#i'm fully preparing for this show to betray me
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pharawee · 1 year ago
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"I don't want to carry the chairs anymore. I want to carry you."
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leighsartworks216 · 7 months ago
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There Is No Love Purer Than Mine
Sylus x gn!Reader
Based on a video I can't find where a girl on one of those dating tv shows says "I love you" to a guy, and he asks her to repeat it again and again as his voice cracks. It's always stuck with me, and now I'm pulling it out of cold storage
Warnings: kissing, crying, declarations of love, mild hurt/comfort
Word Count: 625
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The words stole the air from your lungs. You stare at Sylus, wide-eyed and trying to remember how to breathe, while he has the audacity to lounge nonchalantly against the sofa and watch.
He smirks at your reaction. His arms are stretched along the back of the couch. His sweater steals the intimidation from his face and invites you to curl into his side. You had been, moments ago, but then he said… He said…
“What’s the matter, kitten?” he asks. It’s playful, but his arm falls to brush a hand against your cheek, betraying the real concern behind the bravado.
You swallow. Your voice comes out as a whisper, still breathless and shaky. “Say it again.”
His smirk softens into a smile. He brushes some hair behind your ear. “I love you.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. “Again.”
This time, he sits forward. His other arm reaches out to hold your hand where it sits in your lap. He says it reverently. “I love you.”
It feels like your body has been dunked in a cold bath. Chills run up your arms. Your chest feels tight. He pulls your blanket tighter around you. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. “Again…”
“I love you.” He leans forward until your foreheads touch. “I love you.” He cups your cheek and brushes away a tear with his thumb. His eyes never leave yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
You close your eyes and lean into his touch - pressing your forehead insistently against his, tilting your face into his hand, shifting closer on the couch. Tears stick to your eyelashes before they fall down your cheeks. He brushes them away diligently. You squeeze his hand tightly.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low and gentle.
You nod immediately. His long fingers curl around your jaw, fingertips in your hair, holding you to him.
“I love you.”
It’s so soft you almost don’t feel it. The brush of his lips over yours. If you hadn’t feel his breath warming them, you wouldn’t have realized at all. You crack your eyes open to watch when you tilt your chin up, seeking a full, proper kiss.
He answers your demand. Stuttered and solid breaths merge, gasping every time your lips separate, preparing for the next moment they connect. Over and over. The salt of the popcorn clings to his lips, complimenting the salt of your tears. His tongue carries the distinct fruitiness of his wine as it seeks yours out. Tempered moans and sighs pass between each other.
When he pulls away, you strain your neck forward for more, but he presses his thumb to your lips instead. You blink your eyes open at him, glistening and red from crying.
For a second, you’re scared. Scared he’ll take it back. Scared he’ll toss you aside, laugh in your face, leave you behind. Scared he’ll leave a scar on your heart that will never fully mend.
But he doesn’t.
He kisses the corner of your mouth. Your cheek. Under your eye. Over your closed eyelid. When he pulls back, he doesn’t stray far.
“Come here, my beloved,” he coos as he pulls you into his side. You wrap your arms around his torso, bury your wet face into his sweater. He wraps both arms around you, too, a silent promise not to let go.
The movie is just background noise now. You have no idea what’s happening in the story and you can’t give a damn. When you rest your chin against him to look at his face, he’s not watching either.
“I love you…” you whisper, tentative. Testing the shark-infested waters and trusting he’ll save you.
And he does.
“I love you, too, kitten.”
---
@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41
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alchemistc · 20 days ago
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The thing is I understand why there are people who hate this decision, and I don't begrudge anyone for being angry, sad, upset - ready to fucking leave because they feel betrayed by the narrative. Personally I think that Tim decided that in order to make the show fresh and new he needed to break the rule that has kept people tuned in to this show for a long time: Firefam doesn't die got tossed after 8 seasons because Tim wanted to shock the audience and generate intense conversations.
Well it fucking worked.
He isolated every character in those final moments to tell us all nothing is safe or sacred.
He killed off Bobby to tell us no one is safe. Like. If we get down to brass tacks that's his reason.
That's definitely a betrayal of the show of yore, and I cannot blame a single person, GA or fandom, for deciding that that is the moment to tune out.
I hate that Peter didn't want to leave. I hate that.
But I do also see the merit in portraying that immense grief, that loss so Big it feels like you can never fully recover. Bobby was bigger than himself, so much to do many people, and I think most people have someone like that in their lives. So I see the merit in losing him.
In the overarching build of 9-1-1 I can see why Tim decided to melt down a single toy soldier in his sandbox just to figure out how the dynamics of his other toys changes. These are his playthings.
The thing is he's not in the writers room every second dealing with the fallout. He's not on set every day with the actors who also have to grieve the smaller but still significant loss of not having Peter around anymore. He's not out here with the audience day to day listening to the impact certain characters have on a personal level.
Do I still want to see where this is going? Absolutely, grief and loss and healing are all sandboxes I like to play in myself. How do you live a life when a piece of your soul has gone missing? How do you move on from a sacrifice that changes the entire world around you? Will you ever be able to see the colors of a sunset or the sky or the ground he's now under the same way?
That's interesting to explore.
But it's also devastating. Bobby was a presence, a weight, that will still sit heavy on so many shoulders for a long long time. And while Peter found a way to draw meaning from it - the reality of the job he's portraying, the fact that these public servants put their lives on the line every day and sometimes they lose them - it doesn't feel like Tim gave it the same thought. He just wanted shock and awe and despair.
He got it. At whatever cost.
I guess what I'm saying is give people some fucking grace to decide for themselves whether or not they're moving forward with the show. This has been so polarizing and it's been rough for all of us in different and sometimes diametrically opposed ways.
I'm the idiot who tuned in live for the first time in months specifically to have my heart broken, because that's a storyline that compels me. It's the same fucked up reason I'm watching TLOU with bated breath.
Not everyone ticks the same way, and I fully understand and empathize with those of you finding this to be an empty hollow loss.
All this to say if this is it for you, I'll miss seeing your icons in the tags and I'll try my damndest to tag things appropriately so you don't have to see that shit and hope that one day we stumble across another fandom together.
And if you're staying, I just hope you're prepared for the next time Tim decides he needs to Shake Things Up.
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dinarosie · 6 months ago
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Snape’s Legacy Goes Beyond His Flaws: part 1
I wrote this post to highlight moments when, despite his personal wounds, Snape still chooses to save the lives of the Marauders. My goal was to show how, no matter how flawed, Snape acts as a brave hero who prioritizes human life. The comments below genuinely surprised me, and they actually make me want to quote specific passages from the books to showcase Snape’s actions. I'm splitting this post into two parts, as including all the quotes from the books makes it quite long.
It’s honestly hilarious when some people keep telling: 'read the books,' while they seem blissfully unaware of how things actually go down in the story. One can only hope that one day they’ll realize fanfics aren’t the original books. Shocking, I know—but those are just fans playing with their own imagination, not a hidden version of the canon.
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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, THE PRINCE’S TALE: dark night: He was accompanied by other hooded Death Eaters, and ahead were Lupin and a Harry who was really George. . . . A Death Eater moved ahead of Snape and raised his wand, pointing it directly at Lupin’s back — “Sectumsempra!” shouted Snape. But the spell, intended for the Death Eater’s wand hand, missed and hit George instead — Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, HERMIONE'S SECRET: “I don’t know — Harry, look at Snape!” Together they peered around the bush at the other bank. Snape had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Harry, Hermione, and Black onto them. A fourth stretcher, no doubt bearing Ron, was already floating at his side. Then, wand held out in front of him, he moved them away toward the castle.
Let me lay it out clearly: in this scene, Snape’s priority is to save the lives of four people and uphold justice:
Snape is taking the most honorable approach here. He knows that three of his students have directly disobeyed him, put themselves in harm’s way, and even teamed up with Black, a known fugitive, against his warnings. Yet he controls his anger because his first priority is their safety and getting them back to school unharmed.
Snape believes at this moment that Black has conspired with Voldemort, betrayed the Potters, orphaned their son, killed Pettigrew, and murdered twelve innocent Muggles. It’s no wonder he feels Black deserves the Dementor’s Kiss. Even Harry, when he believed these things about Black, felt that justice should be served and saw no issue in Black paying the price for such crimes. And remember, when Black learns the truth about Pettigrew, he’s furious enough to try to kill him on the spot. Yet, Snape has the composure and discipline to restrain his rage and sees it as his responsibility to bring Black back alive. He leaves the punishment to the legal system and to justice, refusing to take it into his own hands.
And let’s not forget: just an hour before, Sirius was openly willing to drag Snape’s unconscious body to the castle, fully prepared to bash Snape’s head against the ceiling—purely out of lingering childish hatred for Snape’s appearance and background. Sirius had no regard for the injuries he might inflict on Snape.
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Barbara: I was very disappointed to see harry use crucio and seem to enjoy it his failure to perform that kind of curse in the past has been a credit to his character why the change, and did harry later regret having enjoyed deliberately causing pain J.K. Rowling: Harry is not, and never has been, a saint. Like Snape, he is flawed and mortal.
His character flaws don’t erase all the good he’s done or the impact he’s had. If you believe that being “flawed” or “grey” prevents someone from being a hero, then you’ve missed one of the core messages of the Harry Potter series. By that standard, no one in the books would be a hero because nearly every character has their own set of flaws. Even J.K. Rowling herself draws parallels between Snape and Harry, calling both of them imperfect. If you find Snape unforgivable, then logically, you’d have to find Harry Potter unforgivable, too.
Snape is a hero because he spends his life atoning for his mistakes. He stays on the right side even when there’s no personal gain, saving lives, healing others, and standing by his principles despite losing his way in darkness. He has the strength to return to the right path and stay loyal to it for years. Thanks to his courage and sacrifices, the wizarding world is freed from a dark wizard’s crimes. Because of him, innocent children like Harry aren’t left orphaned, and young mothers like Lily don’t lose their lives and families. Because of Snape’s loyalty, teenage souls like Draco Malfoy’s don’t get lost in darkness.
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gullemec · 4 months ago
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Red Underlined
Golden Cage - Chapter Six
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series masterlist ao3
Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader
Summary: You confront the aftermath of your night with Butcher and your father hosts a rather interesting dinner party.
Warnings: angst, language, butcher being emotionally constipated and a dick about it, discussion of sex, discussion of grief, daddy issues galore, discussion of death/murder, reader has an emotional breakdown, discussion of suicide (not reader), sexual tension, Homelander is a creep, unwanted touching (from Homelander)
Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3
WC: 7.8k
A/N: Lots of emotional constipation and angst and daddy issues here, proceed with caution! Also Homelander makes an appearance and is such a nasty creep so beware of that too.
This time when you wake, it's with a start. No warm embrace, no welcome weight tethering you, just the cold shock of reality rousing you from a fleeting dream. Your heart thuds as your half-awake brain searches the room.
Butcher sits across from you, perched in the room’s stiff wingback chair, his silhouette outlined by the pale dawn light. He’s fully dressed, boots planted firmly on the floor, arms crossed like he’s preparing for a battle.
“Butch?” Your voice comes out groggy, uncertain. He doesn’t look at you. “What are you doing?”
“Get dressed,” he says, flat and clipped.
You blink at him, confusion prickling under your skin. Yesterday’s clothes are scattered around the room, discarded in the heat of passion. Gathering them, you can’t help but notice how he averts his eyes, a rare show of decorum. But his body is stiff, his expression locked in that impenetrable mask.
Does he regret it?
The thought coils in your gut like a snake, equal parts hurt and fury. You’ve had enough of his hot-and-cold act, especially after the mind-blowing sex you'd shared just hours earlier. 
By the time you’ve dressed, the tension in the room feels suffocating. Without another word, he leads you out to the waiting van.
He may be older than most of the guys you usually sleep with, but his maturity level might actually rank below theirs. 
The silence on the highway is unbearable, the minutes dragging like hours. You stare at him, his profile rigid as he grips the wheel, his jaw tight. Finally, you snap.
“Look, I’m not doing this,” you begin. “I'm not subjecting myself to another awkward car ride, so you'd better come right out and tell me now if you regret last night.”
He exhales hard through his nose, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel.
“I don't,” he says, after what feels like an eternity.
“You don't what?” you push, unwilling to let him off the hook.
His lips press into a thin line, the struggle playing out across his face as he tries and fails to find the right words. 
“I don't regret it. At all. Last night was one of the best nights of my fucking life, all right?”
Your heart skips, but the relief is short-lived.
“But it was a mistake,” he continues, voice low. “We shouldn’t have done it.”
The sting of rejection hits you like a slap. “Why not? Because you suddenly grew a conscience?”
“Listen, love, you're young. You got a future ahead of you. I'm too damn old for you. I’ve got more baggage than Heathrow, and none of it’s carry-on.”
“You think I care about that?” you fire back, your voice rising. “You think I don’t know who you are by now?”
“It’s not just that,” he says, cutting you off. “This job? This life? It’s dangerous. You don’t have room for emotional ties if you want to survive it.”
“Who said anything about emotional ties?” you retort, even as your chest tightens. You could play it cool. Maybe the two of you could be purely physical, using the kinetic energy you share for sexual release alone. Sure, you'd be betraying the growing sentiment you'd developed toward the abrasive man, settling for his physical affection alone if he truly couldn't find it in him to serve you emotionally, but at least you'd have some shred of him to keep for yourself. 
But the way he shakes his head tells you it’s not an option.
“You deserve more than that,” he says firmly, eyes fixed on the road.
You scoff, anger bubbling up. “That’s rich, coming from you. You certainly weren't saying that last night when your dick was—”
“You think I don't want to be able to give you that?” His voice is raw, startling in its honesty.
The fight leaves you for a moment, the truth of his words sinking in. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t let you see the cracks in his armor.
“You’re gonna meet someone,” he says, quieter now. “Someone who can give you the life you deserve. Someone who doesn’t drag you into this mess. Someone better.”
You scoff, hurt quickly turning to anger. “That’s bullshit,” you snap, your voice trembling. “Don’t pretend you know what I want, Butcher. You think I’ve got some perfect life waiting for me? Have I ever given you any reason to think I want anything more than being a part of the Boys? You think I don’t know exactly what I’m signing up for?”
He says your name, gently, like a prayer, finally turning to look at you. 
“Listen to me,” you tell him. “This is the most alive I've felt since my mom died. For the first time in my life I feel like I'm really making her proud. And I'll be damned if you get to decide what my future looks like.”
He finally turns to look at you, his hazel eyes softening. “Of course you get to decide what you want, if that means working with us. But you deserve to be happy, love. And I can’t give you that. I’m sorry.”
The apology hangs heavy between you, cutting deeper than you’d expected. You turn away, staring out the window as your eyes sting. You won’t cry. Not here. Not in front of him.. He cannot know the deadliness of the blow he has so casually dealt you. 
“Thanks for being honest, I guess,” you say quietly, your voice brittle.
The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words. Finally, Butcher clears his throat. “I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this. MM and Frenchie can take over—”
For an angry, petulant moment you want to agree, to let your hurt be known. But it's not what you want, not even close. As much as the sting of rejection smarts right now, complete separation from him would hurt even more.
“No,” you interrupt, the word sharper than you intended. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”
A part of you does feel relief, knowing that you would have fallen into bed with him regardless of his true feelings for you. Your bones and atoms had screamed at you incessantly to crash your very being against his, and you had fulfilled that request. Maybe you could let go of this preoccupation now. 
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The road hums beneath the tires, the tension easing just enough for you to breathe.
“It was just a one time thing,” you offer, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. 
He nods, too quickly. “Purely physical,” he agrees. 
“Right. No one has to know,” you assert. 
Probably for the best. It was bad enough that everyone at your internship thought you only got the position because of your father, you didn't need the others in the Boys thinking you were only there because you were fucking their boss. 
Still, he holds your gaze, shoulders tense, only tossing a glance toward the road when absolutely necessary. He's assessing you for truthfulness, picking up on the smallest tells in your voice that you're not as casual about this as you'd like him to think. 
You hesitate for a moment.
“It was really good, though,” you admit.
And, like a dam, his cool facade releases, posture softening. “It was really fucking good,” be agrees enthusiastically. 
“Like, so good,” you repeat. 
You both laugh. 
Fuck. 
~~~
For your entire life, family dinner has been a fortnightly tradition. 
There is a salient moment in your childhood memory; your parents, tucked away in some corner of the house they thought you wouldn't detect, voices raised in frustration. Your father, increasingly away from home, was missing out on your childhood. Your mother, desperate to keep your life as stable as possible, begging him to change. Despite his philandering ways, there was a love there between your parents, at least once upon a time. And thus a compromise was reached and the family dinner tradition was born. 
Of course, CytoGenix duty called from time to time and family dinner was deemed of lower priority, leaving you and your mother to dine alone, huddled at the end of the ten-seater dining table. Then there were the four years you spent studying abroad, missed dinners you had no idea would be your mother’s last. Still, family dinner had been an honored tradition for the most part.
And when you were bedridden, steeped in grief and disbelief, it was your father's suggestion that you restart the tradition. It was the only thing that roused you from that dark numbness. For a couple of months there it was good. Just you and dad, navigating the fog together, united in your heartbreak. 
That was, until he announced there would be a guest joining you at dinner one night. You had assumed an aunt or distant cousin, some estranged family member who’d made their way through the woodwork upon hearing the news of your mother’s untimely passing. That pretense fell away the moment Monica strolled into the dining room, dressed for Paris fashion week. You’d held a polite smile, asked polite questions, and offered polite answers to the rare, offhand question she threw your way. It was at one of these fortnightly dinners that Monica and your father, hands grasped together tightly, announced they were getting married. It was harder this time to offer a polite congratulations, forcing a pained smile until you could excuse yourself to sob in the privacy of the bathroom.
And no, you didn’t go to the wedding.
It’s in that enormous dining room that you sit now, pushing a charred brussel sprout around on your plate. 
“You know, sweetie, you have such a glow about you lately,” Monica coos from across the table. Her tone is all honey, but her eyes hold the sharpness of a blade. You resist the urge to roll your eyes anytime Monica uses terms of endearment toward you, as if her saccharine words could disguise the fact that she’s closer to your age than to her sexagenarian husband.
Still, you flush at implication. Is there a blinking sign floating over your head that reads I just got fucked so hard I saw stars, ask me about it?
“I’ve been getting out more lately,” you offer instead of the expletive laced response you really want to say. 
“I’ve noticed,” your father says, his tone carrying more irritation than interest. “I’ve also noticed you’ve been taking a lot of personal days at the office.”
He's not wrong. Ever since the day you’d woken up in the basement of the laundromat and had your entire world turned on its axis, something profound had shifted. Discovering that Vought—and by extension CytoGenix, too—likely bear responsibility for your mother’s death has a way of making intern projects feel laughably small. You figure that Adam and Emily have the menial lab experiments covered in your absence. 
Your father sets his knife down deliberately, licking his teeth before speaking. “I want you to take this seriously,” he says, his voice cool but weighty. “This isn’t just an internship—it’s the family name we’re talking about.”
Something about the scrape of Monica’s knife on the china grates on you, or maybe it’s the way you fucking hate brussel sprouts. Maybe it's your father's condescending tone and the fact that the family name has only ever brought you pain and misery. Perhaps it's the fact that all of you sitting here together now is a bastardization of a tradition your mother created in hopes that you'd have some semblance of a normal childhood.
“What about me, though?” The words spill out before you can stop them. “What about what I want?”
The room falls still. Monica freezes mid-cut, her fork hovering. Even you’re surprised at the sharpness in your own voice.
“Maybe you forgot, since you didn’t bother showing up to my graduation, but I majored in biology, not pharmacology or business. I never wanted to come back here, let alone do this internship. So excuse me if I miss a few days here and there, okay?”
The heat of your anger makes your face flush, sweat prickling at your spine. Across the table, Monica blinks, her expression unreadable. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she almost looked impressed.
But your father doesn’t yell, doesn’t slam his fists on the table like he did when you were younger. Instead, he does something that is perhaps even worse. He dismisses you, a loose hand wave and unaffected expression rendering your impassioned cry moot. The calm, detached response somehow cuts even deeper.
“Nonsense,” he says coolly. “Someone needs to take over the family business when I go, and if you ask my cardiologist he'll tell you that day isn't too far off.”
“Baby, don’t talk like that!” Monica gasps, her performative worry grating on your nerves. She turns to you. “Your dad’s been overseeing testing on a new heart medication in the labs—which you’d know if you bothered to show up.”
You zone out completely as the two of them bicker back and forth, about your father's health, about your insolence, and then eventually about frothy gossip they'd overheard during their recent outing to Le Bernardin. 
Your mind drifts.
What do you want? You’d chosen biology at Cambridge as a compromise, a way to avoid outright rebellion against your father’s wishes. Your mother used to tell you to go after what set your heart on fire, to never settle for anything that didn’t light you up inside. She always spoke as if your success was inevitable, like there was no version of reality where you wouldn’t do something extraordinary.
Only, maybe she'd never considered a reality in which her advice and listening ear no longer existed, where her very absence snuffed out that spark entirely.
What would she say about the Boys, about Butcher? She was a sensible lady, and classy, so it probably would have taken her some time to warm up to the idea of you cavorting around with a crew of vigilantes. Still, you want to believe that she would see the spirit with which you speak about them, the way you feel a million times more purpose scheming and spying in a dingy, dimly lit basement than you ever did sitting in a cubicle reading lab reports. You imagine her reaction to Butcher, her mother's instinct warning you to guard your feelings, and her inability to deny that you were glowing. 
You're pulled from your daydream when your ears perk up at something Monica says. “Sorry, what was that?” You ask. 
She examines you for a moment. “I said that production has been set back for a special product we've been making for Vought. There was an… unfortunate accident.” She spears her steak, her gaze dropping. “Ashley’s furious. They’re demanding a meeting.”
This time Monica is on the receiving end of your father's casual dismissal as he waves her off like a gnat. “I already spoke to her. Told her they can come to dinner at the Lakehouse. We’ll pour them some wine, ease the blow.”
Monica sets her jaw on edge. “It's going to take a lot of wine for this to go down smoothly, darling,” she says curtly. Her tone lowers. “The losses were huge, it's going to take years and billions to recoup—”
Your effort not to smile is Herculean.
Then your father’s voice cuts through. “I want you there,” he says.
You blink. “Me? Why?”
“You need to start familiarizing yourself with Vought if you’re going to take over. Think of it as a lesson in conflict resolution.” He chuckles, ignoring Monica’s pointed glare.
And, to everyone's surprise, you don't argue this. “Okay, I'll be there.” Your mind swirls with all the ways you can take advantage of this opportunity. 
You choke down the last brussel sprout before bouncing up, giving your dad a kiss on the cheek before you leave. 
“See? I told you she'd come around,” you hear him say before the door shuts behind you. 
~~~
You don’t bother going home after dinner. Instead, you head straight for the laundromat, the adrenaline from your dinner revelation buzzing in your veins.
The basement is alive with chatter as you burst through the door. MM, Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie greet you with a chorus of smiles and hellos, their faces lighting up at your excitement.
Butcher, on the other hand, freezes. He bolts upright from the couch as if you’d hit him with a stun gun, his wide eyes darting over your face. For a moment, it looks like he might say something, but his mouth clamps shut before finally settling on an awkward wave before returning to his usual seat on the couch. The others glance at him, puzzled by his bizarre reaction, but say nothing.
You don’t entirely blame him. It's the first time you've seen each other in the week since you slept together. The memory lingers sharper than you’d like to admit. The rest of the car ride home had passed in companionable conversation, punctuated by argument every time you wanted to pull over to take a picture of a cool looking tree or pretty sunset. By the time you pulled up in front of your apartment you were dead tired, asleep on your feet. But just as you turned to leave, Butcher squeezed your hand. “Be safe, alright?” he'd said, and you told him you would be. 
You thought about him that night when you touched yourself, something you've been making a bad habit of lately. You wondered if he might have been doing the same. 
None of that matters now. You’re here for a mission.
“I’ve got a lead,” you announce, diving into an explanation of the upcoming dinner and its potential as a goldmine for intel. Everyone is receptive, earning you a back pat from MM and a good job, ma poupette  from Frenchie. You can't deny the way their praise feels like sunlight on your face. 
Hughie chimes in. “You should wear a wire. We’ll be outside in the van, listening in. If anything goes sideways, we’ll be ready.”
You nod, reassured by the thought of their backup. Soon, they’re deep into planning—locations, entry and exit points, contingencies. You hang back, content to watch them work.
That’s when Butcher sidles up beside you.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks, voice low. “Privately.”
Your pulse quickens as you nod and follow him into a side room. He shuts the door behind you, and the air between you feels suddenly charged. You're embarrassed by how flustered you feel just by being so close to him again, like your body knows his and reacts involuntarily at the proximity. Your cheeks flush as you draw your eyes up to meet his, putting effort into controlling your breath. Did he want to discuss what happened again? Did he change his mind about this physical element of your relationship? Did he pull you into this room because he absolutely could not wait a second longer to tear your clothes off and have you again, right here, right now?
He interrupts your spiraling thoughts by pulling a manila envelope from his trench coat and shoving it into your hands.
“What’s this?” you ask, confused.
“Your mum’s autopsy report. The unredacted version,” he says, his voice unusually soft. “Had it smuggled out of Vought Tower.”
Your breath catches. You grip the envelope, your excitement from earlier replaced by a rising wave of guilt. How had you let yourself become so wrapped up in your feelings for him that you’d lost sight of why you were working together in the first place?
You start to pull the papers out, but his hand covers yours, stopping you.
“I’m warning you,” he says. “It’s not good.”
You nod, swallowing hard.
The words on the pages blur together at first, dense medical jargon making your head spin. Some of it is familiar, pulled from the sanitized version Vought had given you. But there are new phrases here, ones that jump out like knives.
Internal injuries consistent with a traumatic car accident or fall from a great height. 
No external injuries noted. 
Partial exsanguination. 
You shake your head. None of this makes sense. You were told that your mother was found in her apartment, like having fallen and slipped in the shower. You didn't have to be a medical examiner to know that a person wouldn't have such catastrophic injuries from a slip, couldn't bleed to death from a wound with no external injury. 
Your hands tremble as you flip to the final page, one you'd examined at length in the past. Your eyes fall to the Cause of Death header. As before, you see ‘accidental’ written beneath it. Except next to it, previously obscured by a thick, black redacting line, you find two letters. SR. 
“SR?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Butcher grimaces. “Supe-related. It means a Supe killed your mum.”
You suspected it, readied yourself for it, stayed up late at night agonizing about it. Yet, with the evidence in your hands now, finally real, you begin to tremble. There was no running from the fact that your mother had suffered, that she had been afraid in her last moments. What did she think when the Supe showed up at her apartment? Had she begged for her life? Had your father and Monica contracted with Vought to get your mother out of the picture?
Your legs give out beneath you, vision swimming. Before you meet the ground, strong arms catch you, wrapping around you. You're enveloped in Butcher's arms as he gently guides you both to the floor, pulling you in tighter as you rest against the wall. Your lungs heave in great, powerful bursts, awful croaking sobs escaping from deep inside you. You sob in the same way you did on the night you received the life-altering news, unabashed and involuntarily. Butcher says nothing as he rocks you back and forth, a large hand running up and down your back. He lets you get it all out, like he's been here, like he knows this pain all too well. When the sobs subside and your breathing steadies, he helps you to your feet, his hands lingering just long enough to ensure you’re steady. You wipe your eyes and manage a grateful glance, knowing that speaking would only unleash another torrent of tears.
Butcher steps back slightly, his hand lingering on your shoulder as if anchoring you to the moment. His face softens, guarded but undeniably tender. He clears his throat, glancing away before meeting your eyes again.
“I know what it’s like, you know,” he says, voice quieter than you’re used to. “To lose someone and not have the answers. To lie awake at night, over and over, trying to piece together the truth that everyone else seems happy to bury.”
You blink, surprised by his tone. “You’re talking about Becca?”
He shakes his head. “Not just Becca. My brother, Lenny.”
The name hangs in the air like a heavy weight. He exhales sharply, as though it physically pains him to say it.
“Lenny was... different from me,” he continues, the rough edge in his voice softening further. “He wasn’t like this.” He gestures vaguely at himself, the trench coat, the scowl, the hardened demeanor. “He was the better one. Gentle, kind. Always trying to keep me in line. He was... the only good thing left in my life, for a long time.”
You stay quiet, the gravity in his voice pulling you in.
“But I couldn’t protect him.” His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists. “He was dealing with his own demons, and I was too blind, too wrapped up in my own shit, to see what he needed. He...” Butcher’s voice falters, his words cracking. “He didn’t make it. Took his own life. And I’ve spent every day since wonderin’ if I could’ve stopped it, if I could’ve done somethin’ different.”
You reach out instinctively, your hand brushing against his arm, offering the same silent comfort he’d given you earlier.
“That’s why I’m telling you,” he says, looking at you with a rare vulnerability, his eyes sharp and glassy. “Whatever it takes, we’re going to get the bastard who did this to your mum. You’ve got my word. I’m not gonna let you go through this alone. Not like I did.”
His words ignite something deep inside you, a mixture of gratitude, determination, and pain. You nod, your voice unsteady but resolute. “We’ll get them. Together.”
Butcher’s lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he nods, the unspoken understanding between you solidifying like steel.
“Just promise me,” he adds, his voice rough again, “you don’t lose yourself in this. Revenge is a funny thing. It takes more than it gives. Trust me, I know.”
You swallow hard, hearing the weight of his warning but knowing, in your heart, that this path is the only one you can take.
“I’ll try,” you say, though you’re not sure if it’s a promise you can keep.
Butcher seems to hear it in your voice but doesn’t push. Instead, he straightens, his usual stoicism returning. “Get some rest,” he says, pulling his trench coat tighter around himself. “Big day tomorrow.”
As he walks toward the door, you glance at the manila envelope still clutched in your hands. The truth you’ve been searching for is finally laid bare, but it feels heavier than you ever anticipated.
Before he steps out, Butcher pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. For a moment, there’s something in his gaze, something soft and almost protective.
“You’re tougher than you think,” he says gruffly. “Don’t forget that.”
And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the truth and the ache of everything it means.
~~~
You're darting around your apartment in a short cotton bathrobe when three raps fall against your door in quick succession, alerting you to the arrival of Hughie and Butcher.
Thrusting the front door open, you barely greet the men before scurrying back upstairs. Dinner at the Lakehouse starts in an hour and a half. You're running late and you know it. 
“Make yourselves comfortable,” you shout over your shoulder, already halfway up the stairs to your loft.
Butcher steps inside first, glancing around the expansive living room with its vaulted ceilings and tastefully expensive decor. Though he’s been here once before, briefly, you can feel the weight of his presence in the space. Hughie follows, lingering awkwardly by the door as if afraid to touch anything.
“You sure this is just yours?” Hughie asks, his voice filled with awe as he surveys the plush furniture and abstract art pieces that probably cost more than his yearly salary.
“Doesn’t look like the digs of someone in our line of work, does it?” Butcher mutters, one eyebrow cocked as he gestures toward the oversized painting above your couch.
You cringe upstairs, pausing mid-search for your shoes. Do they know the painting cost a cool twenty grand? Do they know your father didn’t even blink when you charged it to his credit card?
The size and opulence of your apartment feel like an accusation, another reminder of the gulf between your world and theirs.
Pushing the thought aside, you turn to your reflection in the mirror. The maroon dress you’ve chosen clings to you like a second skin, fabric cascading over your hips and down your thighs to lightly skim the floor. The neckline rises to your collarbones, giving the illusion of modesty. It's what happens when you turn around that's worthy of a commotion; your back is bare save for delicate straps that criss-cross your back, dipping dangerously low beneath your waist, leaving little to the imagination. You’d be lying if you said you weren't looking a little forward to seeing Butcher's reaction.
Taking a steadying breath, you smooth the silk down your sides and make your way downstairs. The clack of your heels on the wooden steps draws their attention immediately. Hughie’s head snaps up, his mouth slightly agape before he quickly averts his gaze, his cheeks flushing.
Butcher, on the other hand, doesn’t bother to look away. His eyes rake over you, unapologetic, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and something darker, something you’re afraid to name. He doesn’t speak, but his jaw tightens, and for a moment, he seems rooted in place. His eyes burn a hole through you, jaw firmly remaining on the ground. It's as though he's never seen you naked, reduced to tears by his relentless—
Get a hold of yourself. 
“Wow,” Hughie stammers, standing abruptly. “Uh, you—wow, yeah, you look—”
“Thanks, Hughie,” you interrupt, sparing him further embarrassment.
He awkwardly holds up the wire and listening device, his hands trembling as he explains how it works, assuring you that you'll be safe and that they'll step in if anything goes sideways. You distantly wonder would cause this mission to go awry, and what exactly the Boys would do to help you. You nod along, your mind only half-focused on his words as he hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of threading the wire through your dress. You've grown quite comfortable around the guy, but it's hard to imagine how this couldn't be an awkward interaction. He frets, deeply uncomfortable manipulating your dress or touching your skin. 
“Uh, maybe you should—” Hughie stutters, gesturing vaguely toward you.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Butcher growls, snatching the wire from Hughie’s hands. “I’ll do it.”
Before you can protest, Butcher steps closer, the heat of his presence washing over you. He hands you the mic, his voice low and rough. “Stick this under your sternum.”
You do as he says, tucking it into place with trembling fingers. He takes the wire and, with surprising gentleness, pulls the side of your dress open where the straps criss-cross. His fingers brush your skin as he threads the wire through, and suddenly the air feels too thick to breathe.
His hands pause at your waist, his eyes lifting to meet yours. The smoldering intensity in his gaze steals the air from your lungs, your pulse pounding in your ears.
“This,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he reaches up to place the earpiece in your ear, “is so you can hear us in the van.”
 His eyes read wistfulness. Yours return the favour. 
The proximity, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek, sends shivers racing down your spine. You force yourself to stay still, fighting the instinct to lean into him, to close the infinitesimal distance between you. Your flesh reacts to his touch, his breath fanning on your face sending flutters down your spine. You inhale deeply, committing his warm scent to memory. It takes all your self-control not to reach out and touch his neck. 
Butcher lingers a moment too long, his eyes flicking to your lips before he catches himself. He pulls back abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets as if to hide their tremble.
Hughie clears his throat loudly, snapping you both back to reality. “Uh, so... ready to go?”
Your cheeks burn as you step back, smoothing your dress and avoiding Hughie’s curious gaze. “Yeah,” you mumble, grabbing your coat and clutch. “Let’s get this over with.”
Shit. You have no idea how to explain to Hughie what the fuck just happened between you and Butcher. You have no idea how to explain to yourself what the fuck just happened between you and Butcher. He said it was a one time thing, and you had agreed. So why did it feel like neither of you really meant that now?
You don't wait around to find out. Cheeks hot, you pull on a heavy wool coat and throw your keys in a clutch, mumbling to Hughie and Butcher that your car is waiting downstairs for you, the three of you hurrying out of the apartment. 
Your heart is racing, your cool utterly lost, and you haven't even started the mission yet. 
~~~
The Lakehouse is hardly a house at all. Perched on eight sprawling acres of pristine waterfront property, the six-bedroom estate is more like a luxury resort. It boasts a private beach, a boathouse, a fully staffed kitchen, and amenities that wouldn’t be out of place in a five-star hotel. This was supposed to be your childhood home, a place where your family would gather to escape the chaos of the city. But, of course, your father’s relentless ambition had other plans. Weekdays in the city turned into every week in the city, and the Lakehouse became little more than a backdrop for corporate schmoozing and high-stakes dealmaking.
You’ve only been here once since moving back, and that visit had been for a similarly uncomfortable dinner with grumpy shareholders. That’s how it works with your father. When he invites someone to the Lakehouse, it means he’s either wooing them or trying to quell a crisis. Tonight, it’s the latter.
The heated marble floors feel too smooth under your heels as you drift through the dark wood-paneled corridors, a ghost in your father’s world. The hum of conversation grows louder as you approach the atrium, a cavernous space filled with old money charm and new money ambition. When you step inside, the low murmur of voices barely shifts.
Your father, however, notices immediately. His face lights up as he strides over, announcing your presence to the room with an enthusiasm that feels both practiced and performative. You’re greeted with nods and distracted glances from the scattered groups of investors, politicians, and Vought executives who occupy the space.
You paste on a polite smile and glide into the crowd, the maroon silk of your dress flowing like water around your frame. The fabric clings in all the right places, and you’re acutely aware of how much the dress is working in your favor tonight. You flit from one conversation to the next, exchanging hollow pleasantries with anyone willing to give you the time of day.
“Yes, I’m his daughter.”“No, I don’t work for CytoGenix yet, just shadowing.”“Of course, I’m honored to follow in his footsteps.”
You parrot the answers you know they want to hear, offering carefully crafted tidbits about your life in exchange for half-hearted words of encouragement or patronizing nods.
“So,” one executive asks, swirling his glass of whiskey, “you’ll be running CytoGenix one day, huh?”
You want to tell him you’d rather set the place on fire and dance on the ashes. Instead, you laugh, a soft, practiced sound, and offer some noncommittal response that earns an approving chuckle.
After thirty agonizing minutes, you can’t take it anymore. Your smile feels brittle, your cheeks sore from holding it in place. Excusing yourself with a vague promise to freshen up, you slip out of the atrium and into the cool night air.
The back terrace is wide and expansive, the kind of place meant for grand parties or quiet reflection. Tonight, it acts as your refuge. You pull your heavy coat tighter around your shoulders as you step to the edge, your heels clicking softly against the stone.
The view is breathtaking. The lake stretches out before you, the surface calm and glassy, reflecting the fiery reds and burnt oranges of the setting sun. The horizon blurs in the distance, where the vibrant sky meets the still water. The crisp fall air fills your lungs, sharp and invigorating, cutting through the lingering tension from the evening.
For a moment, you let yourself exhale fully, allowing the facade to fall away. Out here, there are no prying eyes, no hollow pleasantries, no suffocating expectations. Just the quiet lap of water against the shore and the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze.
You grip the stone railing and gaze out at the horizon, wondering if this is what your father feels when he’s here, if he ever lets himself feel anything at all. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you’re only here for one reason: to play your part. But the thought lingers like a shadow, just out of reach, as the sun dips below the horizon and the lake fades into twilight.
Your serenity is interrupted when the terrace door opens with a creak. You swear under your breath at the unwelcome intrusion. 
“Hey there sweetheart,” a voice beckons out behind you. Instead of the warmth you’d normally feel at this kind of greeting, you find the hair at the back of your neck standing on end, unsettled to your core. Your stomach tightens, and you hear Butcher’s muttered curse in your earpiece.
You turn, finding Homelander closing the door behind him, joining you on the balcony. 
“Homelander.” You turn, keeping your tone neutral, but your heart beats louder in your chest. "Enjoying the evening?"
He steps onto the balcony, closing the door behind him, his gaze tracing you with that predatory intensity that sends a ripple of discomfort through your veins. “Indeed I am.” He eyes you up and down, slow and deliberate, his words syrupy and laced with an unsettling warmth. “Enjoying the view even more.”
“Fuckin' prick,” Butcher growls under his breath through the earpiece.
You offer a strained smile, your pulse quickening despite yourself. “The lake’s amazing this time of year,” you say, grasping at the first thing that pops into your mind, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.
Homelander takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Not as incredible as you,” he says with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His hand rests on your waist, and you recoil instinctively, every nerve in your body screaming to move, to get away. “You’re something special, you know that?” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping, “I’ve had my eye on you all night.”
A burst of anger flashes in Butcher’s voice. “I’m gonna kill him,” he hisses, but you can hear the strain in his words—he knows he can’t act just yet.
You swallow. Despite your knowledge of who he is, what he is capable of, you're not immune to his charisma. The quasi-genuine emotion in his voice is almost believable, bombarding your defenses. You stiffen against him, clutching onto the balcony railing like it might save you. 
Your stomach churns as Homelander's fingers curl possessively around your waist. Your muscles stiffen, but you stand your ground, ignoring the dread welling inside you. “I was just heading back inside,” you mutter, the tension radiating from your body palpable. You try to sidestep, but his hand snaps out, gripping your wrist in an iron hold, pulling you back toward him.
“No need for that, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low, with a dangerous edge. “Don’t tell me those perky tits and round ass are gonna go to waste.”
“Enough, I'm going in,” Butcher's voice cracks through your earpiece, barely holding back the fury in his words. “No!” Hughie chirps, eliciting jumbled groans from Butcher. If he thinks he's disgusted listening to it, he should try hearing it spoken directly into his ear. 
You press your palm to the cool railing, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, the air thick with tension. You take stock of the situation, calculating your next move. The terrace is isolated, the fall air too cool for the partygoers inside. No one would hear you if you screamed right now. Still, your proximity to the party would prevent Homelander from doing anything too egregious. He may be sociopathic and narcissistic, but he's not stupid. He can't hurt you, at least not right now. 
Your mind races as you swallow the vile words bubbling up. It’s your turn now. You meet his gaze head-on, your voice barely shaking. “Back off, asshole,” you say, each word dragging itself from your throat with the kind of anger you’ve been keeping locked inside for months. “Step the fuck off.”
The world feels suspended for a heartbeat, and then another. You brace yourself for whatever comes next—the snap of your wrist, the rush of air as he lifts you into the sky—but all you hear is his shallow, ragged breath. He doesn’t move.
To your utter shock, he lets go of you. Only his hand remains, grasped around your wrist. You turn to face him. 
You feel the anger roll off of him in waves, concentrated and palpable. You fight to keep your breathing even as you contend with the electricity falling off of him, a live wire spinning out behind you. 
“You know who my father is,” you state, voice calm and even once again. “You don't want to do this.”
“That fuckin’ bastard is getting a bullet—”
His face falls, menacing energy leaking out of him. You feel the malicious energy exuding from his very being, every nerve in his body wanting to hurt you in this very moment, the barest thread tying him to reality.
Please, you think. Give Butcher a reason to run in here. Let him save me. 
He holds onto you, fist tightening around your wrist painfully. He gazes up at you, unnaturally blue eyes pleading. 
“I'm going in. I don't fucking care I’m going,” Butcher crackles into your ear. 
“Stop,” you say, simultaneously to Butcher and Homelander. “Just walk away.”
For a moment, the tension is unbearable. But then, to your shock, both men stand back. Butcher's voice fades from within your ear. Homelander takes a step backward, though it’s not out of mercy, but rather a calculation. A predator retreating from its cunning prey. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t reach for you again.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice almost too smooth. He turns away from you with a languid motion, desperately trying to coax his boner away. 
You swallow the bile rising in your throat and steel yourself. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”  
You stare up at him, daring him to act up even a little bit. His eyes are lifeless, shark-like. He doesn't move. 
His smile is a razor. “Sure.”
You take a breath, then turn, letting the distance grow between you. “I really need to get back to my dad,” you mutter, your voice almost too casual as you slip past him and back inside.  
You slip back inside, the warmth of the party pressing against you. Your footfalls echo against the wood panelled walls, softening the jagged edges of your inhaled breaths. You pause for a second, ensuring he isn't following you, before ducking back into the dinner party. 
~~~
Dinner is served: Filet mignon, perfectly seared, accompanied by a side of Catalonian salad. 
It takes all of your energy not to tear into the meal, desperately trying to recall your brief time spent at finishing school in your teens. An array of assorted cutlery borders your meal; you select what you hope to god is the correct fork.
The minutes stretch on in blessed silence, the clink of cutlery and soft murmurs as everyone devours the fresh seafood. Cloth napkins flutter delicately to dab at dribbles of butter staining chins.
“A toast,” Ashley says, cutting through the meal’s quiet indulgence. “I'd like to extend Vought's gratitude toward the Morgans tonight for this lovely get together,” she raises her wine glass, all of the partygoers offering theirs up in the toast. She raises her glass in a practiced gesture, and everyone follows suit, toasting dutifully before draining their drinks.
When she speaks again her expression is serious. “But,” she continues, her tone now sharp, “I'd like to discuss the status of V2. After the recent attack, our shareholders are understandably concerned.”
Monica stands from the table, patronizing smile plastered on her face. “Ashley,” she begins, flashing a disingenuous smile, “We so appreciate your condolences on CytoGenix’s recent loss of two beloved security guards. May they rest in peace.” Her hand presses to her chest in exaggerated grief, screwing her eyes shut in mock sincerity.
You scoff quietly, wondering how someone so transparent in their deceit made it this far in the industry. How did your father fall for her when your mother was right there?
She continues. “What happened was a freak accident. V2 remains a well-guarded secret. We can assure you that CytoGenix is fast at work replacing all of the destroyed product.”
The room erupts into hushed murmurs, sidelong glances communicating dissatisfaction with Monica's response. She's trying desperately to downplay what happened, what you did, and she's failing miserably. 
“Monica, as an executive at both Vought and CytoGenix, I'm a little concerned about your nonchalance. Are you not concerned about the loss of 13 billion dollars in profits here?” Ashley’s voice is measured but biting, her sharp gaze trained on Monica without faltering.
Monica's face falls ever so slightly. It's barely perceptible, but you notice the infinitesimal twitch in her smile, the twinkle dying in her eyes. The energy in the room shifts as the din of cutlery and small talk silence. The two women stare each other down. Electric tension crackles around the room. 
Then, the squeak of a chair as it’s pushed back snaps you from your thoughts. You’re caught off guard when your father rises from his seat, one hand raised in an almost theatrically calm gesture.
“Ladies, please,” he says, a placating smile on his face. “I am willing to put my name and reputation on the line here to tell all of you,” he makes a sweeping gesture to the room, “CytoGenix is committed to ensuring favorable outcomes for everyone sitting at this table. I have taken on the responsibility of guarding the remaining vials myself. The future of V2 rests under my watchful eye.” His chest erupts in a hearty chuckle, as though it was silly that anyone doubted his company's ability to make money. A laugh that threatened danger if it was not met with a positive response. 
As if on cue, everyone devolves into soft laughter, like the room itself has exhaled collectively. Stanley Morgan, ever the consummate politician. Ability to command a room unmatched, he basks in the light chatter of the relieved guests. 
Sometimes your father's power scares you. Times like right now. 
You find an excuse to leave once dinner is finished, feigning sleepiness to avoid being dragged into the inevitable dessert round with the insufferable business crowd. As you pull on your coat, your father crosses the room and gives you a quick, almost absent hug. He presses a kiss to your hairline, the gesture so fleeting, so routine, but for a moment, you feel a flicker of something you can’t quite place.
“Stay safe, kiddo. I love you,” he says, and for a moment you forget. So you pretend. 
You pretend that you just had a normal weekly dinner with him and your mom, just like old times. You pretend that she's just in the other room, finishing up the whipped toppings for her favorite dessert, key lime pie. You pretend that your father always tells you that he loves you, that he doesn't save it for occasions when he's drunk and you've finally done something that makes him proud. 
You hug him back. You tell him you love him too. 
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canisalbus · 1 year ago
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Just wanted to tell you that your recent art of Machete looking after Vasco while he's sick reminded me of Nights at the Villa by Gogol. Only a small fragment of it survived, probably because it's straight up author's diary about falling in love for the first time with a man who is already dying. It's such a beautiful little piece and your art really reminded me of it's vibes. Anyway, I'm mentally ill about russian literature and I love your dogs <3
The longing and lamenting quite something, poor guy.
It's not very long so I'm just going to put the whole thing under the cut ->
They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!
-
I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.
"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me." "My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!" My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!
"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then… what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods… no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.
"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.
-
At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.
"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words. "My angel! Did you miss me?" "Oh, how I missed you." He replied. I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.
He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed. My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes. He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."
"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".
I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.
How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.
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shychick-52 · 20 days ago
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I'm sorry, but can we talk about how when Cedric escaped from the dungeon in 'Day of the Sorcerers' when he and Sofia learned that Grimtrix had invaded (to see why Cedric apparently hadn't frozen the royal family and seized control of Enchancia yet, since he wasn't showing up in Grimtrix's crystal ball, and to make sure he did finish the job), he was fully prepared to do whatever he could to stop Grimtrix without a wand?
*After Sofia tells Cedric that everything he ever did for her proved he was both a great sorcerer and a great friend, and Cedric remorsefully told her how sorry he was for betraying her*
Guards to each other: An evil wizard is attacking the castle!
Sofia: *to Cedric* I've got to go! *rushes out of the dungeon to go try to help her family*
Wormwood: Excellent! Grimtrix will get us out of here!
Cedric: No, Wormy. We will get ourselves out! *smashes Wormwood's cage and orders him to fetch the keys, then charges after Sofia as fast as he could*
Roland had taken his wand, but he didn't let that stop him. His immediate instinct was to get out of the dungeon and save Sofia and her family, no matter what! Not only that, but Cedric had no way of protecting himself (because you just know that if Cedric didn't cleverly trick him into thinking he was still onboard with seizing the throne so that he could turn his own Medusa Stone on him, Grimtrix would have frozen him for being a traitor), but his own safety was nothing compared to theirs. It was time for him to make up for his horrible mistake, prove (including to himself) what being a Royal Sorcerer was all about, and be the great sorcerer and friend Sofia still saw in him! What a real man!! PROTECTIVE, LOYAL CEDRIC IS MY FAVORITE, YA'LL.
It reminds me of the song in the 'Forever Royal' finale- For One and All- when Cedric and the rest of the family joined Sofia in going to risk their lives to save the kingdom, even tho the odds were against them. As the Royal Sorcerer, it was Cedric's sworn duty to stand alongside the royal family and protect both them and the kingdom! My friend recently said that that part in 'Forever Royal' cemented his loyalty to the royal family, but hurrying to confront Grimtrix in 'Day of the Sorcerers' was when he officially turned over a new leaf (and at that moment, Cedric technically was no longer even the Royal Sorcerer, since Roland had him arrested; he had nothing left to lose, since he ruined his own life, and one last chance to give everything... which made Cedric's actions even more impressive)!
In fact, I analyzed this in a flashback scene about in my story Never More:
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@fantadym @sweetmariihs2 @omgselinabeckendorf @tookishcombeferre
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kyleoreillylover · 1 year ago
Text
Show, Don’t Tell 📸
Sami Zayn x Fem!Black!Reader x Jey Uso
Summary: You finally snap and betray the very man you helped build up-Roman Reigns, and Sami and Jey want to help you pick up the pieces. But it's easier said than done, and with the rich history between the two of you, you understandably don't want to listen to a word they have to say. But Jey and Sami decide that to fully get through to you, they have to show you-rather than tell you-how much they love you.
warnings: smut!! threesome, angst to smut to fluff. word count: 15,895 tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius
a/n: I finally gave in and wrote a samijey fanfic because they are just so cute and hot and cute and pretty and ughh!! I'm a sucker for both of them, especially for sami, just look at him 🥹 Hope ya'll enjoy this!
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incoming text from unknown number: i saw what happened. just want you to know i’m here for you. me and jey are here for you. hope ur okay.
outgoing text to unknown number: leave me alone.
incoming text from unknown number: okay, icing me out, using your typical defense mechanisms. clearly you’re not okay. and i'm gonna make sure you are, whether you like it or not. 
outgoing text to unknown number: seriously, fuck off.
incoming text from unknown number: i didn’t give up on jey, you really think i’m gonna give up on you? i’m saving you from yourself, because i care for you. see you later. <3
You let out a huff as you shut off your phone for good and pocketed it, the city skylines passing by as your uber drove through the bustling streets. The moon shined down on the city, casting shadows that danced along the buildings. You leaned back in your seat, trying to push away the memories of the night as your mind raced with conflicting emotions. Hurt. Pain. Suffocation.
All those feelings swirled within you, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
You scratched at your skin, feeling the restlessness creeping in, the pain grounding you in a way. The Uber pulled up to your hotel, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air against your face.
You finally did it. You betrayed the man who you helped build up, who helped you both get to the top of the industry, your own best friend.
And you couldn't feel more sick.
The weight of your actions bore down on your shoulders, the guilt twisting in your gut as you entered the hotel lobby. The receptionist offered a polite smile, but you barely acknowledged it as you headed straight for the elevator.
Acknowledge. You scoffed, feeling like the last thing you wanted to do was acknowledge anything or anyone at the moment. Everything was like a reminder of him. A reminder of how you had let him use you, and it felt like a knife twisting in your heart.
As the elevator doors slid open, you stepped inside and pressed the button for the 2nd floor. The soft hum of the elevator did little to soothe the turmoil inside you. Each passing second felt like an eternity as you ascended, thoughts racing, memories flashing before your eyes.
The doors pinged open, and you walked down the hallway, the click of your shoes on the polished floor echoing in the silence. You walked across the hall and opened the door to the bar, ready to find some solace in a drink or to avoid your problems- and the one person who you knew was trying to find you. The low hum of conversations and clinking glasses drowned out your emotions momentarily.
You slid onto a barstool, the cool wood offering a brief distraction from the whirlwind in your mind. The bartender approached, a friendly smile on their face.
"What can I get for you tonight?" they asked, wiping down the counter.
You hesitated, your mind still reeling. "Something strong, god knows I need it." you murmured, your voice barely audible over the ambient noise.
The bartender nodded knowingly and began to prepare a drink. You didn't offer a smile when she set down the glass in front of you, the amber liquid reflecting the dim lights of the bar. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your fingers around the glass, the coldness seeping into your skin.
Just like the chill in your heart.
Everything felt cold. The air. Your skin. Your soul. Your mind.
You took a sip of the strong drink, the burning sensation down your throat momentarily distracting you from the chaos in your mind. But it was a fleeting respite. The bitter taste lingered, mirroring the bitterness that consumed your thoughts. You brushed a strand of your curly hair from your face, trying to focus on anything but the mess that your life had become, the mess you had become.
You weren't supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be untouchable, strong, always in control. successful, strong, and in control. But now, sitting at that bar, you felt none of those things. Even though you finally took control, you felt like everything was spiraling out of your grasp. Every sip of the drink brought a mix of numbness and a sharp sting of reality.
You didn't know how long you were sitting there, but you know you eventually got bored of sitting alone in the bar, drowning in your thoughts and the bitter taste of the drink that did little to ease your pain. You knew you had to eventually get up, relish in the fact that you have some kind of control left in your life, and that started by facing the man who you wanted nothing more from then for him to finally leave you alone.
Your keycard dinged as you approached your room door, the soft sound echoing in the hallway. With a heavy sigh, you slid the keycard into the lock and pushed open the door.
"You finally stopped avoiding me?" A familiar voice called out from the room, interrupting your thoughts.
"Fuck off." You replied coldly, slipping off your jacket and settling it over a chair.
"I told you, being mad won't make me leave you alone," You turned to the voice, and locked eyes with the chocolate-brown eyes you loved to hate. Or tried to hate.
Sami sat on the edge of the bed, a concerned look etched onto his face you'd grown used to. His usually wild hair was tamer than usual, and the dim lights of the room illuminated the weariness in his expression. He looked tired, but his eyes held a determination you couldn't ignore.
"How did you get in here?" You ignored his words, your voice laced with frustration.
Sami sighed, standing up and taking a step closer. "Bianca gave me your keycard. She was worried about you too."
You clenched your jaw, feeling the anger simmering beneath your skin. "You two need to learn how to mind your own business."
"You can yell at her after you're done yelling at me," Sami's words made you pause, and he continued, his tone softer, more earnest. "I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But you're also hurting, and I want to help."
You scoffed, the bitterness in your voice unmistakable. "I don't need your help. What I need is for you to leave me alone and get the hell out of my room, and get the hell out of my life."
Sami took a step closer, ignoring your cold tone. "Maybe you don't need it, but you deserve it."
You glared at Sami, frustration bubbling within you at his persistence. Why wouldn't he just leave you alone? "I deserve to have a moment alone to myself, not have you out of all people suffocating me! Let's make this short and sweet. I don't care what you have to say, so leave me alone!"
Sami didn't listen to you- in fact he came closer to you, his gaze softening as he closed the distance between you. "You might not care for what I have to say, but you'll care for what he has to say."
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before your eyes widened in realization and anger. "Sami…You didn't-"
"He did."
Your head whipped around at the sound of the new voice, freezing as you saw Jey standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a conflicted expression on his face. His presence in that moment was both a comfort and a stab in the heart that still held him dear to you.
"What are you doing here?" you snapped, feeling a surge of emotions you couldn't quite place. Confusion, anger, hurt, and something else you didn't want to acknowledge.
Jey pushed himself off the door frame, his eyes locking onto yours. "I needed to talk to you. Sami let me in."
"Well, I don't want to talk to you," you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.
Jey winced at your words, taking a step into the room. "Then just listen to me."
"You really think I wanna listen to anything you have to say?" Your eyes were red with emotion as you tried to keep your composure. Sami's heart beaten with guilt as he looked at your fallen face, but he knew if he wanted to get through to you he was gonna have to bring the big guns- and that was Jey.
"I saw what happened tonight." Jey started, trying to settle the atmosphere with his calm, honey sweet voice, but you weren't having any of it.
"Good," you retorted, bitterness lacing your tone. "The same thing I did to Roman might happen to you if you don't leave me alone."
Jey winced at the the mention of Roman, his expression pained, He took another step forward, his eyes pleading. "
"I know how you're feeling."
You laughed bitterly, and the sound faded into the air like a haunting melody. "You have no idea how I'm feeling."
"I know you feel like you are sick to stomach, like you've betrayed someone you cared about." Jey spoke softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding. "I know because I've been there too. I know what it's like to be torn between loyalty and doing what's right."
Your fists clenched at your sides, your emotions churning inside you. "Of course you know that! All you do is feel sorry for yourself and play the victim card, and I'm sick of it! I've been sick of it since you left The Bloodline, and you clearly haven't changed a bit since then."
You moved to the counter, putting some distance between yourself and Jey, trying to shield yourself from the flood of emotions his presence evoked. You needed to get them both the hell outta here before tings got messier than they already were.
Jey flinched at your words, hurt flashing across his features. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I'm asking for a chance to explain."
"There's nothing to explain!" Your voice rose in frustration, the whirlwind of emotions spinning out of control. "You chose your path. You walked away from everything we had built together. And now you have the audacity to show up here and act like you have any right to speak to me?"
Jey's expression shifted from hurt to anger, and he walked over to you, his eyes glaring at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "And what was I supposed to do? Stay and let Roman control me? Control us? I made my choice, and it's the same choice you made tonight, so don't act like you're any different than me."
Your breath caught in your throat, his words striking a nerve. You glared back, trying to mask the vulnerability that threatened to spill over. "I didn't ask for your opinion."
Jey chuckled at you, the sound hollow and bitter. "There you go again, deflecting shit when things get too real. You shut people out instead of facing the truth." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm not here to make excuses. I'm here to make things right."
You stared at him, his words echoing in your mind. You couldn't deal with this right now. You couldn't deal with your emotions threatening to pour out right now. Sami- you could hold him off for a moment, but Jey's presence alone cracked through your defenses. You felt the walls you had built around yourself crumbling, and it terrified you.
"I don't want your apologies," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want you both to leave."
Sami stepped forward, his expression softer but still determined. "Please, just listen to him."
You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed. The alcohol had dulled the edges of your emotions, but facing both Sami and Jey in that moment was a stark reminder of everything you were trying to suppress. "No. I'm going to bed, and I expect both of you to leave as soon as I go to my room."
You made a move to push past them, but Jey's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. His touch was unexpected, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked at his hand, then slowly raised your gaze to meet his intense, conflicted eyes.
"I ain't letting you leave." Jey's voice was harsh yet pleading, and his eyes were the same as he stared at you, almost begging for your understanding. "I know I hurt you, but I couldn't let Roman's control consume me. And I can't let it consume you either."
You tried to pull your hand away, your voice filled with frustration. "Let go of me, Jey. I'm not doing this."
Sami stepped closer, a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently in a comforting gesture, as if trying to squeeze out the tension between the three of you. "Please, just hear us out. You can even slam the door on our faces after. You don't even have to talk, you just have to listen."
You glared at Sami, his touch only adding to your frustration. "I said I'm fine. I don't need either of you here."
Jey's grip on your wrist tightened slightly, not in a forceful way, but enough to make you stop and look at him. His eyes were searching yours, the intensity in them reflecting his inner turmoil. "Then why haven't you kicked us already? If you really wanted us gone, you woulda been called security on us."
You hesitated at his words. They were right. You could've easily made a scene and had them removed from your room, but something stopped you. A part of you wanted them to stay, to hear them out, even though you were fighting against it with every fiber of your being. But you were fighting it with all your might, trying to maintain control over a situation that was slipping further away.
"I don't owe you an explanation." Your voice was cold, but your face was betraying the facade you were desperately trying to uphold between the two men who knew you better than you knew yourself.
Jey released your wrist, but the weight of his touch lingered. "You don't owe us anything. But maybe, just maybe, you owe it to yourself."
His words echoed in your mind, the emotions within you intensifying. You turned away from both of them, gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady yourself.
Sami's hand left your shoulder, and you heard him move closer. "Tonight, you finally took a stand for yourself. You stood up against something that was suffocating you, just like Jey did. I know it feels like the world's crashing down on you right now, but you did what you thought was right."
You scoffed, feeling the turmoil within you reaching a breaking point. "You have no idea how I feel! You have no idea what it's like to feel like everything you 've built is crumbling around you!" You pushed Sami's chest away, turning to face them both with a cold stare. "You had a choice, Sami. You walked away, with no consequences. But I have to face these emotions myself. I have to face the man I created myself. Unlike you, I am not weak!"
You turned to Jey and pointed a finger at him accusingly as you continued. "And you. You're right."
Jey gazed at you, and it was as if you could see the hurt that ran rampant in his eyes, his lips twisted into a frown. And he knew you were feeling the same thing, no matter how hard you were trying to hide it. "You had to do what you had to do with Roman. Be your own man. But guess what, it was too late! Cause where was that man when I needed him the most?" You gestured wildly at your surroundings. "You were gone! Roman asks you once and you answer to him, no questions asked. And I had to pick myself off the ground while you acted like everything was okay when you chose him over me!"
Yeah, you and Jey were in a relationship , you had feelings for each other, known each other for years and had been close friends, the romantic and sexual tension that existed between the both of you was undeniable. And when you both finally made that leap and got into a relationship behind Roman's back and Roman found out, he told the both of you that relationships would distract you both in the factions, and then told Jey he was just looking out for you and that you wouldn't make the right choice-but he would, and that's to just be friends or else.
Jey heeded his warning and ended things between the two of you-saying he didn't want Roman to hurt the both of you- but you were already hurt by him, and hurt by Jey the most. Jey didn't even realize he was actually playing into Roman's control, but when he finally saw the light, it was too late, you had started building yourself back up without him. If he wanted to be friends, then he would get what he wanted, but it wouldn't be the same. But you would never let yourself be hurt like that again.
And then, when he left the Bloodline, you cut off all contact. You didn't get the chance to voice your feelings because everything fell apart in the blink of an eye, so you wouldn't let him know your true feelings unless it was forced on you.
But Jey had never gotten the message. He kept coming back, and coming back, and so did Sami, and you were sick of it. You were sick of their constant appearances, sick of their stupid faces always trying to comfort you, and most of all you were sick of yourself for letting them affect you this way. So you thought being mean would be enough, you thought keeping everyone at arms length would keep you safe, keep you sane… It never worked. Every time they showed up, and they were supposed to leave you alone, they'd somehow find their way back, making you question what was truly important to you…
And now, staring into their eyes, after you finally snapped on the man who you called your best friend after months of verbal manipulation and abuse, you felt the walls crumbling all around you. You felt the tension you had been holding onto all these months finally crackling into a raging fire inside you, a fire which you hoped Jey and Sami could finally quench. But instead they seemed to have ignited even more.
"I didn't chose him over you." Jey spoke softly, and his eyes were even softer as he gazed at you. You felt that fire inside you again, burning brighter now, hotter and stronger than before. "I chose to protect you. And now, you have to choose the same thing for yourself."
You closed your eyes briefly as you fought the feelings and tension you always felt when you were around them. The heat that rose inside you threatened to burn you from the inside out. But you refused to give in. There was too much pain running through your veins to allow you to fall to pieces right in front of them.
The silence that filled the room was deafening, until it was finally broken by Sami. "Look, you can be as snarky as you want, you can insult us as much as you want, but that won't change the fact that when I look into your eyes, I see someone who needs my help." Sami hesitantly came closer to you- his brown eyes boring into yours. “Someone who's lost everything, and has nothing but hope left. That's not you. And if you continue to run away from this-"
You scoffed, cutting him off, not wanting to listen anymore to whatever he was going to say. You couldn't give in to them.
"Just stop! Just fucking stop! Stop acting like you care about me, or about me, or about us. Just… just stop!" Tears welled in your eyes, and it made you want to scream. The tension grew so strong, you thought your head was going to explode. You felt the walls collapsing, the flames starting to lick at your skin.
Jey shook his head, taking a step forward towards you. "Are you tryna convince us or yourself? Cause all your doing is deflecting, deflecting, deflecting, acting like we ain't know every inch of you and what makes you tick, what drives you crazy."
His voice was loud, commanding, hot, and demanding, causing the temperature in the entire room to skyrocket. "Acting like we ain't know you're just tryna make us mad so we'll just leave, well get this through your fucking skull-we ain't gonna go anywhere, we are staying here whether you like it or not. Cause we fucking care about you! Because we 're here for you! We're gonna help you and show you that you fucking deserve everything good in this world, you deserve the best, you deserve us!”
His eyes were filled with a fire that matched yours that made your body heat up even more his voice low yet so demanding, his words harsh yet so caring. “Now, you gon' sit there, and tell us that you don't need help, you don't wanna accept our help because you think its weakness or somethin'? Well, that's just bullshit, baby. And we ain't gonna stand by and watch as you try to pretend like everything's fine when its not!"
Your eyes were blown wide, watching Jey take another step forward, anger blazing bright in his eyes. The heat radiating off of him, making your body heat up even further. You swallowed roughly, unable to speak, unable to process what you were hearing. A tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek.
You didn't bother wiping it away.
But Sami did.
His gentle touch wiped away the falling tear, bringing your attention towards his concerned expression. His beautiful brown eyes stared deeply into your eyes, looking straight past the facade you were putting up. Sami wasn't fooled, and neither was Jey.
"Please, sweetheart. Stop lying to yourself." His deep voice whispered soothingly, his face inches away from yours. "Stop lying to us. Let yourself be free." His lips were inches away from yours, and the walls you had built so tightly were slowly fading into dust.
You looked up into his soft eyes, and you knew exactly what they were saying. You knew exactly what he was thinking. "Let yourself be happy."
You didn't know what it was about those words, but they broke something inside of you, shattered the tug and war you were doing with your mind and heart, and you finally listened to your heart and pulled Sami down into a kiss.
He immediately responded and wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. It was soft. It was sweet. It was everything you craved from him, and all you've ever wished he would do for you. It ended as fast as it started, and you pulled away, only just barely managing to hold in a whimper. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you knew that you were shaking. Sami soothingly rubbed your trembling back, trying his best to calm you down, but it just caused you to shiver.
"It's okay. You're okay." He whispered soothingly into your ear. He brought his hand up, caressing your face gently. "We got you babe, I promise." He said to reassure you.
You looked up, and your eyes flickered to Jey, who stood by the door watching you intently. His intense gaze made your skin heat up with yearning and lust. Your heart caught in your throat when he moved from the door and approached you. His presence seemed to fill your entire being, and you couldn't pull your gaze away from him.
He stopped just in front of you, and you could feel the tension and tension between the three of you growing thicker by the second. He slowly raised his hand, his thumb gently trailing along your jaw. You couldn't breathe, couldn't move. All you could do was watch as he leaned down, his lips so so close to yours.
"I will always love you, and this time, I'ma choose you for good." He breathed. And with that, his lips met yours.
The warmth and love pouring into you so strong, you were afraid you would melt. You loved him. And you knew he loved you, and the moment you felt it, you felt it with all your might despite your anger, and it made the walls inside you crumble once again.
Your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling themselves into the strands, and you kissed him back, desperate for more. You needed more. You needed him.
You missed how he smiled against your mouth. And you missed how his hands found their way to your lower back, pushing you flush against him, his fingertips grazing the skin under your shirt. And you missed how you weren't able to break apart long enough to breathe.
It felt like hours until Jey finally broke this kiss, panting slightly. His breath brushed against the side of your neck, sending tingles throughout your body.
His hands slid down the small of your back, grabbing each of your hips, holding you firmly against him. His warm breath tickled your skin, and you couldn't help but gasp lightly when his teeth grazed your collarbone. "Since you don't wanna listen to us talk about how we love you, we gon' show you how much we love you instead."
He nipped your collarbone again, letting out a pleased groan at your reaction. One of his hands slid up to cradle the side of your face, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Your eyes fluttered shut, savouring the feeling of his lips on yours. You missed being held. You wanted to be held. You wanted to be loved.
But you also knew that you couldn't let yourself be selfish. Not now. Not after everything you had done. So you pushed him away, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. "No." You whispered, your voice hoarse. "I can't."
"Shh.." Sami interrupted you gently with a finger to your lips. "Don't push us away again. Not yet."
His lips met yours as Jey's sucked on your neck, making you arch your back and moan softly, the sound echoing around the quiet room. You felt Sami's hand creep up your shirt, stroking your thigh, and you whimpered, feeling his tongue slip into your mouth, kissing you with fervor that made you melt . Your hands trailed over his muscular chest, and you sighed as his hands slid around to your ass, squeezing it slightly before pulling away, looking deep into your eyes.
"You are worth so much more than anyone thinks." A whisper. And your knees almost gave in to his soft tone.
You yelped when Jey pulled you up with his muscular arm around your waist, picking you up bridal style as you squealed in excitement, wrapping your legs around his waist and clinging onto him for dear life. Sami smirked, wrapping one arm around Jey's shoulder as Jey picked you up bridal style, carrying you out of the room and towards your bedroom.
"You didn't have to carry me." You whined lightly into his ear, biting back another smile as he laughed softly, setting you down on the bed and leaning down to place a soft kiss to your neck again.
"And have you run away from us? I ain't letting that happen." He sucked on your sweet spot right underneath your ear, eliciting an immediate moan of pleasure that made you bite on your bottom lip, trying to hold it in. Jey chuckled and nipped at your neck once again, sucking on the tender flesh.
The bed dipped, and you turned around quickly, watching as Sami pulled his top off and crawled over to you and Jey. He climbed onto the bed, his eyes never leaving you and Jey, his lips curving up into a grin.
His grin widened when you pushed Jey off of you gently and sat up, taking off your shirt as well. Sami watched, his eyes trailing every inch of your body as your muscles tensed as you removed your bra, exposing your breasts, and your nipples hardened instantly in the cool air. He licked his lips and Jey had a wicked smile on his face as his panting intensified at the sight, and you smirked at him through a seductive grin, running your fingers through your hair and turning around to look back up at them, giving them a sexy wink.
"You said you were gonna show me how much you loved me. Was that just talk or are you gonna back it up?" You asked teasingly, uncrossing your legs and taking off your pants in one go.
They both grinned back, standing from the bed and taking off their clothes before moving to climb on top of you, hovering over you, their large and powerful bodies covering most of yours. The height difference was evident, but you didn't complain.
"We're gonna show you, alright." Sami murmured lowly in your ear, nibbling on it, causing a sharp inhale and his name to pass your lips, and he couldn't help but smile. He loved it when you moaned his name.
Jey lowered himself onto your lips. His lips were soft, and he tasted salty as you ran your tongue across them, tasting him, enjoying the taste as you moaned quietly into his mouth. His lips moved against yours passionately, and you couldn't help but moan loudly into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. You bit his bottom lip playfully, drawing a grunt from him, and you felt how he tightened his grip around your thighs.
He lifted you up, his grip still firm, and he walked backwards, dragging you with him, till you fell back onto the bed. He followed suit, sitting inbetween your legs and cupping your face with one of his hands. The other tangled into your hair, pulling your head forward so that he could capture your mouth again.
Your hands roamed over his body eagerly, exploring every inch of his skin you could reach, loving the goosebumps forming wherever you touched. Sami shuffled behind you, and you gasped into Jey's mouth when you felt his erection pressed into your back, his body leaning behind yours against the bed. Jey took advantage of your gasp and began nibbling on your lips, pulling away just as quickly as he had started. But not before licking at your bottom lip and grinning devilishly down at you.
"Mmh..you taste so fucking delicious babygirl." He mumbled huskily against your lips as you tried to catch your breath.
"Fuck yeah she does." Sami mumbled in agreement, his hands rubbing your naked skin, making you shiver with desire. "I'll get to her real soon." Sami muttered against your mouth before attacking your neck, his fingers dancing down to cup your bare breasts possessively.
Jey's hand found it's way to your legs, and he rubbed your thighs roughly, eliciting a moan from you, making you writhe against his lap, making him chuckle as his lips continued to explore your body. You arched your back, your hands reaching up to tug lightly at Sami's hair, wanting him to continue where he left off.
Sami growled into your neck, kissing up and down your skin as Jey hands teased your thighs, his finger gently rubbing against your swollen, wet folds, making you gasp loudly and shudder, your fingers digging into Jey's shoulders. Sami leaned forwards and caught the tip of your nipple between his teeth before biting sharply, earning a choked scream from you.
"Oh god." You panted as Jey's thumb began massaging your clit, his finger brushing back and forth, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves inside your pussy and making you groan and lean your head back against Sami's chest.
"Relax, you deserve this" Sami breathed, his hands tightening around your hipbones, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips.
"No, I don't." You grumbled back, but Jey's fingers moving faster made you choke on a moan, his fingers crooking into that spot that made you moan out uncontrollably, teasing it with each stroke, your eyes rolling back in your skull and your jaw clenching tightly. Jey kissed his way up your chest and rested his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your cheeks.
"Don't say shit like that. You deserve this." He said firmly, his dark brown eyes boring into yours. He circled the spot once again, making you cry out, his fingers dipping further inside your pussy. "You deserve everything, okay babygirl?"
You didn't think you did though. You thought you didn't deserve anything ever again. All the things you'd done to people. All the pain and hurt they had experienced. They had suffered because of you. Because you chose to do what you did. You chose to not stop the monster you made until he inevitably hurt you as well. You let your pride override your emotions. You let your love for giving your best friend everything in the world cloud your morals until you could no longer see the good side of anything. It was always about the future. Always about plotting away the future you instead of saving yourself right now.
"Stop thinking about it." Sami said softly, as if he was reading your mind. He tweaked your nipple, making you forget about everything instantly and whine loudly and arch your back, making you feel Sami's cock pressing against your butt, sending tingly shocks straight to your center.
"Shit..Sami..oh my God.." You panted, closing your eyes and tilting your head back to try and breathe better, but Jey's fingers were still working your pussy, stroking at your clit as Sami held your hips firmly, keeping you still as he moved his fingers inside your pussy, making you moan louder. "Please..fuck.." You panted out desperately, begging Jey to hurry up. Jey smiled and looked down at you, shaking his head slightly as he leaned down and placed a feather light kiss to your lips.
"Say you deserve it." He whispered, his voice low and deep and so full of lust and passion. You opened your eyes and looked down, unable to find the words to respond. You shook your head, and closed your eyes again. You didn't deserve i-
"No..say it." Sami ordered softly, harshly squeezing your boob hard, causing you to cry out and arch your back again. His gaze softened and he pulled away from you to kiss your cheek before leaning down and taking your right nipple into his mouth. You bit your lip, fighting off the urge to moan at how amazing it felt, and you heard Sami suck harder on your left nipple, causing you to whimper louder. You squirmed underneath the warm weight that was laying on you, your leg tangling with Jey's and his arm still holding you close, your hips shifting beneath his.
"You deserve to be loved. You deserve to feel loved, baby. So tell us, say it again." Sami growled against your shoulder before sucking on your earlobe. You gasped deeply, your body tensing as you gripped the bed sheets underneath you. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest as Jey slowed down his pace slightly and stared down at you while his hand fingered you slowly, your walls clenching tight around his finger making you shake from pleasure. Your breathing was heavy and uneven, as you were lost in ecstasy.
"All that shit Roman told you, get that outcha head. You know damn well he was wrong." Jey whispered in your ear as your moans turned into loud gasps. "You hear me? Get that shit outtcha head, cause you deserve nothing less than all the happiness the world has to offer." Jey kissed the hop of your head sweetly, in contrast to his thumb was rubbing your clit as he spoke and his fingers worked furiously against your opening, his thumb circling you slowly and teasing you, making you bite on your own lip and arch your back, moaning loudly in the process.
"Say you deserve that shit!"
"I deserve it!" You finally said out loud with a moan, your voice sounding hoarse from crying and panting through your cries. Jey grinned triumphantly and moved his thumb to brush your nub gently, making you moan again, this time louder. A sudden wave of heat washed over you, and you could practically feel yourself building up again.
"Good girl." He said happily before trailing kisses up your jawline to your ear and then whispering in your ear seductively. "We ain't gon' hurt you like him baby, we're gonna show you just how much we love you."
The warmth spread from your toes up to your groin, making you arch your back off the bed as he pistoled your pussy and sped up with the force of his hand thrusts. As he went faster, you squeezed your eyes shut and cried out. You were close, so so close, but you didn't even have to tell Jey or Sami. They already knew. They always knew.
'Let go for us, baby. We're here for ya. Let it all go.' Jey purred into your ear in a gentle tone while stroking your clit, watching you on the brink of an orgasm. Sami's free hand cupped your other breast, stroking your nipple lightly, as he sucked on your other breast as well.
"We're not gonna leave you, baby. We got you." Sami's soft voice cooed in your ears softly while his lips sucked on your breasts harshly as if he couldn't get enough of the salty taste.
Your moans grew louder and louder, and you felt Jey's hand gripping yours tightly enough to leave bruises.
'Come on baby, come for us.' Jey commanded and suddenly you couldn't hold back any longer. You didn't know what set you off; the way they were guiding you, their soft voices and even softer touches, but all you know is that you let go and let out the loudest scream you've ever screamed, your muscles tensing in agony and pleasure all at the same time as you came undone.
White spots danced in your vision as your mind went blank. The only thing you could focus on was the intense feeling coursing throughout your body. The feeling of being with two men who loved you and wanted you. Who cherished you. The feeling of being worshipped and desired. The feeling of someone wanting you more than they've ever wanted anyone else.
Sami's hand on your face and Jey shaking your shoulder brought you back to reality, your eyes blown out with pleasure and dazed, blinking repeatedly to clear the hazy haze in your vision. You opened your eyes to see Jey and Sami stared down at you lovingly, their faces flushed and their eyes glowing.
"We wore you out, babygirl?"Jey asked softly, smiling down at you while tracing random patterns on your naked thighs, his thumb gliding along the crease where your thighs meet. Sami hummed in agreement as he followed suit and softly traced the same patterns on your leg.
You scoffed at the thought, smirking up at them. "No chance in hell you guys are wearing me out." They mirrored your smirk and chuckled lowly, and your smirk turned into a gulp at the look in their eye when they slowly moved their bodies closer to you.
"Oh really?" Jey asked, licking his lips slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You wanna bet on that?" Sami added, his hand sliding over yours, his fingers curling around your own until you intertwined your fingers with his, both of you staring at each other intently. Their eyes locked together as they waited for your answer silently.
"Yeah. You wanna bet?" you breathed, your stomach fluttering wildly as you saw the hunger in their eyes.
"Well I can't exactly make the lady pay me back right?" Sami murmured, moving his head lower till his lips were brushing the edge of your collarbone, his breath tickling the skin. He began to trail kisses along the curve of your breast. "Like we said, we're here to take care of you…" Sami mumbled as his fingers trailed down the edge of your shirt to stroke your bare stomach.
"Take care of her." Jey whispered quietly, caressing your thigh with his hand, his gaze fixed intently on your face, his eyes darkening at the sight. Sami stopped moving his lips and instead brushed his tongue against the corner of your navel before kissing it, and licking it again as his fingers stroked your inner thigh slowly, his fingers gliding over your folds and rubbing gently in circles.
You squirmed under their hands, your breath catching in your throat. You tried to speak but no words would come out of your mouth. All you managed to do was shake your head from side to side as you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw tightly, trying to stop yourself from whining from all the pleasure rushing through your body.
"You ready for some love now, babe?" Jey whispered huskily, Sami's fingers slipping out of you with a whine that turned into a yelp when he pulled you up and laid you down on your back.
You gasped loudly as they climbed onto you, sitting on the bed as Jey leaned forward and rested his forehead on top of yours, gazing into your eyes with lusty brown hues. He reached up and cupped your face softly with one hand, pulling himself up so that he could lean over and kiss you softly, his tongue dancing inside your mouth in harmony with yours, it has been so long but it felt so familiar and it felt right and you missed it so much.
Sami started moving his hips in sync with yours, rubbing against you while Jey continued to kiss you and touch you as if he needed to commit every part of your beautiful body to memory. And oh god did he do just that, making your body feel loved yet also made you ache in the best way possible.
You were preoccupied with the dizzying taste of Jey's addicting mouth on yours, but you felt Sami let you go and shuffle around the room, before returning, feeling his weight shift the bed as you and Jey were kissing each other like your life depended on it, melting into each others touch and kisses.
"God, you taste good." Sami groaned, licking the side of your neck, causing you to break away from Jey's mouth to look up at Sami. His cute little dimples showing as he smirked down at you and gave you a quick peck on the lips.
You rolled your eyes fondly and bit back a smile at his cuteness. This man did not know what he did to you, how he made your heart beat for him even when you tried to fight it back. How every time he touched you, you could feel your knees giving way under you, because the feeling of your body being consumed by him was too strong, too intoxicating to resist.
How he made you was the first person in a long time to make you feel at peace with his infectious presence; his sweet smiles, soft giggles, playful jabs and jokes. How his eyes shined deep like the stars you used to dream of looking at, sparkling and warm with emotion. How everything he does makes you fall in love with him a tiny bit more.
Jey grabbed Samis hair and pulled him closer, his lips fiery hot as his lips devoured Samis', their tongues colliding fiercely and passionately, making your pussy heat up at the sight- especially when Sami let out a guttural moan and kissed Jey back just as hungrily, his hand cradling Jey's chin and forcing Jey to open his mouth wide to swallow more of his lover's lips.
You couldn't help but bite your lip at seeing the heated passion in their eyes, their tongues tangled, biting and kissing deeply, making you wetter and hotter, your legs trembling, and your clit throbbing, the intensity and want building.
Both men groaned into each other mouths at the feel of their dicks being palmed, and Sami bit down on Jey's bottom lip hard, licking it to soothe the bite before breaking away from Jey's lips and leaning back, panting heavily and holding Jey's cheeks in his palms, looking down at your grinning form , his brown eyes blazing in desire and need as they searched yours, drinking up every detail of your face greedily.
"Baby, as much as we appreciate that, this is about taking care of our girl." Sami said hoarsely, his breathing ragged as he watched you pout, your eyes pleading with him to just let you please them. "I'm not a doll that'll break any second, I don't need to be taken care o-
You yelped when you were pushed back, the air leaving your body when Jey's lips crashed harshly against yours, his teeth scraping your bottom lip roughly, your mind immediately filled with nothing but the taste of Jey and his minty breath as he devoured you like he was starving for you, and you for him.
Jey's large calloused hands held tightly on your waist, his fingers digging painfully into you as he ground against you, your breasts bouncing wildly on his chest. Your moans echoed throughout the room as you clutched at Jey's shoulders, your nails grazing the skin there.
When he finally pulled away, his honey brown eyes were glistening with passion as he looked you over, running his tongue across his full bottom lip slowly. Fire was all you saw in his eyes, the fire you've craved every since you first met, the fire you've been craving the past couple months ever since he left the Bloodline and you iced him out. You wanted more, wanted to see those eyes turn black as sin as you begged him to fuck you, wanted to see the flames dance in them and unleash from his soul.
And as he licked his lips and you stared into those dark pools of fire, you knew you were gonna get what you wanted.
"You so fucking stubborn, you know that?" Jey growled and gripped your hips firmly as he pressed a few kisses to the corner of your lips, your cheek, your temple, and stopping at your neck, clashing his teeth lightly over your pulse point.
"You.Are.Our. Girl." he growled in between the kiss as his grip tightened on your hips. You arched your back slightly as he took advantage of your sudden change in position, his cock slightly brushing against your entrance making you shudder as he sucked in a sharp breath against your neck and kissed his way back up, his rough beard scratching the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet.
"And that means you let us take care of you, okay baby?" He said softly into your ear before nipping your earlobe playfully, his hands traveling underneath you to push you up slightly. You were so deep into his words and seduction you didn't realize Sami was behind you until you felt his breath on your neck and his hands on your waist, the feel of his bulging cock on your ass bringing a moan from your lips as your whole body tingled with anticipation.
"Whatever shit he who must not be named put into your head-" You giggled at Sami's way of mentioning Roman, and his eyes lit up at the sound.
"-You are amazing, you deserve to be loved and cared for, by someone who loves you, someone who will treat you right. And I can't promise that we'll be perfect, I can't promise we can give you the same influence that Roman has given you. but…we can promise you we'll take care of you and love you better than he ever will, like you deserve, because you are so fucking precious, I don't think you even know how amazing you truly are…."
The tears stung your eyes as his warm words and gentle loving voice penetrated through your thick layer of emotional pain.
Power.
It had been the one thing that'd been consuming you for the past 3 years, the main thing that you thought would make you happy- the thing that brought out the dark and twisted sides of you that you didnt bother hiding in the first place, but came out even more because anyone standing in the Bloodline's way would get crushed in an instant, just like you did. And Jey was the only one to break through your armour and shatter it like glass. Then Sami broke it into pieces and shattered them completely, and then healed them again, and again, and again. Every piece Roman destroyed, he repaired, and every piece you fell apart, Jey fixed alongside with him.
And right now, looking into his pretty face, looking into his big brown eyes shining bright with love for you, and Jey with his handsome face smiling and eyes full of adoration as he looked at you, you didn't want to just feel fixed. You wanted to become whole again; to be complete.
You wanted to feel complete. You wanted to feel loved despite the darkness within you, because they brought out the light inside of you that you've buried so deep inside your bones that you forgot the feeling existed. But they brought it back.
And it was the most beautiful feeling in the world.
You let out a watery chuckle as a sadly beautiful smile appeared on your lips as tears pooled in your eyes. "I think loving me comes with its own set of challenges, and I have so many of them…" You chuckled dryly as you cupped Sami's cheeks, your eyes burning and your emotions bubbling beneath you. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm just like him. And I want you guys to realize that now instead of later when you get hurt by me."
Sami exchanged a look with Jey before he lifted your chin, his hands cupping your jaw lovingly while he stared at you so intensely that you almost thought your skin would melt off your body just by his gaze alone. "You are no monster," He said softly, his touch on your skin even softer. "You're our angel. And the only thing that would make us leave you is if you left us right now."
You closed your eyes at the statement, your eyelashes fluttering lightly against your cheeks as you let out a small giggle, which turned into a sob as the last remaining remnants of anger melted away from your heart as your eyes flashed open to reveal the tears spilling freely on your cheeks.
"I-I'm so sorry, Oh my god, I didn't mean to make you sad and cry-" Sami panicked , his hands moving from your jaw, wiping his thumbs over your cheeks tenderly, his thumb gently tracing over a tear track. "I'm sorry!" He repeated in a whisper as his thumbs brushed across your cheeks again, his thumb still moving gently around your cheek.
"Sami, sami, chill out, those are happy tears!" Jeys stopped Sami from panicking, placing a hand on Samis' chest and keeping a firm hold on him, preventing him from continuing his ministrations and making him stop and look back at you and see the sad smile on your face and the glint in your beautiful eyes. You couldn't help the smile you gave Sami as you wiped the last traces of tears away from your eyes and smiled sweetly as you placed a soft, chaste peck on his lips.
"You're fine, baby. Jey's right, I'm fine." You smiled, your tone reassuring as you squeezed Samis' shirt and leaned into Jey who was currently hovering over you protectively. Jey knew you too well. "I just...never had someone say that to me before, y'know? Say all this sweet stuff and really mean it." You murmured and Jey sighed quietly, his lips forming a tight line as he gazed at you with the most gentle yet heated expression in his eyes, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as he ran his thumb over your lips.
"You deserve to be treated right." His husky voice sent shivers down your spine and made your knees go weak. He moved closer to you, your faces inches apart as his hands caressed your thighs as the heat emanating from his touch sent shivers down your spine.
You swallowed nervously, watching Jey move even closer to you, his face mere centimeters from yours, his eyes burning into your soul, burning holes right through your body. He stared at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking -he was always able to tell what you were feeling -as the tips of his fingers traced your hipbones, your thighs, your chest, your collarbone…his fingers trailing down your arm as if he couldn't bare not touching you anymore and just wanted nothing more than to pull you closer, to touch every inch of your body, to devour every inch of your soul, to show you how much you meant to him.
"And I'ma make sure you know it." He whispered into your soul before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, one that left you melting into him, your arms encircling his neck tightly, pulling him impossibly closer to you, his warm hands holding your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. He slowly backed you against the bed, kissing you passionately while his lips continued their torture against yours.
"Lean against Sami, baby. We gon' be laying down awhile." He whispered hotly against your lips, and you could feel Sami's hands on your thighs as he held you steady so that you wouldn't fall as his body was pressing up against yours, your back arching and your breasts jiggling with each movement as he pressed you against him.
You listened and turned around and was met with a kiss from Jey, his tongue hot and probing against yours. You moaned into his mouth as he took control of the kiss, and he was doing so perfectly. Teeth clashed against each other, tongues flicking one each others mouths, the heat pooling in between your legs at the feel of his cold chain on your warm skin contrasting the warmth radiating off Jey's skin where his body was pressed against yours.
Every breath you stole from each other was like a re-introduction to each other written in fire, burned and blistered by your lips. Every kiss was an apology to each other in the form of tongue and teeth, as every time one of you breathed out another sigh, the other groaned in pleasure. Every pounding of your hearts and gentle touches to your skins was like new love letters that you wrote while you missed each other that you were going to keep reading every night.
And every time you felt something else brush against you as you lay there in Jey and Sami's embrace, everything in your head went silent, as if there wasn't anything to distract your mind. You knew they were safe. They protected you. No matter how many times you told yourself they didn't, deep down you knew you were lying to yourself.
And you weren't gonna let you lie to yourself any longer.
"You ready, baby?" Jey whispered against your lips after kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his forehead against yours, his hand finding your waist, gently pulling you closer to him.
"Yes." You replied honestly, your eyes sparkling with realization and hope. "With you both, I'm always ready."
Jey's lips turned up into a sweet smile that matched the stars that seemed to be in his eye's that made your heart swell, and Sami's grip on you hips softened even more as he smiled too. Your lips connected once again, this time with more passion and emotion. You wanted to memorize how this moment felt for eternity. And you hoped forever would come sooner rather than later.
Once you pulled away panting, Sami kissed alongside your neck before slipping something to Jey, and when Jey caught it with ease you realized it was a condom.
You groaned internally when Jey brought it to his mouth and ripped it open with his teeth, never breaking eye contact with you, the heat radiating off of Jey's eyes as he stared intensely at you, licking his lips, making you shiver in anticipation. You heard ripping coming from behind you and knew that Sami was doing the same thing.
"Are you trying to kill me?" You faux glared at Jey as your heart hammered violently against your ribcage.
"Not yet, sweetheart." Jey smirked as he slipped the latex on and started kissing along your jaw, Sami kissing along your collarbone and shoulder until Jey reached the end of your neck, leaving you gasping as Sami sucked your pulse point gently, sending shocks through your entire being as his kisses trailed down your side and stopped at your hipbones before sliding down again, pausing briefly to suckle on the flesh.
Sami removed his lips from your hipbones and pressed a soft kiss against your exposed shoulder, your skin tingling as it warmed instantly from his presence. You inhaled sharply when you felt Sami's cock nudge against your ass as his hand slid down your thigh, gripping onto your ass, squeezing hard, causing you to let out an involuntary gasp as a mixture of pain and pleasure rushed through your whole body.
"I swear to god if you don't move in the next five seconds you're gonna die-" You were the one cutting yourself off with a moan when Jey slid his cock into you without warning, stretching you out inch by inch with no mercy, his eyes burning into your soul as your mind shut down, only conscious of his thrusts, his tongue lapping at your throat.
Only able to feel the coldness of his chain on your skin, only able to hear the uncontrollable moans you were letting out as Sami continued sucking and nibbling at your earlobe as Jey slid deeper and deeper inside of you, and it felt like your insides were being devoured alive.
You could barely think or get a word out, let alone breathe properly because everything felt unreal, everything felt so real, so surreal. It felt like you were floating in space, floating in clouds of clouds that looked so fluffy but felt so heavy as you tried to hold yourself together.
Then Sami pushed you a bit farther back and pushed his cock into your core, and you lost it.
"Fuck! I can't -oh my God!" You were moaning and squirming uncontrollably, the feel of him filling you up alongside Jey and every thrust he made was like heaven itself was entering your body, and the angels were singing praises as your toes curled. And when Jey thrusted in time with the music, a beautiful melody filled your ears as if the angels had joined in on the heavenly choir of praise, the sounds of your moans mixing beautifully with the sounds of their grunts and Jey's harsh breathing.
Jey chuckled against your skin at your blissed out state, making you shudder and shake. "Oh yeah, baby. Feel good now?" His hot breath tickled your ear, his fingers digging into your flesh while his lips continued kissing you senselessly, his lips caressing your skin and his cock moving in rhythm with each thrusts of Sami's.
You nodded, but any words you wanted to say were wiped away and your head fell back on Sami's shoulder in bliss when he hit a particular spot inside you, making any and all doubts in your head go away.
"So beautiful," Sami growled against your neck, your jaw going slack at his sexy tone and even sexier words. "Being such a good girl for us, trusting us to take care of you and look after you right?" He pulled out just slightly before sliding back in smoothly, your eyes closing and body shaking as you moaned loudly, "Let us do those things for you, baby." He pleaded against your skin, and his tone made you weak in the knees. Another timed thrust and you became even weaker.
"That feel good, right baby?" Jey cupped your jaw and forced you to look directly at him. His handsome face was contorted in pure ecstasy and glistening beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, but the look in his eye was intense, fiery, lustful, as if all the galaxies were in his irises and you were just the fuel that was burning them to life.
"Yes…baby" You gasped softly and gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his back.
Jey smiled at your response, and your back arched instinctively as his lips found its way towards your neck, biting your collarbone gently, causing another wave of pleasure to surge through you.
"Shhh…." Sami mumbled against your skin as his hands traveled to your breasts, pinching lightly at your nipple, making you squirm and moan in arousal. "Relax. Relax." He urged you, making you relax your muscles as he kept massaging your breasts in time to the pace of his thrusts and Jey's thrusts.
How could he think you could relax when your nerves felt like they'd been electrocuted? You couldn't stop your hips bucking up underneath Sami who held them still, but you could feel how close you were becoming to losing control, to falling apart completely. The only thing you could do was bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out from sheer pleasure.
"Don't hold back, baby." Jey encouraged gently, giving you little chaste pecks against your neck as his hips pounded against yours faster, almost frantic as you moaned loudly, unable to control your voice anymore, and your cries drowned in the sound of Sami's deep, raspy breathing against your neck.
You wanted to feel like this forever. Live in this moment forever. With Jey. With Sami. In the arms of the two men whose love was so unconditional and strong that you would probably die from the pure bliss it produced within you.
Even though you wanted nothing more than to stay in that exact moment forever, you could feel the heat building up in your belly, spreading throughout your body and your thighs were starting to tremble under the pressure of their thrusts, the warmth inside of your legs spreading further down your legs, which made you arch your back with an audible moan.
"Please..faster." You whimpered out between pants and whimpers as you made both men grunt at you clenching around them so tight it almost hurt.
Both men grunted harshly, pushing deeper as they slammed themselves into you relentlessly, their moans louder and their thrusts harder, and it was the best high you've ever felt. You couldn't believe that you were already getting addicted to it, addicted to the sensations coursing through your veins, the overwhelming feelings of complete ecstasy and euphoria flowing through your veins.
Sami's hand slid down to your pussy squeezed your clit roughly, rubbing it as their thrusts increased, hitting you harder and harder, until you were shaking and gasping and crying out and panting, trying but unable to hold back, unable to hold yourself back.
Jey noticed and leaned over to whisper something in your ear, "Go ahead." He spoke softly, as if he wasn't making your whole body shake underneath him. "Take all you need." He added. He puncuated that with a hard thrust inside you, causing you to cry out loudly and make your eyes roll to the back of your head.
"Move her." Sami ordered softly, his thrusts and hand rubbing at your clit making all thoughts leave your body. Jey complied and understood what Sami meant instantly, grabbing your legs and putting them on his shoulders, and you squealed as he pounded his cock even deeper with the new angle he took.
"Jey! Fu-" You cried out in surprise as Jey moved your legs in a different direction, his thrusts stronger, deeper and faster, his strokes rougher and deeper than before.
"I know, baby." Jey hummed, pulling his dick out and slamming it back in, making you arch up once again, making you gasp for air. "Good girl. Keep going. Give it all you got, baby. You can take it." He praised, and you were close, so so close, teetering on the edge of heaven and earth and beyond, and you weren't sure where you belonged, but you hoped wherever you ended up wasn't without Jey and Sami.
"I-I'm close…. You panted, feeling Sami's hand grip your hip and guide you closer, Jey's hand gripping your ankle. At your words both men's hips jerked forward simultaneously, causing you to scream and cry out again even louder and scream their names.
"Let go for me baby…Let go.." Jey begged, his thrusts hitting you harder, faster, and harder, and you could feel it all bubbling inside of you, waiting to come to the surface.
Sami pounded himself softer and slower and then faster, and you could feel your body trembling as you were about to fall off the precipice. You felt like the waves were crashing against you, drowning you, taking you away to another world, somewhere unknown but safe, and you wanted to be swept up in it's shores.
"Sami.. Jey.." You moaned as the waves crashed against you, the waves swallowing you whole. "I'm gonna.. I'm gonna…."
"Come for us baby… Come now." Sami ordered, his thumb stroking the wetness inside of your pussy slowly while he and Jey thrusted in unison and your entire body shuddered at the sensation.
"Look at me, sweetheart." Jey's gruff voice broke through the haze clouding your mind and the wave that was threatening to swallow you vanished.
You opened your eyes, and met Jey's golden ones. They stared back into your soul, their lust and desire and possessiveness and affection shining brightly in his eyes. They were dark brown with hints of gold in them, and you could literally see every thought and emotion hidden behind them and it scared you how much he loved you.
"Let go for me, baby. I love you, we love you. Do it for me." He purred and your heart clenched at his words, and you didn't know what it was about them, but they made your knees give in and your body finally succumb to the waves that were trying to sweep you away and drown you.
Heaven and hell had disappeared for you for a while; there was only darkness and fire and Jey's piercing gaze and and Samis' fierce touches that burned you alive as you rode out those waves, and Sami's warm hand on your face bringing you back to reality after they rode out their own waves as well.
"Are you okay, babe? You did so well for us.” Your eyes fluttered open at Sami's hand on your cheek tenderly, looking straight into his eyes lovingly. Jey was right beside you and his chest was heaving as he caught his breath. He kissed your forehead tenderly.
You gave them both a bright smile that melted their hearts as they gazed back at you lovingly, their expressions softening as their eyes filled with adoration.
"That... was the best sex I had in my entire life...." You admitted truthfully and they chuckled.
"I think that was the sweetest thing you've ever said to us after everything that happened." Sami teased as he brushed a curl of hair that had fallen across your face.
"Shut up, it was not." You giggled, swatting his hand away playfully.
"So you telling us to fuck off and leave you alone doesn't count?" Jey sarcastically challenged as he grinned smugly back at you, sitting up on the headboard right next to you, resting his arm around you.
“Okay, could you blame me when I thought you guys hated me after I basically iced you two out after all the shit that happened? I mean, I understand it. Honestly, I do.." You sighed heavily, turning slightly away from him.
"Hey." Jey pulled your chin round so you faced him again, and cupped your cheeks gently in his hands, forcing you to look at him. "Don't put all the blame on yourself. It wasn't just you either. I fucked up by letting you go when I should have never let you go in the first place, expecting you to forgive me and move on like nothin' ever happened."
His thumb grazed your bottom lip gently as he looked deeply into your eyes that were filled with a mixture of guilt and regret, making his stomach flip at the sight. "It's the same thing I did with Sami when I tried to push him aside. It's all my fault."
"Hey, hey hey, it's no ones fault okay?" Sami interrupted your guilt ridden self pity party, moving in between you and Jey and wrapping his arms around you both tightly, leaning back against the headboard. "We are all human, and that means mistakes. But that doesn't mean we can't move on ." His tone turned serious, his eyes holding a firm glint in them. "The past is done. All that matters now is the future and right now, I want our future to include each other."
Sami turned to you and looked deep into your eyes, his words leaving you in awe of his honesty, at how sweet his smile was, how gentle his touch always was, and how raw his voice was. "I want you with me for as long as you will let me. I want to be the one you go to when you're lonely or when you're hurt, I want you to come to me when you feel like you're going crazy, I want you to trust me enough to not shut me out when something is bothering you, and I want to wake up to you and Jey in my bed every morning because that would be heaven." Sami's grip tightened on you and Jey as he continued speaking, and a lump in your throat formed at hearing his words, and you didn't have to look at Jey to know he was teary eyed as well.
"Sami…" You whispered softly.
"Let me finish please." Sami smiled softly, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and wiping away some stray tears which were falling down your face silently. "My point being: I love you, I want to spend the rest of eternity with you, and I need you in my life more than anything. And I'll gladly spend however long you want me to, if I can." Sami's eyes twinkled with such sincerity and care, so much care and passion, that it made your heart melt all over again.
Your heart was stuck in your throat as he finished his speech, feeling the tears stinging your eyes again but you blinked them away and held Sami's love striken gaze as best as you possibly could without bursting into loud sobs and throwing your arms around him. His honestly raw honesty made you fall in love all over again, and you didn't realize before how badly you needed that kind of honesty in your life, and you know you owed it to him to give him exactly that.
"Sami, I love you too you absolute fool." Your comment made both men laugh despite the emotions running through all three of you, and you wiped at your eyes, your vision blurring with tears of happiness and relief and joy. "And you're a dumbass if you think that I'm just gonna walk away from this, walk away from you both. You've made me feel like nothing else in the entire fucking universe ever has, and I'd be an idiot if I didn't let myself fall for someone who loves and adores me as much as you do."
You sniffled as your lips trembled uncontrollably, Jey's arm rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder making you turn to him as well. "I love you guys. I promise that."
Sami's eyes shone brighter, the emotions swirling within them making them shine brighter than any star ever had before, and you couldn't believe you were the one making the stars shine with pure love and light, as if they had been created solely for your sake. You were staring at them as if the moon was rising on the horizon and the clouds had suddenly parted, Sami smiled like the sun itself, and Jey's eyes were shimmering like diamonds as if you had just bestowed upon them the most beautiful jewels imaginable.
"God you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that." Sami's voice cracked a little and in one second planted his lips firmly on yours, silencing you. The kiss was slow, loving, and sweet, everything you ever wanted and needed. When you eventually pulled away, Sami's hand rested on the side of your neck, caressing your skin tenderly. Jey cupped your jaw and tilted your face until you were looking directly into his eyes, his smile wide and full of warmth and love.
“I love you, and I'm never letting you go like I did once before, not now, not ever, and definetly not ever again. This time, I mean it, baby girl."
His words were like a warm blanket wrapped around you, calming you down and easing all of your worries, your stress, your fear, and your sorrow, and it left you with the biggest smile on your face ever since you saw it. The warmth emanating from Jey's eyes as he stared into you was almost intoxicating, but even more so when Jey leaned in closer and pressed his soft, warm lips to yours.
Unlike the kisses you shared with him earlier, this kiss was slow, gentle, passionate, and meaningful; it was a way for him to make up for lost time and remind you he would always be there for you, he would always be here. He said that with every movement of his lips against yours, and with every caress of his fingertips on your skin sending tingles throughout your whole body.
You pulled away from him breathless, and rested your foreheads together as you smiled lovingly at him and traced your finger down his perfect facial structure slowly and carefully.
"I hope you'd love me considering all that's happened tonight." You laughed lightly, your brown skin glowing softly in the low light of the room.
"Anddd you just ruined the moment." Jey complained, shaking his head jokingly. You smirked and leaned forward, pecking his nose affectionately.
"Oh poor baby, can't handle my charms." You teased, laughing when Jey pouted at you and shifted over to Sami's lap, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'm going to someone who actually appreciates me and won't make fun of me."
"Then you went to the wrong person, cause teasing you is my favorite pastime." Jeys groan of annoyance made you laugh harder, causing Sami to chuckle as well while kissing Jey's hair.
You smiled at the sight, squishing yourself in between them and resting your head on Jey's chest and your legs on Sami's lap, snuggling into the warmth of their bodies.
"Guess this means I'm officially your girl now, huh?" You inhaled Jey's scent deeply, trying to wade off the slight nerves at your question. Jey noticed and stroked your skin comfortingly, smiling lovingly when you cuddled even closer to him. He missed this part of you, the moments when you felt safe and comfortable enough to show how vulnerable you really were and to relax completely, to just be yourself.
"Baby, just like Sami said, we ain't letting you go, even if I gotta handcuff you to my bed, but you prolly would like that." Jey answered, laughing at your indignant squeak and dodging your playful swats to his shoulder. He intertwined your fingers before you could swat him again and squeezed your hands gently, earning him a soft smile in return.
"But forreal, I can't handle not having you by my side again. I want us to start fresh and be happy, and I wanna call you my girl, our girl."
You smiled even wider at his words, knowing it wasn't a question but a fact. And it was a fact you wanted to be true, you wanted to have this forever, and you knew you couldn't let them slip by your fingers because of your fears or your doubts anymore.
So you turned slightly to face him, and cupped his face in your hands with your thumbs tracing the curve of his cheeks lovingly. "I'd want nothing more." You said sincerely, causing Sami to squeeze your hand in excitement and Jey to smile widely, his eyes lighting up with happiness. Sami leaned back in to place a soft kiss on your cheek and then your lips, the gesture so intimate and loving and sweet that it nearly broke your heart. Jey leaned forward and planted another chaste kiss on your lips after Sami gave you a peck and smiled brightly.
"Well I guess congratulations are in order." You giggled at Sami's remark and looked at Jey with a smug smirk on your face.
"You're right, Sami. And my first act as your girlfriend is going to the bathroom, and you both are very much welcome to join." With a wink, you got up before they could catch you and walked towards the bathroom, your butt swaying seductively as you strutted away.
Jey and Sami's eyes landed on your bare ass as it swayed seductively, making their hearts beat faster, their breaths shorten, and their mouths water for more. Their eyes followed your figure as it disappeared out of view, before turning to each other and exchanging knowing looks.
"First one to get to the bathroom get's to join me in the shower!" Your voice called out through the door teasingly, your giggles reaching their ears despite the distance between the two of you.
Jey and Sami looked at each other again, seemingly communicating silently with each other, before Jey smirked at him and pushed past him (albeit gently) to run to you , his steps echoing loudly in the room. "Man, move ya slow ass!"
Sami chuckled to himself as he watched Jey chase after you, feeling incredibly accomplished and proud that he had gotten everything he wanted. The man of his dreams, the woman of his dreams, and it couldn't be more perfect. And as he made his way to the bathroom, and the three of you participated in more rendezvous activities in the shower, he made his way to the bathroom, and the three of you participated in more rendezvous activities in the shower, he knew this utter perfection is what he wanted to live for. To fight for, to love, to cherish, and to give.
And he and Jey wouldn't let it go without a fight - not if you were willing, anyway.
Unbeknownst to the three of you, your phone was ringing incessantly, but it was on do not disturb. But maybe you'd regret that decision sooner or later.
incoming text message from roman🖤: You think I don't know what you're doing? I've known you for years,you really think I wouldn't know that u ran off to sami and jey after you made the biggest mistake of your life? You think I'm gonna let what you did slide?
incoming text message from roman🖤: Everything I'm about to do to the people you care for, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself if you don't rectify what you did.
incoming text message from roman 🖤: Don't say I didn't warn you.
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fromkenari · 6 months ago
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I know some of y'all are devastated about Buck and Tommy breaking up. Still, Tim, Oliver, and Lou have all been harping on it being "fresh and new" since they started talking about the season, which is why I have been holding off on throwing it all down for the ship because, yes, I DID want a place to talk about whatever was going on between them without getting bashed for it. It took me a WHILE to find that, and I don't plan to just leave those spaces because it ended.
Still, this relationship only existed for 13 episodes and was shown in less than half of those episodes. I didn't even understand why and how they were in a relationship until 8x05. I was prepared for that dinner to be their one- or two-month anniversary, not SIX, with the way Tim, Oliver, and Lou have played it in interviews, insisting they're still in the "honeymoon phase."
Six months is a long fucking time for a "honeymoon phase," which is why that reveal threw me so hard at the beginning of the episode. And for how long have we been saying Abby's ex was named Tommy since he showed up and kissed Buck? And then that's not even the reason they broke up. They had Josh give Buck a pep talk before they broke up. This episode was a shitshow, yes, but are you honestly really that surprised they had another Buck love interest do him dirty? And come to find out that Oliver wants Buck to get dirty?
I'm kind of pissed about how all of this went, yeah. Still, I can't imagine what it's like going through the character you've played for seven seasons being the goddamn scapegoat for the relationship-ending trauma nearly every single season, which makes the fans put your character on a pedestal and the one time you finally get to have your character screw up and cheat SINCE his life-changing relationship in season one, your character not only does not get to fall off the pedestal, it gets higher because he doesn't get a single bit of the blame from the fans. No, they're too busy trashing your character's love interests for what your character did to them, mainly because they're women.
Y'all can say, "Wow, that must be a breath of fresh air for Tracie to have Karen not be the unmoved, understanding wife and be petty for once," but say you're "betrayed" by Oliver wanting a piece of that same nuance for his character? I mean, unfollow and block him if you must, but fucking christ y'all, the man has to be tired of being the golden retriever. No wonder he fully leaped into this arc. Let him have some fun, and Buck get a little tarnished. He's made of solid gold. He's gonna still shine in the end.
No, I am not in any way condoning the biphobic implications of the shit Tommy said to him at the end. I can see why Lou didn't want it to end that way. It's an incredible disservice to the bisexual community, and I do take offense to that. But they can't erase that now. So fine. Let this new Buck break some hearts. There's nobody (except maybe Eddie) that can doom spiral like Buck can. He's going to be impulsive. and (for once) he's not looking for a relationship. And he even said in this episode, he kind of worshiped Tommy so as shitty as what Tommy said was, it's going to go to Buck's head and heart for sure.
The Daddy said "you're just gonna break my heart" to guy with Daddy Issues. Y'all keep calling Buck a brat. Maybe he is. And maybe we're about to see it on blast. That affection-starved man has never done anything half-measured in his life.
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bottomless-pit-of-whining · 7 months ago
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So here's a thing I wish I could put on my main blog, or post on my Facebook, but I think all it would do is make me feel even more miserable and alone.
So, I consider myself Jewish and always have. That's my cultural and ethnic heritage on my dad's side of the family, the only family I grew up with. Yes, patrilineal, but I'm still Jewish. My dad's grandparents fled pogroms in Ukraine and came to the US as deeply traumatized people seeking survival. You can see the repercussions of that recent history in the generations that followed them. For the past few years, I've been actively working to find my place in that history and that heritage, because it's a part of who I am and who I will always be, and I want to be able to be part of it in return. That's my personal context.
When a terrorist group murdered and kidnapped a bunch of civilians last October, I was horrified. When a far-right extremist government retaliated by slaughtering an unthinkable number of civilians, I was horrified. I contacted my own politicians, I donated what money I could spare, I wept at the nightmare that was playing out.
I continue to be horrified as the inhumanity continues, at the sheer scale of tragedy and terror. I wish I had any power to stop it, and I do the small things I can to try to help alleviate suffering.
But you know what else has horrified me? The way my so-called allies, the leftists, the social justice warriors, have responded. I'm lucky that I could grow up without hate being thrown my direction (perhaps because people where I grew up did not know I was Jewish despite my very Jewish last name), but I am aware of what Jew-hate looks like. And I have been seeing people I thought I could trust now wallowing in variations of centuries-old hatred without questioning it, believing outright lies that can be easily disproven with even the most superficial fact-checking, listening to people who wish to do harm, and reducing a complex situation to the stark black-and-white, good-versus-evil conflict from a bad young adult novel.
I'm still going to hope for peace. I'm still trying to contribute what I can to help victims of violence and war.
But, speaking frankly, I don't trust a lot of people anymore and I probably never will. There is no place for me in leftist social justice communities.
I don't know why people have hated Jews for so long, except that I suppose it feels good to have someone else to blame your problems on. But people really truly do hate Jews, and they really truly have for a very long time with unthinkably tragic consequences, and there are modern groups who are absolutely thrilled to be able to bring newcomers into their circles of Jew-hate in the guise of fighting for justice.
And so many of the people I thought were my friends are following them into it without a second thought.
I am disappointed. I am betrayed. I am hopeless.
And I guess I'm pretty damn alone, because I am sure as hell not going to align myself with people whose values are in opposition to my own just because the leftists are also showing their hate.
It breaks my heart.
I'm posting this on my secret sideblog because, I don't know, I've been reading Jumblr for months now and it often helps me feel less alone and I suppose I am reaching out a hand asking if anyone else will be willing to take my hand and tell me I am not alone.
We are not a monolith, I know some of you feel differently from me in either direction, but I know at least some of you feel like I do and even those of you who don't fully align with me will still not smear me with hatred.
Tomorrow I am going to my first ever Rosh Hashanah service and I have been doing my best to prepare and I want to be proud, I want to be joyful, I want to embrace hope for a brighter new year and I want to shout to the rooftops that my people are beautiful and our traditions are beautiful and isn't it wonderful that I am able to step back where I belong among them, but instead I want to weep.
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80pairsofcrocs · 3 days ago
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spacial sparks || 14
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Chapter warnings - mention of drug and alcohol use, needle scars, blood, injuries, whatever happened to harold ig, five and his glass eye <3, let me know if i missed anything
~~~
Second pov
~~~
"She's suffered a severe laceration to her larynx," Grace begins, tending to Allison, as the sense of urgency fills the room. "One of you will need to give blood," she adds, a look of concern etched on her face.
"I will," echoes almost everyone in the room, their willingness to help evident in their expressions.
"I will," Luther firmly says, standing his ground. "I'm doing it," he emphasizes, showing his determination to assist in any way he can.
However, Pogo steps in at that moment, gently diverting Luther's attention. "I'm afraid that's not possible, dear boy," he starts, gesturing towards himself with a reassuring smile. 
"Your blood is more compatible with mine," he concludes, understanding the importance of matching blood types for the successful transfusion.
Klaus hesitated for a moment before speaking up, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and determination as he addressed the situation. "Hey, don't sweat it," he said, looking at the big guy in front of him. 
"I can handle this." A slight shiver ran down his spine as he added, "I... I love needles."
Pogo's voice cut through the tense atmosphere as he addressed Klaus with a touch of disapproval. "Master Klaus," he said sternly, "Your blood is... How shall I say this?"
"It's too polluted."
"Yeah, go on. I'll do it," Diego bravely declared, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty as he prepared himself for what was to come. His resolve wavered only when he caught sight of the gleaming needle, a simple yet intimidating tool that suddenly loomed large in his mind.
In that fleeting moment of doubt, Diego's demeanor shifted, betraying the facade of bravery he had so confidently worn just seconds before. 
A soft whimper escaped his lips, and his vision blurred before darkness enveloped him entirely.
Pogo, witnessing Diego's sudden descent into unconsciousness, couldn't help but let out a weary sigh. 
The weight of the situation settled heavily upon him, a stark reminder of the risks they faced in their line of work. 
"Stick him," Pogo instructed, his tone firm.
~~~
You find yourself in Five's dimly lit room, perched on the edge of his neatly-made bed, the weight of your thoughts pressing your head into your hands. 
The crimson stain seeping from your torn sleeves has left a trail across your pale face and fingers, the reminder of a moment too surreal to fully comprehend. 
As you gaze blankly ahead, the dried blood specks have morphed into grotesque patterns, mirroring the chaos swirling inside your mind.
Once, it was Five who bore the weight of your guilt, now replaced by Allison, a cruel twist of fate that twists the knife deeper into your already wounded conscience. 
In this fragmented moment of solitude, the bitter realization dawns on you that it should have been you, bearing the burden of their pain and suffering. 
They, your not-quite-family, are owed a life marked by happiness and health, untainted by the shadows that seem to follow you.
Yet, as the tendrils of self-blame threaten to consume you, a flicker of defiance surfaces within your weary heart. Despite the darkness clawing at your soul, a voice whispers that you, too, deserve a chance at solace and redemption. 
The internal battle rages on, a turbulent storm of conflicting emotions and shattered expectations, as you grapple with the conflicting notions of self-sacrifice and self-preservation.
In this moment of solemn reckoning, you hold fast to the fragile belief that amidst the chaos and despair, there exists a glimmer of hope for your own salvation.
As you sat there, engulfed in your thoughts, the sound of three distinct knocks against the doorframe abruptly pulled you from your inner reflection. 
Leaning casually on the doorway, Five's presence interrupted the solitude of your mind. "You disappeared there for a minute," he observed, his voice soft and understanding. 
Feeling the weight of his words, you let out a sigh, a subtle expression of your emotional exhaustion. 
With a gentle hand, you wiped away remnants of past tears from your cheeks, a physical reminder of the inner turmoil you were experiencing.
Unwilling or unable to articulate your thoughts, you remained quiet, lost in your internal struggle. Sensing your distress, Five moved closer, taking a seat beside you on the bed, offering silent support in his mere presence.
"It's all catching up to you.. I can see it," his voice broke the silence, filled with empathy and concern. 
His words echoed the unspoken turmoil within you, acknowledging the emotional storm brewing beneath your calm exterior. 
Seeking to console you, he gently nudged your arm, a subtle gesture.
"You're not alone here anymore, y/n," Five's soothing voice broke the heavy silence that enveloped the room. 
"We're in this together, through all the mistakes and regrets." The weight of his admission hung in the air as he ran a weary hand through his tousled hair, a gesture of resignation. "And it's not easy for you, especially with the withdrawals taking their toll on you."
Your exhaustion was palpable as you slowly lifted your gaze to meet Five's, a mix of weariness and defiance flickering in your eyes. His intense stare, filled with a mix of concern and understanding, lingered blood marks marring your face.
"We should clean you up before we head out," Five's voice held a firm resolve as he rose and extended a hand in offer of assistance. You hesitated, a myriad of conflicting emotions swirling within you, before shaking your head subtly.
"Just go on ahead without me," your voice was barely above a whisper, laced with a sense of defeat. "I'll catch up."
"Um, no," he said firmly as he kept his hand outstretched towards you.
"I just-" you started to plead.
"None of that. Come on." he interrupted as he reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring as he helped you up and guided you towards the bathroom. 
The familiar scent of soap and fresh towels enveloped you as you followed his lead.
As your feet shuffled into the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice how his hand felt firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability.
Five, in a tender and caring manner, guides you to take a seat on the closed toilet lid, surprisingly showing genuine concern for your well-being. 
He then moistens a soft wash cloth with warm water before kneeling before you, demonstrating a genuine gesture of care and support as he delicately wipes away the traces of blood from your face.
Gratitude fills you as you gaze at Five, appreciating his kindness and attentiveness. However, an undercurrent of guilt still lingers within you, a nagging feeling that he shouldn't have to go through this trouble for you.
With deliberate patience, Five continues to clean the blood from your face. 
His touch is soothing as he carefully smoothes your furrowed brow with the pad of his thumb, providing comfort and reassurance in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.
As you lean into the gentle touch, a sense of connection forms between you, the unspoken bond between you both palpable, locked in a silent exchange 
"I'm scared, Five," you admitted in a whisper, your voice tinged with fear and vulnerability.
Five responded with a single nod, his expression reflecting understanding and concern. He rose from his seat to rinse the washcloth, then returned to tenderly clean your hands.
"What exactly are you afraid of?" he inquired gently, his eyes maintaining a steady gaze on yours.
With a heavy sigh, you hesitated briefly before responding. "I'm afraid of seeing you and the others getting hurt. When we found Allison- the thought of losing her, of her never seeing her daughter again—it was too much."
"But she's safe now, Y/N," Five interjected, his voice calm yet filled with reassurance, as he set the washcloth down with a sigh.
In that moment, you felt a wave of gratitude for Five's supportive presence.
He smiles at you with gentle reassurance, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "She'll be okay. I was okay too, and believe me, you will be okay as well." You can sense the sincerity in his voice as he tries to calm your anxieties.
Concern etched on your face, you raise the issue of Klaus, noting his peculiar behavior since his time-travel adventure. "What about Klaus? Ever since he went back in time, he seems so different," you express, your voice tinged with worry.
With a touch of urgency, he hushes you by placing a single finger delicately against your lips. "Shh," he murmurs softly. 
"Once we put a stop to the apocalypse, you will come to realize that I'm right, okay?" His words carry a sense of conviction, attempting to provide some solace in the midst of uncertainty.
As you process his statement, you find yourself blinking in contemplation. After a moment of reflection, you offer a hesitant nod in acknowledgement. 
"Good," Five nods reassuringly, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as he extends a helping hand to guide you back onto your feet. 
Standing chest to chest, a comfortable silence lingers between you both as your gazes lock, Five's warm hands securely holding onto yours, offering a sense of comfort and stability.
As the moment stretches on, you find yourself unconsciously leaning in slightly, a silent invitation that Five instinctively reciprocates, closing the physical space between you. 
You tentatively wrap your arms around him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek as you rest your head against his chest, finding solace in the quiet intimacy shared between you both.
For a suspended moment, Five remains still, absorbing the embrace before a subtle shift in his posture signals his response, his hand now gently rubbing soothing circles on your back. 
The exchange of unspoken emotions and shared connection deepens as the hug becomes a silent understanding, a reassurance of support.
"Thank you," you say sincerely, the gratitude palpable in your voice as you hold Five close to you, finding solace in his presence.
Five returns your gratitude with a gentle nod, a reassuring smile playing on his lips, though you can't see it. He leans down, resting his chin on the top of your head, his closeness offering you a sense of security and warmth.
"We'll be okay," Five's voice is filled with unwavering confidence and optimism, his words resonating deep within your soul, instilling a sense of hope in the midst of uncertainty. 
"We all will," he assures you.
~~~
As Diego sharpened his knife, the urgency in his voice emphasized the danger that lingered, the threat unchallenged by the elusive enemy who had sought to harm their sister. 
"The bastard that nearly killed our sister's still out there, with Vanya." he declared, his eyes reflecting determination. "We need to go after her."
Five, ever the voice of reason, shook his head, showing a sign of weariness as he assessed the situation. "Vanya is not important." he emphasized, a sense of prioritization evident in his demeanor.
Before discussing your next steps, you and Five returned to the academy's common area, the gravity of the looming threat still hanging in the air. 
Standing side by side near the couch, you had changed out of the blood-stained sweater, the evidence of recent events now gone.
It was a detail worth noting that amidst the tension and action, you were still holding Five's hand, a physical gesture that conveyed trust, even in the face of uncertainty.
Diego, his eyes fixed on Five, expresses his disapproval at the comment regarding his sister. "Hey, that's your sister." he glares at Five. "A little heartless even for you, Five." he remarks sternly. 
As you sympathetically agree with Diego's sentiment, you shake your head in disbelief at Five's apparent lack of concern. "Thats mean, Five" 
Five, feeling the weight of his words, lets out a deep sigh. "I'm not saying I don't care about her, but if the apocalypse happens today, she dies along with the other seven billion of us." he rephrases. "Harold Jenkins is our first priority."
"I agree. Let's go." Diego asserts, his resolve unwavering. 
"You guys count me out," Klaus says, leaning his head back on the armchair he was sitting on, his words carrying a mix of vulnerability and resignation. 
"I mean, you know, no offense or whatever. It's just... I kind of feel like this is a whole lot of pressure for newly-sober me, so..." he trails off, his gaze darting away momentarily, a subtle sign of uncertainty. 
"You're coming,"
"yeah Klaus, come on," 
"No, no, no," Klaus waved his hands, his gestures accentuating the seriousness of his statement. "I mean, I think we can all agree that my power... well, it's not exactly the most practical, is it? In fact, let's face it, it's practically worthless. I would only drag all of you down."
"Klaus, get up," demanded Diego, his voice edged with a sense of urgency.
"You can't make me," Klaus responded cheekily, challenging Diego's authority.
Unperturbed, Diego displayed his mastery as he expertly hurled a knife with precision, aiming it between Klaus' legs. The blade cut through the air with a menacing swish, prompting Klaus to flinch and widen his eyes in a mixture of surprise and apprehension.
Klaus lets out a weary sigh, his thoughts drifting to the idea of getting some exercise. "Oh, then again, a little exercise couldn't hurt," he muses before pushing himself up from his seat. 
Taking a moment to stretch, he finally stands upright, all of you leaving the academy once again.
~~~
"What on earth is that smell- OH MY GOD!" you flinch back, taken aback by the nauseating stench that hit your senses, your eyes widening in horror as they fall upon the lifeless form of Harold Jenkins sprawled on the kitchen floor. 
Various kitchen utensils protrude from his chest, a grim sight that renders you speechless for a moment. 
The ghastly scene, compounded by one of his eyes missing from its socket, sends a shiver down your spine.
"Oh man.." Klaus reacts, instinctively covering his nose to shield himself from the putrid odor emanating from the macabre tableau. 
"It's not exactly what I was expecting," he remarks, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and unease.
In a futile attempt to cope with the gruesome sight, you let out a guttural groan of disgust, unable to tear your gaze away.
"The understatement of the year," Five remarks, his voice tinged with a hint of dark humor as he surveys the scene.
"No sign of Vanya-" Diego's voice trailed off as he glanced around anxiously, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone. "Let's get out of here, before the cops come."
"In a minute," Five responded calmly, his curiosity piqued as he took a few deliberate steps closer to the lifeless body sprawled on the floor, his hand reaching into his pocket. 
Diego couldn't hide his confusion, his brow furrowing as he watched Five's movements with a mix of disgust and intrigue. "Come on, Five, what are you..." His words faded into the air as Five knelt down beside the body, delicately pressing the glass eye into Harold's lifeless corpse.
Klaus couldn't contain his revulsion, a guttural retching noise escaping his lips as he witnessed the eerie scene unfold. "Ugh, wow," he managed to utter, a hint of unease coloring his voice amidst the tension hanging heavy in the room.
As you stand there, completely taken aback by what you are witnessing, your mouth hangs open in disbelief. "Five, is this necessary?" you manage to question, but the response you receive is anything but direct.
With a grin spreading across his face, Five explains, "Same eye color, same pupil size." he grins. "Guys this is it. The eye I've been carrying around for decades, it... It's found its rightful home."
As he turns to face all of you, the look of accomplishment and satisfaction is unmistakable on his smiling face.
In an attempt to show your support, you raise your hand in a thumbs-up gesture, though inside, you can't shake off the feeling of utter revulsion at the bizarre situation unfolding before you.
As Five reached back to retrieve the glass eye from the lifeless body, a rush of desperation took hold of you. "Wait, please, no -. Please, just leave it," you implored.
Ignoring your pleas, Five nonchalantly pocketed the eye, his face cold and unaffected by your distress.
Struggling to articulate your thoughts, you attempted to voice the overwhelming sense of unease that washed over you. "Do you even know how- how- how absolutely disgusting that is?" you questioned as Five drew nearer to you, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room.
With a dismissive shrug, he responded callously, "What? The guys dead. You think he needs it?"
Refusing to back down, you challenge him further. "Do you?"
Diego spoke up confidently, "We got the guy we needed to kill to stop the apocalypse."
"Yay! Let's go." Excitedly, Klaus began to make plans to depart, only to be halted by Diego's firm grip on the back of his shirt. 
Your keen observation revealed a critical detail, someone had already taken care of the target individual before them. 
"No we didn't, someone else got to him first." Five concurred with your assessment and reached into his other pocket, producing a note from the Commission. 
"Look, this is the note that I got from the Commission. The one that says, 'Protect Harold Jenkins,' aka Leonard Peabody." Gesturing towards the paper as evidence
"Yeah?"
Five seemed to be growing increasingly stressed by the second, his urgency palpable as he questioned, "But who killed him? Who did this?" 
In response, Klaus, known for his eccentricity, proposed a rather unconventional idea. "I have a crazy idea," he began. 
"Crazy, but why don't we seek out Vanya... and ask her what happened?" Your reaction was one of nonchalance as you simply shrugged in contemplation.
Upon hearing Klaus's suggestion, you found yourself unexpectedly agreeing with a hint of approval seeping into your tone. "That... is actually not a bad idea," you admitted. 
Five reached out and grasped your arm tightly before suddenly activating his temporal abilities, transporting both of you back to the academy in a blur of motion.
"Dude, we should go back and help them," you huff impatiently while staring off in the direction where the others are struggling. 
"You can't keep just blinking me everywhere you go, Five," you warn with a firm tone.
A look of determination crosses Five's face as he meets your gaze, his eyes revealing a sense of responsibility beyond his years. 
"I can't leave you with Klaus," he asserts, his voice carrying a weight of concern that you can't ignore.
Confusion clouds your expression as you process his words, trying to understand his intentions. "What do you mean?" you inquire, seeking clarity in the midst of the chaos unfolding around you.
With a steady voice, Five begins to explain his reasoning, painting a picture of caution and foresight. 
"He may be sober on his own terms right now, but you're not," he states matter-of-factly, emphasizing the importance of your well-being in this precarious situation. 
"You're staying with me so you don't get tempted," he concludes, the seriousness of his words sinking in as you come to grasp the depth of his concern.
You scoffed, clearly offended by the lack of trust. "Do you seriously doubt me that much?" you questioned.
"Less than a day ago, you were on the brink of drowning yourself in alcohol," Five pointed out, reminding you of the dangerous situation you had put yourself in.
Feeling defensive, you dismissed the comparison with a casual wave of your hand. "That was different," you retorted, trying to downplay the severity of your past actions.
Five clenches his jaw, the tension evident in the rigid lines of his face as he looks at you with genuine anger. "It is not different," he states firmly, his voice laced with a hint of warning. 
"Don't you dare think I forgot about those pills you threw up either, or the joint you shared with Klaus at the funeral. Or that shit you put in your coffee at Griddy's."
"Weed is legal-"
Five cuts you off before you can finish. "But were those pills?" he challenges, his gaze piercing through you. 
You stumble over your words, trying to backtrack. "Well, not necessarily," you admit sheepishly.
The air between you grows heavy with unspoken accusations as Five's anger hovers palpably around him like a storm cloud. His clenched jaw speaks volumes about his pent-up frustration and disappointment in you. 
The weight of his disapproval presses down on you, making it hard to meet his intense gaze.
"How long has it been..?" As you asked about the time since the last time you consumed drugs or alcohol, you could sense a mix of guilt in your stomach
Five took a moment to collect his thoughts, exhaling deeply before revealing, "I suppose it's been nearly two days now."
Your response was a quiet hum as you absorbed the reality of the situation. Such a short span of time, and yet the weight of the impending withdrawal symptoms lingered like a shadow over your thoughts. 
"Wow.. Once the adrenaline wears off I'm going to feel like shit." You remarked with a forced chuckle that failed to mask the apprehension in your voice. 
The bitter truth lay in the stark contrast between the fleeting high and the enduring pain that awaited – a cycle that seemed unbreakable at times.
Five's expression carried a tinge of disappointment as his eyes settled on you. With a tone tinged with concern, he remarked, "You can't just go back to that lifestyle, just take a look at yourself."
An air of solemnity surrounded his actions as he gently raised your sleeve, his fingers grazing over the rehabilitation bracelet adorning your wrist.
His touch then traced over the faint marks left by old needles on your forearm, just above the inked design that you had gotten from the Commission. 
Despite noticing the scars, he chose not to voice any judgment. The unspoken understanding between you both was palpable in that moment, a silent acknowledgment of your struggles.
The weight of his unspoken words lingered in the air, echoing the concern and care he held for you. It was in those quiet actions and shared glances that conveyed more than words ever could. 
You let out a heavy sigh, your gaze fixed on him as you contemplate his words. "If you stick around for a bit after all of this, I guess I'll give sobriety a shot," you confess.
Five scoffs dismissively before releasing his grip on you, his expression now serious. "It's not just about giving it a shot, Sparks," he asserts firmly. 
"You are done with that destructive cycle. It's time to let go." His words carry a hint of concern.
With a resigned exhalation, you acknowledge, "I understand that. It's just..." You pause, your arms folding across your chest as you try to articulate the struggles you face. 
"It's been such a long time..," you concede, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. "I mean, years have passed since I was sober."
Five nodded affirmatively, his expression a mix of determination and certainty. 
"Well, now I'm here, and when I commit, I commit," he declared, his hands finding their place confidently on his hips.
"Speaking of commitments, we should probably figure out where Vanya went," you playfully suggested, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "At least after we relax a little."
Five exhaled audibly, a hint of resignation evident in his voice. "You're right. Since when have you become so punctual?" he quizzed, raising an eyebrow in genuine curiosity.
"I suppose you're rubbing off on me a little," you admitted with a light chuckle.
"Don't let it go to your head."
~~~
Diego had unexpectedly barged into the academy only moments later, claiming to have unfinished business with Hazel and Cha-Cha before hastily departing again.
Despite the abrupt intrusion, there was still no sign of Vanya, her absence casting a lingering shadow over your thoughts. 
Concern for her well-being crept into your mind, as you couldn't shake off the worry entirely, although a slight sense of relief filled you knowing that her psycho boyfriend was no longer a threat. 
Now, perched at the bar, you fixed a stern gaze on Five, who nonchalantly prepared himself a margarita, the deliberate action not escaping your notice.
 It was clear that he was purposefully trying to provoke a reaction, his smug demeanor only adding to your growing frustration.
"Quit shaking," Five said with a playful tone, caused by the subtle movement of your bouncing leg under the table. 
"I'm making you one too," Five added, making a gesture towards the leg in question. 
Your eyes lit up with excitement upon hearing this news. "Really?" you asked, unable to contain your grin. 
Matching your smile, Five responded with a smirk of his own. "A virgin margarita," he teased, trying to play down your enthusiasm. 
You groan in exhaustion, your head finding solace on the familiar wooden surface of the countertop. "The apocolypse is over, why cant I just have a little?" Your voice carries a touch of yearning.
"Because you'll be too tempted to have more." Five responds nonchalantly.
He effortlessly slides a glass towards you, the condensation glistening under the dim light, and playfully places a decorative umbrella in your drink. 
With a smirk, he continues, "And as your mentor, apparently, I won't let you take that risk."His conviction is unwavering.
As you raise your head, a gentle sigh escapes your lips, conveying your gratitude as you nod in acknowledgment before taking a sip of the drink. 
"It doesn't even burn on the way down, this sucks." You remark.
"Yet here you are, continuing to drink it," Five comments casually, adjusting Dolores on the seat beside him before joining you, settling down comfortably.
Absently swirling the drink in your glass with the straw, you find yourself unable to sit still, your leg unconsciously bouncing up and down in a restless rhythm.
Five's comforting touch lands gently on your thigh, effectively halting your restless fidgeting.
"Stop it," he interjects, not bothering to meet your gaze as he casually takes a sip from his beverage, his tone firm yet reassuring.
Feeling his presence, you heed his request and obediently cease your nervous movements, your eyes drifting downwards to the unassuming floor beneath you.
Eventually, Five's eyes return to meet yours, his expression now filled with a mix of empathy and wisdom. 
"You'll get through it. Once the itch for more stops it'll be easy." he imparts in a tone that conveys both understanding and encouragement.
You scoffed in disbelief, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Nothing's ever easy, Five," you began, a touch of exasperation evident in your tone. 
"And I'm not itching for it-" Your words trailed off, a mixture of frustration and resignation coloring your expression as you spoke.
Amused by your attempt at denial, Five couldn't stifle a laugh, his eyes twinkling mischievously. In response, you flung your decorative umbrella in his direction, a playful hint of irritation in your actions. 
"You're not funny." 
Rolling his eyes, Five removed his hand from your now motionless thigh, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, please," he retorted, a playful arrogance evident in his expression. 
"I'm hilarious," he declared confidently, a teasing glint in his eyes as he spoke.
As you sat there, finishing off the last drops of your drink, you couldn't help but sense a newfound sense of refreshment washing over you. 
It was a strange feeling, considering the absence of any alcohol.
Looking up, you noticed Five observing you with a knowing smile. "Seems like you enjoyed it," he remarked, earning a curious look from you in return.
"So what if I did?" You replied, feeling a sense of defiance bubbling within you.
Five simply shrugged, his nonchalant demeanor never faltering. "So now, whenever you feel that familiar craving for a drink, just remember that feeling. Maybe that's all you need instead."
His words lingered in the air, stirring a mix of contemplation and intrigue within you. 
Could a simple non-alcoholic drink really satisfy those persistent cravings you often succumbed to? 
It was a thought worth pondering as you finished the last of your drink, a newfound sense of possibility blooming within you.
"Since when are you 'teacher of the year'?" you inquire, leaning slightly closer to Five, who responds with a brief chuckle. 
"Since I decided you were worth my time." he muses.
"And when did you decide that?" you press curiously.
"Eh, I guess when you helped stop the end of the world."he answers, gazing at you with an affectionate smile. "No big deal or anything."
As you both leaned closer, exchanging smiles, you casually brushed a tiny speck of dust off Five's shoulder, a small but intimate gesture that seemed to draw you even closer. 
"Not a big deal, huh?" you quipped playfully, breaking the brief tension with a light touch.
Seeing your smile, Five's smirk widened almost imperceptibly before he impulsively took hold of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours in a bold move. 
"Nah, not at all. There are more pressing matters to attend to," he replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on yours.
Curious about his cryptic response, you prodded gently, "Oh? Like what?" sensing a shift in the air between you two as he set his drink aside. 
Without missing a beat, Five brought his free hand up to sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you. 
The subtle gesture, though seemingly innocuous, carried an unspoken promise of closeness and shared moments to come.
"Well, for one, I need to get clothes that aren't just the academy uniforms," he jokes, chuckling at the familiar topic. His playful smirk infectious.
Observing his playful complaint, you can't help but make a pouting face, adding a touch of mock lament to your expression. 
"Aw, but it's so adorable, seeing you in that sweater vest, and your cute little tie," you playfully tease, your eyes glinting mischievously. 
Reaching out to lightly tug on his tie, you pull him a bit closer, enjoying the proximity as your laughter fills the space between you.
Five glares are directed right at you, playful in nature. "It's anything but cute, sparky," he begins, his fingers leisurely tracing down to gently caress your cheek. "If anything is cute, it's that stupid grin on your face."
In that moment, a warm flush engulfs your cheeks as you realize the truth of his words. The presence of that foolish smile on your lips becomes evident. 
It seems like a light switch flicking on, enlightening you to a truth that was previously hidden. Your heart flutters a bit, caught off guard by the unexpected thrill of his touch and the charming words he spoke. 
The air around you seems charged with a newfound electricity, a magnetic pull drawing you closer to him. A delightful shiver runs down your spine, marking this encounter as a moment to be cherished. 
As Five leaned in closer, his breath mingled with yours, the warmth of his proximity palpable against your skin. His nose almost teasingly brushed yours, creating a subtle electricity in the shared air. 
"I can't tell if it's the absence of alcohol or simply just me that has you trembling," he mused, his tone a delicate mix of curiosity and amusement.
With gentle precision, he extended a single finger to your neck, seeking out the rapid, erratic pulse beneath your skin. 
You couldn't help but inhale shakily, the closeness of his touch sending a cascade of sensations through your body. 
"Oh, my dear, you poor thing," he whispered, voice soft and empathetic, "your heartbeat is through the roof right now."
His words resonated in the charged atmosphere between you, adding a layer of intimacy to the shared moment. 
You close your eyes to savor the moment as Five leans in closer, his warm breath teasing your skin before his lips lightly brush against yours. 
And then.. the doorbell rings.
~~~
A/N - oops they dont kiss (yet) and five making himself your mentor to stay sober is just too cute to pass up.
too bad they dont have long before they are seperated lmao </3
word count -  5334
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shakespearean-snape · 2 years ago
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I’m rereading OOTP right now and I find that scene between Severus and Sirius in the kitchen to be highly relevant in the context of Severus as a feminine-coded character (and Sirius as a representation of toxic masculinity). Sirius is very outwardly aggressive in this scene in a conventionally masculine way, while Severus weaponizes his sarcasm and wit in a way that could be thought of as a more “feminine” form of defence. While Harry describes Sirius’s voice as getting progressively louder and angrier, he describes Severus’s voice as “soft” in contrast (as he usually does, which is also interesting in the context of Severus as a feminine man/GNC character). Sirius gets up and tries to intimidate Severus physically, and Severus grips his wand inside his pocket in a way that reminded me of a victim of domestic violence preparing to defend herself against her abuser.
I’m not sure how much of this was intentional considering how rigid JKR’s views on gender have unfortunately turned out to be, but I can’t help but read Severus as a feminine character, especially since he’s meant to act as a stand in for Lily in the same way as Sirius acts as a stand in for James. It’s very easy to read Sev as gender non conforming and/or LGBTQ, although given JKR’s own views it’s doubtful she meant for us to read him that way (but fuck her, she’s a massive transphobe, the characters are ours now, we can do what we like with them).
Note to self, start checking your inbox regularly. These changes to Tumblr are killing me because the notifications when I get messages or asks are hit-or-miss at best.
Anyways, this is such a great observation! I'm only just learning about coding and that that is even the term for it from reading about it from other Snape bloggers like @idealistic-realism00, @raptured-night, and @professormcguire since I only took the required English courses both my undergraduate years and beyond that my major was in sociology.
So, I'm not really any kind of expert but I do have a lot of personal experience from being biracial and queer myself just with learning to read between the lines and find representation for myself where I can and I think that is the case for a lot of people from less represented, marginalized backgrounds. We have a certain instinct for these things so even without any kind of formal study we sort of know the "codes" (for better or worse depending on what the author's intent is and if it's a negative dog-whistle or something more positive to get around censorships of the time) if that makes any kind of sense.
For me, I always saw Sirius and Snape as two sides of a coin. There were some very obvious parallels and contrasts between them and this really goes to that in a lot of ways for me. Both Sirius and Snape are two men who made pivotal choices in their youths that very much define them and have led to a great deal of internalized guilt and impacted their behaviors as adults. Both Sirius and Snape find themselves confined to their childhood homes at different points, Sirius at Grimmauld Place with Kreacher and Snape at Spinner's End with Peter Pettigrew (both Kreacher and Peter are characters that also are known for betraying Harry and costing him someone he loves at different points and making a turn around in regards to Harry because of kindness or mercy he showed to them).
Where Sirius made the choice to make Peter the Secret Keeper with only James, Lily, and Peter knowing and it ultimately led to the death of the Potters and him being sentenced to twelve years in Azkaban, Snape also unwittingly delivered part of the fated prophecy that led to Voldemort targeting the Potters. Most interesting for me is that Snape's friendship with Lily and Sirius's friendship with James could be read as either platonic or a case of unrequited romantic feelings. There is the observation in SWM made by Harry that while Sirius was clearly a looker who attracted the attention of girls, his attention was fully on James and not on those admiring glances. So, when looking at Sirius's relationship with James through a comparative lens to Snape's with Lily they could be platonic friends or both Sirius and Snape could have had romantic feelings for their best friends while, ironically enough, Sirius had to watch James fall for and succeed in winning over Lily just as Snape had to do the same.
In the case of Snape and Sirius there is also a degree of regression and arrested development stemming from trauma (and both men at different points make the clear mistake of seeing Harry as a stand-in for James as a result of said trauma). Where Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban able to hold onto his sanity against the Dementors in part because he knew he was innocent and the truth of what happened was a deeply unhappy thing for him, Snape spent decades in Dumbledore's service at Hogwarts (a place with its own unhappy associations for him having found it was not a refuge from life at Spinner's End with Tobias as he had hoped but another place where he would be bullied relentlessly, overlooked by his Head of House and housemates for being a poor half-blood with no status, subject to institutional failures resulting from yet more adult authority figures in his life not protecting him, groomed by Voldemort's followers and responsible for alienating his closest friend as a result) teaching children when clearly he does not have the temperament and, courtesy of his role as a spy, concealing his own truths and intentionally not allowing people to know the best of him. In a sense, both men had a negative public image that ran counter to the full truth about them and both of them died without being able to see those misconceptions vindicated (Sirius died still presumed by the Ministry and general public to have been the traitor who turned his friends over to Voldemort and murdered innocent people and Snape died knowing he had delivered information to Harry that would lead to his death and unsure of the outcome of the war with everyone thinking him a coward and murderer).
There's just, a LOT of parallels there between the two when you start to unpack them as characters. Even the fact that they both came from domestic dysfunction and unhappy home lives. It makes their mutual antagonism all the more of a tragedy because if not for Sirius's prejudice (which is arguably more understandable given his family and their long tradition of being sorted into Slytherin) against Slytherins and antagonism of young Snape on the train and the years of bullying and bad blood that followed, these two men had the most potential to understand each other. Alas, they do not, but it is their likenesses that makes their differences in how they clash all the more interesting because, as you noted, there are stark differences there. Sirius is all overt masculine energy; hot-headed and physically imposing while Snape is more strained, the ice to his fire.
Most striking to me was always the difference in how little respect Sirius showed to Snape's body while he was unconscious (further demonstrating how little Sirius has changed from the teenage boy who once stood with James and exposed Snape to laughing schoolmates) versus how Snape conjured a stretcher while still under the impression he was the one responsible for betraying the Potters (and the death of Lily). In that way, we get to see how Snape has developed as a person away from his past choices and learned from them. He may still regress, as he does quite plainly when forced to return to the Shrieking Shack and is confronted by Sirius and Remus there, but he isn't quite in the full state of arrested development as Sirius (but given his circumstances in Azkaban that isn't entirely surprising either; there is a tragedy to Sirius's character for all that there is as much of a darkness as there was in Snape during his time as a Death Eater and the fact so many Marauder apologists who double as "Snaters" refuse to acknowledge that outside of romanticizing the angst of it all while vilifying Snape is quite possibly an even greater tragedy, imo) which is why Sirius's death came in part due to his inability to move beyond his past and find it within himself to treat Kreacher with a modicum of understanding or empathy (in addition to his desire to be part of the action again and recapture his lost youth when it was him and James in the Order together) while Snape's death came only after he had to reconcile with the fact his original raison d'être for becoming a spy (to protect Harry for Lily as penance) ran counter to what was needed to defeat Voldemort for good and he still chose to stay the course instead of pursue his own agenda and act on his own self-interests.
In short, Sirius's death was partly due to the fact he couldn't move beyond the past. While Snape's death came as a result of the fact he had grown enough as a character to set aside his past motivations and see things through because he had become someone who conjured stretchers even for hated enemies and risked his life to save all those who he could save (including Sirius and Remus).
Thanks for the ask and I'm so sorry it took so long to respond but it gave me even more to think about. The masculine vs. feminine coding just adds an extra element to Snape and Sirius's dynamic when it was already interesting to me and I've always had a lot of thoughts about how those two were written with so many parallels and points of contrast. Love this ask!
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tiptoeing my way into your ask box: should merlin have revealed his magic in the sins of the father episode
THE WAY I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS ASK😭😭😭😭 mbbb but im here now!!! so hi:))
ok so this is the second ask youve sent me that ive literally never thought of once in my life so prepare youself for a brainDUMP
my answer is completely and irrevocably: yes. i can't imagine myself having another opinion on it, because i think you found the only episode in the entire series where a magic reveal would have been a natural and understandable choice, by both the writers and the characters (except for of course the last episode, but i have many feelings on the execution of the actual magic reveal, of which are for another ask lol).
but because im an unnecessary bitch, i'm going to answer this question twice with the same answer (why? because im a nuisance to everyone around me, thats why) by interpreting the question differently. the first interpretation? should merlin have revealed his magic in the sins of the father, as in should MERLIN have revealed his magic. was that the right decision for him to make in this episode? would that have ended in the best outcome? would that have improved the situation? just morally, was that the right choice to make?
i thought about it, and at first i was torn, because arthur was a wreck at this point. he felt angry, betrayed, devastated, and rightfully so. is this really the best time for his best friend of probably over a year, by this point, to admit to him that he was born with magic? and while this definitely would have been a tricky time to do it, i think this is the only episode in which arthur shows completely empathy and compassion towards magic. for once in this series, he doesn't blame magic for all the wrongs in the world, or even reservedly believe that magic may not be a thing to persecute for but can certainly never be trusted—he is fully open to magic and believes that every negative thing he ever knew of it, all stemming from his father, is completely wrong. obviously, this is because he took his hatred for magic and swapped it with his respect for his father due to the switched roles they had in his life (magic: the deceiver, the killer, the villian; uther: the protector, the victim, the hero; but yk, swapped in this episode) but that doesn't make his open mind to magic (IN THIS EPISODE!!) any less real.
so, ik that was a lot lol, but if merlin had told arthur about his magic at this point, i think itd be one of the only times when that revelation would cause arthur to feel angry and betrayed not really because of the magic, but because merlin hadn't told him. and i'm sorry, at any other point in the series, imo, that wouldn't be true. the deception itself may be the root of the hurt, but the magic would just be salt in the wound.
and!! not even to mention the fact that arthur was going to kill uther. instead of lying to him, merlin should have admitted that he has magic, told him not to kill him, explained whatever information he knew (yk, about nimueh or literally anything because he definitely knew more than arthur did, atp). would arthur have felt the betrayal twofold? of course, but i do think that this would have hit him hard enough to stop on his rampage to kill uther. it definitely would have been difficult to get him to STOP long enough to tell him lol, but i think merlin could have done it. all in all, it definitely would have been difficult to execute, but i think overall it would have been the right choice for all the right reasons.
now, onto the second interpretation of the question: should merlin have revealed his magic in the sins of the father, as in the WRITERS should have revealed his magic. and that answer is a resounding fucking YES!!!! im so so sorry, but merlin and arthur's relationship was ridiculous. i can (and will with the slightest prompting) go into an insane amount of depth and detail into why i hate their relationship development despite being obsessed with their dynamic (most of the time) and why i think as the MAIN DUO OF THE ENTIRE FUCKING SHOW deserved better, but i'll try to keep it short and sweet. in season one, their relationship was developed almost perfectly. sure, there definitely should have been more time from the first episode and onwards of actual contempt between them, but besides that i think the writers really did a very good job at building their relationship and dynamic.
then comes the giant fucking spiky, iron wrecking ball that is season two. immediately, all the trust and obvious affection and friendliness built in the first season just... disappears. i honestly think that a change in their dynamic was necessary! but with the current canon, there is absolutely no reason for it, and the changes that there were, quite frankly, sucked. they were completely unnecessary. but start off season two with them being all chummy and just genuinely good friends, and merlin starts to feel guilty for not telling arthur about his magic. (that's another thing about this goddamn show. i honestly can't think of a single time merlin expressed any actual guilt for lying to arthur about his magic for an entire fucking decade?? for the most part, all he expresses his fear at the possibility of arthur finding out, which makes me want to kick scream chew on someones eyelids and just generally maul someones face, but whatever ig. but this guilt could definitely result in some distance and loss of trust, and then it keeps building and building and building until... BANG! fucking magic reveal!!
its also perfect for the reason that, im sorry, i dont believe for a fucking second that season one arthur (MY arthur, thanks) would even LET merlin not tell him about his magic for TEN GODDAMN YEARS. he would sniff that shit out and wait patiently for merlin to spill before confronting him after like a month. because in season one, arthur definitely wasn't ready for a magic reveal. they weren't close enough, there wasn't enough trust, arthur hadn't grown enough yet, all the things. but season two? proved the perfect opportunity for all that to happen, and then on you can have ACTAUL GOOD CONFLICT instead of the entire conflict being "oh well merlins secret🥺" ........................SHUT THE FUCK UP
anyways, i think thats my whole opinion?? overall i just really think that the magic reveal should have happened longgg before the finale and this episode is the absolute perfect place for it to occur:)) thank you sm for the ask!! i had a lot of fun with this one if you couldn't tell lol. sorry for forgetting about it😭😭 so glad your back tho, and cant wait to have you lurking in my inbox again!!!
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kaibacorpintern · 1 year ago
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I think by the time of DK arc Seto already knew about Yugi’s other self. So the infamous castle top battle leaves me wondering: did he think Atem/Yami would be merciful enough to spare him or did he count on Yugi’s interference?
He was definitely not counting on Yuugi's interference. For most of the series, he barely registers Yuugi as someone whose opinions or actions he should care about. As far as he is concerned, Yuugi is whatever, and Yami is the Yuugi he cares about.
But he wasn't counting on Yami's mercy either - Yami hasn't shown him any mercy before this; why would he show any mercy now? He already knows Yami is willing to punish/hurt him if he loses a game (mind crush, penalty game) - although these two punishments aren't exclusively for losing the game, but rather punishments for everything that came before (stealing the card, betraying the heart of the cards, all of Death-T, etc.) They are not "if you lose, you die" in its most abstract, refined form. They are referendums on Kaiba's behavior/actions/villainy before the duel.
The castle duel is NOT the same kind of referendum on Kaiba's actions, and he IS asking Yami to make the same kind of judgment Gozaburo made: if I am not strong enough to win/save the person I love, do I deserve to die? And even though Yami doesn't want to punish/hurt him in this duel, and he doesn't really know that all of this is going through Kaiba's head, Kaiba does maneuver him into this position of being forced to decide whether he'd rather save him or save Grandpa. Yami chooses Grandpa--chooses against saving Kaiba--and I think Kaiba is fully prepared to accept that response as an answer to his existential question: "If I'm not strong enough to save Mokuba, I might as well be dead, and he agrees with me."
...which is all part of a very interesting pattern of Kaiba lobbing these philosophical fastballs at Atem (if I lose, do I deserve to die? does teamwork really mean anything? what happens when friends fight each other? won't you just scramble to save your OWN life? is friendship even REAL? are you really dead? was our bond real?), and Atem answering them, with various degrees of success, throughout the manga.
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yingren · 2 months ago
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"okay, as i have tortured you enough lately with filters and dances, some streams and maybe even accidental memes - don't ask - i think it's about time i try to uno reverse these hangouts with you , ren ! "
at the sound of his name she's already beaming , even going as far as , yes , pulling out a small uno reverse card. it's time to make a change! to be bold, brace and adventurous! so bold that she, in fact, wiggles the card in front of him for a small moment, those warm golden eyes of guinaifen's fluttering excitedly. she had drowned the poor guy in pop culture, movies, game theories and who knows what. now it would be his turn to return the favor, tenfold and epicly!
" i think it's about time you show me some of your hobbies and whatnot ! " shifting the card a little to the side she'd peak past it with a softening smile. " i think i went a little too hard the last time with the dance , and , like , i feel a little bit bad for it - even though it looked super cool - as you seemed kinda stressed out! that's why I'm giving you the opportunity to get revenge on me! anything you wanna do , I'll join in on it! i can totes be a strong, awesome fighter or something ! concrete blocks don't stand a chance against these guns ! "
and, much to poor ren's sanity, she would flex for him. that's right. she was fully prepared to join him in on anything!
for once, ren thinks he’s actually catching a reference. or at the very least, he somewhat understands the meaning behind her words. though he knows it’s hardly an achievement, considering “uno reverse” isn’t exactly the most cryptic phrase to decipher. he’s played the game before, courtesy of a particularly dull evening spent humoring firefly, so he picks up on it quickly this time. the card waved in front of him only adds to the moment, paired with guinaifen’s undeniable charm. that’s one of the best things about being around guinaifen, she always manages to surprise him. time spent with her never feels wasted, though to call it spending time almost seems like an injustice. from ren’s perspective, it feels more like dedicating his time to her. whether it’s for odd pop culture references, the latest viral trend, or even elaborate game theories, he finds that he doesn’t actually mind. there’s something inherently compelling about people like her, those with an undeniable zest for life. that boundless energy, infectious and radiant. he’s sure that even someone like guinaifen has her low days, but generally speaking, she remains a constant force of light, always burning with a brilliance that seems entirely her own.
❝ how kind of you to entertain your senior citizens. ❞ a quiet laugh follows his words, nearly muffled by a soft exhale as he reaches for the card in her hands. his gaze flickers to the pose she strikes, the way she flexes ever so slightly to emphasize her confidence in her own strength. it almost makes him want to joke that one of his hobbies includes smashing concrete blocks or diving headfirst into any fight he can find. but that would be a waste of a perfectly good day. besides, it already feels irresponsible enough to keep coming back to the luofu just to see her—the least he can do is make sure she stays as far from trouble as possible.
❝ would it surprise you at all if i told you that i usually like to relax ? a good crossword puzzle is never a bad source of entertainment for me. that, or i like to try my hand at cooking sometimes. ❞ emphasis on the word try. some days, it comes easily. others, not so much. it mostly depends on the ingredients, the preparation process, whether or not he has to chop things into precise, delicate pieces. his hands betray him not just in crafting, but in the kitchen as well, though ren has no desire to linger on that thought. a faint smile tugs at his lips as he glances over at her, one hand combing through his hair, pushing it back. his gaze lingers on her features, searching for any hint of what she might be thinking, as if her expression alone could grant him clarity. if only he were a mind reader, he’d be spared the lingering doubts and potential embarrassment. his hobbies have never been particularly thrilling — not sword-swallowing, fire-breathing, ghost-hunting levels of exciting. but she asked, of her own accord, and so, he’ll answer.
❝ the stellaron hunters aren’t technically bound to stay together or not leave our ship, despite what people might believe, we do have more freedom than that. ❞ pulling his phone from his pocket, he takes a moment to navigate through his albums, scrolling past countless saved memories from the places he’s visited. if she’s paying attention, she’ll likely catch a glimpse of his camera roll — half of it filled with random snapshots, mostly of his cat, with the occasional rare photo of himself tucked between them. when he finally finds what he’s looking for, he stops and tilts the screen toward her. a picture of a lake fills the display, its water so pristine that it appears almost glass-like, crystal clear to the point of transparency. jagged rocks frame its edges, and a towering cliff stands over the deeper end, casting its silent watch over the scene.
❝ i like to go to new places, old places too. this is just one of the few i’ve recently enjoyed. ❞ reaching out, he swipes across the screen to reveal the next image, a live photo of the moving water, slightly shimmering under the light of the sun. ❝ how about we save the concrete blocks for next time and start off with some cliff diving ? unless, you know, you’re too scared ? ❞
@avaere / unprompted.
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astarlow · 2 years ago
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I'm currently unmotivated to write anything long and especially after the devs did us so dirty for the PVE announcement so here are some headcanons, imagines- whatever you want to call this to comfort me from the fact we're not getting the PVE we were promised 4 years ago
Overwatch crews
Slumber party whenever a mission is accomplished. Don't matter if everyone's weary as hell, with Lena and Hana running around you are sure to get yourself a slumber party every month. If said mission isn't a success though, it's more of  a chill hangout with the members of the team Hana, Satya and Angela will bring your ass to a shopping spree. Whether you like it or not so be prepared because with them, you're gonna spend the whole day out there. Honestly though, if you don't like it Lena, Fareeha and Brigitte are by the arcades or the sport terrain near the shopping alley. So whenever you feel like it, you can go there to play with them There’s another tradition going around, twice a month, a member of the team cooks for the rest of the crew. It started with Mei, Aleksandra and you talking about your culture’s food. Mei offered to cook for you two to taste Chinese cuisine which you gladly accepted. In return, you two would also cook your culture’s food. With time passing by, other members joined the tradition and now, Echo chooses who would cook for this month’s tasting food session It turned into a competition when Lena decided to vote for the best month’s food Mei, Ana and Brigitte for the moment are on the podium sharing the first place Lena and Hana have zero points. Lena almost burnt the kitchen once. Luckily, you were there to put out the fire She doesn’t have the patience to wait for things to cook For Hana, ever since she entered MEKA, she didn’t have the time to prepare food. The best she could do is boil water and put it on her noodles. Though, ever since she joined Overwatch, she has had a little bit more time so she takes lessons from Mei and Brigitte. Lena watches but never fully join because else, it’ll turn into a mess Every week, Vivian holds a shooting session training. The best shooter of the week gets a gift from her and is exempted from chores for the week Ana has been exempted from participating in this shooting session ever since she won five times in a row
Talon crews
Olivia doesn't stop her pranks, so either you decide to team up with her to prank the others or you go against her. If you prank her, she will at least remind you this once a  week. "Amigo/amiga, how could you do this to your best friend in the world?" sighs dramatically while placing an arm on her forehead "Can you believe this? My best friend, betraying me..." Or "oh no, the betrayal. Who could have foreseen  such an event?" Amelie is more often than not the victim of Olivia's pranks. It's gotten so bad one time Olivia and you couldn't set a foot near the base or she would snipe you from afar She's "kind" Enough to not use real bullets but let's say you had bruises for the following weeks Moira is a target you two don't prank because you've been under her wrath and let's just say, it's not pleasant at all Olivia does try to get all of you to enjoy some vacation time. She does separate Amelie and  Moira, because she knows Amelie is showing more and more emotions and she doesn't want her to return to that cold emotionless assassin Talon turned her into. So for her sake, she keeps Moira away from her When Olivia, Amelie and yourself are out for a mission or a vacation, Amelie will make sure to make at least one comment on the food. She grew up with the finest food so she knows what good food is or not. You once bought her a baguette from a supermarket, she did not appreciate it. She could have stopped if not for  Olivia's intervention "It's just a baguette, how bad can it be?" And that's how you all three didn't get any sleep because of Amelie's monologue on baguette Olivia is a lot more laid back so she takes you sightseeing and if she trusts you enough, she takes you to her hometown. She even lets you meet up with Baptiste.
No-faction Ladies
Kiriko
Kiriko is dragging your ass across the city and showing you the finest spots If you're dating, it's one of your monthly dates to walk around the city and discover new paths or stands/shops. Even if she knows her city like the back of her hand, she's still pleased you're enjoying showing her shops you like She also practices her kunai throwing with you. It’s a lot of fun for her to see you mess up so many times. Although, you get closer to the target with each training session and she holds great pride in seeing your progress She trusts you enough after some time spent together, as well as some missions done together, to show you the group in which she belongs: The Yōkai You spend some fun times with them and seeing as they all have some masks, you decided to craft one for Kiriko. Of course, it’s a fox one. Kiriko loves it so much she doesn’t wear it, in fear she breaks it but she places it in her apartment.
Junker Queen
Odessa doesn't get out of Junkertown a lot, if not at all since she got her Junker Queen title. So if you're travelling fairly often, you give her pictures of your travels. "Oi! You should take me out here, sounds lots of fun!" "I tried, you say you were too busy ruling things around here." "Ey, doesn't mean I can't get to travel from time to time with me partner." Every time you come back from your travels, whether it is for business or for yourself, you always tell how you trip went down. Of course, with pictures to accompany your story. Odessa finds it easier to follow if she has pictures in front of her
Ashe
Liz loves to experiment with her outfits, if you have any good idea she’s going to bring it to life. If one of your ideas doesn’t please her, she’s going to give you interesting feedback. She is a firm believer in constructive criticism She often asks BOB to watch over you when she’s gone for a heist but sometimes, it does seem like you’re the babysitter You teach BOB about some customs he might not have been aware of. It’s a lot of fun watching him learn new things
ps: i still have a lot of asks from the 700 celebration event, I'll try to get to it as soon as i am a little bit more free
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