is absolutely going to break their cover? 

Mapi fucking León. 

In the last several weeks, the brunette had gone from her usual, slightly emotionally repressed self, to a complete and utter puddle. 

All of the sudden she was crying at the world's most random things. A cute cat video, Alexia saying she had a good day at training, Jana announcing her renewal at Barcelona. 

Which was very cute…if not for the fact that she had already known about the announcement for several weeks now already. And all of the girls were starting to grow 

“Mapi, they’re going to catch onto us,” Ingrid whispered harshly to her wife as they walked out to the car, her gaze more than a little judgemental. The amber eyed woman looked back at her with absolutely no amusement, clearly not thrilled by the feedback. 

“I do not know what to tell you amor I cannot just turn it off! I don’t know how you do it,” she grumbled as a stray tear leaked out of her eye, and Ingrid shot her a look. 

“What do you mean–how I do it?” She questioned with a raised brow, and Mapi shrugged, gesturing wildly with her hands. 

“Oh I don’t know - you cry more than me!” She announced, and the dark haired woman looked over at her as she sat down in the car. 

“Not right now I don’t!” Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh as her wife made an indignant noise next to her, but had absolutely no comeback for that. 

—

“Shh! I can hear them walking in, get it together!” 

Mapi and Ingrid turned to one another as they heard someone whisper scream that, in the direction of what sounded suspiciously like the locker room. 

As it turns out, Mapi’s behavior had begun to worry not just some of their teammates…but rather all of them. They had all stayed late one day to discuss, and decided that the best course of action was to ask the Spaniard if everything was okay. They decided to do it as a team, as a show of support. 

They weren’t sure what was going on with the center back, but she was very clearly going through something, in their eyes. They did not want it to go unnoticed or undiscussed. 

Which was how Mapi and Ingrid walked hand and hand into a changing room intervention, when the green eyed woman was only nine weeks pregnant. 

And really, looking back it was a miracle they had managed to last as far as they did, given how strange the brunette was acting. 

Which led them to right here, right now, standing in front of their entire time, who were all looking at Mapi with varying levels of concern. 

“Uh…hi guys?” Mapi asked more than said her greeting, and it was Alexia who stepped up and forward to greet her friend, clearly the leader of whatever this conversation is going to be. 

“Hi Mapi. We need to talk to you,” the captain explained as she looked around at the group, who all nodded at her. 

“We are worried about you Mapi. Clearly something is going on, and that is okay! We want to be here, support you, however we can. But we can’t help if we don’t know what is going on,” Alexia’s words were soothing, and the Spanish center back could feel the panic inside of her growing larger with the minute. 

She really was not a good liar. She wasn’t the worst liar, but she wasn’t a good one either. 

She considered telling them that it was something private, but that was only going to start more discussion and concern among the team. All of the girls look worried, and she feels bad for concerning them with her behavior, even if it was accidental. 

But oh god, Ingrid is going to be furious if she tells them, Mapi is sure. 

When the brunette chances a glance at her wife, she’s surprised to find that the Norwegian doesn’t seem annoyed but rather amused by the whole thing. More than likely, she, like Mapi, realized that they were fighting a losing battle of trying to keep this a secret. 

When a question forms on the amber eyed woman’s face, Ingrid responds with a small nod, and Mapi knows that she has her permission. 

She lets out a sigh, rubbing her hand over her face before she looks back at her team. They are all looking at her with confusion, and she decides to just tell it to them straight. 

“We are pregnant!” She announces, looking at Ingrid briefly, before she looks back to her team. 

Everyone seems to be stunned into complete and utter silence. Someone lets out a gasp, and Alexia’s jaw looks as though it would be on the floor if it were not still attached to her cheek. 

The blonde captain looks from Mapi’s face to her stomach and back again, unable to gather up any words for a few seconds. 

“You are pregnant?!” She asks in complete disbelief, and the center back blanches at the comment, her own jaw dropping open in shock as she looks down at her own stomach, as though checking to make sure that she wasn’t actually pregnant. 

“What? No! Ingrid is, not me!” She rushed to amend, frantically gesturing to her wife, and the midfielder looked from her best friend to her best friend’s wife, who went from looking unimpressed by her wife’s gesturing to holding up her hands as though to say surprise! to the whole team. 

“You are pregnant?” Alexia repeats, except this time it is directed at Ingrid and not the brunette standing next to her. The Norwegian blushes, before she nods her head in the affirmative. 

“I am. It was a little early still, I am only nine weeks along. We weren’t planning on telling anyone until I was done with the first trimester, but apparently someone can’t keep a lid on any secret ever,” Ingrid explained to the collective, still holding Mapi’s hand. 

When she focuses back on Alexia though, she finds that the Spanish captain appears to be deep in thought. 

“Are you not happy Ale?” Mapi asked suddenly, and there is insecurity laced in her voice that the whole team can tell. That seems to break the blonde out of her trance, and she jumps to shake her head. 

“No, I am thrilled for the both of you!” She explains, and her tone is nothing but genuine. 

“Then what is wrong? You look like you are doing mental math,” the amber eyed woman comments nervously, still a little confused and worried. 

“I’m just–Ingrid is the pregnant one, no?” Alexia receives confirmation of this when they both nod. 

“Then why the hell are you the one that is crying all the time! Isn’t that supposed to be her job?” The captain points out, and Ingrid’s face raises in triumph as Mapi’s face falls in annoyance. 

“That is exactly what I have been saying Ale!” The Norwegian gloated happily, while Mapi crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

“I have recently converted to being an empath! I have to sympathize with her pain!” She cried, and received twenty two equally unimpressed gazes staring right back at her. She deflates like a balloon at the pressure, throwing her hands up. 

“Okay fine, you all win! I’m just weird, I do not know!” She finally admitted, not knowing what else to say. That seemed to make everyone happy, as the whole team stood with excitement, making their way over to hug both the Spaniard and the Norwegian. 

“I can’t wait, we are going to have a Blaugrana baby!” Pina squealed, and at those words Alexia lit up like a child on Christmas, realization dawning on her face as she turned back to the couple. 

“Oh my god!” She properly squealed, taking both Mapi and Ingrid by surprise. The two looked at one another before they looked back at Alexia. 

“What is it capitana?” The dark haired woman asked, shaking her head slightly in confusion. 

“I AM GOING TO BE A TÍA!”

---

Note: Since I know someone might ask - if you would like to read the fic of when Elena meets the Barcelona girls for the first time as a baby, it can be found on ao3 at I Wanna Thank You Baby, You Make It Feel Like Christmas

[callikari]

TWEETS TO RiKi — nishimura riki

7. am i COOKED!!!

you were sitting in the living room, your phone in your hand as you scrolled absentmindedly through social media. the conversation with your friends earlier weighed heavily on your mind. it was the first time you had openly admitted to them that you were falling for riki, and the more you thought about it, the more the words haunted you. how long had you been in denial? how long had you pushed down the feelings because you were too scared of messing things up?

it all felt so complicated, especially now that riki was flirting with leeseo. and the fact that he still thought decelis anon was her? that made it worse. you sighed, tapping away on your phone again, your fingers hovering over the screen. but you didn’t send it. you just stared, trying to calm your nerves.

you were distracted, though, not realizing that your phone was left open on the couch when you stood up to grab something from the kitchen. riki, quietly returning from the hallway after a meeting with the committee, wandered into the room. he stopped when he saw your phone screen—your confession to your friends was staring back at him.

idk if i like riki because it would be weird if i do since we were friends since FRESHMAN YEAR!!! and hes talking to leeseo when im talking to soobin AS FRIENDS ??? its soo wrong to see him in this way and its soo hard to even face him whenever im in the dorm with him

he stared at the message for a moment, blinking in disbelief. his mind was racing. she likes me?

there was no mistaking it now. his heart skipped a beat. and before he could second-guess himself, he looked up to find you coming back from the kitchen, completely unaware that he had just read your text.

“yn,” he called out, his voice soft but loaded with curiosity.

you froze, your heart sinking. “riki…?” you asked, feeling the tension rise in the air.

"is this true?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm as he walked closer to you. he pointed at your phone, his gaze focused on you now. “did you just say you like me?”

your stomach dropped, the words you never intended for him to see now hanging in the air like a weight. “riki, it’s not—”

“don’t lie,” he interrupted, taking a step closer. “just tell me the truth. i won’t be mad. i promise.”

you were torn between wanting to avoid this conversation and needing to let it all out. this is it.

you sighed, your gaze softening. you couldn’t lie anymore. “yes,” you said, barely above a whisper. “i like you, riki. i have for a while. and… i don’t know what to do about it. i didn’t want to admit it to myself, but here we are.”

riki stood there, frozen for a beat, as if trying to process what you just said. his lips parted, but nothing came out. you shifted nervously under his gaze, unsure of what to expect.

the silence stretched between you two, suffocating.

finally, riki spoke, his voice low. “i… i don’t know what to say.” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, still processing. “but you— you like me?”

“yes,” you whispered, feeling the words hit you harder than you expected.

riki looked at you again, and for a moment, it felt like everything was suspended. his brow furrowed slightly, and he let out a quiet breath. “this is… a lot.”

you looked at him, your heart racing. did he not feel the same way?

he hesitated, glancing away for a moment. “i don’t want to mess this up, yn,” he muttered. “but… i’m not sure where to go from here.”

you nodded, trying to make yourself as small as possible in that moment. “it’s fine,” you said quickly. “i understand.” you hated how vulnerable you felt, but this was what you needed to say, even if it didn’t end the way you hoped.

riki, however, shifted closer to you, a softer expression on his face. “i don’t want to make things weird,” he said, voice gentler now. “but i’m not sure how to deal with this either.”

“yeah, i get it,” you said, giving him a small smile. “i guess we’re both confused.”

he chuckled, but it was a little strained. “yeah… but please don’t shut me out, okay?”

your heart fluttered a little at his words, even though there were no clear answers. “i won’t,” you said, trying to sound as steady as you could.

riki gave a small nod, his hand brushing against yours. it wasn’t much, but it was a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

previous | masterlist | next

AUTHORS NOTE — ooo whats next !!!!

TWEETS TO RiKi — @parkjjongswifey @stormy1408 @paradiseoflosers @blodwyn4u @lov4hoon @gyuudai @kittsnewera @rikidaze @notcamii @annybah @jvngw0nlvr @r1naqv @pkjay @nishikio @rairaiblog @stta-princess @haechology @aerijns @miniw0nz @httpzsho @athenaisonlinee @rikiscupid @starbyeol1512 @sunooqvrlsx

[dizzyduck44]

You can’t ctrl alt delete this

I am beyond angry at this point.

If it’s to be believed Red Bull are looking to replace Liam Lawson with Yuki Tsunoda for the Japanese GP in 2 weeks time, with VCARB allegedly looking to acquire Franco Colapinto from Alpine, leaving Liam without a drive in F1.

I’m sorry. Red Bull kindly get fucked!!!!

This is a problem of Red Bull’s own making and dates back about a decade and MULTIPLE wrong decisions.

Firstly in 2023 there should have been no Nyck De Vries, there should have been no fairytale set up for Daniel Ricciardo. De Vries wasn’t ready, period, and Daniel really needed a bit longer to build the hunger to come back. However Liam was more than ready and willing. The fact he wasn’t automatically given the 2023 Alpha Tauri seat still boggles my brain now. The man had been damn unlucky not to be an F2, a DTM and a Super Formula Champion. With the right guidance he held more potential than any other rookie since the 2019 trio of Alex, Lando and George.

It was chance (and bad luck for Danny Ric) that got him in the car in 2023. But his arrival in 2024 in the team was in a lot of ways justified.

I will freely admit that when he was given the Red Bull’s seat I was Team Yuki, but the more I read about the reasoning why, I understood it and accepted it. Seeing him in the F1 introductions video, he was so excited to get going.

And after two races Red Bull want to pull the plug!!!

To say he hasn’t been given a chance is a wild understatement. I bet he doesn’t even fully remember everyone’s name yet! His press pen interviews are heart breaking. If Red Bull aren’t happy at this point they can only blame themselves!

Yes we have long known the team is built around Max. The car is built to suit Max and the quest to get a second driver who can drive the damn thing has dominated the last 8 years of F1.

Trouble is that quest, chased Daniel, (who saw this coming), out the door. It forced them to bin off Alex in favour of Sergio, who gave it a damn good go, even won races in it.

When Checo started drowning last year, Carlos was right there. He was holding out for them and they didn’t bite.

But in a week where McLaren and Lando have highlighted the dangers of a driver wanting a car that suits his driving style alone, ultimately effecting the performance of the car, the irony is deafening.

Because the one driver who has said multiple times he likes his car set up the same as Max is Lando! His natural driving style is similar to Max’s. We’ve never seen it because the McLaren doesn’t support it!

And Lando was on Red Bull’s radar a decade ago! Helmut Marko met with a shy quiet Lando and because he didn’t know insanely complicated facts about his F3 car, he compared him to Max and decided he wouldn’t be worth their time.

By 2018 when they were running out of drivers, again Helmut (beginning to see he may have made an error) offered Lando a seat in F1 at Toro Rosso. McLaren were wise to it though and offered him a seat with them for 2019, which they had already extended by early 2020.

Since then both Lando and Red Bull have admitted they have talked quite a few times. By 2021 I think Christian had worked out what an epic eff up Helmut had caused the team at the first meeting with Lando. More importantly, Max likes him and they get on well, which would be great for marketing. Trouble is the sticking point for Lando has always been, I will not be a number 2 driver to Max. It’s equal opportunity till it’s mathematically impossible or what’s the point of me being here. Something, probably something buried in Max’s contract has meant Red Bull refuses to offer that term.

Which leads us to here. They have effectively retired Checo and Danny Ric, Alex is settled at Williams with Carlos, who they let walk away. Lando is preparing to fight for both championships with McLaren, McLaren and Ferrari have duos with championship winning potential and Liam is who Red Bull chose.

At this point stop looking for the quick fix. You can’t fix a decade of mistakes in two races by simply shuffling your drivers around. This is a problem Red Bull have created themselves. Liam deserves far far better, but the VERY LEAST he deserves is a fair chance.

And while we are at it, let’s start admitting some of those mistakes, because yes you have let the car and situation get to this state, but you’ve happily let Max take the blame for ALL of this. “Well Max can drive it”, “Max intimidates other drivers”. “Max finds a way to handle it”.

The funniest thing here is, if you know your F1 history there is a huge reason McLaren will not change their car to suit Lando. It’s because 15 years ago they did exactly that for Fernando Alonso. And guess what? No one else could drive the damn thing! It’s taken McLaren 7 years to unpick the DNA in that car that made them so damn uncompetitive. Because in a cost cap you can’t just start from scratch all over again.

So Red Bull, binning Liam for Yuki, after sacking Checo, ignoring Carlos, abandoning Daniel, disregarding Alex, ghosted Liam in ‘23 and underestimating Lando will not fix your problem. It will just make you look like bastards with zero plan of how you get yourself out this mess! And good luck explaining that to Ford!

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras

Word Count - 3600

Author's Note - I 100 percent projected my own dysleixia hardcore into this. This was 100 percent written for the dyslexic girlies and learning disability girlies only. Also not me accidentally maybe becoming a Trevor girlie after writing this oh no. This one is by far my favorite segment.

Warnings - light angst but like it ends happy shocking for this page, who am I becoming???

Summary - In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Let me love you masterlist main masterlist

This isn’t something new to you, you’ve struggled your entire life with the fact that you're dyslexic. It’s a lot more complicated than people may recognize. Many people assume that it only comes up when you're trying to read something like a textbook or an article, and that when you’re finished with school it won’t really affect your daily life anymore but that’s far from the truth. In truth, being an adult with dyslexia affects you in little ways daily. From having difficulty knowing your left and right when given verbal directions, your spelling being terrible when texting others, mispronouncing certain words and being easily embarrassed when it gets pointed out, or worse sometimes the word is literally on the tip of your tongue you can even physically see in your brain but your mouth can’t form the proper sounds, how certain fonts you struggle to read vs others, or that black ink on white paper is the bane of your existence.  Although all of these are “little” things, it does impact the way you communicate with others. It does feel extremely frustrating sometimes feeling like people think that you're using your dyslexia as an “excuse” when in reality your brain is wired completely differently because of it. 

Since you first met Trevor and started talking to him, you had that fear you always do in the pit of your stomach, will he pick on you the first time that he truly can’t understand a text or the first time he hears you mispronounce a word despite years of speech therapy where you tried to but still you can’t pronounce correctly. Although, part of you knew that your fear was extremely irrational, part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that was until proven otherwise the jokester in Trevor would make a joke about something you truly couldn’t control. 

That is until today, when it happened it’s one of those rare days when you were driving and Trevor was in the passenger seat. His car was in the shop, and he needed a ride back from the arena to his apartment. Originally he was going to take an Uber but since you both already had plans after the morning skate you insisted on picking him up. 

“It’s easiest if you take this right up here to get back to my place.” He directs you without looking up from his phone,you tell him okay, turn on your left turn signal and get in the left lane. Trevor finally looks up from his phone while you're waiting at the red light for it to turn green to see you're in the wrong lane. 

“Sweetie?” asking in a questioning tone

“Hmmm” 

“This is the left lane. I told you to take a right.” Trevor says in a concerning tone as to how you were five traffic lanes away from where you needed to be. 

“sorry I thought you said ‘left’. I can make a u-turn?” Deciding in the moment you didn’t want to admit that you heard him correctly but processed the direction wrong, you offered as the traffic light finally turned green. 

“It’s alright we can just take the long way. Don’t worry about a u-turn.”  Not seeming to care at all that it will add an extra 10 minutes to the drive due to the mistake. 

As you continued driving you ended up making another wrong turn, Trevor put his left hand on your thigh and subconsiously rubbed small circles into skin to comfort your growing anxiety, he could feel this odd tension that was built up in the car. “Can you point please?” your voice barely over a whisper as you felt extremely embarrassed all of a sudden and started feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

“Yeah Y/N/N I can do that, we could also switch places. I can drive you the rest of the way if you need it if you're feeling anxious all of a sudden.” Trevor was being really sweet, trying to fix the problem at hand thinking it was just some anxious thoughts and not your brain processing audible information incorrectly. 

“No, pointing is good.” Forcing yourself to look straight ahead because you don’t want to accidentally catch his eyes as he looks at you with a worried look. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting way and drops the topic. The rest of the ride felt quick as he pointed and said the direction you needed to go until you reached his apartment. Finding a parking spot in the garage you parked your car, as soon as you felt your foot on the brake, and your right hand pulled the gear in park, you leaned back automatically and sighed grateful you were done driving. Trevor still had his hand on your thigh, he turned his neck so that his head was also resting on the headrest. 

Trevor patiently waited until you opened your eyes, turning to him with a soft smile. “You ready?” you ask him, as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. As you grab your purse from the back, your hand on the door handle. His hand that was on your thigh is gone and immediately pulls you by the wrist back into your seat. As he takes his other hand and gently places it on your cheek forcing you to look at him. 

“Can we talk about it?” His voice was steady, calm, confident but soft, almost as if he was scared of your reaction. 

Smiling a little wider now, in a split second you try to decide what you want to do. Do you want to tell a boy who you’ve only been casually talking to and hanging out with a handful of times - one of them being this current moment - about being dyslexic. Although it’s not that big of a deal in retrospect, it’s something that you can never take back once you said the words. Even though it’s something so simple and common no one ever looks at you the same again. Were you ready to tell Trevor, and see his face change permanently or did you want to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer. 

“I’m fine, it’s just when I drive somewhere new I like listening to the GPS and not a person telling me directions, it helps me focus better is all.” sheepishly you admit. 

Ignorant Bliss. That’s the choice you made. 

“Okay well next time, can you tell me that so I don’t have to watch you stress yourself out please?” His hand that was on your wrist, going down to your hand playing with your hand. Taking your hand that he was playing with, fully grasping his you squeeze his hand as a silent yes, and nod your head. He leans over the middle console and quickly peaks your lips as if it was a last minute impulse and he meant the cheek. “Thank you, let's go inside.” 

—-------------------------------

Living in ignorant bliss was great for a few weeks, until you started to actually like Trevor. Talking to a guy for a few months and it not going anywhere vs meeting someone and potentially seeing at least an exclusive relationship with them were two very different things. Knowing that you saw a relationship with him in the future meant it was only a matter of time before he found out that your dyslexic which again isn’t that big of a deal, but the fact that you also lied to him a few weeks ago. Not telling him is one thing, but lying when he asked why you were struggling to drive that day is a completely different act. 

Trying to put off the inevitable you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind. Somehow convincing yourself that if you didn’t think about it, then the problem would disappear he would never find out. I mean when you didn’t know how to spell a word while texting, you just spoke it into your phone. As far as grammar no one really had perfect grammar when texting including Trevor to be perfectly honest he probably didn’t even notice half the time. Plenty of people kept all their devices in dark mode for plenty of reasons, he had no reason to ask, although you did it because it helped your eyes stay focused on the words in front of you, not for the aesthetic. 

Even so, with all of these excuses as to why he wouldn’t notice you failed to remember that certain words you truly can’t pronounce the correct way no matter how hard you try. It all came crashing down tonight when you were at Trevor’s apartment cooking dinner for the both of you. Dinner was almost done at this point, when Trevor came behind you just now re-entering the kitchen after taking an expected call from his little sister. Trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on top of your shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” you ask your curiosity getting the best of you, even though you know it’s none of your business. 

“Yeah she’s fine.” Pressing a kiss into where your jawline and neck meet. “smells good.” He compliments your cooking as he teases you one more time with a small nip with his teeth where he just kissed you, before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. 

Answering shyly, you let out a “thank you.”

“Anything I can help with?” asking genuinely although you're not sure if it’s to be kind or if it’s because he’s hungry but either way you’ll take it. As he slowly unwraps himself from you, getting ready to help you in any way you need. 

Without looking up from the chicken that you're grilling on the stove, trying to concentrate on the task at hand you answer him. “Yeah actually can you grab out the mellk from the fridge for the mashed potatoes.” Not even thinking twice about what you just said until you heard a chuckle coming from across the kitchen. 

“What babe?” standing in front of a now open fridge, he could have sworn you tried to say milk but botched the word so badly, it couldn’t have possibly been.

“the mellk” finally noticing what you asked for, knowing this is one of the words people can’t help but point out how you butcher it. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, truly confused now that he heard it twice. 

“M - il - k “ you repeat slowing down your mouth trying to force yourself to pronounce it properly but also not speak too slowly. Hoping that it's noticeable as you force your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the “il” sound.  

A small chuckle leaves Trevor’s lips but it wasn’t a malicious way, it was as if he chuckled because he found it adorable. “Here's the milk baby.” walking back over to you and placing it on the empty counter space next to the bowl of steaming hot cooked potatoes. Taking the chicken off the hot burner you moved to the island to where the potatoes were. 

“Sorry” you mumble as he stands beside you, his hip resting on the side of the island. 

“For what?” His eyebrows frowned, his eyes focused the side of your face the only thing he could see. Focusing on the task at hand, you used the potato masher and mashed the potatoes. Opening the milk and adding a little along with some butter that you set out earlier. 

Feeling the rise of some anxiety in your stomach, hoping that you could procrastinate just a little longer on admitting that you didn’t tell him the whole truth. Deciding if now was the time or if you were gonna dig yourself in a bigger hole by wrapping yourself in a thicker web of tiny white lies. 

Finally turning your head to the side to face him and taking a deep breath. 

For good measure making one more deep breath before you barely utter the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “I lied.” 

Trevor’s face immediately changed from confusion and concern. In an instant it became shocking and almost hurt, that the girl he thought was actually going somewhere a month in, is admitting to lying to him. Not when he told her in the beginning that lying wasn’t something he tolerated after his ex lied to him for months and manipulated him. Not when he just told his little sister not even ten minutes ago on the phone that tonight he was gonna ask you to be his official girlfriend. “What are you talking about?” his voice cracking before he could even get the word out, quickly clearing his throat to cover up his own insecurities about the possible tension that could slowly be felt brewing in his kitchen. 

“Remember a few weeks, when I was driving you to your apartment from the stad-” 

“What the FUCK does that have to do with lying to me? When did you lie to me Y/N” Not only has Trevor never once raised his voice at you in a not joking way, but he’s never cursed at you, and his tone made you close your eyes and flinch at the impact. Immediately, seeing you flinch he sighed his hand going to lightly crease her arm closest to him. “When did you lie?” asking at a much softer tone than moments before. 

“I’m trying to explain.” Trevor could have sworn he felt his chest hurt when he heard you struggling to speak, as if you were trying to get yourself not to cry. “Please let me explain.” 

“Okay” he softly let out, as he squeezed your arm not sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself as he felt the possibility of you slipping through his fingers. 

“A few weeks ago when I drove you home.” finally turning her body fully turning to face him. “I lied, When you asked me what happened. I told you I need the GPS because I get overwhelmed.” Pausing to make sure that Trevor was following along, he nodded along, “I lied, sort of,” your voice picking up in speed with each word you uttered out  “I mean I do get overwhelmed while driving but it’s not because of that it’s not that I” 

“Baby please take a breath you're scaring me” His other arm is going to cup your cheek, even though he was mad before as he heard you fixated on driving him home a few weeks ago. He knew it couldn’t have possibly been any of the terrible ideas that popped into his head, at least Trevor hoped not.

 “I sometimes get my left and right confused.” Looking up trying to gauge his reaction, watching as one of his eyebrows go down, as if to say ‘that’s all.’ 

“Okay. So that was the lie? Everyone gets confused sometimes and makes mistakes baby it’s okay” His famous smile slowly takes over his face. 

“That’s the thing is it isn’t sometimes, it’s kind of a lot when I’m driving when someone is giving me directions without pointing, and there are other things too. I mean they're small but they still affect me almost daily and I just.” 

Deciding to take a breath because if you don’t you will be more likely to trip up your words or stutter. “I’m dyslexic and it’s not really how they describe the movies.” 

His smile dropped a little and you swear it felt as if your heart felt as if it had just dropped a hundred flights down the Empire State building. “Dyslexic. Like you mix up letters when reading?”

“Yeah but it’s more than that.”

“Okay. But why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you say it’s because you get overwhelmed.” 

“Because I do get overwhelmed when I make dumb mistakes like that. Plus, everytime I tell someone they never look at me the same. A lot of times they are shocked, and they also sometimes judge me because how does it not affect me the way the media portrays it? Why do I mispronounce words, why can’t I tell my left and right when someone gives me a direction, why I can’t read maps to save my fucking life but yet if I don’t have my GPS running I’m bound to a wrong turn, why does sometimes my mind decide I either can’t come up with a word at all or I can physically see it but I can’t say it and I can’t spell it because I’m such a bad speller.” 

“Shhh” not trying to cut you off but also trying to get you to breathe. “So you didn’t tell me cause you were scared I would look at you differently? Or judge you when something you can’t control comes out at random times of the day? That’s why you told me to point instead of just saying it because you didn’t wanna tell me in fear?” Not sure his tone is showing remorse for you thinking that at all or hurting that you ever would think of him in that way. 

“Yeah.” you embarrassingly admit.

Trevor spent the rest of the night listening to you and how your brain was different due to your own personal experience with being a dyslexic. The next morning you found him reading an article about the effects of different lighting and how dark mode was the best for dyslexics and certain fonts were better than others. It made you chuckle as you told him you knew and that’s why your phone was permanently in dark mode.  That day, he changed all the settings on his tv’s in his entire apartment for dark mode, even all of his own personal devices. Finding it adorable that he went on a tangent when he found out certain apps don’t support dark mode and how he said it was discriminating. Finding it harder and harder for yourself to hide your soft smile as you watched him continue his rant, your heart swelling at how passionate he sounded. 

“I really like you, you know.” you admitted when he finally stopped complaining about how Mirosoft finally started supporting dark mode it was still ‘white paper’ on black ink so they really missed the whole point. 

“Oh yeah.” as he grabs you, pulling you towards him on the couch, tangling your legs with his. 

“Yup” popping the p for emphasis.

“I really like you too. Actually I was gonna ask you.. Wanna make this official and let me call you mine.” The blush was obvious on your face, immediately turning a light red shade, nodding your head he pulled you into a soft kiss. 

—---------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were out to dinner with a few close friends and Trevor. Currently trying to tell a story about one of your new coworkers and how you didn’t like him but mid sentence you froze. Trevor had yet to see you freeze because the word you planned to say completely escaped you. Of course this wasn’t new to your friends as they saw the familiar signs, the way in which you paused, your lips pursed in a questioning way, your hand coming up and shaking knowing it was on the tip of your tongue and you just couldn’t think of it or couldn’t pronounce it. 

What your friends weren’t used to was seeing Trevor respond to it. His response to you struggling made all of them share a glance in approval of his small action. He took your shaking hand and slipped it into his own. Immediately your small flustered expression on your face turns to him. Your friends couldn’t hear what you were saying between yourselves if you were even talking at all, but they could see the care in Trevors eyes and how your frustration seemed to melt away.

“Hi” he whispers only for you to hear after a couple seconds pass. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Hi” 

“What are you trying to say?” repeating the same sentence that he asked you weeks ago when you asked him to get the milk out the fridge. 

“I can’t think of it.” a sigh leaving your lips. 

“Describe it.” His forehead resting on yours as you look into his eyes. 

“You know, like a red flag.” 

“Like in dating? So a slang term?” 

“I think.” Pausing for a few seconds for your brian to catch up. “But I know it’s not called a red flag, but it’s like it, I think, like when someone does something and immediately you're like ew.” 

“An ick?” he softly suggests. Immediately your mouth forms into an o-shape in shock, making his mouth twitch into the slightest smile. Kissing his check quickly and whispering a quick ‘thanks’ and turning back to your friends. 

“Okay so like this new dude thinks he can come in and just boss all me and my other co-workers around. That’s not even the worst part like not only is he lowkey sexist, he literally only wears highwaters, immediate ick…” Trevor sat there half listening to your story with a huge smile on his face, hand on your thigh drawing patterns subconsciously as he sipped on his drink. He loves listening to you talk, how you get lost in telling stories and he’s happy he was able to help you instead of you pushing it to the side like you did all those months ago. 

That’s how it is from that night on, anytime you text him and he can’t understand it, or you can’t think of a word, or butcher the pronunciation; he will simply turn to you and ask “What are you trying to say?” 

[raptinsound]

Just professing my love for Stolitz <3

What better time than Valentine’s Day to admit outwardly how absolutely SMITTEN I am with Stolitz!! AACK.

A ramble under the cut, just because.

I’ve been watching Helluva Boss off and on from the sidelines since the release of the pilot back in 2019… Blitz and Stolas always captured my attention, but I was never captivated enough to watch the show devotedly. That is…until the second half of season 2 HIT ME LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN OF EMOTION. The advancing storyline between Blitz and Stolas became too irresistible and has now completely drawn me in. I’ve been in a spiral of hyper-fixation since November, and I officially can’t get enough of them! I haven’t fallen this hard for a ship since Killugon (from HxH), which is saying A LOT considering I’ve been loving those two endlessly since 2014 without much reprieve. Needless to say, I don’t wear my shipping heart on my sleeve. It really takes a special pairing to make me SWOON this much. And HERE WE ARE with Stolitz. These two wonderfully complicated men!! I just can’t even. I’ve been eating up all the wonderful fan content and even coming out of video editing-retirement to work on my own Stolitz video that I hope to finish by the end of the month. I just couldn’t stay idle on the sidelines a moment longer. These demons have taken over my life in the best way!!

Here's a random list of things I’m hoping to see in the upcoming shorts/seasons:

-A love confession (obvs) (From Blitz FIRST!) -Seeing Blitz, Stolas, Loona, and Via as a happy family (hopefully the end game scenario...) -Via finally learning about/understanding the marital abuse her father suffered over the years and realizing that Stolas loving Blitz has never/will never reduce his love for her as her father. Also, Via learning that Blitz truly cares about Stolas and wants the best for her too.

-Blitz going to GREAT LENGTHS to get on Via’s good side and get her to finally talk with her father. -Stolas finding out about all of Blitz’s trauma and providing comfort/reassurance (making Blitz realize that he deserves love). -Stolas realizing that he DID belittle Blitz on multiple occasions in the past and apologizing for it.

-Stolas coming to terms with the fact that he was living in a fantasy before his banishment, but after experiencing the real world and seeing Blitz for who he truly is, finds himself falling even harder for the unromanticized, tangible version of him.

-Blitz having a run in with his dad and finally standing up to him. Maybe have Stolas tell him off? -More flashbacks of Blitz’s mom. -Maybe learn about Stolas’s mom? Who was she? Where did she go?

-More scenes with Barbie! -Blitz getting Stolas some plants, or Stolas just having plants around Blitz’s apartment. -More Stolas laughing at Blitz’s jokes.

-Blitz and Stolas doing more mundanely cute, domestic shit as “roommates,” not realizing how they’ve somehow bypassed several steps in their relationship and moved right along to long term, live-in boyfriends.

Some of these might be unrealistic, but a girl can dream, right?

[absgay]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ “I don’t see no point in blaming you, If I were you I’d do me too.” ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

word counts: 1,2K.

“Something about me, got you hooked on my body. Take you over and under and twisted up like origami.”

warnings: 18+ minors dni, grammar, f*buddy!abby, college!abby, some angst, jealousy, toxic? idk, smut.

next part here: hart to get.

Abby sighed peacefully as she watched you search for your clothes with satisfaction. It shouldn’t have happened, not again. But it’s always been complicated, you couldn’t resist her. “It won’t happen, ever again…” you said. “We were supposed to talk.”

Abby chuckled and sat down against the headboard, all sweaty and breathless. “You don’t have to leave right away.” She looked outrageously good, standing by the bed and putting on some boxers. “We’ve already had this conversation two weeks ago.”

“It’s different this time.” you responded, eyes bright and cheeks still flushed. “I’m trying to move— Listen, I’m seeing someone who’s really nice to me and I won’t let anyone ruin it.” Abby scoffed, unconvinced. “It’s over.”

“Sure…” Abby mumbled, approaching you. “You should’ve thought about that thirty minutes ago.” you sighed. “Come on— Don’t you think it’s cute how we always end up having sex, it’s almost an addiction.”

And there it was: Abby Anderson’s damn cocky smirk. You hated it as much as you secretly loved it. The blond seemed too amused, increasing your annoyance as you looked away, searching for something else to focus on rather than the woman’s abs.

“It’s over, Abby.” you repeated quietly. “I mean it.” You sounded unsure, tormented by your own words as you looked back at her beautiful face. “We can’t see each other anymore, we shouldn’t—” Abby’s eyes narrowed, hands reaching to grab yours. “Please— Don’t.”

Abby frowned as you pulled away. “Who is it?” You could feel the woman’s sudden irritation and frustration growing towards you as she waited, arms crossed. “Tell me!”

“It’s none of your business.” Abby nodded, threateningly. “We’re not together, you’ve made it clear, many times. I don’t owe you shit.” you trembled as she stared at you silently.

She chuckled. “You’re gonna have to explain to your little girlfriend how you ended up with a brand new hickey.” you glanced at the sensitive bruise in the mirror and rolled your eyes. “Don’t even start, because I don’t recall you complaining about it earlier today. In fact, you were begging me to fuck you—”

“Seriously? You’re insufferable!” you groaned embarrassedly and headed straight to the exit. You had one weakness: her. Obviously, Abby knew about it and never missed an opportunity to remind it to you.

She reacted immediately, right hand leaning on the wooden door as you tried to open it, slamming it shut. She moved it down to your wrist, spinning you around to look at you with concern.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked quietly. “Oh— Don't you remember what happened to you, the last time you tried to run away from me? At this party, in the bathroom?” Abby radiated so much confidence, insolence and charm. She didn’t even know how much it affected you, thank god. “Shit— You came so hard on my fingers, you couldn’t even walk properly afterwards…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you responded, flustered and annoyed, glancing at the woman’s mouth. Of course you remembered, the suffocating heat and the obscenities still fresh in your mind. “Jesus— Fuck you.” you murmured, craving the blond’s touch again. She looked too good, too sinful to be true.

Abby smiled. “Beg me.” She wanted to give in as much as you. It was consuming, almost unbearable. You stared at each other with need, too stubborn to let the other one win. “Do you really think anyone else could fuck you this good?” You felt weak and vulnerable as you stumbled back into the door like an idiot. “Tell me.” Abby leaned forward, trapping you against it. “Come on— Answer me.” she murmured near your ear.

“I—” you swallowed hard, throat dry. “We hooked up.” you admitted timidly. The blond frowned and snorted, confused. “I hooked up with her…”

“You did not—” Abby huffed, teeth clenched. The blond’s eyes hardened and narrowed into slits as she stared at you with disappointment. How could anyone else see such a vulnerable side of you? You belonged to her. “You fucked someone else!” she shouted, stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Come on— Are we really gonna pretend you haven’t been messing around with anyone else behind my back ever since we started to hook up?” you asked. “When we first met, you had a different woman in your bed every single—”

“Tell me.” Abby demanded. “How was it? Did you enjoy it?” The bitterness and the undeniable tension turned you on. Usually, you were the jealous and possessive one. You’ve had to sit and watch Abby flirt with an enormous amount of women for the past months, it’s the blond’s turn now. “Let me guess, it didn’t feel as good as it does with me? So— That’s why you decided to come here tonight, because no one understands your body better than I do.”

You chuckled at the woman’s assumptions, in denial. It wasn’t bad but not great either, the real problem was that you had thought about Abby the entire time. She was right, it was an addiction. She lived in your mind rent free, constantly obstructing your thoughts and feelings on a daily basis. It pissed you off.

“It drives you nuts, doesn’t it?” Abby huffed and smirked, she enjoyed your audacity way too much. “I mean— Think about it, I had sex with someone else, someone else touched me.” Abby remained silent, delighted as she pictured herself spanking the attitude out of you. “Someone else made me scream, made me theirs—”

Abby hummed as you moaned pathetically, the blond’s hand wrapped tightly around your throat. She loved how miserable you looked in this exact moment, only for her. “Watch your mouth…” Abby warned as she pulled it closer to hers. “Or I’ll shut it down myself.”

“Like she did.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, maybe you went too far, on purpose. As soon as the words left your mouth, something switched inside Abby. The conversation turned into a heated argument which led to an animalistic make out session: skin flushed and bruised, curses and obscene ideas shared as she pressed you against the sheets once again. Abby held the headboard with one hand and slammed into you hard and fast, the blond’s messy braid falling to the side.

“Shit— Abby.” you moaned between choked breaths, Abby’s hand moving to your thigh and holding it tight as you wrapped your legs around the woman’s waist.

“Look at you— So beautiful and all spread out for me.” she said and slowed down. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” And then, she almost lost control as you whined with pleading eyes, wanting more. “Holy shit— You’re gonna be a good girl and let me ruin this pussy all night, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” you moaned in pure bliss. “Please— Abby.”

Jesus Christ, Abby was gone. She wanted to eat you alive, she had never felt so attracted to someone before: you looked like an angel with the nastiest mind ever and she loved it so much. You screamed and wrapped your arms around her broad shoulders as she slammed deeper and deeper into you. You pulled the woman’s warm chest against yours, your swollen lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss.

Shit, it definitely wasn’t over between you two.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇