#he's standing there while they're down to him

[symphonyofmars]

There was something I wanted to add as i saw people arguing back and forth (and this might be against my better judgement): but I believe the first post I saw referenced Bell Hooks, and then I later saw someone else say that the use of her quote was bullshit. The quote had to do with being compassionate towards men, and then the person responding said that wasn't what the quote is about (iirc, it's been a few days and my sense of time is not great) but having read The Will to Change (which I believe the quote was taken from), that's exactly what it was about.

[adding a read more because this became much longer than I intended it to be]

The book discusses how the patriarchy hurts not just women, but ALSO men, and how it's so much harder to rehabilitate men from it because: they think they stand something to gain from cramming themselves into the box they're supposed to fit into, and, many of them just have no idea that their life could even be different. That they could be an artist if they want to, they could dance if they want to, they could go into childcare if they want to or grow their hair long or write poetry or paint their nails-- that there are no "boy colors" and "girl colors", that there are no "men's jobs" and "women's jobs", that they could just do what they want because it makes them happy. They don't even know that being happy is more important than filling their sociological niche that someone else has carved out for them. It reminds me when I learned the story of Siddhartha Gautama when I was little, and that he had no idea that poverty, sickness, and suffering even existed because he had never been outside the palace walls and, not that I'm saying every man can achieve nirvana in an afternoon (or even in a lifetime), sometimes someone who knows what's outside the walls has to let you know that there is even something beyond the walls.

Which is also not to say that women need to be doing all the work for men. I spent ten years trying to disabuse a man of the "things he has to do to be manly" and it ended with him breaking up with me and joining a trad christian cult.

Some men (like my ex) are just extremely resistant to change because change is terrifying, but they also have this sense of Sunk Cost Fallacy, where if they were doing this thing the whole time and it's not working, then what were they wasting their time on?? (I feel like you see this with a lot of evangelical/trad Christians as well, where the idea that they might have been wrong is so scary that they double down on their beliefs in the hope that it will work out for them.)

But, there are also men like a book reviewer I was watching a few days ago (whose name I don't know), who admitted that he really had no idea women were catcalled as much as we say we are, until he was grocery shopping with his girlfriend and she went into the next aisle (literally like five feet away, just with the wall of food between them) and he heard a man catcall her. Like, the second she walked away from him and she no longer obviously belonged to him (in the mind of horrible men like her catcaller) she was suddenly fair game to be harassed in public. And he said that he never didn't believe his girlfriend, but to witness something makes it so much more real. To use my "wall" metaphor another way: he and so many men are still inside the palace, experiencing what they think is the same life others experience, while women are outside of the walls, struggling. The incident of hearing his girlfriend (who is an adult women and who shouldn't need him constantly around as protection from horrible men) being treated like an object while she's by herself was like someone grabbing his hand and pulling him outside the walls without even asking if he wanted to go, showing him a truth that can only be experienced by someone who is not him.

Back to Bell Hooks because there was something I wanted to add: yes she does say that it is at least partly the job of feminists to help to deprogram men. Men, as a group, have been brainwashed to think that they have to be The Provider, The Protector, The Leader, and not all of them are good at providing, protecting, or leading. Maybe some of them want to do the things I mentioned before like care for others (in the way we would describe as "maternal" and attribute to women), maybe they want to create art or do crafts or other things not considered "traditionally masculine", and that's not even taking into account that the "traditional idea" of a man is to be constantly wanting sex, and that men could never be sexually assaulted because they're in a constant state of wanting to fuck (obviously this is a lie; anyone can be sexually assaulted, and not everyone wants to fuck). You can't just take a dog who was taught only to fight and put it in a house of children, it won't know how to act around them and might attack them: it needs to be rehabilitated first.

And Bell Hooks does note, that the problem with trying to deprogram men comes from how they're raised. I'd like to submit this video about men and empathy, since I've already typed a bunch:

When I was reading The Will To Change and I got up to the part about her dad, I realized how different my dad is. And, because you don't get to choose your parents, I consider myself very lucky that my dad has always been unconditional in his love. For a moment I almost found this strange because his older brother was the "golden child" and his younger brother was "the baby", so he should have been somewhat neglected because they always got more affection from their parents, but I think it's because he was the favorite of his four girl cousins who would take him everywhere and fight over him (even now, he's the one they're excited to see and they shittalk the other two lol). So, I have a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he didn't end up shitty like his brothers, is because when he was a child he had four girls who were showing him what unconditional love was like and that you don't need to meet the criteria of your niche in order to receive love.

Which, I have to thank them for, because it's so much easier not having to decide whether or not I want to talk to my own parents as an adult because they've gone Fox News Insane. Both my parents will actually ask me about things they don't understand - like trans rights, queer rights in general, voting (I made them a paper of who/what to vote for for the election since the props always need extra research), geopolitical things - and I've even caught my dad making fun of conspiracy theorists and the thinking that trans women are ruining sports (he's a big sports guy and he mostly watches women's bball because he likes that they actually have to play as a team in a team sport). Life is a lot easier when both parents have empathy and don't have to be convinced to care about others.

And I think that's why the OG post I saw quoted Bell Hooks, because the "we need to rehabilitate men otherwise we can't have the feminist future we want" contingent of feminism never really took off; there was one-- I believe they were originally called "Meninists" as in "men who are feminists" and I've seen a picture of them from a parade in the 70s, but it died out because they were fighting such an uphill battle trying to convince other men to join. So now, we have more women who are independent and who have de-centered men from their lives, but also a bunch of men who were never rehabbed and who don't know their life doesn't need to revolve around "being a man." Being a man means being strong, it means being able to provide, it means being attractive; and the Tates and Fresh and Fits and all the other scam artists of the world sell them this on steroids: buy my book and you WILL be hot, you WILL be a millionaire, you WILL have women who want to fuck you...

Never mind that those guys are probably on actual steroids, they only have that money from scamming other men, and many of them have been found to hire escorts (which, there's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, but there's a difference between selling the idea that you'll be so charismatic that women will throw themselves at you and having to hire a sex worker because your personality is so bad that no one wants to go near you.)

They're selling a false ideal to men who don't even know it's false in the first place.

But going back to Ms Hooks again: she did talk a great deal about how we need to raise our boys (as a society). She talks about how the whole thing of telling a nine-year old "Take care of your mother" is an insane notion, because he's nine and he can't do anything, and she's an adult woman who is actually the caretaker; and about how boy babies are treated so differently even to the point of "baby boys should not cry as much as baby girls". Like, the gender requirements are there before they can even talk, no wonder they're so damaged and hard to convince of anything later in life.

Reads with Rachel and her husband, Carlos, had two really good discussions about masculinity; one about real masculinity vs performed masculinity as they compared two books about being a man:

As Rachel says after Carlos complained about being made fun of for cleaning his nails after working on his car ("I work an office job and I have cleanliness standards"): "It's not enough for you to know how to work on a car, you also have to be dirty in order to be the manliest man."

The other is in the context of talking about how Patrick Rothfuss isn't the feminist he thinks he is because he still wants the women around him to perform femininity so he can perform masculinity and feel like "a big strong man" before going into a general discussion about masculinity (from about 9:01 to 53:55):

Together they ask a really good question (pardon me if I don't remember it verbatim): "Why does it take someone acting in a particular role for you to feel like a man?" And it's easier for Carlos to be able to deal with that question, because he started deconstructing from the patriarchy when he was 25 (he said he's 32 at the time of that video). It's something he and Rachel have done together as they learn and grow and live their lives together, him deconstructing from the patriarchy and her deconstructing from her fundamentalist christian upbringing (which is basically just The Patriarchy, but More, and +God.) And they've done this because they came to realize their upbringing was wrong, and they didn't want to raise their sons to be saddled with the same baggage that they both grew up with that made their lives worse.

So yeah, I forgot where I was going with this anymore since finding the one video took so long. The majority of men are resistant to changing their mind and it's because they were raised to be unemotional and not care about others but, sometimes, if maybe you've been friends with someone a while and take the time to explain something in a way they understand, you can change someone's mind. Story time:

I was a mod for a streamer for about a month and a half roundabouts January to February of this year (I ended up leaving because trying to get a bunch of randos to behave was stressful - esp since the streamer's rules weren't clear - and I ended up not really liking the streamer as a person). One person in the discord said that they hated the phrase "It's not my job to educate you" because it was condescending. I defended it as people being tired of having to explain shit to people just because they're black or trans or a woman but a bunch of people latched on and started saying anti-left things, which was weird because the streamer and his discord were supposed to be leftist (it's part of why I left, he was just weirdly antagonistic towards leftist ideals despite calling himself a leftist and he was attracting some *ahem* weird types). Anyway, a day goes by and a trans person comes in and says something like "I don't think I should have to explain my existence to random people on the street just because I decided to go outside," and a bunch of people descended on them, telling them they were wrong, and I'm pretty sure they ended up leaving the server.

[Like, the original group-agreed-upon argument came down to "I shouldn't have to google things or look up books to read or do my own work to discover anything new about the world, I should be able to demand of a random person's time and energy, even though I'm not giving off the vibe of someone who is actually ready to listen" and when I pointed out that people know when someone is and is not ready to listen, the streamer himself asked me how I knew and I was like like "do you think that I, a woman in her 30s, is somehow incapable of being able to discern intent?" Most women and queer folk KNOW who's a bad actor before they open their mouth, the idea that any of us wouldn't was just wildly ignorant.]

I complained to my friend (who I had met in the server) that the streamer was wrong and everyone's reaction was bullshit and, at first, he agreed with the position that a trans person should be prepared to debate people on their own rights if they deign to step outside their home. I countered with "You know, [streamer] doesn't it get it because he's a straight white man. He's the default. Other straight white men already know what it's like to be a straight white man so they have no questions for him. But to be trans or otherwise queer or a woman or any other person outside of a white man, is to have people question whether you have a right to be where you are. Trans women I've known have told me that they've had complete randos ask them if they've had bottom surgery and just-- how is that their business? People act so invasive towards non-straight non-white non-men in a way that no one does towards straight white men that they literally just can't understand what it's like to have your existence questioned just because you went outside. Asking a stranger if they've had bottom surgery is LITERALLY sexual harassment, and no one would ever walk up to someone like [streamer] and ask him like, "How big is your dick?" or something of a similar nature because that's just insane behavior, but when it's a trans person or a woman, it's suddenly okay? Like why do you think that is?" And my comparison to how white men are treated vs everyone else, and my stance that asking a stranger if they've had bottom surgery is sexual harassment (it is, no one needs to know about your genitalia) got through to him and he agreed with me. Awhile later I even heard him saying something similar to someone else about a situation that was similar and taking up the stance that I had given him.

So like... yeah, I probably wouldn't do that for a random man on the internet who is determined to hate me, but I can do it for a friend who I know might be receptive to what I have to say to him, and help steer him away from opinions that could end up dragging him down the wrong path.

As this post's OP said: "it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it!"

It's up to you if you want to try effecting the people around you, but if they've dug in their heels that much then it's okay if you want to leave and not speak to them again. Just know that, it's only so hard for you because they were brainwashed since birth to think the way they think and that's REALLY hard to undo. And that's not a pass, that's just the reason why this is so fucking hard for the rest of us (when they're adults and harder to reason with because they're so invested) and also, the reason why mothers of sons need to maybe rethink how they're raising them. Like, don't raise them with "boy colors" and "girl colors" raise them with "colors." Dance isn't something a girl does, it's something a body does. Women don't cook because cooking is a woman's thing, people cook because they want to eat. And... I'll be honest, I've known a few women who are just so mean to their husbands in a "why can't you be a real man?" way, and I just DON'T see how that makes him want to be a better person, but then again, those woman probably need as much deprogramming as their husbands do since they just keep reinforcing something that (she may not even be aware) is hurting them both.

So yeah, sorry if this was a bit rambling, but seeing people fight back and forth for the past week and seeing people take up some really... Mad Max-ian, like, ultra-anarcho-capitalist positions of "we shouldn't help any man at all, fuck em!" was really weird when it was being said by people who purport themselves as being feminists when feminist ethics is supposed to be more compassionate. There were just a handful of reactions I saw that seemed very "pull yourself up out of the patriarchy by your bootstraps" but like... what if their boots don't have bootstraps? What if they don't even have shoes on? What if they don't even know they could have shoes?

posts about the alt-right pipeline being compassionate towards young men while radical leftists shun and shame them are not fucking saying "the men are becoming violent because feminists are too mean!" and if that is your takeaway you need to get off tumblr until you've better honed your critical thinking skills.

those posts are talking about how effective the language and approach you take in your activism can be. this is literally cult deprogramming 101. if someone is being taken in by a violent or dangerous group, that violent or dangerous group is usually offering them compassion and solace while working hard to convince them everyone else in the world is their enemy. you are under no obligation to coddle or act compassionate toward these men and their violent ideologies, but if you have the means to try, it is something that you can do to make a tangible difference.

radicalized people are often only one loving friend or family member or external voice away from being de-radicalized. of course that is not always the case, but it very often is. a lot of y'all rightfully understand that you do not carry the burden of being that voice, but a lot of y'all also have a lot of internalized ideas about morals and punitive justice and have simply written off these people as deserving of only the worst and not worth saving.

ten years ago, my grandmother was a fox news watching republican who voted red in every election and very well could have fallen down the qanon rabbit hole if not for me and her daughter challenging her compassionately, walking her through hypotheticals that validated her feelings & proving why they were false, & being patient with her despite our extreme division in political ideology. it was frustrating fucking work! but i decided i wanted to do it, because i could see the horizon and i could see me making a difference!

"misogynists have been saying feminists are too mean for years, get new material" that is not the fucking POINT. the point is that you, feminist, can be the compassionate voice that guides your brother, your father, your cousin, your grandfather away from fucking becoming or staying a nazi. you can show them compassion and companionship. you can be the woman they think of when their alt-right bros try to convince them that women are the enemy. and you can choose to crystallize that image of yourself so wholly in their mind's eye as worth protecting that they may very well choose to reject those harmful ideas.

it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it! don't you 'firebomb a walmart' people all love taking change into your own hands? where the fuck is that energy right now, huh?

[menagerofmischief]

Spill Your Guts (OP81)

summary: after revealing what she listens to in order to wind down, y/n ends up with an invite from her favorite podcast host to appear in the next episode

driver!reader x podcast host!oscar piastri -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, reader teasing lando (they're besties), kissing, fluff, bad flirting, oscar being bullied by hattie

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this one is written + smau, with a bit of different formatting for the podcast episode. this one was fun to write, I hope y'all will like it and show it some love.

-> TAKE 1

“Hi,” you said, flashing a smile to the camera. “I’m Y/n L/n!”

“And I’m Lando Norris,” your teammate, sitting in a chair next to you in the video set up, said while waving his hand. “And we’re McTeammates!”

“Lando,” you said, shaking your head as you turned to look at him. “We talked about this. We drive for McLaren, we’re teammates but,” you lifted a finger up, pointing it at him. “We’re not, McTeammates.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you. “Whatever you say, McGrumpy!”

“That’s it!” You said, pushing your chair away from the table and standing up. “I’m taking away your Gray’s Anatomy privileges.”

“You can’t do that, you bitch!”

“Try me, you little termite!”

-> TAKE 2

“Hi,” you smiled, lifting your hand up to wave at the camera. “I’m Y/n L/n.”

“Why do you always start?” Lando complained. “Like why isn’t my name first, I’ve been here longer.”

“Because I’m the lead in the championship and your nickname is last lap Lando.”

“That’s so fucking mean, you muppet!” He sobbed, wiping the corner of his eye to add to the dramatic effect. “What’s wrong with you - you know I’m sensitive about that.”

You sighed, putting your hand on his back and rubbing along his spine in a comforting manner. “I’m sorry, Lando, I didn’t mean it.” You said, putting your fingers into his locks and ruffling his hair. “We can do your name first, and you can start the video. How does that sound?”

He looked up at you, eyes shining with excitement, the previous dramatics instantly gone as he started nodding his head. “Deal! No take backsies!”

-> TAKE 3

“Hi!” Lando said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he waved at the same with a big grin. “I’m Lando Norris.”

“And I’m Y/n L/n!” You said, smiling at the came and praying this take was going to work out because if you had to start this video over one more time you were going to strangle your teammate.

“Today we’re answering your questions. which you had the chance to send us on Instagram and we put them in this bowl.” Lando explained, holding up the said bowl full of folded papers.

You pushed your hand into the bowl, running your fingers over the papers before grabbing one and pulling it out. You unfolded the paper, looking down at the printed words. “What is Lando afraid of?” You read the question, laughing a little. “Fish!”

“Hey!” He interrupted, snatching the paper from your hands. “It’s my question I’m supposed to answer!” He looked down at the paper, humming while nodding his head. “I’m also afraid of the dark.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a comment, wanting badly to tease him about saying he was afraid of the dark. 

Satisfied with his reply, Lando threw the paper away and dug into the bowl for the next one. He unfolded the paper, clearing his throat dramatically before reading out the question. “What does Y/n L/n listen to, to wind down?” His eyes snapped up, looking into yours. “Uh, I know this one!”

“I don’t care,” you replied, snatching the paper from his hands. “It’s my question.” You told him, returning his previous words back to him, which made him pout. “To wind down, especially after a race I listen to a podcast hosted by some Aussie guy named Oscar. The podcast is called Spill Your Guts, it has no specific theme and the host is a funny guy. Plus, he sounds cute.”

“I could have answered that!” Lando said, poking your arm with his finger. “I knew your answer word for word.”

“I’m sure you did Lando,” you said, nodding your head at him. “Now why don’t you pull out the next question?”

It’s a few days later, the video already long gone from your mind, when you walk into your driver’s room after a practice and flop directly onto the couch as soon as your helmet and balaclava are off, letting your body mold into the cushions after the exhausting practice.

You grab your phone and open it, eyes focusing on the new massage you had gotten while you were in the car. Your expression is confused as your eyes swipe over the number, not recognizing whose it is.

You enter the chat and after a brief moment of hesitation, you reply.

Your hands are shaking as you try your best to shove your phone into your pocket before jumping up, a scream tearing from your throat before you’re running to Lando’s driver’s room.

“Lando!” You yell, grabbing the door handle and pushing his doors open without knocking. He stops dead in his tracks and turns around to face you.

Lando holds both hands up, his mouth full of a chocolate doughnut that is half sticking out. He quickly grabs the part that’s sticking out and pulls it out of his mouth, swallowing the rest as fast as he can. “Don’t tell my trainer, please!”

Your eyes slide over to the half a doughnut in his hands and you shake your head at him. “I don’t care about that,” you tell him. “You’ll never believe what happened!”

“Max Verstappen got a 100 points penalty and you secured the championship?” He offers, deciding to finish his doughnut while he has a chance. 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible,” you tell him. “But it would be great! What was I saying? Oh, yes!” You clap your hand before putting them on his shoulders and shaking him. “Oscar Piastri invited me to star in an episode?”

“Who?” He asks, his voice muffled by the treat in his mouth.

“The Spill Your Guts, guy!”

“You got invited to Spill Your Guts!?” Lando asks, swallowing the doughnut before looking at you with a smile. “You’re going to be on an episode of your favorite podcast?”

“Yes!” You laughed, smiling at him.

“How?”

You grabbed Lando’s hand and moved him over to the couch, flopping down into a comfortable position, you patted the spot next to you, signaling for your teammate to sit down. Once he did, you cracked your fingers and locked your eyes with his. “Okay, so…” and then started explaining.

OSCAR: Hello everyone! Welcome to tonight's episode of Spill Your Guts. Tonight’s guest is definitely the most famous person I’ve ever had sitting opposite of me if you don’t count my sister, with her 120k TikTok followers. Anyways, it’s my pleasure to welcome Y/n L/n to the studio!

Y/N: Hi, Oscar! And hello to everyone who’s listening in tonight. The pleasure is all mine really - I’m honestly so excited to be here. Just ask Lando, I’m pretty sure he’s gone deaf from all my screaming.

OSCAR: [laugh] Okay Y/n, settle in and fasten your seat-belt, we’re starting.

Y/N: I’m ready!

OSCAR: I’m sure you’ve been asked this many times but what’s it like being a Formula 1 driver?

Y/N: Thrilling. Every race week is a new adventure and the sport is really competitive so you’re constantly trying to prove yourself and set new records. There’s really no time to slow down.

OSCAR: I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit exhausting. Now, if you were a driver what would you be?

Y/N: Maybe a doctor [sigh] I’ve always been interested in medicine but racing is my life. But yeah, if I wasn’t a racer I’d probably want to pursue a career in medicine.

OSCAR: [hum] I can see it. You’d look good in scrubs. [both laugh] What’s your favorite Grand Prix?

Y/N: Two words Oscar - Las Vegas!

OSCAR: That’s a night race, yeah? Seem fun. Are you ready for some rapid fire questions now?

Y/N: Go right ahead, pretty boy.

OSCAR: [nervous laugh] Okay then, ready steady go! Wet or dry?

Y/N: Wet.

OSCAR: Monza or Monaco?

Y/N: Monza!

OSCAR: Blondes or brunettes?

Y/N: Brunettes [laugh] Australian ones preferably.

OSCAR: [very loud laugh] How cold are the ice baths?

Y/N: Very fucking cold.

OSCAR: Vettel or Alonso?

Y/N: None of them - Rosberg. Catch the reference. 

OSCAR: I did! Catch the reference, that’s it. I watched that video to come up with questions.

Y/N: Oh, is the next question bums of boobs then? Because bums for sure.

OSCAR: That was not a question but thank you for answering it either way. Let me take a quick peek at the chat. boy4norizz wants to know who’s your favorite F1 teammate?

Y/N: [loud laugh] Oh God, Lando I’m gonna kill you! So, the only answer I can give you is Lando, because he’s the only teammate I’ve had in F1. But if I had another, it would definitely be them.

OSCAR: Cats or dogs?

Y/N: I like both but if I had to pick - dogs. I’ve got a dog actually, a goldie. His name’s Apollo.

OSCAR: I love goldies!

Y/N: You should come meet mine sometimes. 

OSCAR: I might take you up on that. Now, last I checked you are the current lead in the championship, right? How does that feel?

Y/N: Still feels a bit unreal, if I’m being honest. Obviously every driver dreams about winning the WDC, and obviously only half of the season is done so I don’t want to be getting ahead of myself with the talk, but to actually be in the lead and have such a big chance to win it feels amazing.

OSCAR: I hope you do win it.

Y/N: Oh! [small pause] Does that mean you’ll be cheering on me?

OSCAR: Absolutely! You mentioned half of the season being done so that means summer break is approaching right?

Y/N: Yes, summer break starts after the next race.

OSCAR: Got any plans for the break?

Y/N: Depends. Are you free?

[few moments of silence and then both start laughing]

OSCAR: [catching his breath] Alright, thank you everyone for tuning in - and thank you to Y/n, for joining us. Enjoy the rest of your night.

liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren, hattiepiastri and 12,864 more

oscarpiastri: Another thank you to F1 star, Y/n L/n for joining us in tonight's episode of Spill Your Guts. And thank you for bringing the merch! Go stream the episode if you missed it!

tagged: yourusername

comments:

user01: call me crazy but they have so much chemistry

user423: you're not crazy girl, I literally felt like I was intruding userr: same! and her inviting him to meet her dog!! if they don't date I'll kms

ynsmclaren2: 'do you have plans' 'depends, are you free' WELCOME BACK SEBASTIAN VETTEL

user3: no because I literally screamed when I heard that userss: preach sister. they sound so good together I need them to date

yourusername: it was an amazing experience, 10/10 host would come back

oscarpiastri: dibs on getting the first interview when you win your championship? yoursername: deal user33: oh they're down bad

hattiepiastri: you're embarrassing me, you have her number use it

oscarpiastri: I'm telling mom you're mean to me hattiepiastri: do it no balls, she likes me more user454: I live for hattie bullying oscar

You look into the mirror one more time, raising your hands up to smooth down your hair for God knows what time that night. You push yourself forward, practically leaning over the desk so your face is directly in front of the mirror and run your finger over the edge of your bottom lip, making sure corners of your lipstick aren’t smudged. 

“Stop that!” Lando says, picking up a makeup brush from the bed and throwing it at you. It’s times like these that make you wonder why you agreed to go on vacation with him. “You look great! I’m sure the pastry boy’s jaw is gonna dislocate from how hard it’s going to drop when he sees you.”

“That’s … definitely a mental image.” You reply, picking up the brush from the floor and throwing it back at him. “I’m nervous,” you admit, picking on the bits of skin next to your nails.

Lando gets up from the bed and approaches you. He smiles and lifts a hand up to pat your shoulder before deciding to pull in for a quick hug. “There’s no need to be.You’re a catch and if he screws us it’s his loss.”

You bite your lip, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you think it over. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on, I’m gonna be late.”

After pushing Lando out of your room you grab your purse and exit the room. The elevator ride down to the lobby feels like a small eternity, your stomach tied in knots by the time you finally step out in the lobby.

You make your way outside, a lump in your throat as you look around the busy street. Your eyes finally meet his and it’s like time slows down. He’s leaning against his car, dressed casually in pants and a T-Shirt, and holding a small bouquet of flowers.

You smile as you approach him and he mirrors your smile with his own. “These are for you,” he says, offering you the bouquet. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you reply, taking the flowers from him, your fingers brushing against his. “And you don’t look bad yourself.”

He laughs in response, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. He grabs the car door handle and opens the door, gesturing at it with his free arm. “Shall we?”

You can help but laugh, nodding your head you get into the car and he closes the door, going around the car and sitting in the driver's seat. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling back into the seat and pulling on your seat-belt.

“A little restaurant I used to go to with my parents and sisters when I was younger,” he tells you, starting the car. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

f1wagupdates: new WAG in the paddock?

current championship lead and famous mclaren driver Y/n L/n, was spotted having an intimate dinner with Oscar Piastri, podcast host of Spill Your Guts, which L/n starred on and mentioned it being her favorite podcast.

after the episode she appeared in fans noted the flirting between L/n and Piastri. are the two finally together?

comments:

ynsmclaren2: I'm very happy for them but why don't we give them some privacy instead of photographing them going out to dinner

user332: hell yeah! my otp is real

user441: they look so cute together, I ship it

oscarpiastri: the term WAG stands for wives and girlfriends and is used for partners of athletes mostly because they are straight men dating women. the appropriate term to use in this situation is HAB because that stands for husbands and boyfriends and is therefore the same things as a WAG but for the other gender

oscarpiastri: if you're gonna gossip at least do it right user77: he ate I fear user667: f1wagsupdates you've been real quiet since this comment

oscarpiastri: #HABandproud

user11: please I love him user334: mclaren's media team is gonna have a field day user102: protect him from pr training at all costs

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“Stop biting your nails, it’s disgusting” Hattie said, slapping Oscar’s hand away from his mouth.

Oscar tore his attention off from the screen to glare at his sister before returning it to the screen once more. This was it, Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

You and Max were tied in the points and this was not only the final race of the season but also the race that determined who would win the championship. Of course he was biting his nails, he was nervous.

“And to think mom said you’d never get a girlfriend sitting in a studio and hosting a podcast.” Hattie said, bringing a glass of water up to her lips and drinking from it.

“Why are you even here?” Oscar asked his sister.

“Your girlfriend invited me,” Hattie replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “She likes me more than you.”

Oscar was about to reply but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a gasp as he completely focused on what was playing out. He felt Hattie grab his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Verstappen is attempting a rather risky overtake on L/n, can she defend?” He heard the voice of the commentator ring out through the speakers. The whole crowd seemed to silence down as they watched the battle for first place, for the championship.

“Last lap, they can both see the checkered flag but who will cross it first?” Oscar held his breath. “Verstappen going wide … but L/n leaves no space! She moves fast, she moves fast and SHE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE!”

Oscar winced as Hattie screamed into his ear, both of them hugging each other before running down with the rest of the team to greet you when you got out of the car.

You pulled yourself out from the car, your heart practically in your throat, vision blurry with tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. You pulled your helmet and balaclava off, each searching the crows until they landed on Oscar who was smiling at you.

Without as much as a second thought you ran up to him, throwing your arms around him and kissing him. He kissed you back, full of passion, and his arms stroked your back.

When you finally pulled away he had the biggest smile on his face, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek. “So, about that championship win interview?”

You laughed, leaning your cheek into his hand. “It’s a date.”

tag list:

p1 @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff

p2 @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacamdridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog

p3 @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte

p4 @annimausi @kodeelynn @schniti-is-in-the-house @cinnvmonrolls @cmleitora

[sugawhaaa]

SAN X READER

⚝₊ ⊹˚Scented feelings⚝₊ ⊹˚

Warnings:: mentions of SA and harassment, suggestive at the end

Genre:: friends to lovers

Pairing:: gym bro!San x fem!reader

A/N:: I've been cooking this up for a long time so I am PRAYINNN to the gods above this does well 🙏

San was a somewhat new friend but the two of you clicked like magic and nothing was too embarrassing to admit between the two of you. You met at the gym when you first started working out frequently and he gave you some tips. One thing led to another and now you work out together multiple times a week. He's always so encouraging, helpful and understanding.

If you explain to him that you're having kind of a rough day or not feeling well he won't try to push you like he normally does and he will respect the fact you want to keep it chill. All in all he is the best gym bro you could've asked for.

Today you came in a bit earlier than usual and started warming up with your regular stretches and light weight exercise to get your blood moving. As you did that you noticed two guys looking at you quite frequently and occasionally talking to each other. You chose to ignore them and listen to some music until San arrived. It wasn't too long after that you noticed San come in through the door with his bag and massive water bottle in hand. He smiled when he locked eyes with you and came over to you.

“You got here early today,” San smiles as he looks down slightly to meet your height.

“Yeah my schedule was clear and I just felt like coming by early,” you shrug and San nods. The two of you then get to work, following your usual routine. However you noticed the men from earlier were getting bolder and were much less obvious than before. You sigh softly as you go back to lifting some weights and Sans brows furrow. He hadn't noticed the men yet so he decided to ask what had been bothering you.

“You seem…frustrated?” San says as he comes closer to you, talking softer than usual.

“Yeah it's just those guys over there. They've been looking at me since I got here,” you tilt your head over to where the men were standing and talking. Sans brows furrow again as he looks at them.

“Want me to talk to them?” He offers but you shake your head.

“Nah I don't want to make a scene,” you set the weights down again and stretch out your arms above your head. San watches you carefully as you stretch before looking back at the men. He seemed to be more conscious of them than you were.

“I'm gonna go talk to them,” he said as he started to storm over to them. You put your hand over his chest.

“Don't, they're not worth it. Let's just keep going,” you smile at him and he sighs.

“Alright, but if they keep annoying you I'll talk to them. Formally,” he smiles innocently, too innocently. You continued working out and ignored the men and they seemed to stop staring at you…finally. However once you finished your workout San gave you a fist bump and I little sit hug while patting your shoulder. “You did good today,” he smiles, his eyes momentarily invisible, and you headed over to the girls change room. Upon approaching the door you were interrupted by the two guys from earlier. One blocked the door, it wasn't very deliberate but it was obvious, while the other stood more to the side talking to you.

“Could I get your number?” He asked straight up and you blush, not because you felt butterflies in your tummy like he probably thought, but more because you were so confused and embarrassed.

“Oh I uhm,” you shake your head and chuckle awkwardly. “I'm not interested,” you smile, still wanting to he polite because what if they really did have good intentions? It was doubtful but still. When you refused the man's face contorted with anger and what was this other emotion you could see in his eyes? You couldn't put your finger on it before he started getting mad.

“Oh come on just give me a chance baby,” he started getting closer to you and your body froze up. You weren't quite sure what to do in this situation; the man was much bigger and taller than you and you didn't want to cause a scene but you needed to find a way to get out of this situation.

“What's going on here?” San steps up next to you and puts an arm around you, smiling warmly to the man.

“Just friendly conversation, you know what I mean,” the man chuckled and San arched a brow at him, not very amused by his excuse.

“I see, well me and my girlfriend have some plans for the rest of the day so we'll be off then,” San pats your shoulder before kissing the top of your head. You felt your heart skip about a thousand beats.

The way his body pressed against yours, every inch of his muscles pressed against yours, including his arm muscles that were quite literally the size of your head and the kiss was so gentle and…sincere?

“Haha, have a good day you two,” The man chuckles awkwardly and backs up as the two of you turn to leave. San brings his hand down to your hand, interlocking your fingers, as he picks up your bags and leaves the gym. As you walked down the sidewalk you glanced back at the gym then at San.

“You can let go now,” you say as you look up at him, his cap hat shading in his eyes.

“We gotta sell the act or they may make a scene,” he leans down to whisper to you and your heart skips again. He was so close to you, so close to the point you could feel his body heat radiating onto you, and it got you excited. You thought you just thought San was you know a good looking guy, no romantic feelings, you just appreciate his beauty but after that insanity back there? The way he whispered to you made you freeze up to the point your jaw clenched to hold in all the things you were feeling.

San turned the corner, dragging your frozen presence along, and let go of your head. “They're way out of sight now, we're good to go,” he pats your back and you blush softly with a smile.

“Y-Yeah, we're good,”

“I'll take you back to my place so you can shower, in peace this time,” he laughs softly. “But in all seriousness I had to hold myself back from clocking those guys. No woman should have to deal with disrespect as much as they do these days,” he huffs as he crosses his arms, walking steadily with you. “Like God forbid a woman tries to get fit or take a shower,” he sighs while shaking his head, looking like a disappointed father. “Do you deal with that behavior often?”

“Uhm…not overly,” you shrug and he nods.

“If you ever find yourself in danger call me okay? I couldn't think of a better use for these muscles other than to clock a bastard bothering you,” he says as he pretends to box the air. You chuckle softly but nod.

“Thanks San, I'll call you,” a brief moment of silence fell upon the two of you when you realized you weren't sure where you were going, you were just following San's lead. “Where are we headed?” You ask as you trot along beside you.

“My place, so you can shower in peace,” he chuckles and you find yourself blushing. You had been at his house a few times before but showering in someone else's house feels like the next step in a friendship. When you get to his place you take your gym bag to the bathroom and San shows you how to use his shower just in case you didn't know. “This is temperature obviously and on the shower head there are four settings, the further you go to the right the higher the pressure goes and stuff,” he shows you before setting the showerhead back on its little perch. “You good?” He gives you a little thumbs up and you nod.

“Yes, thank you Sannie,” you smile and he blushes softly at the nickname.

“Sannie,” he repeats and laughs softly before leaving the bathroom. You sigh softly and begin to undress but just as you start San comes back in. “Sorry, here's a new towel and you can set your clothes on the counter here,” he hands you the towel and takes the old one off the rail. You thank him as he leaves you alone.

You undress and turn on the shower, making sure it's the right temperature before hopping in. You take your shower relatively quickly but as you water down your body you notice his body wash…he wouldn't mind you borrowing just a little bit right? Maybe? What's the worst he could do? Get mad at you for using it but meh he'll get over it. Unless he thinks you're a weirdo or creep for him. But that's way too far, he probably won't even notice unless he's sniffing you which would make him a creep and without thinking any further you grab the pale blue bottle and squirt a little bit of the soap into your hand, since there were no clothes nearby you had to result to just your hands which is fine, but as soon as you squirted out the soap Sans scent filled the room.

Whenever he'd spot you or help you get into good positions he'd get close enough to you that you could smell him and this is exactly what he smelt like…obviously. But it made your heart flutter. The scent was so indescribable. Coconut mixed with vanilla and maybe a hint of that fresh air smell. Oh, it was so good. You lathered the soap over yourself as you watched the suds bubble up before washing off of your body. Before you could even think you were smelling all of his soaps, like a fucking weirdo. But he'd never know so what's the harm? His shampoo was overwhelmingly strong. It had a very fruity smell, like a deep cherry or strawberry. He wouldn't mind if you borrowed it right? Either way you used just a little bit before getting out and drying yourself off.

The towel was nice and warm and very freshly scented. His laundry detergent was also very pleasantly scented, smelt like fresh air, and filled your head with images of clouds in a blue sky. You finished drying off and threw on your dry clothes before brushing down your damp hair. You put everything back the way you had found it and went to go find San.

You found him out in the living room on his couch and he turned to look at you. "Hey," he smiles as he looks you up and down very quickly. "Have a nice shower?" He asks to distract himself from your body.

"Very nice," you laugh softly before sitting next to him. When you sat down he got a whiff of his bodywash. He was surprised, the shock showing on his face for a split second, but he didn't mention it.

"So...are you gonna stick around or carry on with your schedule?" San asked very light-heartedly, he wouldn't be offended if you wanted to leave.

"I'll stay for a bit but I need to run some errands today," you say as you check your phone and San nods. The two of you hang out for a bit before you continue on with your day. That evening you get home and realize you left your bag at San's place. Your hairbrush, deodorant, pads, chapstick, and much more were in there. You decided to text him about it and he instantly found it in the bathroom.

You• would it be okay if I swing by after dinner to get it?

⛰️• ofc, I'll be here 👍

You• thank you 😭

After texting him you began to cook dinner before, of course, eating it. You then went down to San's apartment again and you couldn't help but feel excited to see him again. Even though it had only been a few hours you always craved to be near him...in a friendly way of course. When you came by he had your bag ready for you by the door and you wanted to ask if you could hang out for a bit but...you couldn't.

"I think everything's in there," San says as he hands it to you. You take the bag and smile, thanking him, but San could see you were thinking about something. "Y/N, you okay? You seem...distracted," he leans against the doorframe and you feel your heart stop at your face heating up.

"W-Well there was a complication with some of the pipes in my apartment and we were told to leave but I haven't found anywhere I can crash for the night," you make up a lie to stay at his place and he looks surprised.

"Oh well you can stay here for as long as you need. It gets lonely here by myself and my cat," he smiles, his dimples showing and you look at him surprised.

"You have a cat?" You chuckle softly and San laughs. He takes you into his apartment again and goes to his bedroom, encouraging you to follow. He then picks up a big long haired white cat.

"This is Muffin," he holds the cat up in his arms and encourages you to pet her. She's extremely fluffy and doesn't seem to mind being pet, she kinda just sits there. San also shows you his spare room. "There's not a lot here, not even a bed, so you might wanna sleep on the couch instead,"

"Thank you so much for letting me stay over," you smile at him, feeling a tinge of guilt but it was buried down by your excitement to spend the night with him. San shrugs.

"No problem, you hungry?" He pushes himself off the doorframe and walks out to the kitchen. You follow after him, Muffin following you as well, to the kitchen.

"Not overly, ate before getting here,"

"Right," San nods but makes you have a snack with him anyway. He sticks on a movie to entertain you but you end up talking to each other the whole time, the movie now out of question. The two of you got to talk on a deeper level than usual, things like relationship struggles and internal battles you've fought growing up. San always looked up at you so sincerely. His eyes were filled with sincerity and interest, he didn't just hear your words he listened to them, a trait many men fail to hinder. But something about his gaze so focused on you made you feel...excited. You felt like you were gonna flutter away at any given moment.

The two of you then go quiet, staring into each other's eyes, San then clears his throat. "Would you like a blanket?" He offers you a blanket and throws one on for himself. You snuggle up into the blankets and are overtaken with his scent again. You go back to watching the movie and then...you feel a sex scene approaching. Your body tenses as the girl on screen seduces the man and you chuckle softly but San remains focused on the show.

Eventually the two characters get down and dirty and you for some reason feel the need to turn away. Just a second ago you had so much to talk about but now...

"What a nice...ceiling you have," you chuckle and San laughs.

"If it's too tense for you we can skip this scene," San tilts his head at you but his words made your mind flicker for a moment. It was different from him saying "we can skip this scene" he said "if it's too tense," you thought of how to respond.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

"Why don't we just pause it?" You suggest and San nods with a little shrug before pausing the movie mid-moan. You turned your body to look at him and he did the same, slightly man-spreading as he lifted a leg on the couch and held his arms open on the head of the couch. That's when you noticed the tent in his pants. You were excited at the sight but disappointed in the fact you weren't the cause of his arousal.

"Do you...have a boyfriend?" He asks softly and you look at him shocked. "Or girlfriend," he chuckles, breaking the ice a little. "I don't judge," he confirms and you think for a moment.

"N-No, I'm single," you smile. "But you surely must have someone in your sights," you giggle and San smirks slightly, chuckling under his breath.

"You could say that," he tilts his head up before looking you up and down. "What about pets? Got any furry or scaly friends at home?" He smiles light heartedly.

"I do actually. I have a fish and a cat, kinda ironic isn't it?" You laugh softly and San smirks.

"So where are they staying tonight?"

You freeze at his words.

"W-What do you mean?" You laugh but you knew you weren't getting through to him. Your face starts to turn red as you realized you've been caught lying.

"Well you have to stay here tonight because your apartment is having "complications" right? So, where are your pets?"

"They're at my...they didn't have to..." you try to make an excuse but your mind goes blank as you become flustered. San then leans forward.

"I don't mind you staying the night but if you wanted to spend time with me you could've just asked baby,"

To be continued...

[simonriley09]

Virgin!Johnny who cries when he cums and separately Experienced!Johnny who takes reader's first time really gently and is constantly making sure they're okay and reassuring them PLUS thorough aftercare ❤️

(Also how dare you post these things during NNN 😭😭) (ily)

RAHHH ILYT. 💕💕Hehehehhee i'm gonna post a lot more smut on NNN 😏😏😏

Johnny gets so flustered when women touch his arm or hand so when YOU DARE to sit on his lap and grind down? He's fucking whimpering. His legs are shaking as he quickly tries to figure out how to stop you so he doesn't embarrass himself.

"W-wait!" He says, his voice cracking in high pitch as he lets out a pathetic whine. Just then you get a very. good. idea. you grab a ball gag, rope, leash and a collar from your bed cabinet, putting the ball gag on him, tying his hands behind his back and putting the collar on his neck. You put the leash on the collar and sit back down on his lap, tugging on it so he's face to face with you. "Who's a good boy?~" You ask him, looking down at him with those long lashes and hooded eyelids. He just whines through the ball gag and bucks his hips up into you. Without hesitation you pull his thick, veiny cock out, standing tall and proud as it throbs. Your dainty hand wraps around it, making him arch and throw his head back as he lets out a loud pathetic groan, his toes curling in his boots. You slowly start teasing the head, just with small strokes, teasing him under he's a sobbing mess and his cock leaking pre-cum uncontrollably. After what feels like forever for him (which was just 5 minutes) you finally start stroking his entire shaft, his balls are THROBBING at this point. Your hand strokes his shaft quickly, your free hand still tugging on his leash which makes him shiver and his legs shake harder as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. "Y' wanna cum, baby?" You coo at him while he nods eagerly, his hands curling into fists behind his back. "Then go on, mutt. Cum for me." Right after you said that he came, throwing his head back as his eyes roll back into his skull, his balls drawing up tight and his load going all over his gear and your fist.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

everytime i read this series i feel like im entering the battlefield 🚬😮‍💨my annotations below hehe ⬇️

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

ur writing has such PERSONALITY in it, i swear to god when i read this in beta, i was so in awe

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

this parallels perfectly to the first chapter where topper called rafe when reader was leaving, so not only is this paragraph giving us an at-point breakdown, but it's referring evidence that topper would slip and tell rafe

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

their lives are so intertwined that reader doesn't know who to turn to when she needs independence 😭 oh curse rafe and his big dick

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

this specific paragraph i wanted to highlight because i thought it was so descriptive and imaginative, but simplistic in a way that didn't feel like it was purple prose.

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

the last line EATS BITCH IT EATS

 “You should sit down.”

oh suck a dick

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

in love to hate omg

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

THIS IS SO COLD BUT IT SHOWED HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO WELL, HOW INTERTWINED THEY ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

i would crashout

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

hm.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

they're so toxic and dynamic and i love them

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

that stopped me cold i had to write something in my diary

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.  "Yeah? Get in line."

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I'M LISTENING TO BAD OMENS BY 5SOS AND IT'S AT THE BEATS AND WHILE I READ THIS, IT FITTED PERFECTLY OHMYGOD

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

i wanted to highlight this specific paragraph because i adore the writing, something about it made me feel every single atom of the scene

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”“And what?” you interrupted.“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”“You’re not coming in."He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

HE DIDN'T EXPECT THAT SHIT NO NO

“Yeah, I got someone.”

that's right baby tell em

💌 — ugh, something about this part has been so dynamic, in the way it's constructed, the way it flows so naturally, the way the dialogues are so emotionally-charged but bounces off one another seamlessly. it was like i was watching a perfectly-curated film, where the dialogues were performed by seasoned actors. i love love their arguments. i love how intense it always gets, how they have this push-pull against each other, this hate-love, this line they can't even comprehend nor define. and i love how you written it so beautifully, that you communicate the intensity and depth of this relationship but aggression, tension, and hurt.

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.��� His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[peppermintquartz]

A potentially (even more) angsty prompt:

A couple month after the breakup (and Buck moping around), the 118 is called to a crashed Harbor helicopter.

Or alternatively, Buck is not on shift and Chim calls Buck that Tommy is in the hospital via a helicopter crash (the rest of the 118 rescued him). A la Chim's Henren matchmaking.

Whatever level of injury you wish for either is good!

(for the purposes of this ficlet, their breakup is NOT the 8x06 version, just one where Tommy is like "we're moving too fast, I need some time" and they agree to give it a pause, and it still sucks but they're not exes)

---

"So... Have you two patched up yet?" Eddie broaches the subject cautiously. It's a fifty-fifty chance that Buck will be willing to share or snap his head off.

"I asked him out for a drink," Buck says, eyes on his book (Slow Productivity, which seems kinda strange for a guy working as a firefighter). "He said he'll take a raincheck." He sounds emotionless, which means he's sort of upset but not overly so.

Which makes sense, since Tommy and Buck did have a Not-A-Date brunch to catch up two weeks ago. Eddie was there, too, desperate wishing he had an excuse not to be, so that the two yearning idiots would just get back together.

Eddie's about to say more when the alarm goes and Bobby hustles everyone onto their engines. Curiously, Bobby sits in the back, telling Hen to take his usual seat.

"What do we got, Cap?" Chimney asks, snapping his gum. It's a new habit - the man is stressed about a second child. The sirens scream to life and they're off.

Bobby puts a hand on Buck's shoulder. "Airlift gone wrong. A chopper went down while delivering a heart to First Presbyterian."

Eddie sees the younger man go still. Buck won't ask, so Eddie bites the bullet. "It's Tommy?"

Before he answers, Bobby tightens his grip on Buck. "It's Tommy."

--

The good news is that the chopper hadn't gained much altitude when it crashed. The better news is that its cargo, a heart ready for transplant, is still intact, so it's quickly rushed off to the hospital in an ambulance.

The bad news is, it was Tommy piloting.

The worst news is, he needs blood. A lot of blood. Hen and Chimney are packing the wounds and stabilizing what they can and Bobby is calling Dispatch to relay messages for a transfusion.

"Blood type, B-pos, no known allergies," Buck rattles off to Bobby and Hen, helping to lift Tommy, collared and strapped on a backboard, onto the gurney. His jaw is tight and his hands are steady. "His emergency contact is..."

He falters as Tommy is wheeled into the ambulance.

Eddie shoves him. "Get in there." When Buck turns to look at him, eyes wide, Eddie pushes him again. "Get in there. You're his emergency contact as far as we know, so go. Tommy won't survive your delay."

That spurs Buck into moving with alacrity. The ambulance pulls out, sirens screaming, and Eddie feels his heart pounding in his mouth.

Then he feels Bobby standing beside him. "They haven't patched up?"

"They're idiots," Eddie says with heartfelt vehemence.

Bobby sighs.

--

Eddie goes to the hospital three hours later, after the shift. Buck is still in his uniform, so Eddie passes him his duffel and shoos him off to change.

"What news?" Eddie asks when Buck joins him again.

"They've stopped the bleeding," Buck says, closing his eyes. "Now they need to work on the impalement."

Eddie sits next to his best friend. He doesn't speak.

"I'm done," Buck says suddenly, sounding like he's gargled gravel. "I'm done. When he wakes up, I'm gonna... I don't know what I'm gonna do, but I am not doing this stupid 'pause button' shit any longer."

Oh thank God. Eddie can stop feeling like he's a child caught between divorced parents.

Then, because he is and always has been a realist, he asks, "What if he doesn't wanna press the play button?"

Buck looks a little sick. He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "Then we want different things out of this. And I'd rather it hurt all at once now than later." His eyes look shockingly blue against the paleness of his face.

Eddie pats his friend's knee, and leans back to grab some shut-eye.

--

Eddie takes on the bulk of Buck-sitting duties for the next four days, spelled by Bobby. (Buck takes time off. No one begrudges it.) Maddie manages to get Buck to go home to shower but she can't make him sleep in his own bed.

Convenient that Tommy crashed just before our off days, Eddie thinks, a little bitchily, the day he comes back after a shift.

Man broke Buck's heart. Eddie figures he's due a little bitchiness.

It takes five false alarms before Tommy is truly awake and alert enough to register Buck and Eddie are there.

The heart rate monitor beeps a little more urgently.

"I'm here, honey," Buck murmurs, taking Tommy's hand immediately and squeezing it. "Relax, okay? Docs and nurses gonna look at you for a bit first."

Tommy blinks, and on his horribly pale and scruffy face is a ghost of a relieved smile. He can't talk, but his mouth forms something that sounds suspiciously like "eh en", or "Evan", and Buck smiles so brightly that he probably powered the machines with its intensity.

Eddie feels the ground under his feet right itself as the doctor and nurses take over. Yeah, that pause button is going away. He sends a message to the group chat.

Hen replies, Bets on when they move in together. $5 min.

[siriuslysmoking]

Villian and Violent

SPOILER WARNING ! SPOILER WARNING ! SPOILER WARNING!

If you haven't watched Outer Banks season 4 part 2, DO NOT I REPEAT DO NOT READ THIS

AN: this fic is strictly for @jlovesjj, I DO NOT write for Rafe <3, she is just a very very sad girl, in light of the recent events, I am trying to provide her with any comfort so she can stop crying. Thank you and good day.

Pairing: Rafe x Reader, bsf!JJ x reader

Warnings: It's sad, angst, death, violence, not edited (She's impatient)

You all look up to the statue that the crown was hopefully in. All you you could barely see due to the sand storm enclosing you all.

"Hey! I'm gonna go up and scope it out!" Rafe shouts over the deafening wind in your ears.

"I'm not leaving it up to him!" JJ shouts back to the group, you can practically feel Rafe rolling his eyes as he grabs your hand. Like hell is he letting you leave his sight.

"No, I'm with you!" Kiara says, joining JJ. You look back and barely see Sarah and John B struggling, She doesn't look okay, so you hear JJ shout to them.

"Hey! John B, you two sit this one out, okay? We'll find the crown..." That's the last you heard as you and Rafe make your way up the hill. Once you make it to the top of the hill, you and Rafe both meet each other's eyes. Then he starts trying to climb up the statue, he doesn't get three feet up, before the wind knocks him back down, You look at him and realise once he stands back up that it wasn't just the wind it was also his hand still bothering him. He holds it close you his chest, looking at you as both Kiara and JJ come racing up the hill.

"Hey! I can't get up there, not with this hand!" He shouts at JJ and Kie. You see them both have a conversation that you can't hear, even with them a few feet away, it's hard to hear yourself think.

"Right now this is our chance! They've taken everything away from us. They're not gonna take this too!" He pulls down his mouth covering so Kiara can hear him better. "I gotta do this, I gotta do this for all of us. I mean, hey, it was my fault to begin with. So, I mean, I should be the one to fix it."

They hug each other and JJ moves over to you and Rafe, getting ready to climb. You step up to him and say, "Hey, you're my best friend, so don't do anything stupid."

He hugs you and speaks, "I'll try."

He lets you go and looks to Rafe, Rafe helps him step up onto the platform, "You got it!"

"Hey! You'll get your cut!" JJ yells, before beginning his climb up. Rafe and you both climb down to stand with Kie and watch JJ as he moves up the statue. You hold Kiara's hand as you watch some of the old loose rocks fall around him. Suddenly he's only hanging on by one hand. You gasp as Kiara shouts his name.

Once he finally gets himself to the large platform you feel as though you can finally take a breath. As you watch JJ you hear a voice. "They have to be up here!"

You all meet each others eyes, Rafe speaks first, "Shit, here they come."

Kie shouts to JJ, trying to get his attention, but he seems confident that he can get the crown in time. "Hey! You stay here. I'll go down and buy us some time."

Kiara nods as you step to go with Rafe, "What? Rafe, are you crazy? They'll kill you!"

"I'm a killer too, I've got nothing to lose." He shouts then looks at you, "You're staying here."

"You can't make me." You yells back firmly. He knows that there is no use in fighting and you're losing time. he makes his way down the hill with you trailing behind him.

Rafe makes you stay back as you approach the group of Mercenaries, he has the luck of the storm not his side, so that they don't see him coming. He goes and cuts the man from behind, as he works with that man you see one heading your way. You're by the man's side so while he looks through the scope of his gun you shove the barrel down and jam the butt of the gun into his jaw. It knocks him down for a second before you step back and he grabs your ankle, tripping you. You stumble as he gets up and he makes his way towards you. Without any weapon, you're out of luck, he's already grabbed his gun, so you make a run for it.

You head into the small village, trying to outrun the guy. You stumble into a deserted house and looks for anything that could be considered a weapon.

"Come out you little bitch!" he shouts, by the door frame of the house, she sees the barrel of the gun and jumps out for the behind the wall and slams a stone to his head. Blood starts flowing from the top of his head, but that only slowed him down and made him more angry. He did happen to drop his gun of the impact, you grab it and slam the butt of the gun to his forehead before you can even think about what you're doing. he falls to the ground with a heavy 'thump', and you finally take a breath. You hang onto the gun, just for safekeeping, as you set a mission to find Rafe. That's when you hear a soft gunshot in the distance, you immediately perk up and try to run to the source, but with this wind and all the walls that carried it, it could be from anywhere. You head down different passageways and alleys and houses.

Once you travel far enough and the storm starts slowing down, you can finally hear something. You think it's Rafe, your worst fear is him being hurt or worse but what you come upon is much worse than anything you can imagine. You can now recognize that the sounds you heard was not in fact Rafe, it was Kie, she was leaning onto JJ's legs, crying, then you realise the small movements of JJ's chest is gone, that he sits there lifeless. You drop the heavy gun and start to tear up, Kiara doesn't even look your way, you don't think she even cares about anything other than JJ in this moment.

You start to feel your knees buckle before strong arms wrap around your middle, You'd try to get them off but you realise you have no more fight left in your body, after the days of being on the run with lack of food and water, it's finally caught up to you, and all it took was seeing your best friends body lifeless on the ground. You move a little, mumbling something about getting off of you and then you hear a whisper, "It's me, It's me."

At the sound of you boyfriends soft you, you finally let yourself fall, letting out a horrendous sound out of the back of your mouth. Rafe lets his back fall down the wall with you in his arms. You both sit the on the stone in each others arms as he rocks you back and forth.

You can't even think, a life without your best friend in it's not a life worth living.

Rafe shushes you, saying soft words into your ears. You don't even notice when the rest of the group stumbles upon you guys, you don't think you even care.

You feel pathetic as Rafe carries you back, he has to set you down to go up a large sand dune, but he doesn't let go of your hand at any point. You sit next to him as he buries a grave for JJ's body, you watch him as he lowers it into the sand, you shake as he slowly covers it back up with sand.

You sit with your back to his front as you sit before the fire. You have cried all your tears, your eyes feel dry and body feels weak, as Rafe supports your body. Your eyes get heavy as Rafe whispers to you, "you'll be alright, I promise."

You don't believe him, you think he's lying, but it was nice to hear anyways.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated

[dark-konohagakure2]

just aizen and baby trapping... can you see the vision... just him being a yan and breeding his squad member bc she keeps going agasint his word, aizen doesnt want her to ingure herself, after all aizen needs her for his plan..

tw: noncon, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, power imbalance, abuse, size difference, humiliation, forced orgasm, sensory manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Aizen is a very calm man, frighteningly so, it would take the most dire of dire circumstances for him to so much as break a sweat, let alone lose his cold composure. Very few things irritate him, although insubordination is one thing he can't stand for, especially if it's continuously being done by the same person over and over again.

Normally Aizen would murder or mentally break anyone who'd dare to defy him, but he can't do that in this special case, this minion of his is required for his grand plan, and losing her would be a minor setback, a slight annoyance even. She's a tiny piece in his vast puzzle, but even the absence of the smallest of pieces will make the picture look incomplete. So instead of murdering or imprisoning her, Aizen has a different way to force her to remain by his side.

Aizen could easily just use his ability to instil feelings of adoration into her, but that would be too easy, not very fun for him. While usually a very serious man, Aizen does desire some recreation from time to time, and he isn't fully immune to desiring pleasures of the flesh, and if he can use those pleasures to ensure his plan stays on track, then Aizen will gladly indulge himself on her.

Aizen doesn't need to worry about getting her alone, he knows Las Noches inside and out, so if he needs to find her, he'll do so very quickly, whether she's preoccupied or not. Aizen's expression is unreadable, he's smiling like usual, but it doesn't reach his eyes, it never does reach those cold, calculating eyes of his. His touch is deceptively gentle yet firm as he holds her in place, his words as vague as usual.

"Why are you so insistent on defying me, hmm? Are you perhaps upset about not having enough responsibilities in my ranks? Well don't worry, I'll give you the most important responsibility of them all..."

His vagueness doesn't last very long when his intentions become very clear, as he pulls down her underwear, keeping her in place with his superior strength and size. Aizen is only doing this to remind her of his authority and to give her his 'responsibilities', but that doesn't mean he can't have a bit of fun with it, cruelly mocking her for being such a silly girl in thinking she can defy him without consequence, his mockery of her not stopping when when he's balls deep in her.

He isn't gentle, but he isn't rutting into her like an untamed beast in heat, he's not a simpleton who thinks with the head between his legs, instead he'll move at a pace that's somehow both too slow and too fast at the same time, the tip of his long cock brutally poking against her cervix with each thrust as he prepares to bestow her with his progeny.

Somebody walking in on them is a very real possibility, in fact she won't even know if someone is able to see them or is watching them, because Aizen will manipulate her perception to make it impossible for her to see anybody but him, so she has no clue if they're alone or surrounded by spectators. He's feeling especially cruel, so Aizen will tell her how good a show she's putting on for his Espada, even if they're completely alone.

There is one word that can be used to perfectly encapsulate Aizen's entire being: manipulation. Aizen can manipulate people with both his words and his Kyoka Suigetsu. In this case, Aizen will use his Kanzen Saimin to control not her mind, but her bodies reactions. He won't tell her that he's controlling her body of course, letting her believe that she's cumming uncontrollably on his cock all on her own.

"My my, cumming again are we? Your mouth might lie, but your body certainly doesn't... This is precisely why you're more suited for breeding than fighting."

Aizen will walk away from this lovely little encounter feeling very accomplished. Not only did he put a wayward puzzle piece back into it's proper place, but he ensured that it stays there permanenty. He doesn't really care about having a child, children aren't very interesting for him to interact with, but she certainly needs a baby in her fertile little womb, it'll do wonders to keep her compliant.

[diy-dynamite]

Television Relations

》 2nd part of Television Influence

He sees a familiar face. || Mr. Crawling x GN!Reader

Warnings: spoilers for one of the endings, the reader is an assassin, some mentions of murder

Took inspiration from the members of Homicipher Unofficial (which u should definitely join, btw) (idk if they're ok with shoutouts so I'll just edit it later if they are)

********

SINCE the first day you introduced him to television, you left it on for him every day. It wouldn't do him any harm since he didn't seem to have any eyes, but he could still see bullshit from a mile away.

On one of the days, you checked on him while you tied down your target before he woke up to extract the information your client needed, and all of a sudden, Mr. Crawling blurted out a loud "No!"

You raised your brows in confusion, only to see him smack his hand on the screen lightly. You squinted your eyes, taking a closer look at the screen, and barked out a laugh when you realised he was watching the scene in Titanic where Rose was on a piece of debris salvaged from the ship, while Jack was in the water.

You figured he shouted in frustration. Your laugh awoke your target, though, so you quickly hit him with the blunt of your crowbar on a special part of the head to make him fall asleep again.

That was a normal Sunday for you.

You went back home with another successful mission, jingling your keys and coming home to an expectant Mr. Crawling, happily greeting you once again.

What you didn't expect, however, was that he led you to the living room instead of the kitchen. Normally, he'd take you there to give you a washed, uncut fruit like an apple or grapes, peeking over the table with a smile to see if you liked it. That was his way of trying to feed you since you fed him.

No, that didn't happen. Instead, he took you to the TV and sat you down there.

"Look, look," he pointed at the TV, the language rolling off his ink black tongue. "Friend."

You glanced to the TV and flinched—why the hell were they showing Sadako? That rom-com show was supposed to be on at this time.

"Er, did you switch channels, Mr. Crawling?" You muttered. He didn't respond as you tried to switch off the TV, but it wouldn't work.

"What is?" He pointed at your remote. You pressed at the off button again, but it didn't work. "Uhh, controls thing," you said, pointing at the TV.

"Why?"

"I kill," you heard her say, and you flinched, looking up at the screen, its static getting worse by the second. I never knew they spoke the same language.

Wait.

She's leaving the screen.

You grabbed your crowbar, ready to swing, but Mr. Crawling grabbed your weapon. You yanked it away, the adrenaline causing your hesitance to go away, but you paused once Mr. Crawling leapt to stand—sit—between you and Sadako.

"Friend! Friend!" he chirped, his voice clearly expressing frantic wobbles.

You lowered your weapon.

"Friend," he said again. He turned around and placed his hands on Sadako's head, then shoved her back in.

"No kill," he said. "Me love they."

"You love they?"

"Love they many."

"They love you?"

.

.

.

"Understand. Farewell."

The static behind the TV disappeared, and Sadako only sat in what looked like an empty room or hallway.

You were about to turn off the TV until you saw a tall, white silhouette walk past the screen.

The humanoid man bent down, and your heart nearly exploded at the sight of your old acquaintance, Mr. Silvair.

"Hello!" You exclaimed. The white-haired man smiled. "Hello," he said. "See you again."

He turned his head to Mr. Crawling and waved. "See you again."

Mr. Crawling only stared with his non-existant eyes.

"I bring this one," he pointed at Sadako and pulled her away from the screen.

The TV went black.

"...you're... friends with Sadako."

Mr. Crawling turned around to look at you with a line on his face—the line being his mouth.

You titled your head. "Why upset?"

"They ask. You love me?" He gestured between you and him. He lowered his head, glancing to the side. "You don't say."

You paused before replying, "But I love you. Many."

"But you say to other," he pointed at the black screen. "'Hello'! Fast."

What?

Your confusion was probably obvious since Mr. Crawling continued to explain.

"You don't say when friend ask you love me." His voice only got whinier, and his lips curled downward as he spoke. "You say fast when other came."

"I say hello to friend—" Oh.

He's saying you didn't say anything when Sadako asked if you loved him, and he's also comparing your response with how you spoke to Mr. Silvair.

You paused, and although a knowing smile crept onto your lips, Mr. Crawling's only began to tremble.

That was what made you stop from teasing.

"No, no," you waved your hands at him, dropping the crowbar to kneel in front of him. You took his head in your hands and messed around with his hair, rubbing back and forth. "I love you many! Love you many!"

He perked up, his adorable grin slowly coming back on his face. "Many?"

You nodded. "Many!"

"Kiss," he said.

He even leaned forward, closer to your face.

"Many kiss," he said.

You sighed.

Maybe introducing him to the TV was a bad idea.

********

HOPE U LIKED THIS :3 kinda rushed bc I'm about to sleep again LMAO so mistakes MIGHT be spotted

JOIN HOMICIPHER UNOFFICIAL GUYSSS

[kryannoy]

girl we need more sitetampo content please🙏🙂‍↕️

genre: fluff

warnings: this is absolutely fictional!! i have no idea what sitetampo was like before he appeared in tournaments

a/n: i love how this sitetampo guy suddenly became popular for whatever reason and now everyone's tryna find fanfics of him, including me

It wasn't written in your life to be dating an obsessed gamer.

In school, he was the kid that sits at the back of the class with his head resting on the table. People would think he's taking a nap but no. You saw him and the light flashing his face. He was playing video games on his phone. You weren't sure what game it was but by the looks of it, it seems intense. His fingers smashing on the screen to the point his shoulders were vibrating.

And when he finished the game, his head rose and he'll lean back in his chair, stretching while brushing off his bangs from his face, revealing the red dent on his forehead and some sweat.

You giggled a little but he heard it. He looked at you and you looked away. This gave a bad impression of you. He thinks you're one of those girls that laughs at him for being a certified 'loser'. But it was the opposite, you got giddy not just because of the redness on his forehead or the sweat, it was because he looked damn good when he leaned back to his chair with a sigh of relief.

The next day, he still had his head on the table. Still an intense game you guessed. You tried to get a peek of what game he's playing but it was hard to see it from your seat. You only saw bright colors from the screen.

And again, when he raised his head, his eyes made contact with yours and once again, you looked away.

He's starting to get uncomfortable with you meanwhile you overthink what game he's playing that was so intense for him.

And again, the next day, he played games like usual with that same concerning posture of his. But this time, you brought a napkin with you from home and approached him.

"Hey."

He looked up. His small eyes looked so cute to you even when they're hidden behind his bangs that you feel like you want to brush it away or cut it off because it seemed like it hurt his eyes but frustratingly, he looks so good like this too.

You put the fluffy folded napkin on his table close to the edge, where he usually rests his forehead.

"You're gonna get a dent if you keep sitting like that. Also, don't your shoulders hurt from that posture?"

"If I don't, I'll get caught," he said, talking about hiding himself for playing games in class, but he started to stretch when you mention his shoulders. He decided to ignore you and continue playing when you have nothing left to say.

"What game are you playing?"

"Brawl Stars."

"What's it about?"

He took his sweet time in answering this but his thumbs are smashing the screen before he groaned out as he raised his head again. You saw the word 'defeated' plastered huge on the screen. His look of disappointment on you did not go unnoticed.

"It's like a battle, match, thingy. Shoot other people down and be the last one standing."

"Is it fun?"

"Yeah, I guess."

But his actions were very contradicting to his words right now.

It's been years already since that day, and now he's in his fourth Brawl Stars Tournament. You never thought Brawl Stars was such a serious game to be put in as an eSports competition, not to mention live on TV.

But here you are, in the crowds along with other Crazy Raccoon fans cheering for his team. You can't believe how far he's gone from being a kid who loves to play video games in the back of the class to last year's world champion who once again entered for this year, placing 2nd after HMBLE. His team may didn't get the winning streak however, you're honestly still proud of him no matter what.

Back in your shared apartment, he already took a shower and landed in your also shared queen-sized bed next to you. His eyes wants to sleep but his mind and obsession wants to play games again. But of course, desires are stronger than needs. He chose his phone and propped himself on the bed with his leg crossed on the other. You watch him tap on the skull icon and flipped his phone in landscape. Your head found its way nuzzled in the joint of his neck and shoulder. His blond hair tickling your face a little, you can smell his shampoo.

"Is it fun?" You ask.

"Yeah." Ever since you're dating him, he has become more expressive towards you. He's not scared of showing his emotions, of how honestly excited he is to talk about his favorite games.

While he's on his first match, you quietly installed the same game on your phone and also flipped your phone to landscape. The familiar sound of the game company made him spin his head to your phone screen. He couldn't hold back his laughter seeing you finally picking up on the game he's been playing for years. He never asked you to play it with him because he doesn't want to trouble you but deep inside, he wanted that to happen; you and him on the same team.

He watches you instead, doing the tutorial until finally you can add friends so he tells you to add him. He invites you to the same lobby and you both played a few rounds. It doesn't matter if you sucked at it or are good at it, the action of you playing his favorite game—playing with him, especially—is what makes him love you more. The whole time, he had stupid a smile on his face that he couldn't stop himself.

"Is it fun?" He asks.

"Yeah." You answered with a breathy laugh.

[they-call-me-whiskey]

Promise

pairing: JJ Maybank x Marie Routledge (oc)

summary: the secret relationship isn't a secret anymore.

warnings: a bit of angst, a bit of fluff; English is not my first language.

author's note: this is my first completed fic, and I know it's not good, but let me know what you think anyway.

when Marie arrived at the Chateau, it was suspiciously quiet. usually she could hear noise from several meters away, but now, she didn't hear anything, even when she opened the door. she headed straight to the kitchen and let out a sigh of relief seeing JJ rummaging through the fridge. she leaned casually against the counter a playful smile spread across her face.

“looking for something?” she asked, giggling as he jumped a little.

“you scared me,” he said back, sliding the fridge door shut and stepping closer to her with sly grin growing on his face. “but you’re exactly what I wanted to find.”

she let out a soft laugh, and JJ took her hand, tugging her closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. it has been a while since they'd had any time alone together, as if everyone conspired to keep them from any time just the two of them, and it was starting to seriously piss him off.

“where's the others?” the question was haunting her since she got there. it was almost sunset, and by this time everyone was usually at the Chateau, either watching a movie, playing cards, or whatever else they usually did. but she hadn't seen anyone except JJ.

“they're at Hayward's. needed help with something,” he answered, kissing her neck as his hands slid to her hips.

“they left without the Twinkie?” she asked, remembering seeing the car parked outside.

“they took the HMS Pogue,” JJ said, then suddenly picked her up and sat her down on the table. she squealed out of surprise but the squeal quickly turned into a laugh, making him smile. looking at her sitting before him made his heart beat as if it was ready to leap out of his chest.

“why did you stay?” she asked after a minute of silence. she raised her hand to fix his hair.

“I thought maybe we could have some time for ourselves.” his grin returned, and he leaned in closer. she smiled and met him halfway.

“what the hell?!” a voice broke through the silence, snapping them both back to reality.

JJ pulled back as if he’d touched a hot stove, and they both turned to see John B standing in the doorway, eyes wide with disbelief. Marie jumped down from the table.

“John B—” she started, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“out of limits, man!” John B practically exploded, pointing at JJ. “my sister, JJ? are you kidding me? We’re like brothers, and you… you betray me like that?”

JJ looked stricken, hands raised defensively. “John B, it’s not—just listen for a second—”

“are you serious right now?” John B cut him off, his voice raising with every word. “you went behind my back with Marie, of all people? And I had to find out like this?!”

Marie, caught between anger and embarrassment, raised her voice, “hey, stop acting like I’m not here—”

both boys ignored her, too caught up in the heat of the argument. John B couldn't believe it. his best friend was kissing his little sister. in his own kitchen.

“look, I swear it wasn’t like that,” JJ tried again, his voice desperate, “it’s been a real relationship—”

the word relationship hung in the air, stopping John B cold. his face went through a range of emotions—shock, confusion, then something more intense as the realization hit.

“wait.” He turned fully to Marie now, his eyes sharp. “you guys have been doing this… this whole time? what else have you—?”

JJ winced, bracing himself for the reaction. “John B, listen, I… I know it sounds bad, but… it’s serious.”

John B gave a hollow laugh, clearly too angry to hear any of it. “you… out,” he ground out, grabbing JJ by the arm and dragging him toward the door. JJ barely got a chance to dig his heels in as John B shoved him out onto the porch, only for everyone else to wake up at the noise.

“what’s going on?” Pope mumbled, appearing on the porch, with Kiara right behind him. they'd just gotten back from Hayward's, and while Pope and Kie was tying up the boat John B had run to the Chateau to check if Marie was back.

“JJ’s a dead man,” John B snapped, shoving JJ onto the front steps. “and he’s staying away from Marie.”

JJ, catching his balance, held his hands up in exasperation. “John B, man, just listen—please, it’s not—”

Marie had followed them outside, her voice cutting in, “John B, stop! just let him explain!”

but John B wasn’t having it. he took a threatening step toward JJ. “you say one more thing, and I swear—”

JJ shook his head, running his hand through his hair, looking right back at his best friend. “fine, hit me if you need to, but I’m not staying away from her. I love her, alright?”

a stunned silence fell over the Pogues as they processed what he’d just said. Kiara, squinting at JJ in disbelief, was the first to speak. “wait… you do?”

then Pope echoed, “you do?”

finally, John B, arms falling limp at his sides, just stared, a mix of anger and confusion on his face. “you do?”

JJ, glancing back to Marie, nodded, his voice soft but resolute. “yeah… I do.”

the words hung heavy in the air, tension slowly melting into an awkward silence. Marie looked at him, her expression tender but a bit surprised. they'd never really talked about this; she didn't even know if they were a couple. but what he said — the way he said — made her think that it wasn't just to save his ass. she couldn't help but smiled, her heart doing a somersault.

John B sighed, running a hand through his hair, still looking frustrated but maybe just a bit less angry. “this… this is just a lot to process,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you and… my sister?”

JJ looked at him, dead serious, almost pleading. “I wouldn’t mess around with her, John B. I swear. she means too much to me for that.”

Kiara stepped up, putting a hand on John B’s shoulder. “look, it’s obvious he’s serious,” she said softly. “and maybe… maybe that’s not such a bad thing?”

Pope nodded, shrugging, “yeah, I mean… it’s JJ. if there’s anyone you can trust with her, it’s him.”

John B finally met his sister’s gaze. though she was smiling like an idiot, he could still see the worry in her eyes. he let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. Pope was right—it was JJ. his best friend. he could trust him. maybe. “fine,” he said at last, looking between them. “but don’t you dare break her heart, JJ, or I swear…”

JJ nodded, looking back at John B with the same promise in his eyes. “you got it, man.” His gaze shifted to Marie's smiling face, and he couldn’t hold back his own smile. “never.”

[yandere-sins]

I also had another random thought about being Konig's platonic darling and Ghost's romantic darling at the same time!

In a lot of fics, darlings are mostly seen as rabbit or caged birds right? I personally think that kortac operator!reader is a swan. Why? Swans glide gracefully, but that's on the surface. They're paddling madly under the water. That's her! Being an operator means that darling shows excellence, but doesn't show her struggles to achieve that position. Also, doesn't have the privilege of opening up because that is a privilege reserved for the rookies. Operators can't do that. In Kortac, darling doesn't have the privilege about opening up about Konig. I believe that all readers are beautiful, so that, plus looking perfect in the surface, radiate swan energy.

And Ghost, being an extremely sharp man with good instincts can see that she's "paddling madly under the water" despite the perfect exterior. Maybe this is what attracted him to her?

A little scenario came to mind! I hope you don't mind me adding on to this ^-^

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"Ain't you tired?" a deep, gravelly voice called out to you from behind. You flinched, all your training gone the second either Ghost or König were around, and you'd know his accent from anywhere. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted him hidden in the dark shadows along the wall near you, leisurely leaning against the metal while raking his eyes up and down your body.

It wasn't like you needed to fear him. What you needed was to pay attention to the meeting happening in front of you, although you had to admit you had long tuned out the voices explaining new adaptions to the handbook on how to behave with fellow operators. For a while, you had been watching König, his hulking form a few rows in front of you, other, lower-ranking soldiers separating you just like you wanted. He kept shifting his weight, stealing glances back at you, making sure you were still there.

Of course, you were. You were tired, not disobedient.

"You're not supposed to be here," you mumbled back, your sentence containing the slightest hint of a question even though the fact remained. He wasn't a KorTac operator; he didn't need to take part in a meeting with them. "And you should be sleepin'. Can see your eye bags from a mile away."

"Charming..." you sighed. "You came here just to tell me that?"

"Nah. Just lookin' out for my darlin'."

You took a deep breath, widening your stance as if to put up a stronger barrier. Naturally, König's head snapped around, checking why you were moving. Still, his focus was so sharply on you that he completely missed the ghost hiding in the shadows. König was obviously annoyed about the standing arrangements, rank never suiting him whenever he had to be a professional while in the same room with you. His neck stretched, making him even taller (as if he didn't already surpass all the other soldiers), yet, when you shrugged at him, he resigned himself to listening to the lecture. Was he disappointed there was no danger? One, where he could swoop you up and carry you to safety?

"I'm not tired, thanks," you finally replied to Ghost's question, speaking slowly and calmly to not raise suspicion by letting your voice ring through the rows of operators. If König—who you were sure by now this meeting was about as someone must have ratted him out for how he was behaving around you—wasn't enough of a stress factor, you really didn't need an additional hen to hoover over you.

"No foolin' me. I know he kept you on your toes last night. Always does, that bastard. The thrill of the chase, yeh? But won't you get tired from being the mouse?"

"It's not ideal," you offered, a small acknowledgment of the truth. "But he's my colonel, and I respect him. Can we leave it at that?"

Ghost sighed, and you felt his presence step up to your back rather than hear it. Uncanny, that's what he was. That was the reason your skin turned into goosebumps as he stood behind you, shrouded in darkness like an apparition rather than a fellow human being.

"Sure, darlin'. You can have me bed if you need to sleep for once. You know where to find me."

And then, as silently as he appeared, he was gone again, leaving you with that offer. Biting your lip, you hated how tempting it was. How secure it felt to put your trust in him. You knew better than that; knew he was on the opposite side of the spectrum of the horror you were living.

Ghost made it very clear that he wanted you, perhaps in the same way as König, just... carnally. König wanted his version of you, to be with you, to obsess over you, love you. Take care of you although you were perfectly able to do so yourself. The job was dangerous, sure, but in his version, you were a pitiful, debilitated thing to care for. One that needed him almost as much as he seemed to need you. But Ghost... he wanted more than that.

He wanted to win you over, wanted to mold and bend you as he pleased, wanted you feisty yet helpless to his demands. He wanted you screaming and crying, but he wanted you to come to him despite the eery promises of discomfort he emitted. There was more possessiveness in his eyes every time you saw him, more lust, more desire. Perhaps it was a form of love, too, but it was hard to understand either man obsessing with you.

"[Name]?"

Shit, the meeting.

"Y-Yeah?" you replied quickly, not wanting to be caught. König towered in front of you, his body blacking out the low-hanging lights he had to duck underneath.

"Who were you talking with? I saw your mouth move."

"N-No one, Colonel! I was repeating what I was learning."

"Oh... I see. Good. That's good."

You noticed his eyes prying away from you, scanning the area behind you briefly. "Let's go then. You didn't have your breakfast yet, did you?"

Lifting his arm behind your back, it hovered there. Not close enough to touch, even if you knew he was edging his fingertips over your shoulders, but it urged you forward in a gesture so natural, no one batted an eye. You sighed as you picked up a pace that König had very little problem keeping up with, but you knew that not all suspicions were quelled just with your verbal confirmation. He'd be even more careful and attentive—which was hard, considering he was overbearing on the good days.

And suddenly, Ghost's invitation felt very tempting again.

[lexirosewrites]

The Journey Ahead AU Part 2 of 2

Eddie's only condition is tht they'll have to do the filming & song writing & recording where he is rather than him flying out to LA because Steve is pregnant & he's at the point where the OBGYN doesn't want him traveling for long periods & Eddie refuses to not b there for his mate

Jeff gets all of the moving parts together for filming, Gareth announces a vacation on his radio show, & Felix flies out early to help Eddie convert Wayne's basement into a recording studio

They end up spending all winter together, collaborating again, joking around again, they play a short d&d campaign w Eddie as their fearless DM, recording the podcast with special appearances by Steve or Wayne or Robin

at the end of it all when they've written & recorded all of the songs they decided were good enough for their farewell album they decide to make the final track another re-record of "The Journey Ahead" an acoustic version this time except when they're on the first take nearly to the bridge of the song Robin comes thundering down interrupting the recording & yelling at Eddie to get his ass moving bc the baby's coming!!!!

Eddie barely remembers to put his guitar down, the guys r all ushering him out of the basement, Eddie forgets to grab his coat before running into the late winter afternoon w shouts from the band tht they'reright behind him, Robin right beside him updating him tht Wayne was w Steve, tht they'd called the OBGYN & she was on her way for the home birth, tht his water had broken barely 20 minutes before & the contractions were now close together, no one feels fully prepared bc the baby wasn't due for another week & a half, the Dr gets there at the same time as Eddie is running upstairs to their nest & Robin is catching her breath on the porch & the band r thundering over from Wayne's w Jeff clutching Eddie's coat & the remaining 2 ppl in the camerancrew behind them, the speed is necessary bc omega births r fast

(The reason Eddie hadn't been grabbed sooner was bc Steve didn't realize he was having contractions, thinking they were phantom pains, till his water broke. Then Robin & Wayne were busy getting him upstairs to his nest before Robin was running to get Eddie. Omega births r fast so his contractions quickly got to the point of 5 minutes apart lasting a full minute)

The Dr gets into the master room, gets her hands washed, gets all of her equipment sterilized & set up just in time for Steve to start pushing

Downstairs Wayne is sitting at the kitchen table while Gareth makes coffee, Jeff & Robin r pacing the living room with Jeff having to hold Robin back from running upstairs everytime they hear Steve yelling in pain, Felix has gone back to Wayne's & taken the rental car to town, a single cameraman had run out behind Eddie & Robin & he was set up capturing shots of Robin & Jeff pacing, when the other 2 arrived they set up shots of Wayne & Gareth in the kitchen, no one is speaking or playing music the only noticeable sound is Steve yelling upstairs

When 30 minutes had passed the master bedroom door banged open to Eddie yelling for Robin tht Steve needed her & the camerawoman got a great shot thru the open kitchen doorway of the female alpha running upstairs past Wayne standing up from the table with Gareth. Then 5 minutes later Felix pulls up & gets Jeff to help him carry in groceries, Felix then immediately gets to work cooking dinner for everyone (including the camera crew of 3 ppl) when the food is nearly ready almost an hour later there's suddenly the sounds of Steve yelling louder than he had all night followed by short silence tht was quickly filled w the cries of a baby

Robin thunders down the stairs into the kitchen where Wayne has been sitting; the old alpha had tensed up at every cry of pain from Steve, & when the baby was heard he was standing up fast, when Robin reaches the kitchen she tells Wayne tht Eddie & Steve want him to meet his grandson, Jacob Wayne Munson

It wasn't until everyone got back to Wayne's tht they realized they'd left the recording going in all the chaos

Much later when the 20th anniversary is near Felix & Gareth & Jeff all make announcements on their accounts abt the newest & truly final album titled "A Long Awaited Farewell" & the 20 episode podcast

The album ends up with 20 tracks, 2nd to last is titled "The Journey Ahead (Interrupted)" it's the first take where they ended up recording the pandemonium of Steve's early labor, ending the recording with a fade out after the rest of the band ran out of the studio

& the truly final song is a lullaby with lyrics by Steve & composition by Eddie titled "The Tree and The Dragon"

The album breaks records, units sell faster than stores can keep stock, several songs end up on the radio, music streaming apps actually crash the first day of the release

When the podcasts first episode posts online 3 days after the albums released tht ends up breaking records too, having the largest podcast debut to date

The documentary breaks records when Jeff dusts off the old band account to surprise upload it to YouTube for free the day after the final podcast episode.

Eddie makes a single new post on all of his old official accounts the day of the album release, it's a picture of Steve & Robin & Wayne with a high chair for Jacob all sat at Wayne's dining table eating Sunday breakfast & the caption is the final lyric of The Journey Ahead "It was all worth it in the end."

[That's all folks! I'll probably end up using at least SOME of this series of events in Bewitched By Yuletide eventually]

rockstar dad eddie🥰🥰🥰

link to part one

[marvelfanfics1]

Based on the scene where JJ saves Sarah from drowning but with maybank!little!reader instead!!

The sun casts an ever burning heat over the dunes of Morocco, Rafe and the pogues clinging onto the thought that you and JJ are alive and well, the constant unease going through the group but neither of them giving up hope.

Rafe sits on a dune with a good amount of distance from the others, lost in thought and staring at the ocean, desperately waiting for you to emerge any second.

If those idiots wouldn't have tied him in the bathroom he could've saved you, he could've prevented the worst thing he ever thought possible, losing you.

The thought of you all alone and scared, screaming for him to come and save you nags on his mind constantly.

Sarah occasionally goes over to him, pleading him to drink some water to keep at least hydrated, telling him that him dying from dehydration won't help you if you and JJ actually show up.

He keeps silent until she walks away again, grabbing the bottle of water and taking a few sips, the ache of his throat momentarily distracting him from the sting in his chest.

At night he couldn't get himself to sleep, too much on edge to close his eyes even for a moment. Everyone else is already sleeping and the silence is only broken by Sarah's sudden voice. "We'll find them soon. She'll be okay."

Rafe looks at her for a moment before looking back straight ahead again. "I never wanted her to be involved in this in the first place."

"Do you think JJ did? You know how she doesn't like to do what she's told, she's a Maybank after all." She responds, throwing another piece of wood into the fireplace.

Another day of waiting and Rafe keeping his distance, not wanting the others to see how terrified he actually is as he keeps turning the ring on his finger, the moment of where proposed to you before all this stuff happened replaying in his head.

Over the time in your relationship he kept promising that he will take care of you, to protect you from any harm, and he failed. He failed you.

Looking to the side his body stiffens, lifting his head when he sees blurry figures in the distance. He stands up, thinking he now starts hallucinating from the heat, lifting his hands to block the sun.

As the figures draw closer his legs automatically drag him in their direction, sliding down the dune. He picks up his pace, the shapes turning more clear.

You are so exhausted, your legs hurting together with your dry throat. JJ has an arm draped over your shoulders, keeping up his usual joking persona to light up your mood.

"I swear when we get that crown I'll buy a whole toy store empty just for you." He says with a smile and you giggle at that.

By the call of your name you stop in your tracks, tearing your gaze from the sand to see someone approach you both, instantly recognizing who the voice belongs to.

"Rafe..."

Letting your shoes fall from your shoulders you start running without hesitation, almost stumbling a few times as you can see Rafe more clearly and jump into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Rafe holds you tightly against him, fearing that if he lets go that you'll just disappear again. He buries his face in your shoulder, hearing you start to sob. "You're okay...I've got you."

"I-I thought you...I-" You stammer but he just shushes you softly.

"I'm here now. Daddy's here..." He assures you, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "I'll never let you go again..."

He gently sets you back down onto the sand, pulling back to cup your face in his large palms, scanning over your face to make sure you're really standing in front of him, tears pricking in his eyes.

Rafe leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back again. "I thought I lost you..."

"I-I was drowning but Jay saved me..." You explain while sniffling, turning your head to look at JJ who has his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Are the others okay?" JJ asks and Rafe nods.

"They're up there." He answers, pausing for a moment before asking. "You good?"

"As good as I can be." He replies, walking past you both and patting his shoulder.

You both follow behind him while Rafe has an arm around your waist to keep you close and you lean your head against him, your arms still wrapped around him as you continue walking.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[aventurineswife]

Could I request Lucifer reassuring his lover who's doubting their abilities despite being incredibly talented?

Poor reader thinks they're boring because they'd rather focus on their work and duties instead of being romantic.

“Perfect the way you are”

Summary: Lucifer reassures his lover, who is doubting their abilities and feeling "boring" due to their focus on work over romantic gestures. He reminds them that their dedication, strength, and unique qualities are what make them special, and that they don’t need to conform to anyone’s expectations to be enough for him.

Tags: Lucifer x Reader, Comfort, Reassurance, Insecurity, Self-doubt, Romance, Supportive Relationship, Positive Affirmations.

The dimly lit office was filled with the soft rustle of papers and the faint hum of the ever-present magical energy that flowed through the room. Lucifer sat behind his desk, his sharp eyes scanning through a pile of paperwork with an air of absolute focus. His pen moved swiftly across the page, as if the weight of the world depended on every stroke.

You, standing a few feet away, were struggling to put your thoughts into words, a quiet storm of insecurities swirling within your mind. You had always prided yourself on your dedication, your work ethic, and the level of responsibility you carried. But tonight, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, a familiar nagging doubt gnawed at you.

Am I boring? You thought. Am I a failure?

The room felt suffocating as you shifted from one foot to the other, biting your lip in uncertainty. You had noticed lately that your focus on work and duties had begun to overshadow your usual playful, romantic side. It wasn't that you didn’t love Lucifer—far from it. But there had been no grand gestures, no sweeping declarations of love. You were too busy, too consumed with tasks to notice the opportunities slipping away.

Lucifer, ever perceptive, glanced up from his papers, his sharp eyes catching the slightest shift in your demeanor. He could see it, the way you hesitated, the way your eyes betrayed a thought that had been haunting you for days. He put down his pen, an unspoken understanding crossing between the two of you.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “Something is bothering you.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to voice the thoughts that had been swirling around in your head. Finally, unable to keep them bottled up anymore, you spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Lucifer... do you think I’m boring?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not at all surprised by your sudden outburst. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you. “Boring? What makes you think that?”

You looked away, feeling your heart sink at your own vulnerability. “I mean... I know I’m not exactly the romantic type. You’re always so... grand and confident, and I just... I’m not like that. I focus on my work, my duties. But lately, it feels like that’s all I’m good for. I’m starting to wonder if I’m... not enough. If I’m boring to you.”

Lucifer’s expression softened, his usually cold and aloof demeanor slipping for a moment. He stood up and walked toward you, his steps steady, purposeful. When he reached you, he lifted your chin gently with a finger, urging you to meet his gaze.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low, yet filled with the sincerity you rarely heard from him. “You’re not boring. In fact, you’re far from it.”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “But... I don’t show you enough affection. I don’t do things like other people. I don’t make grand gestures or...”

“Stop,” Lucifer interrupted, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are incredibly talented, more than you realize. You focus on your duties, your work—because that’s your strength. You have an inner strength that I admire deeply, and while I enjoy affection as much as anyone else, I also understand the importance of the responsibilities you bear.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, his words sinking in slowly, washing away the doubts that had clouded your mind.

“I don’t need grand gestures to know you care for me,” he continued. “I see the dedication you put into everything you do, and that dedication speaks louder than any romantic overture ever could.”

His eyes softened, the usually commanding Lucifer now vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. He reached for your hand, his fingers gently entwining with yours.

“You don’t have to be anything other than who you are for me to love you. The way you are, the way you care for your work—it’s a part of what makes you... you,” he said, his tone deepening. “And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words finally breaking through the walls you had built around yourself. You stared into his eyes, and for the first time that evening, you allowed yourself to believe in what he was saying.

Lucifer squeezed your hand, a reassuring smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “So no, my dear, you are not boring. You are talented, you are strong, and you are more than enough for me. You’ve always been enough.”

A wave of relief washed over you, and a soft laugh escaped your lips. You were still uncertain about many things, but in that moment, you understood one thing for sure: you were enough.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead, a silent promise passing between you both. “And if you ever doubt yourself again... you know where to find me.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his touch, the security in his words. Maybe you didn’t need to be like everyone else. You didn’t need to follow the expectations others placed on you. You just needed to be yourself. And that, as it turned out, was exactly what Lucifer needed as well.

[desertduality]

Trustfall

Ao3

Just a little thing I wrote to explore the Jimmy and Scar dynamic. Set loosely after session two. Enjoy! <3

Night comes, and Scar can't hide from his feelings anymore. They catch up to him - like everything does, eventually. Scar can never run fast enough.

He's on another mountain, this one green and pink and bright, bordered by tall shoots of bamboo and topped with cherry blossom trees, decorated with growing wheat fields and pens that - sometimes - house sheep and cows. It's all so... alive. So beautiful. So fragile.

The beauty of it is not the surprising part. It's not even that he spent the better part of the day eating dirt or leaves or shovels. No, the strangest thing on the mountain is the people. The strangest thing about them is that they're there at all. With Scar. On purpose.

He can't quite figure it out. The why of it. Jimmy had made it look so easy to say he would stay, like he couldn't think of a million reasons not to. And then Lizzie, who he had invited, and then still been surprised to see her there when he got back. They do it without obligation. Scar had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Neither of them are tethered to him by fate or bound by an oath. They're just there, bright and silly and constant. He'd had something close to it, once, with the allies he'd jokingly called his family, but that had been... messy.

Jimmy and Lizzie make caring about him feel like something simple.

Tell me about your theme park idea, Lizzie had said, and he had. He'd braced himself for- for something. For dismissal. For a roll of the eyes.

A good theme park has three things. Lizzie had mused instead. We need rides, decorations, and a mascot. I think one of us here has real mascot energy.

Jimmy's face had lit up. Lizzie had built three birds at the entrance to their base, standing proudly. Scar stares at them now, shadowy figures in the dark. They're a team. And as much as Lizzie jokes and groans about what a handful the two of them are, they're still equals. They understand each other. Lizzie knows what it's like to be alone, overlooked. Jimmy knows what it's like to be seen as a burden, a joke.

Somehow, despite everything, they trust each other. It's terrifying.

"Stargazing?"

Scar jumps at the voice, a quiet yelp escaping his throat before he can stop it. He twists his torso to look, a jerky motion, and lays eyes on Jimmy, who seems a bit apologetic. "Ah, sorry-"

"Geez, Jimmy, oh my god," Scar says through wheezing breaths, hand pressed to his chest. "This is the life series, man, you can't sneak up on- on a man in thought!"

"Right, sorry, sorry," Jimmy continues, laughing a little bit. "Thought you heard me walk over."

Jimmy sits down next to him, clothes rumpled from bed. It's quiet, fireflies blinking and crickets chirping in the distance. The moon is nearly full, high in the sky. It's early enough in the game that a full nights sleep is still an option. And yet-

"Couldn't sleep?" Jimmy asks, tone light but genuine.

"Oh, you know," Scar says, humming. "Stomach ache. Dirt doesn't agree with me. Who knew?"

"Yeah, glad that one's over." Jimmy stretches his legs out in front of him. "Think I chipped a tooth. I'm billing Grian."

Scar laughs quietly, mindful of Lizzie snoring just a few yards away. That's another thing he's not quite used to: sleeping with others nearby. It's comforting. He's afraid he'll get used to it.

They sit in silence for a while, comfortable and secure. Their frankly absurd amount of bamboo rustles in the gentle wind, cherry blossom petals perpetually raining down around them. It's the kind of perfect peace that has Scar waiting on the other shoe to drop.

"...What was winning like?" Jimmy asks eventually, voice soft.

"...I don't know," Scar says. "It didn't really feel like winning. It was kind of just, like. Sad."

"Sad?"

"Yeah." Scar sighs, leaning back to look at the stars. "I thought it might make me feel better, to just- to prove that I could."

Jimmy hums like he's really listening, like he understands, and Scar... Something settles. Something that has been flinching for a very long time goes still.

"I was tired of being alone," he admits. "Still am. I end up that way a lot."

"Not this time," Jimmy says, a lopsided smile on his face. "Not on my watch."

He places a comforting hand on Scar's shoulder. Grounding. Real.

Oh, Scar thinks. This is what it's like to have something to lose.

"You sure it's not too early to say that?" Scar asks, half teasing. "You might be running for the hills a week from now. I'm not- I'm not an easy teammate."

"Hey, me neither, pal." Jimmy nudges him, smile a bit jagged at the edges. "I'm known for dying early. I've got issues with longevity."

"They make medicine for that."

"Wh- Scar!"

Scar doubles over, wheezing uncontrollably. Jimmy follows helplessly, in a way that almost sounds painful. It continues for a while, until Lizzie makes a small noise in her sleep, and the two of them choke back their laughter to something manageable, tapering back into silence. Scar feels... happy. He feels happy. It's...

"How about you?" Scar asks. "Anything you want to get off your chest? Just between us. And the giant parrot statues."

"Ehh, I don't know," Jimmy says playfully, eying the parrots suspiciously. "I don't know if I trust 'em."

"And me?"

"You?" Jimmy glances sideways at him, eyes light and honest. "Of course. We're the Bam Boys."

Trust is something that Scar had thought he'd killed a long time ago. Jimmy offers it anyway. It's like a lighthouse in a storm. The sun to a flower. Water in a desert.

Trust. Just this once, Scar vows not to break it.

"So," Scar says, like nothing just happened. "Anything?"

Jimmy exhales shakily, looking away, down at his hands. There's dirt under his fingernails. Scar waits.

"I don't want to die first," Jimmy says, a faint tone of embarrassment in his voice. "I know it's like, a thing, but I really..."

Canary, they call him. A creature whose purpose is to die.

Scar knows a thing or two about unwanted titles. He sometimes feels like the role of Villain is still branded onto his skin, with the way some people look at him.

I don't want to die, cries the Canary, but the miner only pays attention when the singing stops.

"You won't," Scar says, as close to a promise as he can get. "Not this time. Not on my watch."

Jimmy grins crookedly, something relieved at the corners of his eyes. "That right?"

"That's right."

They go back to bed.