#and then next thing you know your going to jail because you shot some guy named Jared

[doomed-to-gloom]

What the fuck do you do if a vampire is having you arrested for attempted murder because you somehow fucked up trying to kill it and you can't exactly get proof they're a vampire so you just kinda look like a guy who was planning a whole murder on some recluse in your area

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[star2fishmeg]

ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ 'ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

[30.2k] Pairing | Jack Hughes x afab!reader Summary | how does one guy go from wanting everything to do with someone, to nothing at all? Jack didn’t know what he wanted until he started losing to Trevor, but maybe that was a good thing. Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to lovers, angst, jealousy, fluff, swearing, grumpy x sunshine-ish, underage drinking, mention of mildly-dysfunctional family, hickeys, backshots, mild choking, masturbation implication, praise kink, hair pulling, making out, protected p in v, pet names (angel, sweetheart) Authors Note | this is my first Jack fic please bear with🫶. Another slow burn, sorry. This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ the spins - mac miller [small worlds masterlist]

Jack's heart stopped and he gulped. Never in his thirteen years of living had he come face to face with someone whose stare was more bone-shaking than his older brother, Quinn's. He'd never felt apprehensive about someone else, hockey eliminated that the moment he learnt to skate as a small child. Y/n L/n had been in every class of his since he could remember. In the frozen suburbs of Toronto, she lived a few houses away from his, took the same bus and could only recall two occasions where he’d seen her smile: with her friends at lunch and watching guys like him suffer misfortune. Then they were project partners for their literature class, and neither had been too pleased with the decision. 

Jack slid into the empty seat next to her with a grin smeared across his face and a chewed pen between his fingers. His nerves hadn't dissipated as he had hoped, the neat formatting of her notes and their quality only made his heart pound harder. Her face didn't move but her eyes scanned his face, finishing with a stone gaze into his pretty, blue eyes. That was one thing she had to give him, his eyes were beautiful, vibrant and lined with long, thick lashes that she wished she had. 

“Do you like literature, y/n?” he asked. He had far too much confidence in himself, an ego some would say. He was used to people just agreeing and following him like a prince, bowing at his words. The girls would fawn and twirl their hair, the guys dying to hang out with him. Jack was popular because he was charming, friendly and social. But he was also a teenage boy, so the world was also his territory, and everyone was just in it. 

“Yes.” She squinted cautiously, grip on her pen tightening. 

���Perfect! How about you do the parts you're good at, and I do the speaking? Does that sound good?” 

“Sounds like a ‘get out of jail free card’, Jack. We're splitting it fifty-fifty. Drop it and let's start brainstorming.” She spat, opening his notebook for him and refusing to drop her glare.

He groaned, slamming his head onto the desk. “What do you mean ‘drop it’? Drop what? My pants? Because I didn't know you were that kinda gal-” 

“-The act, Mr. Eighty-Percent Average Score. I want a good grade and you're a hockey player, you need good grades, or you'll be benched, right?” She deadpanned and started jotting down ideas in her notebook. Sometimes having a troublesome brother in hockey had benefits, but most of the time it didn’t. 

“How did you…huh? How do you know that? Did Quinn tell you that? That little rat-” he jolted when her palm slapped the back of his head, not hard but enough to get him to shut up. 

“What was that for? All right Sunshine, what is your problem?”

Her hand grabbed the collar of his burgundy hoodie, a fire burning in her eyes as she seethed. “My problem is some of us don't have set futures and need school, Hughes. So shut up, do as you're told and let's get this project over with so we can both go back to enjoying our lives. And get this idea that you call the shots here just because you're popular out of your head. You're no more special than anyone else while at school." 

She let go and leant back, returning to her notes as if nothing had happened. Jack didn't adjust his collar. He didn't laugh, cry or yell. His cheeks burned pink with wide eyes, and his stomach doing flips. If he could replay that moment again, he would. No one had spoken to him like that before, not even his family. She was out for his blood. Some of his friends would call her unpleasant, others would disagree and say that Jack was lucky to be partnered with someone as cool as her, someone who didn’t take shit from people and got things done. They’d grown up in the same schools, of course, he’d heard the stories about y/n being voted ‘most fearless’ because she wasn’t afraid of having a backbone or watched her hit another girl because she stole her friend’s juice box. She wasn’t unpleasant, Jack would’ve done the same, and that’s why he wasn't even angry, but his respect for her peaked and intrigue bursting at its seams. But the guilt lingered. His first ever proper interaction, conversation with just the two of them (aside from small talk over the years) and he may have just fucked everything up when they were supposed to get along and cooperate. But why did he feel guilty. 

“Do you hate me?” he blurted out quietly, watching her pause mid-sentence. If she was out for his blood, what did he do that was so bad? Or what had she heard?

“No,” she turned her head to face him, “I have no reason to hate you…yet. You're just annoying and stupid if you think I’ll let you sit back while I do this alone. We're doing our presentation on symbolism, by the way.”

“Am not, control freak,” he grumbled, muscles relaxing at the fact he wasn't rejected, God forbid he was rejected by someone cool, that would be embarrassing. He pulled his seat in and started copying the notes she'd scribbled for him, “but yes ma'am.”

 *

Maybe some people aren’t meant to be. Not even as friends. After almost getting choked on Monday, Jack hadn’t learnt much from his experience. On Tuesday he spilt water over y/n’s notes, and while he profusely apologised, he was punished with silent treatment and no guidance on their project. Wednesday, she had sought him out over lunch, hoping to retrieve the notes he borrowed but as she found him at his locker, he slammed the door into her face on accident and the only thing he could do after that was slam his head into the wall, repeating ‘idiot’ to himself. But Thursday was the worst. The winters were vicious in Toronto, so attempting to navigate the ice was a task. Fortunately, the school set grit over the concrete, but over time the snow would deflate into sludge as everyone trampled over it. Y/n had been carefully making her way to the bus, trying to work with the crowd and not slip in front of everyone. Jack was late, in too much of a panic to be thoughtful. He just didn’t want to be late for hockey practice. Without looking, he’d stormed through the crowds and shoved past y/n, but he tripped and took her down with him, the pair tumbling into the sludge, soaking wet and cold through their clothes. When Jack realised who it was screaming ‘asshole!’ at him shooting daggers into his soul, he learned that his coach was, in fact, not the scariest person he knew.

Since Monday, the week was supposed to be easy after processing the partnerships, yet on Friday, y/n still found herself in her seat doing more than fifty per cent of the research while Jack talked endlessly to his friend across the classroom, laughing at YouTube references and memes that only thirteen-year-old-boys would find funny. She knew Jack was doing it on purpose, he was more than capable of contributing, she’d seen his previous presentations and other projects. Was it her? She wondered if she’d been too aggressive, too moody with him to the extent that she was just off-putting or that he found it amusing. Perhaps if she’d been a bit kinder, they would be getting along like the rest of their class, laughing and chatting with each other instead of him flinging rubber bands at his friends while she stuck her nose in her notebook, worrying about how she’d get all the work done solo (because she wasn’t holding out for hope). Truth be told, she had as much passion as a night-shift worker, not because of Jack, but who liked doing graded presentations at the start of the school year?

“Will you please turn around and shut up?” she whined, tugging on his hoodie sleeve with a tired pain in her voice, “You’re so rowdy.”

Giggling, Jack turned around in his seat, satisfied with the torment he’d caused his friends and with a wide grin. He’d taken time to reflect on their interactions, even asking Quinn what he’d do to redeem himself (after calling him the grumpiest man alive). He did come across as arrogant, he admitted to that. He wasn’t expecting her to know about the school and hockey relationship and really wasn’t expecting to be choked by his collar and humbled publicly. That’s why he decided he liked her; she was a cool girl in his world who didn’t care about who he was. He didn’t know any girls like y/n, not that she wasn’t like other girls, but other girls he surrounded himself with didn’t hiss in his face and spit his name like it was poison in her mouth.

“Sorry, Sunshine,” he saluted, continuing his part of the project in an awkward silence. Jack’s knees bounced, the air between the pair so quiet he could hear his breathing echoing in his ears, mouth itching to talk about anything but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing again. He watched her from the corner of his eye, even in a neutral state she looked jarred, lips in a permanent downward fall. His friends called it a ‘resting bitch face’, but she had every reason to be a bitch to him, after all, he had pretty much embarrassed and driven her up the wall all week. He sighed, turning his attention back onto the text she chose to study, annotating parts he thought would suit the instruction she’d given him. 

“I’m sorry for choking you. And snapping at you.” He whipped his head around in surprise, her eyes hadn’t moved from her notes, but her tone was soft, the softest she’d sounded to his memory. She peered over to him apprehensively, almost shocked at his silence.

He blinked twice, out of the two of them it should have been him apologising first. His lips tugged into a small smile, “I deserved it. I’m sorry for being an ass and hitting you with my locker, and knocking you in sludge and overall, just being annoying. You have every right to hate me.”

Sitting up straight, y/n’s gaze softened for the first time, “Jack, I don’t hate you. For the sake of this project, how about we start over?” she held her hand out, “Pleasure to be working with you, Rowdy. Let’s do this fifty-fifty and that way we both benefit.”

He shook her hand, his almost engulfing hers, but he thought it was cute, “You too, Sunshine. So, uh…how are we gonna do this? Because we’re kinda slacking on all grounds. Like, we know each other and where we live, and that we take the same bus, yeah, but like…not anything, uh, personal like your favourite colour.” 

“Well, my favourite colour is red, I like hot chocolate with marshmallows and my favourite hockey team is the Maple Leafs.” She said, doing her best to start some sort of icebreaker to at least make conversation easier. They should have done this from the start like others would have but he was arrogant, and she was up tight. Just because you’ve grown up in the same proximity as someone doesn’t always make you friends.

Jack’s eyes lit up, “No way! My favourite hockey team are the Leafs too! Lemme think…uh…my favourite meal is steak; I love watching movies and my dream is to make it to the NHL.” 

“Cool. That’s a lot of weight to carry,” he nodded enthusiastically at her, “but you’re the kinda guy who could, Hughes. Anyway, what have you done for this shitty project?” she peeked at his notebook, brushing over the fact Jack was grinning like an idiot at his breakthrough. It was a start, but at least she wasn’t insulting him anymore and they were talking with their walls down, no weapons. He opened his mouth but immediately closed it, scratching the back of his neck. Her notes were always so direct and neat and his were a mess, not even he could understand what he was saying half the time.

“What the hell am I reading, Jack?” her smile dropped, and her deadpan humiliated him alone. He sunk into his chair, he did his best, he really had, but unlike in hockey, the school was a flow he just couldn’t enter. “We have a lot of work to do. Hope you’re free over lunch next week.” 

“Or we could do it at my house. Do you wanna come over?” 

“Not really,” she said flatly, looking him in the eye. 

“Please, there’s too much happening at school and doing it at my house - or yours - would be so much better. Think about it, I won’t get distracted~” 

She chewed her cheek, watching his toothy grin widen. If he weren’t a charmer she would’ve made her decision more quickly, but Jack had this effect to him where it was almost impossible to resist, whether you liked him or not. He had a point, in his home he wouldn't be hollering across the room or fidgeting in his seat. Anyway, it would be a good opportunity for them to bond. 

She sighed, and hung her head, “Fiiiine. Are Sundays, okay?”

He nodded urgently, perhaps more excited than he should have been, but getting her to give in and try to hang out outside school felt like a win. He just wanted to know if her walls were always enforced up high or if it was a school thing.

 *

The first Sunday crept quicker than she would have liked. Although the Hughes' house looked no different than hers, the dahlias in the front garden were twice as pretty, a small part of her hoped the frost would never hit them, reflecting the joyful souls of the Hughes family. Y/n stood on the doorstep, rucksack slung on her shoulder and rollerblades in her hand. When Jack had told her to bring them, she asked why but in typical Jack manner, his answer was vague, ‘Please just bring them!’, but she listened anyway, dreading what kind of ideas were running through his mind when they were supposed to be working on their project. After all, the faster they submitted it, the sooner they could return to their lives.

She lost track of how long she’d been standing there, he probably thought she’d ditched him by how long she’d been mustering up the nerves to knock but the reality of the situation, her reality, she was processing how there was no muffled noise coming from behind the door.

For a home of five, it was as quiet as a zen garden. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised; most families were quiet. She never had to look where she was going on her way home, she always heard her family before she saw them, whether outside the front door or somewhere in the house. The yelling never stopped, so standing outside Jack’s house took the weight off her chest and she could feel the September breeze in her hair.

She knocked timidly, listening to footsteps barrel through the house from the other side and a muffled ‘Quinn don’t you dare answer that!’ however when the door opened it wasn’t Jack’s excited, puppy-like self. She’d never looked at him properly, but y/n blinked twice at Quinn standing before her. He was a lot better looking than Jack made out, the opposite of Jack: dark hair, taller, broad shoulders and his eyes were a duller blue compared to Jack’s vibrant ones. He smiled kindly as Jack shoved past him, shooing him out of the way and muttering at him to leave them alone.

“I told you not to answer! I had it!” Jack whined at his older brother, pushing him to the side.

“I didn’t know you were inviting your girlfriend over, why didn’t you just say so?” Quinn teased, letting Jack move him. To him, seeing Jack so ecstatic over a girl wasn’t new, Jack had had short-lived girlfriends since he was eleven, not understanding the difference between validating attention and love yet but y/n with the hard gaze was the first girl he invited into his home. The kind of girl Quinn least expected since she didn’t seem happy to be in their home, unfazed by Jack’s playful behaviour and glint in his eye. That was new and part of him felt old seeing his little brother grow up so fast.

“She’s not my girlfriend, assface!” Jack growled, his face heating up.

“Ugh, as if.” She scoffed at the same time before fully processing the smirk on Quinn’s face. Jack girlfriend? Is that how it looked to others? A boy and a girl hanging out as children was fine but the moment, they hit their teens it meant they were all over each other. She imagined what it would be like if she were to be his girlfriend, until she caught herself in the act, what kind of demon possessed her even to have such a fleeting thought? Curiosity? Or maybe it would be funny seeing the reactions of others, seeing him with someone they least expected. Y/n’s breath hitched, heat rising to her cheeks but less noticeably than rosy red Jack who started swatting Quinn.

“Ignore him, y/n, let’s go do this project.” He emphasised to his brother.

Jack gently took her by the sleeve, pulling her into his hallway and impatiently waiting for her to slip her shoes off and leave her rollerblades before leading her upstairs.  She glanced behind her, giving Quinn a shy wave which he returned as Jack led her further, weaving around stray hockey gloves and shoes on the stairs and reappearing into a simple hallway. The layout couldn’t have been more unfamiliar to her home, the walls were highly decorated with family photos, more of the boys than anyone else. Quinn, Jack and Luke, the youngest, clad in mostly hockey gear but the occasional casual photo, some even of them piled on top of each other. The landing was nothing special, a single strip with one bedroom facing the street, one next to the stairs with another opposite and the master facing into the garden, bathrooms in between.

Jack pointed to the room next to the stairs, “that’s Quinn’s room,” then to the room at the back of the house, “that’s my parents,” then to the front, “that’s Lukey’s,” and eventually ushered her to the room opposite Quinn’s, opening the door and giving her a grand reveal, “and this is mine!”

Y/n shuffled in, taking in the personality of the room. It wasn’t big, nor a box room but the grey walls made it feel smaller than it was. A double bed pushed against the wall, a desk next to it and opposite those were a chest of drawers and a wardrobe crammed snugly. It was the kind of room that someone who didn’t spend a lot of time in would have, the only elements saving it from a show home were the hockey posters and awards on the walls and surfaces, a hockey helmet on top of the wardrobe with gloves and skates scattered under the bed. But the one part that stuck out the most while she moseyed around, was the framed photo on his desk. A recent picture of him and his brothers together, void of smiles and Jack wearing the burgundy coat the day he knocked her into sludge, Quinn in the grey hoodie she just saw him in and Luke in, what she assumed, some sort of blue university fleece with an ‘M’ on the chest. She stifled a chuckle, only Jack would wear full burgundy, but it was no better than the photo of her, her younger brother and her dad at her cousin's wedding, all three of them miserable and her dad nursing a hangover (pre-drinks with the boys before the wedding was not his and the relative’s greatest idea for some of their ages). But this photo of Jack had something endearing to it, and proof that he wasn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time.

Jack crept behind her, peeking over her shoulder and speaking quietly next to her ear, “We all got a copy of that one. It’s also on the stairs. Mum thinks it’s hilarious because before it was taken, Dad had us shovelling snow for thirty minutes before a two-hour evening hockey practice.”

It hadn’t occurred to her how he felt the need to stand so close to her until then, his voice practically sinking into her skin as if she were wearing headphones rather than listening to him through a speaker. It wasn’t that she hated it, it was just…new. He wasn’t smirking, his hands were in his jean’s pockets and the way his popular-kid demeanour plummeted when talking about his brothers was like she had met an entirely different person. It’s crazy how getting someone in a different environment can lower their mask. It made him loveable and the longer they stood there, close together, the less she hated the idea of being around him. It was almost comforting to share family stories, the information that anyone who hadn’t seen the photo wouldn’t know.

She nodded, her rucksack strap dropping from her shoulder and into her hand as she turned to him, looking up at his smiling face. Okay, he was a lot taller up close, or well to her at least, and he seemed to enjoy looking at her face as she swore his eyes had a sparkle in them.

“Where do you want me to sit?” she asked, casually.

For a second he thought he saw her crack. She was the only person who’d seen the photo, he’d usually put it away for safety when his friends came over since a couple of them had a thing for pillow fights at three in the morning. Letting her into his world and sharing his secrets would surely get her out of her shell, he was convinced that if he dropped his mask, she’d drop hers. He imagined what that would be like as she turned to him, and what it would be like if she looked in his eyes brightly all the time, shamelessly in the school hallways without anyone to ruin it. But her voice jolted him like he had been shaken by its shoulders and the real world was back to ground him, “Uh- right- project, you can take the desk I’ll sit on my bed. What, uh, time do you need to be home…by the…way?”

She sat on his office chair and set up her stationary, not looking at him when she replied,

“Probably seven at the latest, usually when dinner is but I can leave whenever you want me to. I’m just a few houses away.”

He grinned. That gave him a perfect amount of time to begin his plan if they didn’t spend the whole day on the project, which was likely considering his attention span went haywire in her presence. He couldn’t explain why, only that there was something about her gloom had him infatuated. Partnered projects weren’t for everyone, he knew that. He loved them, the bouncing, the company, getting away with not doing anything because he did all the talking but he also knew some people despised them entirely because of people like him, slackers, yappers, people who didn’t view them as real assessments because they weren’t pen and paper. Jack was the first and y/n was the latter, but for some reason, he wanted to be bossed about, wanted to work and perhaps see things from her world, hear her talk more.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, maybe if he showed her to loosen up, she wouldn’t get stressed over it but if he tightened up, he could learn a skill or two and they’d find a balance.

Usually after two hours of unbroken work focus, Jack would groan in despair out of restlessness and boredom, but in the two hours that passed, both parties had completed a lot. They’d managed to negotiate roles, y/n would endure the tedious theory research elements while Jack focused on analysing and piecing together their text passage and the theories she’d found. It wasn’t fun, but they’d caught up with the rest of their class and were safe, and on track. She wouldn’t have to work into the night, and he wouldn’t have to risk skipping his social life. Jack had to admit, and he couldn’t lie, that working with her, even in silence, wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. They chatted here and there about life when they let their brains rest, she didn’t insult him, and he didn’t annoy her. They found a balance, and he’d learnt a bit more about y/n, like how she couldn’t ice skate but could rollerblade, how she forgot to blink when in a hyperfocus or that she didn’t like talking too much because she’s worried, she’d overshare and weird people out. Which did hit him in the gut when she casually expressed it, because he didn’t think anyone should hold themselves back from being true to themselves.

With his notebook and pens abandoned on his bedsheets, he sat crossed-legged, watching her scribble down quick notes from a website, “So, you used to talk a lot but since your friends just…never reacted or made snarky comments, you just thought to reign it in? What do you talk about?”

“Yup. Can be a yapper in the right environment, but now all we talk about is school, the news or things they’re into. They don’t even try to give context to those who have no idea what’s going on. It’s not a big deal though, most of them are going to a different high school than me so I’ll make new friends.” She explained with a sigh, finishing her notes and swivelling in his chair to face him. Talking to him as if they were friends felt refreshing, she only got to talk to one or two people this way, and those were the two friends going to the same high school as her. Neighbours would say that she and Jack should’ve been friends from toddlers since they’d grown up together on the same street, same kindergarten, same elementary and now coming to the last year of the same middle school but Jack was an outdoors kid always participating in some sort of sport with the other kids, y/n preferred the indoors, quietly finding hobbies and watching from the window. The only reason they’d recognised each other in elementary school was because Ellen had once dropped by to gift her mum, flowers as a thank you for something, and Jack happened to be with her, y/n locking eyes with him as she was walking through the house.

“Well, you can always talk to me, I’ll be your friend. We’ve known of each other for years, our mums help each other garden for God’s sake so we’re not completely strangers…” he fiddled with the chewed pen in his lap, “besides, I have two brothers and some…unique friends, nothing you do or say could weird me out.”

She sat in silence, watching him struggle to make eye contact with her for the first time like he was nervous about what she would say. He was probably expecting her to chew him up, brush him off but he had a point. They had been neighbours their whole lives, and if she played outside more, they would have been better acquainted. But her middle school friendships were fickle, and immature, in their eyes, she was the weird kid and only because her interests differed slightly, and more people gravitated towards her, girls and boys alike. And when that happens in a friend group of eleven to fourteen-year-olds, you’re the odd one out, people get jealous and there’s only so much artificial solidarity to go around sometimes. So, she changed and tried to scare people away so she could fit in again and survive and it worked. Until Jack Hughes wiggled his way into the picture.

Why is Jack talking to you? You know I like him. 

That’s so unfair!

Befriending your friend's crush? Low y/n, so low.

“I appreciate your kindness, but that’s a terrible idea.” She deadpanned, leaning back in the chair, a pang of regret striking through her upon seeing his shoulders slump.

He looked up with confusion written on his face, “What, why?”

“Because you’re Jack Hughes. Popular, charming Jack Hughes who everybody wants to be friends with. And I’m miserable y/n, my friends would throw me to the curb if I started hanging out with you suddenly. Actually, they would accuse me of betraying them and think something is going on between us. Petty shit.”

“But I like miserable y/n, you’re not even miserable. But why would it be a betrayal? Unless your friends got a crush or something-” the pieces clicked in his head, “-oh. I see. Well, think of it positively, would you rather have a group of friends who make you have to pretend to be miserable or have one friend who actually makes you miserable?”

She tried so hard to suppress a giggle but seeing him gesture to himself when making humour of the conversation made it impossible and she let the giggle out. Only Jack could say that, and it be funny, as self-deprecating as the joke was, it came from a good place. Jack’s head however emptied, and his chest exploded, a giddy feeling jerking his nerves hearing her giggle because of him (and not because he was getting punished or dumped in the hallway). He didn’t fuss over it, he didn’t want her to stop because he’d brought her guard down, so he giggled with her.

“I guess I would rather have one friend that makes me miserable.” 

“Correct answer!” he mused, all project work was abandoned, and it was clear to them both that they were done for the day. “Well, now we’re friends, do you wanna go play street hockey? That’s why I asked you to bring rollerblades, we’re gonna hang out.”

“So, doing the project was just a front for getting me to hang out with you?” she began to pack her stationary into her rucksack while he pushed his onto the floor. He’d clear it up later if he remembered.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded proudly, “I thought that if we hung out, we could get to know each other better, do something fun.”

He was almost falling off his bed in excitement, waiting for her to agree and play with him. Was he this eager with everyone? No one had ever been that desperate to be friends with her, most people weren’t that desperate. She opened her mouth to decline, but he’d spent the past two hours forcing himself to focus on their schoolwork, do as he was told, and listen to her intently even though she knew he was getting restless and bored, she owed him at least an hour of her time.

“Okay, but only for a little bit. I’m not great like you so go easy.” A smile was all it took for Jack to leap up, take her by the sleeve, drag her through his bedroom door (almost knocking Luke over in the process) and into his hall again. 

*

What was supposed to be just an hour, so she told herself, turned out to be three hours of non-stop street hockey. Two beaten-up goals outside his house and two laughing teenagers clad in gloves and rollerblades, hockey sticks hitting each other for the plastic ball that dragged and rattled across the concrete. Neither had been keeping track of the time, they were too engrossed in trying to beat each other, especially y/n, who forced Jack to go easy on her just so she could at least have a chance. 

It wasn’t often she got to participate in something like street hockey with someone, a lot of her social life was talking and not a lot of experiencing. She didn’t even hang out with her brother like the Hughes boys did, but her brother was far more interested in golf or playing FIFA with his friends or causing trouble at school. When they were younger, she and her brother used to spend hours playing basketball in the garden, so much so that eventually the hoop fell off and that was the end of it. Or they used to play video games together, getting so competitive in Wii Sports that her brother would start crying if he lost. Those were ephemeral days stuck in a memory loop, but playing hockey with Jack freed the same adrenaline rush that made the world feel brighter and hopeful like living for yourself was worth it.

She closed in on Jack’s goal, readying herself to take the shot, sheer confidence across her face until he swooped in and blocked the shot, stealing the ball from her possession and skating towards the other end.

“Jaaack,” she groaned, “you’re such a dick, I almost had that!”

His triumphant laughter echoed through the neighbourhood as he closed in on her goal, 

“You don’t sound so happy, Sunshine, why don’t you come to show me who’s the boss, huh?”

She clicked her tongue playfully, getting a burst of energy as she approached Jack. She could have knocked him out of the way, blocked his shot, or broken any of the standard rules but she was having the time of her life and Jack hadn’t stopped smiling since she agreed. Y/n tossed her stick to the side, dropped her gloves and grabbed the back of his hoodie, pulling herself closer to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, sending them both crashing to the floor, equipment scattered but both players laughing and playfighting, rolling and wrestling until their stomachs ached from laughter. 

At some point in their roughing, y/n’s fist hit Jack square on the cheekbone, hard. Sitting up straight, legs tangled, they stared at each other like they’d seen ghosts, her heart stopping in her chest. She didn’t mean to hit him, not for real, but on reflex she unclenched her fist and held his face in her hands with a delicate touch as if he were glass, her fingers holding his jaw as she inspected his cheekbone for any bleeding. She may have thought nothing of it, just protocol for when someone got hurt, but Jack’s cheeks blazed, hands becoming clammy, and he thought he was going to lose his breath at how gentle she was with him. If getting injured was all it took for her to look at him with soft eyes and obtain all her attention like a prize, he should’ve broken his legs a while ago. His world paused, the sounds of nature and cars faded out into a silence and his heart skipped eight beats at once. He’d had girlfriends, but he’d never had skin contact with one. Never held a girl’s hand before and never had his face held by one. She was like a drug, the second she cradled his thumping face, he never wanted her to let go. Maybe it was because he liked the attention because it was new and exciting or maybe the endorphins rushing through him altered his state of mind too much and confused the difference between enjoying her touch and pain relief.

“I’m okay,” he said just above a whisper with a fond look, “it’ll just bruise at most.”

She nodded, letting him reassure her before a grin crawled onto her face, arm snaking around his neck and held him in a headlock, grinding her knuckles mildly into his head and ruffling his hair. Even though he wished on all his lucky stars that the moment would never end, getting noogies from her was just as euphoric if it meant her giggles gave him just as much of a bliss escape as the scratching of ice skates did in hockey. 

“If you say so, Wack Hughes.” She rolled off and sat on the concrete opposite him, catching her breath, both bodies panting with flushed, chilly cheeks and undoubtedly bruises and grazes on their limbs. That’s what they got for not looking properly for knee and elbow pads.

“Can I have your number?” the words erupted a lot quicker than he expected them to, he borderline felt like he came across as a desperate man at a bar hoping to strike gold, “So, uh, we can text when to meet up…for the project and stuff…yeah.” 

She sighed dramatically, “If I really have to.” 

In all instances, all universes and every other life after his current, Jack wished the project would never end. He was just beginning to get somewhere with forming a liberating friendship where he was just Jack, the kid from class.   

* 

Jack had been right, but he wished it had been a cut because the bruise over his cheek was diabolical. A beautiful purple and blue bruise next to his eye, not quite a black eye but the cheekbone was close enough. Quinn and Luke teased him relentlessly the Monday morning over breakfast, even though the middle Hughes explained it was an accident while playfighting and not because he pissed her off. 

School was worse. At first, his friends taunted him about it, and how the ‘pretty boy wasn’t so pretty anymore’. Jack was just relieved that nobody asked him how he got it, they all assumed it was hockey and he would have too if he was them. At least a bruise wasn’t as embarrassing as when he broke his leg but there’s only so much teasing you can take before it starts becoming boring, and all week he had heard the same comments and the same giggling. He didn’t blame y/n, she didn’t do it on purpose but her packing a punch was not on his twenty-fifteen bingo card. 

Sunday rolled around again, Jack and y/n only had a week left until their project was due and while y/n had her hand fisting her hair, the words on her screen blending and almost sending her into cardiac arrest, Jack had zoned out long ago. Silence filled the Hughes’ dining room, both bodies void of willpower as they entered hour three of their study. On the bright side, they were over halfway done, opting to pull the presentation aesthetics together last as that was the easy part. The hardest part was trying to condense twenty-five slides into ten at most.  

Luke was home with them, keeping out of their way but giving them a glance as he meandered into the kitchen for a snack. He may have been twelve and starting to enter his pre-teen years of figuring himself and the world out, but what he did know was that the house was quieter on Sundays. That’s how he knew y/n was over. He stood quietly in the kitchen, peering over at his brother and y/n in deep thought from the breakfast bar, wondering how someone had tamed Jack within two weeks. Yes, they spent almost every day together so the chance of them getting to know each other better that way wasn’t off the table, and the quality of friendship isn’t determined by how long you’ve known someone. He’d never seen Jack sit so still, he wasn’t even chewing on his pen, just staring at his laptop screen and notebook while he feared y/n might yank her hair from her scalp if she gripped it any tighter. Luke pulled two glasses from the cabinet, filled them with water, and set them in front of the two. He then disappeared back into the kitchen and rummaged through the cookie jar before returning and placing them on the dark wood next to the water. Y/n’s hand fell from her hair and raised her head to meet a smiling Luke. They’d never spoken, but he liked it when she came over, especially when he’d watched her tackle Jack to the ground a week prior, of course.  

“Thanks, Luke. You really didn’t have to.” Y/n’s voice suddenly filled the room and pulled Jack out of his daze, his attention immediately landing on the glass of water and cookie.  

“It’s the least I could do for someone who can keep Jack on his leash.” Luke chuckled lightly, making his way back into the living room.  

Jack waited until he left to whip around to her, making her flinch at the speed, “You’re friends with my little brother easily but not me? I’m taking that as an offence.”  

“He didn’t tell me to do the entire project by myself while he got to do the easy part.” She jested, poking her finger into his chest. Call them Punch and Judy with the way they bickered. “He also didn’t pull me into sludge.” 

He wrapped his fingers around her hand, holding it gently as he rolled his eyes, “Okay, well, fair enough. At least it was Luke.” 

“Why? Scared I’ll fall hopelessly in love with Quinn and his dark curls and brooding personality,” she leant forward with a smirk, watching Jack’s eyebrows knit. She’d done it, found his button to press and she loved every ounce of adrenaline that raged through her, “that’ll I’ll hang out with him instead?” 

His tongue poked his cheek, their faces inches away and for once it was him sulking while she taunted him. Yet, the grip he had over her hand stayed loose, even when she continued to prod him, but he knew she could feel how sweaty his palms were from the panic that rattled him, “Yes! Kinda, maybe! I don’t know!”  

She stopped, her smirk dropping and his breathing becoming heavy. Their gazes met as she licked her lips, their faces were so much closer than she had thought, and a warmth spread up the back of her neck. They said nothing, their eyes searching each other for answers to unspecified questions. His bruise had healed better, it wasn’t a deep purple anymore and a yellow tint started peeking through, although she was sorry for hitting him, there was a small, amusing element to the story. She lowered her hand, but he didn’t let go. Never had she expected Jack to feel in competition with his brothers over anything but hockey, but his heart hammered in his chest the longer their stares lingered, terrified for the worst-case scenario.

“Wait, for real? You think I would do that?” Jack nodded shakily, chewing the inside of his cheek. It was ridiculous, his hormones getting mixed up and fluctuating over a girl he’d only started being real friends with, but he felt like they’d known each other longer by how thin the air felt between them. Was that allowed? Was there a rule about being friends with someone? If so, he yearned to break it, after all, he’d been friends with some guys for three years and knew nothing about them, barely hanging out with them outside school. “If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t.”

“It’s not Quinn specifically, I don’t know, like, we just started being friends and like, ugh, I don’t know.” He truly couldn’t describe the nagging feeling of a thorn that stabbed him in the side, he’d never felt it before, but he hated it. She was his friend and only his, Quinn and Luke weren’t allowed to swoop her away. Y/n was just his friend, no more sharing friends between them, they could keep that to hockey but not school. He’d do anything to keep it that way, even if it meant brawling with his brothers like when they were kids or even other kids at school. He just wanted to freely be friends with someone on his own, sick of being surrounded by friends who had their own, separate friend they could run to, rely on, cry, laugh with, and escape to their own isolated paradise with. He wanted a person. 

With a gentle nod, she noticed the warmth engulfing her hand. They peered down at their laps, pulling their hands away quickly and awkwardly finding chewed pens and hoodie strings. The first time he’d held a girl's hand, and it was because she was riling him up, and she’d never had a boy hold her hand before so the heat in her neck flushed to her face.  

“Sooo,” Jack started, the tension crushing him, “what do you like to do for fun? You already know I play hockey and we did that last week; we should try something of yours today.” 

Her muscles relaxed and she pondered. What did she do for fun? It was one of those moments where suddenly she forgot everything about herself and became the most boring person alive, nothing coming to mind. She didn’t consider herself nearly as exciting as Jack. She wasn’t an athlete, or an entrepreneur, and didn’t do any thrilling things over the summers. How are you supposed to sell yourself when you just enjoy staying at home and chilling? 

“Uh…I dunno. I like doing origami, I guess. Not really as intense as street hockey but I find it relaxing.” She ripped out a blank page of her notebook, tearing it neatly into a square and effortlessly folding the corners and sides. He was mesmerised, she made it look easy and Jack convinced himself that he could do it. Pulling the head out, she placed a swan in front of him. To create what sat in front of him more than muscle memory, it was time and patience. “For you. I’ll teach you step by step.” 

She tore out two more pages into squares, giving one to him, “Fold the paper diagonally to create the centre line, then unfold,” she demonstrated as she spoke, allowing him time to catch up, “refold the sides to the centre line and flip the paper over, doing the same as we just did. You should have a skinny kite shape. Bring the bottom corner to the top, middle corner and fold the tip of the bottom corner we just folded, down to halfway.”

Jack’s tongue poked out from his lips, his brows knitted as he concentrated hard, watching her fingers move intensely and carefully copying. His folding wasn’t as neat as hers, but he understood what she was showing and he hadn’t completely screwed it up yet, but he was a lot more heavy-handed than she was, too used to using all his strength rather than none of it at all. 

“Good boy, you’re getting it. Okay, now fold what you have in half, but outwards, away from you, not inwards, like this,” she folded the paper as instructed, “and gently pull the neck up and head out. See, a simple swan.” 

Jack’s face brightened, his lips twitching into a smile as he pulled the head out of his - messily folded - origami swan. He knew she’d gone easy on him, and he was frankly grateful that she hadn’t tried to teach him something overly complex because he did not want to deal with Ellen yelling at him to pipe down in front of y/n. Y/n didn’t need that, didn’t need to see or hear that. Jack may not have been an empath by any means and may not be the kind of guy to psychoanalyse people but Quinn had taught him to think carefully before he asked questions. Of course, he wondered why y/n never asked if he wanted to go to her house instead, but when he talked with Jim about it, he said there’s usually a reason, and sometimes people don’t want to talk about that and would prefer to just accept the offer, and that by offering up their home could be one of the nicest things he’s done for her. 

Y/n set her swan in front of him, his hands delicately inspecting the precision as if it belonged in a museum, “How can you do this so quickly and neatly? What else can you make?” 

“Practice, I can make cranes, frogs, bats, foxes, stars.” She giggled, watching him compare the two swans and setting them next to each other, “You can keep both mine, from me to you.”

Jack grinned. It wasn’t much at all, but having a homemade gift held more value than anything money could offer. It was made specifically with him, and she gave it to him, willingly, as a souvenir. He shoved his pens into his pencil case, stacked his books and closed his laptop, sliding the pile across the table. Surprised, she began packing her belongings into her rucksack, they were done with their project according to him. In his defence, they had achieved more than they thought. He turned, resting his cheek in his palm with a burning intrigue glowing in his eyes.

“Oh, uh, I guess I like graphic design…that’s kinda my hockey. Just making sports posters or posters in general really. I’ll show you, my favourite.” She opened her laptop again, searching through the files while Jack scooted closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her chest tightened at the noise that slipped from his throat when the file loaded, an electrocuting excitement radiating from him as his jaw dropped and eyebrows raised. It was the coolest thing he’d ever seen, last year’s baseball schedule graphic that he thought was significantly better than the one the team had originally posted. Upon hearing his chain of compliments, she opened more files, discovering their common interest in sports and the odd TV show. He didn’t have many creative friends, he was part of a dominantly sporty crowd, in fact, anyone who had creative abilities fascinated him and he would argue that they deserve just as much praise as athletes. It wasn’t easy producing ideas and visions let alone executing them. 

The more Jack raved about her work, the more files she pulled up and explained with her full chest and he swore he saw her eyes light up the same way his did when he talked about hockey. So, he let her talk. He asked questions about inspiration, the origins of her hobby, her favourite aesthetics and future plans, works in progress and if she would want a future in graphic design too, all in which she answered for hours before the clock hit seven and they had to call it a day with bittersweet smiles like they wouldn’t be seeing each other the next day.  

* 

Good times fly fast. Is what someone would say if they were having fun, but the past week had not been for y/n and Jack. In the last week before their project was due, they had crammed a week’s worth of work into three days, their deadline being Thursday. Lunches were spent in the library, copying and formatting into their presentation slides, and then trying to condense, and condense and condense more into ten overall slides. If they hadn’t worked during class and at the library, they knew they would have failed and with Jack’s hockey schedule, they had no other option. They didn’t hate it, spending lunches together became the best part of their days, that little buzz in their stomach making the mundane classes easier to bear.  

The actual presenting part started awful when the PowerPoint wouldn’t load, then stabilised as Jack did most of the talking but then almost hit the fan when y/n stammered almost every time she spoke (which wasn’t her fault, some people can’t cope with public speaking). However, they had submitted, presented and they were project-free until May. 

Y/n didn’t expect to see much of Jack anymore, she wasn’t sure what would happen next after they had no project. She didn’t pay attention to her classmate’s presentations, her eyes zoned on the wall and her shoulders slumped in her seat. It was sort of…upsetting that it was over, not hanging out with Jack again. Would her friends be happy? Absolutely, the competition was over but during the three weeks, they hung out constantly, what others thought mattered less and less until she smiled more with him than she ever had with them. What she and Jack had was real. 

Jack’s eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together, he couldn’t bring himself to be happy, the bleak expression on her face pulled at his heart too aggressively. It couldn’t be over, he didn’t want it to be over. It was not going to be over. He pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket, eyes flicking to the teacher who was too engrossed in the assignment, and he typed quickly before stuffing the device back.

Wack Huh🤕 my house sundays? i think my mum wants to cook us dinner as a reward u can meet my hockey friends 2 they r coming 4 the wknd

Feeling her pocket vibrate and glancing at the teacher, she replied under the table.

Sunshine💪 Will be there ofc Are these the unique friends? Bracing myself

She smiled, looking to her left subtly to see Jack practically kicking is feet. All was not lost.

*

When Jack said his friends were unique, she wasn’t expecting three boys to be staring at her like meerkats when she entered the living room. At least he didn’t lie. She expected three dudes chilling on the sofa, with drinks and playing video games but instead, she was met with the short one and one with long-ish hair wrestling on the sofa with Mario Kart abandoned on the TV and Jack and the third with dark hair trying to pry them off each other, Jack babbling something about irritating his parents again. It was Quinn who’d answered the door again, apologising for the noise and again she had looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. The noise was something she was used to, especially coming from teenage boys, if Jim and Ellen didn’t get involved, it would be okay. When she stepped into the living room, calling Jack’s name, the three other boys shot up and snapped their heads with wide eyes like they’d never seen a girl in their lives. 

Jumping off the sofa, he stood beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and his thumb caressing comforting circles, “Y/n! This is Cole,” the short boy waved, “Trevor,” the boy with tanned skin and long-ish hair winked, blowing a kiss, “and Alex.” The dark-haired boy gave a kind, welcoming smile. They were Jack’s unique hockey friends she’d heard many stories about over the last few weeks, like how someone hid Trevor’s towel one time and he could only wait until everyone had left the locker room before changing, or how the four of them thought it would be a good idea to hold arms and spin in a circle while on rollerblades and then let go, so all four of them went flying in different directions but it was Cole who ended up, not only taking out a couple but falling into a bin. Or how Alex tried to impress a girl by belching the alphabet but instead she slapped him. 

“Do you like Mario Kart, y/n?” Alex asked, to which she nodded.

“Don’t get too cocky, she can pack a punch. Got that Trevor?” Jack sneered, holding her closer to his side and pointing to his almost-healed bruise.

“That was one time!” Trevor groaned, taking the controller he’d launched previously. “Don’t listen to him, angel. He’s just mad because he sucks at everything but Chel. 

Only Jack had given her a pet name before, especially not one on the first meeting or one like angel. Jack had nicknamed her when they met, but ‘Sunshine’ suited her at the time, a jab at her doom and gloom. Angel, though? That hit different, that felt personal, aimed at her looks alone.

“Mmm sure, at least his towel stays in one place, Trevvy.” She quipped, stepping into the room.

“Jack! Why would you tell her that?” Trevor grabbed a sofa cushion, and swung it at Jack’s face, “Angel, that does not happen often but if it means you call me ‘Trevvy’ again, it so can.”

The sun began to set earlier in the autumn. After a morning of violent Mario Kart matches and rough play in order to cheat, the five of them settled on the two sofas in front of the TV, this time watching The Amazing Spiderman and two empty bowls of popcorn and mugs that once homed hot chocolate. 

Jack’s eyes struggled; his energy burnt out from a weekend of non-stop moving but he refused to sleep in fear he’d fall onto Trevor’s shoulder. The last time he did that, he woke up with marker over his face and a cock on his cheek, but God, were his eyes heavy. Y/n repositioned herself, bringing her knees away from her chest and stretching them with glorious relief. Said relief was fleeting as she felt a weight drop onto her thighs, peering down to see Jack’s head lying comfortably, body curled up in the spot he was sitting in. She bit her lip, what the hell was she supposed to do? Leave him? Push him off? What did it mean, did friends normally do this? But his hair looked so soft and silky, it always did. It always looked good, even after he’d finished gym class. With a hitched breath and trembling hand hovering over his head, she ran her fingers through his hair with a feathery touch, nails massaging his scalp. If his heart hadn’t been thundering just trying to find the courage to lay on her lap, it was now exploding like fireworks at her touch lulling him into a slumber. Her fingers running through his locks sent euphoric sparks through his body, addicting, heavenly, he never wanted to move from the spot. He wouldn’t bring it up though, he didn’t want to talk about it, and it become painfully awkward and never happen again. That moment before he drifted off was Jack’s paradise.

Ten months of sitting with each other on the bus, sharing classes, and lunches, failing to beat the dating allegations and teasing. Forty Sundays were spent at the Hughes’, playing video games, street hockey, boardgames with the brothers, gardening with Ellen, listening to Jim’s life stories and sharing secrets in the confines of Jack’s bedroom.  

The summer before they started high school, Jack begged y/n to join his family at the lake house for the summer, the boy got on his knees and everything. Of course, she wanted to go, why would she reject going to this lake house she heard so much about? Her parents were the part she worried about, and if they said no, she’d make them regret it, taking her away from her happiness like that. And perhaps they would have, followed it up by giving the speech about it being unfair to her brother. But to her surprise, they were pretty much ushering her out the door. What she didn’t know was that Ellen had swung by and her mother agreed it would be good for y/n. Thank the stars for Ellen Hughes coming in the clutch there. Finally, a summer spent away from arguing and moaning about being grounded.

She’d never seen a lake house in person, and it was better than she imagined, bigger and fancier than some haggard shack. Growing up near enough in the city never gave her chances to see the open country much, let alone large lakes surrounded by well-kept homes thriving in pride, green to be seen for miles and most importantly no pollution and constant rumbling of cars. It was the perfect place to escape to.

The Hughes’ lake house was gorgeous, pale blue with white accents, flowers and hedges (kept in pristine condition by a gardener) lining the drive and bedded outside the front, long driveway where Jim’s truck and Ellen’s Toyota estate were parked up, said drivers unloading the suitcases while Jack explained the home to y/n: five bedrooms, a games room in the basement that looked out into the garden, back porch above the basement, docks at the end of the garden and their boat, a beautiful bowrider with bow seating and the back deck with a U-shape layout. The way Jack spoke with excitement bouncing around his body made all sorts of butterflies flutter inside her stomach, jubilation radiating from his smile as he pointed to the windows, informing her whose rooms were where. 

“Also, Mum said you get the spare room with Cole and Alex, which sucks because I was hoping we’d be roommates. So, if they try anything funny, let me know, okay? Though, I trust you’ll hit ‘em if they do. But my room’s only next door.” Jack placed his hands on her shoulders with a stern tone, searching her eyes for reassurance. He had half expected his parents to reject the idea, his friends were with him after all and three boys in one room never turned out peaceful. Ellen and Jim knew that first-hand. 

She chuckled, “I will, don’t worry. Besides, those two are the least of your worries.”

Trevor’s laughter roared from the truck and the two peered towards him before looking back at each other. Jack slumped with an exhale, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“I can’t believe I lost rock-paper-scissors. I love Trev and all, but he doesn’t stop talking. Y/n he talked the whole way here!”

Y/n’s laugh settled his nerves as he nuzzled into her shoulder. There were now going to be seven of them that summer, and hopefully for many more to come, getting any time alone with her would be a battle to the death. That may have been their last quiet moment together for that day, so she wound her arms around his torso, stroking his hair until Ellen called out for them.  

*

Only a week had flown by, and Jim had already started to regret his decision to let three boys tag along, the worst part being one sunny day and the other six raining, trapping everyone inside. That was one week, two cases of a blocked toilet, four ice packs to Trevor’s head from doing somersaults off the boat (on the one day it was sunny), six trips to the corner store for popcorn restocks and seven days of y/n, Quinn and Luke almost being knocked over by wrestling matches or whacked with a pool cue (Alex and Trevor almost lost their lives when they hit y/n square in the head). So, when the sun seeped through everyone’s blinds on Monday morning, Ellen and Jim pretty much slammed every bedroom door open, threw breakfast on the dining table and told the teens to make the most of the sunshine outside. 

Michigan was usually sweltering during the summer, cooking the seats and giving bare skin a fright when the leather latched to it, something Jack fell for every time. With the water calm and the lake hushed to birds singing their songs and neighbours heading out towards the country club, Quinn started up the boat. He’d only had his licence a year but if there was anything he knew just as well as hockey, it was the lake. And tuning out the irritations he was surrounded with, unfortunately. Cole, Alex and Luke lounged at the back, watching Trevor groan at Jack ditch him and dart back into the house, leaving him to heave a cool box through the garden and down the docks in which his best friends could have aided him with, but they were too busy hollering banter at him and Quinn, well Quinn chose to pretend like he hadn’t noticed. He was glad it wasn’t him for once. Whatever Jack needed was more important, clearly.

Jack dropped the cool box handle abruptly and spun on his heel, letting Trevor’s voice fade back out into the distance as his feet slapped against the wooden flooring inside the house. When he and Trevor reached the back porch, y/n wasn’t there waiting for them as she had insisted, and the thing about y/n is that when she said she’d be there, she would be there without fail. Besides, she was more important than Trevor carrying that cool box on his own. 

He knocked on the spare room door twice, calling out her name and waiting for her voice. Instead, she opened the door slightly, her head peeking around the corner with red, puffy eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, “what’s wrong? Was it the guys?”

She shook her head, refusing to let him open the door further and stop him. He’d never felt so useless in his life, she was right under his nose, crying and he hadn’t been there to soothe the tears away. All he wanted was to reach out and press her into his chest, let her sob into his t-shirt, pet her hair and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Instead, he was shut out, stuck between a barrier that he couldn’t seem to break through. 

“Sunshine, please let me in…” his voice was small, sympathy on his face and slowly she pulled the door back, allowing him to shuffle in and close the door behind him. When he turned around his jaw almost dropped, but his cheeks sold him out completely with how hot they flushed. When he saw her crying, he assumed that she was hurt, or that she’d received a nasty text or something that was not what he was faced with at that moment. All that ran through his mind was, ‘Fucking Christ.’ His body betrayed him then, so badly. His eyes raked her up and down, not in the way a predator seeks its prey but in the way that he had no idea what he should be trying to fathom. 

“I look awful. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Was all she squeaked. Jack shook his head eagerly, stuffing his hands into his swim shorts and stood next to her, encouraging them both to face the wall-length mirror.  

“I think you look…” he swallowed, throat suddenly dry and he shifted his weight, “Good.”

Of course, he’d seen women in bikinis before, in music videos, in magazines, in adverts, at the beach and lake but this time it was different. Y/n was a real-life girl who stood next to him in a bikini that showed more skin than he’d ever thought about. She looked more than good, she looked pretty, stunning but the latter were lumps stuck in his throat.

“You think so?” she asked, staring at them both in the mirror, removing her hands from covering her body. Jack never looked any different. She’d only ever known him to have abs or abs in progress. He was an active guy, she expected it, but it didn’t mean she didn’t find it drop-dead attractive, struggling to swat away the thoughts of touching the dips in muscles and smoothing her hands over his shoulders. He hummed in response, just two teens taking in their bodies as if they’d never seen them before. Growing up sucked sometimes. “I wish I had your slutty little waist.”

She broke into a contagious smile, one that seemed to calm whatever was making his shorts uncomfortable and chest tight, “And I wish I had your nice tits but here we are.” 

“Tits only look good in bras, Jack. Gravity betrays them.”

“That's okay, I love a good album drop.”

 She smacked his chest jokingly and giggled, “You're such a perv.”

“Hey, I'm saying you look hot!” He raised his hands in defence, the lump in his throat shrinking but biting his tongue.

“Not just me.” With her arms folded over her chest, she teased him, pushing her chest together and smirking when his eyes shifted quickly.

Jack stepped closer to, y/n spinning to face him as his figure loomed over hers, close enough to hear each other mumble crystal clear, “Oh? Then who else?”

Gazes falling back into each other, smirks painted on lips, the message was evident but getting each other to admit such secrets was their favourite game to play, especially with high stakes waiting for them, now impatiently, outside on the boat.

“I don’t know, Trevor’s cleaning up well lately.” She cocked an eyebrow. Behind his sleaze grin, he loathed the name that ruined his moment. Why was he on her mind when they were stood, alone, on a friendly flirtatious rollercoaster that kindled his puppy love craving for giddy sparks in his tummy? Instead, all he felt was that horrible thorn stabbing in his side again. “But you’re not too bad yourself, I guess.”

“You little- c’mere,” before she could wiggle away, his arms locked around her waist, pulling her flush into his chest as she squealed, “that wakeboard is calling us.”

Squirming, Jack threw her over his shoulder, opening the door and taking them both down the hall. She laughed the whole time, “I can't wait to watch you fall off again.”

Cole and Luke piped up like little meerkats when Jack and y/n closed in on the boat, y/n still cackling over his shoulder. He plopped her down on the deck, stepping into the boat first just so she could hold his hand while she joined them. There was no way he was letting anyone else have the privilege of having her hand enchant theirs. 

“Looking sexy, angel.” Trevor hollered, way too loudly for how close they all were. Jack did his best to hide his irritation, but he let a deep huff slip and perhaps he glared a little too harshly at Trevor, who only winked.

“You too, Zegras,” she thanked him, sitting next to Jack, thighs touching. “You been working out lately?” 

“You could say that. Been hittin’ the gym.” He flexed his bicep, “Was hoping you’d notice. Wanna come take a feel?”

“And get your cooties? No thanks.” She chuckled, watching Trevor slouch back in the seat with defeat.

Jack’s muscles tensed and he lay his arm on the seats behind y/n. His friends received a message that day, one loud and clear yet when Cole, Alex and Trevor, all gave each other scheming looks, Jack knew he screwed up.

*

They started high school, lost friends, made new ones, got introduced to social constructs for the first time and the anxieties and insecurities that came in the package. What trend was in this week? People were wearing makeup now? When did people start filling out and getting taller? Everything was changing, everyone was changing and suddenly the world seemed so small and terrifying to walk in. Of course, the scariest part of it all was the cliques. They say they don’t exist in real life, that they only serve as movie elements, but they very much did happen in real life and y/n found herself at the centre of it all. Being friends with Jack brought out the best in her, and it wasn’t middle school anymore, nobody knew who she was and better, nobody knew Jack, only by association with Quinn (which wasn’t all good, he was always going to be Quinn’s little brother). Grumpy and grim y/n was part-time, and she let people in, made friends who didn’t care if she was friends with Jack and Jack being Jack attracted a crowd. Y/n went from being a middle school nobody with fickle friends to rather popular for all the right reasons with a tight circle. And her best friend, Jack Hughes. 

Another Sunday, another afternoon spent laying on his bed watching Netflix while snuggled in his hoodie. They took their usual position, y/n sat against the wall with Jack’s head on her lap, fingers running through his hair. Although the episode played in the background, both silent and still, her attention droned on him. He’d grown so much over the year. He was taller, and broader, he’d started working out more and every time they hugged, or she held onto his arm, she felt the growing definition. His hair wasn’t as blond anymore, it morphed into a dirty-blond, on its way to brunet shortly but that wasn’t the most noticeable change to her. Jack had grown out of his baby fat, his jaw one of the sharpest among the boys in their grade. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his striking eyes and whirlwind personality. He still followed her like a lost puppy, dragging her and jumping around her, glued to her hip, and she’d grown to love it. 

She hadn’t realised that the episode had ended and been paused, Jack rolling over onto his back, gazing up at her. She continued to stroke his hair, the silence between them comforting as he got lost in her eyes. He’d found his person and so far, he’d let nobody take that away from him. But he, like everyone, had that sinking feeling looming inside him. One day, she’d like another boy, and they’d start dating and he’d have to share his precious time with him. Sharing with his brothers was awful enough, but watching Luke try and teach her how to play Chess spread warmth through his heart, and he’d never laughed so hard seeing her and Quinn get borderline violent during Uno (she almost lunged over the table), so that wasn’t so bad. But at school, that was like trying to hit a puck with a mop: impossible. Boys would like her, see her in ways he did, but also ways he’d want to punch them for, and he would be the masculinity-threatening-boy-best-friend. 

“I always wondered why mum lets us do this. Hang out in my room with the door closed.” He said with his voice low, or as low as it could go without breaking and squeaking. 

“Maybe my aura is trustworthy.” She chuckled, his eyes closing as her nails raked gently over his scalp. “You mean she didn’t give you a lecture?”

“Damn, think my mum likes you more than she likes me. But yeah, it was basically her telling me to not get you pregnant, which was fucking crazy for a Monday, but I was expecting to be told to keep the door open so they could see what we were doing. Y’know, that kinda shit.” When they’d stopped hanging out in the living room due to background noise disrupting their shows, Ellen had pulled him aside one evening and given him a thirty-minute lecture on trust and not getting girls pregnant as teenagers, but also the importance of using protection, not that either of them were going to have sex, they were only fifteen. He groaned and avoided eye contact the entire time, wanting the ground to swallow him when Quinn heard the entire thing and told Luke. Of course, she was basically telling him that she trusts him to not get y/n pregnant if they were moving to his room. They may have used his room to do their project many moons ago, but that was different, it was once before Jim found out and purposely cleaned the dining room table (which had been on his to-do list for too long) so they could work there instead, even though they were thirteen going fourteen at the time. “Don’t your folks worry about things like that? Like for all they know, we could be fucking right now.”

She laughed as he opened one eye. She hadn’t mentioned a lot about home, but at some point, she would have to spill the secrets about it. It wasn’t that her parents were bad people, no, not at all. They were supportive and loving, but her younger brother, who was in Luke’s grade, was a rebel without a cause and made it difficult for her parents.

“They’ve got bigger problems than what I’m doing,” she said, giving him a smile but she knew he was desperate to ask why she never asked him over to hers. She overheard Jack and Jim talking about it one afternoon as she was walking past. They were getting out Jim’s truck and she just happened to be on her way home from the store. It wasn’t that she was ashamed but exposing him to screaming and arguing wasn’t a promising impression at all. “My brother’s a pain in the ass, bad in school, bad reports, near suspensions, violence. My parents just want the best for him but all he does is get hostile, and then my parents start yelling and then everyone’s arguing with each other, avoiding each other, awkward dinners. He’s supposed to play hockey, but my parents can never get him to go to practice more than twice a week, hence I knew about the school grades and hockey relation. I just don’t like hearing the yelling all the time and I don’t want people to know about it.”

“Do my parents know about it? They seem to talk with yours a lot…”

She pushed the hair off his forehead, thumb rubbing circles over a bruise from his helmet, “Probably, I don’t know.” 

He thought carefully, both eyes opened and steadied on hers before he opened his mouth to speak, his voice soft, “You’re always welcome here. My home is your home.”

Just as his dad had told him, offering up your home could be one of the nicest things to do for someone and hearing his words made her stomach fuzzy as a spark of adrenaline surged through her. Should she just do it? Was it okay? What if he pushed her away? Fuck it, what was the worst that could happen, he was too charming to pass up the opportunity and maybe she’d be the first to do it.

She leant down, the other hand’s fingertips lightly ghosting his jaw as she placed her lips to his forehead, giving his flushed skin a sweet, chaste kiss, “Thank you, Wack.”

His jaw dropped, bug-eyed but blooming with ecstasy at the foreign sensation driving through his body and fogging his mind. He couldn’t resist temptation and broke out into a cheshire-cat grin, eyes crinkling at the corners and cheeks burning pink. He felt like the happiest man alive. She was still his person.

*

Homecoming turned out to certainly be a night to remember, in more ways than one. A good few weeks or days, she wasn’t really paying attention, of grand proposals like it was prom, many couples chained together like it were to be their wedding night and the everlonging hope that someone would ask her to be his date. The assumption was that everyone wanted to ask the popular girls, because they held this social value, clout that they had no idea about, making them highly desirable to be seen with at homecoming. Because anything could happen after homecoming, right? Kisses, sex, teens saying they had sex when really their dad caught them making out on the driveway. For a group of popular girls, only one had been asked to be a date, and she would have a magical night to add to her memories. 

At first, she thought with her whole heart that Jack would ask her, but then he asked another girl who she didn’t even know. She waited weeks and even had a jumpscare dream that Quinn was forced to take her out of pity. She physically cringed at that, as hot as she found him. Jack was positive though and reassured her that someone would come, there were loads of guys in their grade, one of them was bound to ask her, ‘You’re y/n! Why wouldn’t someone ask you? You��re the coolest and funniest! He’d be stupid to pass you up!’. He tried his best to wingman, he really did, and he thought he’d hit the bullseye with a guy from his gym class.

Y/n sat at one of the tables pushed to the side, cheek resting in her palm while she watched the couples and groups dance under the warm lighting of the gym. The committee settled of a Great Gatsby theme, with dim lighting, a red carpet at the entrance, extravagant balloons and chandeliers covering the ceiling, gold accessories, red tablecloths and a photo booth. Nobody had asked her along with her friends, she wasn’t originally going to attend, claiming to Jack that, ‘It was just a stupid dance, why would I go?’ but there she sat, alone.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, 21:30. Two hours had been long enough for attendance, surely, and clearly nobody was dying to see her. With a sigh, she stood up, patting down her outfit and began to make her way towards the doors. She took one final gaze into the crowd of swaying and hands roaming bodies, the sea parting briefly and the world fell silent. Standing frozen, her eyes widened slightly, lips parting as she locked eyes with him. He was blatantly staring right back at her, like she’d caught him red-handed in the act. Jack stood amongst the crowd, alone, hands stuffed into his suit pockets and looking the most handsome she’d ever seen him. Like a moth to a flame, their legs moved on their own, weaving through the crowd with lips slipping into smiles the closer they became to each other until they stopped chest to chest, joining the sea of bodies. As if on cue, the once upbeat music lulled into a soft and slow song, the accent lights dimming until the chandeliers projected perfect amber droplets around the gym. 

Jack held his hand out, “Will you dance with me?” 

She didn’t need to speak, her hand melted into his as he pulled her into his chest, gliding his hands to her hips while hers looped around his neck, swaying in perfect sync to the music. He looked so good, too good, or maybe he always looked like that, and it was only then she was letting herself accept it. The way his thumbs caressed her hips made it too easy to seek comfort in him, gentle and thoughtful, not ghosting but not bruising. The perfect pressure that made the pit of her stomach warm and tingly. 

Jack’s heart exploded repeatedly in his chest, like she was the cause of his death yet also the healer. He hadn’t expected to see her alone that night, he really believed she’d be swept off her feet so when he caught her just before she slipped away, out of his reach, he was five seconds from bursting through the crowds, without a care for who he pissed off, they didn’t matter. When her hands touched his neck, the only thing he felt like doing was hugging her tight and close, to run his hands over her to feel the fire burn through him all over again, and again, and again. That addicting kind of burn, the kind that kept him warm. He just never wanted her to let him go, didn’t want to become an infirm flame.

“Thought you weren't coming to this stupid dance?” his voice husky, quiet, not to kill the mood for others but his playfulness seeped through.

A wave of confidence washed over her, maybe it was destiny they’d found each other, “It was stupid because I didn’t have a date. But I guess it's not so bad anymore. I get to dance with a pretty guy.” 

“I was about to ditch until a pretty girl agreed to dance with me.” He chuckled.

“You think I’m pretty?” Her smile dropped slowly, and her eyebrows raised. Jack swore he saw the stars in her eyes then, glittering under the lights and just them two in the world. 

“Always.” He murmured. Her lips twitched up when his smile never faltered, ever since they met, he always looked at her like she’d hung the stars out for him. “I’m sorry nobody asked you to be their date. I thought- I’m sorry, I thought Ryan would. Guess he pussied out.”

He knew he should’ve talked to her, asked her if anyone had asked her yet, if Ryan from gym class did go through with it, but guilt bit him in the gut. That’s what he got for neglecting his best friend, focussing on a girl he met four days prior, and he paid the price by watching her heart break before his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” she cupped his cheek, feeling him melt into her hand like putty as he leaned down, “but I’m flattered you assumed I would have one. I came with my friends instead, but I lost them.”

“If it helps, my date ditched me too. Pretty much as soon as we got here.”

Their gazes steadied on each other, her hand glued to his face and showing no sign of moving away as he closed in on her lips. She stood on her tiptoes, attempting to close the gap with hot, trembling breaths tangling and lips inches apart. Heartbeats raced at a million miles per hour, hammering in their ears with what felt like electricity transferring between them with how giddy they were. It was just them in the room, their world and everyone was just existing. Lips ghosted, eyes fluttering closed as they took the final leap. 

Until Jack pulled back, and instead let his lips meet her forehead for a gentle kiss. Yet the thrill remained, smiles shone brightly, and eyes still sparkled under the chandeliers. His mind screamed at him, screamed insults and profanities for not thinking clearly, face flushing pink as his smile poorly hid his embarrassment. Y/n wanted to run, but her feet refused to move, heart too swept up in the moment.

*

Winters in Toronto bit hard. Froze anyone to their core, nothing but one big duvet of snow covering every building, road and car for miles, taunting the poor civilians who had to wake up extra early just to shovel their driveways and lay layers of grit on the footpaths. The only real redeeming quality for it were the Christmas decorations plotted around people’s front yards and lights wrapped around fences and trees, hung on porches and bushes. Perhaps the Christmas spirit too, when people decide to be just a little bit kinder than normal or suddenly feel the urge to see every family member they know, or huddle inside and watch films by the fire all day with hot chocolate and puzzles. The best of all, Christmas break. A house with no parents for days and freedom to do whatever you wanted. 

Unfortunately for y/n and Quinn, there was no huddling in the warmth or sleeping in. The two eldest siblings were promptly enforced to shovelling duty in the AM so their parents could make it to work on time. Thick coats zipped to chins and hockey beanies pulled down to the eyebrows. Y/n’s dad was an early riser, so she never had too much to shovel at six-thirty in the morning with headtorches, but since she was already up, she trudged her way down the road, shovel in hand and surprised Quinn by aiding him. Both gave each other a mutual look of disapproval at their parent’s decision, why were they the ones being punished? 

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.” He was so kind, too kind, and such a softie with the way he smiled though his face felt numb.

Y/n tipped a pile of snow off his driveway, “Wasn’t like a was sleeping anyway, teamwork makes the dream work.” 

He chuckled with her, both shovelling the last pieces of snow before huffing and high fiving.

“Hey, we’re heading down the rink this evening, you wanna join? Jack’s dying to teach you how to skate, won’t shut up about it.”

At seven-thirty in the evening, the rink was exactly where y/n had found herself, her hands clutched in Jack’s as she attempted to skate like a newborn giraffe. His practice wouldn’t start until eight, and he was determined to get her skating on her own by the end of the public session. Kind of. Part of him had a longing to skate side by side with her, her arm looped with his as they glided around the ice in a perfect sync, yet the other part melted into a puddle when she clung to him for stability, she was just too cute when she concentrated. How could she rollerblade but not ice skate? It was the same thing, almost. 

“I got you, don’t try and walk, trust the blades and push. I won’t let you fall; I promise.” He instructed, intently watching her feet move and progressively start gliding yet also trying to not tumble backwards. “That’s it, you’re doing so well.”

His words repeated in her head like a verse, a greed for success shining at the end of a dark tunnel, she would learn to skate eventually. Even though she was barely skating, she laughed the entire time, deep down knowing Jack was doing a lot more dragging than he was letting on, he just wanted her to be happy and have fun. 

“You think you can try on your own? I’ll still catch you.” The shock and horror on her face when he let go sent a shockwave through him, y/n was hard to rattle, courageous as they came sometimes and he never thought ice would be her enemy. He found it somewhat amusing, watching her wobble like a baby deer, cautiously moving one leg in front of the other and her arms reaching out to him just for him to slide back, like she was chasing him. 

“Jack this is terrifying!” she cried, but not seriously. 

“No no, you’re doing fine, look! You’re skating!” 

“Barely!” She straightened her hunched posture, bending her knees like Jack had shown her and caught his burning eyes. He did have confidence in her, real, genuine confidence that she wasn’t a lost cause. So, the ambition grew, pushing with more power, using her hands to drive her stride instead of looking for him and by seven-fifty, she could just about skate in one direction. 

With one hefty push, she threw her hands up in victory, forgetting about stability and purposely falling into Jack, who caught her by the waist and cheered with her while spinning in a circle with smiles that ached their cheeks.

“I did it!”

“I told you so, Sunshine!” He pulled her onto her feet, hands holding hers tight and cosy, looking at her like she was the most beautiful diamond of the batch, “When I’m out there with the big shots, I’ll take you to the family skate, and the whole world can see us, I swear.”

“Sounds good to me! You better be winning games though!”

“Duh! I have a practice game today, and if I win, I think I deserve a thank you for being your coach.” Although he was only joking, she’d known him long enough to know he was also being dead serious.

“Alright, I suppose. What do you want?”

He pretended to think hard, rubbing his non-existent facial hair on his jaw, “Mmm, I think if I win, I would like a kiss, right here.” He pointed to his cheek. He knew goddamn well what he was doing, the boy craved affection and attention and he knew she was willing to feed it to him.

She agreed, short-circuiting for a second at his wishes but not entirely opposed to the idea overall. He was cute, and she did wonder what it would feel like to kiss a boy and her friends had all done it so why wouldn’t she? The final call for changeover buzzed and vibrated the walls, public skaters leaving the ice and the hockey coaches entering to set up. Jack led y/n off, taking her skates off for her and bidding her a temporary goodbye with a squeeze before she left to sit in the lobby. 

On the way through to the locker rooms, an arm plonked itself around his shoulder, “Lil’ Hugh, that uh, girl you were with, she’s real cute. She got a Snapchat?” 

Shrugging his arm off, he continued walking, “Not for you, Chris.”

“Oh~,” Chris was his teammate, and unfortunately someone Jack could never find a middle ground with. He thought he had superiority since his father was a former professional hockey player, “Is she your girlfriend? That why?”

Jack turned the corner and entered the locker room, ignoring Chris’ comments and gossip but his fuse shortened every time Chris opened his mouth. Y/n wasn’t some girl to rotate around the team, he’d sworn to himself that she’d never go near the team ever. She was his person; she and hockey were separate, and he hated how badly his jaw tightened whenever her name left someone else’s mouth. All he wanted was to scoop her up in his arms and tell her how much she meant to him. He knew, oh knew painfully well how down bad he’d fallen for his best friend already. 

Y/n almost dropped her phone when the doors to the lobby swung open to a Jack bundling through them at some inhuman speed. She whipped around, standing up to open her arms, catching him with a stumble. The cheesy grin on his face meant one thing, and it was that Jack was about to claim victory for the second time. With a playful eye roll, she cupped his jaw, little fires tingling over his skin and igniting more goosebumps than the cold could. Her lips softly met his cheek, giving it a sweet peck before he engulfed her in a bear hug.

Sixteen was such a socially vital age to be turning. Everyone had crazy sixteenth birthdays it seemed. She remembered Quinn’s well, he’d thrown a house party and when she found out she was invited, surprised was an understatement. Some guy had managed to get his hands on alcohol, and at least half the guests got tipsy, except this one girl who threw up in the garden. She knew that because it was her and Jack who’d hosed it down before Ellen and Jim got home the next morning. It was also her and Jack who’d nursed Quinn’s hangover and cleaned half the house for him, safe to say that it was a party people remembered. 

Now it was Jack’s sixteenth, he hadn’t planned to celebrate socially until the weekend, savouring the actual day to have at home, just the two of them watching a marathon of The Mighty Ducks in the living room although spent most of the second movie eyeing up the present and card on the coffee table in front of them. Pausing the TV, he took the card between his fingers, slicing the envelope with his nail.  

Y/n bit her lip, in excitement or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she struggled to sit still in anticipation as he pulled the card out. His eyes lit up, carefully holding the handmade card between his fingers, admiring the poster of himself in the format of his favourite video game cover (‘chel’/NHL). Pestering Ellen for photos was worth it after all, the edit looked almost real. No store-bought present could come anywhere close in value to the card in his hands, and the long message handwritten inside made his chest swell and tummy do somersaults like it was going to explode. Placing the card on the coffee table, he reached for the present, looking back at her for the go ahead before tearing the paper to shreds over the floor.  

“Thank you so much, Sunshine.” He tackled her back into the sofa cushions, fingers gripping the marshmallow-scented cologne he’d mentioned one lunchtime.  

“Anytime.” She fished for the remote, hitting the play button and accepting the fact that Jack had no intention of moving off her, nuzzling his head into her chest as if he couldn’t have been any more obvious to her. She didn’t mind, it was only Jack, and the weight was comfortable and brought a sense of security. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers carding through his hair until the sound from the TV slowly droned out, pairs of eyes fluttering closed, and they drifted off.  

While passing by, Ellen’s heart swelled. In the years y/n had joined their lives, she’d never seen her rowdiest son so calm and hooked on someone like Jack was to y/n. Ellen never told Jack or any of her boys, but back when the kids were only young, Ellen and y/n’s mother hoped they’d become friends just as the l/n’s and the Hughes’ had, enrolling them in the same schools their whole lives just to ensure that if all ended badly, they’d still have someone in their lives. They always assumed it would be y/n and Jack hitting it off being the same age, but little y/n seemed to enjoy little Quinn’s personality more, likely due to being the eldest and always having a louder younger sibling disgruntling them, hovering all the same with that childlike fascination that there’s someone else living in their home too. But kids grow up and the heartbreaking part of being a parent was watching kids grow apart from each other until they were nothing more than neighbours and strangers on the same street, the kid from class until they’d completely forgotten that at one point, they were friends.  

She draped a blanket over the two, carefully prying the cologne box from Jack’s hand and placing it on the coffee table and turning the TV off. To say that she was riddled with joy as a mother was nowhere near as descriptive as what she felt inside, even spotting the card y/n had made Jack just made her want to tear up. It wasn’t easy finding solace in someone, but as his mother, she knew that no matter who he dated, how many girls he dated, none of them would ever bring the peace of mind y/n had and unfortunately for that poor girl, y/n would always be his number one priority, whether Jack knew it himself or not. 

* 

People change ages and they also change mentally and emotionally with it. His sixteenth weekend social turned out to be one of the best nights of his life, not a great one for y/n (she was on drunk Jack duty after once again, beers had been smuggled in). She knew that one day, she would be second to Jack, he’d raved about girls to her day after day, his confidence never wavering when it came to his feelings. It started with Nicole when they were thirteen but nothing ever came of it, Talia at fourteen whom he had his first kiss with under the bleachers, he dated Emma when they were fifteen and he took her to homecoming, only for her to ditch him then dump him a month later and at late fifteen, Jack started dating Kenna but at sixteen they had recently broken up, yet Jack was still stuck on her. She never understood why, not because she was upset or jealous, but Kenna wasn’t ever clear with him whether she liked him or not, but Jack seemed to be into whatever it was. Above all those girls, he told y/n about every single one of them in crushing detail, calling until the silly hours of the morning like a lovestruck teenager. Y/n kept her crushes and boyfriends on the down low, they weren’t anyone’s business anyway. Jack had only met one of her boyfriends, and the air that day was as awkward as it came, behind Jack’s forced smile his shoulders tensed and jaw locked, poor Miles sweat like a pig for the whole interaction. But she couldn’t date Miles for long, couldn’t lead him on like she felt something real for him and after four months she called it off. He thought it was due to Jack, which would have been any guy’s default answer, but Jack had no idea about it until a week after. The worst part for Miles was that y/n didn’t shed a tear, she’d cried over Jack more. 

Y/n and Jack stood outside his friend, Liam’s, house. Music thumping, echoing into the street outside and colourful lights strobing from the windows with teens seeping into and out the house as they pleased. It was the most college looking party they’d seen, but Liam’s parents were on the wealthier side, and they had a large enough house to host.  

“Wack, I have a really bad feeling about this,” Y/n said, holding onto Jack’s arm. Her hand squeezing around his bicep made him all kinds of jittery inside.  

“It’ll be okay, yeah? If you wanna leave, either come find me or give me the signal.” He smiled, giving her forehead a quick peck, “And if you can’t find me, find my friends, you’re okay with them, right?”  

She was, she’d hung out with them on occasions and had classes with a couple of them. They weren’t on a level of friendship like Jack was with them, but they were the kind of friend where you’d still be relieved if you saw them in an unfamiliar place.  

With a nod, they entered through the crowds, snaking through bodies to find Liam and the rest of Jack’s group. In a house swamped with people she knew, y/n had never felt so small and alone, clinging to Jack’s arm like she didn’t belong there at all. She could hold onto his arm the whole night and he wouldn’t have minded; his number one fear was losing her entirely or being unable to help her in a time of dire need.  

After an hour of being at Liam’s, her vice grip on Jack’s arm was surrendered as soon as her friends arrived. Liam was only really friends with one of them, but the more the merrier, right? The level of tea that had been spilt while she and her friends dominated the sofas was astronomical, y/n had updated her mental filing cabinet of high school gossip completely, a full reboot and she’d contributed heavily to it. ‘Anyone who claims they don’t gossip is the biggest gossip’, that was their motto.  

Her friend, Rachel, leant closer into their huddle, “Guess who just arrived? Kenna!” 

“Kenna? As in Kenna who started dating Miles? That’s fucking bold.” Sarah gasped, the group’s eyes widening. 

“Huh?” y/n choked on her beer, “They’re dating? Why?” 

“Right!” Kylie’s posture straightened, her mouth falling in disbelief, “Though, I heard from Josh that Miles was super bummed when y/n/n dumped him, so maybe he’s in his revenge era?” 

“Bold of him to assume I care about what he does.” Y/n sipped her drink, scoffing slightly.  

“Really? Lily, the blonde one, said that Owen told Liam that Kenna and Jack had broken up and Kenna was so pissed about it because apparently Jack dumped her for y/n/n, which we know isn’t true because Jack and y/n/n aren’t together!” Jonie exclaimed. Y/n hated how her heart sped up, there was no way she was the reason Jack left the girl he was crazy about for her.

“That’s further from the truth,” y/n piped up, “Kenna dumped Jack a week before his birthday outside my locker, think she was upset that he planned to spend his birthday with me and not her. Fucking Cam was there too. I dumped Miles way before that.”

“Oh my God, maybe Miles thought you dumped him for Jack and Kenna assumed that you two were canoodling? Like, ‘Hey, sorry but I love my bestie more than you, you’re second place’ which is understandable, it’s normal.” Kylie raised. All drinks had been set by feet and the huddle tightened, the conversation just got juicy. 

“One, never say canoodling, two, hold up. Why would Miles date Kenna to get back at y/n? And vice versa?” Rachel asked, the group subtly glancing across the room at the two victims of their night. 

“Shit, Kenna knows Jack’s crazy about her and probably knows he hates Miles. It’s for the chase. Poor Wack.” Y/n rested her chin in her palm, her friends looking at her with sappy eyes hearing her use the nickname. 

“You two are too cute.” Kylie cooed, y/n rolling her eyes. She despised that comment with every fibre in her body. Nobody broke her heart more than the comments about how cute she and Jack were, nothing fed delusions and false hopes more. Jack liked Kenna, and that was final. In no universe would she and Jack be more than friends, as much as that tore her heart out of her chest. Maybe some people aren’t meant to be. 

As if they’d summoned him, Jack shoved his way through the crowds to the sofa and stood with panic in his eyes, “Sunshine, I need your help, like now.” 

Jack dragged her to a corner of the living room, away from the majority of the crowd but not isolated entirely. When Jack said he needed him, she hadn’t expected the following sentence at all. He’d seen Kenna and Miles, and he’d fallen into their trap, and she felt nothing but sympathy for him.  

“So, Kenna thinks we’re, like, a thing so I need you to kiss me.” He begged, y/n stood frozen, “Please, y/n, you know how crazy I am about her, I’ll make it up to you.” 

She almost shook her head and walked away, but the way he flashed his puppy eyes and clutched her hands in his, she couldn’t resist. He was so adamant that by Kenna seeing them kiss, she’d come crawling back to him in some sort of jealous fit of rage. Kissing Jack would screw things up, y/n knew that. She knew that it may have not meant anything to Jack, it would fog her feelings and mind too much and she’d never be able to look at him the same way again. But they were best friends, they were supposed to be there for each other, and his happiness was her number one priority. 

“All right, pretty boy,”  

Her hands cupped his jaw, his lips gracing into a smile. He wasn’t supposed to feel excited; he wasn’t supposed to feel restless with adrenaline surging through him and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the way he melted into her palms and his hands embedded on her hips, pulling their bodies closer. He dipped down, closer to filling the gap between them as eyelids fluttered closed with hot breaths bouncing off each other's cheeks. The house of bustling teenagers yelling to each other over throwback songs and cheering from beer pong muted and everyone they were once surrounded by felt like they had disappeared into the void as just the two of them heard heartbeats pulse in their ears. Just Jack and y/n, y/n and Jack. Their lips pressed together, a thrilling voracity unleashing, and his tongue swiped her lower lip. She was only going to live once, and even though she’d never made out with anyone before, if she wasn’t great at it, at least it was only Jack. She opened her mouth, his tongue darting in with a fervent desire. With one hand sliding to his nape, tugging on the hairs and ripping a groan from the back of his throat, one of his hands left her hip and slid up her spine, pressing her body closer into his chest. She followed his lead, tongues lapping at each other in a rousing frenzy, like something they’d been dreaming of doing for months and getting it out of their systems turning them feral for the taste and affection. All the little touches, hugs, afternoons spent cuddling on his bed, time cooped up in each other's company with no proper understanding of their feelings finally bursting into fireworks.  

He pulled back, chests heaving as they caught breaths with half-lidded eyes speaking more words of yearning than either would admit before Jack dove back in, deeply kissing her slowly, tongues roaming mouths and moans vibrating through chests as they physically couldn’t stop themselves from drinking in one another.  

Perhaps they’d kissed a bit too long for it to be fake, kissed a bit too well for it to be a show. What they did was that dreaded limbo between a mistake and the experience of a lifetime. When they had pulled away for the final time, hands leaving each other hesitantly with sheepish smiles, Kenna stormed out the room, y/n and Jack watching her with giggles. The pair turned to each other and high-fived with strained hearts and trampled feelings being stuffed to the pits of their minds as they’d tried to forget the kiss ever happened. Not that they could, no, there was too much intent behind the way they touched, too many sparks between their lips for it to not mean anything at all. It meant everything to y/n, her first proper French kiss and when the world tuned back into play, she ascended to the heavens with pure elation. She hoped he felt the same, the way he kissed her had too much desperation and emotion behind it to all be just an act. 

Another two hours drowning at the party, another three cheap beers and she just had to break the seal, and wetting yourself at a party was not what anyone wanted in their teenage years. She splashed her face, doing her best to keep herself away, perhaps another hour and she’d go lug Jack home. Fixing her hair and outfit, she slipped from the bathroom, exhaling before entering the lion's den once again but when she turned the corner, her stomach dropped to the pit and shattered into shambles. She was so wrong. She knew it was a bad idea and she should have stayed strong when he raised the idea because then she wouldn’t be watching Jack lip-lock with Kenna right in front of her. She had to remind herself, repeat it like a mantra to drill it into her skull, they were just best friends at the end of the day. Jack was into Kenna, and she knew that, but it should’ve been her standing there. It was her before Kenna, why did he like her anyway? She was hot and cold, on and off with him, one day they were snuggled up and the next y/n was the one cradling Jack through his rambles. Kissing Jack had always meant nothing, yet she deluded herself that it meant everything. With watery eyes, she took a sharp breath and kept walking, B-lining for Jack’s friends at the beer pong table. Anything to take her mind off the invasive fantasies being abolished. Getting drunk didn’t sound all that bad anymore.  

“Hey, y/n!” Liam called as she approached, his t-shirt collar damp and stained, “You good?” 

“Yeah, was wondering if you needed one more player?” she lied, hiding any drop of hurt behind her teeth.  

They split into even teams, re-setting and refilling the red solo cups to the brim and playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who started. Liam won, lining up his aim and watching the ping pong ball bounce over all the cups, the other team (y/n’s team) letting out sighs of relief. The next guy took his shot, the ball landing in the cup and the round continued, y/n forgetting about Jack the more beer she threw down her throat.  

One round quickly turned to two in the heat of the thrill, the beer slowly running low and so Liam pulled out the vodka he’d stashed away from the rest of the party. The vodka had one hell of a kick compared to the beer, the burning satisfying as it fell down her throat, yet it was the perfect remedy as the more cups she drank from, the less Jack entered her mind. Until the room started spinning and nausea hit her like a brick. 

“I’ll be right back; I don’t feel so hot.” She tapped Liam’s shoulder, stumbling as she turned away.  

“Shit,” Liam wrapped his arm around her shoulder, stabilising her, “hold on guys, be right back.”  

Liam guided her to the bathroom, sitting down next to the toilet with her. She shook her head at him and leant over the bowl, panic rushing through him as his hands pulled her hair away from her face. 

“It’s all right, ‘atta girl,” he soothed. He shouldn’t be the one with her in that state, she needed someone close and that she trusted, and Liam wasn’t sure if she was entirely okay with him seeing her in such a disastrous state, but if he left her, Jack would tear the place up.  

She stopped retching, tears falling down her cheeks as she sobbed out hoarsely, “Just wan…ted to forget…saw.”  

Meanwhile, Jack hung in the garden with a group of girls, Kenna and her friends, re-telling a half-exaggerated story from the summer when Owen blundered over to him and gripped him by the arm, spinning him around to face him.  

“Hughesy! Your girl's not holding up so good, she played beer pong, Liam took her to the bathroom.” He explained hurriedly, watching Jack’s face screw up, brows knitting deepening on this forehead and suddenly the girls weren’t important anymore. 

“And you left her there?!” he hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but his fight or flight kicked in and he shrugged Owen off, storming into the house, “Thanks anyway.” 

Jack’s ears blocked out his classmates swear at him as he burst through the house, pushing his way to the bathroom like the place was on fire, swinging the bathroom door open and halting when his eyes laid upon y/n slumped against the cabinet, Liam sat opposite her. 

“I got her, go. Thanks for keeping an eye on her.” He let Liam squeeze past before locking the door. Jack crouched in front of her, his chest tightening at her tear-stained cheeks tinted red, his palm resting on her cheek. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said softly, y/n nuzzling into his hand with opening, puffy eyes, “why’d you drink so much?” 

“M’was sad.” She uttered out, pulling her knees closer to her chest with a fuzzy head and weak jaw. 

“And why were you sad?” his thumb rubbed her cheek, guilt building in his stomach. She was in dire need of him, and he wasn’t there. The evil voice at the back of his brain refusing to let it slide, howling it at him, ‘You weren’t fucking there! It’s your fault!’. 

She lulled her head up straight, red, sleepy eyes staring into his, “Because…you kissed me,” she slurred, sniffing, “and I liked it, and I shouldn't have…because you kissed another girl. So, it meant…meant nothing.” 

You kissed me and I liked it. It rang through his head like a parasite. Actions have consequences, his dad had always told him that since he was a child and he was finally realised that he didn’t just mean in hockey, but in life. Not only had he messed up his own feelings but now hers too and it was all his fault. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he just wanted to night to end, the moment to pass and a new day to begin where everything went back to normal. Where he could hug and hold her without thinking about a future where she was more than his best friend, where he wouldn’t be squatting on a bathroom floor, holding his drunk y/n’s head in his palm while evidently displaying the fact she had been crying because of him, even worse that Liam had seen her. Even worse that she felt the need to drink until she puked just to get it out her head.  

“You’re drunk, y/n. You have no idea what you’re saying.”  

She raised her hand and gripped his wrist, “I’m drunk, not stupid. You’re annoying…and annoyingly pretty. It’s not fair! Why dont guys like you like me!? Why do guys like Miles like me, he’s so…so lukewarm.” 

She tried to stand up, wobbling but he caught her, his arm snaking around her waist as she put her weight into him. He would always catch her.  

“You deserve better than guys like me, Sunshine.” He unlocked the door, walking with her through the foyer until they left out the front door, “The guy who wins your heart will be so lucky.”  

It was midnight by the time they’d managed to trek home, y/n sobering up as they walked, leaning her body weight less and less into him but they walked hand in hand the entire way. Although it was nearly mid-May, the nights were still chilly, and both regretted not wearing jackets.  

Jack walked her to her back door, her head still a bit fuzzy and his heart aching tremendously. Neither said a word, they gave each other a slight nod but to her surprise he planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he spun on his heel and left out her back gate. 

* 

Life moved on since the party and neither Jack nor y/n bought it up either, the whole event just seemed to fade into a memory vault. Yet too many nights of overthinking, too many hugs that lasted too long and sex dreams after the kiss just kept the feelings on a loop. But enough time passed for them to sit in Jack’s room at the lake house during the summer, chatting like usual and laughing at stupid jokes. Somehow, y/n had convinced Ellen and Jim to let her share with Jack, her point being that sharing with boys was awkward (even though she, Alex and Cole got along perfectly, harmonious to be absolute) and Jack couldn’t bear Trevor’s brutal snoring for another year. So, they let y/n take the mattress on Jack’s floor, emphasising the ‘no funny business’ rule once again. 

Jack tossed and turned in his bed, shorts hiked up his thighs from wiggling so much, sheets twisted and his mind refusing to sleep. He tried flipping his pillow, turning the fan on a colder setting, and counting sheep but he couldn’t stop thinking. 

“Jack, stop moving.” She whispered from the floor, irritated at the rustling. 

“I can’t sleep knowing you have to sleep on the floor.” It wasn’t a complete lie, “Sleep here with me.” 

Opening her eyes slowly, she gulped. He wanted her to share his bed? Even after they made out and she confessed her darkest secrets about it to him? He muttered a ‘Please’ before she threw her duvet off and slipped into his bed, Jack shimmying over next to the wall. They laid on their sides, facing each other with nothing but the whirring fan filling the silence. He tried to keep his eyes steady, to stop them from wandering to her collarbones and cleavage but why did she have to wear a tank top to bed? Was she trying to kill him? The bikinis during the day had him sweating and retreating to his room early to deal with his uncomfortably tight shorts as it was. What was she doing to him? 

“Did you mean it? Did you really like it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.  

She knew exactly what he meant, the only thing they hadn’t been talking about. “Why would I lie to you?” 

“I liked it too. I don’t care if people know we kissed, by the way. I wasn’t ashamed. I just didn’t want to make things awkward, so I didn’t bring it up.” He placed his hand over hers on the pillow, as if to hold it.  

She smiled at him, “It’s okay, as long as we’re cool.” 

He paused and gazed into her eyes, admiring how they shimmered under the moonlight that seeped through his blinds. “You’re a good kisser, dunno if anyone’s ever told you that.” 

“You too,” she giggled, “when did you learn how to make out?” 

“Honestly, I winged it. That was the first time I’ve made out with somebody but I’m glad it was you. You were a lot better than she was.” 

“What happened to her?”  

Jack exhaled, taking his hand off hers and his arm winding around her waist instead, tucking her into his chest. Y/n’s arm snaked around his torso, the two intertwining and slicing the thick atmosphere that once separated them. With that action alone, y/n knew his answer, she was the only woman back in his arms again. As it should have been. As it should be.

The weeks before the annual lake house trip was always the most hectic. So much packing, cleaning, laundry and sorting out car and bedroom arrangements. Ellen and Jim had to spend almost two days brainstorming on how everything would work efficiently and make everyone happy. The more summers that passed, the more they got used to their big group and they didn’t mind anymore. What was supposed to be a one-off turned annual but giving the kids fond memories of their childhoods and adolescence was all that mattered. However, Jack had started dating a girl called Tabby from school which meant for weeks on end he pestered Ellen to let her join the lake house. Of course she was wary about space, but she didn’t want his teenage moods to ruin the summer. The settlement was final, Tabby could join for a week, but she had to find her own way there since their cars were full. Or so Ellen hoped. It wasn’t like she hated Tabby, she barely knew her son’s new girlfriend, but she hoped y/n would still be on the invite and if Jack wasn’t going to relay the message, then she would. She just prayed Jack still remembered he had a best friend.  

Saturday nights were Jack’s turn to wash the dishes, even if he complained every time. It was good training for when he got older and would have to do it anyway. Quinn would do his part without question, Luke too, but Jack moved at one-hundred miles per hour, everything else was far more interesting than chores. Especially Tabby, the girl he thought he’d fallen in love with, thought about all the time, wanted to spend the little moments with. 

Luke entered the kitchen, two plates in his hands and he placed them next to the sink, Quinn following with the last one. Jack scowled, placing a wet plate onto the drying rack. Both Luke and Quinn gave each other a side-eye, nudging each other’s ribs behind the middle’s back, silently gesturing who would speak up first.  

Luke rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “Is y/n coming this summer? She better be, Jack.” 

Jack shrugged, placing another plate to his right, “If she wants to.” 

“Does she know that?” Quinn prompted, folding his arms over his chest.  

“…probably?” Jack’s voice was far too dismissive to his brothers, like he didn’t even care at all, hadn’t even thought about it. Quinn’s tongue poked his cheek, Luke exhaling. 

“You’re such an ass, I’m texting her.” The youngest exasperated, his dirty-blond curls bouncing as he pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers typing rapidly. 

“Mum’s not gonna let you and Tabby share your room, by the way. That only works with y/n/n.” Quinn was his big brother, it was his job to tick his brother off, have the last word and assert that he was in the right. 

Jack placed the final plate on the drying rack, roughly pulling the rubber gloves off and swung around to face his siblings, eyebrows knitted into a deep ‘v’, “You guys suck! Why can’t you be supportive?” He snapped, voice echoing through the kitchen and dining. 

“You’re not seeing the point, Jack.” Luke kept his voice calm, even though his knuckles gripped his phone until they were white, “We don’t care if Tabby comes or not, we care if y/n is. And I just invited her so some friend you are.”  

Quinn was almost shaking, seething as he hissed, “Don’t forget who was here first. Goodnight Jack.”  

He shook his head with disappointment, turning and leaving the room, Luke tailing behind him. The clock ticked in the silence that swallowed Jack, his breathing heavy and rattling in his ears as his eyes caught sight of the photo on the wall. It was from last summer, a group photo of the usual suspects around the fire pit, wrapped up in hoodies and blankets with hot chocolates in their laps. The lawn chairs had all been taken, so he, y/n and Trevor sat on the log, y/n huddled between the two boys with their arms thrown over her shoulders. The same distaste coating his tongue as it did in the moment, something about how close she and Trevor had been that summer. The only thing making it better was how she fell asleep in his bed, in his hold and how she also was not ashamed of kissing him. 

But he had a girlfriend now, so why did it still hurt to think about y/n? 

Seventeen was such a floodgate age. You were in love with living and so dearly connected with souls, afraid to get old but at the same time you were so inconsolably fragile. Y/n’s stomach twisted whenever she saw Jack and Tabby together. Slowly, day by day, she watched him drive further into the distance while she was left in the rear-view mirror. She couldn’t control him; he was free to love and live how he wanted but didn’t think she would be easily replaced. At least she was the first to make out with him, the first to cradle him while he cried, fall asleep with him on sofas and beds, tell him he was pretty but now she was lucky to receive a text back. She hung out with Luke more than him since Tabby entered the picture. She played street hockey with Luke, watched movies with Quinn, FaceTimed Trevor, played games with Cole, texted Alex, spent Sunday’s shopping and took long drives with her friends instead. It was starting the feel like the older they got, the further apart they became. So much so that she found herself texting Cole, Trevor and Alex more than Jack. Hell, they thought they texted her more than they did Jack.  

Trevvy R u lake housing this summer? Pls say yes cuz ik jizzy’s got his new girl and ur always no 1 y/n <3 You’ll have to take that up with Jacko, depends if I still have a place in his heart I just say yes to the invite I hope so tho I miss you and the boys  Trevvy U’LL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART ANGEL We miss u 2 I’m gonna be so pissed if ur not I wont go. Omg u can come to me!!!!  y/n <3 Thanks Twevvy But gross no thanks You should still go tho like don’t let me get between friendships  Trevvy Ur so mean to me :( Dw Tabby already did that We r y/n/n supporters in this house <3333  y/n <3 Lukey’s invited me!! But snore in my ear and I’ll rip your balls off <3 

She was just about to fall asleep, a new excitement flushing now she was officially going back to the lake house and away from the house for another year until her phone flashed. Her brother had only become worse, and she started getting used to the Hughes’ getaway home, that was the scary part. 

Wack Huh🤕 I was gonna call u but its late but im sorry Ik this is poor of me to say over text but it cant wait. Im sorry for kinda just leaving u behind now im w tabby. Idk what was wrong w me but Q and lukey opened my eyes and after thinking i realise ive been a dick abt it. Im sorry for not hanging out with u as much and for not texting or calling, im sorry i haven’t been sitting with u at lunch either. Im gonna go back to how things were w us. Im sorry for not inviting u to the lake sooner and that luke had 2 do it. I do want u 2 come ur my best friend ofc i do, i need u. I wont let it happen again, im so sorry sunshine i love u and u’ll always be my no 1 u were here first <3 

She really didn’t know how to feel. There was no distinctive feeling but as he’d said, they were best friends, and she needed him too and it did hurt. It stung like a bitch but not forgiving and giving him a chance would have stung more. 

Sunshine💪 Thank you You’re forgiven but i miss you so please don’t let it happen again. Idc if you’re with tabby or not as long as you’re happy but you have friends too that love you more than any girl could 

* 

Tabby had arrived at the lake house a week after the Hughes’ and honorary Hughes did. She wasn’t a stranger to his brothers and y/n, but Trevor, Cole and Alex had never seen or met Tabby (only knew the name) so when some girl rocked up at the door, the three suddenly got the memo that Jack’s girlfriend had come to join him on their adventures, and avoided her like the plague, subtly. Y/n, Quinn and Luke, all had given each other looks, knowing that they wouldn’t see Jack for the week.  

So, when Jack yanked y/n into his bedroom one afternoon out the blue, shock slapped her around the face. He closed his door urgently, eyes wide in a panic, his clothes skewed over his room, and he stood skittish in front of his mirror, dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.  

“Be honest, do I look good?” he asked her, biting his nail.  

Y/n blinked, processing how she’d never seen him so unsure of himself. Wanting to impress someone was natural, but Jack’s confidence usually never wavered, especially around people he was comfortable with. 

“Stupid question. You look great, possibly the cleanest I’ve ever seen you.” She stood next to him, like they had done years ago when she cried over a bikini.  

He fussed with his collar, spinning to face her, peering down at the way her eyes softened, “Really? Good, I’d be so lost without you. Why am I scared, y/n? It’s just a date.” 

Her eyebrows raised. Date? Since when did he start planning dates? It couldn’t be helped when you could be in love with your best friend, that slither of jealousy choking her neck. Y/n swatted his hands away from his collar, straightening it out and patting it flat. Her hands slid to his chest, smile tugging on her lips as his hands moved in autopilot to hover over her hips, fingers barely ghosting the fabric of her (his) hoodie. 

“Because you want to impress her. It’s normal, you want her to keep liking you and get to know her more.” She replied gently, watching the way his eyes glued to hers in a trance. 

“You always know what to say, Sunshine,” his voice was deeper than last year, chest firmer and as much as she knew she had to stop enjoying her hands on his chest, she couldn’t back away, “s’one of the things I like about you.” 

Thank the stars he’d closed his door, because if anyone had seen them standing almost chest to chest with hands in places they shouldn’t have been for just friends, the hurricane that would have broken loose would have been disastrous. Yet neither moved, thumbs rubbed circles over fabrics and thoughts spiralled, the same devilish thoughts from Liam’s birthday party. How soft lips looked, how pretty and handsome they’d become, how sharp jawlines were and how alluring eyes had become. Touches igniting the fires than tingled over skin all over again. The aroma of marshmallows that had her dying to bury her nose in his neck. That stupid cologne. How dare he wear it for a woman that was not her. The scent that triggered waterfalls of memories and feelings; him sleeping on her chest, her tucked under his arm. 

“You smell really good, almost familiar.” She mumbled with a smirk, batting her eyelashes at him sinfully. 

His lips quirked, “Marshmallows? I wear it when I need you around.”  

To school, to hockey, to family functions, to parties, to dates, whenever she wasn’t there, the cologne was. It was his own reassurance, comfort. When he’d neglected her before summer, every time he wore the cologne, the smell would bring a longing, a sense of emptiness and he never figured out why. He didn’t care if anyone liked the way it smelled, unless it was y/n. Always y/n. Only y/n. 

She slipped her hand to his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes gradually as he dipped down, wetting his lips. The action felt familiar, the attraction like a Siren’s song as their noses bumped hesitantly, breaths hitting cheeks and lips ghosting, sparks shooting through nerves and through bodies and hitting the fight reflex. She titled her head up, millimetres away from closing the gap and warmth pooling into her lower stomach. He wanted to kiss her again. Again, again and again. Recreate their night all over again and she needed to taste his tongue. But as their lips barely met, his door handle rattled and opened hastily. Jack let her go and y/n pushed him back, both stepping away and creating a sensible distance between the two of them, cheeks flaring at the realisation that they shouldn’t be left alone.  

Tabby poked her head through the door with a smile, “Jack, are you- Oh hey, y/n! Are you okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, sorry I just needed to…ask him something…I’ll, uh, go now. Have fun!” She fumbled over her words, pulling her sleeves over her hands and slipping past Tabby, stumbling into Cole in the hall. 

After leaving Jack’s room in a hurry, she hadn’t a clue where she was going until her legs took her to the back porch, sitting on the porch swing. The sun set in in the distance, the orange and pink hues cascading down the sky and the lake’s water twinkling. She sank back into the cushions with a gentle swing, eyes fixated on Trevor, Luke and Alex playing swing ball down on the grass. There was peace, nothing but quiet for once. She closed her eyes, relishing in the breeze and movement of the swing until the seat dipped next to her. Opening one eye, she was met with Quinn’s comforting figure. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat and swung next to her, watching the boys below hit the tennis ball with too much aggression for what it was worth.  

“You know he’s just gonna keep breaking your heart, right?” He stated, gaze maintaining on the boys.  

She suspired, a bittersweet smile on her lips and eyes, “And I’ll let him every time.” 

Quinn’s heart sank, he’d watched his little brother obsess over her for years, talk about how pretty and cool she was, beg for her undivided attention and fear that she’d like his brothers more. The dramatic switch up hit like a brick, and if it was tough on him, y/n must’ve been feeling one hell of a storm inside. He scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leant her head on his shoulder, sniffing.  

There was nothing romantic about the gesture, they’d known each other for so long it was more comforting in a brotherly way. At one point she may have had the tiniest crush on Quinn, but spending every week with him normalised his presence and spending more time around Jack made the feelings jump from one brother to another.  

“Try not to think about him, hang with the others instead. You’re allowed to have friends too. Jack’s just annoying, remember that.” He reassured, attempting a light-hearted sprinkle of humour.  

* 

Boat days were always highest priority, even if waking up was difficult. She’d slept well for once, considering she was sharing the basement with the boys. She could have shared the spare room with Tabby, but from the kindness of her heart, she let her have the room to herself as she was considered the guest, and because y/n felt awkward. Besides, pillow fights in the basement hit different and Uno when you’ve got to be quiet turned out to be funnier than it should have been. The basement was just the vibe, kitchenette under the stairs, glass sliding doors out into the garden, pool table in the middle, fireplace with a scoreboard on the right side of the doors and a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV on the other side, bathroom in the corner.  

Y/n wasn’t as upset as she’d thought she would have been, seeing Jack and Tabby together. Trevor had consoled her beforehand that she was welcome to join him and the other two on shenanigans if Jack was, in his words, ‘being a dick’. But she wasn’t upset when they all headed out into the lake, Jack and Tabby cuddled up together on one end of the deck while the other hooted and hollered at y/n tearing it up on the wakeboard.  

“Lookin’ hot, y/n/n!” Trevor called, pulling his phone out. 

“When did you get so good!?” Cole’s eyes almost falling from their sockets in surprise.  

Tabby and Jack were in their own bubble, chatting with arms around each other while blocking out the laughter from the others. Though, Jack’s eyes couldn’t stay on his girlfriend for long, they seemed to flicker between her face and the way Trevor caught y/n as she stepped back onto the decking, handing her the towel before it was Luke’s turn. Something about seeing y/n with the guys just irked him.  

The second time Jack found himself licking his teeth was on Tuesday night. The usual suspects circling the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and chatting until their eyes became heavy. Tabby was deep into sharing a story with the group, but it fell deaf on his ears, and apparently y/n’s too. She’d also apparently decided that wearing Trevor’s hoodie was more comfortable than his. Her melted marshmallow had bumped Trevor’s, and the pair were trying to unstick them while suppressing giggles as to not be rude to Tabby. Usually it was himself and y/n trying to stifle laughter.  

Wednesday he’d taken Tabby to a flower show she’d been interested in. But the biggest mistake he’d made was opening his Snapchat to find, via Alex’s story, that his friends, brothers and y/n had gone down to the go karting track without him. In the video was Cole and Trevor pulling up, both boys flashing the camera a wink before he heard y/n voice ring out from behind the camera. 

“That was so hot, Alex send me that.” 

“You could just ask and we’ll do it again.” Cole’s voice muffled by his helmet. 

“You do know your way to a girl’s heart, Caulfield.” 

He had a girlfriend, why was he seething over a few banterous comments? It happened all the time, they were friends! It meant nothing! 

Wednesday afternoon, only a couple of days left until Tabby had to leave and instead of planning how to make her days special, Jack watched his best friend teach Trevor, Cole and Alex how to shotgun a beer from the porch. They all laughed harmoniously, like seventeen-year-olds should, alcohol spraying everywhere when someone didn’t quite make it but grabbing another can from the crate Jim bought them as a treat.  

“Tabs, you wanna go join them? It’ll be fun! Y/n’s super cool, she’ll teach you better than I would.” He interrupted his girlfriend, who was mid-ramble about a concert she was dying to see.  

“Oh, no it’s okay. I don’t drink, but I’ll stay here and watch!” Tabby politely declined, she was too kind, but disappointed when she realised that Jack hadn’t been listening for the past five minutes.  

He stayed, sitting back into the cushions and resting his arm over the back of the bench, eyes still blankly staring at his friends below.

Lukewarm beer pooled down Cole’s throat; his free arm raised in the air as he’d finally been able to successfully shotgun without the drink exploding over himself. The other three cheered, only Trevor left to gain success. He tossed the can around in his palm, puncturing the bottom with the key and tilting his head back only to have it spray over his face and t-shirt, his friends bursting into fits around him.  

In an instant retaliation, he turned to the nearest person and held the can towards them. Beer sprayed over y/n’s t-shirt and hair, earning a squeal from her that rang through the yard. 

“The fuck, Trev!” She swatted his arm away from her, grabbing his can and sticking it to soak Alex instead. Alex ran, only to have y/n chase him with the drink as it rinsed his clothes. 

“You bitch!” It was his turn to take the can and chase Cole, who screamed the loudest blood-curdling scream as the others cackled, holding stomachs and dodging the firing line.  

The evening Tabby bid her goodbyes before Ellen drove her to the airport was the worst moment of Jack’s teenage life. He’d barely seen his friends all day, making Tabby’s last day special before helping her with her bags and giving her a kiss goodbye before he watched his mum’s car drive down the road. He would have joined if his assistance wasn’t needed at the barbecue. Watching his girl leave wasn’t the worst part, it was what came after that. 

He ran his fingers through his hair and stood in the foyer, strangely absent of that empty feeling when good times come to an end, that longing when you don’t know what to do with yourself. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to hurl himself into y/n’s arms, tuck his face into her neck and feel her fingers rake through his hair, tugging gently through the knots while she vented about how stupid the characters in a movie were. But he couldn’t. Was that…wrong? To want such a thing when his girlfriend just left. He wasn’t going to be a cheater, y/n would never forgive him if he did such a thing to anyone, and he wouldn’t forgive himself either. He loved Tabby after all, and clearly y/n loved Trevor’s company better.  

Shuffling through the house and onto the back porch, Jack froze, the light in his eyes dimming, his jealousy growing from a thorn in his side to a leash around his neck upon watching his friends play basketball on the patio. Y/n shot the ball into the hoop, circling the rim before falling in. Trevor and y/n jumped for joy around a defeated Alex and Cole, y/n leaping into Trevor’s arms as they hugged in celebration. Jack grit his teeth, that should have been him spinning her around, holding her waist. But no, it had to be Trevor, his other best friend. 

Actions have consequences, they said. And what they said was right. But Jack still hadn’t entirely grasped that concept entirely. To him, he was being replaced, that y/n didn’t want him anymore now he had a girlfriend.  

* 

After Tabby left, the basement dwellers moved to the spare room, but y/n didn’t retreat to Jack’s. He had half expected her to, but he ended up laying alone, ignoring the texts from his girlfriend and scrolling through photos of himself and y/n, wondering what life would be like if he didn’t have Tabby.  

It wasn’t often y/n woke up in dire need of a drink, especially in the middle of the night. She also didn’t mean to hang around in the kitchen for too long, but the moon just shone beautifully, almost enticing her into her own little world. So much so that the footsteps against the floor startled her, fear running, thinking the worst-case scenario that either Jim or Ellen were about to tell her to go back to bed. But it never came. Her eyes met his in the reflection of the glass and she turned to face him calmly, a small smile on her lips seeing his blue eyes focus on her for the first time in a while. Jack’s body urged; legs restless as they just stood listening to the kitchen clock tick in the dark. Her feet concrete to the ground, with tears welling in his sullen eyes, swift like the breeze, his arms encased around her shoulders, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. Y/n hummed, winding her arms around his torso and listening to the way his heartbeat slowed. Jack could be told a million times that he’d hurt her, but the only way he’d realise was to feel it with his own heart.

“You guys are seeing what I’m seeing…right?” Cole asked, adjusting his seating when the leather starting stinging from the heat.  

Y/n, Quinn, Luke, Alex and Trevor replied in unison with ‘yep’ and ‘yup’, the group blatantly staring at Jack and his new girlfriend sitting at the bow of the boat. After last summer, Tabby had broken up with Jack a couple of months later, something about just not being a fit for each other. Of course, Jack was devastated, but not as much as he thought he’d be which showed a lot about his feelings, but life moved on normally. He still had his best friend, and he still had his family. He still had his constants, especially that constant feeling like he was in competition. Regardless, it wasn’t long until he was laying on y/n’s lap, telling her all about this girl, Ari. And as everyone had assumed, Ari joined their lake house summer for a week.  

“It’s kinda freaky, do you think he realises?” Trevor added, y/n shaking her head at him. 

“Either he doesn’t and he’s really stupid, or he’s done it on purpose. I mean come on, she and y/n look so similar.” Luke said, overly thrilled that he was considered cool enough to be part of their group activities fully.  

“Should I be flattered or worried?” y/n blinked at the couple, noting the familiar bikini Ari was wearing, “I wore that bikini when I was fifteen. He fumbled so badly when he saw it.” 

“Don’t blame him, angel. Had me gasping for air.” Trevor chuckled, y/n slapping his chest. 

“Yo,” Alex spoke up, the group turning to him, “I think Jack may be into y/n but just doesn’t know it.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, kid’s into Ari and all those other girls he talks about. Don’t give me false hope.” She scoffed, folding her arms. They all glanced back at the couple and then at each other. It wasn’t like she was hiding the fact she liked Jack, in fact, she didn’t have to because it had been obvious since they were kids. If anything, they were all rooting for them.  

“No, he has a point,” Quinn eventually piped up, pulling the boat to a stop and swivelling to face the back deck gang, “ever since you were fourteen, he’s been obsessed with you. Like all he would ever talk about. That kid would have never completed that project if you hadn’t been his partner and choked him.” 

“You choked Jack?!” Alex and Trevor’s jaws dropped in disbelief, Quinn, Luke and y/n throwing their heads back and laughing.  

“When do you think he’ll realise that y/n’s actually the love of his life and always has been, like girl’s willing to let him break her heart every year.” Luke jabbed, a cheeky glint in his eyes. 

“I have an idea,” Trevor smirked, arm falling over her shoulders and pulling her into his side, “you guys in?” 

* 

From the get-go, Ari knew she’d never be number one in Jack’s heart. She shared classes with the two since they were freshman, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d seen the way they looked at each other with hearts in their eyes, the way y/n shone like the sun around him. She always envied their friendship, so when Jack asked her out, she didn’t hesitate but the guilt that ate her took the pleasure from it all. It wasn’t fair in her romantic mind. But she did love Jack, he was just oblivious and if it meant Ari had to break her own heart, she was willing to do so for love. 

Ari poked her head out the patio doors, spotting y/n on the porch swing and smiling. She sat next to her timidly, mustering up the words while y/n stuck her nose into the novel she was reading.  

“Y/n? Do you mind if I join you?” Ari’s voice was sweet, quiet compared to the rest of the lake house group.  

“No, you’re okay. Something up?” Her eyes never left the pages, she wasn’t really reading them, just avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, um, is Jack always weirdly protective of his clothes? He’s never offered a hoodie or anything and I was worried it was me?” she asked, recognising the blue sweatshirt y/n wore, Jack’s blue USA Hockey sweatshirt. 

“I don’t think it’s you, he has this weird thing where he likes them to smell and fit a certain way. Or it was a gift.” 

“Weird guy. Does he also not vibe with pet names? I called him ‘babe’ and he screwed his face up! I thought I said something wrong!” Ari just needed to prove her theory. Theory that she was not the one he loved, but the one who just needed to fill the gap. 

“I’m not sure, actually,” y/n closed her book, looking out into the garden while she thought, “he’s not used to things like that, I guess. He might warm up.” 

“But you call him ‘pretty boy’ or, or ‘hotshot’ and he doesn’t seem to mind. Is there a difference?” Ari knew she was starting to slip, sounding more upset than she had meant to, more accusing and she knew y/n wasn’t a bear to poke. 

“I also call Trevor ‘sexy’ and ‘gorgeous’, Cole ‘cutie’. He’s your boyfriend, ask him. If it upsets you, you should tell him because he won't take a hint unless it's hockey, believe me.” She turned to face Ari, surprisingly calm, “Like this one time, we were at a party and this girl had just been dumped, and we kept nudging him to shut up and that it wasn’t the moment for jokes, but he didn’t get it. Literally had to slap my hand over his mouth for him to take the hint.” 

Ari smiled and nodded, thanking her and getting up to leave while y/n opened her book. Data collected and conclusions made. The ambush was odd, especially the questions asked but y/n was in no position to think too deeply about it. Ari and Jack’s relationship wasn’t her business anyway. 

* 

With the sky clear and weather warm, the golf course swarmed with country club members of all ages, kids learning from their parents to the retired living their best lives with a three o’clock beer.  

The usual suspects hung around their current hole, poking fun at Cole’s terrible shot. Y/n also wasn’t the greatest golfer, Trevor was teaching her that day how to play as they went along, claiming to be the best golfer of the group.  

She stood by the tee, correct club in hand with her feet shoulder-width apart. Trevor tried his best to explain what to do but the complex terms he used just made the whole thing more confusing. He stood behind her, arms around hers with her back to his chest, guiding her hands to the positioning on the handle. He walked her through the process, voice rumbling in her ears.  

“Relax, imagine I’m Jizzy.” He whispered, breath hot on her neck. 

“No, I might cum. Besides, he’s got Ari.” She was glad she could make crude jokes with people, and if anyone was going to find it funny, it would be Trevor. 

“Jack would have my head right now if he were here. No way would he enjoy watching this.” He muttered playfully. 

“Yeah, but he sucks and isn’t here, so less talking more teaching, Yappy.” She giggled. 

Jack’s phone flashed, the Snapchat notification that Luke had added to his story filling his screen. While Ari left for the bathroom, he unlocked his phone, desperately opening the story. Luke barely ever posted to his story; he knew they’d gone out but where was a mystery.  

“You’re fucking kidding me.” He grumbled, grip tightening on his phone upon seeing Trevor Zegras with his body wrapped around y/n’s teaching her how to play golf. That was supposed to be him. He was supposed to teach her golf so they could go out and do it together. Until then, he thought the only way to have your heart broken was by being dumped or rejected, but for the first time he understood how y/n must have felt all the times he made an empty promise. It shouldn’t have bothered him; it shouldn’t have made him seethe but there was only so much he could manage before he was going to snap. The more summers that passed, the closer she got to his friends and even closer to Trevor and she never pushed him away, like she was doing it on purpose.  

Then it clicked. They weren’t together, so she was allowed to do as she pleased. She wasn’t confined to a relationship like he was. When he was off the table, she’d retreat, let him go with a bittersweet smile, stay away from causing confusion, but when he was a single man again, she’d be there, smiling when he’d curl up in her arms like old times. Ari may have been right. He called her insecure when she’d raised the issue that she did not believe that Jack loved her the way he thought he did. They’d argued about it, about how y/n had clothing and pet name privileges over her, how she knew he was looking at her over dinner, fire pits, boat days, that he only talked about y/n and never her and the worst topic of all, how y/n was the only woman Jack would allow in his bed. To Ari, the signs were all there. Y/n was not just Jack’s best friend, he just didn’t know it. And it wasn’t y/n’s fault, she’d done nothing wrong. In that moment, Jack realised that if he didn’t wake up, he would lose the woman he loved the most.  

* 

Y/n slowly and softly placed her glass onto the draining board, trying her best to not make a noise because everything was louder at three in the morning for some reason. Three days had passed since golfing, since Ari went home, since the room arrangements changed again. Three days passed and Jack hadn’t made a peep to anyone. 

She sighed, stepping back and hoisting herself onto the island counter, watching the waves in the distance twinkle like a sheet of glitter under the moonlight, the memory of last summer fading back into existence when she’d been watching the moon and Jack snuck up on her. Nothing hurt more than watching yourself slowly drift apart from someone you’d spend every second with. She missed his laugh, the playfighting, when he’d fall asleep on her, pull her into his chest and hug her longer than friends should. She missed the way he’d kiss her forehead, curl up on her lap, his scent and as much as she hated to admit it, his attention, his wandering hands up and down her spine and hips, eyelashes fluttering against her neck and that one open mouthed, shamelessly lewd kiss when they were sixteen.  

“Hey, Sunshine,” his raspy voice echoed in the dark, the window just barely illuminating the room, “can’t sleep either?” 

She peered over her shoulder to the boy leaning against the kitchen doorframe, arms folded over his bare chest and basketball shorts hanging off his hips. Even dishevelled he looked attractive. He pushed off the doorframe, ambling around the island until he faced her, leaning against the sink and blocking her view of the moon. Y/n shook her head at him, kicking her legs slightly just to occupy them from the suffocating gap between them, like a wedge had been jammed to keep them apart. 

“I’m guessing you miss Ari too much to sleep…” she mumbled, voice above a whisper but not loud enough to wake anyone.  

He hung his head before he responded, “I've been thinking about you a lot lately. About us,”  

“Me too, Jack. About if we’re still friends…” she wet her lips, “because you haven’t spoken to me in over a week, haven’t really spoken to me properly for the past couple of years actually. So, what’s up, hotshot? Where did I go wrong?” 

Jack let out a shaky breath and kicked the wedge that separated them away. Hands meeting the cold marble of the island counter and he stood between her legs, eyes coming directly in line with hers.  

“I was supposed to teach you how to play golf. It was supposed to be an us thing.” He kept his voice low as she watched his gaze skip between hers and her lips, his hands shifting closer to her bare thighs. “And instead, I found out, via Snap, that you found a new best friend. I’m okay with you and Trevor being friends, but any closer and that’s off the table.” 

“We’re just friends. You were busy and that was the only time slot open. What’s it to you?” She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. She’d never seen him like that, his forearms tensed and poison dripping from his words, but she truly did not understand what the big deal was. If he could go off all merry with his girlfriend, why wasn’t she allowed to hang out with her friends? They were also being cast aside like she was, so it was logical for all of them to band together and enjoy their summer either way. Plus, they were eighteen, they were getting too old to hold grudges against people, throw tantrums about whose turn it was to play with who.  

Jack’s hands roamed along her thighs tenderly, hooking under her knees and opening her legs further apart, pussy throbbing at the sudden action. Excitement puddled in her stomach when he smoothly pulled her to the edge of the counter until they were close enough to hear their breathing, “I don't like sharing, especially not with hockey guys. You’re my person.” 

“And I always will be,” he’d always been clingy, the king of her personal space but this was a whole new ground he marched on, it was territorial with how firm his stare was, how tight his shoulders and jaw held. She could feel the bubbling heat radiating off his skin, a green-eyed demon flaunting around his shoulders. After Kenna, her envy died into acceptance, but he never accepted that one day she wouldn’t be just his anymore. Not because he had that toxic twang to him, he was just protective of the girl that put up with him happily, blended with his family well, picked him up when he was down, tamed him when he was wild, choked him humble when he was arrogant. He didn’t believe that she deserved any harm or heart break after making his life so much more euphoric, “Jack, are you…jealous?” 

“I dont know, why dont you go ask Trevor, you two seem close lately. Practically tangled in each other by the looks of the photo. Wouldn’t be surprised if you two fucked too since you’ve been all over each other.” A vein pulsed in his neck sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t have found it sexy, there wasn’t anything attractive about being accused but he looked so hot with how defined his biceps were, how his veins popped on his arms and hands. 

Her lips twisted into an amused smile and titter, “Oh my god you are! You’re being ridiculous.” 

He pushed away from the counter, taking a sharp breath and running his hands through his hair before turning back, hands slapping on the counter either side of her, “So you two did? Is that where the hickey came from? Did you go see him? Fuck my best friend because you weren’t getting attention?” 

She only grinned at him. Before summer, she and her friends took a weekend break to New York for Kylie’s birthday, indulging in cute cafes and activities but somehow, Rachel had managed to get them all invited to some random frat party where alcohol was obviously on the table out in the open. She didn’t remember much from the party, but she did remember hooking up with some guy and waking up in her B&B with a purple blotch on her neck. She’d managed to hide it from her parents, but she thought Jack too, but she should have known that nothing slipped past Jack and when he’d asked her about it, he pieced the worst case - and dramatic - scenario together: New York? Trevor was in New York. Girls trip? Weekend away? Funny business, because Trevor was obviously the only man in New York. 

“Oh jeez,” she rolled her eyes, “that really was a girl’s trip, Jack. You saw the photos.”   

“You’re avoiding the question, Sunshine. Work with me.” He still hadn’t raised his voice, whether because he was trying to keep quiet or because he’d never raise his voice at her didn’t matter. 

“Because you’re jealous, I can have sex with who I want, I’m not yours and I never was so why does it bother you so much?”  

He sighed in defeat, hanging his head and resting in on her shoulder while his hands locked on her hips. Y/n didn’t touch him, didn’t speak, let him control his hammering heartbeat and get himself thinking straight before he’d say something he’d regret. She wasn’t mad at him; she couldn’t be mad at him even after he’d accused her of sleeping with Trevor. It wasn’t that deep, he was just jealous for reasons she wouldn’t know until he took a breath, calmed and confessed.  

Jack went back and forth on what he would say. Worst case scenario was she never spoke to him again. Best case scenario was she reciprocated. His thumbs rubbed circles over her shorts unconsciously, as if seeking comfort by finding home on her hips. They’d always find their way to her hips, there was just something that took the weight off his shoulders and she never pushed him away.  

He looked up wearily, chest rising and falling and palm cupping her cheek. She melted into his touch, the beacon of hope that she wasn’t upset. That she still wanted him. Her lips still looked as soft as they always did, inviting and waiting to be blessed and bitten. Eyes waiting on him, half-lidded and searching for reply. He couldn’t be a coward forever, too many times they’d been interrupted and too many times he’d wished he’d just gone for it, followed his heart.  

With his hand tangling in her hair, he leant in, closing the distance between their pining selves, lips meeting for a bruising open-mouthed kiss. Y/n unfolded her arms, enlacing around his shoulders, pulling him in with a low moan emitting from the back of her throat when his tongue lapped hers the way it once did. He kissed her with a desperate yearning, slowly and sloppy, hand on her nape as lips connected and disconnected, tasting each other’s toothpaste with little mewls slipping through from the pleasure embracing them. 

They pulled back, panting but hands remaining latched onto each other, “I'm in love with you. That’s why it bothers me. And I think I’ve loved you since the day you punched me in the face. And I’ve wanted to kiss you again since we were sixteen.”

She smirked. That was so hot, so goddamn hot of him to do with impatient passion driving him into a confession. She wondered what else he would do with enough provoking, what other feelings would he give into, “That all you got? I bet Tre-” 

He kissed her roughly again, just as messy with twice as much appetite in the way his tongue danced with hers. Her hand slid to his hair, tugging and pulling a groan from him while his toyed with the hem of her shirt, his hand moving from her hip, gliding underneath the fabric and feeling up her waist and curve of her spine. They pulled away again, but he didn’t give himself much time to catch his breath before attaching his lips to her neck, leaving butterfly kisses down the column until she moaned in his ear. He nibbled at the spot at the base of her neck, biting and sucking on the skin, leaving a purple blotch in his wake. Y/n held his shoulder tight, continuing to play with his hair with a rousing desire coaxing her core and pussy, begging for attention as his body was just so close. Jack’s hand slipped from her hair to join the other under her shirt, palms groping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, with his lips assaulting her neck, nipping and suckling little red blossoms over the skin as if leaving his mark. Not that she minded, she finally got to be his girl, years of painfully watching from afar and hurting her own feelings rewarded with his tongue running over the spots where he sunk his teeth into her.  

“I wanna fuck you so good you won't remember his name.” He grumbled into her ear, planting a kiss underneath her earlobe and sending jolts through her veins. She let out a whimper, aching for friction between her legs as he kneaded her tits like dough, feeling the smirk on his lips whenever he could get her to submit to a whiny, pathetic noise.  

Letting go of his hair, her lips pulled into a devilish grin and fingers wrapping around his neck, pushing his head from her neck and squeezing at the sides. He huffed in surprise, cock twitching in his shorts and hands dropping from her chest to her hips again. He really hadn’t thought she’d be into anything like that, but he should have guessed since he caught a glimpse of Deja vu. It had been too long since they really talked, did he know anything about her anymore? Apparently not, but it wasn’t like he…disliked it.  

“Do it,” she loosened her grip with honey lacing her voice, sliding her hand to grip his shoulder, “do it, Jack. I’m on the pill. Show me who I belong to.”  

The fire lit inside him and without any ounce of hesitation, he was back to tasting her lips, fingers kneading her thighs and inching up underneath her shorts. He pulled them to one side, brushing his knuckle over her clothed clit, erection hardening with the way she mewled and ground her hips into his fingers. He toyed with the elastic of her underwear, pulling them to one side and ran his fingers through her folds, coating his fingers in her slick as they slipped through smooth. 

“This fucking wet? For me?” He whispered into her lips, middle and ring finger landing on her clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in firm circles as she clung to his shoulders, relaxing into his chest and panting in his ear. 

“Yes,” she sighed, “don’t stop, feels good.” 

 She left languid, messy kisses over his neck, biting when she’d pull a groan from him. No man had ever made her cunt ache to be filled like Jack could. The merciless cries to be filled and stretched out and it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamt about it, thought about it when he’d parade around shirtless and adjusting his swim shorts. Dreams do come true though, her message fell loud and clear into his ears, and his fingers that toyed with her clit sank into her cunt, warm, spongy walls taking him perfectly. Her jaw slacked, a winded breath replacing an elongated moan that would’ve got them caught.  

“Mor…more,” she puffed, her nails digging into his shoulder muscles when his fingers plunged in and out faster, eyes rolling back when they curled into her. He bullied his digits at a fast but steady pace, knowing he’d hit her keen spot when her nails pierced into his skin and her hips rolled to meet his pace, arousal seeping from her.  

He threw his head back closing his eyes, he slipped in her better than he’d imagined, he could do it every day, all day if she’d let him. The sheer salacious yearning that washed over him not enough to tend his fantasies. He needed more, to be inside her, feel his cock be squeezed and hugged as if his life depended on it. Needed to hear his name leave her mouth when he fucked her. His y/n, his person. No, it wasn’t just fucking, he wanted to love her, let the world know who makes her feel good. 

“Fuck this.” He grunted, pulling his fingers out, taking them into his mouth and sucking them clean with low, erotic moans of satisfaction. She whined at the loss of pleasure, pouting and darting back to know why he suddenly stopped only to feel heat rush through her and pussy throb at the sight of Jack pulling his cock out his shorts. With a couple of blissful strokes and lustful gaze boring into her, he lined himself up, y/n placing her hands on his shoulders and giving him consent.  

It wasn’t her first-time having sex, but it already felt better than the last. He pushed himself in slowly, y/n nuzzling into his shoulder as he disappeared into her until bottoming out, gummy walls hugging him with a sensation resembling ecstasy fogging his mind. She broke into a smile, he felt so perfect, stretching and filling her in all the ways she’d hoped and wanted. His pace started gradual, rocking his hips, watching his cock sink in and out with shaky breaths, hands gripping the globes of her ass.  

His pace quickened, her whines muffled by his shoulder, the only sound that mattered to him, “You feel incredible, can’t help myself, y/n.” Rocking into rutting, his cheeks flushed red, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut as his craving tormented him as if he had committed the worst sins of all. 

“Fas-faster, Jack, fuck,” her legs wrapped around his waist, locking her heels together and inhaling his scent as he hit deeper angles. She struggled to keep her voice down, if only she could really let go and let him hear how much she enjoyed the wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out of her sopping folds. His hips thrusted harsh, each fast stroke dragging whimpers every time he hit her cervix, sweat forming on his brow and sticking their skins together.  

His fingers laced in her hair, yanking her face from his shoulder with a mewl and bearing her neck to the open, her eyes squinting closed as he admired his artwork cascading over her skin from earlier. Her cunt ached for him, relished in how he pounded in and out, in and out, squelching echoing into the kitchen. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to, y/n? I wanna hear you say it.” He rasped. 

“You,” she croaked, breasts pressed flush against his chest. She only wished she had taken the t-shirt off to properly feel his skin cling to her, “you, Jack! I've wanted to do this for so long,” 

Her words triggered an animalistic burst of energy, hips thrusting desperately. She’d wanted to feel him fuck her all that time and never said anything. He thought about how many nights she’d spent with her fingers inside herself, moaning his name and cumming at the idea of him. “Takin’ me so well. Made for me.” 

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, slightly louder than she had intended but Jack’s mouth reattached itself to her lips, his grip in her hair falling slack as he kissed her deeply.  

“Trevor couldn't make you feel like this, could he?” he growled, her pants hot on his cheeks as she batted her eyelashes at him, tits bouncing with every consuming buck into her. Her mouth opened to respond, no words falling out except small cries of elation and the pit of her stomach feeling a surge of heat spill into it, like a knot tightening on the verge of snapping. 

His hands massaged her ass roughly, all those days of watching it fit snug in the little bikinis and it was finally in his clasp. The days of containing himself when she’d wiggle on his lap and clueless to how painful his raging erection was. Letting every pornographic fantasy that kept him up at night out in erratic, mouth-watering thrusts on the kitchen island of all places.  

Y/n’s eyes snapped open, the warm and pleasant euphoria in her pussy suddenly cold and empty when Jack pulled out abruptly, pulling her off the counter all-together and harshly spinning her, back against his chest and voice husky next to her ear, “Bend over, sweetheart.” 

With a coy smile, she did as she was told, sticking her ass out into his crotch and tits chilly and squished against the marble. He smoothed his hands over the curves and with his finger pulling her shorts and underwear to the side as before, shoving his cock inside her harder and faster. 

“Oh shit-” she moaned in a hoarse breath, “Please fuck me, fast and hard. Make me cum, Jack! Wanna cum!” 

Biting his lip at her demands, lust glazed over his eyes, “Fuckin’ tease.” Wrapping one hand around her throat, he tugged her back flush to his chest, pelvis bulling into hers as a rapid and feral pace. The only sound bouncing off the kitchen walls being the melody of skin slapping and short, high-pitched whimpers. 

“That's my girl, make such pretty noises for me,” his stomach contorted, burned, he couldn’t let himself cum yet, she felt too good it couldn’t be over too soon. Fingers slipping down the front of her panties, he circled her swollen clit, her head falling back onto his shoulder as his grip around the sides tightened. Sensual, needy pleasure seduced her senses, choking on her saliva in spurts of whines. Pent up feelings and emotions encasing her into a paradise of raw, sloppy sex with her best friend. “Who do you belong to? Whose pretty pussy is this? Who treats you like the goddamn beauty you are?” 

“Pussy belongs to you, belongs to you Jack, you,” her head lulled against him, his grip ever so slightly loosening. The knot building began to falter, harder to hold and keep tight the more he rutted with a brutal stamina. “M’gonna cum, please let me cum.” 

He pulled his fingers from her clit, hand splaying over her stomach as his thrusts became sloppy, languid but deeper and exhilarating. His other hand dropped from her throat, sliding down her chest to grasp her tit as his hips burrowed into her from behind. He wasn’t far off, the pool of heat ready to overflow, pussy clenching around him tight. 

“Squeezin’ me so tight, Sunshine. So fuckin’ perfect,” a strangled moan escaped her lips, heat dripping from her cunt and down her thighs, muscles relaxing into Jack’s body as he held her like a ragdoll against him while he made his last few thrusts, chasing his own release with soft grunts. He shuddered, jaw slacking and flooding her with warmth.  

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He pressed gentle kisses to her jaw, a ring of thick and hot cum soaking his cock. The kitchen fell back into an eerie silence, just heavy breathing and the clock hands reminding them that everything was louder at the unholy hours of the morning and that they both should hope no one heard them, or at least say nothing if they did.  

He released her throat, arms winding around her midsection, nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck while his cock remained nestled comfortably in her. One of y/n’s hands lay over his on her stomach, the other reaching up feebly to pet his hair. They stood like that for a moment, catching breaths in a pleasant haze, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. As satisfying as the high was, as warm as his embrace was, she couldn’t let the thought go. They hadn’t found closure before they lunged for each other, did she let a taken man drive into her or not. The last thing she wanted was to be the other woman, it wasn’t fair on Ari. Sweet kisses littered her neck and up to her jaw, his lips laying the final on her temple before resting his cheek against her hairline. 

“What about Ari?” she whispered, staring out into the abyss of the house, “What are we supposed to tell her now…” 

“Nothing. S’just you ‘n me now…” a weight fell off his chest, finally saying it out loud, making sure it wasn’t a dream. The afternoon Ari left, she’d given him a poetic speech, a much needed one to drill it into his head that everyone was seeing what he wasn’t accepting or letting himself accept. Ari had grown up alongside them too, she’d seen their good days, their bad days, the days Jack pined over her, the days y/n pined over him. She told him to think about who he loved more and always had. Reminded him that love is a constant that sometimes falters, but always bounces back in the end. And that only person constant in his life was y/n. No matter what happened, she was always there, even if it hurt her watching Jack with someone else. And now, he got it. “I love you, a lot. Always have. Just not sure how you feel.” 

“You’re so stupid. You think I kissed you to make your ex jealous for shits and giggles? Let you spend hours rambling about how in love you were with those other girls because I didn’t value your happiness?” she gave a small, airy giggle, “Let you make empty promises that broke my heart repeatedly and still let you cry in my arms? Let you fuck me in your kitchen, and you don’t know if I love you? Jack Rowden Hughes, I fell in love with you the day you told me that your home is mine.”  

“Thank fucking God,” he breathed, craning his neck to capture her lips into a passionate and earnest kiss, no tongue, no teeth just souls connecting. They may have not pulled out and cleaned up yet, time was moving and getting closer to four thirty, but in their world, everything froze and felt as if the universe had fallen into place.  

He pulled away, forehead leaning into hers, “You’ll come watch me play, right? In the NHL?”

“I’ll come watch you fall.” She pulled him into another sincere kiss and for a moment, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

It was October when Jack made his NHL debut for the New Jersey Devils. She was there on draft day; she was there afterwards, and she planned to always be there. Y/n had made it to university for graphic design, coincidentally close to him which worked in their favour. He always joked about how even after she graduated, she could work for the Devils social team, and he’d get on his knees and beg if he had to.  

The crowds were always loud in the Prudential Center, a sea of red and black, chants and cheering with elation for another game. The team entered the ice for warmups, skating in laps, manoeuvring pucks with skilled hand work, and shooting practice before the game started. Y/n could have sat in the family room with the other wives and girlfriends, but when she’d mentioned her weekend plans to her university friends, they’d asked if they could tag along for the experience. So, there they were, screaming and waving at the players, offering trades for pucks and falling in love with athletes, into the realm of hockey men. Jack didn’t need to look hard; he could spot her for miles even in a crowd where everyone looked the same. After taking a couple shots at the net, he stopped in front of her and her squealing friends, tapping the top end of his stick at her and throwing a puck over the plexiglass. There really was no time like the present. All Jack’s nerves faded when she clasped the puck in her hands, looking back at him with a smile and a nod. It was just Jack and his girlfriend, y/n, now against the world.

small worlds taglist | @bunbunbl0gs

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[guttednights]

your bar.

You've worked in the same bar for the past 3 years. It's fairly common for military men to come in and get drinks together. It's always soap, gaz, price, and the one in a mask.

One night you finally speak to the guy in the skull mask. "your name is?" as he looks at you, his cold eyes lighten.

"ghost," he said gruffly when soap elbowed him, he shot soap a glare and sighed making eye contact with you. "Simon. simon Riley." he gruffs.

you can't help but smile. "well then Simon Riley. want your usual?"

"Please," he says coldly

you and your friend spent the rest of the night talking about simon. "god i dont know what it is about him but." "jeez.."

"oh ew! shut up" your friend replies walking to the other side of the bar

you giggle "ah cmon, its not as nasty as you and your thing for that old one.

she giggles. "price is hot because hes a gentle man. simon just looks like he could hurt anyone."

"thats what i like" "feels like hed go to jail for me"

She rolls her eyes "okay mrs delusional."

the next few days some tension between you and simon grew. he cant keep his eyes off you. your literal eyecandy to him. and you notice.

"sarah he keeps staring" you say entering the back to "refill something"

she squeals. "girl hes so into you!"

you roll your eyes, "oh whatever."

Later that night soap walks up to the bar,

"hey y/n, you know my big friend Simon? ya he wants ye number"

your heart practically stops beating. "uh.. yeah sure here" You quickly write it on a napkin and hand it to him. you watch as soap runs away like a schoolgirl giggling to Simon as he hands it to him.

the whole rest of the night you were shocked. The big huffy man you think is hot wanted your number?

around 2 am you jolt awake as your phone buzzes. you grab your phone, its him.

"hey gorgeous its simon, or "big masked man"

"Hi simon" god you cant believe this is happening is this real?

"you should be asleep. what you doing up?"

ur heart flutters, (GOING FERAL LIKE YES PLS BOSS ME AROUND) "couldnt sleep"

"any reason why?"

(yes Simon ur the reason why) "nope no praticular reason why, just one of those nights."

"alright. want to get coffee tomorrow?"

"coffee?!" you think to yourself "Omg it's happening.."

"id love to get coffee"

"great. ill see you at happy cafs tomorrow at 9 am."

"see you there"

your freaking out literally, the man of your literal dreams is asking to go out on a coffee date?! Is it a date..?

"is this considered a date?" you text him a few minutes later

"yes, sweetheart. it's considered a date lol"

you throw your phone across the room screaming and kicking your feet. you can't sleep the rest of the night. too busy thinking about what to wear. finally at 6 am you give up and hit the shower, then walk to your closet. "god do I wear a dress? jeans hoodie?" finally you decide on a long-sleeved black dress, perfect for winter. you straighten your hair, do your makeup, and hype yourself up.

8:55 and you're a minute away from the cafe when u see him pull up. your heart drops. you're so excited yet so nervous, u practically black out until you bump into him.

"op, watch out there" he chuckles, "looking at your feet while you walk sweetheart or?"

you chuckle, "Sorry lost in my thoughts." sweetheart?! You can't help but blush as he puts his hand on the lower part of your back and directs you inside. you both sit down at a booth and a waitress comes over. you both order and wait.

you can't help but stare at him, even tho you haven't seen his face his eyes just capture you.

"I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart,. I can't keep my eyes off you at the bar,"

"might as well claim ye before you are no longer available" he smirks as you blush and look away

you spend the next 3 hours just talking getting to know him. And before you know it, (in a few weeks of course) you are dating, officially his. the man of your dreams is officially yours.

side notes: i dont know if i like this tbh. it feels really long and i almost lost what else to say. if u want a part 2 (MAYBE SMUTTY VERS. i can do it lmk!!!)

[deadsetobsessions]

A click. The closing and opening of a camera shutter. The whirr of film as it slides across the inner workings of his camera.

Timothy Drake heaved himself off of the concrete roof as soon as the vigilantes left his eyesight. He swaps the film roll, placing the used one inside of the tin with a barely restrained grin. He’d gotten good shots tonight- a confrontation with Harvey Dent, batarangs swooping to cut the new Robin free- and Tim was excited to race back to his dark room in order to develop those candids.

He climbs down the side of the building, the spelunking gear he’d splurged his parents’ money on working wonderfully on Gotham’s stone and concrete buildings.

“Mom, I want to be just like you guys!” He’d said, and his mom agreed to spare no expense for his new hobby. Well, their secretary did, with his parent’s disinterested permission. After all, spelunking is sometimes needed for artifact digs… probably.

Besides, the moment he had brought up Bruce Wayne’s propensity for “spelunking,” his father had immediately sent him more cave scaling stuff in order to “network with the other successful businessmen, Timmy!”

Tim slides away from the alley with full awareness. Even in Bristol, one had to be careful to avoid the multitudes of goons out and about. The Narrows are definitely worse than Bristol and Tim wasn’t about to let his hard work be taken away just like that. As he trudged home- taking a taxi once he was in a slightly more “trustworthy area”- Tim became slightly lost in his thoughts about the identities of Gotham’s vigilantes. Technically there’s only two.

Tim knows there’s three.

Batman.

Robin.

Nightwing.

Bruce Wayne.

Jason Todd.

Dick Grayson.

His sharp mind, now assuaged from the mystery of their identities, worked hard to match the fights he witnessed to the injuries the prolific Wayne family hid the next day.

Timothy Drake thinks he’ll never get bored following his vigilantes.

——

He’s bored. He’s so irrevocably, irredeemably bored.

Tim had been so excited to go, too! Perhaps for different reasons than everyone else because he was here to observe his heroes out of their masks, not for the Annual Wayne Gala that’s the end-all of high society life. As in, if you weren’t invited, that’s the end of your social life. Bruce Wayne held high society in his palms and Tim is only fifty percent sure he knew and/or cared. Regardless, he was prepared to be a pod-son to his parents’ fake good-parents act, and accordingly suffered thirty minutes of cheek-pinching and fake laughs just for the opportunity to see the three Bats in one place.

They’re not here. They won’t be here for another twenty minutes.

Anyways, he’s bored and irritated. Definitely annoyed enough for some bad ideas.

And Tim might not be aware of this fact about himself until much later when he’s more self-aware, but a bored and irritated Tim Drake is bad news for everyone.

He takes after Janet Drake, after all, and Janet Drake is only after Bruce Wayne in influence and cunning.

And his heroes, his beloved heroes, are the targets of his ire tonight. Tim smiles wider, pod-person smile widening to a baring of ravenous teeth incredibly off putting on a nine year old, and immediately changes course towards the delicate jello squares sitting at the buffet table.

The Waynes will be learning the importance of punctuality at their own galas by the time Tim’s done. He swears it. He even has a get out of jail free card!

Just. A small bit of petty revenge.

Tim nabs a bowl full of the jellos, snacking on one as he makes his way to the Wayne family’s most favorite balcony. Everyone knows it’s the one the family members go to when the Gala gets overwhelming. It’s an unspoken rule that no one else may enter it. Tim slips around the blind spots in the cameras.

High society might call someone a bitch in forty different ways, all hidden behind silk smiles and false eyes, but they’d respect the oddest things.

Tim… doesn’t care. He’s been breaking rules since he was seven.

He sets to his task, setting the jello cubes in the places he’d calculated that Jason or Bruce or Dick might step on. Mild revenge, yes, but Tim doesn’t want to bother Alfred too much. The butler had looked a bit tired earlier. Task done, Tim squeezes back into the party and smiles like his life depended on it.

“Brucie!” His dad boomed, and Tim felt his smile widen once more.

“Jack!” Batman’s Brucie personality bounced into the ballroom as the party kicked back up with the host’s presence. “How’ve you been, old chap?”

“The digs have been very fruitful!”

“I see you’ve brought someone with you today! Well, other than your strikingly beautiful wife, of course!”

“This is my son, Timothy!”

“Hello, Timothy. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Oh. My. God. He’s shaking hands with Batman!

“Hi. I’m Timothy Drake.”

“Oh my gosh, Tim!” His mom laughs, fake nails and laugh digging into his shoulders. Oops. Too informal.

“It’s alright.”

“BRUCE!”

Oh my god, it’s ROBIN. Tim’s smile twitches, barely containing his squeals.

“Jaylad? What’s wrong?”

“Someone left jello cubes all over the balcony!”

“What?” Bruce (Brucie, Tim decides is the name of the mask) turns to his parents and excuses himself.

“Mom? I’m going to go network with Bruce Wayne’s son.”

No, he’s not. He’s gonna go watch them lose their minds.

“That’s my boy!” His dad claps him on the shoulder and shoos him off. His mom narrowing her eyes at him but ultimately dismissing him.

Perfect. By the time he gets there, he hears Nightwing- Dick Grayson, oh my god!- asking “O” to figure out who left all those cubes on the floor.

“Drake?” Ah, shit.

“Weren’t we just talking to him earlier, B?”

“Yes, but I haven’t got the slightest idea why he’d leave jello cubes all over the place.”

“Assassination attempt?” Jason asks.

“Whatever it is, it ruined my running shoes!”

“Dick, please, just wash it off or give it to Alfred.”

“Ugh, we can just go ask him.”

“And make a scene?” Jason sounds eager.

“No. Alfred ordered us specifically not to.”

Silence. Tim grins and slips away, making his way through and voiding the cameras as usual.

—-

“Timmy!”

Tim smiles politely at Brucie Wayne while inwardly cheering. His dad looks at him with stars in his eyes and leaves him to work his magic.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” Pod-person smile!

“This is my son, Jason. And this is Dick.”

“Hi. I’m Jason!” He holds out a hand for Tim to shake. Dick smiles at him and Tim thinks he might expire on the Wayne’s ballroom floor.

“Hello,” Tim suppresses his urge to scream excitedly. “I’m Timothy Drake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Woah, you sound so stiff.”

“Jason!” Brucie Wayne chides. “Anyways, Timmy, you looked like you had something to tell me earlier. Something wrong, kiddo?”

No, no he didn’t. But… they don’t know that he knows their secret. And they don’t know he knows that they don’t know.

Tim acts confused, but then clears up with his expression like he just thought of something.

“Oh! I was wondering why you were late, Mr. Wayne. Did Batman stop you on the way back?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I know you don’t really like Batman, Mr. Wayne,” Tim cackles inwardly. “But he saves you a lot. Were you stopping crime?”

“I… I’m not Batman.”

“Well, I know that,” Tim huffs. “It’s just weird no one’s seen you and Batman in the same room.” Tim cheerfully ignores the alarm making its way onto the trio’s faces and his dad’s frantic, further away, cut it out motion. “But obviously that’s because Batman’s busy putting on his gear, right?”

“And how do you figure that…?” Dick asks, tense.

“Uh, he always knows when you’re in trouble? He always comes in minutes of you guys getting held hostage. Is his base on the manor grounds? Oh, is it a secret that you’re funding him? Don’t worry! I know how to keep a secret! Can you tell the new Robin that I think he’s the best?” Tim grins cutely up at Batman. Ah, he means Brucie Wayne.

“Sure can, kiddo! Don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Jason swoops in, grinning back Tim.

Eeee!

As he nods, Tim can’t help mentioning the cubes. “Oh, sorry about the cubes! I thought I’d be able to track them with their shoe print if Batman and Robin came to save you guys but I guess that wasn’t going to happen. I’m really sorry!” He uses the “cute duckling” face and Dick visibly melts.

“No problem, Timmy! You should come over to play Clue with us sometime! I think you’d be good at it.”

“Oh! Really?” His words becomes a bit more genuine. “I’ve never played it. My mom and dad aren’t around much so. Um. Would it be okay if we do?”

“This weekend.” Brucie Wayne’s voice suddenly became more firm. “I’ll talk to your parents about it.

—-

As Tim waves the Wayne’s goodbye, he hears from Dick, “You only like him because he said you’re the best.”

And Jason’s reply, “Because he’s got good taste,” made the rest of his night. Not week, because tomorrow, he gets to poke around Wayne manor again!

[ghostingssdeadlinee]

SFW ALPHABET - SAM WINCHESTER

Warnings: cursing, made some nsft jokes.

AN: he’s so girlfriend <3333

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s not very big on PDA, like hand holding and small kisses anywhere is great. But if you wanna make out just tug on his arm, go to a reserved era, and start kissing, could never say no too that.

In private tho, very much on quality time and physical touch, like sit on his lap while he’s researching and your read a book, or let him lay on your lap while he researches and you play with his hair, he’ll die.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Very caring, if you like something special he definitely looks it up so you two can talk about it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Love it, mostly for sleeping. (Keeps the nightmares away)

I mean man’s massive so of course he’s going to be big spoon. But him laying on your chest/in the crevice of your neck, you talking about something you like or just your day, and you (again) playing with his hair. Melts.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh god, of course he wants to settle. Can’t because he constantly has to fight god and Lucifer and just every evil thing ever. But he’d want to more then anything.

Can’t really cook, I mean he knows some of the basics. He had to make food for him and dean once in a while.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

No :3 (didn’t feel like writing this sorrrryyy :333)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

With everything happening, with the apocalypse, it kind of slipped his mind. But once he remember? Oh hell yeah.

Probably like 2-4 years into the relationship.

(Wears the ring on a necklace around his neck)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Don’t get me wrong he’s a big boy and he can be violent, like I’m fighting or in *other* ways, but he’s so gentle with his partner.

Emotionally, can take a while to open up, but sometimes, late at night on especially after hunting nights, you’ll be awake, you on his lap, looking at his beautiful eyes and wiping his tears away as he talks about his past and current pain.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Love them.

After killing some monster, a long and tired yet tight hug.

Hello hugs, goodbye hugs. ‘I love you’ hugs. ‘Don’t worry I’ll come back’ hugs.

Hugs from behind, head onto of yours.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Honestly depends, but probably after you nearly died in a hunt.

“Sammy, I’m alright, I’ll probably get some scars but I’m okey.”

“… okey, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He knows you’ll shot it down the second someone tried to flirt with you. You’re loyal and he knows that.

But sometimes… a guy flirting a little bit to aggressively and won’t take the hint you spelled out too him?

He gets up behind you, death stares the guy, and arms around your waist.

“Oh hi Sammy :D!”

“Hey sweetheart, care to come back to me and dean?”

“Yeah-“

“tHeIr TaKeN, mAtE.” The creep says.

“Yeah, by me.”

If the creep still can’t take the hint, guess who has too get bailed out of jail the next morning! Wooho! Sam!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

From him, on you:

mouth? Obviously. Quick or long make outs are both great. Speaking of making out? Weekly basis. Daylily if you’ll let it. (And if a case isn’t in the way)

Neck kisses? YES YES YES

Forehead. Protective !!!

Shoulders? Also protective!!!! A little ‘hi’ from behind.

From you, to him:

Neck kisses, instant puppy dog eyes.

Nose kisses, if you can reach that is, just. So sweet.

Forehead kisses, Again, if you can reach, so protected.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Really sweet, try’s his best, really wishes to be a dad some day.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Even if you didn’t fall asleep with him somewhat cuddled up with him, you will be.

Nearly always wake before you, probably back from his run. Mumbling about ‘breakfast’.

“Morning baby, you want breakfast?”

You, totally still half asleep, “… yeah.”

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Even if you are a night owl, if it’s hunting time, you’ll go to sleep first.

But if it’s just normal, he’ll have you lay on him. Kissing your head, watching tv till you both fall asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Definitely waits, he feels like if you knew everything maybe you’d see him for the freak he seems himself as.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends on if a hunt is going wrong or if he has a lot bubbling up. But I’d say he’s not very easily angered.

Well, unless someone talks shit about his family, including you. Their face will never look the same.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Really tires to remember everything. Wants to remember every single thing so that he can bring it up in conversation. So you know he’s listening.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Anytime you had anything like a mundane or normal life. Just cooking together? Shopping for groceries? Doing chores together? All his personal heaven.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He understands that you can protect yourself, you’re a hunter after all, but of course he still covers you whenever he cans.

Oh yeah, and chuck forbid something happens too you, everyone’s dead.

When he can, he cuddles you, hugs you, arms around you and head right on top of yours, walking around. Feeling like if anything would even try he could protect you.

I can see him thinking that he doesn’t need to be protected but saving his ass last minute will make him fall in love with you all over again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates? Tries too make them special when he can, but the best you could get on the road is probably just a movie marathon or a diner date with breakfast (and hopefully no dean)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Well, if we over look the demon blood thing, he definitely bites his nails.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Anything but his hair, he really doesn’t care for, well, of course he works out, needs to be fit for demon hunting but other then that he really doesn't care.

He really doesn’t like people cutting his hair, no hair stylist, not dear old dad (fucking John), not Dean, I think the only person, alive, he’d let cut his hair is you.

Hair holds memory’s and after losing so many people it just feel’s terrible having it cut. Like he’s forgetting them.

But with you it’s different, you want to braid his hair? Sure. Want to style it? Hmm okey. You think it look good a little shorter? Only for you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Definitely, sometimes he goes of on hunts alone and if he can’t at least hear your voice from a call or two, expect a very clingy Sam when he gets back.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Uses his puppy dog eyes to get anything he wants from you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I mean as long as your not a demon you’re okey??

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Always a long nap after a hunt with you, of course.

Doesn't have a sleep schedule but tries to get at least 4 hours of sleep.

[pluto-supremacy]

YOUR VI JAIL FIC WAS SO GOOD AND THE HEADCANONS WERE SO SO ACCURATE. :'( IF POSSIBLE, CAN YOU MAKE A P2 TO HOW THEIR LIFE IS OUTSIDE OF PRISON WHEN THEY MAKE IT OUT? or an angst with caitlyn being blackmailed by the warden to only let one prisoner out? :3 said one being vi, and vi having to abandon reader?

Vi Fic: Bye Bye Bun

➼ Aaaah thank you so much! I'm so glad so many people liked the Stillwater headcanons^^ I was afraid my Vi was going to be soooo out of character. I decided to write some angst first >:) if this fic does well or I get another ask I'll also work on life after Stillwater, give you guys some fluff after this

➼ Continuation of Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ No beta we die like Claggor (I'm running out of people who die in the series-)

➼ Warnings: None! Bit of a longer fic for you guys today, enjoy!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

The sound of knuckles meeting hard concrete echoed throughout the cell block, small grunts following close behind. "You know we don't get clean bandages for another two weeks Vi, your knuckles are going to get infected at this rate." you called out. Suddenly the pounding stopped and a small chuckle was heard. "Don't worry about me bun, just trying to blow off some steam," she said, pacing around her cell instead of beating up a wall. "You should really get some sleep. Long day tomorrow"

"No such thing as a short day here." you groaned. Carefully you laid down on the ground of the cell. Vi's was only a few doors down, close enough to talk just above a whisper but way too far away to see each other. Both of you always slept against the walls that faced each other. It was the closest thing to sleeping next to each other in this shithole. Aside from whenever you two napped during free time of course. Even then Vi stayed wide awake to ensure you were okay.

"Goodnight Vi, wake me up if anything happens, okay?" "I will Y/N, I promise"

That was nearly two hours ago. You were sound asleep by now, the cold, hard floor no longer keeping you up. It was something every prisoner in Stillwater had to get used to. Mattresses weren't provided. The few that did get a thin mat to sleep on at night only got one after a lot of medical visits and several notes stating they needed one for medical reasons. You and Vi weren't so lucky to have any notes. Still, there were worse things here. Like the food. That's why any food or snacks that were smuggled in were high value items. Currently you had a packet of chips hidden under a loose brick right where you slept. You scored them a few days ago and wanted to surprise Vi by sharing them tomorrow.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, the clack of heels filling the halls. Caitlyn stopped in front of Vi's sell, her hood still up. "What the hell do you want?" Vi asked, glancing over at the taller woman. "Your help. You beat up an inmate, I needed to question him about a crime scene from yesterday. Why did you break his jaw?" "Because I wanted to." She responded with a small shrug, disinterested in whoever this enforcer was. "Why are you in here?" Caitlyn tried again, looking over the file in her hands. "For my sunny personality." Vi shot back immediately.

Caitlyn shook her head, sighing. "This was a waste of time." she closed the file and her journal, starting to walk off. Maybe she could find away around a broken jaw, pen and paper perhaps. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Give Silco a kiss for me on that winning eye of his." that was what caught the enforcer's attention. Turning around she walked back to Vi's cell, getting a bit closer to the bars. "Silco? The industrialist?" "Hardly what I'd call an industrialist." She scoffed, leaning against the bars. That's when the other woman held up something that caught her eye.

In Caitlyn's journal was a picture of a spray-painted monkey. Just like the ones Powder used to make. "Where did you get this?" Vi asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "My question first. The inmate worked for Silco?" "Everyone in here does. You of all people should know that. Now where did you find that?" "It was at the crime scene, this is evidence" Caitlyn responded. She had the upper hand here now. "If I'm to believe you about Silco, I'm going to need proof."

A way out. Vi could get both of you out of here. "I can provide you proof. Just, not from in here" she gestured to the bars around her. "And," she began to add on "I need another inmate. Inmate 381. I'm not leaving without her." Caitlyn seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she turn and left without a word. What that meant, Vi had no clue.

Caitlyn had ran off back to the warden, forging papers along the way for the release of two inmates. She needed Vi's help to track whoever this person was down, so if someone else had to come along, so be it. As she put the papers down on the warden's desk, he seemed to lazily look over them. "I have orders to release inmates 381 and 516." she spoke up. He hummed in thought before shaking his head. "I can only release one." "What? It says right there-" "I can read. But I'm only releasing one. Pick." "..inmate 516."

So when Caitlyn returned and opened Vi's cell, she immediately ran to your cell. Or at least tried to. The enforcer stopped her a few steps in. "The warden only let me release one of you. You understand that-" "No I don't! This wasn't part of the deal!" Vi went to grab the collar of Caitlyn's dress, the other wrapping her hands around Vi's wrists as she was pressed against the wall. "You will-" "If you try anything I will make sure you're put back behind bars and you never see that other inmate again." Cait rushed out. It wasn't what she wanted to resort to, threats, but it seemed to work.

Almost instantly Vi's grip loosened, slowly setting Caitlyn back down on the ground. Leaving you...

"Once we're done, you let her out. Immediately. No excuses, exceptions, or delays. And I get to say goodbye." Vi demanded. That was fair, anyone could agree to that. Thankfully Caitlyn began nodding, dusting her dress off. "Go ahead then. Afterwards we need to get going to the Undercity."

This was going to hurt.

Vi walked over to your cell, kneeling down at the bars. You were still all curled up, dead asleep. She gently knocked on the bars. "Bun..bun you gotta wake up." That was odd. Vi's voice sounded so close...as you opened up your eyes you saw your girlfriend just on the other side of the bars. There was no quicker way to wake up than seeing your lover free from her cell. "Vi! You escaped! How-" you were cut off by seeing Caitlyn standing behind Vi.

"Who is that?" "Y/N, I can explain." "Vi, who is that!" you were shouting now. You didn't even fully realize it. "She's the one that got me out-" "So now you're going to get me out?" you interrupted. Seeing the pain flash on Vi's face told you everything that you needed to know. "You're leaving me.." your voice was barely audible, but Vi caught every word. She could feel her heart shattering as she saw the tears form in your eyes. "It's only for a little bit. The warden wouldn't let us both out, once I'm done helping Caitlyn we're coming right back for you, I promise."

You wanted to believe her. Vi had never lied to you before, why would she start now? Maybe it was the fear of never seeing her again. Or maybe it had to do with the enforcer standing behind her. Caitlyn was beautiful, you had to admit, so what if...

"No, no this isn't right. Vi you can't leave me here!" you shouted, crawling up to the bars and reaching out to grab Vi's wrist. "Vi you can't leave me! Please don't leave me!" the tears finally began rolling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Vi's own eyes were starting to gloss over with tears. "I'm coming back for you, Y/N. I swear on my life I'm not leaving you. It'll be a few days tops." "What does she," you nodded your head towards Caitlyn "even need help with, huh? What are you going to do for her?"

That cut deep. Vi tried not to take it to heart as she stood up, pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm coming back for you." she repeated, steeling herself to actually leave. To not fall to her knees and tell Caitlyn to find someone else. This was your guy's chance of freedom. Even if this hurt you now, it was better in the long run. Everything would be better when you two could be together outside of Stillwater. "Bye bye, bun. I'll be back for you" and with that she turned around and started walking away. Vi knew if she turned around to look at you one last time, she'd never leave.

That's when the shouting started.

"Vi! Vi turn around right now! You can't leave me here!" you were standing up now, having an iron grip on the bars. Almost trying to bend them out of the way so you could run to Vi. Unfortunately you weren't that strong and the bars weren't that weak. "Violet don't leave me!"

Vi quickened her pace, rushing towards the elevator. Your voice was starting to blend with Powder's the day they were separated. It was all too much. She was going to find Powder and come back for you. Everything would be okay, everything would be right. As the elevator doors closed, she heard one last thing. Yours and Powder's voice were nearly indistinguishable from one another as you yelled out:

"TRAITOR!"

[nilolemillion]

Let’s get one thing straight (very unlike me): Batman loves his kids. All of them. He’d die for each one in a heartbeat (of course not kill for them, cough cough Jason). But if you think for one second that Bruce Wayne, the guy who regularly dresses as a bat and fights crime at 3 AM (cough cough insomniac furry.), has a favorite BatKid, then clearly, you’ve never met his children. He doesn’t have a favorite, not because he loves them equally, but because none of these potatoe pie pumpkin cutie-headed chaos gremlins deserve to be his favorite.

Let me explain.

Dick Grayson (WOOP WOOP that’s the sound of that police. Yes Karen, I know he’s no longer an officer, NO KAREN I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.):

The first pancake. The golden boy. Everyone assumes that Dick has a special place in Bruce’s heart because he was the first Robin. He’s charming, he’s capable, and he smiles like he’s got a fucking sponsorship deal with Colgate. But let’s be real, this guy left the nest the second he could, started his own superhero gig in Blüdhaven, and still occasionally shows up to remind Bruce that he doesn’t need him (yes king, show your independence, love that for you.) And you know Dick is the type to throw that ‘you’re getting old, B’ line out there just to twist the knife. Bruce loves him, but how can he be the favorite when he’s busy playing Batman-lite with better hair?

Jason Todd (My personality favorite zombie, resuscitated character in the whole world, I love him so much and all the Outlaws.):

Oh, Jason. The problem child. The one Bruce failed, died, and came back with a vengeance (literally). You’d think after all that tragedy, Bruce might go a little easier on him. But Jason? This kid shows up at family dinners with guns blazing, ready to debate the morality of lethal force like it’s Thanksgiving dinner conversation (and it is, I did it and it was quite fun.) Sure, Bruce would die for him (again), but Jason pushes every button Bruce has like it’s his job. One minute he’s trying to be the better vigilante, the next, he’s making Gotham’s criminals wonder if Batman has gone completely off the rails. If Jason’s Bruce’s favorite, it’s in the ‘how are you still alive and not in jail?’ kind of way.

Tim Drake (DC DROP ANOTHER CANON ILLUSTRATION OF TIM BEING A CUTE LIL STALKER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!):

Tim’s the brainiac of the family, the kid who deduced Bruce’s secret identity with zero help. Naturally, you’d think this would earn him some serious brownie points. But here’s the thing, Tim works way too hard. He’s got all the signs of a caffeine addiction (which is completely and absolutely understandable, he’s just a little silly and caffeine addicts are hot, yes I am too), zero concept of work-life balance, and is always trying to out-detective Bruce. Yeah, Bruce admires his dedication, but let’s be honest: Tim’s the kid you have to physically shove into bed because he thinks sleep is a myth. Bruce is just trying to prevent this kid from burning out before he’s 30. How can Tim be the favorite when Bruce spends most of his time making sure he doesn’t turn into an insomniac vigilante-zombie?

Damian Wayne (I’m literally making my birthday party theme of him, that should explain enough.):

Ah, Damian. His literal blood son. You’d think that alone would give him a shot at favorite-child status, right? Wrong. Damian is an adorable, pint-sized murder machine with a superiority complex the size of Wayne Manor. Bruce loves him fiercely, of course, but Damian’s idea of father-son bonding is training in deadly combat and arguing about why his assassination techniques are totally valid. Plus, he’s got that whole ‘I’m the heir to the world’s deadliest league of assassins’ thing going on. Sure, he’s Bruce’s kid, but you know he’s never going to let Bruce forget it. Not exactly favorite material when he’s constantly plotting world domination during family movie night. (Dw, he won’t act on it, Alfred made very clear that the batkid who dares dominate the world will be banned from his pastries. Besides, he’s too busy scratching Titus’ belly, he doesn’t have time to dominate the world. PRIORITIES BITCH.)

Cassandra Cain (I stan her more than I stand my own life. Help. I literally crocheted a plushy of her.):

Cassandra is probably the least rebellious out of the bunch, which should give her an edge, right? Wrong again. Cass may be quiet and respectful most of the time, but when she does go rogue, it’s on her terms, and it’s not just a small rebellion. No, Cass will disappear for weeks on end, take down a crime syndicate by herself, and then show up like it’s no big deal. Bruce can’t even stay mad because she’s so good at what she does. But Cass’s habit of ghosting the entire family and dealing with things solo? Yeah, it keeps her out of the running for favorite. Plus, she’s secretly the most dangerous one, and Bruce can’t play favorites with someone who could take him out without even blinking.

Duke Thomas (He’s was the sunshine I was midnight rain. DC DROP ANOTHER CANON ILLUSTRATION OF ISABELLA WITH DUKE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!):

Duke the daylight protector of Gotham, which is cute and all, except that Bruce has no idea how to parent in the daylight. Duke brings this bright, positive energy to the BatFamily, which sounds great in theory, but this is Bruce we’re talking about. The guy who lives for darkness and brooding. Bruce loves Duke’s optimism, but it’s like trying to teach a vampire to enjoy the sun. Plus, Duke has a habit of questioning everything, and sure, Bruce appreciates his independent streak, but do you really want a favorite who keeps making you reconsider your life choices?

Stephanie Brown (My sweet dear and beloved purple queen, I love her so much.):

Not an adopted batkid, her mom is alive I think… But I don’t give a duck KAREN. Stephanie is the wildcard, the one who does whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and somehow gets away with it. She’s staged fake deaths, gotten fired from being Robin, and still keeps coming back for more. Stephanie’s whole existence is an exercise in chaos theory. Bruce loves her resilience and her ‘never-say-die’ attitude (literally), but how can she be his favorite when her middle name might as well be ‘Loose Cannon’? She’s the kind of kid who’ll fight crime while live-tweeting it. Yeah, Bruce loves her, but he’s not rewarding that kind of energy with a favorite child title. (I’m still confused about her age thingy.)

So no, Bruce doesn’t have a favorite. Because how could he? His kids are walking, talking disasters, each one a different flavor of chaos. Bruce loves them all more than anything in the world, but picking a favorite would be like trying to choose between different natural disasters. Earthquakes, tornadoes, volcanic eruptions, they’re all beautiful in their own destructive way, but you wouldn’t want to pick one to live through. In the end it’s about Bruce somehow surviving all of them.

[joocomics]

ಬ why did you drink?

pairing: coworker!jiseok x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 1.2k

contains: light enemies to lovers trope, exhibitionism kink, alcohol consumption, oral sex (f!rec)

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

The worst thing that could happen is the bottle to point at you, and that’s exactly what happens. It seems that you can never hide from Kwak Jiseok.

Well, technically he didn’t do anything this time - it’s not his fault that the bottle stopped where it shouldn’t, unless he’s secretly gifted with a superpower you were not aware of, and he craved to get on your nerves even outside of work.

Nevertheless, you’re frustrated - with his smug smile, almost devilish sparkling eyes, plump lips that you keep seeing in your dreams.

“Ohhh, I can’t wait to see this.” Seungmin, a mutual friend of yours, bursts out from the circle you were sitting in, but your friend bumps the guy’s shoulder to shut him up. He’s not intimidated by her warning though, and begins to chant at you and Jiseok to kiss.

Of course, everyone else starts to do the same.

You look at the shot sitting in front of you on the floor, then at Jiseok, then back at the shot again.

He keeps staring at you with a challenging expression, secretly enticed by how long it takes you to make a decision.

You pick up the glass and gulp the shot, scrunching your face. The group instantly hoots disappointingly at you.

“Damn, sorry dude.” Amused Seungmin pats Jiseok on the back while he on the other hand grins unbothered.

The next moment it gets worse.

When you see Jiseok turning to the girl on his left and kissing her with an open mouth, you wish there was a way the ground could open and swallow you whole. Your insides begin to burn from the sight of his hand on her cheek, and his tongue sliding between her lips; it burns just the same as when your throat was inflamed by the alcohol seconds ago, but everywhere. And although you know you shouldn’t give in to the emotion, because there’s nothing between you and there never was, you still let it consume you.

Thankfully someone calls for a break, cause you’ve been playing for a while, and you manage to escape.

Jiseok pulls away from the kiss turning in the direction of your seat only to see that it’s empty, because you’re already headed alone towards the balcony.

“Go away,” you whine, turning back around to the night sky.

“What if I don’t?” Jiseok comes next to you and whistles at how high it is.

“I might push you and go to jail. Doesn’t sound too bad to be honest.”

“Why did you drink?” He asks still smirking at your comment.

“Why did you kiss her?”

“I asked first.”

It’s because you didn’t want your first kiss with him, if there ever was going to be one, to be during a lame drinking game with multiple eyes on you. You didn’t want it to be a dare. You wanted it to be intimate and more than anything - real.

“If I did you were just going to use it against me at some point…” you turn to him, raising a brow.

Jiseok nods thoughtfully, slowly shifting his fixated gaze away from your face.

“True,” he mutters, pressing his lips together.

You roll your eyes at him and relax your elbows on the railings. For a while you stay in silence, just gazing at the night sky. It was uncommon for you both to stay quiet for so long without picking up a fight, but surprisingly not uncomfortable.

“There are many stars tonight.” You think out loud, watching the sparkling dots.

Jiseok can’t be bothered looking at them right now. Not when your bare arm is almost touching his; or when your hair is moving hypnotizingly from the wind, exposing the side profile of your face he learned to analyse almost each and every expression of. Well, mostly the angry ones, but they were even more irresistible.

“What if I want to?” The question drops from his tongue.

You turn to the side confused, but only to see him staring down in the distance.

“Want what?” You ask.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You gulp nervously after he leans forward. His alcoholic breath is now sticking to your lips which are so close to his… But for some reason he doesn’t do anything to cut the miniature distance that’s separating them. He only brushes his features against yours, building up the tension between your bodies till it becomes insufferable.

“Do you…” you mutter into his slightly parted mouth. “Do you really want to?”

You hold your breath, feeling the bridge of his nose touching yours.

“Y/N, I want to do many things to you.” Jiseok says, gripping the steel railing behind you.

He relishes the way you lick over your lips after you hear his words; the way your hands slowly, but surely move forward to feel his shoulders.

“Just tell me if you want it too.” His lips lightly touch yours, but not in a kiss. Just a small fragile touch; enough to give you a small taste of what it could be.

You’ve dreamt about this for so long that it feels like you finally found the missing piece of a puzzle after with no hesitation you just go for it.

Jiseok brings you as close as possible by the waist, making your heart skip a beat. He’s completely focused on your sweet taste coming from your tongue that leaves him breathless. All of these months spent in fighting and competing over the most petty and trivial things made him crave you so much more, that now he became completely addicted to you just from one taste.

“Fuck, don’t do that.” Jiseok grunts after you slip another muffled moan into his mouth. “Don’t baby, you’re making me hard.”

He moves lower down your neck to bite on the surface. His teeth graze your skin, suck hungrily up and down creating pink and reddish marks he can enjoy the look of tomorrow when you see each other for your shift. His hands are busy gripping your ass obsessively with force that has your tight dress lifting up.

It’s like he wants to make it difficult for both of you.

How are you supposed not to moan? How is he supposed to stop?

Jiseok shoots a quick glance behind his shoulder. The door to the balcony is closed and no one can see anything from the curtains unless they decide to come look for you.

He moves your skirt up to your tummy and slips your panties down. The chilly breeze brushes the area between your legs bringing you goosebumps, but Jiseok doesn’t waste time, and quickly warms you up by running his tongue between your folds. He laps your slickness creating a mess on his face and buries his mouth as much as possible when you lift one leg giving him bigger exposure to your heat.

“Can’t help it, baby, I need to taste you.” His voice finds you in the dark with a hint of desperation. “I’ve wanted this for so long…”

His palms crawl up your thighs just like they always did in his fantasies - the ones he created in his mind during the long hours of his shift.

You throw your head back holding tightly on the cold steel, as his quick tongue concentrates on your sweet spot making all the frustrations you went through together totally worth it.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[fortheloveofwonderland]

No Distance Left to Run | Part 4 | S.R

Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary - As you prepare to return to the BAU you find yourself hot water and this time Spencer might not be able to save you. As the BAU work to find you, your secrets come to light.

A/N - some canon elements of Date Night used but I mostly rewrote it.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.15 Truth or Dare and for 15.06 Date Night, abusive relationship, kidnapping, guns, hostage situations, Cat Adams, panic attacks, tears, swearing.

WC - 9.1k

Part 4 - Dominoes

Present Day

After fifteen days off work, you were more than ready to get back to the BAU tomorrow. 

You loved the extra time you got to spend with your children but it was anything but a relaxing vacation time. 

Between meeting with lawyers in regards to your marriage and your husband who remained in jail pending trial, and trying to be super mom, you were more drained than you would be from a normal case load. 

It had been nearly three weeks since Jared’s arrest and two weeks since the hostage situation in which you’d confessed your love for your best friend. Your best friend who hadn’t once tried to contact you since Rossi’s wedding.

You’d told him you needed time apart but Spencer was stubborn and you were sure he would try to call, maybe even show up at the house, but he never did. 

You’d missed him, missed how things used to be. For the past seven months since Varnville things hadn’t been the same between you. 

They’d just started to get better, the iciness starting to thaw when you’d made your confession. Time had begun to heal the wounds you caused Spencer by falling into bed with him and you’d been amicable again, friendly even. 

Right before you’d been called out to LA where two murders had been committed in two days with similar MO’s, the case which would lead to you being held hostage, you’d been having a game of poker as a team. 

“You guys, you should have seen Reid. He shot a one hundred.” Luke spoke as he and Spencer entered the round table room. The rest of you gasped and made appreciative sounds. “Yeah, he qualified to shoot a possum.” 

“That’s like a perfect score. What, like, two hundred agents have made the wall of glory?” Matt sounded rightfully impressed.

“He hit everything, I mean at one point I thought he must have two guns.” Luke shook his head as he slid into one of the vacant chairs. 

“Maybe I did.” Spencer smiled knowingly, sitting in the space opposite you. 

You looked at him with curiosity and he simply smiled at you. 

You’d gone two days without a case which was a nice reprieve but it left you all a little on edge. You’d worked your way through a backlog of reports until Garcia suggested a round of poker with jelly beans for chips. 

Rossi was the only one not in attendance as he was helping Krystall with last minute wedding preparations. 

The game began, slowly one by one the team members folded, finally leaving only you, Spencer and Luke still in. 

You glanced at your cards before placing them back face down on the table. You cupped your pile of jelly beans you’d procured and pushed them all to the centre of the table, looking Spencer dead in the eye. 

“Do you think the lady is bluffing?” Luke looked between the two of you. 

“I know the lady is bluffing because she has a tell.” He gave you that knowing smile once more. 

“No I don’t.” You shook your head but Spencer continued to smile and pushed his own pile of candy towards the centre. 

“I’m gonna go all in.” He sat back in his chair. 

“Oh I like it.” Luke smirked. “Live by the sword, die by the sword. I call.” 

“Alright, lets see ‘em.” Tara encouraged.

Luke turned his card over and placed them on the table top. 

“Three of a kind, king high.”

“Perfectly respectable but not getting it done.” Tara shook her head. 

Spencer opened his hand, placing his cards down with a smug smile gracing his lips. 

“Pair of kings, pair of sevens. Oh I’m sorry, uh, three sevens.” His smile grew. 

“Oh, a full boat from the sassy Doctor Reid.” Tara chuckled. 

Spencer focused on you, his smile in full bloom. You felt your own tugging at your lips as you placed your own cards down for them to see. 

A four, five, six, seven and eight of spades. Spencer's face fell, his smile vanishing in an instant. 

“A straight flush, that has to hurt.” Tara chuckled. 

“I think Doctor Reid is speechless.” Matt laughed too. 

You shrugged, reaching out to collect your winnings. 

“Guess I’m a better liar than you thought.”

Spencer had continued to stare at you in disbelief until Emily announced you had a case which was taking you to LA. At that moment, high from your win, you never could have foreseen where that case would lead. 

Unpredictability was unfortunately a part of life. Thirteen years ago you never would have anticipated the nice man you met in a bar on your birthday would go on to abuse you. 

Fifteen years ago when you’d first been introduced to the dorky Doctor Spencer Reid, you had no way to know you would still harbour feelings for him all these years later. 

“Yo, pretty boy?” 

“Huh?” 

“Let’s not make the new girl feel uncomfortable on her very first day.” 

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t…” 

“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t get out much.” 

“Everyone this is our new agent Y/N Y/L/N, please can you all make her feel welcome. Not too welcome though, ok, Reid?” 

“Got it.”

He’d changed so much since then, it was only really now you realised that. When you saw someone every day it was hard to notice those little changes they went through until you took a step back and saw how big those changes really were.

You’d both gone from being in your early twenties, innocent and green to now somehow circling forty, much less naive than you had been back then. A whole lifetime had passed in those years. You’d gotten married, had two children and you and Spencer had both suffered your share of trauma. 

You and Spencer were long overdue for a painful conversation. It would make or break your relationship, it would dictate where the two of your futures were headed and if they were entwined with one another's. 

It was only a matter of time before he would ask you again, and you had to decide if you were willing to be honest with him or lie to him. 

“Y/N?” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Truth or dare?” 

You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes for a fraction of a second before opening them and looking at him again.

“Truth.” You croaked. 

“Did you mean it?” 

Your eyes flit down to your bracelet, eyeing the inscription for a moment or two before you looked back at Spencer. There was a simple answer and a complicated one, neither of which you wanted to get into right now.

“Spencer I-”

What had you planned on saying before Adie interrupted you? You weren’t even sure of that yourself. Because you had meant it, but being in love with Spencer Reid was far too complicated for words. 

You wanted to keep those thoughts at bay, at least for one more day. You had one last day off work before you had to see Spencer again and you needed to not burden yourself with any unnecessary stress.

You dropped the kids at school before running some errands. You did the grocery shopping for the week, knowing it was likely you would be pulled in on a case once you went back and wouldn’t have time to do it otherwise. 

You’d arranged for your cousin Olivia to sit the kids while you worked, after explaining to her why Jared suddenly wasn’t around. She was more than happy to stay at the house with your children while you were off fighting crime. 

You picked up extra ice cream and a bottle of nice wine for Olivia as a thank you, dropped off your dry cleaning and drove back home where you planned to clean the house until it was time to pick your kids up from school. 

You parked on the drive and exited the car, going over to the house and opening the door before getting the bags out of the trunk so you didn’t have to try and wrestle it open with your hands full.

Heading back to your SUV, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. You slowed your steps, honing your senses onto your surroundings. Something felt off, but you didn’t know why. But your instincts were telling you something was amiss. 

Your hand instinctively went to your firearm but of course it wasn’t there, it was tucked away in the safe in the house. 

You cautiously continued back to the car, eyes rapidly searching the street, your front yard and the front yards of your neighbours houses. You kept your footsteps soft and quiet so you could pick up on any little noise. 

You reached the SUV and popped the trunk, feeling your nerves start to fade a little. You were paranoid, that’s all it was. You tried to shake it off but you couldn’t quite let it go, the hairs on your neck refusing to go down. 

You collected up the paper bags in your arms, cradling them on one hip so you could close the trunk with the other. You turned and tried to rebalance the bags but found yourself looking down the barrel of a revolver. 

You fumbled with the bags and dropped them all on the ground, partially conscious of hearing the wine bottle smash as it hit the concrete. You swallowed, trying to focus yourself on the long dark hair of the woman pointing the gun at you. 

“What do you want?” You croaked. “I have money, I have connections. I’m an FBI Agent, you don’t want to do this.” 

“Oh, I know exactly who you are.” The woman chuckled. “Jared says hello.” 

You whimpered, taking a step back to your car but then you were taking a blow to the head from the muzzle of the gun and soon the world went dark.

Life was certainly unpredictable. 

***

When Penelope Garcia initially received the call from a friendly woman named Linda at the Hyde-Addison Elementary School, she was confused to say the least. Her confusion turned into panic when Linda informed her that two students, Adleine and Finley Haines had not been collected from school.

Linda, the school’s administrator had tried calling their mother several times when she didn’t come to pick up her kids but kept getting her voicemail. The school had been informed that Jared Haines was not reachable at present.

The school required pre-approval for anyone to collect kids from the school who weren’t the children’s legal carers. As godparents to Adie and Fin, Penelope and Spencer along with your cousin Olivia were the only people pre-approved.

Garcia had been the first person called and she’d been sitting at her desk in her bat cave when she’d received the call. The rest of the team were in the bullpen working on paperwork as they didn’t have an active case. 

Before Penelope allowed herself to spiral into fear, she called Olivia and asked if she could pick the kids up from school, trying not to say too much to alarm the young girl. Penelope needed to be at the BAU, because she knew if you hadn’t picked up the kids, there was a sinister reason for it. 

She tried to remain calm while she headed through to the bullpen, head down and focused solely on Emily Prentiss’ office. She knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before she tottered inside.

“We’ve got a case?” Emily looked up from her paperwork.

“Uh, yes and no.” Garcia closed the door behind her. “I just had an interesting call from Hyde-Addison.”

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed as she turned that name over in her head a few times. 

“Adie and Fin’s school?” 

“Yes.”

Emily’s back straightened in her chair, knowing whatever Garcia was going to say wouldn’t be good.

“Should I be worried?” The raven haired Unit Chief’s heart was already pounding.

“Maybe,” Garcia nodded. “Y/N wasn’t there to collect the kids today. She would never forget to pick the kids up. I’ve called Liv, she’s going to get them. But I think something has happened to Y/N.” 

“Why didn’t they call Jared?” Emily narrowed her eyes on the blonde. 

“I…uh, it's complicated?” 

“Has something happened between them? She didn’t really give me much detail of why she needed time off.” 

“I think that’s going to be a story I can only tell once.”

Emily was out of her seat and heading to the door before Penelope even finished her sentence. She swung the door open so forcefully it caused all the agents in the bullpen to look up at her.

Garcia pushed open Rossi’s door, motioning him out. The old man got up from his desk and padded outside. 

“What’s going on?” He spoke, looking between Emily and Garcia. 

“A bad one?” JJ spoke up from her desk. 

Emily let out a shaky breath, ready to deliver the news to her waiting team and wishing things like this didn’t always fall on her shoulders. 

“Garcia received a call just now from Adeline and Finley’s school when Y/N failed to show up to collect them.” Emily spoke, trying to keep her voice measured. 

Spencer immediately shot out of his chair, glaring at Emily.

“What?” His face was drained of colour. “Why?”

“We don’t know, that’s what we need to find out.” Emily nodded sternly.

“Why did they call you?” Luke asked, directing his question to Garcia. “Where’s their dad?”

Penelope looked at Spencer, her expression pleading him to help her. She didn’t want to have to relay this story for you, not that Spencer did either. He huffed out a breath and slowly headed up the stairs to join Garcia, Emily and Rossi while they all looked at him in slight confusion.

“A few weeks ago Penelope discovered that Jared Haines had been arrested.” Spencer began, his voice cracking as he spoke. “For a domestic disturbance turned attempted murder.” 

The rest of the team gasped at his words, exchanging looks and silently asking each other if anyone knew. Penelope was on her phone, tapping at the keys.

“He was abusing her?” Emily looked at Spencer, her expression one of sorrow.

“For a long time.” He nodded sadly. “I knew he was hurting her, I tried to help her but she refused me every time. Adeline called the cops when Jared got hold of Y/N’s gun. He shot the wall, not Y/N. When DC Metro showed up, he had his hand around her throat.” 

“Jeez,” Rossi shook his head. “That poor girl.” 

“I had no idea.” JJ pouted, her eyes filling with tears.

“You think this has something to do with him?” Luke asked, his nostrils flared in anger.

“He’s still in jail, I just checked.” Garcia waved her phone. 

“What is this about then?” Tara frowned. “Do we really think something has happened to her?”

“She would never leave the kids like that. No way.” Spencer shook his head. 

“This might not be a case, there may be a reasonable explanation.” Emily didn’t look as though she believed that herself. 

“Can I go and check on her?” Spencer begged. 

“Ok.” Emily nodded. “You have your car?” 

“No,” he raked his fingers through his hair. 

“I’ll take you kid,” Rossi nodded at him. 

“I’ll try and ping her cell phone.” Garcia hurriedly started back towards the stairs, Rossi and Spencer in tow. 

“Just in case something has happened, tell Y/N’s cousin to keep the kids away from her house.” Emily instructed. 

“Aye aye boss.” Penelope spoke as she carried on walking. 

Spencer was soon over taking her, walking as fast as he could towards the elevators while Rossi struggled to keep up. 

He was blinded by his emotions and he knew it. And he also knew if anything had happened to you he would never be the same. 

***

“Why are you doing this?” You asked once you finally came to, tied to a chair in a nondescript room. 

The dark haired woman sat on an old desk, twirling her revolver in her hand. 

“I already told you, for your husband.” She clucked.

“I don’t buy it.” You shook your hazy head. “He’s too controlling to let someone else do his dirty work.” 

“But he’s in prison, so he can’t do his own dirty work.” 

“Fine, let’s pretend I believe you. How do you know my husband?” You sighed. 

“We were lovers.” She smirked dangerously at you but you simply rolled your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, we both know that’s not true. My husband is forty two years old, you can’t be more than late twenties. We’ve been together for thirteen years, so if you’re telling me you were together before I met him, that would have made you, at most, sixteen years old. I highly doubt that he would have dated a sixteen year old when he was almost thirty.” You argued. 

“Who said it was before you met him?” 

“So you’re proposing that my husband cheated on me with you?” You cocked an eyebrow at her. “Ok, let’s say that happened. Why would you be willing to do his dirty work for him? What is he offering you in return for killing me? Let me guess, with me dead he has no one to testify against him and he goes free? And then what? The two of you run off into the sunset together with two kids?” 

You saw something flicker in her eyes. 

“Something like that.” She shrugged. 

You knew what you’d seen. She hadn’t given your kids a second thought. You decided to take a leaf from Spencer’s book. When he’d faced off with Cat Adams after prison he’d tricked her by giving the wrong name of Morgan’s son, proving she didn’t know as much about him as she thought.

“You think you’re equipped to look after Sammy and Kylie?” You scoffed. 

“I can be surprisingly maternal.” She smirked at you.

That cleared that up. This was most certainly not about Jared. If she was really his lover or whatever she claimed to be, surely she would know about his kids and this woman certainly did not. 

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“Where are my kids now?” You asked. 

“How should I know? I’m not interested in them, I’m interested in you.” The woman pushed herself up from the desk suddenly and you held your breath as she came closer to you. It was then you noticed the camera set up on a table top tripod, pointing your way.

She came behind you and you flinched when she wrapped her arm around your neck, gun dangling by your chest.

“Say cheese,” the woman chirruped, seconds before a camera flash went off.

***

Upon arrival at 184 Calvert Street it was immediately clear there had been a struggle. 

Several bags of groceries were on the drive, a smashed bottle of wine, cracked eggs and a partially split box of cereal. Your car was unlocked and your front door was wide open. 

Spencer drew his weapon, as did Rossi, as they headed towards the house. Without a word, Spencer took the ground floor and Rossi the first. A few minutes later Rossi called out, “clear.” 

“Clear here too.” Spencer holstered his weapon.

Nothing in the house appeared to be out of place, it looked the same as it usually did. He moved some books aside on the bookshelf to reveal the safe hidden behind. He heard Rossi’s footsteps on the stairs as he input the code.

He popped the safe door and reached inside, locating your gun with ease. He turned and held it up to Rossi who was looking at him with a frown. 

“You know her combination?” The older man asked. 

“It’s Adie’s birthday.” Spencer shrugged. “Makes sense she wouldn’t have had her gun, she wasn’t working.”

He put the firearm back in the safe as the two of them headed back outside. 

“It looks like she opened the door before getting the groceries. She had a lot to carry and I guess she figured it was easier to open the door first.” Rossi mused.

“She gets the door open, heads back to the car and grabs the bags, but someone waits until after she’s got them and closes the trunk to strike.” Spencer added. “There’s no other signs of a struggle or a fight. She’s startled and drops the bags and then what?”

“First blush? If it were me, a gun in my face would startle me enough to drop my bags.” Rossi speculated. 

Spencer roughly rubbed his palm across his jaw, shaking his head.

“This can’t be happening, Rossi. Not after everything she’s been through.” 

“Kid, take a breath.” Rossi put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

“Clearly someone has stalked her, learnt her patterns and-”

“Not what I mean.” Rossi cut him off. 

“I can’t let anything else bad happen to her, Dave. Not after I sat by for years and did nothing while her jerk husband beat her.” Spencer spat. 

“Reid, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Yet I do.” 

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this and we’re gonna find her.” Rossi looked determined. “And when we do, maybe the two of you will finally stop playing this exhausting little game and finally admit you’re crazy about each other.” 

Rossi strolled away towards his car and Spencer watched him go. He couldn’t help the dry chuckle that left his lips at the old man’s words.

If only you knew, Rossi. If only you knew.

***

Two Weeks Ago

“Garcia, any luck with Judge Hamilton?” Spencer leant forward in the chair, speaking into the car’s microphone while you drove. 

Judge Melissa Hamilton was one of the people who the team suspected might be their unsub, Casey Allen Pinkner’s next target. But so far Garcia hadn’t been able to get hold of her. 

“No, we’ve reached everyone else involved she won’t pick up. I’ve pinged her phone, you guys are close.” Garcia informed you both. 

“She’s gotta be his end game, he knows we’re onto him and time is limited.” You huffed, continuing down the street and keeping your eyes peeled for Melissa Hamilton’s car.

“During sentencing she wanted to throw the book at him, she said that he needed to take responsibility for his actions.” Spencer spoke.

“That would have incensed him.” You sighed.

“Oh! she just pulled over.” Garcia’s voice came through the speakers again. 

You and Spencer both glanced around the busy LA street. Up ahead Spencer noticed a car stopped, frowning he leant further forward. 

“That’s her, that’s Judge Hamilton. Turn around.” He quickly told you. 

He held on tight while you made a sharp and somewhat precarious U-turn in the middle of a busy intersection. As you closed in on the vehicle it started moving again. 

You were hot on its tail, Spencer keeping a close eye on the sedan weaving in and out of traffic. Suddenly a tanker pulled out of a side road and Hamilton’s car came to an abrupt stop before they collided.

You pulled in behind it as the doors were opening on the other vehicle. Casey Allen Pinkner slid out of the back seat and instantly fired his gun in Spencer’s direction. Spencer was quick to duck behind the open door and narrowly avoided the bullet that hit the side of the SUV. 

You drew your own weapon but didn’t return fire given the amount of people on the street. Instead the two of you hurried after where he ran off with Judge Hamilton in tow. He’d run inside a jewellery store and you both followed him in, weapons pointed in his direction. 

“Everybody out!” Spencer yelled as he entered, waving the customers towards the door. 

Pinkner aimed his gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger, making the store clerk who he held by the shoulder scream.

“Go, get out.” You motioned to the other customers before turning to Pinkner. “FBI!” 

“Put them down.” Pinkner growled. “On the ground.” 

You and Spencer exchanged a look, lowering your gun just a little. 

“It’s ok,” Spencer whispered, lowering his also and tossing it on the floor before you followed suit.

Pinkner made the clerk close the shutters while he had Hamilton force you and Spencer to the floor and tape your wrists behind your back. She was shaking as she taped up Spencer’s arms. 

“Don’t worry, it's going to be ok.” He whispered to her. 

What ensued was the two of you sitting back and witnessing Pinkner try and force Hamiliton to play his sick game of truth or dare whilst threatening if she didn’t play, he would kill her daughter. 

His dare for Hamilton entailed her shooting Spencer. But to his credit, Spencer didn’t even flinch with the gun pointing at him.

“Casey…” You spoke up, sensing the judge’s hesitancy whilst trying to push yourself to your feet.. “Uh, if Melissa won’t play, I will. Truth or dare? That’s your game right? I’ll play.” 

“Casey, I know what it's like, to be wrongly accused, sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.” Spencer spoke now, obviously trying to buy you all some time. 

“Yeah right, you went to jail?�� Pinkner scoffed but Spencer simply nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to see that pretty boy.” 

Meanwhile behind his back Spencer had located a shard of glass from a broken display. He had it between his fingers as he attempted to cut through his tape. It was tricky at this angle and could feel the glass cutting into his palm but he powered through. 

“Ok, agent…” Casey turned to you with the gun, trailing off when he realised he didn’t know your name. 

“Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N, truth or dare?” He spat. 

“Truth.” You sucked in a breath. 

“If I think you’re lying, or stretching the truth in the slightest, I’ll kill him.” He turned the gun on Spencer briefly before pointing it back at you. “You ever shoot anybody before?” 

“Yes I have.” You nodded. 

“You enjoy it?” Pinkner smirked at you. 

“No.”

“LIAR!” He yelled, turning the gun back to Spencer and pulling the trigger.

You screamed at the sound, your heart instantly pounding. But soon enough you realised the bullet hadn’t hit him, not quite. 

“No, no I’m not lying!” You were quick to say, tears now flooding your vision. “The people I shot, I had no choice. But I did not enjoy it, I didn’t. You asked, and I told the truth ok? So, uh, now it's my turn? That’s how this game’s played. We take turns. Truth or dare?”

You tried to keep your tears at bay but if he shot at Spencer like that again they would certainly fall. You glanced at him, he looked a little shell shocked from the ordeal, no doubt he’d heard the bullet whirring past his head. But at least he was unscathed. 

“Truth.” Casey replied and you looked back at him. 

“What’s it going to take for all of us to walk out of here alive? For this to end peacefully?” You pleaded with him. 

“I ain’t going back to prison. My turn. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You clenched your jaw. 

In your peripheral vision you could see Spencer moving ever so slightly. Hopefully you were buying you both enough time for him to come up with a way out of here. 

“I want you to say something you’re afraid to say. That you’d never tell anybody and you better make it good because if it's not it's gonna be the last thing you ever say. What’s it gonna be?” Pinkner spat, proffering the gun closer to you. 

“There are only four people I trust in this world.” You swallowed. 

“Boring.” Pinkner turned and quickly fired a bullet into Judge Hamilton's leg. She screamed and fell to the floor. “Next.” 

Your heart was thumping against your chest. You knew you had to say something good and this was certainly something you didn’t want to say. 

“My, uh…my husband…he uh…he hits me. He’s abusive.” You choked as tears started streaming down your face. 

“Wrong. Come on, you can do better than that.” Pinkner scoffed. 

“Casey,” Spencer spoke now, the pain in his voice evident. 

He’d know about what Jared did to you but you’d never said it out loud in quite as many words. He hated the way he felt so powerless against what your husband had done to you. 

“Shut up!” Casey screamed at him, grabbing you by the shoulder and forcing you back to the floor. 

“Ok, ok.” You cried. 

“Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me or I kill him.” He turned the gun back on Spencer. 

You looked at your best friend through watery eyes. There was only one thing left to say. A secret you never thought you’d say out loud, especially to Spencer. 

But it would certainly be enough to get Casey’s attention and with any luck it would save your lives. 

“Come on!” Casey screamed.

You kept your eyes on Spencer, tears getting heavier. His brow furrowed at you, sensing the weight of what you were about to say. 

“Spence, uh…” you swallowed. “I have always loved you. I was too scared to say it before... and now things are just really too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.”

The look that washed over him could only be described as pure heart break as the world seemed to freeze around you. He’d wanted to hear those words for so many years but not here, not like this. 

For five seconds the two of you stared at each other, five gut wrenching, life altering seconds. This was going to change everything, life would never be the same again. 

***

Present Day

Upon receiving the email from the anonymous server, things started to make a little more sense. 

It didn’t make the situation any less terrifying, but it did at least point the team in the right direction.

Your phone had been found in a dumpster a few blocks from your house and hadn’t rendered anything useful. It was the email that had landed in Garcia’s inbox a few minutes after Spencer and Rossi returned from your home which was interesting. 

It was a photograph of you with your abductor's arm around your shoulder. The woman next to you wasn’t trying to obscure her face telling the team she wasn’t scared of being identified. You had dried blood on the side of your face but other than that you looked to be unscathed. 

But the most alarming part was the demand in the email. 

Release Catherine Adams in twenty four hours. 

And that was how Spencer found himself behind the glass in the little room next to the interrogation room in which Cat Adams currently occupied. 

“You sure you can do this?” JJ was at his side, much like she had been last time he’d had to face off with his nemesis. 

“I don’t have a choice, Jennifer.” He wouldn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on Cat in her bright orange jumpsuit. “She’s made it personal. Again. If I don’t go in there she’s going to have Y/N killed.” 

“I’ll be right here.” JJ tried to calm him. 

“I don’t need you to wait for me. This is something I need to do alone. Go and help the team.” He didn’t look at her as he headed for the door and violently swung it open. 

He slammed it behind him, glaring manically at Cat. 

She was relaxed back in the chair, arms folded across her chest, jumpsuit sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her dark hair was stringy and lifeless, tied back off of her face. 

Those infectious eyes he remembered having so much spark when they played their little game in the restaurant, even after his release from prison with his hand around her throat, were dull like someone had switched a light off. 

He’d seen that look mirrored on his own eyes when he was incarcerated. Day by day prison stripped him of life, and his eyes had slowly lost their sparkle. 

She’d been inside much longer than him, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see the effects she wore. But even when she looked at him they remained dark and cold. 

He could see the resignation. She’d given up. It happened in prison, when you stopped believing there was a way out. He’d reached that point too, he’d gotten himself into solitary for his own protection, but he’d been so sure he’d die there. 

She stared at him, waiting for him to speak. If he didn’t know any better he would have been sure she didn’t have anything to do with this. She didn’t seem as though she had the energy for these kinds of games anymore. 

“Where is she?” He spat at her, not wanting to waste any time. 

“Because I’m going to make it that easy on you?” Cat scoffed, lifeless eyes rolling in her head. 

“The demand of releasing you from prison is never going to happen, so why don’t we save ourselves both some time and tell me what this is really about.” He moved closer to the metal table but didn’t sit down. 

“You haven’t heard,” her lips turned up at the corner. 

“Heard?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“I stopped fighting. The state versus Catherine Adams.” She unfolded her arms, exhaled heavily. 

“You’ve grown a conscience? Unlikely.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I’m bored.” She huffed. “Death has got to be more interesting.” 

“Why am I here, Cat? And where is Y/N?” He tried to keep his voice levelled but he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. “I’m not playing your games this time, tell me where she is.” 

“You know that’s not how this works, Spencie.” She offered him a sweet smile. Her eyes were still void of emotion. 

“Tell me what you want.” He folded his arms across his chest. 

“My final request,” she sat back in her chair leisurely. “Before I’m put to death. I want to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer felt his stomach turn violently. Of course there was always something. But she did really think she would get her own way, be released from prison so he could take her out? 

He supposed having an FBI Agent kidnapped was one way to ensure she got what she wanted. 

He unfolded his arms before kneeling in front of her. He moved close to her ear. 

“The only date I will be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.” He spat before pushing himself back up. 

“I hear you have a thing for damaged women, I thought I was just your type.” She smirked wildly at him. 

His teeth ground together furiously, but he tried not to let her see he was coming unravelled. He couldn’t give anything away. She was the master of reading people, him specifically. In another life she would have made a great profiler. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” He sucked in a breath, desperate not to let her see she’d hit a nerve. 

Cat chuckled, an evil and maniacal sound that made Spencer’s stomach lurch. 

“After all this time? Always.” She quoted with a wide smile on her face. 

Spencer’s nostrils flared and he felt his heart leap into his throat. 

How did she know about that? How could she possibly know? 

The only conceivable way would be from your bracelet. The bracelet you’d handed him back at Rossi’s wedding which he’d come to discover when he got home he no longer had in his possession. 

He’d assumed it had fallen out of his pocket, even called the venue the next day but as of yet no one had found it. Even if he’d lost it, it was out of the question that she could have gotten her hands on it. 

“Did you hear me?” Cat spoke again, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Yes.” He nodded.

“You’re going to take me on a date or I will have her killed.” She spoke in a sickly sweet tone that made Spencer want to throw up. “I want to look pretty! I wanna have fun! And I won’t even get physical. Unless you want me to.” 

He felt dizzy out of nowhere, his vision starting to blur. The walls of the interrogation room seemed like they were getting closer. He suddenly felt as though he couldn’t breath, like a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. 

I’m having a panic attack. 

Before he could let Cat see his devolution, he threw open the door and fled the small room. He crossed the corridor in two strides, letting himself into a disused office. 

He fought to loosen his tie which felt like it was strangling him. He managed to get it over his head and tossed it aside while trying to focus on his breathing. 

A large scream ripped through him, involuntarily erupting from his throat and he reached out and swiped a pile of books and papers off the desk in his rage. 

He collapsed to the floor soon after that, hot tears streaming down his face. He sobbed loudly, not caring if anyone was to hear him. He didn’t even care if Cat heard him, even though that was unlikely through the reinforced glass.

He’d had so many emotions pent up for so many years and it was finally all coming to surface. Cat having you kidnapped was the straw that broke the camel's back. The thin piece of thread holding him together all these years snapped. 

You’d told him you loved him and he hadn’t said it back. What if he never got to say it back? You were finally free of the clutches of your abusive husband but now you might die because of Cat’s vendetta against him. 

He’d allow himself this moment. One moment in which he crumbled. Then he would push it all down and focus everything he had on finding you. 

And if he didn’t find you? That didn’t bear thinking about it. 

***

Hours ticked by. Slow, painful hours. There was something familiar about this room but you couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite see the bigger picture. 

The room was small, barely larger than your en-suite bathroom at home. The walls were painted white, chipped and peeling at the corners. 

The floor was damp and dusty, clearly having gone unused for years. The table in the corner which your kidnapped sat on was more like a counter than an actual table. 

Behind the counter was a set of thick red velvet curtains which were moth eared and mouldy. You swore you could see a sliver of light behind the thick fabric but maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

A window maybe? 

There was one door, to the left of the counter but it didn’t offer any clues. 

Debris was littered on the floor, torn sheets of paper for which you couldn’t quite piece together to work out what was on them. Small brown beads of something scattered between the paper but you couldn’t ascertain what they were. 

You probably had a concussion. If the blow to the head hadn’t done it you were sure the fall to the ground after you’d been rendered unconscious had. Your brain was foggy, you knew you were missing something right in front of you but you couldn’t work out what. 

The woman didn’t speak much, she mostly sat in silence on her cell phone. None of this made sense. Surely if she’d kidnapped you she wanted something from you? But she was yet to make any demands. 

By now you were sure the team must be looking for you. When you failed to pick up the kids from school either Liv, Penelope or Spencer would have been called. By now they must realise something had happened to you. 

The profiler in you couldn’t stop trying to run through it all in your head despite how much it hurt to do so. 

If this was somehow about Jared, even though you doubted that, where would their paths have crossed? Jared liked to drink, he frequented a lot of bars in the district. She could have been a bartender that he spilled his life to over one too many beers. 

But if that were true wouldn’t she know your kids names? 

She could have gotten hold of your FBI file. It would tell her your husband's name and the fact you had two kids but not their names. But that would open up the very real and very terrifying idea she was working for someone on the inside. 

She could have simply stalked you. If she’d been following you she would know about your husband, your kids, but not necessarily their names. 

But then it just came back to the why. Why was she doing this? Who had she taken that photo for? What did she want from you? 

You swallowed, your mouth was so dry and your throat was scratchy. You wiggled a little against your binds, this whole being held hostage thing was becoming too much of a regular occurance. 

“Look, seeing as we’re going to be here a while, why don’t you tell me what this is about.” You barely recognised your own voice.

The woman’s eyes snapped away from her phone and she looked at you, regarding you curiously. She put down the device and pushed herself to her feet. 

She had a slightly crazed smile on her lips as she approached you. There was something vaguely familiar about her, like you’d seen her somewhere before. Had you noticed her watching you? Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind did you recognise her? 

“You need to see what he’s really like.” She told you, rummaging around in her pocket. 

“Jared? I already know what he’s really like.” You scoffed, with a frown. 

“Not Jared.” She chucked, fishing something out of her pocket and holding it up in front of your eyes. 

Your poor and tired eyes took a moment to focus on the silver item dangling from her fingers. But when you did, you felt your whole world stop turning. 

***

Spencer collected himself, pushed down his emotions and washed his face so the team wouldn’t know he’d been crying. When he walked into the round table room, all eyes were on him.

“How did it go, kid?” Rossi asked.

“About as well as you would expect.” He croaked. 

“We’ve run the woman through facial recognition but so far we haven’t got anything.” Garcia told him sadly. 

“I’ve seen her before.” Spencer focused on the photograph of you and your captor on the big screen. “I know I have, I just can’t figure out where.” 

“It makes sense for her to use a partner again, but her victimology is off. Cat is a black widow, she targets abusive men who remind her of her father.” JJ spoke now. 

“Could this be about Jared? Maybe she thinks in some kind of warped way, she’s saving Y/N?” Luke frowned as he spoke. 

“She doesn’t need saving, he’s already in jail.” Emily shook her head. 

“It’s not about Jared.” Spencer heaved a sigh. “I know exactly what this is about. This is about me.” 

“Well yeah it’s always been about you. But with Cat there is always the presenting agenda and the hidden one. If she sticks to pattern this isn’t just about going on a date with Spence.” JJ shook her head. 

So she was listening, at least to part of it. 

“No, this is about me. Me and Y/N.” Spencer closed his eyes, his gut churning. 

“What do you mean?” Tara asked with a hint of confusion in her tone. 

He opened his eyes again and looked at her, trying to find some kind of solace in her soft brown eyes. This was the last thing he wanted to open about right now but it was inevitable he would have to. 

If this was really about you and him, the team needed all the facts. 

“A few weeks ago on the case in LA, the guy who liked to play truth or dare. When he held us hostage, Y/N agreed to play.” Spencer looked away from Tara, focused his vision on your image on the big screen. 

“Ok?” Rossi frowned. 

“What does that have to do with anything? I read your report.” Emily frowned too. 

“I left something out of my report. Something she said that I didn’t think was pertinent. Not to the case anyway.” 

“But you think it’s relevant now?” Matt gave him an equally confused look. 

“I think somehow, and I don’t know how, Cat found out. Or she guessed, maybe, I’m not sure. But I think it’s why she took Y/N and how I know this about me and nothing else.” Spencer raked his fingers through his hair, a similar dizziness to that he’d experienced in the interrogation room washing over him. 

He needed to get this out before he had another panic attack. 

“Are you gonna tell us what she said or do we have to drag it out of you?” Luke was the one to ask. 

“She said…” he closed his eyes, taking himself back to the jewellery store. “Spence, uh…I have always loved you. I was too scared to say it before... and now things are just really too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.”

He kept his eyes closed as he quoted you verbatim. He could feel all the eyes of his team members on him, watching, waiting. 

When he opened his eyes he looked straight back at your photograph. There were a couple of exchanged glances but to their credit they didn’t seem all that surprised. 

“But you said it yourself, you left that out of the report.” Emily’s brows furrowed. 

“And the security camera from the store didn’t have audio. So even if she has someone on the inside working for her again, how would she know about that?” JJ looked at him quizzically.

“I have no idea.” He shrugged. 

“Did you tell anyone about it? Anyone at all?” Tara asked now.

“No,” Spencer shook his head. 

“Then how can this be about that?” Garcia questioned him. 

“I don’t know!” He sounded exasperated. “But I’m sure that it is, I know that it is.” 

“You’re sure you didn’t tell anyone?” JJ spoke calmly. “Even if it doesn’t seem relevant. Are you sure you didn’t-”

“Shit,” he cut her off. “I did tell someone.” 

“Who?” Emily was quick to ask. 

He looked from your photograph to his Unit Chief. 

“Max. I told Max.” 

“I’ve been in love with her for so long it’s just become a part of who I am.” He confessed. “I never let myself get close to anyone on the off chance she might have one day decided she felt the same. Just before I met you we…we, uh, slept together and she just up and left while I was asleep and never mentioned it again. It told me everything I needed to know, and so I made the decision to finally move on. I opened myself up to being with someone else and there you were. 

I really like you Max, I think we could have had something really amazing. But I can’t lie to you and tell you that I’m not always going to have feelings for Y/N, because at this point I’m sure they will never go away. And that’s not fair on you.” 

“No, it's not.” She shook her head. 

“I got held hostage yesterday, Y/N and I did.” He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “The unsub liked to play truth or dare. He had a gun pointed at her and made her confess to a secret she would never admit outloud.” 

Max narrowed her eyes on him, despite not being a profiler she could easily read between the lines.

“She told you she has feelings for you?” 

“She did.” Spencer nodded. “I still don’t know if she meant it or not, or if she was just trying to shock the guy.”

“You think she could be a part of this?” Luke leaned forward on the table. 

“No, no way.” Spencer shook his head frantically. 

“How can you be so sure? You only dated a few months, did you really know her?” JJ sounded somewhat accusatory. 

“I knew her.” He spat at his friend. “There is no way she is part of this.”

“Ok, ok kid calm down.” Rossi held his hands up. “If Max isn’t a part of this, we have to assume this woman who’s holding Y/N hostage overheard what you said to her. Where were you when you talked to Max?” 

Spencer’s eyes snapped onto the older man, frantic and wild. His heart pounded in his chest as his blood turned to ice. 

“At your wedding.” Spencer croaked. “I told Max that at your wedding.” 

In his peripheral vision he noticed someone pass by, dressed in a caterer's uniform. He waited for them to leave before he spoke again.

His eyes quickly found the image on the screen again only this time he didn’t look at you, he looked at the woman with her arm around your neck. 

“Fuck,” Spencer choked on his breath. “She was there! She was dressed as a freaking caterer!” 

All eyes turned to the screen while the others tried to deduce if they recognised her. 

“You’re sure?” Luke was the one to ask. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded defiantly. “I saw her throughout the day, didn’t really pay her much attention. But she was there when I was talking to Max. I saw her. I thought she walked off but it’s safe to say I wasn’t exactly focused on her. She could have just been out of view, listening while I told Max what happened.” 

“Her name is Juliette Weaver.” Penelope suddenly looked up from her laptop. “I just got over the prison visitor records. She’s visited Cat five times in the last two weeks. And before that, she was an inmate at the same correctional facility. She was released a little over a month ago.” 

“Ok, I’ll bite. If this woman was really at my wedding, watching you and listening to your conversations, I’m still not sure what Cat has to gain by kidnapping Y/N.” Rossi pulled a face. 

“She got back at me for arresting her by having me arrested.” Spencer started to pace as he let the thoughts flow. “Then we destroyed her relationship with Lindsey, exposed her affair with Wilkins, to the one person who ever loved her. We proved playing the game with me was more important than being faithful to Lindsey.” 

“So you think she wants to kill Y/N, take away the one person who loves you just like you did to her?” JJ mused. 

Spencer suddenly stopped pacing, eyes landed on JJ. 

“No,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want her dead.” 

“So what does she want?” Matt frowned. 

“Last time she wanted to prove that we’re the same. Me and Cat. This time she wants to prove I’m like him.” 

“Him?” Garcia questioned. 

“Jared.” Spencer exhaled. “At the wedding you told me how Y/N had been found with Jared’s hand around her throat. I bet Juliette overhead that too.” 

“So?” Garcia shrugged. 

“She was found being strangled, just like when I had Cat up against the wall in the interrogation room by her throat.” Spencer clenched his jaw. 

He saw some confused eyes, the whole team had not been privy to that part of his encounter with Cat. Emily hadn’t let the others see the video footage, thinking the fewer people knew of it the better. 

“Cat wants to prove to Y/N that I am no better than her husband. She doesn’t want to kill her, it would be too easy. It would be worse for me for Y/N to live and never be able to look at me the same.” Spencer’s whole body deflated. 

“Or let you live knowing you couldn’t save her.” Luke spoke, his tone morose. 

“Either way we need to find her.” Emily turned stern. “And the best way to do that would be…”

“No,” Spencer shook his head, whining. “Please? There must be another way.” 

“If we give her what she wants she could slip up. We can profile what she says on the date. She’d be out of her comfort zone.” Emily shrugged as if there was no other way. 

Maybe there wasn’t. 

“Fucking hell,” Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” 

“Alvez and Simmons, you'll go with them.” Emily instructed. “Garcia, see if you can find any more on Juliette Weaver.”

Soon the five of them, Spencer, Luke, Matt, Emily and Garcia exited the room, the others staying behind to continue pursuing other leads. As they passed by Emily’s office, the Unit Chief spoke again. 

“Reid, a word?” 

Spencer halted in his tracks, inhaling deeply before slowly following her into her office. 

She closed the door behind him, moved over to her desk which she leant back against.

“You sure you can do this?” She folded her arms across her chest. 

Spencer took a beat, thought about that question for a moment or two before he responded with a simple, “no.” 

“If there was another way…”

“I know.” He nodded stiffly. “I just need a minute to compose myself. If I have to see Cat right now I will undoubtedly kill her.” 

The gumption to his tone frightened Emily for a second. She knew he wasn’t exaggerating, he would most certainly kill her. 

“If you kill her we may never find Y/N. Just try and remember that.” Emily spoke softly, trying to calm him.

“If we don’t find her,” he clenched his jaw. “If she dies, I will murder Cat Adams with my bare hands. And rest assured I will sleep well afterwards.” 

With that he turned and forced the door open, fleeing the room before Emily could even so much as blink. 

And she knew more than ever that they had to bring you back unharmed, or she would inevitably lose two members from her team. 

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @frostandflamesfanfic @pixiehex1985 @release-your-sweets @mavel-fan-for-life @megan-mars @hales-17 @onlyspence @werewolfbansheelove @gubsi @vivian-555 @ropickle @meowiemari @dil3mma @wolfstar-17 @kylakins88 @shqwqrma

[salternateunreality2]

AGSZC Taking Care of Their Feral Chocobo (often against his will)

Just some OOC crack excerpts from Cloud being feral and his boyfriends suffering.

from many a conversation with @strayheartless

-----------------------------------------------------------

Unjust Punishments

Cloud: *has dorm toilet duty for "fighting with" bullies* Eh, this isn't the worst thing someone in charge has done for something that's not my fault.

*Everyone's gaze sharpening dramatically*

Sephiroth: What WAS the worst thing?

Cloud, casually: Oh probably that time I saved the mayor's daughter and was almost thrown in jail with my broken ribs...or maybe the time Johnson...never mind, I got him back so it's fine!

*One-Winged Angel starts playing from four directions at once*

Cloud: The mayor thing was only that bad because I was 8 and freaking out too much, no big deal because Ma stopped them from actually throwing me in jail.

*Estuans interius...*

Cloud: And Johnson's nuts are crushed now, so yeah, all good.

*Ira vehementi...*

A little while later...

Cloud: Hey Zack?

Zack: Yeah, buddy?

Cloud: You know I love cuddling you...

Zack: YES, ME TOO! *squeezes tighter*

Cloud: ...but I get the feeling I'm stuck, and I'd like to know for how long.

*Zoom out to see Zack and Cloud have been tightly wrapped in a burrito together, squirreled away in Genesis' giant bed-nest, and their whole burrito bundle is swaddled so thoroughly that escape seems untenable. Outside, sounds of growling, pacing, and theme music can be heard*

Zack: IDK, last time they got me after I almost got trampled by a behemoth, they had me in here for a day or two. I say just enjoy it. I definitely am! *Pecks on cheek* You're the cutest!

-------------------------------------------------------------

Medication

Cloud doesn't take pills. Get that thing away from him. He will tough it out. Pills are for the weak! ZACK, GET OFF!

Zack's clamping Cloud's jaws shut while Angeal strokes his throat like a stubborn dog's to get him to swallow, "there, there, just swallow, that's it, be a good rabid chocobo, good"

Two minutes later, with lots of "bleaugh blech blaugh blep blech": *pill clatters to the floor*

Dissolving it in milk doesn't work because he can sMeLl It.

Genesis: "That's it, next time it's going to be liquid!"

Next time...

Genesis: *covered in disgusting cough syrup and germs* "NEXT TIME IT'S GOING TO BE A SHOT."

Next time...

The shot goes awry and gets injected wrong and now Cloud looks like the most sad and pathetic creature to ever walk the earth because (a) they BETRAYED HIM and (b) the shot got injected into something that HURTS and it was a NEEDLE and they BETRAYED HIM. Little tears glisten on his feverish cheeks and the tiniest of whimpers comes out and he holds his injured arm extra gingerly, and now everyone feels awful. 🥺

Genesis: "...fine, next time it'll be pills."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Weaponized Cuteness

Cloud: *doesn't want to do something* *stands next to Angeal and rubs his head*

Angeal: Awww my precious chocobaby, does your head hurt?

Cloud: *looks away, pouting*

Angeal: Sweetheart, we have to take care of ourselves. Here, sit down in the shade and have some juice.

Zack: *offended puppy noises* GEAL MY HEAD HURTS TOOOOO

Angeal: It does not, keep squatting

Cloud: *smirking behind his juice box*

-

Zack: Kunsel, you gotta help us, he's playing them! You see that, right?!

Kunsel: Yep.

Zack: Great, then we need you to tell the-

Kunsel: Nope.

Zack: What do you mean "nope"?! YOU ACKNOWLEDGE WHAT HE'S DOING?!!!!

Kunsel: Yep, and it is hilarious 🍿🍿🍿

-

It backfires when Cloud is actually unwell and doesn't want help.

Cloud: *coughs up blood very quietly* Bye guys, I'm off to kill a zo- er, off on a patrol!

Angeal: *appears from the ether* No, you are not.

Cloud: But 🥺 I gotta, for work!

Angeal: I smell blood.

Later...

Zack: Heh.

Cloud: Shut the fuck up.

Zack: Nah, you look like a marshmallow and I will take as many blackmail pics as I please, my angry little muffin!

Cloud: *growling and coughing up blood from his straightjacket cocoon*

-

Genesis being manipulated into giving Cloud's lactose intolerant ass more cheese:

---------------------------------------------------------------

They burrito him for the flu one time and come home to find that he CHEWED THROUGH the cocoon and is out racing Roche with a raging fever.

---------------------------------------------------------------

It's cold, and Angeal is frantically wrapping Cloud up in many layers because he's "small" (compared to the giraffes the rest of them are) and unenhanced...and now Cloud is passing out from heatstroke before because his Nibelheim genes are strong.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Cloud: *sways*

Angeal, from two floors away: ...I smell naughty bird. GENESIS!

Genesis: Angeal?

Angeal: Did you eat today?

Genesis: Yes.

Angeal: 🤨

Genesis: SIGH I had a breakfast sandwich and a chicken dish for lunch from the cafeteria.

Angeal: Good. My bird senses were tingling, so I... *Looks at Genesis* 😱

Genesis: 😱 CLOUD

They both make it downstairs just in time to catch him. He hadn't eaten in a day and a half.

[lilyrealm]

my ass FINALLY wrote a new fic after ages and ages and its a one shot for degrees of lewdity 🤪🤪 you can find it here or under the cut

its about mickey because i got the dialogue where they say "I missed you" and it really Got My Goat

At first, your visits were just business. You needed help putting your name out in the business world. You needed Mickey to scrub nude images of you off the internet. You needed people to know not to mess with you lest they get put in the hospital. Always needing tough favours that Mickey tried not to pressure you into going through with. They were all dangerous things to do, after all.

But you came back with a spring in your step. You said Wren was a delight, and even played cards with him. Mickey thought you were crazy, but then, you'd been in the asylum, and come out fine. When Mickey offered you a question, you shook your head and let them close the door. You helped Landry find his black box lost deep in the moor and emerged with wings and plumage.

One time, they'd made the mistake of saying "I missed you" when you came calling. You'd stared at them, eyebrows raised, mouth open slightly. "Forget I said that," they said immediately. From outside, they thought they heard Landry chuckle.

You started to come more often. Mickey had gotten cameras set up in the pub for their own safety, but sometimes they'd catch themselves watching you banter with Landry, drinking and passing stolen goods under the counter.

You were stealing more and more. They'd heard the museum was slowly filling up with artifacts you'd found. You were asking Landry for help clearing your name more and more often. Mickey's gaze would slide over their computer, wondering if they ought to help you out. Their hands froze above their keyboard, a sinking feeling within them.

Mickey didn't get close to anyone for a reason. Bailey's punishments had taken away what little friends they'd had. Life was easier when you stopped caring so much about other people, and focused on surviving. Landry understood that, which was why Mickey liked working with him. He and Mickey had a mutually beneficial relationship, and he never tried to get more out of them like everyone else had, whether it be sexual favours, cyber favours, or just... trying to get close when Mickey didn't care about that.

They flexed their fingers and changed screens. If you needed help getting the police off your back, Landry was your guy. Mickey was here to help with your online presence. Which was atrocious, by the way. The fact that you had this many videos of you up was frankly astonishing. Then again, they knew it wasn't by choice. No one had a choice in this godforsaken town. Either you gave up your dignity or your life, and you didn't seem like the type to go down without a fight. Unless it played in your favour, of course. You'd told Landry you needed something from prison, of all places, and when he couldn't do anything to help you, had gotten yourself arrested.

Even time in jail didn't phase you. Apparently, you'd gotten help from Wren. Still a crazy option, in Mickey's opinion, but Wren was nothing if not a man of his word. Too close to Remy for comfort, but agreeable.

When you came in asking for help lowering your exhibition fame, Mickey asked you to remove their name from Bailey's computer. One of her thugs had been by the bar the other day, and Mickey had stayed in their room, but it was still too close of a call. They asked you to not get caught. "Please don't get caught," they reiterated seriously. Bailey is dangerous was the unspoken warning.

You nodded. Almost flippantly. Mickey should've been irritated, but their eyes fell on the tattoo on your thigh that read "Remy's cow". It reminded them of how much more you'd been through; that Mickey was lucky their skills kept them safe in the orphanage while everyone else got sold off.

The next day, Mickey was watching the cameras outside the pub (why yes, they'd added more) as some of Bailey's thugs loitered in an alleyway. They kept looking at the pub, which made Mickey anxious. But then you walked into view and they accosted you. Mickey watched, powerless, as they pulled you into the alley, holding your arms back and stripping you of your clothes. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, prowling the web for content of you to take down, but they instantly knew why Bailey's thugs were here. Bailey must've figured out you'd tampered with her computer.

Mickey's first instinct was to run. Though they doubted you would sell them out (you'd managed to escape interrogation at the Elk Street compound before, to their shock), they didn't know how much Bailey had figured out. Better safe than sorry, right? But Mickey looked to the screen again and took a deep breath. You'd proven strong all this while. Would it be too much to hope for that you'd accomplished your mission and this was just... Bailey's thugs on a day off? Yeah, right.

Still, five people at once was no joke. Mickey felt... awful, watching this like a voyeur, but what else could they do?

You were red in the face as they handled you brutally. You kept one man's dick away with your feet while you licked another woman's pussy. Though they couldn't hear much, they could tell by the way you convulsed that you'd cum. You took a deep breath, pulling away from the woman's crotch. The thugs' grip on you had loosened as you pleasured them, and Mickey watched your hand slip behind your back.

All of a sudden, the thugs fell back, screaming. One man covered his eyes as he took a direct shot of your pepper spray. The others tried to grab your arms, but you flailed, kicking with your high heels. It got one of them in the balls even as the woman held your arms behind you.

"You've only made them angrier," Mickey whispered. Should they get Landry? Would he even be able to help? They didn't want to take their eyes off of you, though. What if you collapsed the moment they looked away?

You pulled your arms out of the woman's grasp and aimed a kick at another thug. Your mouth was open, shouting, and though tears streamed down your face, you smirked derisively at them.

Mickey had seen videos of you punching rapists before, but today you didn't bother, unloading all your sprays upon them. They stumbled, screaming and grabbing blindly, but you dodged and weaved through their hands with the grace of a dancer. The last thug made a lunge for you, but you leaped away, running towards the pub.

Five minutes later, Mickey heard the familiar knock on their door. They got up, glancing at their computer screen, which showed the five thugs gathering themselves, eyes reddened, some of them clutching their genitals, where you'd really made it hurt.

You were already dressed in a new outfit, which Mickey assumed you'd gotten from the brothel nearby that you occasionally worked at. Your expression was mostly clear, though there was a certain anxiety around you that you couldn't hide.

Before Mickey could ask, you nodded and said you'd cleared their name from Bailey's computer. "There were all the other orphans' names as well. Full spreadsheet of everyone Bailey had ever sold, released or lost." It suddenly made sense why Bailey had sent so many thugs after you. One look in your eye and Mickey knew what you must've done. A million thoughts ran through their mind. It was reckless. It was stupid. It put a target on your back.

But in exchange, dozens of orphans were now free.

There was a slight pause, and you turned to leave. But Mickey intercepted you, awkwardly wrapping an arm around you while they mumbled, "You just saved a lot of people like me. Thank you." They quickly retreated into their room, but not before missing the soft expression on your face.

After that, Mickey found themselves looking forward to your visits more and more. When you came just to chat with Landry, Mickey watched, entranced. On days you came in looking haggard, their hands itched to hack all the cameras in town and find out what was plaguing you. Well, other than the usual terrors of living here. It'd gotten to the point that one day, you'd come in, knowing Mickey was done with their previous assignment, and left without seeing them, making them grouchy for the rest of the day. Landry brought food to them, and their reply was just snippy enough that he lingered, one foot in the door, an amused smile on his face.

"What?" Mickey asked, glaring.

"I reckon you've got a crush."

Mickey froze, food in hand, and turned slowly. Their murderous expression confirmed everything to Landry, who only whistled quietly.

"Get out."

He raised his hands in defeat, but he still wore that smug grin as Mickey slammed the door shut, clicking the locks into place.

[crazy56u]

Okay, I got two episodes to burn through (pun intended), and apparently we won’t find out until May if the show is getting renewed, so I’m a little peeved, but, here we go.

Last time on Quantum Leap: A whole bunch of Hannah.

Also, fucking Gideon indirectly forced Magic to throw himself under the bus.

Meanwhile in 2026/2024, Jen (in my head) spent a whole real time week trying to talk Magic out of this.

“I can’t imagine this place without you.” Well, if NBC decides to play fucking ball, maybe we won’t have to.

“Stay for one last leap?” “Not this time.” Show, I already said NBC was on thin ice with the on the nose shit.

And Ben leaps into that one level of Balan Wonderworld, so you know he’s in Hell.

“I’m a firefighter. Cool.” Ben, you are in the middle of a fire.

Oh goody, the TV committed suicide.

“We were testing my new circuit board-“ Either this kid is Hannah’s son, or he’s Kid Gideon. The literal only two options.

“Your dad is gonna be okay.” “That’s not my dad, he’s my neighbor.” Oh, so he can die then, cool.

“My dad died a couple years back. We all thought a heart attack would get him, but then he ran a red light.”

New Jersey fucking claims another victim…

“…mom, why are you looking like you know the firefighter? Does this have to do with that Cairo thing dad mentioned a couple years ago?”

And Ben is about to give Ziggy a stroke by exploring the stock market, and luckily Hannah is smarter than that.

Plot twist: Ben somehow caused that car accident.

“Hey, Ben, I know you’re in the middle of Hannah shit, but I gotta tell you about the Gideon plot now, sorry.”

Okay, so Ben’s guy is about to retire, shot in the dark, the leap has to do with him dying on the job.

Okay, I am now confident in my guess that this leap or the next will retcon Gideon from the plot if you’re doubling down on Magic “leaving”, I am confident.

“Whelp, I shoved a plant into a box, time to go.”

“You should have let them fire me.” Ian, no offense, but I am willing to bet Gideon is gonna demand all of you quit.

“Look, Jenn, I know you kept wanting me to not do this, so as a prize, you’re New Magic.”

So yeah, Magic is totally gone from the show for real, definitely gone- so anyway, back to Hannah.

“It’s been three leaps. I had some fun in the 80s.”

“Do I look old?” Hannah, you haven’t aged a day since 1948.

Ben, once again, unless you caused that car crash, stop blaming yourself.

Hannah is the key to Quantum Leap.

“This is the last episode I’m in, Ben. To celebrate, explosion.”

So, the plot has been hijacked by the Transformers, got it.

Okay, so now we’re doing The Towering Inferno.

CALLED IT

“Lady, stop acting like I’m talking to ghosts, I’m a firefighter, and you ain’t.”

“20 years of experience” is basically the Get Out of Jail Free card for this leap.

This is turning into the plot of a Webster episode…

How many fires has Hannah seen in her life, goddamn…

Ben, Hannah has seen Nazis and the ending of Red Dead Redemption, a fire ain’t nothing by comparison.

“The chagrined look on your face tells me Addison says I’m right, so I win.”

“HEY, WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKS ON THE DOOR, YOU ANSWER IT!” Fucking mic drop.

Great, now the fire is chasing you.

“We gotta go through the fire.” “Fuck that shit, even if this is our fault!”

And Gideon has been ripping out the wires… Or it’s because Ian had shit timing, either or.

And Hannah has decided this burning building needs a love triangle.

“The one thing I did that actually worked”, my ass. Ben, you kicked cancer’s ass last week.

“Look at this from a cosmic perspective.” Hannah, the last time someone said that in this show, they were looking to be stuck in the Imaging Chamber for 1600 years.

And now the Fire Sheilds are armed.

Hacking into the power grid to defend the rock, roll goddamn tide.

I love how this looks like a music video.

The fire is angry!

There, they escaped the music video.

…is Hannah gonna die this leap?

I actually admire the fact Jeffery didn’t sneak back inside to get Josh’s stuff. [And three… two… one…]

“I know I just inhaled a bunch of smoke, but I just solved the plot-” “Ben, the building exploded again, that means Jeffery snuck back inside.”

Ian is having his Khan moment, everyone is doing great mentally.

“Math’s just not mathin’.”

So, the DARPA code should be in a museum, got it.

Jenn, stop acting like Magic ain’t immediately coming back.

Hannah, it’s bad enough Ben keeps blaming himself for shit…

And now the fire is retaliating.

God is fucking pissed at you all this week.

“Look, I know I’m pinned, but Jeffery’s more important.”

If Hannah does this episode, then this is a shitty way to go, dear god…

And Hannah decides now is the time to solve the plot.

Jeffery, it’s your own fault this is happening, stop being bitchy.

Jeffery, if you don’t want to see a grown man cry, leave now.

ANNNNNNND THEY FORGOT TO GRAB THE DARPA FILE.

“Time isn’t a river. It’s an ocean. Hopefully you trapped that file from my apartment.”

And Hannah dies…

“Let me use my dying breath to fix your relationship problems.”

Crawling on the ledge of a burning building. If I had to do that, I would instantly die.

Yeah, Ian, just type shit!

…is that constant idea gonna be the thing to undo the time skip?

The only way is down. I would 100% die on the spot.

How is Ben not shitting himself in fear as he does this?

“I know you’re scared! I’m scared too!” NO SHIT

“Choose courage! Jump from the exploding building!”

“Let’s go save your mom!” Ummmmmm…

And back into the music video we go.

Oh, cool, Hannah still has life in her…

NBC, seriously, you need to renew this show.

And Ben gets bailed out by a mention of retirement.

“Tell her thanks. She knows.” Fuck yeah she does, she was the only one to solve the plot.

And Hannah’s code turns out to be Stop ‘n’ Swop.

And in comes the armed gunmen.

“I wanted Ian fired. Magic didn’t do that, so, fuck it.”

Hannah got a sneak preview to this movie, Ben, she doesn’t need to see it.

And Jeffery is about to learn about Ben.

I love how Hannah is getting the kind of goodbye montage a show does when a character dies… despite not being dead.

“I wrote DARPA code to get you home, Ben. I even had a file in my apartment containing the data, you grabbed it, right?”

“…lady, why was I hugging you?”

And Gideon decides to be an even bigger asshole than he was prior, so Addison decides to steal a gun.

Addison, don’t play chicken with the universe here…

…so, they have the spare keys to Beth’s house, I take it?

One down one to go. Gideon is 100% gonna get retconned.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Dialogue Parallels Between TWB Coda and Beth/Daryl From @wdway (Part 2)

@wdway:

I'm going to talk about the dialogue in the TWB coda but before I start I want to say that I just went to your Tumblr site, @twdmusicboxmystery to check out what you had written about the coda back in the day.

I probably should have done this days ago but I didn't and I wanted to see if what I'm about to present was a different direction from what you wrote and what we were discussing right after it aired. What I'm about to present is different. I've stated many times I'm not a writer but you guys are so I have many questions that I want to ask y'all about on your takes on the wording comparing it to Beth's journal entry from Inmates and some lines from episode Still.

I took a shot of the dialogue in the code from your post.

Beth's journal entry from Inmates.

Hey. I know It's been a while. I'm going to be honest, I forgot about you. After the farm, we were always moving. But something happened. Something good. Finally. We found a prison.

Daddy thinks that we can make it into a home. He says we can grow crops in the fields, find pigs and chickens, stop running, stop salvaging. Lori's baby is just about due. She'll need a safe place when it comes. The rest of us we just need a safe place to be. I woke up in my own bed yesterday. My own bed in my own room.

But I've been keeping my bag packed. Keeping my gun close. I've been afraid to get my hopes up thinking we can actually stay here. The thing is, I've been starting to get afraid that it's easier just to be afraid. But this morning daddy said something. If you don't have hope, what's the point of living? So I unpacked my bag and I found you. So I'm going to start writing in you again. And I'm going to write this down now because you should write down wishes to make them come true. We can live here.

We can live here for the rest of our lives.

(This next part was voiced over at the end of Beth and Daryl segment of the episode as they are sitting across from each other with the fire between them.)

We're not going to die. None of us. I believe now. I believe for daddy. If this doesn't work, I don't know how I could keep going.

A few key lines from the fight scene between Daryl and Beth in episode Still.

Beth: killing them is not supposed to be fun. (Now I'm skipping down to just after Beth tells Darly that how he's acting is bullshit.) Daryl: Is that what you think? Beth: That's what I know. Daryl: You don't know nothing. Beth: I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid. Daryl: I'm not afraid of nothing. Beth: I remember.

When I went back and read the dialogue from the TWB coda I read it several times and certain words stood out to me. They, Them, Their and You. In this exchange the word They shows up 11 times. The word Them 2 times and the word Their 1 time. You 7 times.

W: "if they were to return here... to their work... they might end all of this.. even after all of this time." M: " they should be dead. If they aren't.. and they somehow come back like you... we won't jail them like the others. We'll kill them. End this. You started this. All the teams. Then.. you make it worse."

Gunshot.

I put in the dots, pauses between the words just as they showed up on the subtitles in the episode. You need to read the whole thing several times to get the true effect and being more conscious of how they phrase using they, them and the word, you, are used and what it could mean.

We know the woman changed very quickly after she is shot. It makes me wonder if she's sometime of variance. That when he's talking about they, them, you, he's not necessarily talking about regular people. Have the scientists use experimental drugs on themselves?

"If they somehow come back like you...we won't jail them like the others."

Would you guys check this out with a writers mind because I truly don't know if I'm making something out of nothing but I truly don't think this is nothing.

The thing that made me start thinking of Beth journal entry was the woman talking about hope.

W: I hoped against hope that they...were here. That some how they came back... and that they were still working. And that they were close. (A little further down again about hope.) W: I was tired of running. And I had that hope against hope. And I had to try." Beth: I've been afraid to get my hopes up thinking we can actually stay here. Beth: But this morning Daddy said something. If you don't have hope, what's the point of living? So I unpacked my bag and I found you. It may just be me but her journal had a similar feel to some of the coda women's dialogue.

Now looking at some of the dialogue from Still.

Beth: Killing (them) is not supposed to be fun. Daryl had just shot a walker for fun. Beth used her knife and stabbed it in the head killing it. In this instance the word them=walker. Beth: I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it but I 'cause I'm not like you or them.

Them=walker but Beth survived and she's not like Daryl or (them.) Am I crazy for connecting these three separate dialogues together? that there's overlapping themes here? Remember Matthew Negrete write both the TWB coda episode and Inmates along with Slabtown.

I'm speculating here (as always) that Gimple and Negrete put the coda in s2e10 The Last Light as a reminder of TWD s2e10, 18 Miles Out, that storyline focused between Rick and Beth and the 3 coda's in s5.

When Matthew Negrete wrote the dialogue for the coda he had certain phrases, words he wanted to include as a call back to certain episodes. That he reviewed Beth's journal entry from Inmates that he wrote just to give a hint for anyone who was looking closely because Beth is somehow the key to what we're going to see and find out in Daryl's spin-off.

I'm going to give you some words/phrases from the three sources I've talked about above TWB coda, Inmates journal and Still. Also a few shots from when certain words were used in episodes just to emphasize that all these words, dialogue and images has a purposeful plan in the new arc of the spin-offs.

From Inmates,

Beth: Daddy thinks we can make it into a home. Episode Home was s3e10. Beth: the rest of us we need a safe place to be. Beth: we're not going to die. None of us.

Episode Us s4e15. TLL coda,

French man: we won't jail them like the others. We'll kill them. Inmates, Beth: killing them is not supposed to be fun. Inmates, Beth: you should write down wishes to make them come true. Still, Beth: I'm not like you or them.

Episode Them s5e10.

Still, Beth: I remember.

Episode, Remember s5e12.

TLL coda,, French woman: I had to try. Consumed, Daryl: I'm trying.

Episode, Try s5e15.

@galadrieljones:

This is SUPER interesting. I need to go and watch some of these scenes I think and I need to think about this a bit. I will come back later tonight maybe to try and talk some of this through. I actually have like several pages in a notebook where I have logged episodes written by Gimple, Kang, Negrete, Powell, Reid, and a couple more.

I lost the notebook and like I can’t find it anywhere but for a while I was trying to draw connections as a way of trying to understand which writers are like, on certain beats.

This analysis fits really close with some connections I drew. One thing I noticed was that Matthew Negrete is really an interesting player here and his involvement in WB made me pretty sure that he has been on the CRM beat from the start, same with Channing Powell.

[westdallasgang]

Translation of Clyde Barrow's four page letter written to Ex-Barrow gang member, Ray Hamilton. This letter was most likely written by Bonnie who had the neater handwriting. Clyde also wasn't very literate and misspelled a lot in his own hand-written letters.

"Raymond, I’m very sorry to hear of your getting captured, but due to the fact that you offered no resistance, sympathy is lacking. The most I can do is hope you miss the chair. The purpose of this letter is to remind you of all the dirty deals you have pulled. When I came to the farm after you I thought maybe the joint had changed you from a boastful punk. However I learned too soon the mistake I had made. The first thing that aroused my suspicion was your suggestion of shooting Joe Palmer in the back while he was asleep. You soon learned how I felt about such cat ideas. Since then I’ve found your reasons for wanting to do this was because Joe was on the farm with you and knew what kind of a guy you were. The next impression was when we got the road blocked on us in the Ozarks and you were too yellow to fight. You cowered in the floorboard, afraid of being shot.

Now that you’re in the Dallas jail you have a tested pal, W.D. Jones, you might get a few pointers from him on how to impress the people you were an innocent, or possibly forced companion of the ruthless Barrow gang. You might be as lucky as he was in making them believe I kept you handcuffed or tied. When you wanted to get your Prostitute Sweetheart I thought it OK. But when you were so persistent about her going to town alone. That idea wasn’t so hot. I thought then and truthfully believe now that should she have gotten off without Bonnie she would have spotted us all. She hails from a rat family and you couldn’t expect better from her. You exposed your hole card when you stole the money from us on the Lancaster job. That’s what I have my rear vision mirror for to watch suspicious people. When I demanded a shake down you offered such strange excuses for having the money on you. I should have killed you then. I would have saved myself much bother and money looking for you. Far after you writing that letter saying you didn’t stoop so low as to rob filling stations I have done nothing but look for you. Should I have found you, you wouldn’t have had a chance to give up. You couldn’t stand the rift of the outlaw life. For one reason you were too yellow and knew you could never surrender with me and another reason you wanted to play ‘Big Shot,' sleep in hotels and ride passenger trains. You weren’t intelligent enough to know that you couldn’t live like a king and stay out. I don’t claim to be too smart. I know that some day they will get me but it won’t be without resistance. You only carried your guns around to show off or else kidnap women and children. I guess you find where your boastful long tongue has gotten you. Maybe you can talk yourself out of the chair. Or maybe you can write a few more letters (try one to the governor) at least it will gain you some publicity. When you started the rumor about Bonnie wanting a cut of the loot you sure messed yourself up. I have always taken care of Bonnie and never asked any thief to help me. I hope this will serve the purpose of letting you know that you can never expect the least of sympathy or assistance from me. So long.”

— Clyde Barrow

[dobits]

DAY 27 ... max braddy’s dumping confessional

did you see that dumping coming at all?

“am i a dumb cunt if i say no? it’s the most random night ever. and, look, i know everybody’s got big beef with dejan, but... at least the guy’s more interesting than most of the fools around here. i mean, c’mon, bash? maddox? rhys is only here to fluff josh, i’m telling you.”

do you think you deserved to stick around?

”fuck yeah,” max laughs, leaning back in the chair. “c’mon, you can’t look at my, what? five or six days here and say i had a fair chance. at least i made the most of my last couple.”

is there anything you would’ve done differently on the inside?

this takes some real thought. mostly because he was pretty drunk for a lot of it and the memories are all hazy. “i would’ve told josh me and jenny fucked raw.” the leering grin quickly melts off in favor of a manufactured look of sincerity. “just kidding, we totally used a condom. in the shower. yeah, always stay safe kids.” anyways. “nah, that was actually a really tender, meaningful thing to me. i mean, it was really fucking fun and i’m just lookin’ forward to seeing her on the outside. if anybody has any ideas for what could rhyme with shower, lemme know, ‘cause i’m drawing a blank.”

is there anyone else you would’ve liked to see leave instead?

”rhys and bash, obviously. but i get it, my fellow islanders wouldn’t know good tv if it smacked ‘em in their shiny, white veneers. oh, sorry, josh -- is it too soon?”

do you think any of the current couples have a shot at making it to the end?

“well, i’m gonna go on a limb and say josh and jenny’s time is probably running out,” he strokes his stubbled chin, half pretending to hide his growing grin. “there’s no way naomi and dylan are gonna last either. well, they’ll probably try their best to grit their teeth and power through it, but if the guy has any self-respect, he’ll grab the first bombshell he sees.”

 who would you like to see win?

“i think frankie and callie have a real shot, to be honest with ya. far as i can tell, they’re the realest ones in there. they got my vote.”

who do you think you’ll stay friends with after leaving the villa?

“me and josh are gonna go on a boys trip, first thing.” can’t even get the words out without snorting. “nah, i’m cool with everybody in there, i don’t give a shit. if you mean who do i think is gonna get more than just a follow back on ig? the usual suspects, of course - the blondes. frankie, jenny. seb and me always been chill. and, y’know, call me crazy, but i don’t think you’ve seen the last of me and miss naomi santos.” there’s a pause as he thinks, feels like he’s forgetting somebody. “oh, shit, dejan. hey, do you know which jail they dropped that fool off at?”

anything else you’d like to add about your time in the villa?

“was fun as fuck, i’m glad i got the opportunity. to those who were team max, i love you, baby. and, uh, yeah... oh, album’s dropping next month, stream it wherever you listen to music, and tour’s kicking off at the top of summer. first stop is the avalon. LA, i’m lookin’ at you. see ya’ll there.”