#and people always forget that first part!

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 9 of 12

Synopsis: lies, junk, and ebay side hustles

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—

The Twinkie’s engine hummed as they drove, the soft rumble steady in the quiet night. Y/N leaned against the window, watching as streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her face, leaving brief glints on her tired eyes. John B’s hands gripped the wheel, knuckles pale in the dim light as he guided them down familiar roads. 

This had been one of the longest - but one of the best nights of Y/N’s life. After the initial shock of finding out each other’s secret wore off, John B volunteered to drive Y/N home, much to Rafe’s dismay. 

They had both grown up on these roads, weaving through the same streets, crashing at each other’s houses, and finding trouble together. Now, things felt… different. As if, somehow, the ground they had always trusted beneath them was shifting. Their silence was comfortable but weighted, as if both of them were holding onto thoughts too heavy to put into words.

After a while, John B finally broke the silence, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “So… I guess we’re practically in-laws now.”

She let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Guess so. Funny, isn’t it?”

John B smirked but grew thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I mean, I get how I ended up with Sarah, but… you and Rafe? When did that even happen?”

She felt a slight warmth creep up her face. “Uh… tonight, actually.” She paused, swallowing. “We kissed for the first time. I think the word for it is ‘unexpected.’”

He shot her a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding me. Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” She gave a half-shrug, avoiding his gaze. “It's kind of… I don’t know, it just happened.”

John B let out a slow breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You kissed Rafe Cameron tonight… wow.” He let that sink in, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wheel. “Guess we’re both out here crossing some major lines.”

Y/N gave a slight nod, feeling the truth of that for herself, too. Sarah Cameron and Rafe Cameron—these were people they’d known their entire lives, kids who had grown up with a silver spoon and never seemed to notice the Pogues except to look down on them. And yet, here they were, tangled in the lives of the Kooks they’d once considered untouchable.

“How did that even happen?” she asked quietly, her gaze still on the passing trees.

John B rubbed a hand over his jaw, considering. “It’s… complicated. It was one of those things that just kinda… snuck up on me. I was working on Ward’s boat one day. He needed help with something in the engine room, and when I came up, Sarah was there. She was sitting by the dock, crying. She’d just broken up with Topper.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, though she wasn’t entirely surprised. “Yeah, he’s… something, isn’t he?”

John B chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Anyway, she looked… different. Vulnerable, I guess. Not like her usual ‘Kook princess’ self. We just started talking, and I don’t know… the lines got blurry. I wanted to hate her, but it’s hard to hate someone when you’re actually seeing them. You know what I mean?”

She did. She understood that completely.

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, tracing her finger along the edge of the window. “Rafe… I never thought I’d be able to trust someone like him. I mean, it’s Rafe Cameron. But tonight, something just… clicked. And I realized I wanted to be around him. It’s strange, but being with him, even just for a night… it made me forget about a lot of things.”

“Like JJ?” John B’s voice was quiet, understanding. Y/N felt her heart constrict at the name, the weight of years of friendship and unspoken feelings pressing down on her all at once.

“Yeah,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve been in love with him for so long. And it’s like... it’s been this constant thing in the back of my mind, like this background noise that I got used to. But tonight, with Rafe… it was like the noise stopped. For once, I wasn’t thinking about JJ. I was just... there, in the moment.”

John B let out a slow breath, nodding. “It’s kind of terrifying, isn’t it? Letting someone in like that. I know how much you cared about JJ. Honestly… I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you guys. I’ve known you my whole life. You and JJ are the only people who… get me. And now I’m dating Sarah, and you’re with Rafe… it’s almost like we’re betraying something.”

Y/N looked over at him, their eyes meeting for a long moment. “Yeah, it feels like that. It’s not just about us—it’s about all of us. Our whole group, the way we’ve always been there for each other. I keep thinking about what JJ would say if he knew.”

John B’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’d be pissed, that’s for sure. Hurt, too. But… maybe he’d understand eventually.”

“I don’t know, John B. He’s stubborn. And this would feel like a double blow. We’re his oldest friends, and… he’d feel like we’ve crossed a line. Especially me, with Rafe of all people.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I can’t imagine losing JJ because of this.”

The silence fell again, heavy with memories and old loyalties. Finally, John B glanced over at her, his voice a little softer, a little more vulnerable. “Then let’s keep it between us. We don’t have to tell anyone. I mean… if things get serious or whatever, we’ll figure it out then. But for now… let’s just keep this between us. I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.”

Y/N smiled, the weight lifting just slightly. “Deal.”

“Good,” he replied, a flicker of relief in his eyes. He offered her a small grin. “Guess we’ll be each other’s partners in crime, sneaking around with the Kooks. Never thought we’d end up here.”

She laughed softly, nodding. “Life has a weird way of throwing curveballs.”

As the Twinkie carried them back down the familiar roads, Y/N felt a sense of calm settle over her. They had their pact now, an unspoken agreement to protect each other and their secrets. 

—

The salty breeze tugged at Y/N’s hair as she made her way down the familiar path to The Chateau. It had been a week since she last saw the Pogues, and her absence hadn’t been unnoticed. She’d spent the days since the chaos at Tannyhill trying to process everything. The kiss with Rafe felt like a whirlwind, and now she had to face her friends, especially JJ, who she knew would be the hardest. Her stomach was in knots as she approached the hangout, trying to steady her nerves.

John B had said he’d smooth things over, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. Not when it came to JJ.

When she entered, the usual hum of conversation was absent. The Pogues were gathered around the table, but it felt… off. Pope and Kie were sitting together, but their smiles seemed forced as they looked up at her. The only one who wasn’t pretending was JJ, standing by the window, his back to the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even look her way as she stepped inside.

Y/N hesitated in the doorway, her gaze flicking between Kie, Pope, and John B, who was leaning casually against the counter. “Hey,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Kie’s face lit up, though there was an obvious undercurrent of confusion. “Look who’s back! You good? Where’ve you been?”

Y/N winced at the warmth in Kie’s voice—so different from JJ’s cold silence. “Yeah, just needed some space,” she replied, not wanting to dive into details.

Pope nodded but didn’t press further. “Everyone’s been asking about you,” he said. “Glad to see you finally made it out.”

John B gave a small grin, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Yeah, we were starting to think you’d forgotten how to find us.”

Y/N gave him a small, forced laugh, but her eyes were drawn back to JJ, who still hadn’t turned around. The tension was palpable, and it felt like the air itself was thickening with each passing second.

She tried to take a step forward, but JJ’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “So, nice of you to join us,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “Thought maybe you’d decided we weren’t worth your time anymore.”

Y/N flinched. She hadn’t expected the bite in his words, not after everything they’d been through. She knew he was hurt, but hearing it from him like this felt like a slap.

JJ finally turned to face her, his face hard. “You know, I was worried sick after that voicemail,” he continued, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t answer my texts, didn’t pick up the phone. What the hell, Y/N? You left me hanging.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected this level of anger, but hearing him say that struck a chord. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “You could’ve picked up the phone the first time I called,” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had actually been there when I needed you.”

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and raw. JJ’s eyes widened, surprised by her retort, but there was no denying the hurt that flashed across his face. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?” he said, voice low and simmering. “You think it’s that simple?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “No, I don’t think it’s simple,” she snapped back, her frustration mounting. “But I tried reaching out, JJ. You’ve been so caught up with everything else, and I—” She broke off, running a hand through her hair. “I needed space. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

JJ shook his head, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “You can’t just disappear like that without telling anyone what’s going on. I thought something happened to you. I was out of my mind, Y/N.”

She softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone, but her anger still simmered. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I just needed time to figure things out.”

JJ exhaled sharply, clearly still hurt but now holding back, as if deciding whether to continue his outburst. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. Just… next time, don’t leave me in the dark. I don’t do well with that.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. That’s the last thing I want.”

There was a long, heavy silence before JJ, with a frustrated sigh, finally gave a small, resigned shrug. “Alright, fine. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

John B, sensing the moment was still tense, stepped in with a lighthearted tone, trying to ease the mood. “Alright, enough of the drama. We’ve got a Pogue reunion here, right?” He glanced at Y/N with a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s just have a good night, yeah?”

Y/N gave him a tight smile, but her gaze lingered on JJ for a moment longer. There was still a distance between them, an unspoken tension that neither of them could ignore. But at least, for now, they were talking again. She only hoped the cracks in their friendship wouldn’t be too hard to fix.

—

A few days had passed since the tense moment with JJ, and things seemed to go back to normal, or at least, as normal as things could get in the Outer Banks. Y/N still spent most of her free time with Rafe, sneaking in moments together whenever they could. It felt like a secret they were both carefully tending, and despite the weight of keeping it under wraps, there was an unspoken comfort in it. She had no intention of telling the group just yet, but she wasn’t pretending things were the same with JJ either. There was distance now, but it was the kind of space that made it easier to breathe. And while Y/N still felt a little uncertain about what it meant for her friendship with the Pogues, she couldn’t help but feel lighter every time she was around them.

People noticed when she disappeared. Pope raised an eyebrow at her a couple of times, Kiara playfully asked if she was meeting some "mysterious boy," and JJ, though distant, was clearly still keeping an eye on her. But no one questioned it further. No one needed to know.

That afternoon, Y/N found herself back at the Chateau, where the gang had regrouped after a few days of avoiding serious conversations. The group was loud, as usual—Kiara pulling out an old map, Pope half-heartedly objecting to some of their more ridiculous ideas, and JJ getting a little too enthusiastic about a new "adventure" they could take. This time, it was JJ’s turn to suggest something chaotic.

“I’ve got it,” JJ said dramatically, eyes lighting up. “We go to the junkyard.”

Y/N shot him a raised eyebrow. “The junkyard? Really?”

“It’s perfect,” JJ continued, ignoring the questioning looks. “We could find treasure, make some plans for the summer, do something that actually makes us feel alive for once. Plus, there’s always weird stuff there—old cars, random bits of metal, who knows what we might find?”

Kiara perked up at the mention of treasure. “Could be a gold mine,” she added with a grin. “Or at least we can see if there’s any cool, rusty junk we can turn into art.”

Pope, who had been staring into the distance, suddenly broke into a mock frown. “The junkyard? Really? You guys are seriously trying to drag me into a place filled with piles of trash?”

JJ grinned, always ready to egg Pope on. “Come on, Pope. You can pretend to be the sophisticated one all you want, but deep down you know you want to get your hands dirty with the rest of us.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back on the couch. It was a sound she hadn’t realized she’d missed—her group, teasing and laughing with no tension. It felt like old times, before everything got complicated. Before she started feeling like she was on the outside of the group, watching as JJ and Kiara danced around each other and trying to figure out what her feelings for Rafe meant.

“I’m in,” Y/N said, sitting up and giving them a small grin. “Let’s go find some treasure.”

Pope, still grumbling, threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not getting stuck in any piles of scrap metal. I’m too smart for that.”

“Just remember that when I find something amazing, you’ll be the first to carry it for me,” JJ teased, already standing up and grabbing his jacket.

At that moment, John B, who had been lounging on the couch with a cup in hand, suddenly perked up. “Did someone say junkyard?” he asked, eyes wide with mock excitement. “That sounds like the kind of adventure I can get behind.”

Y/N shot him a grin. “You planning on driving us there, Captain?”

“Obviously.” John B tossed the cup aside, jumping to his feet. “The van’s ready. And if I’m driving, we’re making this a proper expedition. No half-assed treasure hunts on my watch.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled at the enthusiasm. “Fine, fine. Let’s go then.”

The gang piled into the old, beat-up twinkie, heading off toward the junkyard. As they approached the site, the familiar scent of rust and oil filled the air. The place looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, with broken-down cars, shattered glass, and twisted metal strewn across the dirt lot. The kind of place where nothing was useful, but everything had the potential for some kind of adventure.

“Alright,” JJ said, standing dramatically in front of the group, “let’s make this a scavenger hunt. First person to find the weirdest thing gets to claim the prize.”

“Prize?” Kiara asked, skeptically. “What, are we going to sell the trash we find?”

“Exactly,” JJ grinned. “Who says junk can’t be worth something?”

Pope rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a smirk. “This is ridiculous. But I’m game.”

Y/N watched John B, who was already surveying the junkyard with a mischievous grin. He had that familiar glint in his eyes—the same spark he always got when he was looking for trouble, and he wasn’t about to let JJ have all the fun. “Fine,” John B said, “but I’m getting the prize first.”

“You wish,” JJ shot back, already moving toward a stack of old tires. “I’m gonna find something epic.”

As they began to spread out, Y/N couldn’t help but feel lighter. She wasn’t thinking about JJ’s stupid pity kiss, or the constant tension that hung between them. She wasn’t worried about Rafe’s feelings either—he was the secret she didn’t have to explain, and she was content with that. For once, she was just part of the group again, her old self. The Pogue she used to be.

JJ sprinted toward an old car, shouting out, “I call dibs on this beauty!” and began rifling through the trunk, already making an absurd amount of noise. Kiara, Pope, and Y/N followed suit, though their finds were much more practical. Y/N pulled out a few rusted tools, giggling when Pope made a face at the mess she was digging through.

“You sure this is the best we’ve got?” Pope asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm but a hint of amusement.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said with a playful grin. “What’s your definition of treasure, Pope? Something shiny?”

“Exactly,” he said, half-smiling. “I’m all for finding treasure, but not garbage.”

“We’ll see about that,” Kiara called out from behind a pile of tires, already holding up a set of old neon lights she thought could be used for their next bonfire. “This could make a perfect addition to our party setup!”

Y/N watched as Kiara took charge of their little scavenger hunt, leading them through the junkyard with a sense of excitement that made the whole thing feel a little more like a real adventure. Pope was actually getting into it now, his competitive spirit taking over as he tried to beat JJ to whatever “treasure” he could find. JJ, of course, was already in his own world, imagining the junkyard as some sort of personal playground, where every broken thing was just a stepping stone to a bigger, better idea.

John B wandered off toward the far side of the yard, his eyes scanning the piles of junk for anything that might catch his eye. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how natural it felt, watching the group fall into their old rhythm.

As they explored, laughing and tossing things aside, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just the junkyard that felt like home—it was this. It was being with these people. No matter how chaotic things got, no matter how much she didn’t know what she was doing with her own life, these were the people who always had her back

The sun blazes overhead as Y/N steps into the junkyard, eyes wide with excitement.

“This place is awesome!” Y/N exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes. “It’s like a treasure hunt, but better because it’s all free!”

Kiara chuckles beside her. “I mean, it’s not the best place for treasures, but yeah, you could find something cool.” She swats a crow feather out of her face. 

John B, already leading the way, turns back with a grin. “Follow me, I know where the good stuff is.”

Y/N follows, practically bouncing with curiosity. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in there.”

Pope, trailing behind, lets out a dramatic sigh. “Good stuff? In a junkyard? This is like a museum... for garbage.”

Y/N laughs, waving at a pile of old scrap metal. “Hey, you’d be surprised. There’s probably something worth a lot here, Pope. You never know!”

They reach the shed, and John B immediately tries to open the door. He pulls, pushes, and gives it a shoulder check, but it’s locked.

“Uh, guys,” John B mutters, frowning. “It’s locked.”

“Duh,” Pope replies, unimpressed. “It’s a shed. Who’s surprised?”

John B shrugs. “Well, this shed’s too interesting to leave alone. JJ, grab the crowbar. We’re getting in.”

JJ jumps into action, grinning. “This is gonna be fun.”

Pope looks around nervously. “This is a terrible idea. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Relax,” John B says, already walking back to make room for JJ. “It's fine. We’ll just—”

JJ pulls out the crowbar and gives it a couple of solid swings against the shed’s door. The sound of metal against metal echoes across the junkyard. On the third swing, the door creaks open with a groan, revealing the dark interior.

“Here we go!” JJ says, his grin widening. He steps into the shed like he just found buried treasure.

Y/N steps forward, eyes lighting up. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in here.”

But as the group floods into the dimly lit shed, their excitement quickly fades. The place is stacked with nothing but junk—old furniture, broken tools, and boxes of random stuff, nothing of any real value. The walls are lined with old tires, discarded appliances, and garbage bags.

“What the hell?” Y/N says, her voice deflating. “This is... this is just junk.”

“I told you,” Pope mutters under his breath, crossing his arms. “Who in their right mind would call this ‘good stuff’?”

John B shrugs, undeterred. “Hey, sometimes the best finds are hidden under a pile of garbage.”

JJ pulls a dusty old television out of a box and wipes it off. “Look, I found this! I mean, it’s not working, but who wouldn’t want a retro TV in their house, right?”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, because that’s totally what I want—vintage junk.”

And then, the door slams shut.

Y/N spins around, eyes wide. “Uh, guys? The door just closed.”

Kiara, who’s looking around the room with increasing unease, says, “No way. We’re locked in? Are you kidding me?”

John B goes to grab the handle, but it’s stuck. “Great. Of course, the door’s stuck now.”

JJ, still casually rummaging through junk, stops and looks up. “Wait, seriously? We’re locked in?”

“Yeah, JJ!” Y/N says, her voice rising with a mix of panic and amusement. “We’re locked in. Look at this place. There’s no way out.”

Pope starts pacing, his calm demeanor cracking. “This is not happening. We’re literally locked in a shed in a junkyard.”

Kiara looks around, her eyes darting from one junk pile to the next. “Well, at least it’s not a stranger’s shed. I guess we could just chill... but, uh... still... someone has to come looking for us, right?”

Y/N starts laughing, despite the situation. “I mean, yeah. Worst case, we just start a new life in the junkyard. It's practically our new home now.”

JJ throws his hands up. “Yeah! We’ll live off moldy pizza boxes and tire swings. Total dream life!”

John B glares at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Guys, seriously, quit joking. We need to get out of here.”

“Right,” Pope mutters, pulling at the door again. “Maybe if we just pull it...”

The group tries everything—pulling, kicking, even trying to knock the door down, but nothing works. After several attempts, the group begins to lose their energy, and the silence hangs heavy for a moment.

“Okay, so we’re stuck in here,” John B says, flopping down onto an old recliner, his voice nonchalant. “This is officially our new hangout spot, I guess.”

Kiara glares at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, really,” John B grins, raising an eyebrow. “You guys remember that one time we got stuck in that abandoned house during that storm? Remember how much fun we had?”

Y/N snorts. “Yeah, except that house was less junk-y and more... ghost house.”

“I mean, this place is just as fun, right?” JJ says, flopping down next to her, pulling a rusted license plate out of a box. “We got old stuff. We got... character.” He waves it around like it's some kind of trophy.

“Sure,” Pope grumbles, “if by ‘character’ you mean ‘how many ways can you die while inside a shed full of junk.’”

John B suddenly jumps up. “Wait, I’ve got it. We break out the windows!”

Kiara looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “John B, that’s not a good idea—”

But John B is already going for it. “Just trust me!”

After a few attempts, they finally manage to break the window, with John B leading the charge. The group spills out into the sunlight, everyone covered in dirt and laughing like it’s no big deal.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Y/N says, brushing off her hands with a grin. “I guess we can cross ‘getting locked in a shed’ off our bucket list.”

Kiara punches her lightly on the arm. “Yeah, not on my list, but sure, let's count it.”

Pope straightens up, shaking his head. “That was a mess. But at least it was... interesting.”

John B slings his arm around Y/N's shoulders, laughing. “Another Tuesday with the Pogues. Couldn’t get any better, right?”

—

A/N: Pogues back to business as usual. Don’t worry—Rafe’ll be back next time. Please drop a thought if anything stuck out to you, I love hearing what you all think!

–

Next time: secrets don’t stay hidden for long

—

Taglist: @hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86

[nadvs]

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part two)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

content warning parental abandonment

» part one

» masterlist

Zach gets you and his daughter box seats for his next home game.

It happens to be on your first day back at work after his family leaves and he jokes that sooner is better than later, not only because his team might get knocked out of the playoffs, but also because Ella could change her mind about wanting to come.

The private space overlooking the stadium is small, only a handful of other people there, as the late afternoon sun shines over the rich green field.

You learned that Zach is a major league soccer player minutes into meeting him. You knew he had an unusual life and a certain level of notoriety as a professional athlete. But seeing the crowds filling the seats below you makes it real to you.

The music and the announcer’s voice boom through the stadium, fireworks going off as players rush the field. All this craziness doesn’t match the man you know. Zach is kind and humble and beneath his silly sense of humor, he has a gentleness to him that you’d never expect from someone whose last name is sprawled over fans’ jerseys, who’s getting cheered for so loudly that it’s deafening.

Ella excitedly claps when her father appears on the stadium screen, his face hard as he jogs under the bright lights. You gaze ahead in awe, unable to believe that this is the world he lives in when he’s not at the house, running around with his daughter, thanking you for everything you do.

After the game ends in a draw, you take Ella home in time for dinner. As you drive, wipers cleaning away the drizzle that just started to fall, she excitedly rambles about the experience from the backseat. You smile to yourself, glad that she enjoyed herself and proud that you’re the reason she went.

As usual, Ella slips out of her chair with a mouthful of food when she hears the front door open halfway into dinner. You watch her dart out of the dining room, listening to the huff Zach lets out every time his daughter roughly launches herself into his arms.

“That was so cool!” you overhear.

“Really?” he says. “You didn’t get bored?”

“Um, it was kind of too long,” she says, “but I had pictures to color.”

“Appreciate your honesty,” Zach replies with a laugh.

They round the corner to enter the dining room and when Zach’s eyes land on you, your heart does a somersault.

“Hey,” he says to you, nervous.

“Hi,” you reply. “Thanks for the fancy seats.”

“They were alright?”

“Good enough for two princesses,” you tease.

“Princess ballerinas,” Ella corrects you as she sits down again.

“Right,” you say. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that we’re princess ballerinas now.”

Zach mirrors your smile, loving the feeling of sharing a moment like this with you. You stand to clean your plate and it reminds him of what his mother said a couple of nights ago. That you look at him the same way he looks at you.

He hopes that it’s true, because he can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s a little embarrassed that you saw him in a match. He’s always loved soccer, but he never liked how much attention is on him as a major league player.

“Maybe you should wait out the rain,” Zach says to you. “It started coming down hard on my drive home.”

“Good idea,” you say, happy to spend more time with him.

The rest of dinner consists of Ella happily chattering with you and Zach. As she clears her plate, Zach’s phone buzzes on the table top. His lips purse in worry at the notification, and then he shows you the severe thunderstorm warning message on his screen.

“That looks bad,” you say. “How long is it supposed to go on for?”

“It says into the early morning,” Zach answers. “Do you want to crash here?”

“I’m sure I could make it home,” you say. “I’ll just drive slowly.”

Zach’s lips part, and then he closes his mouth, simply nodding.

“What?” you chuckle. His eyes dart away.

“Just worried about you,” he admits. You huff an endeared laugh.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here,” you decide.

He sighs a breath of relief and says, “Thanks.”

Zach takes Ella to bed and you settle on the couch, glad you already have everything you’ll need in your overnight bag in the guest room. You eventually hear his footsteps coming down the stairs over the sounds of the television and the rain hammering down on the roof.

He sits on the other end of the couch next to you, so far that a person could easily sit between you. It’s typical Zach, never getting too close to you. The only time he’s ever touched you is when he shook your hand before your interview half a year ago.

“She fell asleep while I was explaining what offside means,” he says with an adorably puzzled expression. “Trying not to be offended.”

“I can’t believe she’s actually interested in soccer,” you say.

“Ouch.” Zach puts his hand over his heart. “Okay, I’m offended now.”

“I mean because you said she never cared before,” you laugh.

“I asked her so many times if she’d want to come to a game,” he huffs. ��But you suggest it once and she’s immediately in. She always listens to you.”

“Not when I’m trying to convince her to leave the park,” you say. He chuckles. “Can you believe she’s starting kindergarten soon?”

Admittedly, Zach’s concerned about it. In less than a month, Ella will be going to school and he never was one to have much anxiety before he became a father, but all he does now is worry. He doesn’t want any teachers or kids to be harsh with his little girl. She’s already been through enough.

“She’ll be okay,” you say.

“What?”

“You have that worried look on your face,” you tell him. “She’ll love school. I’m sure of it.”

“You can read me pretty well,” he says, smiling. You shrug timidly, thinking back to how quickly he’d noticed something was bothering you on the night of Ella’s birthday.

“What?” he asks.

“It goes both ways,” you admit. “You saw right through me after the party.”

Zach’s jaw tightens, the playfulness between you replaced by a fragile air. He takes a breath before speaking. He knows he needs to have this conversation with you.

“Do you feel better about what she said?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. Now that you’ve had some time to process, you’re okay. “How about you?”

“Well,” he begins, nerves tightening in his stomach, “it wasn’t easy to hear. Ella shouldn’t have to wish she had a different mom. Jade should be here for her.”

He’s never said her name. He’s never looked like this before, his eyes avoiding yours, hand trembling a bit as he scratches his jaw. You can tell this is hard for him to talk about. But he’s choosing to do it with you.

“You said ex-wife that night, but she was never my wife,” Zach admits.

“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know I haven’t told you much. When we talked that night, it reminded me of just how much you don’t know about it. I just… I hope you know that you’re… you’re so much more than Ella’s nanny. You’re our friend. And you’re obviously a mother figure to her. And it feels weird that you don’t know what happened.”

His words sink into you, every syllable having an effect on your heartbeat.

“What happened?”

“Ella was a surprise,” he tells you. “Jade and I were dating in our senior year of college when we found out she was pregnant. And then I got drafted into the league and we graduated and everything was happening so fast, but we were happy and… I stayed happy and she didn’t.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, looking at him as his eyes stay trained off of yours.

“We broke up a few months after Ella was born. But we were both sure we could handle co-parenting. She stayed at home while I worked. I could see she didn’t like it, though. She wasn’t a bad mother or anything. She just wasn’t very… affectionate with Ella.”

Your chest tightens. It’s painful to imagine Ella wanting love and not getting it.

“I don’t know. I thought she’d eventually feel how I feel about being a parent. I tried everything,” Zach says, remembering how he’d encouraged Jade to go to therapy or take time away or work while they hired help. It was like she was stuck in her unhappiness. “But then she left and… that was it.”

He finally looks at you and the tenderness in your eyes gives him a breath of fresh air. It’s what you do. Just by being you, you give him the push to stay hopeful that he and his daughter will be okay.

“We weren’t in a good place when you came. But you made things so much better,” he says. “You do an amazing job taking care of her. I really appreciate it.”

Your eyes light up, the smile on your face gentle.

“Thank you for saying that,” you say. “And thank you for telling me the full story. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Zach sighs now that the weight of reliving it is gone.

“I really do love her. I meant it when I said it.” At this point, you’re sure you love him, too, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. “And I feel lucky to get to watch her grow up. This doesn’t even feel like a job to me anymore.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you don’t want the pay?” he says. You find relief in his joke, tossing your head back with a laugh. “Seriously, though, let me know if you need me to keep things the same while you’re part-time during the school year. I don’t mind.”

“Wait, are you offering to pay me for hours I’m not even working?” you chuckle. “Zach, no. I’m good. I have other things lined up. But thank you.”

“What? Everyone knows you should always accept free money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say. “How do you even have the energy to joke around right now? I just watched you run around for ninety minutes.”

Like always, Zach blushes when you bring up his job. He’s intense and focused on the pitch, but he’s different when he’s at ease at home.

“There’s a break in the middle,” he replies.

“I stand corrected,” you say. “So, how’d you get into soccer?”

Your conversation quickly and easily drifts into topics you hadn’t explored before, the storm raging outside as you learn more about him and he learns more about you. He’s still on the other end of the couch, but soon, his arm is resting against the back of it, his hand inches away from you as you sink into the soft cushions, beaming at each other as you talk.

You don’t want to stop, but eventually you can’t stifle your yawn, prompting Zach to check his watch.

“Jeez,” he says. “Ella went down three hours ago.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up. “That flew by.”

Zach knew that the more he learned about you, the more of a goner he’d be. It feels like he just went on the best date of his life and all he did was sit on his couch and talk.

There’s something between you and he hopes that it’s not just his infatuation misguiding him.

────୨ৎ────

You were right. He had nothing to worry about. Ella’s more than happy at school. It’s only a week into the year and she’s already naming all her new friends when Zach picks her up Friday afternoon.

Her first dance recital is tonight and he’s looking forward to seeing you and his family there. Ella had even mentioned that her other grandparents could come. They were elated to get the invitation.

And of course, when he arrives at the studio that evening, you’re already there, reliable and steady like you always are. You greet him and his family warmly and introduce yourself to Jade’s parents.

It feels wrong to hear you refer to yourself as Ella’s nanny. You’ve been in his life for eight months now and you’ve nestled your way into his soul so deeply that he knows you’ll stay with him forever.

He’s been grappling with this since he first realized he had feelings for you; this bothersome sense of wrong. He can’t pursue you. Technically, no matter how much it doesn’t feel like it, he is your boss. He pays you to take care of his child. If things went sideways, it could push you to leave.

Although he’s never felt this much love for a woman in his life, it’d be selfish. He can’t do it to Ella. He didn’t even want to date other women when Jade was still around simply because it could confuse his daughter.

But you’re different.

His thoughts are interrupted when you look at him, pulling him out of his haze.

“I saved us seats,” you tell him.

Zach’s sitting between you and his father when the recital starts. Eventually, Ella drifts across the middle of the floor between the other dancers.

“This is the part she’s nervous about,” you whisper to him, recalling how she’d told you that this part in the choreography makes her trip sometimes.

You watch her hop sideways, focused as the music grows faster. You’re so on edge that you don’t realize your hand slips into Zach’s, squeezing nervously. She lands her last skip and rejoins the group. You let out a sigh of relief. Then, you look down, seeing your fingers wrapped around Zach’s.

“Sorry,” you say, trying to laugh it off as you pull your hand back. “I think I’m taking a five-year-old’s dance recital a little too seriously.”

Zach can only offer a tight smile. His team’s inching closer to advancing to the championship semi-finals and the pressure has never been heavier, but even that hasn’t affected him like the tension he’s feeling right now. His whole body is on fire from your touch, and it won’t go away.

When the recital comes to an end, Zach leans closer to you to murmur over the applause surrounding you.

“You going out to dinner with us?” he asks.

“Do I have to?” you quip.

“What, you got a date or something?” He worries that the joke was too much. Too flirty.

But you laugh and say, “I haven’t had a date or something in forever. Yeah, I’ll come.” Although it’s hard to believe that a woman like you is single, he’s glad you are.

The eight of you sit in the busy restaurant, making conversation. As Zach expected, Ella insisted she sit next to you. You have endless patience for her, listening to her talk, answering her questions, letting her pick off your plate. He would move mountains for his child. He can tell you’d do the same.

Zach picks up the bill and you all say your goodbyes to Jade’s parents, who insisted they didn’t need to stay the night. Before you head out, you tell his family it was nice to see them again. He can tell you’re a little surprised when his mother pulls you in for a hug, but you kindly return it.

Connie obviously appreciates everything you’ve done for her son and granddaughter. Zach tries not to daydream too much, but he likes imagining being your boyfriend and telling you that his mom called that you’d become something one day.

When you say bye to Zach, your gazes meet like you’ve been waiting for a private moment for ages. Things changed on the night you stayed over. You went from friends to a gray area of something more, neither of you acting on it but knowing it’s there.

Only an hour after Ella falls asleep, Zach’s parents and sister turn in for the night, tired from their drive in. Zach is too wired, silently sitting in his living room, his tea not having its usual effect of soothing him.

He goes through his camera roll, wishing he could go for a drive to relax, but not wanting to leave his daughter in case she needs him. He stares at a photo his mother took of you and him and Ella earlier tonight after the recital, Ella’s hair frizzy from all the jumping around she did.

His smile is wide and so is yours and you look like more than just someone he hired to help take care of his daughter. You look like a family.

He opens your conversation and sends you the photo. It’s nearing 10 p.m. and he’s not sure if you’re already asleep, but you respond a minute later: Aw I love this. Thanks :) How’s your night going?

Zach responds: Good… but everyone’s asleep and I’m still wide awake. Yours?

You reply: Is your tea not working?

He smiles to himself and texts back: Not this time.

You text: I’m kind of wired, too.

How come?

Not sure.

He replies with a joke: Could be Ella’s fault. I saw her eat a lot of your dinner. It’s probably hunger keeping you awake.

Once again, his mind drifts to the way your palm felt against the back of his hand tonight. Then, he hears a door open upstairs. In case it’s Ella, he quietly rushes up the stairs to run into his mom, who’s leaving the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he whispers when he startles her. “I thought Ella woke up and I didn’t want her to think I was gone.”

“I’m sure she’ll be deep asleep until the morning,” Connie says. She notices he’s still in the clothes he wore to the recital. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I’d go for a drive, but I–”

“If she wakes up, I’m here and if she needs you, I’ll call. Go. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go for a drive,” his mother insists. “She’s okay. I promise.”

Zach considers it. With work and Ella and you, his mind has been sort of chaotic. A drive, even a short one, will give him some relief.

“Thanks,” he finally says, giving his mom a grateful smile.

The streetlights plunge him in and out of darkness as he drives through town. When he got in the car, the impulse to go see you seemed ridiculous. With every minute that passes, it feels less and less silly.

Zach eventually pulls over and looks at his phone, staring at the text message he sent you ten minutes ago. How could he even ask to come over without coming on too strong or crossing a boundary?

He’s not sure if he believed in signs from the universe before, but when you text him right when he’s considering if he should text you, he takes it as his answer.

Nothing is ever her fault. But now I’m having a midnight snack lol. Are you still awake?

He replies: Yes. Just driving around. Do you want company?

He’s nervous as he waits. But then you send him your address.

Minutes later, you open your door to gentle knocks, heart skipping when you see him. At this point, being apart from Zach is starting to hurt. You lied when you texted him. You know exactly why you’re wired. It’s because he won’t leave your mind.

“Hi,” he says, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Kind of crazy that you’ve been to my house a million times, but I have no idea what your place looks like.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “You need to see it that bad?”

“I think it’s what’s keeping me awake.”

You laugh, stepping back, inviting him in. Zach’s eyes travel over your apartment, taking in every little piece that you’ve put into it. Being here is more intimate than he expected. And then you shut the door behind him, thickening the tension, both of you now sharing complete privacy in a way you never have before.

“Is that an Ella original?” he says, pointing to a drawing stuck on your fridge.

“Yup. That’s me and her and the castle we live in,” you tell him. You lead him into the kitchen as you gaze at the bright crayon marking the paper. “And that’s her horse. She was very adamant about it being her horse. But I can pet it if I ask nicely.”

He laughs and gazes at the drawing, touched that you’d keep something his daughter made up on display. Even when you’re not at the house, you want to be reminded of her.

“Where am I?” he asks in mock offense.

“I’m sure she meant to include you, but the horse took up too much space,” you explain, looking over your shoulder up at him. He’s inches away from you, towering above you. You’re so close to him that you can see the stubble growing over his jaw.

“The tutus are a nice touch,” he says, pointing to the pink skirts drawn on both of you. You laugh and turn to face him all the way. You clear your throat, smitten that he’s really here.

“She was great tonight, huh?” you ask.

“She was.” Zach’s smile is bright, the same way it always is whenever he talks about her. “And she wanted all the grandparents there.”

“I think that’s progress.”

“Me, too.” He exhales. “It was an almost perfect night.”

“Almost?”

“My hand still hurts,” he mumbles, face pinching as he looks down at his hand.

“Listen…” you say with a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stressed.” Zach laughs and it takes everything in him not to hug you. “Was it really that bad?”

“So bad,” he teases, flexing his hand. “You’re too reckless.”

“Reckless? Is that what you think of me?”

Zach cocks his head, staring down at you with a look that burns through you, and soberly says, “No. It’s not.”

His gaze drifts over your face, taking you in slowly. You think back to the first time you saw those eyes, sad and distant. Comparing the way he looked that morning to how he’s gazing at you right now is like comparing black and white.

The light atmosphere has quickly been replaced by a somberness hanging over both of you. Your heart is thumping against your chest. Hard.

“What, then?” you ask.

How can he even find the words to describe how you make him feel? You fit perfectly in every way. You settled into his life like there was always a place waiting just for you. Even tonight, when you grabbed his hand for only a moment, it felt like he was born to be touched by you.

You’ve brought light to his life. He always looked forward to coming home to his daughter, and now he looks forward to coming home to you, too. And having to continue to live like this, acting like his heart isn’t completely yours, is torture.

“I think you’re…” Zach’s tone is low, lids dropping as he looks at your lips before he speaks again. “Perfect.”

Your breath catches. You’ve been able to keep yourself away from him for what feels like ages. You’re not sure you’ll have the strength for much longer. This is the moment where everything can change. You know you both feel it.

“Should I not be here?” he says quietly.

It’s his way of making sure you’re okay. That you want him to be here as badly as he wants to be here. That even though maybe this shouldn’t be happening, you have faith that it will only bring you both joy, and you don’t need to consider the risks because you’ll never have to face them.

He looks so painfully unsure that you long to comfort him. Your hand finds his and he laces his warm fingers between yours the instant he feels you. He exhales slowly, never having felt so vulnerable before.

Too much is on the line. He’s only thinking of himself right now. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn’t have given in, he shouldn’t have–

“Stay,” you whisper. Your simple word untangles the knot in his chest. You step closer to seal the distance that remains between you. His eyes finally drift back up to find yours.

“I can’t help how I feel about you,” Zach murmurs. “I don’t want to mess up how good things are, but I just…”

He trails off into silence, sighing shakily.

“I know,” you say. “Me, too.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says with a note of pity. You breathe a sad chuckle.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you here.”

Zach’s grip on your hand tightens, his heart feeling like it’s just been put together after being fractured for years. His lips part and while he doesn’t know how to say how much your words mean to him, he knows how to show it.

He leans closer, cupping your face, capturing your lips with a soft and impatient kiss. You dissolve into bliss, eyelids fluttering closed as his hot mouth presses against yours, head swimming, body buzzing.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, eyelashes overlapping as you kiss deeply, hungrily tasting each other in adoration. His arms circle around you and surround you in warmth.

He lets out a short, almost silent moan against your lips, relieved and assured and grateful that you want him this badly, too. Everything about this feels right. He’s where he’s supposed to be, standing here, kissing you, baring his soul.

You’re breathless when you eventually pull away, eyes slowly opening as he tilts to plant a lazy kiss on your forehead, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“I kept telling myself that I can’t like you,” he says against your skin. “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”

You exhale a contented sigh, afraid that you did actually doze off and that this is all just a dream.

“I think I do,” you reply.

Zach’s laugh is breathy, leaning back just enough to look at you. He’s in awe, his lips tender from pressing against yours, his knees weak as he holds your face in his hands. Now that he doesn’t have to hide it or force himself not to stare, he lets himself drown in your eyes.

He brushes his lips against yours again and you smile under the kiss, placing your palm over his hand.

“Is this the hand I hurt?” you tease, gently squeezing.

“Ow,” he playfully winces, making you laugh. You nuzzle your cheek against his palm and smile up at him.

“You sure you like me?” you say. He’s sure he loves you, but it’s too much, too soon to say at this moment. “You know you can’t afford any injuries right now.”

“Worth it,” Zach plays along.

“I keep wanting to ask you about work,” you say. He hasn’t spoken much about playoffs, but you did a little research on his team’s standings. “How has it been? Are you stressed?”

“Pressure’s on, but I’m fine,” he says simply. Your words won’t find you at first. It’s sort of unbelievable how he doesn’t ever flaunt his success, not even a little bit.

“That’s it?” you laugh.

“What?”

“Your team could go to the finals and you’re just fine?” you say.

“How’d you know that?” he says, his heart warming.

“Had to look it up. Not like you’ll tell me,” you quip, pulling away, his hands falling off of you. Zach chuckles, following you into your living room.

“Are we fighting already?” he asks.

“We won’t be if you tell me why you get all cute and shy whenever you talk about your job,” you say, settling on the couch.

He sits to face you, his knee bumping yours. You love that he’s as close as you want him to be, instead of keeping a distance like before. He finds your hands, holding them in his.

“Just a second,” Zach mumbles. “I need to process that you called me cute.”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle against his chest.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice muffled by his shirt. “We talk about my job all the time.”

“Oh, come on. Because we have to. That’s the whole deal.”

“Is it?”

Zach sighs, kissing the top of your head, loving the way your body slightly shakes with your laughter. You sit up again, looking down as you interlace your fingers with his, playing with his hands as you wait for him to speak.

“I love soccer,” he says, “but I never expected I’d be good enough to go pro. And somehow, I did and all the attention that comes with it is just… it’s not me. I’ve never been the loudest guy in the room. Never wanted to be.”

You nod. You could tell soon after meeting him that while he’s confident and loves to joke around, he’s not one to demand the spotlight.

“And now the more attention I get,” he continues, “the more people might want to know about me and I’d rather keep Ella safe and give her a normal life.”

He scratches his cheek, uncertainty flashing on his face.

“And… I’m not exactly proud that I’m not working a normal job. I’m always thinking that maybe it’d be better for Ella if I had a nine to five, but the pay is great and I can’t play forever, so I just want to save up as much as I can for her. Then I’ll find something more steady.”

You're sure you’ve never met a person this humble. It’s nice to know what goes on in his head after having wondered for so long.

“Will you still even need a nanny then?” you ask lightheartedly. Zach purses his lips as he nods.

“I will if she’s you.” You smile as he pulls you in, holding you as your cheek rests against his shoulder.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you shouldn’t be proud of,” you tell him. “You’re an amazing father.”

“You don’t know how nice it is to hear you say that,” he admits. The worries that he’s being selfish have been gnawing at him for a long time. He’s always concerned he’s making the wrong choices for his daughter.

“I think it every time I see you with her. I know you said she was a surprise, but you treat her like being her dad is all you’ve ever wanted.”

Zach leans to kiss your forehead over and over again, palm gently pressed on your cheek, like he’s making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you but couldn’t. You start to giggle under all the kisses, hugging him tighter.

“Speaking of,” you say, “I’m sure you’re thinking it, too, but we should keep acting like we’re just friends when we’re around our boss.”

He breathes a chuckle, nodding as he looks down at you lovingly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it slow. She’ll be so happy when we tell her.”

“You think so?” you say, your heart blooming from the certainty in his words, from the way he unabashedly intends on being with you and telling his daughter.

“She’s always asking me if I like you.” Truthfully, Ella asks if he loves you, but again, he doesn’t want to use that word until he’s sure you’re comfortable with it.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “She actually asks if I like you yet. It’s like she knows it’s inevitable.”

You realize that the way you’re wrapped up in each other does feel like it was always inevitable. You know that your heart would never have been able to resist him. You’re glad he feels the same way about you.

────୨ৎ────

A week after the night in your apartment is the semi-final. You’re sitting in the living room playing with Ella with the game on in the background. She’s partly interested, whereas you can’t ignore the ball of nerves sitting deep in your stomach.

Zach’s been opening up more about his job when you get time alone, admitting that the pressure can give him tunnel-vision sometimes. You’ve taken on the workload as much as you can so that he’s not too stressed.

You’ve kept things the same when you’re around Ella and you’ve already determined that if she asks why you’re so invested in what’s on tv, you’ll simply say you grew an interest in soccer after the home game you both attended. But she’s too busy playing with clay to care.

The first half ends with no goals scored. You set up an afternoon snack for Ella, letting her help, your mind elsewhere as you imagine Zach in the locker room, wondering what his coach is telling him and what he’s thinking about at this moment.

Five minutes after half-time, the opponents score. Your heart sinks. Twenty minutes later, Zach scores. You have to stifle how loudly you want to cheer.

Then, the game goes to penalty shoot-outs. Zach had told you how much he hates when a game comes down to that. It’s a nail-biting few minutes, but Zach’s team wins, securing their spot in the finals. In his next game, his team could take the cup.

Right before dinner, you and Ella change into the jerseys you’d secretly bought a few days ago. Zach already told you that even if his team wants to celebrate a win together, he’d prefer to see you two, so you know he’s coming straight home.

He steps through the front door to see you in his team’s jerseys, rushing to give him a hug. Your arms are around his shoulders while Ella’s are around his hips, both of you excitedly cheering. Zach’s heart has never felt so full.

“So, I take it you watched it?” he mumbles into your hair, reveling in the familiar aroma of your shampoo. It takes everything in you not to kiss him when you pull back.

“You did amazing,” you tell him.

“Daddy, do cats ever come to your games?” Ella asks.

Zach looks at you, puzzled.

“There was a commercial with clips of animals crashing soccer games,” you explain, laughing. “It’s a valid question.”

“I haven’t seen any,” he tells her, kneeling to meet her eyeline. “But I hope we get one so I can tell you all about it.”

“Could we keep it?” she asks.

“If a cat comes onto our field and it doesn’t have an owner, sure, we can keep it,” he says. She jumps excitedly, then runs off to play. Zach stands up again, grinning at you.

“Don’t let her watch any more matches,” he says. “If a cat shows up, I’m done for.” You laugh, crossing your arms simply to keep yourself from touching him.

“Congratulations,” you say. “I know you don’t like the attention, but you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” He looks down at your jersey. “It looks great on you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, turning to show him the back. It’s his last name and number. He almost can’t believe this is really happening, that he met someone like you who cares about him this much.

“Better on you, I think,” you say.

“Impossible.”

You face him and he gazes at your lips in the way you know means he wants to kiss you. In the few private moments you’ve had since you confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve shared warm hugs and sweet kisses. You can’t wait until you don’t have to hide your love for him anymore.

“Dinner in twenty,” you tell him. “I bet you worked up an appetite.”

Zach’s legs are heavy as he trudges up the stairs, partly from fatigue, but mostly because the last thing his body wants to do is be away from you.

────୨ৎ────

Zach’s family drives in to watch the championship game at the house. You weren’t all that nervous around them before, but now that you and Zach are privately dating, you’re eager to impress them.

He had mentioned to you that he hadn’t told them about you yet, but he’s hoping to the next time he sees them. He also told you how his mom had a suspicion about you two, which makes you hope you’re not too obvious.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since you decided to date, but every moment you get alone with Zach isn’t long enough. You knew he was kind-hearted, but now that he’s not holding back, he showers you with affection and compliments, reminding you of how much he appreciates you every day.

Just like it is with Zach, it’s easy with his family. You talk and snack and take turns playing with Ella while you watch the game. The game starts off as promising, but unfortunately, the final ends with a loss for his team.

“He did tell me they were kind of the underdogs,” you say to his family sadly, watching the screen. “I still think it’s great that he got this far.”

The stadium he’s playing in is hours away and he won’t be getting home until after midnight. You spend the rest of the evening with Zach’s family, wishing you could see him and give him a comforting hug.

When Zach gets to the locker room, dejected and disappointed, he checks his phone to see a text from you. I know it’s not how you wanted the season to end, but you played an amazing game. We’re all so proud of you, no matter what.

It’s ten minutes past midnight when you hear the front door open. You’ve been sitting in the kitchen, staying awake on your phone after everyone turned in for the night. You turn on the kettle you already filled with water and find Zach in the dim hallway, meeting his eyes with sympathy.

“You’re here,” he mumbles in surprise. You only close the distance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

“Wanted to see you,” you whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had better days,” he admits, kissing your neck. “This feels good, though.”

“I’m making you some tea if you want it,” you tell him, “but if you’d rather go to bed, I get it.”

“Tea sounds good.” He pulls back, stroking your cheek. “You’re really proud of me? Even though I’m a total loser?”

You half-chuckle, nudging him.

“Never call yourself that again,” you say.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll stop ‘accidentally’ making too much food,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.

You settle in the kitchen, reminded of the first time you sat together like this all those months ago to plan Ella’s birthday party. Now she’s halfway to six years old, growing faster than you could have ever anticipated.

After you put the steaming mug of tea in front of him, Zach puts his hand over yours, squeezing.

“I tried to be positive but I saw it coming,” he admits to you. “They were the stronger team. We’ll just train harder and hopefully get them next year.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you say. “Just don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? You’re not a loser.”

“Baby…” Zach breathes a chuckle. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m always winning. It sucks to get this far and to put so much work in just to lose, but knowing you and Ella are waiting for me at home… That's what my life is really about.”

You stare at him, awestruck, heart beating so hard that you can hear it in your ears.

“I love you,” he says. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say, but I’ve loved you for a long time.”

You bite your lip, giving into the urge to lean closer and kiss him. When you pull back, palm resting on his cheek, you smile.

“I love you, too,” you say. “It’s not too soon.”

“Phew. I was more nervous about telling you than I was about the game,” he says. You laugh, pinching his cheek.

“Stop being so cute,” you whisper.

“I can’t help it,” he quips. “I didn’t forget how you said you haven’t been on a date in forever. What do you think about tomorrow night? Ella will stay with my family and you and I can go out for dinner.”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. You chat a little longer before you head home.

When Zach tells his mother he’s taking you out for dinner the next morning, she’s overjoyed to hear that you’re an item now and throws in a few ‘I told you so’s. When the evening rolls around, he tells Ella he’s running some errands and instead drives to pick you up from your place.

Sitting across from you at a restaurant on a real date feels like a dream. He holds your hand on the table and nudges your knee with his every so often, unable to keep his hands off of you like usual. It’s like talking with a best friend, the conversation flowing so naturally that he refuses to believe he’s only known you for just shy of a year.

When he drives you home after dinner, you lose track of time kissing him goodnight.

────୨ৎ────

You and Zach had discussed that today would be the day. Now that you’ve been together for over eight months, he’s ready to tell Ella.

It’s a Saturday and Zach’s making lunch while you and Ella set the table. Long gone are the days of spending just a few minutes together, one of you arriving at the house while the other one gets ready to leave. The three of you are almost always a unit now, settled into a routine.

After lunch, you leave as planned so he can talk to her one-on-one. Zach finds Ella drawing on her bedroom floor after he says his goodbyes to you and knocks on her door.

“What are you drawing?” he asks.

She holds up the paper, three figures under the shining sun. When he asks if that’s you, him, and her, she happily nods.

Zach settles on the floor, watching the way she colors in the yellow sun, her legs kicking in the air. He’s seen a change in his child. There’s no doubt about it.

While she was always a happy kid, she’s grown to be much more expressive and affectionate since you stepped into their lives. You bring out the best in her. The best in him, too.

He tries to force down the tears that come up every time he looks at his daughter and thinks about what happened a year ago. She’s too small to have to know the pain of abandonment and betrayal. He pushes away the thought.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Zach says, clearing his throat.

“Do you want another bracelet?” she says.

Zach smirks, looking down at the beaded bracelet on his wrist that she made for him a few days ago. She made you a matching one that you always wear, too.

“Yeah, if you’re not too busy,” he says. “But that’s not it.”

He says it exactly as he rehearsed, telling her how happy you make him and asking if she’s okay with you being his girlfriend. When she grins up at him and asks if that means that you can move in with them, he chuckles, tears pricking his eyes.

Zach always felt like he needed to make up for the love Ella’s mother wasn’t giving her. Now, there’s nothing to make up for, nothing missing. He wishes the circumstances had been different, but he knows he’s lucky that he met you.

He was sure soon after he got to know you that his daughter would grow to love you. Deep down, he was sure that he would grow to love you, too.

────୨ৎ────

It’s past nine p.m. when Zach gets home from training. Now that he’s in the midst of playoffs again, he doesn’t get as much time at home anymore, but he takes it in stride.

When he can’t find you on the main floor, he tiptoes upstairs in case you’ve fallen asleep putting Ella to bed. Sure enough, she’s snuggled up next to you, both of you snoozing.

It’s been a month since he told her about your relationship and somehow, she’s grown to love you even more now that she knows you love her dad. Zach wonders if Ella can see how much happier he is these days. He tried to hide how empty he felt before, but maybe she caught on.

He’d rather not know. He’s rather not think about the past at all, really. Because right now, as he gazes into his daughter’s bedroom to see you hugging each other in your sleep, he knows he’s looking at his future.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[twilightkitkat]

What if Worst Wolverine was the same Wolverine from Origins? What if he learned that "Deadpool" Wade Wilson was "Weapon X" Wade Wilson?

Inspired by this ask.

---

When Logan first met Wade in the bar, he felt oddly familiar. Like he knew him, but he couldn't quite place where. He felt nostalgia and regret and something else bubbling up to the surface without his consent. It felt foreign, and he brushed it off when he sobered up. But he kept it in the back of his mind.

But he kept being familiar. His voice, the way he fought, his mannerisms... it was all reminiscent of somebody he felt he should know. Someone long gone.

But it couldn't be, right? All of his old teammates were dead. If this world followed a similar timeline, there's no way this could be someone he knew. He must just be grasping at straws. Delusional, as usual.

It all came to a head a few weeks after the dust had settled. Wade and Logan were drinking together in their apartment, and Wade lopsidedly grinned at Logan with flushed cheeks. Logan felt his heart stutter.

"You know, you were just as cool back then," Wade giggled. "You looked good when you were younger, though I think the silver fox look fits you more with the grey streaks."

Logan frowned. "What do you mean when I was younger?"

"C'monnnnn Wolvie," Wade cooed as he leaned his head against his hand. "Back when we were in the Weapon X program together? I mean, we might not have been the best of buddies but it's kind of mean of you to forget about me."

It's like a part of Logan's brain unlocked. Wade fucking Wilson. Of course Logan remembered him, but he was so different that Logan had never made the connection.

Logan had a complicated relationship with Wade. He both respected him and thought he was a nuisance. Wade's skills were undeniable, but so was his motor mouth. Logan groaned in annoyance most of the time, but Wade's quips had managed to pull a snicker out of him on more than a few occasions. He tried to feign annoyance, but despite what people said, Wade was funny. His jokes were one of the only things that brought any life to the dreary and harsh environment.

Back then, Logan had still been tangled up with Victor and didn't let himself get too close to others (for both his own and their sakes). Still, Wade had found him in the corner of a bar a few times when the rest of the team was partying. He'd sat next to him and just... kept him company. He rambled on about inconsequential things, avoiding the more serious topics. He offered a distraction, a reprieve from the constant violence and solemn atmosphere. Logan appreciated it more than he could convey at the time.

And on the rare instances where Logan wanted to talk, Wade listened. Even if it was drunken gibberish, regrets and frustrations and feelings spilling out into the open. More notably, he didn't report him for having second doubts about the missions. Anyone else would've. Logan didn't do friends back then, but he'd consider Wade the closest thing he had to one.

And then Logan had quit. And left behind his teammates, cutting off all chance of further development. And then Logan had returned, but too late. By then, Wade had been turned into that... thing... by Stryker.

Oh god. The thought of it made Logan want to throw up. Wade, always chattering, with his mouth stitched shut. A mindless drone made to obey orders, a complete antithesis to the man who bent the rules and smiled privately at Logan when he rambled about what could be interpreted as treason. A mockery of everything he stood for.

That Wade was... the same as his Wade. Deadpool was Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson now was the same Wade Wilson from back then.

That means in his world, he'd let Wade down. He'd abandoned him and left him to be experimented on. Worse, he'd killed him. Logan killed Wade.

Fuck. The reason he didn't recognize Wade in the bar was because his was long dead. A clone that he himself had killed.

He looked at Wade, blushing and smiling with adoration in his eyes even as he feigned indignation at Logan not remembering. He looked at Wade and imagined him trapped in his own body, personality erased and gone. He imagined him with his mouth sewed shut, never to speak again. With a flat and empty stare instead of the twinkle in his eye.

Wade had saved him from himself. He'd given him a new home and fought for him to keep it. He'd been willing to die for Logan when nobody in his own universe would so much as look at him. Logan owed him an insurmountable debt, one that he couldn't even begin to repay in this lifetime. But he was trying. To make Wade happy, at least. It was his purpose in this world and would continue to be until Wade decided to throw him out or he finally kicked the bucket.

So the realization that he'd failed his own Wade so horribly made him viscerally ill. Even back then, Wade had been the only one to really see him when nobody else did. When even Victor just looked for a distorted reflection of himself and when everyone else wanted a mindless tool, Wade acknowledged Logan.

In a time when Wade didn't owe Logan shit, when he could've gotten in trouble for being complicit if Logan actually went through with what he said, Wade still protected him. And Logan didn't even think to check up on him in return. (Even when he knew Wade checked up on him. The Tylenol and water beside his bunk didn't appear out of nowhere. He didn't even remember climbing into bed before he passed out.)

Logan left him to die. Logan let Wade die. Wade, who was smart and funny and charming and caring and everything Logan was not. Wade, who had all of that stripped from him while Logan got to keep living. Logan, who took that chance and spat on Wade's fucking grave by ruining it all.

Logan wanted to throw up.

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

Found-Family headcanons for a³'s coven of chaos, part 5: (because they all deserved more time with each other)

(part 4, here) - (part 3, here) - (part 2 - here) - (part 1, here)

Lilia once had a fling with Carmilla, from the lesbian vampire novel. She absent-mindedly mentioned it one time while Billy was browsing 'queer classics' and he looked at her in absolute shock. “What? I wasn't *always* a hermit—” “That's not what I'm shocked a b o u t—”

Lilia is very irresponsible with what she eats, sometimes forgetting food all-together, never checking for expiration dates, etc. (“I don't mind a *lapsed* expiration date-”)

Jen has taken it upon herself to fix that. She won't let her go grocery shopping alone and she won't let her eat whatever. Your girl makes shopping lists and schedules specific meals for every day each week, to make sure her resident scatter-brain stays healthy.

Jen and Alice vent to each other a lot. Mainly because they provide each other with very different, but also always very honest and objective perspectives. Jen reminds Alice to put herself first on occasion and Alice reminds Jen to give others the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

One day, the Kaplans asked to have coffee with the coven, which made Billy incredibly nervous. Mainly because Agatha wasn't making it easy in the slightest.

Sharon managed to save the day, against all odds. She took them to the side for a bit and comforted them, explaining that she herself is just a regular lady, but she's grown to love the others regardless. And so the Kaplans gave the coven a second chance and ended up finding them rather endearing despite their constant quarrels.

Rebecca Kaplan gets a private moment with Agatha. She tells her that she's sorry about Nicholas, and that she almost knows what that feels like, because she almost lost her son. Then there's a pause, and she adds, “... well, not almost, was it?” by herself. Because a mother always knows.

If it was about anything else, Agatha woulf have mocked her. She didn't. She looked at this woman who's lost her son, but can't mourn him, because he's right there with her—and she nodded empatheticaly. There they stood, two mothers of boys who died, filling the void in their hearts with Wanda's son. And they don't love him any less.

“I'm glad he has you ladies in his life. At first I was... Apprehensive, worried, I guess. But at least he has some people who can relate to him more, understand him, mentor him. Because his father and I—he needs more than what we can give him.” — “Well, you're doing something right. You've already given him the most valuable thing. And for that you are his parents, you always will be.”

When Rebecca Kaplan realises Alice is Lorna Wu's daughter she freaks out completely (since we know she was a fan, having gone to her last concert.) She hadn't made the connection before meeting her personally, despite hearing about her a lot from Billy.

The fake car that Agatha distractedly entered in the first episode was built by John Collins (Herb) at Sharon's request, as 'Agnes' had been trying to break into Sharon's car and use it for her crazy episodes. They got worried that she'd get herself hurt, so they made her the fake car to make sure she wouldn't leave her house.

[redrose10]

hii for the prompt game thing: how about 5, 5, and 55 or 60 with Yoongi! I just love how you write Yoongi, but it's up to you if you want to change the member!

I hope this is what you were looking for! I’m so sorry if it isn’t.

< Beauty and the Frog >

CEO Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, very slightly suggestive, Yoongi is pretty mean in this one

CEO, Unrequited love

#55 “That’s not very nice.”

#60 “I fail to see how that is my problem.”

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

You had known Yoongi since you were in elementary school. You had seen him around the building but the first time you really interacted with him was when you were partnered up together in your 8th grade biology class. You refused to dissect a frog and even after the teacher threatened you with an F and a trip to the principal’s office you stood your ground. Yoongi admired that and followed suit earning you both after school detentions. It brought you guys together and you were best friends from that moment on.

Freshman year was intense. Lots of changes and new stressful situations but you had Yoongi by your side so it made everything a little easier.

Tenth grade was better. You had gotten the hang of things and were able to navigate life. You and Yoongi were still best friends and stuck mostly to yourselves. Many rumors went around the school about you two but you always ignored them.

You were in the eleventh grade when you realized your crush on Yoongi. You hadn’t seen him for much of the summer because he went to stay with his grandparents in the countryside. When he walked into the school on the first day your mouth dropped open. He had grown a few inches taller. Most of the baby fat in his face had disappeared leaving him with a chiseled jawline. He had let his hair grow out and he seemed to have bought some new clothes with the money he had earned at his part time job. The first thing he did was walk towards you and wrap you in a hug giving you the first feeling of how much more muscular he had become while working on his grandparents farm. When he said your name his voice was considerably deeper than you remembered. You locked away your secret crush for the whole year not wanting to ruin anything between you two. The thought of loosing him forget was too much to handle.

Senior year of high school was flying by. Yoongi was captain of the basketball team. You took a position as the teams water girl after he begged you too just so guys could get to spend a little more time together. You had decided that after the final game of the season you were going to ask him to Prom. Your nerves were out of control as you waited for Yoongi to come out of the locker room but minutes and minutes went by. Every other member of the team had already left leaving you wondering what was going on. As you exited the school there were mumblings and whispers about two people hooking up in the parking lot. You felt a knot in your stomach as you walked outside only to see exactly what you had feared. Yoongi exiting the backseat of his car with his zipper down and his belt still undone and the head cheerleader following behind while still pulling her skirt back down. When Yoongi came walking over to you asking if you were ready to hit up your usual after game pizza place you declined telling him you weren’t feeling well. He offered to take you home and hang out there but you shook your head accepting a ride from Hoseok instead much to Yoongi’s disappointment. Yoongi went to prom with the cheerleader while you skipped it all together deciding to never let him know about your crush.

College was much of the same only you didn’t feel a soul crushing sense of sadness whenever Yoongi would bring a random woman back to your shared apartment. You had learned to accept it for what it was. The ones he actually dated hurt a little more than the one night stands but you got through it, even having a few romantic adventures of your own.

Graduation came and went and Yoongi started his own record label with some money he and received as an inheritance. You were so incredibly proud of him and excited to see him succeed as the CEO and Owner of his own business.

It took a few years but DTown Records slowly became one of the hottest companies in music while producing nearly every hit on the radio.

When things got too crazy Yoongi offered you a job. He wanted you to become be his Chief Operating Officer. At first you declined saying you didn’t know much about the music industry but Yoongi knew you had a degree in business and he trusted you. So eventually you gave in and became his partner.

It was a lot like the old times. The two of you spent countless hours together all the while your old crush was blossoming more and now to the point you started feeling like you loved him.

Then Yoongi introduced you to Mia, an up and coming artist he had met at some big industry event he had gone too. Immediately you didn’t like her. It wasn’t all jealousy. She just gave you bad vibes. She was a little too quick to use Yoongi’s credit card any time she wanted to purchase something. She was constantly flirting with other men when he wasn’t around. And she definitely did not like you. She had one too many glasses of wine or coffee “accidentally” spilled on you by her way more times than could happen accidentally. She was always conveniently having emergencies any time you and Yoongi tried hanging out. You also heard from Jin, Yoongi’s assistant, that one morning she was giving Yoongi reason after reason to fire you.

You tried to talk to Yoongi but he was having no part of it even going as far as you call you jealous and told you to grow up. A little crack formed in your relationship for a while until he announced his engagement to Mia. He looked so happy and so in love that you put on your best act and pretended to be happy for him even though you were devastated.

The night before the wedding you were laying in bed trying to mentally and emotionally prepare yourself to watch the love of your life marry someone else when there was a knock at your door.

Since it was 3am you were nervous to answer it until you heard Yoongi on the other side. He greeted you with red eyes and sniffles before he broke down in your arms and sobbed.

Through his distress you learned that Mia was in her suite at the hotel so that they wouldn’t see each other the night before the wedding. He had snuck over to her with flowers and a song he’d written wanting to be romantic and surprise her. Only he was the one that was surprised when he found her naked riding some wannabe rapper as she moaned his name loudly into the air. The wedding was called off and Yoongi was devastated. You did your best to comfort him while forcing yourself not tell him you told him so.

Yoongi took a few weeks off to recover so you were in charge and things went smoothly. You were excited for his return only to be horrified at what you were met with.

The once happy and full of motivation Yoongi was replaced with the shell of man who was spiteful and outright mean. His heart melting gummy smile was replaced with a nonstop scowl. He fired people left and right and talked down to his employees. He wasn’t the Yoongi you’d known all these years. His broken heart had changed him to an unrecognizable person. But you still knew deep down that the Yoongi you knew was in there so you stuck around.

Bit by bit you snipped away at the barbed wire that surround him. His favorite coffee, lunch from his favorite Thai Restaurant. Tickets to see his favorite basketball team. Your secret fresh baked cookies that he had always loved.

One morning he came into work to find a brown stuffed poodle that looked exactly like the dog he had when he was in middle school. You saw the faintest hint of a smile at that one and you thought maybe you had finally got to him but then he took the toy and stuffed into the bottom drawer of his desk to be forgotten and started barking out orders to people in the office.

Then one morning Yoongi called you into his office, something he didn’t do much of any more.

“Y/N, I’m moving the headquarters for the label to LA.”, he said after you took a seat.

“Wh-What? You can’t do that.”

He scoffed, “It’s my company. I can and I am. I need to get out of this city and start new. I can’t stay here any more.”

“What about the employees here? What about me?”, you questioned.

“We’ll keep a small team here the rest we’ll have to let go and as for you…I want you to move to LA with me.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Yoongi that’s the other side of the world. I have family and friends here. My whole life is here. I can’t just pack up and move.”

“I understand Y/N. I can’t force you to go but I really want you to. I need you to come with me.”, he said barely above a whisper.

So you agreed. And within a couple weeks you were packed up and goodbyes were said and you were moved to Los Angeles. It was a difficult decision but you would do anything that Yoongi needed and/or wanted.

The company was doing incredibly well while making record profits. Things were also going great between you and Yoongi. You were closer than you had been in a while. Your feelings began blossoming fuller and fuller as time went on now that things didn’t seem so tense.

One afternoon you walked into Yoongi’s office. He was on the phone with someone so you took a seat to politely wait.

“Mmhm I’ll be there.

I know I know it’s been a while.

Yeah my flight leaves at noon.

I know babe I’m excited.”

You rolled your eyes hearing him use the pet name. He smiled when he noticed your reaction before quickly hanging up the phone.

“Going on a trip?”, you asked.

He looked nervous as he fidgeted with a pen, “Actually Y/N, that is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You nodded letting him know you were listening.

He took a deep breath, “I’m moving back to Seoul.”

“What?!”, your mouth dropped open.”

He nodded, “I’ve been talking to someone, her name is Mae. We met at the Valentino show a couple months ago. She’s a model based out of Seoul so I’m going to move back there.”

You shook your head, “Yoongi I…you can’t move back. I gave up everything. I moved all the way to the other side of the world to follow you.”

He scoffed, “I didn’t force you to move here. You came here on your own Y/N. Just move back with me.”

“Yoongi I can’t just keep moving around the world whenever you have a new fuck buddy.”

He looked offended, “Mae is not a fuck buddy. I love her.”

You could feel tears begin to form, “You don’t love her Yoongi. You love that she puts out whenever you demand it. If she loved you she would come to you, not the other way around. Like I do. I’m always here for you. I do everything for you. I love you Yoongi.“

He stared at you for what felt like forever. Finally he slammed his laptop down, “I fail to see how that is my problem.“

His coldness shocked you. He had never spoken directly to you in that way. “That’s not very nice.”, you whispered through sniffles.

Yoongi softened at the sight of you realizing just how harsh he had been. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry for speaking to you that way. I’m also sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you.”, he packed up his things and headed towards the door, “I’m leaving for Seoul tomorrow. You can stay here and run this sector of the company or come back to Seoul. It’s up to you. I don’t really care.”

He walked through the door letting it close behind him.

He moved back to Seoul as he had said. Him and Mae got engaged three months later. They were married the following year and divorced by the next one.

You remained in your position as the COO through all of it, mostly because of the pay and travel perks, because your relationship with Yoongi had become strictly business after you confessed. You stayed in Seoul to run that location while he moved back to LA. It hurt for a while and it took a lot for you to move on from him.

But eventually you did.

And when Jungkook got down on one knee and proposed the first person you called was Yoongi. He didn’t answer. He never responded to the text either. He didn’t come to your engagement party. He declined the wedding invite. All you got was a generic card in the mail that you could tell had been filled out by Jin. Eventually you gave up and decided to put in your resignation because you and Jungkook were moving to New York. He didn’t contact you even then.

It wasn’t until almost three years later that you heard from him again. There was a package that arrived for you.

A card read, “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I wish you all nothing but happiness... I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one.- Min Yoongi.”

In the box was a stuffed animal. A wide smile formed on your face as you took the bright green frog with a pink bow on its head and placed it in the crib next to your sleeping daughter before joining Jungkook in the kitchen to finish up dinner.

[mythalism]

Wait.. so when anon said we traded a few thousand deaths for millions in southern Thedas, are they suggesting that lifting the veil would only cause a few thousand deaths ?

IIRC from what Solas says In trespasser and later shown in the DAV artbook (showing what would happen if rook fails to stop Solas and Solas successfully removes the veil), then taking down the veil was supposed to lead to widespread death across all thedas at minimum OR just straight up kill everyone except the ancient elves.

If it comes down to numbers then losing southern Thedas is still less than what they would've lost if Solas lifted the veil.

However, I still think we should've seen the veil getting removed. If not as the true ending then at least as a game over / fail state in the game. It's been years building up to this moment so at least show us what would happen!

the games have been dodgy and inconsistent about exactly the level of casualty the falling of the veil would cause. based on what solas says in trespasser, i always interpreted "the death of your world" or whatever to be more metaphorical as in the death of the world as we know it, a complete change in reality, a permanent change in peoples way of life, a dissolution of current beliefs and systems, etc. maybe that was me giving both solas and bioware too much credit LMAO. i never really thought of it as "literally everyone is going to die because demons".

but veilguard really did lean into this interpretation (snore.... boring!) with what we see in the prologue. rook also does confront solas in one conversation and estimates the deaths at "hundreds? thousands?" and im pretty sure solas affirms that it would be in the thousands, but that the deaths would be on his conscience. i think they went this route to justify why it was going to stay up in the end, but imo its bad, lazy, and completely contradicts everything we learn in trespasser. literally the point of trespasser is to show us the horrible catastrophe that the veils existence caused in the first place.

solas's decision to bring down the veil and kill "thousands" as collateral damage from demons is not just being weighed against the collateral damage cause by the blight in the south and the evanuris's interference across thedas, he is weighing it against the mortality of every single elf that has ever lived and ever will live, the life of every spirit corrupted into a demon both in the past and forever (something we know he considers to be a fate worse than death, according to his memory of his battle where he sacrificed spirits) and the life of every single mage lost to demonic position, both now and forever. he is also not weighing it in terms of literal deaths, but general suffering. the veil is also responsible for the enslavement and poverty of all elves, on top of their mortality. its responsible for the existence of the mage circles, every single abuse that occurs within them, and every single mage tranquilized. its actually ridiculously unequal. solas literally invented death. of course a few thousand more lives are meaningless to him? what is a few thousand against the literal millions already on his head? trespasser makes this clear as we walk through the vir'dirthara and witness the final memories of the elves that were crushed under falling buildings throughout the empire. veilguard..... hopes we forget that part.

its truly the most cranked to the max, fantasy version of the trolley problem. i think the question pre-veilguard was intended to be analogous to anders decision to blow up the chantry to incite the mage rebellion. its not necessarily should you pull the lever and direct the trolley, or even if the ends justify the means. i think it was intended to be about whether or not he himself had the right to make that decision for the rest of the world, especially considering he is Pride manifested. its less about the cost-benefit analysis of mass casualties to create major societal change and more about an exploration of the things that drive people to the point of such radical action. why did anders feel he had no choice but to blow up the chantry? why did solas feel he had no choice but put up the veil? why does he feel he has no choice to tear it back down? what has driven him to be able to make such impossibly awful moral decisions with such callous ease? and the answer to both is that they were pushed to the limit by the evils their societies were committing. were they right to respond with further, indiscriminate violence? no, of course not. but its a story. we can sympathize with the way they were pushed to the edge and lost themselves in the process.

it comes back to the dehumanization of leadership theme that is all over inquisition and has foundations in veilguard that are never actually realized. solas literally tells rook they never had what it takes to make the sacrifices that leadership requires. and its kind of presented as a villain monologue but HES RIGHT? rook barely makes any difficult decisions in comparison to the inquisitor or solas, even the sacrifice of a single city is a drop in the bucket compared to what solas has done, and rook does it without question and with little remorse. a decision had to be made, and they made it. just like he did.

inquisition was all about how leadership or participation within a corrupt institution makes monsters of us all. leliana struggles with the callous killer she's become at divine justinia's behest (actually a wonderful parallel for solas x mythal now that i think about it), bull has to struggle to unlearn the teachings of the qun by choosing his friends over his duty to his people, cassandra grapples with the horrible truth of the seekers and vows to reform them, thom rainier confronts his literal war crime and accepts responsibility for not just killing a family, but for ordering others to carry it out and bloodying their hands in the process. the INQUISITOR is forced to SIT IN JUDGEMENT and possibly SENTENCE PEOPLE TO DEATH OR TORTURE FOR THEIR CRIMES. what gives them the right?????? divine approval from andraste???? what about when you find out thats all a lie and continue to proliferate the rumor anyway because its politically helpful???? what about in hushed whispers? when the inquisitor destroys an entire world to return to their own without a second thought? its wrong, bad, it should never have existed. you erase it from existence without a single thought towards all the lives that will cease to exist and not one of your companions bats an eyelash. what gave you the right to erase that world? what if the people living in it really liked it? you wouldn't know, you didnt ask anyone other than leliana. i truly am starting to believe that veilguard was designed to deliver on this and then had to pivot for whatever reason (EA perhaps, according to those tweets). the natural conclusion to this story would have been the veil coming down, but not by solas's decision alone, or by him at all. even if you are right, you cannot change the world alone, or the process will break you. you cannot make decisions that weigh the lives of millions without losing your humanity in the process. we saw it happen to anders. ghost-varric even has a line about this in veilguard where he says something about solas seeing his attachments as a weakness, when really they are a strength. the lesson solas needed to learn was not that the veil should actually stay up and he should move on, but that only gods made decisions like the fate of the world, and as he always says, he is not a god. there could have been a better way, if he trusted those around him. the regret demon in the callback actually says this nearly verbatim, which is part of the reason i think this was the original intention. i genuinely think the plan was that the veil would come down but by rook's hand and that the good endings would have involved using your faction connections to figure out how to take the veil down safely and build a new thedas, without the veil but also without the elvhen empire of old bc that shit sucked. it would have taken the entire world coming together to figure out the best way forward, and would have freed solas from the burden of leadership that was actively polluting his spirit into pride, while teaching him the value of teamwork, as cheesy as that sounds. this also is the fufillment of his role as a trickster god - he needs to catalyze ragnarok. i genuinely think this was the original intention because it is so obvious in his writing its insane LMFAO. but him not being the one to usher in that change would be another way to release him from the mantle of trickster god that he didnt want in the first place. the bad ending could have been that without faction and community support, you aren't able to find a peaceful way to bring it down and rook, in a moment of desperation, ends up sowing the same violence and destruction that solas did, the perfect mirror. the lesson should have been that such foundational change and dissolving our current structures is terrifying, but we can build a better world - together, not alone.

its crazy to me to think that legend of korra book 4 pulled this off with opening the spirit portals and dragon age failed to LMFAOOOO.

[mushynka]

Okay. This is my first fic ever so please read this 🫶

This story is intended for mature audiences (18+). Please note that English is not my first language, so there might be some language errors or awkward phrasing in the text sometimes. Feel free to correct me in the comments. I am still learning english so pls. try not to make too much fun out of me. Additionally, this story may not strictly follow the events as depicted in Marvel films or comics and contains creative deviations. I kindly ask that you do not copy or redistribute my work without permission. Yes. I know it's cringe lmao. Enjoy anyway!

Title: "Building a Future"

Words: "3000" (idk exactly)

Characters: Logan Howlett (Origins) x Fem. reader

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long, flickering shadows across the cabin’s rustic interior. You sat by the fire, the soft light from the flames dancing across the room, your legs tucked underneath you. The storm outside was fierce—rain pelted the windows, and the wind howled through the trees surrounding the cabin. It was the kind of night that invited quiet moments, the kind where the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you.

Logan, or Wolverine as most people called him, sat opposite you, sharpening one of his knives with a focused expression. He had removed his shirt hours ago, the heat from the fire mixing with the thick layers of tension in his muscles. You couldn’t help but admire the way the flickering light highlighted the intricate scars that lined his chest and arms—reminders of his past, of the battles he had fought, both external and internal.

He glanced up from his work, catching you staring. His lips twitched in a half-smile, a familiar teasing look in his dark eyes.

"What?" he grumbled, though there was no real irritation in his voice. "You don’t need to be that fascinated by my scars. I’m not exactly a masterpiece."

You smiled softly, pushing yourself up from the couch and walking toward him. "Maybe not, but I find them... telling," you said, sitting down beside him. "They show your story. Your history."

Logan sighed, leaning back against the armrest of the chair, his steel-blue eyes meeting yours. "It’s a history I’d rather forget sometimes."

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His arms, though tough and weathered, still felt reassuring, like home. Logan’s past had always been a complicated subject between you two, and you knew it wasn’t something he opened up about easily. But you didn’t mind. You were patient. You understood that not everything needed to be spoken for it to be real.

The silence between you stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet where two people could simply exist together, where being with someone was enough, even if the world outside seemed chaotic and uncertain.

"You ever think about... the future?" you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan didn’t answer immediately. He took a deep breath, his shoulders shifting as if he were preparing for something difficult. "The future," he muttered, staring into the fire. "Not much use in thinking about it. It always seems out of reach."

You nodded, understanding what he meant. Logan had lived a life of endless turmoil, and thinking about a future—about stability, about peace—was a luxury he’d never had. The idea of planning for something long-term seemed almost laughable to him. But you could sense that, deep down, there was a part of him that longed for it.

"I think about it," you admitted, turning your head to meet his eyes. "I think about us... a future where we don’t have to hide, where we don’t have to fight every day."

Logan’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. "You mean, like... kids? Family?" he asked, his voice hesitant, as though the word was foreign to him.

You smiled gently, feeling the weight of his words. "Yeah. I don’t know. It’s just a thought. But... I want a family. Maybe not now, but eventually. I want us to have something real."

The idea hung in the air between you like an unspoken promise, delicate and fragile. Logan shifted uncomfortably, his usual guarded demeanor slipping just a little.

"You know my... situation," he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "I’m not exactly father material."

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "Logan," you whispered, "I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. You’ve already proven how much you care."

He turned his hand over to hold yours, the roughness of his calloused fingers in contrast to your softer skin. His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if reassuring himself that this moment wasn’t a dream.

"I’m not sure I’m built for that kind of life," Logan admitted, his voice rough but tender. "I’ve never really had the chance to think about it."

You leaned in, your lips brushing the side of his neck as you whispered, "You don’t have to decide now. Just... know that I’d be happy with whatever we build. Together."

For a long moment, Logan said nothing. But you could feel his body relax beside you, a slight exhale escaping his chest. He wasn’t saying yes. He wasn’t saying no. But for once, he wasn’t shutting down the possibility.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drifting in and out of a comfortable sleep, your head on his shoulder, your fingers laced with his. The rain began to slow, the winds calming to a gentle murmur. But the warmth between you two remained, a quiet promise of something that might one day be, even if it was only a distant hope.

[cakepoppresent]

I wonder what Akito has planned?

Transcript under the cut~

[Akito]: I missed you Kenji. How have you been?

[Kenji]: Do you enjoy acting oblivious?

[Akito]: What do you mean? Can’t we just reminisce on the good times?

[Akito]: Let’s just not think about the past. I’m back now and I’d like to fix my wrongs.

[Kenji]: Good times? I wouldn’t say all that.

[Kenji]: Oh? That’s a lot of wrongs you’re going to have to fix

[Akito]: No need to exaggerate

[Kenji]: Stop wasting my time and tell me why you called me over.

[Akito]: I can’t call you just to catch up? Weren’t you worried about me when I was gone

[Kenji]: No. I’m actually upset that you’re back. Does Daisuke know?

[Akito]: I wanted to keep it a surprise

[Kenji]: That sounds like a horrible idea. I want no part of it

[Akito]: I just need to stay hidden for a few more weeks. I know you’d be able to help me

[Kenji]: The last time I helped it cost me a long-term friendship. If you have nothing else to say, I’ll be leaving

[Kenji]; Hurry up before I lose my patience

[Akito]: You’ve always been so rough around the edges. I just wanted to ask you something

[Akito]: Do you know about Luna Villereal...the women that’s been around Daisuke this past year?

[Kenji]: Of course I know. Daisuke hasn’t kept his interest in her a secret

[Akito]: So it’s serious?

[Kenji]: Very. You better stop whatever bullshit plan you have cooking.

[Akito]: Do you think she can really be the next Matriarch? Some actress?

[Kenji]: If not her than it should be you?

[Akito]: Of cou-

[Kenji]: I’m going to stop you right there. It seems like you’re forgetting why you were sent away in the first place.

[Akito]: I already paid the price for that. No need to bring it back up again.

[Kenji]: Still so hard-headed. I won’t be helping you with anything, you’re on your own

[Akito]: You won’t even let me speak?

[Kenji]: Becuase its already doomed. Do you think she‘s “just” an actress?

[Akito]: Her last name doesn’t scare me

[Kenji]: Interesting. You’re on your own. Hope to never see you again

[Akito]: Did you do what I asked?

[Yuki]: Yes...but...I don’t know if this will go over well for us. Daisuke has people everywhere

[Yuki]: Kenji was right. I don’t think we should do anything to Miss. Villeral. She really isn’t just some actress, if we provoke her this may blow up in our faces.

[Akito]: God! When did everyone become to weak-willed?

[Yuki]: I’m just saying...you want Daisuke to give you another chance you can’t use the same methods as before...

[Akito]: Whatever. Just do what I asked

[Yuki]: Akito...Let’s just start over. Is Daisuke really worth all this?

[Akito]: Of course he is. He’s everything. Stop talking nonsense and get to work

[panpanghost]

Part 4 of this (I'm sorry, idk what I'm doing but so many people are interested in this and I'm trying to give you a proper au.)

So the crown was made by dark magic and making the curse required the sacrifice of an entire... kingdom... Would taking it off also require a sacrifice?

There's also something off about the translation, how come it doesn't say how to do the spell or undo it? Where is the rest of this? Maybe I can find something in the celestial realm, but I can't leave Moonpie alone here. They might return to take him and he can't protect himself... Maybe I can get MK to watch over him-

_"Wukong! Showers!" Macaque called from the hot bath tub, it's like a little swimming pool or a jacuzzi, being king is great.

_"Coming!" Wukong loves this. He can't wait to have Macaque wash his hair and untangle all the knots.

After Macaque lost his memories they shower together almost everyday. Sure, when Macaque first walked in on him in the showers he almost had a heart attack, but now that he's gotten used to it like before, it's so great and relaxing. To most creatures it's considered rude or invasion of privacy, but not to monkeys, they do that to show their bonds and love to each other. No one understands that, only Macaque does.

_"Where have you been? Get in." Macaque said already sitting in the water.

_"Sorry about that, little ones were having a fight." Wukong says undressing,

_"Again? These guys create trouble when there's none."

_"I know, right?" Wukong said relaxing in the warm water,

_"Don't get too comfy, someone needs to groom my furr."

_"So demanding." Even though he said that, this is Wukong's favourite part about the showers, Macaque loves his furr, sure it's not as thick and silky as it used to be but Wukong will make sure it gets back to its previous glory.

_"Hey Sunny..." Macaque spoke after a while, picking at his tail,

_"Yeh Moony?" It's been so long since Macaque used that nickname for him, he can't get used to it, his heart will explode.

_"I was wondering... Would it be okay if you take me to see the kid and his friends."

_"Wh-Why?"

_"I want to ask them something."

_"You can ask me."

_"I know, but you won't answer."

_"What are you talking about? I always answer."

_"No, you never do. I don't even know the kid's name because you won't tell me and won't let me meet him to ask!"

_"It's MK. Just calm down, no need to be so angry about it."

_"I am angry, Wukong. Why won't you tell me anything?! Why does he have your staff? Why is he radiating your energy?! Why is he even allowed to come here?! Is he-" Macaque takes a deep breath, "Is he yours?"

_"What? NO! nonononono no, he's not, he was just born from the same rock as me, that's all."

_"What?"

_"Listen, I gave him the staff because I want him to be my successor."

_"A successor? You're immortal, why would you need that?"

_"Because... Because I'm tired." Wukong let down his glamour as he said that and Macaque could see all his scars, it was silent for a moment,

_"oh Wukong..." Macaque watched in horror, he approached slowly in case his sun wanted him to stop, "life hasn't been kind to you, has it?" Macaque held his face in his hands,

_"..." Wukong just melted in Macaque's warmth as he kissed his scars, gently, one by one,

_"Who did this?" Macaque asked, looking in his king's eyes.

Wukong saw it, the same murderous eyes his moon had when he first saw the monk use the fillet on him. Wukong doesn't blame him, he had the same look on his face when he saw his moon drenched in blood and those assholes trying to abduct him. He'll kill them when he finds them.

_"He's gone, been dead for years now."

_"Hm. Lucky." Macaque said, a bit of disappointment in his voice.

_"Heh, forget about him, just, stay with me okay?"

_"Where would I go without you?" Macaque hugged Wukong, bringing him closer to his chest.

But you did, you left, and I didn't know where you were, you only came when the world was ending then disappeared again. But it's ok now, You can't leave. I won't let you.

_"Hey, do you think we'll have matching scars?" Macaque asked jokingly,

_"Why? Does it hurt?" Wukong yanked himself out of the hugg and held Macaque's head, is the crown crushing his skull?!!!!

_"No, it doesn't," Macaque held his hands, "I can't feel it most of the time, only when I try to use my powers. I was just wondering if it'll leave a mark, and then we can have matching scars."

_"Not unless you can pluck my eye out."

_"No use, it'll just regenerate."

_"Yeh, that would happen." Wait-

_"Let's get out of this shower, it feels suffocating and I'm hungry." Macaque got out of the tub, "Let's go."

My eyes regenerate, can I give him one-

_"Wukong!"

_"A! You go first, I'll just wash a little more then fallow you."

_"Alright, but just wash up, I'll groom your furr inside." Macaque said putting a towel on,

_"Ok." he gave Macaque a little smile as he left.

[imbuedebauchery]

While I love to see everyone so excited about Isha,

especially where it concerns the potential for Jinx's healing, I'm shocked to see a lack of concern for the child and what she means to the story as a whole.

Arcane has always been about cycles of violence, about how people become doomed by violence to uphold systems of violence. It has always shown us this through children. Arcane is fundamentally built on the trauma of children and how that trauma becomes an inescapable vortex.

Vi would not be Vi if she was not extremely young when her parents died. She would not base her entire sense of self and worth around protecting others - she would not consider herself fundamentally wrong and reprehensible for failing to protect her charge, Powder - if not for the way this identity was cemented into her youth. The Enforcers took everything from her. The whole point of her story is how she negotiates (terribly) with all these moving parts - pieces that were presented to her through the vulnerable and fractured lens of being a literal child.

Same with Jinx. Let's not forget what her trauma looked like. Where Vi was forced to be an adult right from the beginning of her life, Jinx never got to grow up. She was forever trapped by her nightmares and hallucinations, unable to process her emotions like an adult. We know how this ended. (Terribly.)

The sister cities are at war. The sisters are at war. They were subjected to ruthless violence and isolating practices throughout their youth. One of the fundamental scenes from S1, E1 is the baroque-invoking montage of Vi, Mylo and Claggor fighting the other kids while Powder sat and watched, horrified. This could very well have been one of the worst, ugliest displays of close-up violence Powder was subjected to in her youth.

Why is it okay that this happens to Isha?

Maybe "okay" is the wrong word. I'm not accusing people of condoning or celebrating any kind of violence involving children, not by any means.

My question is: why are we cheering so loud for Jinx to be reverse-adopted by this child when their first encounter is after a lethal gunfight? Jinx shows her a ruthless display of unthinking, uncaring violence. She has become the undercity embodied with all her chaos and destructive tendencies. Isha was an evader - she ran from the danger. She was a survivor, not a killer. But the moment she is shown someone who cares about her in the same motion that she shows her how the undercity really works, she associated that care with that violence.

Did Isha know what it meant to put herself in Vi's way? Yes or no both bring their own problems. Yes, she understands death and what it means to kill people, and would participate in that act - would either be killed by Vi, or pull the trigger on her - to keep her new source of care safe. No, she has no idea what she's doing, and is blindly acting on love and attachment alone.

This was the question that would have followed Silco and Powder all throughout Powder's upbringing.

Yes, Jinx will be given opportunities to see herself, to see Powder in Isha, and to try and make things better for Isha and thereby address her own childhood trauma. But it's already off to a horrific start. Jinx is ultimately powerless to change how the undercity works (we'll see if she unites it! But likely won't change it), and cannot afford to show anything other than express and expert violence to those she loves. There was another post that talked about how the three girls, Isha, Jinx, and Sevika, communicate in body language and grunts and don't need words to communicate anything - yes. because their communication is based in beating the shit out of people. This makes them good fighters, not good at fixing issues or approaching trauma. They will simply continue to try and solve their problems and become a family in the only way they are familiar with: through killing others.

Another child is simply being roped into the way of things. Another child is being put at risk. Another child will grow up and show other children that violence is what keeps the world chugging along.

Whether or not Isha dies, something tragic will befall her. Something that will provide her with an irreversible fork in the road. She will either die, and Jinx will see that this is what her system, her city, does to people. That this is what she is permanently cursed to do to people. Or Isha lives, and faces something traumatic. Jinx realizes that this is what happens to children in the undercity, and is hopeless to affect any kind of change.

Or... Isha lives. She suffers the moment of extreme horror that will change her forever, and has no coping mechanisms, but saw enough lost love in Jinx that she is able to piece together a way to continue in this world without resorting to violence. She finds a way to address that trauma without unleashing it back on the world.

I'd like to think, knowing how Fortiche will be more than aware of the themes of childhood in this series, that Isha will live. Introducing a child this late in the game - a universal symbol of hope for the future in any given fiction - presents them with the opportunity to express how things can change. Maybe our wretched adult freaks are doomed, but maybe... maybe there's a chance. Maybe not everything is absolutely hopeless.

If they kill her? There is no shred of hope in the rest of this series. I'm sure of it. Literally nothing good will come out of any other plotline in S2 if Isha dies. She is the canary, and oh boy, we're going down deep into the mine with S2.

Why must a child suffer for Jinx to learn? I think this is the ultimate question that comes out of seeing the excitement for the new trio family. Why do we have to rope a literal child into a murder duet so that Jinx might be able to see her own traumas in a different lens?

There's something about the doom of children to systemic violence that just makes me weepy every time. Rewatching S1 E1 had me in tears almost every minute. Knowing that these kids, these children, were participating in practices that would doom them. Knowing that the adults we see at the end of S1 and where we are in S2 are direct and inevitable products of their youth. Kids that deserved love and safety, and were instead handed war and weapons. And we're watching it again in real time! And cheering about it????

I had to ramble about this because I just haven't seen anything on it - and maybe I'm wrong, maybe it just hasn't crossed my feed, maybe everyone is acutely aware of this as a base-level of knowledge and I just didn't get the memo. But I'll share my thoughts anyway.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 6 - Lilith

Noah had text her two hours ago, asking if they could talk. Again. Since then she'd been an anxious mess. Part of her was shocked he hadn't just shown up like the last time. Everything in her told him to tell him no. That there was nothing to talk about anymore. He had said he was sorry and they could go about their lives. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't bring herself to tell him to leave her alone. What the fuck was wrong with her? She should hate him. So why couldn't she?

Sadie joined her on the back porch, handing her a takeout container and a fork. Lilly couldn't help the smile at the small gesture. She'd sort of started the tradition back when the two of them had just met, always giving Sadie food from her and Noah's dates. Now it was her doing it after hers and Jolly's.

"He wants to talk."

"So, no stomach for food at the moment?" Sadie took the food back, knowing too well what happened if she ate while nervous. It wouldn't stay down long.

"I don't know what to say." Lilly sighed, her stomach starting to churn more forcefully.

"Listen," Sadie began. "I know we all know I'm still pissed at him. But, maybe hear him out? He at least seems like he's trying."

Lilly huffed out a laugh, dropping her head into her hands, elbows resting on her knees. She had expected Sadie to tell her to ignore him or to tell him to fuck off. Which almost would have guaranteed she agree to talk to him. Probably something Sadie had counted on, actually.

"I don't know-"

"Lilly, I heard him, too. He's never sounded like that. Jolly said he's been locked up in his room since." She sighed. "Maybe talk to him. If you don't want to hear what he has to say, that's fine, but at least give him a chance to do what he should have done years ago."

Sadie had a point. Never had she seen Noah like that. Sure, she had seen him close a few times when things weren't going right, but never to the point that he was on his knees, clutching his chest like that. The way he had sounded, like he was breaking. Shattering right in front of her. How unfocused his eyes had been. He hadn't been there in the present. Noah had been somewhere else in his mind.

Chewing on her bottom lip she picked up her phone, debating between texting him back and just calling him. Suddenly Sadie reached over, taking her phone from her.

"Hey!"

"Jesus. You both need to learn how to just get on with it." Sadie laughed, typing out a response for her and hitting send. "He'll probably be here soon. I'll make myself scarce."

***

Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched him pull up, her hands beginning to shake. Fuck. Right now seemed like a real good time to start smoking. Maybe she should have had some wine or something first. Either way she needed something to calm the nerves. Yet here she was empty handed, watching as he climbed out of his car, a tall iced coffee in hand. No hoodie this time. Just a pair of shorts and a plain white shirt.

She watched, helpless, as he climbed the steps onto the porch. Watched as he walked over to her, holding out the iced coffee for her. Her stomach flipped at the realization that he had brought her some kind of peace offering.

"Iced spiced chai, double shot, with a pump of pumpkin, right?" He asked, his voice soft.

"You remember my order." It wasn't a question, more of an observation than anything. Carefully, she reached out, taking the coffee from him, grateful to have something to hold. "Thank you."

Noah nodded, sitting in the chair opposite her. She had to admit to herself she was shocked that after all this time he had remembered something so small. Then again, she clearly hadn't changed much in five years if she still got the same coffee every day. Nervous, she took a sip, not daring to look up at him.

"Sorry about the other night," he started.

"I don't know. I think that's the most honest I've ever seen you, Noah," she quipped, wincing at her own harshness. "Sorry."

"No," he chuckled. "That's fair. That's really fucking fair."

"I'm not sorry that I finally was honest with you. I am, however, sorry that I started having a fucking panic attack, though."

"You're okay, though?" She asked, finally looking up at him.

Now that she looked at him she could see just how tired he was. Like he had barely slept. And deep down she felt bad for him. And maybe a little guilty. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hard on him the other night.

"Honestly? Been better. But, comes with the territory, I suppose."

The two of them sat there, a heavy silence falling between them. There he was, being honest again. The Noah she had known would have said he was fine. He would have skirted around the issue entirely and made a stupid joke.

"Listen, Bambi. I fucked up. Royally. You didn't deserve any of the shit that I did. Even the stuff you overlooked from the start." He grimaced, remembering some of the shit he had done.

"Noah-"

"Nope. Not done. You are also the first person I should have reached out to once I got sober. Instead I've been too chicken shit, as Nicholas loves to point out, to face you because the shit I put you through at the end? That was beyond fucked up. Like, way beyond. I was doing shit just to hurt you. And you deserved better. You still deserve better."

Lilith sat there, gripping the coffee he had brought her, feeling like she was going to vomit. Tears blurred her vision, her mind racing. Here he was, giving her more of an apology than she had ever thought she would get. And as much as she wanted to be angry, she just couldn't anymore. She wanted to scream and yell and call him an asshole, but the anger and the words just wouldn't come. Where did she go from here?

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[izvmimi]

cw: selfship-coded. part 2 of a sort to this meet-ugly. reader is a doctor and knows nami from her past.

“So what you mean to tell me right now is that you’re calling me when the medicine floor is full to bursting to admit a… reindeer to the hospital?”

You keep your voice neutral and professional as you talk through the transponder snail, who has picked up the characteristic protruding ears of one of your closest friends and coworkers.

“It’s complicated.”

You grimace.

“I’m not a vet, bestie, and neither are you.”

Your friend pauses on the phone for a moment, and you can tell the full force of the ridiculousness of the situation has finally hit him, but there was desperation in his voice, so you bite your lip, waiting for his response before you agree to go see his patient. Hopefully, it won’t take too long, you think, given that you’re alone managing the unit for the rest of the day.

Out of kindness, you sent your intern home early about an hour ago, thinking that today would shape up to be a quiet Sunday, possibly a piss poor decision. Things are still relaxed however, and as you gather up your things to leave the workroom, you listen intently to the rest of your friend’s report before you formally take a look at the purported animal patient. 

“Its friends say that it apparently has a more human form, even if it looks the way it does today?”

Human form? “You think it’s Zoan Devil Fruit maybe?”

You’re marching down the stairs, almost tripping on the last two, when he replies, “Typically they revert to their human forms when they’re sick though, this looks like the opposite.”

“Humans are animals, too, I guess,” you muse. He doesn’t answer immediately, and you hear a sudden commotion in the background. 

“Shit, gotta go,” he offers and he’s immediately off, and you watch the Transponder Snail stop responding. Setting it down at a nurse’s station in the emergency department, you locate the bay you were told to check in and find a bunch of people huddled, but not resuscitating, a few nurses clearly idling and chatting. 

Pushing through gently until you can introduce yourself, you give your name, 

“Hi, I’m Dr. ___”-

And before you can even pull back the curtain, the first person you see is not the reindeer that is sprawled out, eyes closed but still breathing with a steady, stable rhythm, but one of the most memorable people from your childhood’s striking tangerine hair, and you lose your breath temporarily. 

“No fucking way,” she says, rising, and you, also shocked, in her all the memories of the past you try so hard to erase in your day to day, rushing back, until she throws her arms around you, and you throw your arms back around her. 

She’s supposed to be in disguise, and later she’ll admit to you that it’s because she has a terribly large bounty on her head, but you don’t forget a face, especially around the eyes. 

Even if it’s been years and years.

Sniffling, you pull away and thank her, before turning your attention to the bonafide reindeer - admittedly the cutest one you’ve ever seen - with a high fever sitting in front of you.

“Hey, Nami… tell me everything you know about him,” you say, your voice warm and thankful. “And let’s catch up later.”

—

“You know, part of me always wondered what became of you.” Nami states, once the three of you have been situated in a proper hospital room, an IV drip started by a somewhat reluctant nurse while other floor nurses and staff peer curiously through the window. You smooth the wrinkles in your scrubs and smile at her again, taking in the fact that the last time you saw each other you were just on the verge of turning 14, and you’d been trying to help her store a load of jewels she’d swiped from a jewelry store.

It was the second to last time you ever used your Devil Fruit powers for wrongdoing, and you try not to think about the true last time. 

“I didn’t really imagine you’d become a doctor after all that,” Nami teases.

“It’s in my blood apparently,” is your simple response, one that warrants elaboration in the future. You tap the tubing of the IV and take another look at the young deer-man before you, who Nami says is named Chopper, pressing a finger to his calf to check for leg swelling briefly, then look back at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a pirate now.”

You blink.

“I thought you hated pirates.” Your voice has softened into a whisper.

Nami smiles, the kind that seems to hold back a story that is far too grand to share all at once.

“And I thought you were a drug smuggler,” she says, with a wink. Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, and you say nothing else. Now is not the time really to explain how you got out of that situation, the least of all reasons because there could be prying eyes. 

Changing the subject quickly, and also due to curiosity, you sit down ahead of her and ask for her to share to avoid having to spill your own dirty laundry, and your scheme works, as Nami recounts her years since the two of you parted ways and the pirate crew she’s grown to know and love.

And you hear one name more frequently than all the rest.

—

You take care of Chopper for three days and match a few more names to faces - Sanji, who somehow manages to toe the line of sexual harassment with all the nurses but never actually tips over it and Usopp who you wish would talk less and listen more. You have to admit that there’s a charm to the two of them that complements Nami well, even if she seems to be yelling at them half the time, and your talks with Chopper during rounding are fascinating as soon as he gets better. After the initial shock of a talking animal, you find that he is highly intelligent (probably more so than you), very susceptible to praise and also very kind. 

Linking the four together is that same quality, kindness.

—

“Don’t you think maybe you’re trusting me a bit too much?” you muse, your thumb running the rim of a cocktail while Nami sips on her own drink, and Chopper a glass of freshly squeezed juice. “You do have insane bounties on your heads and I might not be the same person you met years ago.”

“I doubt you’ve changed,” Nami says somewhat confidently. She looks around at the tavern, and with the lack of wanted posters on the walls anywhere and the relative reclusiveness of this town, her guard is down. She leans in. “Unless you’ve set us up already, and in that case perhaps I’d have to kill you.”

There’s a short pause, and the two of you burst into laughter, even if Chopper for a moment looks between the two of you with a mild concern.

“I’m glad you came with me today though, because I haven’t been here in a week since there’s a weird guy I’ve been trying to avoid here and I was starting to miss the food.”

Nami’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh, what does he look like?” 

“Like average height, dressed like it’s summertime, and-” you pause and duck.

Speak of the devil.

“Ugh, he’s here,” you whisper from practically under the table. Nami takes a look back, and to your horror she waves.

And her illustrious captain and your meet ugly collide into one person with a big wide smile.

“Great to see you again!”

It finally occurs to you that the names were the same - Luffy.

[dad-fckr]

i hate how a big part of the fandom is making connor out to be some kind of poor little meow meow, stupid small baby boy, comparing him to cole (a six year old???) in behaviour (ig?? bc i doubt they claim those two look alike) and then use this to point out how "problematic" hankcon is, like. this android looks thirty and he. kills. people. hes not a defenceless puppy. and speaking of dogs - how did "i like dogs" become such a big part of his personality in fandom spaces, when (while he might actually like them) he said it to manipulate hank? same as his music taste, and his "interest" in baseball. connor really has those big brown eyes that make ppl forget about his crimes huh

For me, the moment people on the internet are angry about fictional characters kissing i immediately start to not bother trying to find the logic in the way they act because they've fallen at the first hurdle.

While these people are pissing on the floor and desperately trying to find any excuse they can to 'disprove' a ship, normal grass-touching adults in fandom with half a brain dont care whats canon or not because... well thats what fandom has always been. Not giving a fuck about anything canon

I'd say don't waste your time trying to understand them, because you aint gonna. Just focus on having fun with ships. Annoying these people by ignoring them is way funnier in my opinion <3

[sammy8d257]

Saved Messages - AvA Sticktober 2024 Day 17

Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate: A Melted Marshmallows Side Story

Word Count: 2123

CW: Angst & Hurt No Comfort, Swearing, Parental Sickness (Purple's Mom), Character Death (Purple's Mom), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Summary:

You have 17 saved messages To listen to your messages, press 1 To send a message, press 2 To change your personal options, press 4 To disconnect, press * - [1]

[AvA STICKTOBER 2024 LIST]

[Ao3 ver.]

-

(LMAO- FINALLY POSTING THIS 2 WEEKS PAST THE END OF STICKTOBER, in my defense, I got busy and my attention was captivated by minecraft smp RP, RIP o7

I will preface this with a warning, this ficlet can get a little intense with the angst so take note of the CWs and take care of yourself! 💜)

=o=

You have 17 saved messages

To listen to your messages, press 1

To send a message, press 2

To change your personal options, press 4

To disconnect, press *

-

[1]

-

First Saved Message

Sent: March 2004

From: My Flower 🌸

"Hi baby! Hee-hee, I know you're just across the room but a certain someone is veeeeery excited about the new phones and wants to leave a very special message to test out the voicemail system."

[sounds of rustling]

"… okay now make sure to hold the phone like this- And speak clearly into here-"

"Hi papa! I have a super duper secret message to tell yah!"

[a pause before sounds of running feet across the floor]

"Wah-?! Purple my phon-"

 [a door slam]

"Mama hid the cookies on the top shelf!And I love you so much!! You're the best papa in the world!!"

[the sounds of shuffling and the door opening]

"There you are my little sprout. May I have my phone back please?"

[giggling]

"Thank you Purple. How about we go see if your papa gets your message. And yes Blue, I can still see you laughing even if you hide behind the door frame. So here's my message! I love you my dear."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Second Saved Message

Sent: March 2004

From: My Flower 🌸

"Hello my love, do you think you could do me a huge favor and pick Purple up from school today? The ladies at the boutique are running a lot later than expected and I'm afraid I'll be holed up here for another hour."

[a muffled greeting can be heard]

"Oh hello Jewel, it's always a pleasure to see you today! If you give me one moment, I'm just finishing up a message for my husband!"

[a muffled affirmation]

"Thank you darling, I'll be with you in one moment!

Ah, duty calls! I have to go but oh! Before I forget, remind me to have our discussion later tonight. You know I'm not as knowledgeable when it comes to the whole stick figure fighting scene and if you're so keen on Purple to learning, I'd like to get more details."

[the sound of a doorbell alert rings]

"Oh hello! Welcome!

… I have to go, I love you Blue, see you and our little sprout at home!"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Third Saved Message

Sent: August 2011

From: Orchid

"..."

[a sigh]

"Listen, I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to talk to right now but whether you want to talk to me or our lawyers, we still need to discuss this."

"My lawyer stated that there are two routes we can take for this. Either we get fully divorced or we can do a legal separation. It is at the behest of my lawyer that we come to a decision soon and I'm inclined to agree."

"..." 

"If you don't want to talk to me, then fine. Get your lawyer to talk to mine. I just… I just don't want to drag this out any longer than it needs to be."

[another sigh]

[mumbled] "... shit I need to check on Purple again…"

"Goodbye Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fourth Saved Message

Sent: June 2013

From: Orchid

"... Hi Papa. It's been a bit. 

I uh, mama let me have her phone to play the tetris game and I clicked on the wrong thing, by accident! But it was the place with all the names and numbers and I found your name and it's been so long and I thought…

I turn 14 in a month. I think maybe, if you want, you could com-"

"Purple? Little sprout who are you talking to?"

"No one mama! I was-"

"May I have my phone back?"

"Yeah hold on let me just-"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fifth Saved Message

Sent: June 2013

From: Orchid

"Don't talk to Purple." 

"Do you hear me? Don't you ever talk to them again." 

"We don't need you."

"I'm giving Purple a phone for their birthday and when I do, I will text you their number."

"Block them."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Sixth Saved Message

Sent: July 2013

From: [BLOCKED NUMBER]

"Hi Papa! It's Purple. Mama gave me a phone for my birthday."

"I got your number from Mama's phone so now we can talk again! Ah, or you know, whenever you have time."

"..."

"Mama got mad at me for calling you last month. She's still upset about you and I-"

"..."

"I don't know how I feel. It's my fault. I should have been better. I know I messed up. I just…"

"Uh! Eh, I apologize. I shouldn't worry you with that stuff. I hope you're doing well! I tried texting you but the message said it didn't deliver? I'll have to ask Mama if I messed something up again."

"But I'll call you again soon! Or maybe text? Uh, we'll see!"

"Umm… bye!"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Seventh Saved Message

Sent: May 2015

From: [BLOCKED NUMBER]

"Pap-uh… I mean, uh… Dad. Sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

[Three deep breaths]

"I'm sorry for calling you. I know you don't want me to. No one ever does but I don't know who else to call and I just-"

[another breath cut off by a short distressed whine]

"Mama she's- fuck, sorry I'm sorry. Mama is, we're, we're at the hospital. She collapsed and and and-"

"I'm scared. Dad, Papa, I'm scared. I don't-"

[A grunt followed by a hiss of pain]

[muffled] "Get a hold of yourself!"

[A deep breath]

"The nurse said to call someone in case Mama needs to stay overnight and I know you don't like me but- !"

[the sound of door opening]

[muffled] "Are you Ms. Orchid's child?"

"Yes, yes! Is she-?"

"Your mother is okay. The doctor is coming soon to look her over and she requested you to be present in the room for it."

"Okay okay, thank you, thank you. Let me just-"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Eighth Saved Message

Sent: May 2015

From: Orchid

"Why did you call me?"

"No actually better question, how did you know I was in the hospital? I swear to Cursors Blue if you talked to Purple I am going to-"

[frustrated sigh]

"Look, it doesn't matter all right? I'm…"

"Well, it's nothing that concerns you anymore."

"If you really want to talk, call me in 5 hours. Purple will be in bed by then."

"Goodbye."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Ninth Saved Message

Sent: February 2017

From: Purple

"Hello sir."

"I apologize, I probably caught you at a bad time but before you close this message completely, please hear me out."

[a pause and a sharp intake]

"I need you to increase the amount of alimony you send per month. Not by a lot! I got a part time job recently so that should help a lot with the problem but I'm still concerned."

"..."

"Mama she… Orchid's treatments aren't working. Well they're not making things worse but she's not getting better either. We've been fine up until now with paying for medical stuff but there's a new treatment that I want her to try but it's a little more expensive. I just worry…"

"All I'm asking is at max an additional 5% of what you're already paying monthly. And I know how much that is because I do the taxes now."

"... Please. I just want her to be okay."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Tenth Saved Message

Sent: February 2017

From: The Man 🕶️

"Hey hey hey, Big Shot! Wasn't expecting a call from Mr. 'Killer Cobalt' himself on my day off. Sorry I missed yah the first time, you know how busy a man can get."

"But regardless! I listened to your message and I'll see what we can do about getting you that increase in pay. Gotta talk with the bigwigs. In the meantime, if you really are in need of more dough, your best bet is to find some additional gigs to fight at. I might be able to sign you up for a tournament if you want?"

"Eh, we'll hash out the details later, preferably tomorrow. You know what they say, 'All work and no play makes Granite a very dull boy'.

Heheh, alright catch you later Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Eleventh Saved Message

Sent: March 2017

From: Purple

"Thank you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Twelfth Saved Message

Sent: March 2018

From: Orchid

[a muffled steady beeping]

"..."

"You know, despite it being months, no years of this happening to me, I still can't believe this is it."

[a shaky chuckle]

"I was hoping for you to be in the middle of a match to call you just so I didn't have to have this conversation in person. But now that I'm here, I wish I could hear your voice again."

"I wish I could hear you say you love me again… It's pathetic…"

[a wet laugh]

"Heartbreak. That's what I was diagnosed with. Heartbreak that developed into an actual heart condition because of my animation origins. Can you fucking believe that? All of this because I came from a drama animation."

"I don't know why I never told you… That's a lie, I know why. My pride. My pride didn't let me. I didn't want to believe you leaving had any effect on me. I didn't want to believe anything was wrong. I wanted to believe without you, everything could just go back to normal."

[a sob bit back with a laugh]

"Instead, I messed everything up. We failed them. I failed them. I failed Purple. I kept it all hidden until it was too late. What parent has their child to look after them like this? They just turned 18 a few months ago. They're still so young. And now I'm never going to see them grow-"

[sobbing]

"It's not fair. To any of us. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish you weren't such an asshole. I wish you didn't leave. I wish we never met. I wish I didn't still…"

"..."

"Goodbye Blue. I wish I didn't miss you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Thirteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: Purple

[sobbing]

"FUCK FUCK- BLUE- DAD- PAPA PLEASE"

"SHE'S DYING! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

I KNOW YOU HATE ME! I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE!

SHE'S DYING

IF YOU CARED ABOUT HER, IF YOU EVER CARED AT ALL, YOU'D BE HERE-

YOU CAN HELP HER

I CAN'T- SHE'S-

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I DON'T WANT HER TO DIE

MAMA-

[sobbing and a thump]

Mama… 

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fourteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: Purple

"Fuck you. FUCK YOU"

"I hope you rot in hell. I hope there isn't a day where you don't regret your fucking actions and I hope you suffer for it."

"I hate you. I hate that you did this. I hate that you aren't here. I hate that I wasn't enough. I hate this. I hate you. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU-"

[sounds of sobbing, a frustrated scream and then loud crash]

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fifteenth Saved Message 

Sent: April 2018

From: 

"Thank you for calling Obelisk Funeral Services, I'm calling to confirm that full payment for the funeral of Orchid Grove has been handled by one, Blue "Killer Cobalt" Stick Figure, instead of the previously listed Purple Grove Stick Figure. All parties will be informed once the transaction goes through. A list of details will be emailed to all acting parties. If you have any questions, please call the call back number at the end of this message.

Obelisk Funeral Services appreciates your time, thank you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Sixteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: The Man 🕶️

"Hey Big Man, I got your message."

"Yeah, I get it yah know. A death in the family is always rough. Don't worry about nothin'. Take as many days off as you need."

"Heh, Cursors know it's been a minute for you."

"Just keep me updated on a time frame and we'll be right as rain."

"Take it easy buddy."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Seventeenth Saved Message

Sent: May 2018

From: Purple

"..."

"Thank you for paying for the funeral. I didn't see you there but…"

"I saw the flowers you put on her grave. They're lovely."

"..."

"I've made a decision. I'm leaving. The house and its belongings are yours to do as you want. Store it or sell it. It doesn't matter."

"I'm going to a place where you won't be able to find me. Do not try. I do not want to be found."

"..."

"If you care… just know I will be safe."

"Goodbye Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

End of Messages;

To listen to your messages, press 1

To send a message press 2

To change your personal options press 4

To disconnect press *

-

[1]

[be-good-be-safe-be-kind]

"it's the only way to heal"

op you are so right.

krista's involvement here seems to be overshadowed by the previous episode and overlooked by the end of the series where the krista in elliot's mind has some… interesting things to say (another point for another time), but it really is important. thank you for highlighting this.

the framing and lighting, as always, add so much to the series, even if it does not consciously register as doing so. earlier seasons and sessions with krista, pretty sure, had things centered or framed to include the background as focus (the curtains, the shadows of the room in elliot's 'cell,' etc.) and giving the viewers as well as the characters other things to focus on besides each other. here, with a blurry background and the characters in the 'margins,' the focus is on them; there is not really anything else to look at besides for elliot and krista.

elliot's desire to forget is understandable, and rather than tell him that, krista uses the opportunity to say that is an impossible ask. the memories will always be there, whether or not he can access them, and it sucks but it is the truth. even without the flashbacks and time skips, the pilot episode is full of allusions to elliot's background, even if things like flinching from ollie's touch or remaining at a distance from gideon initially registers as asocial and/or anxious.

"you will survive this, elliot" is a crucial conclusion. he has no reason to assume that to be true, especially after learning that he already made it this far in life with the knowledge of his abuse hidden from him. (arguably, they have been here before, at other points in the series and before we meet the characters in the pilot, but for now, we have elliot encountering this information for the first time and it fucking breaks him). to go back to working with mr. robot, to reconcile that this intrinsic part of himself is modeled after a father who he thought was nothing but a friend, is devastating.

mr. robot having this conversation with elliot at allsafe is another fantastic detail. yes, the office is their headquarters, their apartment is not exactly usable at the moment, but fucking allsafe. all safe. after a night following bits of his past around the city, seeing how his child self knew about and protected himself from the abuse, coming back to a dilapidated office that is all safe is… a lot, to say the least.

mr. robot acknowledging his own fear is another thing that gets overlooked; even to people without understanding of dissociative disorders and technical terms, mr. robot is clearly a protector, one who talks shit and gets shit done, without an ounce of doubt. to hear this guy repeatedly admit in this episode and the previous one that there are things he desperately needs to keep away from elliot, from himself, because living with it is too much, is a big deal. and to have him hand the keys back to elliot, instead of their back-and-forth like with the chess scenario, to give elliot the power and choice to ignore him in the aftermath of this, is monumental.

for all of elliot's planning and confidence in his technical abilities, for his meticulous compartmentalizing and pushing what he deems irrelevant to the side in order to get a job done, this is one thing he cannot ignore. and he still apologizes, even though there is no need to, because he perceives it that way. after years of research and work, trial and error, love and loss, he has to see everything through til the end, but he cannot.

"i wouldn't be me, and i wouldn't have you," besides for being a breakthrough, is a succinct summary of the series. elliot addresses mr. robot, yes, but in a way, he also addresses the 'friend' he has been keeping mostly in the loop since the start. "you're only in my head, we have to remember that" has not been forgotten, even as the voiceovers decreased in frequency and intensity as the series progressed. it also ties in to whiterose's plan and idea of using a machine to change reality rather than accept it; elliot learns to choose and accept his reality for what it is, as shitty as it is, rejecting the idea that a life dismissing the past is better than one including it.

whiterose would rather wipe the slate and toss it into a bin rather than accept it as a stepping stone towards her future. elliot and the rest of his system end the series with the hope of integrating their past into their future, as painful as it may be, because they understand the necessity.

Mr. Robot and Accepting Trauma Memories

In all my posts about how good Mr. Robot can be about depicting healing for those with DID, I never did highlight the last conversation Elliot has with his therapist in Season 4.

[Scene paraphrased, skipping comments about Elliot's father or the itch in the back of Elliot's head]

Upon his trauma memories returning Elliot is dissociated and barely holding it together. His therapist, who was with him for the revelation, gets him to safety (as always depicted by golden light in the show)

Krista's camera angle keeps Elliot in frame at all times while Elliot remains alone. She's reaching out and he's withdrawing. The show always uses camera angles and empty space to show isolation. All the empty space with subjects usually singled out in the 1-2 shots as a way to show their lack of connection.

Krista is on the very edge of the frame, meeting Elliot where he is. She's not trying to pull him out of his dissociation, she's just trying to reach out and offer him grounding and connection and comfort.

The thing being depicted here though is one of the most empathetic displays of trauma memories resurfacing. Elliot wants to forget again and Krista says that he never forgot.

In reality trauma memories, even the most buried ones, remain active and present within anyone suffering a dissociative disorder. The mind simply prevents access to that information as a means of self-preservation. When triggered or summoned it will activate the nervous system and create a recall response. In Elliot's case an "itch in the back of his mind"

At a cellular level, the body stores a memory of everything it has experienced. Sometimes this is evoked through touch, ranging from casual touch, to intimate touching, to massage and body-work. Sometimes a trigger can cause these body memories to break through. Sometimes the body memory just surfaces. Although there are times when a body memory coincides with an identifiable flashback, sometimes it may seem to happen ‘out of nowhere’. This can be extremely frightening and unnerving, especially if you don’t know this is what is happening. It does not mean you have ‘lost it’ or that you are crazy. Your mind is not playing a cruel trick on you, but rather is presenting you with memory or information that needs to be worked through so you can heal from the wounding you experienced. The phenomena of flashbacks and body memories can become more complex when you are not the only personality residing within your physical body— especially until you-all each have a greater sense of ‘self’ and ‘System’. If you have not yet reached a place of distinguishing between yourself and others in your System, you may have a consciousness of sensations that are the memory and/or current experience of another part. While this may seem strange or odd, it is not unheard of. Each part doing their own work, getting to know each other better, and getting strong senses of self- and System- is really what will get things to a more manageable place. - Got Parts ~ An Insiders Guide to Managing Life Successfully with Dissociative Identity Disorder (ATW)

When it comes to handling trauma memories the option to "just forget" does not truly exist. To not think about it does not prevent the mind from reacting when the trigger is touched. The memory will summon sense memory or emotional flashback and cause symptoms.

The only path to healing is to engage with those memories and work on integrating them. No matter how hard that may seem. Because to continue pushing it away is to allow the triggers to continue activating the nervous system and let the memory literally haunt the present day.

I'm glad that Krista got to say that.

Season 4 Episode 8 is all about accepting the weight of the trauma memory.

The final moment of the episode has Mr. Robot, who was created to protect the system and is modeled to look and act like Elliot's abuser, returns to talk to Elliot about what happened. Bathed in golden light and within their base of operations "Allsafe"

Elliot flinches at the mere thought of Mr. Robot. The living memory of his father and the one who held the memories of his abuse for so long. Fearing that he has failed in his duty as Elliot's protector, Mr. Robot speaks, desperate to fix it, knowing that now the memories have resurfaced he may not be able to any longer.

"The only reason I'm here is to make sure no one ever hurts you. That was supposed to be your father's job. But he failed. He was too weak. But you? You were strong. You fought back the only way you could. You brought me here to protect you from him."

"I tried to keep you safe and only show you the memories when the two of you were friends before..." he pauses and lets the implication hang in the air, "I thought I could store the truth so you'd never have to see it or feel it. Fact is I didn't wanna see it either. I made a terrible mistake. I was afraid. Afraid of what this would do to you. To us.

"This was never my secret to keep. And you deserved better than to live in darkness for so long. I'm so sorry. I failed you, too. I understand if you can't forgive me or you decide to shut me out for good. Just as long as you know that I am not your father. I never was."

"You're nothing like him. That's why I created you. You're the father I needed. Not the father I had."

"If I could have stopped him. If I could go back in time. Change everything that happened to you and make it all go away..."

"Then I wouldn't be me." Elliot finally turns to look at Mr. Robot, "And I wouldn't have you."

Mr Robot finally protectively holds Elliot and he breaks down in sobs, unsure if he has it in him to see their hacking plan through.

In this scene Mr. Robot accepts the truth that holding those memories from Elliot caused him so much pain over the years and that it was all he knew to do as a protector but faced with the reality of him accepting the pain he understands he was wrong.

The episode also features Elliot's child alter guiding him to evidence that they did fight back against their father as a child. They locked the door to their childhood bedroom and hid the key that Edward had access to. They threw themselves out of a window to prevent him hurting either him or their sister.

They were a child and sometimes the only way to fight back is to hide or to show the abuser that you'll not accept their abuse silently.

Both Mr. Robot and Krista praise the child who received the abuse for doing all they could to fight back, even when they felt so powerless. That it was not their fault. That the abuse was something they did everything they could to try and stop.

Mr. Robot even goes in and says that he wishes he could use a time machine to undo it and Elliot, finally accepting the core themes of the show, rejects the notion outright.

"I wouldn't be me. And I wouldn't have you."

Healthy acceptance of that which is and treasuring all that has been made with his life despite the trauma.

The main villain's plan is to use what is implied to be a time machine to reject the pain of this harsh reality in search of a better one. She would see suffering and turmoil in the present to bring about a better history. She is so fixated on reclaiming the world she feels she was owed that she cannot accept the reality she finds herself in.

Elliot goes dormant after his conversation with Mr. Robot and he takes over for the big hacking plan. During the finale of the "Fsociety" portion of the plot, Elliot finally resurfaces when Whiterose promises that her plot (implied heavily to be a time machine) can bring back a loved one that was murdered earlier in the show. When confronted with the choice between pressing forward with the pain of loss or retreating into delusion and rejection of reality; Elliot chooses to resurface.

Cementing the theme and moral firmly. It is better to accept the past and integrate it into your future than to live in rejection. Even if it hurts.

It's the only way to heal.