#and what you find out is that mentally i am still in season 3 with the specific stydia dynamic created therein

[bringthekaos]

I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them

It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and I’m hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just don’t be a dick about it, I’m not engaging in any discourse.

Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and I’m aware that this is because I don’t have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.

First and foremost, I’m… wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktor’s arc. So first the negative, and I’ll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I don’t need to be beating that particular dead horse.

Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasn’t. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed weren’t as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, it’s real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. It’s very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a character’s story arc when they themselves don’t feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but I’ll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktor’s whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, I’m not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really don’t think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone else’s invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Sky’s journal)… I’m sorry but no. This was Viktor’s idea, Viktor’s genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.

Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that he’s hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that it’s the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it “ate” her, and we have seen it “manipulate” him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Sky—he barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether it’s because he’s gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasn’t enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think it’s supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. I’m not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all it’s the second most popular ship in this show and it’s been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. I’m asking for the bare minimum here—that it’s left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.

Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I don’t enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole “ordained by a higher power” thing is just… stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktor’s original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that they’re going to end said Jesus arc the way you’d expect—with him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story “disabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.” Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.

Sorry, I know I said I’d keep the negatives brief, and that was… not. My bad. But moving on!

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesn’t ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.

Jayce.

Jayce.

Jayce.

I’d have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. He’s caring, he’s devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

And he’s funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that “this is ironic” face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested “so this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcane”:

GOD that shit was great. Jayce’s personality just shined, and maybe it’s too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, it’s now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.

And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I don’t think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionally—I dunno, vacant I guess—sounded so lost and scared when he said “what am I?” For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: “what have you done to me?” And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasn’t left this damn lab except to go to Cassandra’s memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesn’t want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he “recovers.” And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasn’t lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that “Jayce will not understand.” I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just… Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought he’d never get to say to Viktor—“I’m resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.”

And… the hug itself. I know we’re all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else sees—there is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But it’s gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.

There is something there, it’s just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say “I want this, I have wanted this for so long.” But then he realizes something, something I don’t think we’re meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesn’t feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesn’t. Or perhaps it’s something more along the lines of “it’s too late.” Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows he’ll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe he’s fighting against it, or maybe he’s fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)

Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz it’s turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think they’re extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he “cured” Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldn’t have been “joyous” at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things he’s trying to do in her memory. He wouldn’t crave that validation, that vindication from her. So I’m hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing I’m clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. “He’s still in there and I have to save him.” And that maybe it’ll start to work.

[vivitalks]

[read on ao3]

"You okay?"

Lydia has her elbows on her knees. Sitting in the waiting room of Deaton's clinic, her blue dress paradoxically bright against the bland color palette of the room, she's a contradiction unto herself. She looks tired and shaken. She looks glad to be alive. She looks unprepared to believe that being alive is going to last.

"I've been worse," is how she answers him. Then, "I've also been better."

Stiles takes the empty seat beside her.

"Feels like we're always hovering in the middle there," he offers.

Lydia nods. "Ethan and Aiden are going to be okay."

"Thank God," Stiles deadpans. "I would have been heartbroken to lose them.”

Lydia gently shoves him. "They did the right thing in the end. They're not that bad."

Stiles only hums, drumming on his knee with restless fingers. A deafening silence crowds them in. Stiles reflects on the events of the last twenty-four hours and finds them alarming when compressed into such a small time frame.

"What's on your mind?" he dares to ask, after the quiet is almost insurmountably heavy. If Deaton is still in the exam room with the twins, they're being very quiet. Suspiciously so. Something for Stiles to check on, once he's done checking on Lydia.

Lydia who is smoothing out her dress with a persistence that could be called obsessive. Every motion creates a new wrinkle, and every time, Lydia flattens it under her thumb.

"Oh, you know." Her tone is light, but her twisting fingers betray just how uneasy she is. "Thinking about how the last time I was sitting in this waiting room, you were dead for sixteen hours."

Stiles takes that one to the solar plexus, though he's not sure how else it could be taken.

"I wasn't…really dead. It was more like a long sleep. A long, icy sleep."

"You stopped breathing." Lydia stares lasers into her knees. "You didn't have a heartbeat. Deaton kept saying it was okay, that this was normal, that if something was really wrong we would know, but he was lying, I could tell. He wouldn't let us near you guys — he said he didn't want us interfering with the process." A fist forms in her lap, creasing the folds of her dress. "Sixteen hours. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep. I just sat here. Waiting. Hoping Deaton wasn't full of shit."

"And he wasn't," Stiles says, morbidly upbeat. "We came back!"

"You don't get it," Lydia says, sounding angry and scared and deeply wounded all at the same time.

Stiles frowns. If she would just look at him, maybe he could read her expression, but he can't tell what she's thinking from the set of her shoulders. "So help me get it."

Lydia breathes out, out, out, expelling air like it's a toxic gas.

"Humans have a reflex," she says in a small voice, staring through her palms. "It prevents them from drowning until the last possible second. The survival instinct is so powerful that it overpowers the breathing instinct, even when holding your breath becomes excruciatingly painful. It's called—”

"Voluntary apnea," Stiles says dumbly.

Lydia looks up at him and nods once. Her green eyes latch onto his.

"You told me once that death happens to the people around you," she says, biting her lip. "I can't imagine how it must have felt to be in that ice bath…but can you imagine how it felt to be the one holding you down?"

Stiles is too dumbstruck to answer.

"I killed you. I did that. It doesn't matter that it was temporary. I didn't know that, we didn't know that for sure. I held you in that water until you died, Stiles." Her hands tremble. "You were dead for sixteen hours because of me. I was a murderer. For sixteen hours."

"Whoa whoa whoa, hey," Stiles says. His 'Protect Lydia Martin' instinct is back online and the alarm is blaring. He grabs her hands in both of his, keeping them still and warm.

"Okay, first of all, you didn't murder me. It was consensual drowning! If anything it was more like assisted suicide." Lydia glares. "Not helping. Right. Sorry. Um, but secondly, and— and way more importantly, Lydia, yeah, maybe you temporarily killed me, but you also— you brought me back to life." 

She’s unmoved, he can tell, so he shakes her gently. "Yeah. You did that. Look, anyone can kill me. I'm not even six feet of fragile bones and zero muscle mass, and my best friend's a freakin' werewolf, okay, killing me is not impressive. Bringing me back? That takes something else. Something special, and only someone who—" He tries not to stammer but his tongue sabotages him, "who cares about me enough to bring me back to life could do that, and honestly, those are in short supply, so yeah. Maybe you were a temporary murderer, but you were also a savior. My savior." He smiles weakly. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Lydia holds his gaze. She holds his hands, too — not passively but decisively, clutching them like a lifeline, like she's the one who's drowning. Reflecting once again on the past twenty-four hours, it occurs to Stiles that he is not the only person for whom that stretch of time has been alarming.

"That's certainly a nicer way of looking at it," she yields softly. Then she shakes her head. "But it doesn't change the fact that in order to save you, I had to kill you." Now she weaponizes that arresting stare, seaglass green pinning him to his seat. "I'm never doing that again, you understand? I can't."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

"You don't know what it was like," she murmurs — seemingly talking to herself now, more than him, anyway. "Watching you. And I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything but sit there."

Something niggles Stiles's brain, that feeling he gets when a few different threads braid themselves into a discernible pattern. The emotional tether. Lydia's remorse. Sixteen hours of sitting and waiting.

"Sitting there was exactly what you were supposed to do," he realizes, also half to himself. It gets her attention anyway; she frowns at his conclusion. Stiles goes on: "An emotional tether, Deaton said, someone to bring us back, I didn't really get it, how that could work, but you just said it. You all just sat there. For sixteen hours. You waited. You stayed, so I had someone to come back to. The way only a tether could do. Think about it, right? If a fisherman casts a line and then walks away from the fishing pole, it doesn't matter whether he hooks a fish because no one is there to reel it in."

"Are you comparing yourself to a fish?"

"We were underwater, I was thinking about water, it was the first metaphor that came to mind, give me a break,” Stiles says defensively. "My point is, sixteen hours is a long time. Long enough to get bored, to lose faith, to give up and walk away and pronounce us dead. But you guys didn't. You didn't."

"Deaton said—”

"You just told me you thought Deaton was full of shit. But you stayed anyway, right?" Stiles presses, looking Lydia in the eye. "You had a feeling. Or maybe you just believed. Whatever it was, you stayed. That's how you brought me back. You thought you weren't doing anything, but you were doing the most important thing." He squeezes her hands. "You were waiting for me."

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts

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@abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

[mianexil]

◇ Misunderstanding ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Angst ⭕️

💫 [ I love these boys so much, and I don't want them to worry, but I couldn't get this angst out of my head, I had to write it ]

💫 [ Cuties, I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I needed to rest and regain my mental strength after the recent events in my life. I have managed to do a lot during this time. Although the July rainy season was killing me with the weather, but I'm already fine. My small trips that I have made during this time have allowed me to find inspiration again, so I am with you again ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Umemiya, Sakura

Umemiya

The white-haired head of Bofurin had just returned home, humming to himself some song he had heard from the radio while working with vegetables on the roof.

Umemiya was impatient with the desire to embrace the love of his life, which warmed his heart like a ray of sunshine. So, after taking off his shoes, he immediately headed to the kitchen, where you were presumably.

However, before entering the kitchen, he froze when he heard a sharp exclamation.

《 Why did you come here again?! 》

"Why did you come here again..?"

Umemiya's hand trembled over the handle of the door, which he had not yet managed to open, and immediately another stream of curses rang out.

《 Why are there so many of you?! I'm suffocating! Can you just leave me alone for a day? 》

Hajime's heart sank into his heels.

“What? Why? Suffocating? ...I..am I boring her..?"

Thoughts instantly flashed through the white-haired man's head, and then there was an overly loud minute of silence in his thought space.

It seemed that his heart was about to stop from realizing all this.

Pain pinched in his chest and moisture had already appeared in his blue eyes, but Umemiya restrained himself.

Deep breath.

Umemiya is the type of person who will go and talk even if he is in pain, even if he knows that he is about to get a dagger in his heart, because you are the love of his life. He is ready to open his heart for that very dagger himself, if it is in your hand.

He needs to hear it directly, listen to you, talk and fully understand the situation, even if it hurts him.

Nevertheless, the hand presses the door handle and the desperate gaze of Umemiya is presented with a picture of how you, with slightly swollen eyes and a clogged nose, express dissatisfaction to a large piece of fluff that you hold between your fingers.

Someone planted poplar fluff on your street and now, with the onset of summer, it clogs the whole street and flies into the windows, preventing you from living peacefully without allergies.

Turning around at the sound of the door opening, you see your boyfriend, who seems to be on the verge. The sight of Umemiya, who now looks more like the most unhappy puppy in the world, makes you go into shock for a few seconds.

Of course, you immediately rush to your lover with dumbfounded eyes and gently wrap your hands around his face.

When asked about what happened, he asks you in a firm voice, as usual, but slightly trembling at the end, who your previous words were intended for.

Having clarified the situation, you immediately find yourself in his strong and silent embrace. The silence is broken only by his soft sob.

This poor boy has just gone through too much in 3 minutes.

For the next hour, you will have to hold Umemiya in your arms, wipe away tears, soothe and assure him that you are not tired of him, that you still love him more than anything in the world and that he will never be "too much" in your life.

Oh, dear, take care of him, because he loves you too much.

Sakura

《 You don't understand, he's constantly nervous and yelling at me all the time. I'm sick of it already! To me..it seems to me that soon I will simply not stand it and leave.. 》

You were so immersed, emotionally complaining to your friend on the phone about the new teacher, that you didn't notice how your boyfriend froze in the doorway and had been listening to your conversation for several seconds.

Turning away from the window, you finally noticed Sakura.

ㅡ Oh, honey

Quickly concluding your dialogue with your friend with the promise that you will call back soon, you went to him.

ㅡ Has something happened?

You pull your hand to his forehead to remove the two-colored hair that fell over his eyes, covering his face, but he silently intercepted your hand.

ㅡ Why...

ㅡ What?..

ㅡ Why are you touching me?

There is anger in his tone, but you both understand that pain and resentment are hidden behind it. You felt the feeling of Sakura still holding, but not squeezing your hand. Even now, he treated you with care.

The voice dropped almost to a whisper, leading you more and more into misunderstanding and making you wary.

《 Do you hate me? 》

At that moment, there was silence in the room. Fright washed over you in an instant.

It seemed like another second and he would have run away, but you managed to grab him by the collar. A firm but careful grip.

《 What are you saying, Sakura? 》

This conversation didn't last long, but it was hard. You were so worried that you made this kitten go through this moment of shock, and it took Sakura at least ten minutes for him to let go of the shock of those experiences.

You spent the rest of the day together. His head rested on your lap, and his hands were still gently but tightly wrapped around your waist while you gently hugged him, stroking his head, restoring him from shock and occasionally scolding him for allowing such a terrible thought that you would treat him so cruelly. Sakura, on the other hand, was silent for a lot, but when he spoke, it was with words of apology and a quiet, but incredibly warm for your heart declaration of love.

His fragile heart is in your hands and you both know it. He gave it to you himself, so take care of it.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[vax-merstappen]

F1 boys falling for you <3

these got kind of long lol, but i thought you’d rather have more of a storyline than less of one lol. Prefs are below the line :)

Lando Norris

It was your first season as an f1 driver and you had been performing surprisingly. As both the only woman on the grid and a rookie, you were drawing a lot of attention from the media.

The media wasn’t the only one paying attention to you, however. “Lando, just go talk to her!” Carlos exclaimed, walking up to his former teammate. “You’ve been staring so hard your eyes are going to fall out.”

“Shut up, mate.”

“You like her, no?”

“Of course not!” Lando exclaimed. Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Well maybe a little.”

“Then go talk to her, mate!” When Lando didn’t move, Carlos grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him in your direction. You turned to the guys, an amused expression on your face.

“Y/N, this is Lando. Lando has had a crush on you for the whole season but hasn’t got the cojones to tell you about it.”

Carlos shoved Lando in your direction and walked away. His face was bright red.

“Was he telling the truth?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Lando admitted. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I was going to tell you myself.”

“Well then tell me.”

“I, Lando Norris, have had a crush on you all season.”

You smiled at Lando. “Would you want to get dinner sometime?”

Lando’s face, less red now, lit up. “Of course.”

Oscar Piastri

It was the final concert on your tour and you were performing in Melbourne. Little did you know that a certain formula 1 driver who was a fan had decided to attend the concert.

The concert went amazing and you stepped backstage to see your best friend waiting for you.

“Y/N! You did amazing!”

“Thanks!”

“Omg you won’t believe who I saw in the crowd.”

“Who?”

Your friend smiled. “Oscar Piastri! He’s a formula 1 driver and apparently he’s a huge fan of yours. You have to invite him backstage!”

You couldn’t help but be curious about this guy and so you instructed security to go find him and invite him backstage. When he arrived, he clearly looked shy and a bit embarrassed to be there.

“You must be Oscar!”

“I am. And you’re Y/N.”

You nodded and smiled. “I heard you’re a fan of mine?”

“You could say that,” Oscar said with a gulp.

“What would you call yourself?”

“A guy who never imagined he’d be asked backstage by his dream girl.”

Max Verstappen

Max had just left his apartment to go pick up groceries when he saw you walking down the street, looking very lost. He walked up to you.

“Hey, do you need help?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m studying abroad here and I have no idea which way to go to get to the university.”

Max smiled and gave you the directions you needed and you thanked him and headed on your way. For the rest of the day, he kept thinking back to his interaction with you and how you looked so cute. He mentally kicked himself for not asking for your number.

A week had gone by, and you were still on Max’s mind. He had no way of finding you again and did not even know your name.

Fate must have been on his side, as when he walked out of his apartment that day, he saw a familiar figure walking down the street. He tried not to look to eager as he walked up to you. “Did you manage to get to the university the other day?”

“Yes! Thanks again for the help,” you responded.

“I had one problem with my directions the other day I realized.”

“You did? I made it there alright, so no worries.”

“I forgot to ask your name and number.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, surprised that the gorgeous stranger you met the other day had been attracted to you too. “Y/N,” you responded as you typed your number into his phone.

“I’m Max,” he said. “I’ll text you tomorrow and see if there’s a time we could meet up.

You nodded. “I would love that.”

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a childhood friend of yours. You had seen him grow up and become the incredible man he is today. You had always been close, but Charles had come to want something more with you. To take your relationship to the next level.

It was a warm day during his summer break where he invited you to spend the day with him. You had gone on a hike in the hills of Monaco and had laughed and chatted the whole way there. When the two of you got to the top, you stared out at the stunning view. But when you looked at Charles, you saw he was looking at you instead.

“Do you have something to say?” you asked.

“Yes. Every time I see you, I can’t help but think how beautiful you are. I want you to be mine.”

“How long have you wanted this?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You leaned over and kissed Charles. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time too.”

He paused for a second before pulling you close and kissing you back. The rest of the afternoon was spent together, happier than either of you had been in a while.

Carlos Sainz

One of the perks of being an f1 presenter was the time you got to spend with the drivers. Of course there were some you preferred to interview over others, but you enjoyed getting to know them all. What you didn’t realize was that for Carlos, one of the perks of being an f1 driver was getting to spend time with you. Before each Grand Prix, he would look for your face in the sea of media personnel. It usually wasn’t hard for him to find you, as someone so beautiful easily stood out from the crowd. Every time he saw your name on his media schedule, Carlos would get butterflies in his stomach. For someone brave enough to drive an f1 car, you were enough to make Carlos nervous.

At first you didn’t notice, but Carlos began to come up to you before every race. He wanted so desperately to show you that he liked being around you and that he really wanted to take your relationship to the next level. After the fourth week of him speaking with you before a race, you finally talked to him.

“Carlos, fancy seeing you again. You’re not on my schedule for today,” you greeted.

“I know, but I’m so sick of watching you from afar. I love to be around you and I’m sick of wanting you and not having you.”

“Oh, uh…”

“Are you free tomorrow night? To get dinner with me?”

“Are you asking me in a date.”

“Yes, I should have done so a long time ago.”

“Well since you admit that, yes I am free.”

Lewis Hamilton

As a trainer in a celebrity gym in London, you often found yourself in the company of athletes of all sorts. However, the man who had recently started coming to your gym and asking you for advice had not stuck out as anyone in particular you should recognize.

The first week you had seen him, he had asked you to help spot him with the weights he was lifting. You had agreed and helped him, without making much conversation. The second week, you had caught him watching you as he ran on the treadmill but he did not come over to you. The third week, he had asked for some advice on which machines he should use even though you could tell he already knew what he was doing.

And this week, he had come up to you with a box in hand. “I’m sorry if this is a bit forward, but I’ve noticed you the past few weeks I’ve been in here and I think you’re really cute. Would you want to go on a date with me.”

Thinking he was cute, you responded, “Sure. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Lewis. Lewis Hamilton.” He flipped open the box to show you what was inside. “I got you this bracelet. I noticed you always fidgeting with your other one and I thought you might like another to go with it.”

You smiled. “How thoughtful! I’m y/n by the way.”

“Y/N. I like it.”

Daniel Ricciardo

For years, Daniel had disliked his media duties. Of course he would put on a smile for the press, but interviews were not actually super enjoyable for him. Until he got a new PR manager and he couldn’t help but look forward to press duties.

“Ok, Daniel. So today we’ve got the press conference this morning and then an interview with sky sports this afternoon.”

“Yep! Who else is at the conference?”

“Nico, Carlos, Fernando, and Oscar,” you replied. “I’ll sit off to the side and watch so we can debrief before heading to the next interview.”

“Oh, you’ll be watching me then?”

“Yeah, Daniel, like I always do.”

“Well I’ll be watching you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t seem to keep my eyes off you. I know it’s unprofessional, with us working together and what, but going to interviews with you makes my day.”

“What are you trying to say, Daniel?”

“Would you go out with me? On a date? That’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

You looked down, your cheeks turning red. “You have a way of flustering me, Daniel.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes.”

Yuki Tsunoda

Had anyone asked Yuki who his celebrity crush was, he would have said you. As a famous actress, you had been in a good number of Yuki’s favorite movies and he could just never seem to get your face out of his head. Despite both of you having many connections, you had yet to meet in person.

It only took a twist of fate and a gala for a mutual sponsor to bring you together. You were starring in the latest advertising campaign for a brand that has sponsored AlphaTauri for the upcoming year. You walked into the event wearing a stunning red dress and Yuki was immediately starstruck. His celebrity crush was here in person with him.

His jaw dropped open slightly as you locked eyes with him from across the room. He had dreamed of this moment for years and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was in fact dreaming. You waved and began to walk over to him and Yuki pinched himself to snap out of that stupor.

“Hi, you’re Yuki, right? The formula 1 driver?”

“Oh, um, yes. That is me,” he responded.

“I’m y/n!” you said cheerfully.

“I’m so excited to meet you! You are my favorite actress.”

“Am I really?”

“Yes! I watched all your movies!”

You saw Yuki’s obvious excitement and decided to chat with him for a while longer. A while longer ended up becoming the whole night and you and Yuki exchanged contact information to meet again.

At the end of the night he told you that you were his celebrity crush for a long time and you responded that it was quite obvious from the start.

Alex Albon

As an f1 driver, Alex was not home a lot. But somehow every time he came home, he managed to run into you. You both were neighbors, so it wasn’t exactly weird, but Alex was sure it was fate that you kept meeting. You see, Alex had what was comparable to an airport crush on you. He didn’t see you often and only from afar, but he couldn’t help but think about you after he had gone from home.

This time, Alex was going for a jog when he saw you struggling with a pile of boxes. He paused for a minute before crossing over to your driveway.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just moving some boxes of donations to the animal shelter I volunteer at.”

The fact that you loved animals so much endeared you to Alex even further.

“Are you sure I can’t help? I was just going to jog, lifting boxes could be my exercise instead.”

You could hardly refuse the stunning man standing before you and he helped you get your car packed to go to the shelter. You found that you enjoyed his company.

“Can I be honest with you?” Alex asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ve come to like you since we’ve been neighbors. And I was wondering if you’d want to go out with me on a date? You’ve always seemed so nice.”

“Sure. Just maybe next time it can be something other than putting boxes in a car.”

Logan Sargeant

As a streamer for Quadrant, you regularly streamed and discussed Motorsport content. The only driver on the grid you had met was Lando, but little did you know another driver had been watching your content.

Logan had fallen asleep one night with YouTube on and woken up to one of your videos on his screen. He immediately loved how you looked and as he continued to watch, the thoughtful way you talked about Motorsport really resonated with him.

A few days later, after watching a bit more of your videos and one of your streams, he sent a message to Lando asking for your number. Lando, knowing the two of you would be perfect for one another, agreed to play matchmaker and gave you both each other’s contact information.

Logan was thrilled to be able to text you and soon the two of you hit it off. Logan couldn’t help but fall even further for you every time you messaged and his heart would skip a beat every time he saw you go live. Needless to say, the American man had fallen hard.

[chai-berries]

i’m a little crybaby bitch & i just sobbed over a movie but all i could think about is being abby’s little crybaby gf & having her comfort me </3

sooo unfortunately/fortunately i am not a big crier when it comes to anything but one of my best friends is a happy/sad/bored crier and i’ve helped her calm down post cry a few times. she’s a true cancer <3 i’ll channel her into my thoughts.

im thinking of two scenarios, watching something sad without abby & watching it with her ⤵️

watching without abby:

she’d probably be working on something in another room when you decide to start a sad fucking movie. abby’s ears perk at the first sniffle, but she brushes it off cause it’s always allergy season. but when she hears you shakily breathe out “oh,,, my gOD” with your voice all broken and wet, she’s immediately sliding to a stop right outside the living room. you’re curled up with a huge blanket swallowing you, surrounded by snacks and your emotional support water bottle. she notes your wide, glossy eyes and coos “baby what’s wrong?” and you gesture at the tv, “she - she just loves her family so so much! and she couldn’t tell them before they died!” your voice is cracking around your words.

abby has absolutely no idea who “she” is but that doesn’t keep her from sitting down and pulling you into her side, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. “they’re just a - a great family” you stutter though tears. abby looks up at the tv and sighs. “baby, why did you chose the saddest movie on netflix?” you hesitate. “uh, i was up to the challenge?” “yeah? how’s it going?” she quirks a brow at you. you laugh wetly and abby mentally fist pumps. she presses a kiss to your temple. “okay, how about we watch something happy. ill refill your water.” abby gets up to go into the kitchen when she’s stopped by a tug on her back belt loop. you’re looking up at her, eyes less glossy but still not dry enough. “what?” she asks. “thanks for putting up with a crybaby for a girlfriend.” she picks up your hand from its place at her waist and brings it up to her lips. “anything for you sweet cheeks”

watching with abby:

“no, no, no, nah, not happening! abby, please tell me they’re not gonna do what i think they’re gonna do!” you pause the movie and shake abby’s shoulder, your face so serious in the light of the television. abby giggles and shrugs like a fucking twerp and nudges you to keep watching the movie. she tells you that “you’ll find out soon - keep watching” like she’s never, in all the time you’ve been together, been witness to the millions of times you deep dived imdb and wikipedia five minutes into a movie whenever it starts out with a sad scene.

you don’t do sad movies. and it’s for a good reason! you get all dehydrated and you look sick for hours afterwards!! it’s embarrassing and gross!! abby has witnessed it once and, like her father’s daughter, handed you a glass of water and pulled you gently into her arms, holding you until you got your breathing under control. and that was a week before you asked her out!! on your first date she told you that the crying thing made her want to “take care of you forever”… is it too obvious to point out that she soooooo got lucky that night?

however, in present time she might be sleeping on the couch for trying to get a depressing movie past you. she apologizes to you, tucking you under her arm. “i promise it’s gonna be worth your tears, okay?” she kisses your head. “and i always take care of my crybaby girlfriend, don’t i?” she kisses the same spot again. you relax into her side.

… sooo it’s safe to say you sobbed a whole lot at the end and completely soaked the front of abby’s shirt. you guys had shifted horizontal mid-movie, you laying on top of her. “i hate you” sounds a lot more honest when you’re not desperately clutching at the waist of the person you’re talking to. “but it was a good story, right?? aww i’m sooo sorry, baby,” abby rubs your back. she hands you your water bottle and chocolate before you even think to ask, like she always does. then, you begin the embarrassingly to you cute to abby process that involves sips of water, bites of chocolate, and your head following the rhythm of abby’s chest up and down as you match her breaths.

<\3

no but really we all know abby will always comfort you even if she has no context to what you’re crying about! ride or die babyyyy

[matthewsgreybubbles]

I feel like we need a group for us softdom Spencer truthers - come on that boy is such a sassy little bitch who like to practically inhale the person he’s kissing, he wouldn’t utter the word mommy

Alright baby, take a drink because this is going to be LONG.

Because I don't think that soft dom Spencer is that much out of character. Honestly, I find it more accurate than some of the sub! Spencer I saw. Spencer is a worshipper, he's sub in that way but he is dom in the way he handles things. I'm not sure this is clear so let me explain-

Mentally Spencer is a sub, physically he's a dom.

Let's talk about early seasons Spencer first. Because that Spencer was not confident nor experienced enough to dom. He was supposed to be a chronically virgin. BUT, but, but- listen- have you seen the way he kissed that girl in the pool in season 1? Lyla? I think? Anyway, Amber Heard. The way he kisses Amber Heard in that pool SCREAMS dom. I think he always had that dog in him you know? He was just not expressing it. But oh boy-

The more we go through the seasons the more he becomes confident and cocky. Remember that episode in season 3 with the kid shooting the people from his school? Where he disrespected Hotch's orders and just sent everybody to fuck themselves? Or the "This is calm, and it's doctor". See what I'm talking about? He becomes sassy and cocky and he let his little "dom side" out.

But that being said Spencer is not violent or whatever and even "soft dom" is a bit too harsh for him. It's "really really really soft soft dom Spencer". It's dom Spencer in the bedroom who puts his whole heart into the deed, hm?

NONETHELESS, Spencer is a hot mess, he whimpers and cries, he's needy and putty in your hands. Soft dom Spencer is a worshipper. He wouldn't utter the word "mommy" no- But he would ask for your praises. Dude, he has such a praise kink. I think it's more the type to ask if he's making you feel good, if you love him, if you love what he's doing, etc. And boy he learns fast on that field so YES.

And it gets worse after prison. Post-prison Reid is even more "soft dom", it grows. He becomes more clingy, more firm in his touches, his hands are always on you, he's always needing reassurance, always needing you to listen to what he says to you because he is an anxious little bean. He will do nasty things to you while worshipping just to hear you tell him he did good. After prison he's rougher in his touches, he becomes more manhandling. But it's still Spencer so it's not that much violent but.

Soft dom Spencer is just a worship sub. He doesn't degrade or whatever. He just needs to be reassured by your obedience and he puts PASSION in rewarding you.

I think he's heavy on foreplay and stuff, even more than in the deed itself. I mean, once again, THE KISSES PEOPLE THE KISSES. The way he fucking kissed Cat against that door? I swear to God OPJFGHIOEZK. I am SPIRALLING.

Am I going too far again? Yeah probably.

Sorry for the rambling lmao.

[ohmytyong]

the color of you [teaser]

cover art made by @/salgoolulu on Instagram

“you picture your emotions through words, while I try to voice out my own feelings with photos”

PAIRING: college student!jaemin x college student!reader (female!reader) x college student!mark

GENRE: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, college au, 90s au, love triangle au, best friend!jisung, best friend!yeri, suggestive (if you squint)

TEASER WARNINGS: none!

WC: tba (TEASER WC: 1,8k)

‣[PLAYLIST]: margaret by lana del rey (ft. bleachers), frozen by sabrina claudio, bonfire by wave to earth, yosemite by lana del rey, blue by troye sivan (ft. alex hope), naked by sabrina claudio, let the light in by lana del rey (ft. father john misty)

SUMMARY: winter to spring to fall — seasons change all the time, and life takes turns you never saw coming. as you’re trying to figure out your true love in your career path, you’re also trapped between the hearts of two boys who try to teach you how to find your real colors, by teaching you how to love.

A/N: finally a glimpse of what i've been working on (and still am) for over six months. the writing process is painfully slow, but this story feels like nothing i have ever written before. it feels intimate to me, and i can't wait to share the full story with all of you <3

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Thursday, October 9th, 1997

Τhere is a fine line between love and passion. It is easy to confuse one for the other, and sometimes the boundaries become so blurry that love merges into passion and passion merges into love. Passion is a state of being — it resembles a phase of complete ecstasy that you wish would last forever. It fills you with a sudden burst of happiness that is so strong, it needs to become temporary, otherwise its effect weakens.

Love is more of a state of living — it draws you in, it roams around you like the strong scent of cologne, it captivates you in an invisible way, almost as if it does not exist, and no matter what your state of mind or being is, it will always find you in the form of solace. This is exactly what gives it longevity in its effect.

You tried to keep a mental note of these thoughts for the time being until you could write them down, before you completely forgot about them and they ceased to exist.

You were standing outside your favorite café in Seoul, patting your hair and brushing your fingers through thick strands to untangle them. Fall was your favorite season when you could hear the crunchy sound of leaves under your shoes or the patter of raindrops on your umbrella, but one thing you were certainly sure of was that you were not particularly very fond of the wind.

With a firm push on the door, you stepped inside the place you liked to call your second home and, almost in a cartoon-like way, you rushed towards the front counter, drawn in by the magical, mythical, delicious scent of caramel.

The boy behind the counter was busy placing pastries in a paper box and didn’t immediately notice your presence, even though you thought that he could sense how much you were craving that cup of hot caramel latte you were dreaming about all morning.

“Jisung,” you raised your voice as you spoke, and the boy jolted up in the air at the sound of somebody calling his name, the box of pastries in his hands flying everywhere around him. You liked to mess with him in this way because of his sensitivity towards abrupt loud noises. You didn’t want to, but it always spread your lips into a smiley smirk when he would jump around and drop whatever he was holding. Exactly what happened right now.

“Oh my God, Y/n,” he said breathlessly, pressing one hand on his chest to calm his heartbeat. You let out a soft giggle at his reaction and he narrowed his eyes at you. “I just like to tease you, Ji,” you said as he bent down to pick up the box and the now dirty pastries. He threw away the pastries in a trash can under the counter and placed the box aside in the counter behind him. He rolled his shoulders backwards as he came towards the cash register and swayed his head left and right to move his bangs out of his face. “Alright, alright,” he whispered to himself and he cleared his throat, straightening his back even further. He flashed a wide smile towards you and spoke in a voice that seemed loud to him, but to your ears it still sounded like his usual velvety soft tone. “Welcome to Caramel Craze, what can I get you?”

“Just my regular, Ji,” you said and he kept a note of your order on a small scratch pad, even though he knew your order by heart. “I’ll go sit down at our table, you can come join me when your shift ends. Also, just so you know, Yerim is coming too so be more alert. You know I go easy on you with the jumpscares but she doesn’t,” you said and he laughed at the mention of your friend Yerim, who liked to tease him just a little bit more.

“Okay, you go sit and I’ll be back with your order,” Jisung said and you stretched your arm to ruffle his hair playfully.

You always sat at the table furthest back in the shop right next to the wall-length window. Whatever the season, you enjoyed the access to viewing the outside world through the perspective of the glass that separated you from the people on the other side of it. Today, the atmosphere was covered by dark clouds of gloom that seemed harmless, with no intention of rain. You hadn’t realized how angry the wind was until you looked at the way the branches of the trees moved back and forth to the wind’s direction and the people struggling to walk through the windy force. Behind the glass window, it was peaceful and quiet.

You sat down at your and your friends’ designated table and took out your sketchbook and pencils. Looking around the small coffee shop, you noticed a girl standing, waiting in line to order her drink and possibly a little sweet treat to go along with it. She was wearing a long plaid skirt, falling down to her ankles, paired with a short jean jacket that ended right at the start of her waist. What if she added a leather corset? The length of the skirt kinda throws me off. Maybe a shorter skirt, chunkier shoes, different texture on the jacket-

You picked up your pencil and quickly drew lines that resembled a female human figure. Eyes darting from the girl to your sketchbook, back at the girl and your sketchbook again, you started gaining inspiration for new clothing designs. That’s why you decided to study fashion design; the possibilities of mixing and matching colors, patterns and textures were endless, and your creative mind couldn’t help but be fascinated by the art of fashion.

You were drawing quick rough sketches of clothes, making small changes here and there, trying to find a new, innovative, interesting design to present in class. For the last couple weeks, you were completely stuck and couldn’t create anything. The scholarship abroad wouldn’t be yours if you presented some boring, mediocre stuff.

Lately, you found yourself deprived of inspiration. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why this was the case, but anytime you picked up your pencil to draw new patterns of clothes, your hand automatically moved away from your sketchbook and gravitated towards the pocket-sized notebook you kept on the side of your desk, and all you could do with your pencil was to write words.

the flowers inside my mind wither and fall;

dark fog covers the sky that hangs above my consciousness

i hate to see you wilt —

perhaps a new seed will grow on the ground

and replace the void with color

regeneration mirrors the art of becoming again

Setting your sketchbook and pencil on the side, you moved to take out the small notebook from the front pocket of your bag, flipping the pages to find a blank one and quickly writing down the words that came to your mind at that moment. This is what you always did when you felt stuck. You could never voice the thoughts occupying your mind, so you wrote them down instead. It was always easier to put them in place this way.

A loud bang resonated in the small café and you jolted up in surprise, dropping your pencil on the table. This is probably how Jisung feels, I get it now. You lifted your head to see your friend Yerim setting her bag and extra books on the table as she sat down on the chair across from yours.

“You scared me, Yerimie,” you said in a shaky voice and her lips lifted up to a smirk. “And I thought Jisung was the fun one to tease,” she said.

You scoffed at her comment and dismissed it. Yerim’s eyes dropped to the sketchbook and pencils scattered everywhere around the table, peeking at your trembling designs and the black smudges all over the pages that covered the designs you didn’t like.

“Still on designer’s block?” Yerim asked and you shook your head lightly. “I actually made some progress today,” you smiled, “I might have some ideas about what to make. These are pretty much the very first draft of it. If you can call it a draft,” you said pointing at your sketchbook.

Yerim hummed in understanding, but her eyes betrayed her true thoughts. Doubt? Hope? Simply processing what you said? You couldn't tell.

“Hey, listen, I have an extra class right now so I won’t stay, wanna meet me later in the library? I know you prefer studying here but I just came to pick up my coffee,” Yerim said. As if they communicated telepathically, Jisung approached your table holding two plastic cups with your beloved coffee shop’s logo on them. The intensely sweet scent of caramel betrayed what the liquid inside the cups was and you felt dizzy even at the thought of finally tasting the drink you were so desperately craving.

“Here you are, girls,” it felt almost as if Jisung mouthed the words by how softly he spoke. With shaky hands, he placed the cups on the table and smiled at himself for successfully bringing them all the way there without dropping them and spilling the hot coffee all over the shop’s floor.

“Are you coming too, Ji? To the library,” Yerim turned to him and Jisung nodded eagerly. “Of course! I’ll be there after my shift ends. Sorry Y/n, I can’t stay at the café all day, it's getting boring and it reminds me of work,” Jisung apologized to you and frowned.

“Don’t worry, guys, I’ll join you. Besides, apparently I also need to find this book I need for my project. You can go and I’ll meet you there later,” you said and you were going to keep your promise. 

Yerim grabbed her things and leaned over the table to give you a hug. She winked at you and waved at both you and Jisung on her way out the coffee shop. Jisung smiled and shook his head at Yerim’s sassy attitude and you couldn’t help but smile too at how adorable he was.

“You’d better get back to work Ji, or else someone out there is gonna rob all the money you keep in the cash register,” you reminded him and his posture stiffened, smile dropping and eyes widening when he remembered that his shift, in fact, hadn’t ended yet. 

“Oh, you’re right. But wait,” he said, putting his hand inside the pocket of his apron, only to take out a soft caramel cookie wrapped in sealed plastic packaging. He slid it into your hand under the table and offered you a shy smile. “It’s on the house. You need some energy,” he said softly as he walked away towards the back of the café.

You looked at the cookie and quickly put it inside your bag. You were sitting alone once again, blocking your surroundings as you stared outside the window to take a look at the outside world. The wind had calmed down significantly.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ�� ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab

@matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe

@uwuheeseungie @markleefuckme @letmein2urheart

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[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

whipped price is the best price!! i read countryside again earlier on while ao3 was down and it soooo good literally tempted to read it again before i go to sleep tbh looooool but food for thought because i literally think of price and sunshine!reader before i go to sleep but what if (and idk if this is cliche but i am going to be a cliche for this cause why not)

but what ifffff price goes off to the toilet for a week and while he’s gone he leaves sunshine!reader at the bar to get drinks (yes at marissa’s place) anyway sunshine is at the barrr and some random dude comes up and starts to hit on her and she’s like nah dude i’m good thanks and he still hits on her and even marissa is like ‘seriously back off’ and then after a bit price comes out and sees and starts puffing his chest a bit cause ? who da fuck is that flirting with his women?! and the others see him storming over and try to brace themselves for the wrath of price on this muppet flirting with his girl and that’s all i have rn butttt if you wanna continue it then please do

TLTR; price gets jealous of another guy hitting on his girl and i am wondering if you’d be down to finish it off cause you’d do a wayyy better job then me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: Thank you s much love. This definitely took I turn, not gonna lie, but I still like it, hope it's alright<3

Dark and Stormy

Summary; When another guy hits on you, Price gets protective. One thing leads to another and you find yourself in a vastly unfamiliar situation with Price that Ghost helps manoeuvre.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 4.3k

Warnings; PTSD, mental health discussion, protective!Price, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

The intention of tonight was a quiet night out. Or, as calm as it gets when there's football on the telly. It also was when Johnny entertained a conversation with you rather than watching the game, as disinterested in the sport as they come compared to the others. And yes, even when a team scored, the evening was peaceful. 

But then two things happened. John excused himself to the toilet while you headed to the bar, wanting a drink and something to chew on. It was a few minutes before half-time and you knew there would be a wave of people flocking towards where Marissa, at the moment, stood unoccupied, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes drifting over the crowd with an amused look. As you stepped up to the counter, that gaze settled upon you.

"Ain't it fascinating they can be this invested?" Marissa was as uninterested in football as Johnny, yet both possessed a good understanding of the game and the current season. Both your friend and the Scotsman unwillingly so, regarding the bar broadcasts relevant games on weekends and, apparently, it was a common topic not only off but on base amongst the men.

You shrugged in return. "Each to their own". 

"I guess", she huffed, pushing away from the counter she'd been leaning against. With two short steps, she stood in front of you. "Wanna get something?"

"You already know what I want", you replied, to which she put a hand on her chest, an exaggerated expression morphing her features as her mouth dropped open.

"To come and keep me company, you shouldn't have", Marissa flicked her hand, making you chuckle.

"If it makes you pay for my drink, sure", you wink at her.

"Dream on, missy", Marissa chuckles as she goes to prepare the beverage, but she stops in her track suddenly, eyes shifting away from you.

"I can pay for your drink, gorgeous". You jump slightly at the voice close to you. With a swivel of your head, you instantly locate the blonde man who'd crept up behind you.

"No, thank you", you reply with a polite smile, turning towards Marissa again, trying to make it obvious you turned his efforts down.

"Didn't sound like that a second ago". Your brows furrow, sending the blonde a look over your shoulder.

"Joke between friends", you reply curtly, motioning between yourself and Marissa.

"Well, she can't keep you company all night, can she?" He smiled, leaning on the bar beside you with his elbow. "But I can". He must've thought the wink accompanying his sentence was meant to lighten your mood. If anything, it made you cringe inwardly and take a step away from him.

"Got my boyfriend for that". You looked forwards, locking eyes with Marissa. She met you with an expression you didn't need words to understand.

You saw a movement in your peripheral. Glancing at the man, you spot him turning his head left and right, looking behind him. "Don't see him around. You're not lying to me now, are you?"

You didn't look at him as he faced you, only following Marissa as she propped one of her hands on her hip, a low muttered 'Jesus' passing under he breath.

 "Her man shouldn't need to be attached to her hip for you to understand what a no means", Marissa remarks. You send her a thankful look as her eyes momentarily shift to you.

"He should if having a girl this peng otherwise people will bother her all the time".

"Like you?" You finally turn towards him, arms crossed over your chest.

His brows are furrow, setting his features in a hard stare. "What did you say?"

You want to roll your eyes. But honestly, how the man's voice fell so drastically from the flirty tone made you hesitant. Yeah, you were bordering between annoyed and cautious now. "I'm saying I'm not interested in and you're making me uncomfortable".

"But I've done nothing wrong", he claimed.

"You may interpret that way, but I feel differently, so please", you motioned towards some other tables, asking the man to leave you be.

"I can stay here to have a drink if I want to", he states, turning to Marissa, making no move to listen to your desire for him to give you space. "I'll have a dark ale".

"I won't serve you", she declares.

"You can't decide that", he points at your friend, who cocks her head.

"I can. I own this place".

"Bull-fuckin-shit you do. What poor old grandpa did you rob this place from? Shouldn't even be surprised you took his life-work from him". Your mouth dropped open. Marissa's face hardened.

"Believe what you want because this is my pub and no one here will serve you". The man opened his mouth, about to continue the argument, when someone interrupted him.

"You can't get a clearer no from either of them, mate". Your eyes instantly find John upon his voice. He's standing behind the man looking at Marissa, then you, only for his eyes to meet the blonde's as he turns his head to see who's talking to him. 

"I didn't talk to you, now did I, old man?"

"Maybe not, but you didn't show any signs of human decency and respect to her". John motions to Marissa. "Neither did you care when she straightforwardly said she didn't enjoy your advances", he nods towards you.

Understanding that John caught his behaviour towards the two of you, the blonde suddenly switched up.

"Oh, come on, it's alright, ain't it, love?" He turns to face you, concerning you're the closest to him. Your nose scrunch at the pet name. In your mind, it was only reserved for John. That the man dared to use it despite how he's been acting made a revolting sensation grow in your stomach. "You don't mind me, right?" He raises his arm, attempting to put it around your shoulders in a manner of goodwill. But, you move out of his reach, not desiring to be touched by this man.

And, even if you hadn't moved, the blonde would never have reached you concerning how John acted swiftly. He'd grabbed his shoulder, a gentle pull making him take a few steps back to give you space. When the blonde stumbled slightly from the reasonable action, you understood the man wasn't entirely sober, quite far from it. Noticing the same thing, John placed himself between you and the man rather than standing by your side.

A look of disbelief crosses the blonde's features before he turns sour. "You looking to scrap?" 

"No". John stands straight, using his full height to his advantage. He wasn't only taller but broader than the other man, and you barely saw anything of him if you didn't glance around John's frame. All those things together would've been enough for most to back off, but not this guy. 

"Then piss off", the blonde spat, clearly thinking the liquid courage he'd gotten was enough to stand up to John, oblivious to his disadvantage. And that was only physical. With John's experience, you didn't doubt who'd be victorious in a possible fight. "I'm just trying to get a drink".

John scoffed, glancing back at you. You knew his easy attitude was for your sake, the way his hand sneaked backwards in search of yours reinforcing that as he faced forwards again. 

"It sounded like you tried chattin' up my girl and then insulted her friend. And when both made clear your presence wasn't welcomed, you can't respect them enough to leave. If you didn't notice that it's time to head home". John motions towards the exit with a small jut of his chin as he finally drops what you hope is the hint that will make the blonde scurry away. 

The man did catch it, his eyes flickering to you and then down to see your enlaced hands behind John's back. But you also recognised something else. Hurt fucking pride.

"Don't come and order me around", he scoffs, chest puffing.

"Only givin' you advice". John was serious. You gather that much despite not seeing his face. His voice had dropped a notch, his sentence more straightforward than previously. "Better off takin' it".

"Or what? You gonna force me, don't think ya would even land a hit", the blonde scoffed in return, swaying as he made a show of moving his head as if dodging punches. 

Something changed in the air then. John cocked his head, chuckling. An uneasy sensation rolls through your body upon the sound. It was nothing joyful in it. It was stern, hard edges digging into his smooth and raspy voice.

You know John is SAS, a soldier through and through. He's violent, but not violent. He can separate work from... this. What you feared, however, is that what he deals with professionally is calculated. Everything is planned, counted and weighed until agreed on something remotely executable. Initial planning left little to chance. That much you knew with your sparse knowledge of the military. 

The blonde staring at John now was nothing of this. He was uncalculated, impulsive. He could do something stupid in seconds. You trusted John, not the man.

"Don't buy into his crap, please, John". You step up alongside him, gently shifting out of your enlaced hands to hold his arm, trying to divert his attention. 

He doesn't look at you, eyes remaining locked with the man opposite him. "I won't". 

"Ain't no fucking way to talk to me". You send the man a disgusted look.

"I talk however I want to you if you can't understand what a fucking no means", you spit back. 

One of his brows cock and he steps forwards, hand raising. He doesn't come much further as John copies him. He steps out of your touch, one hand pushing forcefully enough against the guy's chest that he needs to catch himself at one of the stools.

"If you just were about to hit her-". Each syllable of the words is gritted through John's teeth as he speaks slowly. "-don't think about doin' it again". You hear the threat in his voice, the brush of 'test it, I dare you'.

Your throat constricts. And alarm of a situation spiralling out of control blaring in your body. You shoot Marissa a worried look and she knows what you can't say.

"I've had enough of this". Marissa firmly puts her hand down on the metal counter closest to her. Her action is followed by the rattling sound of glasses. John reacts in milliseconds, eyes snapping towards her. The blonde's attention follows a few seconds later. "You are not welcomed here anymore. Get out", she points at the blonde before motioning towards the door, her brown eyes darker than you've seen them in a long time.

"Or what?"

"I call the fuckin cops on you". She threatens, a sneer working itself into twisting her features. 

The man is probably about to defy her and argue when a shadow suddenly positions itself at your side. 

You feel dwarfed, standing so close to the new presence and John. But rather than shrinking in on yourself. You silently thank the gods it isn't an unwelcomed someone.

"You heard her". You look up at Ghost when he speaks. As always, his eyes were the sole feature peeking through his skull baklava. And right now, they bore into the blonde. "Get out". He didn't hesitate to grab the excess fabric of the jacket covering the man's shoulder. 

"Take it easy, mate". The blonde almost whines as Ghost pulls him away from your group and forces him to walk ahead while he follows him to the exit. Even the man understood he'd met more than his match.

You don't hesitate to step around John to face him as soon as the man is gone. You immediately notice his lips set in an aggravated purse and how he must run a pointed tongue over his teeth. His head is turned, a hard stare boring into the man staggering away with Ghost's palm planted firmly between his shoulder blades. 

"Hey". John's eyes finally met yours. They're dark, blue soladites gazing back at you. Something is brewing in them, something volatile. "Are you alright?"

John doesn't answer. Instead, his jaw only works, repeatedly tensing, making the muscle in his temple visible. It looks like he's chewing his words but can't spit them out.

You glance towards Ghost, who just pushed the man out of the pub, caring little about what he does with himself once out of the space. 

Your eyes fall back to John as you sigh in relief. He still looks tense, and in an attempt to wordlessly tell him the situation is under control, you smile. But... you don't get a similar action in return. You got none, in fact. Something feels off. As if the situation is still spiralling despite the source of conflict gone. Your brows furrow, trying to snap him out of whatever resentment he can't seem to let go of by enlacing your fingers. Although, when your fingertips brush his, he flinches. 

Taken aback by how his hand jerks away from yours and he moves back, you whisper his name. "John?"

Your hand hang in the air, staring at him. He's still looking at you. Even so, his gaze feels far-away. Now you're seriously worried. 

"Not your fault". For being such a big man, Ghost moves quick and silently. Upon his sudden appearance by your side again, you turn to him.

"What?" His brown eyes lock with yours briefly before quickly falling on John again. He shakes his head once, not explaining something he must know.

"Marissa". You look at your friend when Ghost directs his attention on her. Even she's watching the situation with wide eyes, unfamiliarity written clearly over her features. "Have a secluded space?" 

"I-uh, you can take my office". Your friend supplies the only private space within the pub's walls. Ghost nods, turning and stepping closer to John.

"Price". The masked man earns the attention of John when he settles on the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Your mouth had opened, wanting to speak up about what just happened to you but stop yourself when no reaction to the touch comes. "Get a move on. To the back". 

And he does. Like a soldier, John turns and heads to the doors leading to the backroom. Stunned, you follow him with your eyes.

"You should come". Ghost directs with a quick look over his shoulder just as he follows John. You do as he says with a quick look at Marissa. She tries to give you a calm expression and a gentle smile, but it's impossible after your interaction with the blonde man and this sudden turn of events. Your jaw clenches as you hurry to keep up with the two men.

One of Marissa's coworkers emerges from the backroom just as you near it. Instinctually she holds the door open for the two men to pass through after she's stepped into the main room. You offer her a 'just getting some things for Marissa' to ease her confusion. Thankfully, you know her and she replies 'alright' just as your friend calls for her. Probably to not linger about to keep it as free of people as possible concerning Ghost's request.

You press your lips together when the doors close, cutting off much of the pub's natural racket, walking briskly behind John and Ghost. Something gnaws in your chest as you look at the latter. Neither he seems relaxed.

Your arms wind around your stomach, silently stepping into Marissa's office, staying almost pressed against the door once your close it by leaning into it.

"Price", Ghost's voice makes John turn. "Your head's elsewhere". He continues. He doesn't sound cold, but he speaks evenly. 

For being a masked man, you would describe Ghost as someone who usually has an expressive voice. But his current tone sounds matter-of-factual. Fuck. You gnaw your lip, fingers digging into your sides, eyes jumping between them.

"You ain't there". Ghost's words make your eyes flitter from John to him and stay there for a few moments. You only see parts of his face concerning how he's still facing John more than you. "You're back home, at the pub. There's nothin' to overthink, nothin' to deal with, nothin' more happenin'. You hear me?"

John nods. But the large man only shakes his head in return. "Answer me, Captain".

"Hear ya, L.T.". John's voice is low and gritty as he grunts the reply.

Ghost nods curtly, a swift tip of his chin. "It's all in your head. Get it back on your shoulders", he continues, letting his sentence hang in the air rather than filling the silence with anything else. 

Though you don't understand the interaction fully, you're starting to grasp what's going on in the stillness. You watch John closely as he crosses his arms over his chest and inhales slowly, holding his breath before exhaling. He repeats the action over and over.

"That cunt ain't here to bother you or your sweetheart, neither is anyone else, so at ease". Ghost angles his body, your eyes landing upon his profile. He motions to you with his hand, bringing a set of eyes to you. Yet, they're not brown, but blue.

Upon John's attention, you shift, shuffling on your feet, but don't avert your eyes. The look from before is still there, though it doesn't feel as intense. And then, slowly, it melts. It's nothing grand, not a sudden shift, no jerk of realisation. But the forced labour breathing John focused on eases into something natural, making his shoulders drop and the look in his eyes change. He feels present. As if he's actually looking at you now. A gentleness fills his eyes. They warm up.

Then, John's eyes flutter close, his head notching forwards. One of his hands settles by his temple, massaging the sensitive point before travelling to the bridge of his nose, pinching the highest point as a deep furrow sets his brows close to his fingers.

"You good?" Ghost asks, his voice milder than before.

"I'm good", John responds on a exhale. He takes a step backwards to partly sit on the desk behind him. He shifts his fingers so his thumb massages the skin between his eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Ghost turns, walking towards you. You only look at him once he stops beside you.

"Should I do something?" You whisper to the tall man. You felt helpless during this ordeal and still not exactly sure what happened even though you now had a guess. Ghost only cocks his head, hand stilling on the door-handle as he looks at you.

"Just be there for him", is all he says, swinging the door open.

He nods goodbye as he exits, not overstaying the moment after he apparently isn't needed anymore.

Your eyes fall on John when the door closes again. He looks tired, standing in a similar position as before. Only his hand had shifted to cover his eyes, the span of his brows covered by his index finger and thumb.

"John?" You try to soften your voice to hide your concern. 

His hand drops, blue eyes finding yours. His mouth is in a thin line, corners slightly downturned. Your heart cracks a bit at his discouraged look.

Your feet move on their own, bringing you to him. As soon as you're within range, he drops his arms, opening them wide for you to step into. It's seamless how you reach around John's shoulders, one hand coming to the back of his head, moving him towards your neck while his arms wind tight around your waist, pulling you close as he haunches forward to burrow his face against your throat.

The silence is only filled with your breaths. Yours blowing into the air at the side of John's head, his exhales puffing against your skin. Your eyes are shut harshly as your fingers repeatedly card through his hair and continue down his neck until your fingertips glide over his last cervical vertebrate.

It's gradual, but you feel John the tension leaving his body. He relaxes against you, not feeling as stiff with his hold. His arms loosen, sliding lower towards your hips where his hand squeeze the plusher flesh. Your thumb circles his shoulder and you turn your head to the side, kissing the side of his head. In return, he kisses the skin over your collarbone.

There's a tug-of-war inside you. Should I? Shouldn't I? In the end, you decide to try.

"If you're comfortable in telling me, what happened?" The words brush against John's head, your breath disturbing some strands of his hair.

He sighs deeply and you hold your breath for a few seconds. "Got triggered". So...PTSD, then? Or was it something you never fucking heard of? Your mind raced.

As if able to read your thoughts, John finally leans away. You don't let your hand fall from the back of his head, continuing to card through the strands of hair at his nape as he looks at you, head bowed to be levelled with your face.

"Doesn't happen much at all". John begins, clenching his jaw before continuing. "But triggers can... it feels like a misplaced adrenalin rush with overwhelming emotions and racing thoughts".

You nod, biting your lip. Brows furrowing, you search for the right words, carefully choosing what to say. "Was it something that guy said that did it?"

"Don't know, can't recall what hit the wrong cord", John said with a shake of his head.

"You sound jealous". You try a different approach in a lighter tone, rapping your fingers against his neck with a soft smile.

"Maybe protective", John shrugs, chuckling awkwardly. Even so, the tightness in the corner of his mouth eases. His gaze flickers away, moving back and forth, staring into nothing for a few seconds. When his gaze trails back, his eyes are a bit clearer, apparently having uncovered something to answer your question better. "Think it was when he raised his hand". 

The reminder that the man had thought about doing something physically to you resurfaced on your frontal lobe. As the moment replayed, you could understand why it was triggering, perhaps not to the extent and with the interconnections John obviously had towards the action.

"Got angry, worried, the feeling resembling something from...", John trails off, but you don't need him to explicitly say it. You're not there. Ghost's sentence echoes in your mind. "Should probably work on that, m'sorry". 

This man. You shut your eyes, turning your head away. You try to will the wetness you felt away, but when you open your eyes, you still need to tilt your head back and forth a few times to not let any tears fall before you look back at John, eyes noticeably glassy even so. 

"Don't apologise". You finally say. "It isn't your fault that guy acted like a cunt. Compared to him, you never wanted to escalate the situation even though you were the one who had the right".

"But-" You cock your head after he cuts himself short, giving him space to continue the conversation at his own pace. John releases a slow breath and speaks again. "It shouldn't have triggered me". You purse your lips at the way he says it. He sounds so frustrated with himself.

"Don't know too much about it", you admit, neither of you labelling what the obvious it was. "But you soldiers can't pick and choose what does or doesn't".

"Wouldn't that be a dream", he sighs.

"Maybe you should work on it. If you want to. Not the protective part, I mean... I appreciate that, I like that I can trust you having my back". You lick your lips, biting the lower one for a second as your brows furrow. "But, maybe the other part?"

It brought a sigh from John. "Guess... I haven't left the last deployment behind entirely despite being cleared on the med-evaluations". It wasn't a yes, but it was an acknowledgement. 

"I-I know we haven't talked much about what you do in detail. But, if you want to, you know? Talk. I'll listen". John looks at you, blue eyes widening.

"I-", he began. "I need to think about it". You nod, not pressing him, understanding that he needs time. 

Rather than continuing the conversation, you lean forwards, pressing your lips against his forehead. You feel his eyes flutter close, his lashes brushing your lower face as he leans into the touch, so you only part to mumble an 'okay' before planting another kiss between his brows. 

You graze your lips over his face in soft presses until you reach his mouth. Hovering there, your hand slip to his cheek. Your fingers brush along the line of his beard, feeling the softness of his skin and the brown hairs. You hover there, waiting until John initiates the kiss.

It's sweet, soft. A gentle tilt of heads in opposite directions as you merely connect the plush pillows of your lips together. It holds so many emotions for something that is so surface-level.

"Want to go home? Escape the crowd?" You whisper against his lips when you part.

John hums, leaning away so his gaze meets yours the second you open your eyes. "If you don't mind".

"Would never mind if that's what you need". You smile at John, running your thumb along his cheek. He sighs, an appreciative smile spreading.

"Can I drive?"

You remember what he said the night you first met, how helpful those drives could be for him. "If you want to, yes". 

"Thank you". John pecks your lip. 

You smile at him. "No need".

[toutvatoujoursbien]

A (relatively new-ish) fan’s perspective on Luke Newton

(I wrote my very first Tumblr post last month and now I think I’ve chosen the path of essayist/suffering. I’ve also been writing this on and off for four weeks because it seems like every other day, something new pops up or the fandom has a meltdown of some kind. I’m not even sure if it’s worth posting, but I think, like my first one, I needed to get this out of my system in order to TRY and return to being a normal person - which is still unlikely because Lukola has me in a chokehold. NOTE: I finished the majority of this on July 19, before all the weird-ass stuff happened over the weekend, and haven’t had the chance to post until now. Anyway, this is going to be long, full of ramblings that are hopefully organized in a cohesive manner, and all opinions and observations are my own. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, okay?)

I’ve really struggled to understand why the whole Bridgerton S3 and Luke Newton PR stunt has embedded itself into my brain the way it has. Like, how could the actions of someone I don’t know still be lingering in my thoughts even now, weeks later? After my first post, I realized that there was more to the entire LN situation than I was previously unaware of - so I started digging. None of this information is hidden or secret, it was publicly available and therefore the fans picked up on it quickly. But I, personally, DID NOT KNOW ANY OF IT, going into S3, and I think that’s why everything has hit me like a ton of bricks. So I thought, surely I’m not the only new(ish) fan who has suffered from this emotional and mental whiplash? 

I really, really, really loved Luke’s portrayal of Colin and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching all the interviews and behind-the-scenes from S3. I would also love to continue to support him as he builds his acting career. However, I didn’t have a full picture, which unfortunately includes a history of making - what I think are - poor and questionable decisions in his personal life that he also allowed to bleed into his professional one. And that’s how I find myself struggling with the dichotomy of everything I’ve seen him do during Bridgerton promo vs. lots of other actions he’s taken. So let’s talk about it, okay? (Importantly, I reserve the right to update my current opinions as more information comes to light.)

I want it to be clear that I am in no way hating on Luke. Part of my struggle with writing this post has been because I don’t want this to be misconstrued as more hate being thrown his way. That is not my intention, at all. Seeing “fans” over the past few weeks absolutely rip into him on social media has been heartbreaking and deeply unsettling. This type of behavior is ugly and nasty and no one should be subjected to it. Full stop. As others have said: it’s okay to have thoughts and criticisms (criticism ≠ hate), but please keep it to the appropriate corners of the Internet. I think you can admire/support a famous person, but you should also be able to call them out on their conduct, particularly the stuff that happens in public. Blind love/following and putting people on pedestals is never going to allow any room for reflection and/or growth. I think there is a LOT of nuance in the whole discussion around him, his past actions, his handling of things now, and what’s in store for the future.

Okay, deep breaths & continue after the cut (because this got… wordy).

Some brief background on how I got here: As noted previously, I’ve been a longtime fan of both Polin and Bridgerton, first with the book series and then with the tv show. But, for whatever reason, I never even thought about jumping into the fandom until earlier this year, in anticipation of Season 3. I will say that I have been delighted with Nicola and Luke and their work as Polin from the start, but with the nature of the show being what it is, I just didn’t pay as much attention until it was their turn to lead. I watched some behind the scenes and promos occasionally, but not consistently. It wasn’t until around the February/Valentine’s event that I started to take notice and then I fell down the rabbit hole in April (literally, figuratively, and spiritually 😅). I say all this to illustrate that up until the spring, I was part of the General Audience, though admittedly with a bias towards viewing Bridgerton favorably.  Another factor is that I got most of my fandom content from Twitter (again, I’m never going to call it X), with the occasional peek into Instagram and Tumblr. Yes, Twitter is a hellscape. But I am also lazy and only have so much time to scroll online. And since everything seems to get cross-posted everywhere, it was easiest for me to keep mostly to one social media site to consume all my Bridgerton content. But I point this out because I now see this as an error on my part. Why? Because I wasn’t getting a well-rounded picture of the situation around L, N and S3. Remember my own self-admitted social media bubble? Sigh. The fast pace of tweets meant I could blink-and-miss something on Twitter, unless it trended (or really riled the fans up). It’s a breeding ground for the hyperbolic and for discourse, in general. Twitter also seems to be divided into the Luke Haters (let’s be real, most of their “reasoning” is just uncalled for, vile hate) and the Luke Apologists (who have the tendency to exhibit, imo, some gross-excuse-all-his-behaviors-he-never-does-anything-wrong rhetoric). So it wasn’t until I started noticing chatter of Luke’s past actions that it prompted me to start looking deeper into what others have witnessed and noted online, particularly on this platform. Again, it wasn’t like I was trying to find some sort of hush-hush subject matter. Instead, I rather got the impression that those established in the fandom had a sort of unspoken agreement to keep these discussions to DMs and group chats - mostly as to not detract from Polin’s upcoming season. (But seriously, great of y’all to keep it locked down, however it would have really helped a girl out all the times I was like, “why is everyone so mad?” 🤣) And a lot of things started clicking into place once I knew more of the details. So I’ve put together a list of high-level topics/points that I didn’t know before, being relatively new to the fandom. Perhaps this can help other fans who are trying to wrap their heads around the various discussions occurring now and may feel clueless.

One more thing, HUGE shout-out to @jack4132cf for giving me a concise timeline of… well, everything I apparently missed last year+ when I wasn’t part of the fandom 😆🙌🏼 They’ve really helped me fill in the blanks (of which I had many)! Also, darcytaylor has a great 3-part deep dive, and I’ve read (and backtracked) through most of herejusttosufferalong and allsortsofthingsmpov ’s blogs, among others. They’ve provided a place for differing opinions and perspectives to be voiced in a respectful manner (unless you’re a troll, in which any clap-back is justified). I may not agree with everyone’s take, but I firmly believe that hearing views from others has helped shape my own thought process.

Let’s begin, shall we?

The Hot Fuck Boy Summer™️ (which I’m trademarking as HFBS)

Bridgerton S3 wrapped up filming in March 2023 and then Luke starred in the play The Shape of Things, which was in production from around May-July 2023. At some point prior to all this, Luke and his previous gf broke up - this is reported on by several media outlets in March, as well as “news” that he joined the dating app Raya. This is where, I think, his questionable behavior starts to raise eyebrows. It’s not the fact that he’s dating - I feel like fans gave him a pass since he just ended a long-term relationship (Enter the mentality some had of “let him have his hot boy summer!”). No, I think the issue is that he was not at all private or discreet about it. 

Remember when I said I think he let choices in his personal life bleed over into his professional one? Yeah, there were multiple glaring examples happening in real time last year, and the fandom took notice. He started publicly following certain users on IG and liking their posts, (unfortunately) many of whom were young, female models and dancers, under the age of 23. He (foolishly) followed his private account on his public profile, and then tried to backpedal. He engaged with some online flirtations that didn’t sit well with the fans (cough, E. Bear, cough), and then tried to backpedal. Mind you, all of this occurred and at some point later on, it’s then also decided that he’s going to move (aka, clean up) his social media presence to be more work-related. My point is:

Luke was digitally messy and left a trail (several, really). 

In conjunction with the HFBS, we also have:

& That Friend Group

Ah yes, the “boys.” Look, clearly I don’t know his friend group in real life, so all I can speak on is the image they give off based on their public social media accounts. And I, personally, am very unimpressed with what they’ve chosen to share with the world. My general perception is that L’s group of friends love to have a good time and show it off; seem to have an large amount of influence over him, particularly R; and can been seen as reaping the benefits of his success. He has discussed before how he likes to be generous with his friend group. During HFBS, they posted all about their vacations, on public accounts, and tagged Luke in them. They posted thirst trap photos and tagged Luke in them. They took quite a few boat trips and, once again, tagged Luke in them. Are we sensing a pattern here?

His friend group was also digitally messy and left trails.

I am in no way saying his friends aren’t allowed to post whatever they want on their accounts. It’s totally within their rights to have a good time and capture it on their pages, and I completely understand the desire to only show the “memorable” and “fun” stuff on social media. I just think it was short-sighted to NOT consider that Luke’s fans would be interested in seeing what he was up to with his friends - and you know that people will always, always dig around on the Internet. Maybe this was some kind of fun game to them? Maybe they enjoyed the attention? Maybe they didn’t think it was that big a deal? Who knows? But I think, in hindsight, it would have been safer and smarter to not have all this documented and out in the open, imo. 

My other understanding is that around the time the break up was “officially announced,” Luke’s ex began dating someone who was 22/23 at the time. His childhood friend R also ended a relationship last year and began dating a young woman around 22/23. Do I think R may have encouraged Luke in a certain direction dating-wise, especially considering that A was/is a friend of S, R’s new gf? Do I wonder if this was all to get back at J for starting a relationship with a new young thing, too? It seems likely, but of course this is all conjecture on my part. This is giving “high school drama” vibes, being played out in public, which is very, very  unfortunate.

However, Luke was ultimately the person who did not ask his friends to refrain from posting him on social media, as well as publicly following young women on socials and not being very discreet about his dating life, which is what raises my eyebrows…

The Age Gap Thing

Let’s just address this here and now. Remember, these are my opinions, each individual is entitled to their own, and I hope everyone takes a moment to really think and evaluate how they feel about the matter! I’m going to be very transparent and upfront about this:

I do not like the age gap between L and many of the young women he was showing interest in last year.

I’m viewing this from the lens of someone who is an elder Millennial and female. For me, personally, my dislike has more to do with: 1) A's age when they started dating/the age she is now (22/23); but more specifically 2) the power dynamics at play. 

I don’t have a problem with age gaps overall, because I believe that love can find us at many stages in life. However, I’m also of the opinion that a person 30+ should not be dating a someone in their early 20s. I’m not going to use the whole “the brain hasn’t been fully developed” argument, though valid. My issue has more to do with where an individual is in terms of life experience, emotional and overall maturity, and (this ties in with #2) financial stability within age gaps. In general, I find, say, a 45-year-old dating a 37-year-old to be on more even footing, which becomes even more so as you age. But a 22-year-old, presumably fresh out of college/university and about to embark on their next steps into adulthood, is just not in a position to date someone in their 30s. To me, your early 20s are the time for you to gain all the things I mentioned above (life experience, maturity, financial stability that is independently your own) as well as make plenty of mistakes. And that’s not to say any of that stops once you hit 30, or beyond! I know I’m constantly evolving and learning more about myself and my place in the world as each year passes.

My deeper discomfort comes from the inherent power dynamics and power imbalance between L/A. Of course L has lot more of the power in terms of money, resources and status; they are not equal partners. This article here (https://jill.substack.com/p/the-problem-with-men-who-date-much) illustrates these points much better than I can; I think it’s worth the read. 

Is he allowed to date whomever he so chooses? Yes. Are people allowed to feel the ick with the current choice/choices he made last year? Also yes. Does it entitle anyone to post nasty comments on his social media? Absolutely not. I may not personally like his choice, but it’s ultimately his to make. 

NOTE: I also want to address right here that, to me, his behavior isn’t “predatory” or whatever twisted narrative some folks are trying to push. Honestly, I think he’s gone the complete opposite direction from the type of women his ex and N are because it might be less complex/more simple both in terms of emotions and permanence. But obviously, pure speculation on my part. 

Antagonistic A

At some point during HFBS, L meets A and she becomes a part of That Friend Group. During Fall 2023, there are many trips to Soho Farmhouse and other posts made to R/S/A’s social media accounts. A in particular made quite a few posts that could be interpreted as her wanting to show she was with L, but never actually including him fully (these are the arms/legs photos that fans talk about and side-eye). Some of these types of posts have since been conveniently deleted. L and That Friend Group celebrate NYE24 at Soho Farmhouse, where everyone but him share photos and videos. On Jan 2, a photo of L and A kissing was circulated on social media -  they got caught in the video of the band playing. Also at the beginning of this year, A - for whatever fucking reason - started tagging along on various work trips and had a tendency to post TikTok’s from various hotel bathrooms. Again, insinuating that she’s with L but not outright showing it. 

The “InStyle stunt” - end of March/early April, there is a trip to Los Angeles which A posted stories and photos on IG. It’s later revealed that L was going to be featured in InStyle Magazine’s “This Guy” series, which included an interview, video and photoshoot, as well as an IG post that consisted of several polaroid, “boyfriend-style” pictures. The Instyle polariods were released three weeks after A’s posts, and let’s just say that A’s are a little too on the nose to be coincidence (also cue more hand/leg reveals…) Please note, again, that some of these photos on A’s account have been conveniently deleted/removed.

These are only a few examples of how… messy this all is and how it can be viewed as her antagonizing the fans. There is a lot of back and forth debate between “just leave her alone, she’s allowed to post what she wants” against “she’s clearly using social media to taunt the fandom/get attention/chase clout/etc.” When I finally learned about all the social media games being played, I just felt really unsettled for a few reasons.

Luke has stated that he wishes to keep his private life more private (see: social media clean-up from last fall). But, and this is my big issue here, A and That Friend Group don’t seem to WANT to be private. So to me, that can push people to question how much does he know what’s actually going on (he admits to not being online much) and, more importantly, how complicit is he with all of their postings? I personally feel like the narrative being pushed by his friends is very self-serving, and doesn’t seem like it’s in L’s best interest or protecting his privacy. Because I think we all know and understand that if a celebrity wants to keep certain things private, they have the money and resources to do so - some good examples that come to mind are Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes, Benedict Cumberbatch, Dolly Parton, and our girl Nicola herself.

A has made it a pattern to post shortly after either Nicola or the main Bridgerton account posts something, usually on IG or TT; there is timely evidence of this. So much so that the fandom jokes about how obsessed she must be with N. And these posts don’t really have much substance - other than to show off her body or her latest vacation. It just all comes off as very insecure and seeking attention, whether it’s from L or from the public in general. Again, why do we feel the need to play social media games? But this does not mean she deserves hateful comments either. I personally don’t care for her or her actions, but as an older female, I also can’t help but be saddened by the fact that she’s making many, many poor choices in a very public forum. I can’t help but wonder if she’s going to have regrets later on when/if she reflects back on this time. 

The PR Stunt/Papgate

This has been dissected by the fandom to death and there are a plethora of theories on who exactly was responsible for calling the paparazzi, who knew what was actually going to happen, WHY did this occur, and how much did this impact the season and the press tour overall. It’s enough to make anyone’s head spin - hell, I’ve changed my opinion at least a dozen times over the past several weeks. Regardless, the thing that aggravates me the most about the whole thing is the absolutely terrible and suspicious timing of it. As stated in my previous post: Here’s my point: I think what should have been a moment of triumph and a joyous occasion for Nic, Luke, and Bridgerton season 3, was sadly overshadowed by the aforementioned shitstorm. And that’s a damn shame. Too many cast and crew put in a lot of time, effort, and blood sweat and tears, to pull this all together.

I’m still personally stuck on a few things: 1) How did paps know when L was leaving the official after party? Additionally, how did they know which hotel L was going to for his after-after party? Because that’s where we got the super awkward handhold attempt photos. 2) Did L know about the first location but not the second one - which ties into was this an attempt by his PR team to distance himself from Bridgerton and Nicola now that promo was almost done? Because the way he looks from location 1 to 2 is vastly different. 3) If paps were there, why was literally NO ONE else from the cast also photographed??? 4) Why has DM double (and tripled) down over the past few weeks on how she got those exclusive photos in the first place? And 5) Who ultimately has benefited the most from this whole PR stunt 🤔??? (Because I sure as hell don’t think it’s Luke…)

The Cinnamon Roll vs The Bad Boy

Luke has stated in several interviews that he’s interested in going for edgier, darker roles. I think that’s great that he wants to try something new and diversify; I would love to see him in whichever type of role interests him! However, he’s also spent 4-5 years playing Colin, a character that is quirky, kind and lovable (much more so on the show, thanks to Luke’s portrayal) and known for being the ultimate “wife guy” amongst the fandom. It’s also been mentioned time and time again that Luke is most like his character (by Luke himself and his Bridgerton cast mates). Nic speaks so highly of him, and the way he presented himself during the 6 months of press was really wonderful; I think he has a deep understanding and love for his role, and he was a genuinely supportive partner to his co-lead during filming. Think golden retriever energy - which is NOT a bad thing, at all!

If there is any truth to the PR stunt being organized by his team (and I’m in no way saying this is fact) as a way to differentiate/disassociate him from Bridgerton/Nicola, then I think this was a miscalculation on their part. We know that Luke did a lot of editorial photoshoots during the promo tour; and looking at the pictures now, it seems like there was definitely a narrative/aesthetic that was trying to be pushed of a more intense, moody and provocative L. Which is also fine! I don’t think he must be one personality or the other; humans are multi-faceted and complex, it’s what makes us so interesting.

The (Ongoing) Fallout

This is really difficult to write about because, honestly, I feel like we’re still witnessing it happening in real time, bit by agonizing bit. What we do know is that at this moment, he hasn’t announced any new projects other than returning for Bridgerton Season 4. He hasn’t announced any major brand deals and we don’t know what his next steps are career-wise. Which is completely baffling to me because I would think he and his team would want to capitalize on the momentum of a very successful season of a Netflix/Shondaland production. However, this is his life and his job, so until he comes forward with literally anything to say (a statement, an announcement, hell, he hasn’t even publicly claimed to have a gf FFS), then everything else is just noise and speculation. As much as I hope he’s not taking another HFBS, I also wouldn’t blame him for wanting to step away from the spotlight. He’s been unfairly dragged and smeared since the Part 2 premiere. Do I think he and his team/friend group have made a some missteps along the way? Yes, but again, no one deserves the nasty comments and vitriol that has been flung his way. 

So How Do We Move Forward?

I keep thinking back to the adage: When someone shows you who they are, believe them.*

And isn’t this the root of my (and perhaps others’) struggle? Because it’s been really difficult to reconcile someone Nicola calls “a true gentleman, the kindest friend, a dream costar” with a man who seemingly (?) goes along with pap walks, Instagram subterfuge, and appears to be distancing himself from the very project and costars that helped propel him into the leading man spotlight. For me personally, I go back to my point that people are multi-faceted and deeply complex. I think Luke can be all of those things; I also think he might be struggling right now to figure out who he is and what he wants next after being scrutinized so heavily.

Also from my first post: We have to remember, though, that what we’re shown is only a fraction of their true selves, carefully and deliberately curated to accommodate their status as actors/celebrities/those in the public eye. 

I choose to believe that we saw glimpses of the real Luke throughout the press tour. (ColinBridgey is a rockstar and compiled everything into a master list for our enjoyment!) I choose to believe Nicola knows Luke a hell of a lot better than almost everyone else yapping in this conversation. I choose to believe that his anxiety and quietness could be perceived as standoffish, and unfortunately he wasn’t able to shine as much as Nicola during the press tour, but they are a team and have each other’s backs - there is genuine love there, after all. I choose to believe that social media posting and likes are not indicative of the actual friendship and relationship between L and N. I would love to see him post more, or be more vocal in publicly thanking Bridgerton and Nicola - however, I realize those are expectations I have/desire and he does not owe me anything. 

I choose to believe that despite the mistakes and missteps, he’s a decent human being who deserves to live his life on his own terms and at his own speed. I really, really hope that whenever he announces his next project, I can be joyful and supportive. There’s a lot of talk about giving him grace, which I agree with. I cannot imagine, nor do I desire to be in the public eye this way; it’s easy for us and others to feel entitled to say things behind our screens and keyboards, but these are real, actual people with lives and feelings.

I do think that it is for the best interest of the fandom to try and ignore A and That Friend Group (and DM) as much as possible. And I will be the first to admit that it is really fucking hard to do so. Like I’ve said before, I try to ignore toxicity and hate, but I am also human and therefore imperfect and capable of pettiness. There is just something about this situation (probably how much Lukola captivated me and how much disdain I have for his friend group) that makes me watch everything play out like it’s a train on fire, careening towards an unfinished bridge, over a ravine. Sometimes I feel bad because I wonder if I’m adding to the entire spectacle with my continued interest. But then I remember that I specifically keep it to this corner of the internet, and I’ve found a nice little community where we can gossip and discuss and dissect it all.

If you’ve made it to the end, thank you. This is just everything I’ve been ruminating over the past month, put into word vomit form. I would looove to hear your thoughts and takes on everything/anything discussed above. Maybe you have a different perspective or noticed something that I missed.

*Fun fact: In my research, I learned that this saying comes from Maya Angelou’s “A Song Flung Up to Heaven” and is actually "Believe people when they tell you who they are. They know themselves better than you.” The more well-known version comes out of an Oprah Winfrey interview with Angelou in 1997, where they were discussing life lessons. Okay, I’ll stop being a nerd now.

[miss-musings]

"And We're Not Done Yet": How Omega Also Needed Crosshair in The Bad Batch Season 3

Both during and in the weeks after "The Bad Batch" Season 3 aired, a lot of people talked about how much Omega helped Crosshair grow and change during Season 3 (and the show in general).

I'm certainly one of those people, but I thought it might be time to talk about just how much Omega needed Crosshair in Season 3 as well. I know he generally supported her like his brothers did throughout the show, but let's focus on how she specifically and uniquely needed him throughout S3.

(NOTE: I already posted this as a thread on my Twitter — @catchingclassic. So, sorry for any repetition across platforms. But, if you already saw the Twitter thread, I am going to expand on a few points, because Tumblr is more conducive to that.)

So, let's talk about how Crosshair and their special bond helped Omega in "The Bad Batch" Season 3:

Initial Imprisonment on Tantiss

Let's go chronologically and start with our characters' five- or six-month imprisonment on Tantiss.

While Omega is a prisoner at the base, she basically only has four individuals she has neutral to positive interactions with on a daily basis: Nala Se, Emerie, Batcher and Crosshair.

While she spends the most time with Emerie and does seem to develop some bond with her -- as we find out from Emerie's comments in 3.14 -- she also doesn't fully trust Emerie. If she did, she would've clued Emerie into her escape plans in 3.03.

But, Crosshair is someone she KNEW she could trust.

Crosshair was essentially Omega's only comfort during her imprisonment (other than Batcher, I guess). She'd just lost Tech and been separated from Hunter, Wrecker and Echo. She clearly needed someone to support her mentally/emotionally.

We only see two conversations between them in 3.01, and in the first one, he doesn't offer her much in the way of comfort. But in the second one, it's clear that Crosshair is trying to keep Omega focused on escaping, even if it's without him.

Look, I'm not saying Crosshair's demeanor was great. I wish we could've seen him offering her more comfort and support (and maybe he did off-screen).

But, at minimum, she continued to interact with him on a regular basis and seemed to tell him all sorts of details about her day, her plans to escape, etc. And, again, Crosshair encouraged her as best as he could:

Crosshair: What is your primary objective? Omega: Escape. Crosshair: Then stop wasting time on lost causes. Forget the hound, forget me, and complete the mission.

In early 3.01, he doesn't believe escape is possible. But, by late 3.01, he's apparently realized that Omega does have a good chance of escaping, if she plays her cards right, so he's trying to keep her focused.

And, he's actually right. Omega could've left with Batcher at the end of 3.01, but as I'll talk about shortly, that wouldn't have gone very well.

I've been showing TBB to my sister and we recently started S3. She was surprised by the five-month time jump in 3.01 and by just how much Omega had changed. She'd lost hope. She'd become almost complacent about her new life on Tantiss. She doesn't acknowledge Crosshair in the hallway. She doesn't demand to leave anymore. She's just accepted this is her life now, to some degree.

Omega definitely still had some fight left in her, as we see when Batcher is threatened, but five months on Tantiss clearly diminished so much of the stubbornly optimistic person she used to be. She also seemed to tunnel-vision on Batcher and Crosshair, and so that's why Crosshair has to remind her exactly what her objective is.

Again, we don't get to see much of it, but it's clear that Crosshair was basically Omega's only real support system on Tantiss. She might've had some positive interactions with Nala Se and/or Emerie off-screen (although that doesn't seem likely), but Crosshair seemed to be the only person encouraging her and helping her toward an escape attempt.

Speaking of...

Escaping Tantiss, Round 1

Omega absolutely needed Crosshair's help to escape Tantiss, especially on the day and at the time she did.

Let's say she took Crosshair's words to heart and left with Batcher at the end of 3.01:

She's outside the base with no weapon and no datapad. Even if she happens to remember the abandoned shuttle, she has no way to find it other than just blindly running around the jungle.

(EDIT/UPDATE: I forgot the droid K9-X1 also had a datapad Omega could’ve taken after she used it to open Batcher’s chute in 3.01. Not sure if it had the same capabilities as Nala Se’s datapad, but I would guess so. The droid also had an electro baton she could’ve taken. Not exactly a blaster but it’d be better than nothing. 🤷‍♀️)

And, while Batcher would be some help against the jungle creatures, one lurca hound isn't going to do much.

It would probably take a while, but I’m sure the lurca hounds and/or the stormtroopers would find her. And even if she remembers Plan 72 herself, now she doesn't have another person (or a weapon) to help her execute it.

But, in 3.03, once she gets Crosshair out of the cell, he gives her the second blaster. Now, they're both armed. They get outside, and he suggests they "follow the flight path" to find the crashed shuttle. He also watches her back the whole time they're in the jungle, and when the stormtroopers find them, he suggests Plan 72 and acts as a distraction while she steals the shuttle.

I also love that moment when she seems to give up, but Crosshair doesn’t let her:

Crosshair: You got us this far, and we’re not done yet.

One small detail I appreciate: if you look really closely at his facial expression when she apologizes, he really goes 😟 to hear that Omega of all people has given up hope that they’ll actually escape.

In any case, Omega, Crosshair and even Batcher all needed to be there to escape Tantiss as they did. And even then, they probably wouldn't have gotten away safely without Emerie bringing Hemlock Omega's results to have him call off the V-Wings.

Navigating Lau

Once the group crash-lands on Lau, Crosshair proves crucial to their escape efforts there. We always focus on her contributions, but don't really talk about his.

Omega probably would've been at the crash site all day, freezing and trying to fix the shuttle, if Crosshair hadn't prompted her to leave. He locates the spaceport, and says they need to move before they're discovered.

Once there, he reassures Omega that the stormtroopers are a standard patrol presence and tells her they can't contact Hunter and Wrecker because the Empire monitors long-range comms. He then comes up with the plan to try to sneak about one of the shuttles at the spaceport, but it's too well-guarded.

This is where Omega then takes the lead: she tries to bribe the spaceport employee and then decides to get money by hustling people at the cantina.

The whole time, though, Crosshair is watching her back and tries to stand up for her against the Imperial officer and the street kid.

And, despite how much he dislikes it, he does follow Omega to the cargo docks and helps her free Batcher. During the shootout, he fights the troopers while she steals the ship. Just like on Tantiss, they wouldn't have gotten out of there without working together.

Finally, as they head to reunite with Hunter and Wrecker, Crosshair tries to prepare her for the possibility that they might not be there. We know he's wrong, but he was still looking out for her (even if it was probably just him projecting).

Crosshair's Knowledge of the Empire and Tantiss

Just like on Lau, Crosshair's knowledge about the Empire and its procedures, etc. proves crucial in TBB's larger fight against Tantiss.

Once he and Omega reunite with everyone in 3.05, Crosshair helps by sharing what information he does have (although it does take him a while because of his trauma).

He takes TBB to Barton IV to decrypt the datapad in 3.05; he tells Rex & co. about the CX operatives in 3.06; he volunteers to take on CX-2 twice in 3.07; and he initiates the plan to break Rampart out of prison in 3.12.

Obviously, I don't like that Crosshair stayed with the Empire and left his family in 1.16. But the unspoken truth is that, without Crosshair staying in the Empire as long as he did, TBB probably never would've found Tantiss.

It was so well-guarded that the only way they could've found it was to track a ship already going there, like CX-2's Dagger in 3.11 or the science vessel in 3.13.

Also, while Omega wasn't there, Crosshair's knowledge of Tantiss and the surrounding jungle was crucial to TBB infiltrating the base in 3.14 and 3.15 -- even though the CX operatives beat their asses and take them prisoner anyway.

We'll circle back to Tantiss, Round 2 later, but for now, let's refocus on mid-Season 3:

Recovering from Tantiss

Let's talk about Omega needing Crosshair during their downtime on Pabu.

While the show focuses on Crosshair recovering from his trauma, Omega was traumatized by her imprisonment too. And Crosshair is the only one who knows firsthand just how bad it was for her.

Her day-to-day routine on Tantiss clearly wasn't as brutal as his, but she was still separated from her family for months.

As she tells Emerie in 3.03, it reminded her of being trapped on Kamino; and as we know from Season 1, that's where Omega was initially traumatized.

In mid-Season 3, she's so focused on going back for the other clone prisoners, but it's clear from several looks and remarks in 3.05 and 3.06 that she's still processing everything that happened to her there.

Throughout Season 3, we get several scenes of Crosshair being worried about her, checking on her and trying to keep her safe. We also get at least two scenes where he affirms just how bad Omega's suffering was:

Emerie in 3.03: "You should go back to your room." Crosshair: "You mean her CELL."

This exchange was short, but I love that Crosshair refused to let Emerie gaslight Omega. (I know Emerie was essentially a prisoner too, so her gaslighting wasn't exactly intentional, but that's a story for another time.)

We also get The Argument in 3.05 where Crosshair holds Hunter accountable, albeit in a very mean-spirited way:

Crosshair: You let Omega be taken to Tantiss. She went through what she did because YOU failed. You're angry because she escaped with MY help, not yours.

Admittedly we don't get to see it, but I wouldn't be surprised if Omega's recap of her imprisonment in 3.05 glossed over just how bad it was for her.

Again, Crosshair knew firsthand just how much she suffered. So, he tries to look out for her as best as he can, whether that's physically or emotionally. (Admittedly, we could've gotten more scenes of this, but the show is focused more on Crosshair's post-Tantiss recovery rather than Omega's.)

In 3.08, Omega's focused on helping Crosshair start his healing journey. I'm sure it proved to be a decent distraction while inadvertently helping her start processing her own trauma too.

I mean, at the end of the episode, they're meditating TOGETHER. It's not like she showed him how to do it and then just watched him or walked away.

It might have been inadvertent, but by helping him heal, I also think Omega was starting her own healing journey too.

Family, Reconciliation and Hope

Another recurring thread in mid-Season 3 (and even into the finale) is how Crosshair's journey reaffirms Omega's belief in the power of love, hope and family.

We know from Season 1 that Omega always wanted to save Crosshair and bring him back to their family. Even though he leaves them willingly in 1.16, she still cared about him and in 2.15, she and the others pushed Hunter to do whatever necessary to save Crosshair.

But, especially after losing Tech in 2.16, I can imagine just how important saving Crosshair and restoring him to their family was for her.

As she says in 2.16 when Hemlock captures Hunter and Wrecker:

Omega: I already lost Tech. I'm not gonna lose them too.

From the way she pushes Crosshair to talk to Hunter at the beginning of 3.05, it's clear she's invested in seeing the brothers reconcile. And, based on her expression when she sees Wrecker hugging his brothers at the end of the episode, it must've been so comforting for her after everything she and their family went through -- especially losing Tech.

Additionally, throughout the show, Omega has always tried to believe in people's goodness, and appeal to their kindness and compassion.

With Cid (and others), she's proven wrong, and they ultimately take advantage of her.

But, Crosshair proved she's right to believe people CAN change -- that they can reject the darkness and choose light.

When the group is debating whether to let Omega train with Ventress in 3.09, Omega uses Crosshair as her prime example that "people can change" and that she's not naïve for wanting to give Ventress a chance despite her past crimes.

I think she ultimately learned that there's a balance: that yes, some people like Cid will take advantage of you; but that there are others like Crosshair and Ventress who are trying to be better and will come through for you if given the chance.

(ADDITION: While it took her a long time to come around, Emerie also ultimately makes the right decision to turn against Hemlock/the Empire and help free the Tantiss prisoners. Maybe after reuniting with Emerie in 3.12, Omega hoped her sister would come to her senses and help/join her, just like Crosshair did. I can’t say for certain, but it’s a thought.)

Returning to Tantiss

In 3.11, when the Empire attacks and invades Pabu, Omega feels guilty for seeing the island full of refugees suffer because of her.

She straight-up says as much to Hunter and Crosshair. And while Hunter tries to emphasize that it's not her fault, based on what she tells Crosshair later in the episode, she still feels guilty:

Omega: Look at what they've already done. I can't let the people here suffer more because of me.

And, in 3.12, when Crosshair justifies letting Omega surrender herself, he affirms her sacrifice for the people of Pabu:

Crosshair: The Empire would've destroyed this whole town. She stopped them.

You can argue that Crosshair made a bad decision by letting Omega surrender, but I personally feel like they had no choice, especially if they wanted to minimize the suffering on Pabu. They couldn't hide; they couldn't fight; and they tried to run but failed.

I've wondered before if Hunter had been in Crosshair's shoes in 3.11, whether he would've let Omega go. I honestly don't know if he would've. Crosshair himself was so reluctant, and I imagine Hunter would've been just as bad or worse.

We've all talked before about how much Crosshair was afraid of going back to Tantiss, but we tend to overlook Omega's fear because of how brave and determined she is in 3.11. When CX-2 is taking her back to Tantiss, the way Omega breathes when she's on the ship is reminiscent of meditation breathing. I imagine she was trying to collect herself before facing Tantiss again.

I think she was afraid to go back, but she was more concerned about the people of Pabu and the prisoners on Tantiss, so she was trying to make the best of a bad situation.

But, despite all her fears and his own, Crosshair supported her decision and then tried his best to track her ship. And while he ultimately failed, I'm sure the thought that he was there for her -- physically and emotionally watching her back -- helped Omega make that choice and face it as bravely as she could.

(ADDITION: Right before she boards CX-2’s ship, there’s a moment where she turns around and looks back at Pabu. Was she looking for Crosshair specifically, or Hunter or someone else familiar, or just looking back in general? I’m not sure.)

Escaping Tantiss, Round 2 (AKA The Shot)

So, Crosshair helps his brothers infiltrate Tantiss.

They get captured by the CX operatives and taken to the training room/CX lab. Echo, Omega and the clone prisoners work together to fight the CX operatives and save TBB.

After Crosshair saves Hunter from CX-2, he affirms he's going with Hunter to find and save Omega.

It's honestly a really good thing he did, because without Crosshair on that bridge, that scene plays out very differently.

Hunter probably could've taken out CX-2's Dagger and Scorch by himself, but with Hemlock holding Omega at gunpoint, I think Hunter might've actually put his blaster down when Hemlock threatened her.

It'd be in-character for him, as he surrendered when Hemlock's commandos had Wrecker at gunpoint in 2.16. Admittedly, he was vastly outnumbered, which is a big factor. But, if Hunter is on that bridge by himself, he and Hemlock are basically in a standoff.

With Crosshair with him, though, the brothers have Hemlock outnumbered and outgunned. If Hemlock managed to shoot one of them, the other would take him down.

Additionally, either of them might’ve backed down if they had to navigate that situation alone. But together, they have each other for support. They're greater than the sum of their parts after all.

So, Hemlock has Omega at gunpoint and is using her as a human shield. The brothers take a knee on the bridge, and Hemlock decides to take Omega over to the edge, so if the brothers manage to shoot him, he and Omega will both fall to their deaths.

Omega signals them. Hunter catches it, but Crosshair apparently doesn't. So, Hunter tells him what to do.

And now we come to The Shot:

Let's say Hunter is out there alone and the scene plays out the exact same way. Omega signals him, he sees it, and she stabs Hemlock in the leg and lifts the binders so he can shoot them.

Could Hunter have made that shot?

Obviously, it's a TV show set in a science-fantasy universe. So, there's always a chance. Plus, Hunter is definitely a better shot than the average person, and in a high-stakes situation like that, I'm sure the adrenaline and his love for Omega would help (just as it does for Crosshair in-canon).

But, based on everything we've seen of Hunter's shooting abilities in the show, I'm going to say: No, he probably wouldn't have.

In 2.09, Tech shoots the vial of ipsium instead of Hunter or Wrecker because:

Tech: If the shot is not precise, it'll cause another cave-in.

If Hunter was a better shot than Tech, Tech would've had him take it. But, Tech was the best of the three, so he did it.

And, Crosshair -- as a sniper -- was the best shot in Clone Force 99. I mean, that was his whole thing. He’s a sharpshooter.

I know that Crosshair has basically everything stacked against him, and he still managed to do it. But, Hunter would've been facing many of the same disadvantages -- injuries; lighting and weather conditions; the distance, size and speed of the target, etc. And based on everything we've seen in the series, Hunter is a worse shot than Crosshair.

If Hunter knew he could make that shot himself, I think he would've taken it knowing Crosshair was missing his shooting hand. And, if Hunter only thought there was a chance he'd make it, he clearly didn't want to risk it. He deferred to Crosshair, because he knew Crosshair was the better shot of the two of them, even with all the disadvantages they were facing.

No, it HAD to be Crosshair.

As I said, Crosshair needed to be there for Hunter and Omega.

He helped Hunter take out the Dagger and Scorch; he supported Hunter as Omega was being held at gunpoint and Hemlock told them to surrender; and he made The Shot to free Omega and then helped Hunter turn Hemlock into Swiss cheese.

That was the only way the three of them could've done it -- together.

Final Thoughts

Ultimately, as much as we understandably love to talk about Crosshair needing Omega to grow and change, Omega needed Crosshair too.

After losing Tech, she wanted so badly to escape with Crosshair and return to TBB so they could all be a family again.

He gave her support and encouragement during her darkest days.

He looked out for her as she processed her traumas and never let others diminish her suffering.

He supported her decision to protect Pabu by surrendering herself, despite her fears and his own.

He showed her that change was possible and that healing is a journey -- one they started together.

And then he helped his brothers rescue her and the others from Tantiss, and ultimately saved her life.

Plus, as we hear about in the epilogue, Crosshair helped his brothers raise Omega for ~10 happy years on Pabu.

Omega needed Crosshair in Season 3 just as much as he needed her.

She needed ALL five of her brothers/dads to become the kind and capable person we meet in the epilogue.

[rqgnarok]

music to my eyes - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 4,266

warnings: spoilers for the season 3 finale of ted lasso, jamie being a lil self deprecating. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: jamie has a crush on the band’s bassist. 

author’s note at the end!

Jamie’s so, so late.

Roy’s gonna have his balls. It’s the first training for the Queen’s Cup final against Tottenham– their first one without Ted, a little something before the freaking Champion’s League starts next year– and Jamie’s having the worst morning of his life.

He woke up late for his 4 am training that ran long, traffic was absolute shit and now he’s sprinting– not running, cause he’s not allowed to after he and Colin almost ran over the Prince of Denmark while racing each other to the locker room, a story for another day– down the hallway with Roy Kent’s fury just waiting to find its rightful owner. 

He didn’t even have time to comb his hair today. It still looks amazing, but it’s the routine that matters. For his mental health or whatever. 

Maybe that’s why he feels so jittery and doesn’t look where he’s going as he makes his way to the locker room. Jamie’s got his bag clutched to his chest and his headphones hanging around his neck, his jacket halfway on before he gave up and left it trailing down his side like a sad blanket. 

He’s cursing whatever Gods control alarm clocks and traffic and hairbrushes when he knocks onto someone. It’s so forceful it sends them both to the ground with a grunt and a little ah! of surprise. Jamie tries not to grow annoyed and fails. He considers laying on the ground and becoming one with the carpet so he doesn’t face Roy’s justified punishment and sighs out his nose, pushing himself to a sitting position.

“–so sorry,” and it’s a woman, Jamie just knocked out a woman in his rush to work. What’s next? Is he gonna hit a cat with his car? Maybe spit on a kid’s face? She keeps babbling apologies, unaware of Jamie’s foul mood. “–supposed to be at her office but there’s just– there are so many hallways–”

“‘s alright,” he cuts her off harsher than he means to, guilt stabbing at him when she looks at him with wide, remorseful eyes. Jamie sighs, dusting off his clothes and standing, offering her a hand. “Me fault for bein’ in a rush. Should’ve seen where I was going.”

“Oh, god, you actually know where you’re going,” she says with a grimace, accepting his hand. She’s on her feet and standing too close to Jamie for a second that feels like a lifetime– almost nose-to-nose with Richmond’s greatest. Her laugh is stuttery and nervous when she steps back, barely meeting Jamie’s eye.

She’s cute. Jamie’s not planning to do anything about it, especially not with his fine for being late slowly becoming one for missing training but she is. Cute. His mouth lifts in a half smile at the thought, charmed. 

“I was looking for Rebecca Welton’s office but I only got myself lost,” she says sheepishly, putting her hair behind her ear every couple of seconds since it keeps stubbornly falling out of place. Jamie’s fingers twitch a little but no. No, absolutely not, he’s not doing this to himself, no sir. “Is there any way you can give me directions without having to go with me? I don’t want you to be late for– shit. Practice, huh?”

Jamie thinks she’s the smartest woman that’s ever walked the face of the Earth until he remembers where they are. At Richmond’s training facilities. She’s looking at a disheveled man in a sports outfit. The story kind of tells itself.

“I– yeah,” Jamie stutters a little, clearing his throat to disguise it. “There’s, um, it ain’t a problem. I can take you there if you want.”

Her entire posture screams relief as soon as he offers, and it’s enough for Jamie to make up his mind even if she hasn’t said yes yet. “Would you? They said in the group chat not to be late and, like, they weren’t specific about it but you just know when a message’s for you, you know. And here I am, late–”

A beat.

“–and rambling,” she smiles at him again, the sight tugging at Jamie’s chest as he stands there like an idiot, his brain rebooting whenever she does it. “Yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

And so Jamie asks a kitman to take his stuff to the locker room while he walks her up to Rebecca’s office. His hand hovers but doesn’t quite touch the small of her back while he blabbers his way through small talk. Nice weather, today, innit, traffic was absolute hell though. Oh, you’re not from around here, that’s nice, do you plan on going sightseeing?

He delivers her to Rebecca’s floor to a thankful, ecstatic Higgins, who welcomes her with a hearty shake of the hand and promises that she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s barely able to spare him a smile and a quick thanks before the door’s closed behind them and Jamie’s standing there on his own, smiling at nothing.

He’s still wearing a dopey grin when he finally finds himself on the field, Roy yelling at him to run laps until sundown for being late. His legs are killing him, he’s £200 poorer, and he didn’t even get the woman’s name; but nothing can drag him down from his high and make him forget how she’d squeezed his arm in gratitude, touch warm and calloused against his skin. 

The next day Rebecca’s there before practice starts, looking tall and pleased as she claps her hands and shares the big news: since the final of the Queen’s Cup is being held right here at Nelson Road, she managed to get a band to play during the halftime show. They’ll be here the entire next two weeks for rehearsals and staging, so everyone must be on their best behavior if they don’t want their name in the summer transfer market.

Jamie doesn’t connect the dots until he sees her again, this time at a local bar big enough to house less than two thousand people. Keeley hears from Roy who hears from Beard, who heard from Higgins that Rebecca said the secret band was gonna hang around the city for a couple of other smaller, quick gigs. 

Jamie manages to excuse himself from video games at Colin’s with the guys and offers himself to Keeley as a buffer between her and Roy at a bar tonight. Though, in Jamie’s very humble and very right opinion, they’re already on their way to getting back together for good.

The band’s gathered a nice crowd, the lighting low and the thrum of the music hammering on Jamie’s teeth. He’s nursing the beer Roy bought him, the man charmed enough by Keeley’s presence that he let Jamie bend his rigorous diet regime. Just for the night. 

It takes three songs for the bassist to speak up, a makeshift spotlight landing on her, sweaty and delighted at being onstage. Jamie’s blood rushes to his face and his vision blacks out for a second. 

It’s her. No longer is she lost and out of her element, shyly asking a stranger for help. Both of her feet are steady on the ground, the strap of her bass snug around her neck. Her fingers are toying with the strings even when no song’s playing, an air of rightful confidence washing over the room as it takes her in. Jamie isn’t the only one suddenly breathless.

She grins against the microphone, coy. “Thank you so much for having us, Jaded Joker. We’re Karma Police, and we hope you have as much fun hearin’ us as we do playing for you.”

They fall into another song with that quick introduction and Jamie can’t take his eyes off her, barely hearing the song as the world around him slows down. Her clothes and jewelry sway with her to the rhythm of the music, the lights shifting seamlessly into different colors making her look ethereal. 

Keeley clocks it in immediately.

“She’s good, huh?” she nods at the stage where Jamie’s stranger is moving to the beat of the bass like no one’s watching, shamelessly enjoying herself and making funny faces at her bandmates. “Fuckin’ smoking, too.”

Jamie only hums in a very Roy Kent-like way, knowing there’s no fooling Keeley fucking Jones. The last thing he needs is to give her details and have her dip a toe into Jamie’s nonexistent love life.

Of course, he doesn’t take into consideration that Roy’s a brazen gossip.

“So,” Sam elongates the word as he’s spotting Jamie on the press the next day, happy watching him grunt at the effort. “How was the band last night?”

Jamie almost drops the damned thing on his chest.

“Roy said you enjoyed it,” he continues giddily like he didn’t almost commit accidental manslaughter by catching Jamie off guard. “Especially the bassist. What was her name?”

Sam fakes confusion for less than a minute before Jamie gives, mumbling it under his breath. He’d been weak and googled Karma Police in the privacy of his car before going home, swiping through the images that popped up until he recognized her face. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), the article he clicked on informed him. Jamie had repeated the name under his breath just to see what it felt like on his tongue for an embarrassing amount of time. 

Thanks to Karma Police’s bassist and lyricist (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the band’s sophomore album New Perspective has found a home in people’s hearts and high on the global charts.

Keeley wasn’t kidding. She’s good. 

“Oh,” Sam realizes, some of his amusement softening into genuine interest when he watches Jamie’s face do whatever the fuck it's doing. “Oh, you like like her.”

Jamie immediately flushes under Sam’s gaze, making sure the weight is safe in its place before physically fleeing the conversation. Sam doesn’t mention it to anyone, which Jamie appreciates so badly he could cry a little, but he does find his eyes across the locker room later when Rebecca comes in, four people in tow.

“Everybody, these are the wonderful musicians I spoke to you about the other day,” she says it in a way that screams I’m a pleasant human being and embarrass me and I will end your career right where you stand all at once. “We’re on a little tour of the installations and I thought we’d all come to say hi to wrap it up.”

The boys are charming and welcome them with ease. They’re not one of the most liked teams in England despite their bad runs for nothing, but Jamie’s frozen the second he catches sight of her. She’s a step behind one of her bandmates, shaking hands and smiling politely at conversations while staying slightly in the background, the stage persona from the previous night gone like taking off a jacket. 

Jamie takes pride in the way their eyes meet and her tight expression loosens, her smile blossoming into something more genuine, less unsure.

“Hey, stranger,” she says a little awkwardly after having gathered the courage Jamie couldn’t to cross the room and say hi. It feels like they’re alone in a room full of people, and for a second Jamie thinks he sees Sam stealing a few looks, making sure he keeps the others away and distracted for a little privacy. “Did you make it to training the other day?”

“What?” Jamie blanks like an idiot, then shakes his head when he remembers how they met; both of them, late for their respective responsibilities. “Oh! Oh, yeah. I– yeah. I had to run for me life to make up for it, but I made it.”

“Good,” she smiles, shifting in her place. “I, um. I’m glad we get to play for you guys. What you’ve done this past season, getting back to the top, has been unbelievable.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he replies, awestruck, and backtracks when she looks a little apprehensive. She’s doing the hair thing again, combing it back while it stubbornly escapes its place every couple of seconds. A nervous tic, maybe. “I mean– some friends and I, we saw you last night at the Jaded Joker. If anything, it’s an honor we get you guys to play for us.”

“Oh!” she seems pleased, ducking her head at the compliment. Her shoulders loosen again, and Jamie tries not to feel like he just scored a goal against Man City. “Oh, you should’ve said hi! Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I did,” he says, too soft, and it feels like an admission of something when her eyes search his face, for a moment landing on his mouth before putting herself back together. “Up there, it’s like– it’s like you forget everyone else. You’re made for the stage.”

If anything, (Y/N)’s delight only strengthens, tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Jamie finds himself trying to follow the trail of new skin and flushes as well when he catches himself just in time. 

“Thank you,” she matches his tone. “You’d think it’d be nervewracking but it’s… silence. In my head. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”

“It does,” Jamie agrees, breathless. It’s exactly how he feels when he gets the ball on his feet, every anxiety and worry and part of him he doesn’t like quieting the minute he steps on a pitch. “I get the same when I play. Peace in the chaos, I guess”

(Y/N) looks at him like she’s discovering the world’s eight wonder. 

“Kids!” her bandmate breaks the moment by coming over, arm draped around (Y/N)’s shoulder. (Y/N) blinks, looking a little shell-shocked. “Sorry to interrupt this party, but rehearsal awaits.”

Disappointment claws at Jamie’s belly, but before he can let it fester the conversation continues, bubbly and loud. “Alas! We’ll be done around 5. You’re welcome to visit then. We’re going to the third floor, I think.”

(Y/N)’s only amused at her friend’s antics, even if Jamie’s back to having a knot in his throat out of nervousness alone. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s like he’s eight again and crushing on the cute boy that lived in the apartment in front of the Tartt’s. 

“See you then?” (Y/N) says, hopeful, and Jamie thinks it’s only fair he’s brave as well and nods as resolutely as he can. 

“I’ll be there.”

He ends up having to ask Higgins for directions, after promising he’s not gonna stir up any trouble at least four times. It takes Roy passing by and giving a few reassuring grunts, guaranteeing Jamie’s best behavior before Higgins gives him the location. When Jamie goes to thank him, Roy only points at him menacingly, though lacking his usual frown, and says don’t fuck this up. 

Rehearsals are just wrapping up when Jamie gets there, instruments being packed and people saying goodbye to each other when he makes his way into the room. He immediately finds (Y/N) sitting on the piano playing a complicated melody.

She lights up when she sees him, the music seizing. “You made it!”

Jamie stops her from standing up, instead sitting next to her after she scoots over to give him room. “That was nice. A song of yours?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “Hopefully soon. You never know, when you’re writing. You start working on a song and it ends up being a completely different thing from when you started.”

“Sounds messy,” Jamie says, a little consternated at the thought. Fortunately, (Y/N) laughs.

“It is. Do you play?”

“Fuck no,” he says quickly, then tries to explain himself as she splutters in amused surprise. “I mean, I don’t think I can. It seems pretty complicated. I’ve always been better with me feet.”

He reaches for the keys and begins playing some nonsense, loud and offkey, knowing it’ll make her laugh again.

“No, you gotta–” she cackles, placing her hands on top of his and quieting the dissonant echo of the keys. Jamie feels the tug at his lips, insistent, automatic, the same rush of delight that courses over him whenever he’s in her presence. “Gentle. Be gentle about it, jeez.”

She lines up their hands so her fingers move his and begins playing a quiet, fun melody. Jamie’s doing shit other than staring at her face, slightly twisted in concentration as she mumbles the notes under her breath. G, G, G, F, G, B, G, G…

“I know this one,” Jamie mumbles in recognition. (Y/N) turns her head to smile at him, pleased. “‘s from Nottin Hill, innit?”

“And a million other movies,” she murmurs back, unable to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

“‘s my favorite film,” he concedes, finding it incredibly easy to be honest when they’re sitting side by side like this, alone, their sides warm against each other. He loves his teammates, but (Y/N) didn’t know him when he was awful and arrogant, too cocky. There’s nothing she holds against him, no standard he needs to meet for her to be happy in his company. “Cried me eyes out at the end. Though I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of anyone.”

(Y/N) laughs. “I promise I won’t. It’s a good movie. Doesn’t beat While You Were Sleeping, though.”

Jamie’s expression remains blank. (Y/N)’s face falls into disbelief, her hands tightening against his. “You’ve never watched While You Were Sleeping.”

He’s heard of it, but it’s hilarious to watch her forget herself, any sign of nervousness or polite shyness finally out the window. Jamie likes it– likes her, wants her to be comfortable with him and stop holding herself so tightly whenever she’s off the stage. 

“You poor, sheltered boy,” she exhales, aghast. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to introduce you to the best romantic comedy ever made.”

Jamie goes to take the opening but stops himself at the last second. He knows this process; the flirting, the leaning in for just a moment so she smells his cologne then pulling away, leaving her wanting more. The asking for a date, a fancy dinner, then taking her home. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dodging calls until she stops trying to reach him. 

He’s been doing it for years. He wants to desperately break the cycle and he wants to do it with her, but does he have it in him? Jamie’s been working on himself harder than he’s worked for anything else in his life, but what if he’s one slip away from becoming his old self? From turning out like his dad?

Sure, the old man’s changed, or– well. He’s trying to. But whether Jamie likes it or not he sees a little too much of him in himself sometimes, and he can’t do that to her. He’s known her for less than a week and he knows she deserves better. Everyone does. 

Roy told him not to fuck it up. Maybe this is what he meant. 

His expression stutters, shatters, and reestablishes itself in a matter of a moment, a blink of an eye. Jamie knocks his shoulder into hers gently, leaning back into place after a second. He teases: “And who made you the expert, eh?”

Rather than letting it drop, (Y/N) takes the bait just like Jamie knew she would. They stay there until a security guard comes to kick them out for the night, and they talk about everything and nothing. Movies, songs, bands they like, and foods they don’t. Jamie’s favorite players when he was a kid, his hero-like worship for Roy Kent, and how he’s made him a better player, a better man.

(Y/N) shares with him the first time she held a guitar in her hands, the albums she listened to when she was a kid that changed her as a person, realizing she could create magic through words and music. Her favorite cities to tour, how long she’s known her bandmates, how she’d die and kill for them if necessary.

By the time he’s walking into the pitch at Nelson Road two weeks later, the roar of the crowd around him swallowing every other sound, Jamie’s spent every free moment of his time with (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was unavoidable, helpless as he is in his attraction to her, but Jamie doesn’t know what to do without, as Roy so carefully put it, fucking it up.

It hadn’t helped when (Y/N) snuck into the locker room to wish him luck, showing him the Richmond bracelet she was gonna wear onstage with a roll of the eyes. “Our stylist wouldn’t let me wear the jersey, but don’t you doubt for a second that I’m rooting for you, Tartt.”

Jesus Christ. Jamie had felt his cheeks warm up and dared to thank her with a loud, exaggerated kiss on the forehead that left them both grinning like idiots and Roy staring at them knowingly.

Before Jamie followed his teammates into the field, Roy had pulled him aside with a hand on his shoulder. “Tartt–”

“I know, I know,” he answered a little too self-deprecatingly. “Don’t fuck it up.”

But Roy only raised his eyebrows, realization dawning on his features. “You think I say that because I think you will?”

Jamie mumbled some not-words under his breath and Roy cursed. “Prick. I say it because you deserve good things, dickhead. And you should let them come to you when they do.”

Good things, Jamie thinks after one of his passes gives Dani the first goal of the night. The younger man jumps into his arms while hugging him tight and laughing into his ear, their teammates joining their embrace less than a second later. 

He looks towards the general area of the VIP seats where he knows (Y/N) and the rest of the band are cheering them on. He pictures her screaming at the top of her lungs, arms in the air, and being happy for him like she’s known him for all his life.

She might be the best thing. Whether he deserves her or not, Jamie wants her. Wants to be with her, watch romantic comedies until they both cry and spend his free afternoons watching her play the piano while he plays FIFA in the living room. He wants songs written about him that have him blushing whenever he hears them in public and for her to come to his games and be able to dedicate every goal to her he ever scores.

Good things. Yeah, Jamie can get down on that.

“You fucking asshole!” she jumps into his arms the second she finds him on the pitch after the game, a medal hanging from his neck and sweat sticking to his skin. (Y/N) doesn’t seem to care as she lets him lift her in the air, holding onto each other tight. “You did it! You fucking did it!”

“I missed your show,” he replies instead, only a little bummed. He’s seen her play live before but there was an itch under his skin the entire half-time, knowing how close she was and being unable to get to her. Jamie grins. “And stole it, too.”

“There he is,” she teases gleefully. “For a second there I thought you were gonna be humble about this.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” he says cockily.

“And how’s Mr. Man of the Match gonna celebrate, huh?” she wonders, hitting him lightly on the chest now that he’s put her back on the ground. “A fancy club? Getting shitfaced with the boys? A date with your left hand?”

Jamie puts his hand on hers at the last second, stopping her from pulling away. She sways into him, all traces of joking vanishing from her expression. He forces himself to stay on her face, the urge to look away defeated by how she’s looking at him. In wonder, open, hopeful.

She deserves good things, too. Jamie is determined to be the one to give them to her. 

“I was thinking dinner?” he asks, fidgeting a little on his feet. “Maybe a movie? Thought I could see what While You Were Sleeping’s all about.”

(Y/N)’s mouth is fighting against a smile, somewhat hesitant still. Jamie doesn’t blame her, he’s been beating around this bush the entire time they’ve known each other.

“You want any company?” she wonders.

“Well, what kind of date would it be if it was just me?” he forces his features into faux confusion, watching her finally lose the battle and beam like a kid on Christmas. Her fingers twitch where he’s holding onto her hand.

“Not a great one,” she concedes, looking like all of Jamie’s dreams. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

Awful. Jamie feels awful about Mexican. He’s a white sexy boy in all the ways that matter and his taste buds punish him for eating spicy food no matter how much he likes it. But he can compromise. He’s starting to realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do for (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“I feel fantastic about anything you like,” he answers truthfully. “I’m sure me tongue will forgive me eventually.”

(Y/N) laughs, fingers in Jamie’s hold shifting so she can hold his hand. “I think there’s a good lyric somewhere in there.”

“You plannin’ on writing me a song?”

She smirks. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t yet.”

Jamie squeezes her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

“Can’t wait to hear it, love.”

___

there’s an ache in my bones to make a series out of this fic omg

i can’t believe the show’s over (is it tho????) so here’s some jamie fluff to heal our tender, mourning hearts. as always you’re welcome to tell me what you think and chat jamie and ted lasso as much as you’d like! thank u for reading AND for all the love on my last jamie piece that you can read here!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

[lam-ila]

Baseball and Love || Dawson Mercer

Summary: Four times you watched baseball at home and one time you watched in person.

Word Count: 1,906

Warnings: one scene occurring during quarantine

please let me know if you find more that i should add

NHL Masterlist

a/n: here’s my 2024 summer fic exchange for @hischier-papaya! i hope you like it! as always, huge thank you and shout out to @wyattjohnston for hosting the fic exchange! you’re amazing!!

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

—————

1. The First Time

Every summer, since before you were born, your parents hosted a summer barbecue at your house. Eight year old you was running around with other kids your age, screaming with joy as you played tag. Early on into your second round of tag, you were plucked out of the game by your parents to meet a new friend.

“Sweetheart, this is Dawson,” one of your parents explained to you. Your eyes were wide with intrigue as your mouth twitched into a small smile at the sight of a new friend, so you weren’t sure which one of your parents was talking to you.

“Hi,” you said to him. You looked over your shoulder to the game of tag still going on behind you. Looking back at Dawson, you continued “Do you wanna join our game?”

“Yeah!” Dawson exclaimed, looking up at his parents for a nod of approval before running off after you.

After many rounds of tag and a few other games, you and your new friend were completely tired out. Luckily for you, it was perfect timing as the Reds game was just staring to begin. You plopped yourself down on the floor in front of the tv where the game was playing. Since Dawson wasn’t introduced to anyone besides you, he followed you to the tv and sat down right next to you.

“Who are you rooting for?” Dawson asked, looking at you looking at the tv.

“The Reds," you answered, still looking at the tv. “My dad and grandpa like them, so I do too.”

“Cool,” Dawson followed your eyes back to the tv, staying silent for a bit before asking “Do you want some lemonade? I’m gonna get some for myself.”

—————

2. The Time at a Sleepover

Sleepovers with Dawson were a common occurrence and at these sleepovers, baseball was watched whenever the Reds were playing. After dinner, you and Dawson spent the hour before the game begun reassembling the tv room and turning it into a fort. Blankets were laid across and above chairs borrowed from the dining room and pillows were placed on the carpet beneath the temporary shelter.

“I heard there’s a rumour going around that we’re dating.” Dawson casually mentioned while snacking on the bowl of popcorn resting in between you two.

“Ew that’s gross, Daws,” you exclaimed, scrunching your face in disgust. “We’ve known each other since we were eight. That’s like, five years.”

“Yeah…” Dawson trailed off, looking at you while your eyes were glued to the game. “That’s gross.” He slightly shook his head, mentally shoving his ever growing crush on you deeper in his mind.

—————

3. The Time Before He Got Drafted

Quarantine sucked. Everyone knew that. Your last year of high school was cut short, the NHL season was paused until further notice, and worst of all, you couldn’t see Dawson. However, despite not being able to see each other in person, you and Dawson were constantly on the on a call together. One night, a little over a week away from the 2020 NHL draft, you and Dawson were on a call together, as per usual, and both watching the Reds game on either side of the call.

Your conversation consisted mostly of comments about the game, until Dawson spoke up.

“The NHL draft is coming up. Would you wanna join my family’s bubble to be at my place with me during it?” Dawson wondered.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I am a little nervous though. What if I don’t get drafted?” You immediately answered without question.

“Dawson Mercer,” you started, lowering the volume of your tv so there wasn’t much background noise. “listen to me when I say this: you are going to get drafted. You’re such a crazy talented player that it’s impossible for you to go undrafted. Any team who doesn't see that is simply stupid.”

“Thanks, it really means a lot.” He breathed as he felt a rush of warmth flush to his cheeks. He giddily smiled as he thought about how sweet your affirmation was.

“Also, I’m totally buying all of the merch of whatever team you’re getting drafted to.” Your statement broke Dawson’s train of thought as he laughed. “I’m gonna be so broke, but I’ll take being broke if it means supporting you.”

—————

4. The Time You Surprised Him

About half of Dawson’s third NHL season passed by without you being able to go to one of his games due to your schedule. You felt awful for it, but Dawson reassured you over and over again that it was okay, but you could tell he was still a little upset that you had yet to make it. Unbeknownst to him, you were flying over to New Jersey to watch him play and to spend a few days with him.

You planned everything with Jesper and Nicole, having them pick you up from the airport and driving you over to the game, keeping your bag in their car, so Dawson wouldn’t suspect a thing.

You went over to the Prudential Center and waited with Nicole and the other WAGS for the team to see everyone before the game started. It felt weird, but yet nice, for you to be waiting with the WAGS since you and Dawson weren’t together, but you pushed that aside, anticipating for Dawson’s excitement over seeing you for the first time in a while.

You straightened as the team began to come out, eyes widening as you spotted Dawson talking to Jesper. You began to smile as you watched the two of them walk towards you and Nicole.

“Hey Nicole, how are you do-” Dawson began before his jaw dropped at the sight of you standing next to Nicole. “What are you- how are you- hi.” He engulfed you in a breathtakingly tight hug.

“Hi Daws,” you greeted him back, still holding each other.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he stated after pulling away.

“That’s because we planned to surprise you.” You briefly motioned over to Jesper and Nicole. “So, uh, surprise?”

Dawson turned over to face his teammate saying “You were in on this?” before bringing him into a bro-hug. “Thank you for bringing my best friend here.”

“Of course man.” Jesper smiled at the sight of Dawson being over the moon excited that you were standing in front of him.

The game ended with the Devils winning and Dawson scoring one of the goals, pointing up to were you were sitting with the WAGS as his celly, showing you that he dedicated his goal to you.

Once you saw Dawson after the game, you grabbed him into another hug whispering “I’m so so proud of you” into his hair.

You walked over to Jesper and Nicole’s car, grabbing your bag out of the trunk and placing it into Dawson’s trunk before following him into his car and making your way to his apartment.

After settling into his apartment, you watched as Dawson crashed onto his bed, turning on the tv in the process to the Reds game still going on. They were in Los Angeles to play the Dodgers meaning about half of the game was still left to play. You turned your head to the tv, smiling at his urgency to put on your favourite baseball team’s game. Looking back at Dawson, you saw him meet your eyes and extend his arms towards you while doing grabby hands, making you laugh.

“You know, you really do act like a child sometimes,” you teased.

“Oh, just get in my arms. I want cuddles,” he demanded, making you laugh.

You laid in his arms while watching the game for about an inning and a half before you start to feel the effects of travelling, going to Dawson's hockey game, and staying up late to watch a baseball game all in one day. You’re fighting the heaviness of your eyelids as your head lulled to the side, making you look away from the game on the tv.

Dawson lowered the volume and pressed a tentative kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as he whispered “Goodnight”.

You nuzzled your face further into his body, finding yourself placing a kiss to the bottom of his neck, close to his collarbone.

“Night Daws,” you mumble before accepting the sleep your body so desperately needs.

—————

+1. The Time He Surprised You

Despite being a big Reds fan, you had never been to a Reds game. That was something Dawson planned to change as he bought two tickets to a game for you two to go to during his offseason.

“Dawson, can you please tell me where you’re going?” you pestered in the passenger seat of Dawson’s car as he drove you to an unknown location.

“Nope,” Dawson smirked while responding. “you’ll see when we get there.”

“Ugh, fine," You rolled your head back against your seat’s head rest. “Wait, is that the Reds’ stadium?” You perked up, your face pressed up to the window.

“Mhm,” Dawson confirmed, “and we have two tickets to their game today.”

“Really?” you exclaimed. “Oh my gosh, thank you Dawson! I am so going to hug you when we get there.”

And you kept your promise, quickly unbuckling your seatbelt when the car was parked and rushing to the driver’s side of the car to give him the biggest and tightest hug you’ve ever given him.

Once inside the stadium, you found your seats and admired the very close up view, taking some pictures to send to your parents. You and Dawson then decided to get food before the game started, so you made your way to one of the food stands, hand in hand to avoid getting separated.

"Hey Daws?” you asked once standing in line, still hand in hand with him. “How much were the tickets?"

"That’s nothing of your concern," he asserted.

"But I want to pay you back."

"Not gonna happen."

"Okay, well I'll pay for food."

"You could pay me back by being my partner." Dawson started the sentence confidently and very quietly mumbled the last three words.

“Hm?” you hummed, hinting at him to repeat what he said.

“Oh, uh…” He let go of your hand, using his now empty hand to awkwardly scratch at his head. “Sure, you can pay for food.”

After eating, you two sat at your seats, waiting for the game to start.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” you said, your body twisted so that you were facing Dawson.

“Ah, no need to thank me,” Dawson waved your appreciation off. “It was about time I brought you to a Reds game.”

“But why’d you do it?” you asked, intrigued by what his answer would be.

“ ‘Cause you’re my best friend.”

“Yeah sure, everyone gets their best friend front row seats to their favourite baseball team,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Okay, you want the full answer?” You nodded in response, all your attention focused on him. “I like you, as in, romantically. I have since we were twelve.” Dawson stated in a matter of fact tone.

“You do?”

“Yeah, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. Nothing has to change.”

“Nah, I’d like for things to change because I like you too.” You laughed slightly as his reaction to you saying that, his face visibly brightening with excitement.

“Good because I’m going to kiss you now.”

You and Dawson leaned into each other, meeting in the middle and pressing a kiss to each other’s lips that expressed everything that’s been unsaid since you first met.

——————————

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[bvbygrl-writes]

Season of The Witch (7)

Pairing: Jacob Black x Witch!Reader x Edward Cullen

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n) (L/n) is 19 and still trying to figure out the world. She isn't sure of a lot of things but she is sure of one: she's gonna have her cake and eat it too.

A/N: I had so much fun writing the past two chapters.

Warnings: Angst, minor mention of vomiting if you squint, fighting. As usual 18+ so dni if you're a minor or blank account

The feeling of bile rising rushed to your throat and you darted for the bathroom down the hall, making it to the toilet just in time. You heaved and wretched, your body shaking as your head hung above the toilet bowl. Although it took away the queasiness in your stomach, the anxiety still loomed within you. You felt dizzy and lightheaded but at the same time weighed down heavily. The dream played over and over in your head like a movie. It was overwhelming.

After taking a much needed shower and brushing your teeth, you spent the next three hours laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You felt paralyzed with all the emotions you were feeling. You thought if maybe you laid there long enough you’d disappear, becoming nothing more than dust. It wasn’t working though. How were you supposed to explain this to either of them? That it was written in the stars that you belonged to them both equally?

The two men you adored were at a constant war with each other. The only time the three of you had been around each other ended with them ripping each other to shreds. Was it really possible for them both to share and love you equally when the mere mention of either of their names had them brewing with anger? 

Maybe you had misinterpreted the dream, it was completely possible. However, there was only one way you’d find out: you had to ask your mom. A deep wave of shame came over you. What would she think of you? How would she react? Groaning you rolled over, closing your eyes to keep the tears from falling. Your body shook as you sobbed into your pillow. This is what you wanted, right? If that was the case, why did you feel so sad?

When you got out of bed next, you noticed the sun was setting. Checking your phone, you noticed it was 7:00 PM. How long were you out? You also noticed the stream of texts and calls you had received. Five from Jacob, six from Edward, and one from Bella. Hers was the most recent of all of them. You muted the chats with Jacob and Edward, it was for the best right now. Opening Bella’s you decided to respond, you were sure she’d share your well being with the two of them.

Bells: Hey are you ok? Everyone’s worried : (

Your heart clenched. You couldn't help but feel bad but at the moment, you weren't sure how anyone would react. You were anxious and mentally drained.

(Y/n): I’m safe. That’s all that matters

Bells: That’s not what I asked. I asked are you doing okay?

(Y/n): Physically? Yes. Emotionally? No. I’ve got some things to figure out.

Bells: Did something happen with Edward last night? Did Jacob do something?

(Y/n): They didn’t do anything, it’s all my fault. </3

You clicked your phone screen closed before flopping back on your bed, listening as the crickets chirped outside. You turn your head as you hear your door open. Your mom walks in with a plate. A sandwich made with the bread from last night and a side of chips. She smiles sympathetically, setting the plate down on your bedside table before sitting on the side of your bed.

“Is this about the ritual?” she asks softly. You nod weakly. She nods before flopping down on her back laying next to you. She turns her head to look at you. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really but…I know I should…” you try to gather your thoughts, trying to figure out what to say. “Jacob was there. We were really happy together. But then the other guy, Edward, he was there too. In the dream They were both hugging me.” you say, deciding to omit the part where you made out with both of them. “What’s wrong with me? Am I broken?” your voice breaks, hot tears springing from your eyes. Your mom sits up, pulling you into her arms.

“Honey, no. You’re not broken at all.” she rubs your back gently. It reminds you of the same way she used to when you’d run into her and dad’s room after a nightmare. It’s comforting and calms you down just a bit. “It’s happened before. However, it’s usually only like that when the other two are occults which is why you rarely see it. Witches of the past often had two or more soulmates. Your great grandmother did.” you tense up, looking up at her.

“That’s the thing, mom. They hate each other. Jacob he’s…he’s a shape-shifter. Edward is a vampire. I think it’s just best if I don’t speak to either of them.” you sigh, sniffling as you rub at your drippy nose.

“I didn’t raise you to be a quitter (Y/n) (L/n). It’ll be difficult, sure. Down right frustrating. But are you really going to deny yourself your truest, deepest love connection?” her tone and face was stern, something you rarely saw from her. You knew she was right, but were you strong enough? “You’re a big girl and I can’t make that choice for you. But what I will say is give yourself time to think before making such a rash decision to just give up. Who knows, they might surprise you! Plus, you’re going to have to see them Friday regardless.” she was right, as she usually was. You didn’t wanna give up. And even if you did, you’d still have to speak to them Friday. The big game was coming up and you sure they’d be coming over with their fathers. You liked them both and it was clear after that dream, that they both harbored that affection for you too. You just needed time to process everything.

“Thanks, mom.” you say softly. She gives your hand a quick squeeze before standing up and heading for the door.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Eat your sandwich, you’re gonna need it!” your stomach grumbles at the mention of food. With all your moping, you haven't eaten all day. Your stomach had been far too upset to hold anything down but water. Grabbing the sandwich, you head to your desk before pulling out your good stationery. You owed them at least some explanation for your absence.

On Tuesday, you placed a charm on your window and balcony door. You knew with your absence, that one of them would come to check on you and you were right. Many times throughout the night, you heard the windows and balcony door rattling, trying to convince yourself it was the wind.

On Wednesday, you made them each a basket with a letter. In Jacob’s was the loaf of bread your mom wanted you to send, a container of cookies that she had made that day, and a letter explaining that you were okay and that you just needed space. In Edward’s was the CD you burned for him, a copy of Napoleon Dynamite, and a similar letter. You casted a spell so they’d deliver themselves. You slept throughout the night with no disturbance but when you woke up Thursday, on your balcony was a polaroid of Jacob and the gang at La Push with ‘wish you were here!’ written on the bottom and a single rose with an ‘E’ charm attached to it. It was bittersweet. 

You felt guilty for not communicating to them directly and it was starting to hurt you too. You missed both of them equally but you felt more prepared to have the chat with them tomorrow. It was hard to focus on much of anything but you had gone over all the scenarios. The good, the bad, the ugly. There wasn’t much else you could do besides focus on you. You had been neglecting your self care and yourself, running yourself ragged. 

Examining yourself in the bathroom mirror, you nearly winced at your reflection. You had deep sunken bags under your eyes, your acne was coming back, and the skin of your body was as dry as sandpaper. Reaching into the mirror, you grabbed a turmeric face mask applying it over your face. The tub was almost completely filled up, the scent of vanilla and the bubbles luring you in. You step into the tub, letting out a sigh. Tomorrow may be fast approaching but that didn’t mean you couldn’t attempt to enjoy today.

Jacob’s temper had gotten worse since he presented, he was aware of that. But the fact that (Y/n), his (Y/n) was doing bad and he wasn’t allowed to be there for her? That made him furious. He could respect that she needed her time and space, but he couldn’t help but feel that that bloodsucker had something to do with it. Before he left to patrol the outer borders of Washington for his pack for a week, she was fine. And suddenly, after he’s back without being able to keep watch on her, she’s suddenly struggling? With misfortune, the Cullens were almost always behind it. He watched it happen with Bella and he had sat back then. But this time there was no chance in hell that he was letting Edward get away with this. 

Even though they had updated the Pact to where they could cross the borders into each other’s territory, a part of him still always had a distrust. He had come to respect Carlisle and his wife, they were kind individuals. He had even come to tolerate Alice, Jasper, Emmett and sometimes Rosalie. But Edward? He was nothing but trouble. 

As he grew closer to the house, he could see Edward was already there. Stomping onto the porch he grabbed him by his shirt, snarling in his face.

“What did you do to her?!” he screamed, Edward pushed him over, shoving him back. His eyes were a fiery gold, filled with anger. 

“I should be the one asking you that. I was with her Monday and suddenly you and the rest of the mutts came back and she won’t speak to me.” he spit out. His tone was much calmer but it still held the same venom his own did. Jacob went to swing his fist but as he did, Edward dodged it, throwing him to the ground.

“I told you to stay away from her!” he growled out, using his leg to sweep Edward. He fell down the stairs and Jacob used that to his advantage, jumping on top of him. All he could see was red, his breathing was out of control. Edward smirked up at him.

“She’s not talking to you either, is she?” Jacob froze his fist above his face.

“Stay out of my fucking head.” he seethed through gritted teeth. Edward pushed him off, Dusting himself off and Jacob was quick to follow standing up.

“I don’t need to be in your head to know you somehow managed to screw things up.” he stated matter of factly. Jacob punched him in the jaw, sending him flying back but Edward landed on his feet, returning the punch with speed. Jacob glared at him angrily, spitting blood out the side of his mouth.

“She’s too good for you.” Edward’s face faltered for a moment as he stood still before beginning to laugh again.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me…you imprinted on her? Pathetic .” Before Jacob could pounce on him, a hand was on his chest. Looking down he saw Bella, holding the two of them back.

“She’s not talking to anyone right now, not even me. And it very well might stay that way if you two keep arguing out here like children!” The silence that took over was tense. As stubborn as Jacob was, he knew Bella was right.  As he had learned many times before, fighting with Edward would lead to nothing but a lot more conflict with everyone and with how (Y/n) was currently doing, that isn’t what anyone needed right now. He huffed out, taking a few steps back.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Edward asked, his expression full of concern. Bella shook her head.

“She didn’t go into detail but she said it’s all her fault. I have an idea of what it might be from Alice but it’s not my place to say. But what I can say is that if you two don’t get your act together, neither of you might see her again.” The two of them looked at each other, an unspoken conversation happening. They had to at least be civil for the time being.

“(Y/n)'s dad invited both our dads to the game tomorrow. She said see you Friday in my letter. Yours?” Edward asked. Jacob nodded.

“Mine too. She must be expecting us then.” he said, putting two and two together. Edward nodded in agreement.

“We need to come to an understanding. If it’s about…where she stands with us, the other one will agree to being in her life platonically only. No dirty tricks, no arguments. I’d be fine with that. I want her happiness above all.” Jacob had to think about it. It wasn’t as simple as just being able to back off. (Y/n)was his imprint. It was painful being away from her for even that week, would he be able to keep his hands off from her forever? Give up the nights where they’d fall asleep in her bed, waking up in each other's arms? ‘I don’t have to worry about that, she’s going to choose me.’

“I love her. Even just being in her presence is enough for me.” he said, choosing to ignore the way Edward rolled his eyes.

“Let’s see if you can stick to that.”

8

[sundrop-writes]

Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

Gar can’t say no to you. But he can’t bring himself to see that as a problem. (aka - Gar is very stressed out about everyone else's problems, so you force him to de-stress in the best way.)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 1,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: spoilers for Titans S1, S2, and S3 if you haven’t seen the show before and want to watch it unspoiled, this is set during S3 when the Titans are staying at Wayne Manor, passing mentions of Gar’s trauma (him being killed during Trigon, him being kidnapped by Cadmus, his parents’ death), dom/sub dynamics - Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘baby boy’, the reader and Gar have an implied pre-established relationship, Gar (kind of) goes into subspace but it’s not explicitly mentioned or described as such, the reader has a vagina, penis in vagina sex, the reader rides Gar, overstimulation - the reader rides Gar through his orgasm and overstimulates him, possibly dubcon - the reader oversimulates Gar when he is not expecting it and he’s in a murky headspace but he does enjoy it and it’s stated in the narrative that he does not want it to stop (hence, the title), finger sucking (Gar sucks on the reader’s finger), unprotected sex, sloppy sex, hopefully that is everything. Just know that this is in line with my usual brand of filth.

A/N: This is one of my favourite Gar smuts that I have written, so I had to re-post it first. One of my favourite smut tropes (kinks?) is riding a guy through his orgasm and overstimulating him - vastly underutilized. And I randomly got thinking about this + Gar this morning, so have this. I missed my green haired boyfriend, so there will definitely be more smut with him coming soon (I am thinking some stuff with virgin!Gar maybe? let me know what you think of that idea lmao).

....

Gar was someone who had experienced a lot of hardship in his life. 

His parents dying when he was still so young, him suddenly having a set of metahuman powers that he wasn’t prepared for - powers that he was kind of terrified of and definitely didn’t know how to use responsibly. Him literally being murdered by his dearest friends while they were under mind control, and then being brought back again and having to heal from the mental and physical injuries. The severe medical torture and resulting mental shitshow that Cadmus had put him through. 

It was a lot to have to push down during everyday life, having to pretend he was okay - having to put up a front for everyone else when they simply assumed that he was. 

But there were a lot of times when he could forget about all that. Times when he wasn’t actively suppressing his trauma because you made things okay - because you distracted him in the absolute best ways. Times when he thought that literally everything in life was just perfect. And most of those times were when you were on top of him like this. 

He would consider this nothing short of literal heaven. 

The feeling of your sweet, wet cunt clenching down on him as he laid flat on his back, splayed out on one of the many luxurious beds of Wayne Manor. 

(“You need to relax.” You had told him, taking him by the hand and dragging him into the random bedroom. “You’re worrying way too much about everyone else right now. Someone needs to take care of you.”) 

And while he had not at all put up any physical resistance against you, pliant under your touch as usual, that conversation had originally started out as him protesting against your thesis. He had told you that: no, he was worrying just the right amount about everyone else, that they needed him. But his protests had quickly died down when you shoved him back onto the bed and drowned out his voice with your tongue. 

Gar always had a very hard time saying no to you. 

He wasn’t sure if it was selfishly motivated. From the outside looking in, others probably say that it was. Considering that he was a guy, and you were just as horny as him - he never felt the need to say no to you. Especially considering the fact that he had never felt a greater sensation than that of your wet pussy surrounding his cock. 

And usually with the promise of that dangling over his head, you had gotten him to do a great number of compromising things, both minuscule and potentially life changing. Or perhaps it was because you were the sweetest little vixen that had captured his heart. And any time you batted your eyes and asked him to do something in that sweet voice, you might as well have been casting a spell on him. 

And he knew that it wasn’t just a weak spot he had for you. 

You had worked that magic on Conner and Jason before. Gar was actively working under the firm belief that if you simply approached Jason and asked him to stop killing people nicely please, then he would take off the Red Hood mask and surrender himself politely, no questions asked. 

But all of that was the farthest thing from his mind as you bounced on his cock. 

With your hands sitting on his shoulders, your nails digging into his bare skin. His shirt had been lost at some point while his pants were shucked off around his ankles and caught up against his shoes. But he could barely even focus on his lack of nakedness or your own because he was obsessively caught in the feeling of your cunt warmly hugging around his hard cock. 

Though he was slightly wishing that your shirt was off, but far too pussy drunk to simply reach out and lift it off so he could enjoy the sway of your tits in his face without obstruction. 

You were a perfect wet vice around him, leaking wetness down over his heavy balls and smearing it up over his stomach as you bounced. And all Gar could really do was take a gentle hold on your hips and appreciate the ride. His face was absolutely knit with pleasure in a way that made you giggle with delight, watching his almost caveman-like expression of tight brows and a heavy set jaw as he stared at the place where you were joined with utterly intense concentration. 

You had never seen a prettier man in all your days - those big brown eyes entirely rapt with pleasure, soft lips and a glisten of sweat across his skin that made you even more intent on ruining him. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby boy?” Your voice laced around the words, breathy yet so commanding, so strong, holding the power over him as you always did. 

It was enough to send a rumble through Gar’s chest, a sharp echo of pleasure from your words. 

That was the sacred question. 

Of course, Gar never wanted it to end. Ultimately, he just wanted to stay like this forever - buried deep in your sweet cunt, feeling that intense warmth hugging him, having your perfect scent surrounding him and having every worry in the world pushed out of his brain. 

But he did feel all the telltale signs - that almost painful tingle in his balls and that deep twisting in his gut that told him it was going to he over too soon. He was going to cum for you, just like he always did. 

All he could gather in response was a choked off grunt. But you knew his language well enough by now - you knew him when he was swimming this deep in pleasure, and you certainly didn’t need words. You knew it just by the expression on his face, the growing look of tight-knit desperation, the gentle whimpers that began to escape his lips. 

Something so enticing that it caused you to run a thumb along his bottom lip, finding the curve of his mouth to be all too pretty when he let out those sweet little sounds. Naturally, he drew the digit inside and began sucking on it, enjoying the tang of your natural skin oils, something that only pushed him closer to the edge. 

Feeling that that sharp whine punched out of his chest, vibrating around your finger only caused you to double down. You bucked your hips harder, riding him with an almost vengeful kick, as though you were trying to push his entire body down through the bed. It was something that caused a loud, pornographic wet smacking to echo through the room - a blatant signal to anyone walking by that the two of you were going at it like rabbits. 

If Gar had any sense left between his ears, he would have been thankful for it being such a large house. He would have been thankful for some sense of privacy. 

Instead, he was totally brainless as the feeling of orgasm overtook his body. His mouth went wide around your thumb as he released a litany of almost pathetic moans and whimpers and he arched back into the bed, a pure exorcism of pleasure overtaking him. He mindlessly endowed his animal strength onto you - digging his fingers into your hips and forcing you down onto his cock for a few moments, forcing you to still on top of him as he shot his load of hot cum inside of you. 

This caused a few hot moans from your lips, nothing but pure enjoyment as you watched the radical pleasure rock him. 

It was such an intense orgasm that it made his muscles seize and jump, it easily made his balls ache. By the time his cock had spurted those last bits of cum into you, he thought that his dick would willfully go limp and fall out of you, being just as tired as he was as he collapsed back onto the bed. But he was still semi-hard and throbbing inside your pussy, tingling with overstimulation as you unconsciously clenched around him. 

You leaned down to his panting lips, sealing him in a hot kiss. 

Gar let out a strangled shriek when you began bouncing your hips again. 

A shockwave of hot pin needles flew up his body from the point where you were joined, erratic hot overstimulation overtaking him. His cock forcefully filled with blood again as you clenched down on him harder. Clearly, you were gaining some thrill out of feeling the extra slickness of his cum sliding between the two of you, out of hearing just how wet your thrusts were now. 

Gar let out another sharp whine and moved his very limp hands back to your hips. In his mind, it was an attempt to shove you off him, to take a fucking breath. But his fingers only dug into your flesh harder and pulled you down onto his cock with force when he felt a particular hot streak of pleasure flare up through his gut. It was almost against his will - but your pussy was just too fucking good. 

“Too much.” He moaned out weakly, a hot puff against your lips, the first thing he had said in an hour of more. “‘s too much.” 

You found the way he slurred the words to be entirely adorable - as though he was quite literally drunk on your pussy. The wide gape of his mouth, trying to draw in breath as you continued to punch it out of him, and the tears pricking the edges of his eyes only made it more beautiful. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, slightly breathless yourself. 

You continued to slam your hips down on his cock, over and over again planting yourself in that filthy puddle of your mixed cum. 

It was a traitorous question. 

It was too much of a strain on his body, but it was everything he wanted. He was breathless and brainless and nothing else in the world existed except for your wet cunt squeezing his aching cock, your natural smell filling the world around him, the hot press of your tits against his chest. 

The word ‘stop’ didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary. 

He let out a strained choking sound, and found himself unconsciously bucking up into you - he found himself enjoying the painful sting that ran through him. Tears leaked from his eyes, and when you reached up to wipe them away, you gave him one last thoughtful sentiment. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whispered quietly against his cheek. 

But it seemed that you already knew what his answer would be. 

Gar put a hand on your back, cradling you close, shoving his face in your neck and breathing in that perfect aroma of your sweat. 

Stop? 

You ground your hips down into him, creating nothing but a filthy wet ache. He choked on a moan and found himself holding you still once again so he could fuck up into you harder. 

“Please.” He moaned weakly against your skin. “Please, don’t stop.”

[milaisreading]

Hiii good morning i was reading ur manager series and am totally in love with it specially the scenes where rin and reo decide to use their captain and rich-boy powers (the plushie one is my absolute fav) and i was wondering if i could request shidou and sae/kaiser/ness reaction to yns plushie or keychain? More than anyone else i wanna know shidous reaction🤭

Author : I didn't expect that story to be so popular since I came up with it at like 3 am☠️ but I hope you like this and thank you for the request🩷

Warnings ⚠️: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Shidou:

"Blue Lock is really that big now?" Loki commented as him and a few of his teammates were in the changing room of PXG, looking at a phone.

"Yeah! My sister wanted to buy one of the plushies and the site crashed like 3 times."

"Geez. Blue Lock 11 have boy group level fame." One chuckled as Shidou walked in, confused with the commotion.

"What are you guys looking at?" The blonde asked as he walked up closer, with the teammate showing him his screen.

"The guys who beat you, Blue Lock have now merch. Every girl or guy I know won't stop talking about them. My sister ordered like a collection of these plush toys."

"Haha my brother ordered all the keychains." Shidou was amused at the revelation, taking a mental note to tease Rin about it later.

"My sister has been complaining how hard it was to get the (Y/n) plush toy version. Every time there was a restock it got like sold out in a matter of minutes."

Now that was something Shidou had great interest in. The manager of Blue Lock has plushies? Shidou wanted to laugh.

'Hah! This is gold! But why would anyone buy that? A smaller version of (Y/n)? The whole replica? Small and soft...' Shidou's thoughts wandered off and he felt giddiness the more he imagined the item.

"Shidou, where are you going? We still need to train?" Loki called out as the taller walked out.

"I need to make fun of Rin for that plush toy of his!"

"Not again." Loki sighed and facepalmed.

The same night Shidou went on the Blue Lock website, where he found the said plush toy of the girl, and with absolutely no 2nd thought bought it.

'So adorable~' The boy grinned.

'I think 10 of these are a reasonable number.'

Sae:

Once in a while Sae would travel back to Japan to visit Blue Lock and his brother. Although he spent most of the time around (Y/n), trying to get her to join Madrid as their manager. The idea itself would be shut down by not only (Y/n), but also by Rin, who by now wouldn't leave the girl's side if he was around. This visit was a little bit different though. Since it was holiday season, Ego and Anri has sent everyone home and Sae was bummed a little. His brother wouldn't tell him anything relating to (Y/n).

'Brat.' Sae would roll his eyes at Rin's glares and him telling the older how his manager was none of Sae's business. The two weeks in Japan went by pretty quickly and it was Sae's time to go back. His mom, dad and Rin would drive him to the airport.

"It's in Rin's room?" Sae asked as his mom nodded her head.

"Yeah, I left your scarf there on accident, can you please get it? We need to hurry up to the airport and Rin is already outside."

Sae sighed and nodded his head, walking to the familiar door.

Opening it, Sae immediately spotted his red scarf and went to take it, only to freeze up when he noticed something on Rin's bed. On it was a smaller and softer version of (Y/n) staring up at him. Sae stood there for a moment and then quickly walked to the bed, picking the item up.

Sae stared at the soft toy in awe, astonished with how detailed it was.

'She looks adorable... nearly as adorable as the real (Y/n)? Where did Rin even find this? And why us he so reckless with it...' Sae sighed, patting (Y/n)'s head over and over.

"Sae! Hurry up!"

He turned to the door as his mother called for him. Sae shook his head and put the plush toy in his backpack and then took his scarf.

"Since you refused to tell me anything, I am taking (Y/n) with me. She is too adorable for Rin, anyways."

The next day, Sae was in his room and hugging the plush toy, enjoying the softness.

'So cute... so soft... I wonder if the real (Y/n) is even better to hug.' Sae's moment of peace was interrupted by his phone ringing.

"Hello." He said, already knowing who it is. He has been ignoring Rin's calls ever since he landed in Madrid.

"You thief! Did you take her?!" Rin yelled, obviously upset that his plushie was missing.

"Yes. She is really soft." Sae taunted.

"You bastard! I will come to Madrid and beat your ass!" Rin threatened.

"Do it and I will tell (Y/n) you had this thing to begin with. Imagine how much easier it will be to get her on my club then." Sae smirked as he got no answer in return and ended the call.

'Mine.' He thought as he hugged the plushie closer to himself.

Kaiser:

"What are you even looking at, Ness?" Kaiser raised his eyebrow as he saw his teammate and close friend smiling down at his phone.

'He looks like a child in a candy store.' Kaiser thought as Ness looked up at him in surprise, before showing him his phone.

"My package arrived today! I can't wait till I pick it up." The boy admitted as Kaiser went over the tracking history.

"From Japan? What did you even get there?"

"Huh? You didn't see it?" Ness wondered, making Kaiser even more confused.

"See what? Stop talking in circles."

"Blue Lock just released new merch and restocks-"

"Ness... please don't tell me you bought merch from THEM?"Kaiser asked in disbelief. As far as he knew, the only person in Blue Lock Ness liked was (Y/n).

'But there is no way they made merch of her. It's always about the players, not managers.' Kaiser thought.

"There was a cute plushie of (Y/n) and her figurine as well as a keychain... I had to get it!" Ness defended with an embarrassed look.

"Hold up... there is merch of her?" Kaiser wondered as Ness nodded his head.

"Yes! The plushie looks so adorable, I can't wait till I hold it." Ness cheered while Kaiser went to look at the item.

"Hmmm..."

A few weeks later...

It was late at night in Japan as (Y/n)'s phone rang. Panicked and still dizzy from her sleep, she took her phone and answered it.

"Helloo?" She slurred out, wondering who it could be.

"What a day to be alive, you never told me you had merch!" Kaiser laughed from the other side.

"Kaiser? Do you even know how late it is here? And what about the merch?" (Y/n) asked, a little annoyed but she was too tired to argue.

"It's kinda cute that my little Liebling is a star now. Don't forget about me when your merch sells out." Kaiser laughed.

"Shut up! I want to sleep!" She yelled but Kaiser kept on going and (Y/n) was forced to listen to his talk for another 10 minutes.

Kaiser on the other hand was sitting in his living room as the (Y/n) plushie sat on his lap, getting headpats from time to time.

Ness:

Ness was honestly not expecting to fin anything interesting the evening after a training. It was honestly normal, he showered, ate his dinner and went on his phone, to see what Blue Lock were up to. In all honesty he just wanted to see if there were any pictures or video clips with (Y/n) in them. But instead of that, he found an announcement on new merch.

"Huh? Plushies, keychains and figurines?" Ness mumbled and opened the link, boredly scrolling down the site as all of them were from players.

"Boring-" Ness stopped himself as he saw a familiar shade of (h/c) hair and stopped. Blinking at the items that were displayed, Ness took in the plushie, keychain and figurine that was displayed of (Y/n), all tiny and adorable.

"I need this. I don't even know what I entered this site for again." Ness mumbled as she put the items into the cart.

"You bought it?!" (Y/n) yelled from the other side of the phone. Ness giggled and hugged the plushie of the girl.

"Yeah! You have no idea how soft it is! I have been hugging it ever since it came hours ago." Ness said as the line went quiet for a moment.

"...and what do you think? How is the merch of me?" (Y/n) asked nervously as Ness looked down lovingly at her plushie replica.

"It's cute! Very soft and I love how well detailed it is. It's nearly as cute as you."

"A-ah?! You think so?! I... I need to go now and talk with Ego-san over something! See you, Ness!"

"See ya~" Ness said and ended the call, then looked down at the plushie again.

"So cute..." He smiled, giving a small kiss to the toy's forehead.