#just like with the launch screen crash

[scatmaan]

wish me luck boys im going back in(to diablo)

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part thirteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Bonding

Arsenal Women x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Bonding night with the Arsenal girls

You're dressed in your special Auntie Stina Arsenal jersey as she assures your Morsa that everything is going to be okay.

Momma and Morsa have a special awards night thing that they have to make an appearance at so Auntie Stina is babysitting you. Your usual babysitters in Zećira and Jessie are busy tonight too so Auntie Stina gets to take you to Arsenal bonding night.

You're very excited and it's all you've been thinking about all week.

Momma and Morsa say goodbye to you and you instantly run up to Stina's car so she can get you clipped in and you can get to Captain Kim's house faster.

"Look who it is!"

Katie's waiting for you both by the door and she swings you up easily onto her hip and tugs at your jersey teasingly.

"A true gunner in the making! You'll play for us when you're older, right?"

You nod. "Yes!"

"Even if your mams want you to play for Chelsea?"

You pull a face, sticking out your tongue. "Not-Wolfsburg sucks!"

Katie laughs, delighted, as she gives you a high five. "That sounds right." She lets you climb down and scarper inside, toeing off your shoes in the entrance hall before following the sounds of music and talking further inside the house.

"Hi, Captain Kim!" You say when you see her," What's happenin'?"

Captain Kim laughs, her hand coming to rest of your shoulder as Jen wrestles with Beth on the floor.

"They're just being silly," She tells you," And trying to knock all of my things on the floor."

As if to prove the point, Beth crashes into a little side table with an ornamental vase wobbles precariously as she launches herself straight back at Jen.

"You should tell them off," You say," That's what my Morsa does when Erin and Guro are being silly in a dangerous way. She's the Captain like you're the Captain so you can tell them off if you want."

Kim laughs slightly. "That's a good idea. Captains do get to tell people off. Do you want to help me?"

"I'm not a captain though."

"But you are the big boss. I think that means you've got some captain powers too."

"Really?"

She nods. "Really."

"Okay!"

Captain Kim leads you over to where Beth and Jen are still wrestling. She whistles, shrill and high pitched and exactly the one Morsa uses when she needs to get Erin and Guro's attention.

"Stop wrestling in my house!" She orders before lightly nudging you.

"Yeah!" You say," 'Cause you're going to break something and then Captain Kim is going to make you do laps!"

From behind you, Katie chuckles.

"Yeah, you two!" She teases," Listen to Kim and the big boss!"

"Yeah!" You agree, stamping your foot so they know you're serious.

"Sorry, y/n," Jen laughs," We'll stop."

"Good," You say," Or else you'll have to run laps tomorrow."

You shriek as you're lifted into someone's arms. You're flipped upside down as Leah's hands attack your sides.

"Look at you!" She laughs as you shriek and try to wiggle away. "Little captain in the making!"

"My mummies are captains!" You say when she finally puts you the right way up.

"You've got it in your blood!" Leah proclaims, tickling your sides again," Me and Kim'll make you into a proper captain though! Arsenal style, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

You think Arsenal bonding night is a lot of fun.

Katie helps you make a pizza where you put your pepperoni slices in a crude rendition of the Arsenal badge and she takes lots of pictures of you winning at Twister.

You end up sat between Auntie Stina and Beth for dinner as Auntie Lina selects a movie for you all to watch while you eat.

"Beth?" You ask.

"Yeah?"

"Can we call Daan? I miss her at Arsenal."

Beth laughs, already digging out her phone. "I think quite a few fans would agree with you."

The phone rings a few times before Daan's face fills the screen. Daan is a very happy person, you think, because she's always smiling when she sees you. You smile too.

"Hey, y/n!" She says," What're you doing on Beth's phone?"

"Callin' you!" You answer," Auntie Stina brought me to bonding because my mummies are busy!"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I beat Leah and Captain Kim at Twister! I got chocolate as a prize!"

Daan laughs. "Good! Keep them humble!"

You giggle too. "Is Lyon fun like Arsenal?" You ask.

"It's fun," Daan replies," But I'm still learning the language. I'm sure it'll be more fun when I can speak French properly."

You nod wisely. "That's like when I came from Germany. I only knew a little English so I had to learn so I could have fun."

"It's exactly like that," Daan says," Hey, who knows, maybe you'll have to learn French too when you're older."

You think about that for a moment. You know when you're older, you really want to play for Wolfsburg. Arsenal too and maybe Barcelona as well but you'd never really thought about Lyon. You already know German and English so having fun at Wolfsburg and Arsenal should be easy.

If you went to Barcelona then you would have to learn Spanish. If you went to Lyon then you would have to learn French.

Your Momma tells you that you're very good at languages. She says she's always impressed by how easily you pick it up. Sometimes, she calls you a little chameleon because you speak your English like you were born here rather than with an accent like she and Morsa do.

You don't think it'll be too difficult to learn French if you went to Lyon.

Daan stays on the call for a bit longer before promising to send you her Lyon jersey and you migrate from Beth and Auntie Stina to the floor with Leah and Katie.

You drag a blanket with you, tucking it around both of them like you do when you have sleepytime with Jessie and Niamh. The movie is still playing but you're a little tired so you lean heavily into Leah and kick you feet up into Katie's lap.

You yawn.

"You tired, kid?" Katie asks and you nod.

"Gonna finish the movie though."

Leah chuckles, the force of it rocking your whole body as she softly cards her fingers through your hair. "I'm sure you will."

You're out like a light before the second act begins.

[ukiiseikou]

you know i fade to grey without you.

kazuha kaedehara x gn! reader, figure skating au.

a/n: soooo y/n is kinda a flop in this one, and the pacing is kinda all over the place. this was my first ever piece i wrote (despite being published after the scara one) so please excuse everything wrong!! thank you! part of complementary figures, 2/? read wanderer's here.

you used to be good at figure skating. now? not so much. your body was taller and your limbs less under your control. a car crash sealed the deal, and your legs never really felt like your's anymore.

junior world champion used to be a title you had, but now? top ten at sectionals was often out of reach, much less any big international podiums. you settle with entering yourself into those small challenger cups, and if you're lucky, manage to snag a medal or two.

at least you never gave up on it.

your coach says its a good thing - your tenacity and grit, but even you can tell her hugs has become more fleeting and more like pats on the back over the years, dismayed at yet another two-footed or unlanded jump. you see how the skaters in the later groups looked at you - or more like, not looked at you. you were way under their league, an insignificant number on the scoreboard, a grey spot at the bottom.

you know figure skating. the feeling of ice against blade, the gliding, the wind in your face, the way the world around you blurs as you spin and launch yourself into the air. even the drowsy, orange tinted memories of watching mao asada's triple axel on repeat in the car at 5am, and the biting ice of the bath you have to lower yourself into at 1 in the morning, replaying your mistakes on the small screen you grasp between your hands. four years ago, you've said you wouldn't have it any other way. but those were bygone days, and now you were barely scraping by.

kazuha kaedehara, on the other hand, is figure skating's golden boy.

you remember how the commentators yelled over the broadcast as the last notes of his free skate sounded, the way your own teammates launched themselves out of the white plastic chairs crowded around the small TV and erupted into cheers and whoops. you swore you saw your coach wipe away a tear. the energy was electric, and even you felt your fingers tingle and your feet itch as you focus on his figure, his costume bright red against the white of the ice.

"oh my goodness, what even was that skating? spectacular! impeccable, just impeccable. why, i say we'll be seeing an olympic gold medal around his neck in three years. yes! kazuha kaedehara from inazuma, what a wonderful showing! a pure figure skater, the consistency, the artistry, the technical mastery, the interpretation. my friends, this is a one in a lifetime talent!"

praises like this echoed throughout the figure skating world for the next two years, and you heard it first-hand every single time. for some reason, despite being ranked number one around the entire world, kazuha kaedehara finds it in his heart to bless the smaller competitions you were at and take away the medal of some poor kid who only wanted to get some international recognition.

you've seen him so many times that he says hi to you in the hallways now (even though he probably doesn't even know your name). flashes that sweet smile that's captured the hearts of thousands across the globe in your direction as he tilts his head. you always settled for a nod and a smile as well, before brushing past him. this time, you faintly hear him call after you, shouting good luck, and you simply wave back in acknowledgement.

boys come later, first, you gotta pull yourself together.

you've been skating for your entire life now, but the chill of stage fright still gets to you. the feeling of your throat closing up as the speakers boom your name, you hop, gliding in a circle as you approach your starting position. you breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth.

the first few notes of your music start, and for a moment you panic as your foot roots itself to the ice. but your body moves on its own, your arms flying into the air as you push off your blade. the feeling melts away into pure adrenaline as you make your first round across the ice rink. this is it, your most difficult jump, the one you've never landed properly since the crash. you've done this before - four years ago, you can do it again.

you stare at the spot of ice you'll take off from, faintly, you think to yourself of how kazuha kaedehara probably does the triple axel in his sleep, but the thought is quickly swept away as your body twists forward. there's no time. your leg rises and the dark blue seats, dotted with spectators, blur into lines. you're in the air, wind whipping in your ears.

you make contact with the ice, but lurch forward. fuck. you desperately try to save it by bending your knees, but no luck. you pitch forward and your face nearly hits the ice as your arms and hands brace for impact. a wave of disappointment washes over you as you pick yourself up. you can't even hear the music anymore, relying purely on muscle memory as you skate through your program.

you can see and hear it all already: the wince in the commentators voice as he comments on your incorrect entry or off-centre axis; that one fan that's been following you forever probably just fell to his knees; the newspapers that only the people from your hometown reads - "y/n l/n cannot deliver anymore"; your coach who turns away with a hand over her eyes; your mother trying to contain the sigh that ultimately escapes from her lips.

a wave of disappointment washes over you, but you've got two minutes of program left, and at this point you're just happy you finished alive and with no broken bones, even with two falls and a downgraded spin. as you bow, you see him, bright red against the blue seats of the audience, clapping.

he's insane.

"y/n l/n, i just don't understand," your coach murmurs, after the quick squeeze she gives you as you step out of the rink, out of breath, "you hit it all in practice, it is just - the nerves, my dear? what is it? are your knees hurting again? we'll work on it, okay?"

it's always the same questions, the same disappointed look before she collects herself at the kiss and cry and pats you on the arm, handing you the jacket you've had for years now. the little girl behind you hands you a grey and white cat plushie that she picked up from the rink, and you smile at her, holding up the plushie to the camera as a pang of bitterness settles in your gut.

you and your coach exchange tight smiles before the camera. your coach's eyes turn to squint at the screen that displays your score. you settle instead for playing with the ears of the cat, waiting to be defined by a few set of numbers again. you finally hear your name announced, but you don't even look up to the display, you can only nod with finality as the speakers blare out your score for the whole venue to hear - not enough to qualify to the free skate. it feels like a guilty statement as it hangs over you like a dark cloud.

your coach pats you on the back absentmindedly, before standing up to fuss over your teammate, the one who will probably make it into the free skate.

you wave at the camera before it, too, turns away from you in urgency as the next skater takes to the ice. you tune out the polite applause as you stand from the seat, feet tired and head heavy.

it's always like this. you, washed out against the colours of the arena.

as you turn the corner in the hallways, you see him again.

"i just saw you - in the stands. how - how did you get down here so fast?"

"you were standing there for a really long time, got me worried a bit, actually," he smiles apologetically, "sorry, was that weird?"

"no - i mean, thanks for worrying," you do what you always do, angling your body to brush past him, but his words stop you.

"i liked it - your program."

you raise an eyebrow at him, and when you turn around you're startled by his bright red eyes.

"but i fell, like, twice," you break eye contact, averting your eyes.

you can see his arms move as he shrugs, "things happen. but i liked it. i really like the way you skated. did you choreograph it yourself? i think i saw that listed in your profile."

your eyes snap up to meet his, and he has the same smile that he shows everyone - sincere and charming.

"you read my bio?"

he lets out a gentle laugh, "sorry, i don't mean to be weird. i just - always liked your programs. i was wondering who choreographed them, then i saw it was you. it clicked! only someone who knew the music in and out could skate like you."

"i don't think anyone would want to skate like me," you give him a bitter smile, squeezing the cat between your arms, "but thanks."

he shook his head, "i was there at the junior championships, in the audience - when you won gold? i always wanted to skate like you."

you frown, "you're world number one."

"and i'm a terrible choreographer," he supplies helpfully.

"i don't think i should be your golden standard," you move to leave.

"wait! what i mean is - your skating, it’s... colourful. i can't put it into words, it's ethereal, fascinating, human, it changes people," words spill from his mouth and kazuha's hands suddenly grasp your's, eyes wide and shining, "can you show me? how you do it?"

"wait, wait," you blink, and he pulls out of your space, his eyes apologetic, "my skating does not change lives."

"it changed mine," he says quietly, and you laugh.

"sure, i changed the life of olympic favourite kazuha kaedehara! why not."

"no, really," he sounds out of breath, "didn't i say? i saw you. i actually wanted to leave the sport then, i wasn’t making much progress, but you made me want to skate. now that i’m here… i've been entering these competitions so that you could see me. i wanted to catch your attention."

your head feels like it's going to burst. he even looks slightly frustrated at the thought that you might have never noticed him.

your mouth open and closes like a fish, until you finally settle with: "everything you just said was true?"

"everything," he affirms.

you avert your gaze, "fine. this is me taking notice, alright? one lesson, that's all you get, kaedehara."

"hold your hand out more, you look like a flamingo, not a swan," you bark at kazuha, who laughs as he sits on the floor of the ice. you skate towards him, holding out a hand, "and i can't believe you fell on a double toe loop."

"things happen," he shrugs, grasping your hand as you pull him up.

"you asked me for an olympic level program, so put in some effort."

he laughs again, bending down to brush his nose against your cheek, but you push him away, huffing.

"do it again, this time properly."

"do i get a good job kiss afterwards?"

"i'll think about it," you grumble.

one lesson blossomed into something else, and now you've found yourself the partner of figure skating's golden boy, after he unceremoniously asked you one morning as the two of you walked together into the rink.

you finally quit, but not after several conversations from kazuha lamenting the loss of art from the world, but you've become a choreographer, and every new season he cuddles up to you, asking if you can choreograph a piece to his new favourite piece of music. you’ve also realised that kazuha kaedehara does not land triple axels in his sleep, if the sleepy mumblings of "don't fall!" and "ah, blast, i fell." was any indication.

people call his skating ethereal, colourful, life-changing, and all he does is smile at the camera and say "it's because of y/n, they inspire me."

you watch as he picks up speed from the far end of the rink. you're going to be busy this season, helping the younger ones with their programs. so, the next time you see him, he's at the olympics. his costume bright red against the white of the ice.

he points at you when he finishes, panting and out of breath. he laughs as he sees you clap, your dream blazing alongside his own. right now, even at the top, no other person matters, you're the one who brought colour into his life, after all.

guys... if shit sucks, hit the bricks!!! real winners quit! please ♡ and ⟳ if you enjoyed thank youuuu please support your authors!

[thebluemallet]

EARLY Predictions for Bridgerton Season 4

BENEDICT IS OFFICIALLY CONFIRMED TO BE THE LEAD FOR SEASON 4!

I've had this in my drafts for a couple of weeks. But now that Benophie is officially happening next season, I have some EARLY predictions for the next season. I'll have more predictions when we finally have a clip or a trailer, but for now I'm gonna cast a wide net for what I think will happen in season 4.

1- MASQUERADE!

They really name-dropped that masquerade ball like Tahani Al-Jamil name drops her celebrity friends. And they mentioned it in the promo with Luke T. The masquerade ball is happening! My guess is it'll happen somewhere in the first two episodes of season 4. This will be where Benedict meets his Cinderella/mysterious Lady In Silver/Sophie Beckett.

The code name for season 4 is supposed to be Vauxhall, where we saw Daphne and Simon launch their fake dating plot in season 1. That was a public ball, which means that anybody who could pay the fee could get into it. Perhaps we'll return there for the masquerade ball. Makes much more sense for Sophie to be able to crash that instead of a private ball at the Bridgerton house.

Let's just hope her carriage doesn't turn into a pumpkin before she can make her escape.

2- A Possible Time Jump

In Benedict's book, he meets Sophie at the masquerade, she runs away at midnight, and then he doesn't see her again for another two years. I think a time jump could happen again. Specifically for a few of my upcoming predictions.

Also, it would add to the drama.

Can you imagine the reaction from the fans with the screen fades to black and then some text fades in that reads TWO YEARS LATER?

3- Kate and Anthony Might Not Make An Appearance Next Season

Possibly an unpopular opinion, but I almost dont know why they bothered with having Kate and Anthony in season 3. It seemed like it boiled down to "We're here! We're hot! We're horny! And we're fucking off now! Bye!"

At least when Daphne showed up in Anthony's season she helped drive the plot forward and tried to help guide her brother on the bumpy road to matrimony. Anthony had one half-assed conversation with Colin about his engagement to Penelope. Kate did most of the heavy-lifting when it came to important talks with the family. She did most of the talking to Colin the night before his wedding to Penelope. (Not that it mattered because all of her work was undone the moment Charlotte showed up to the wedding.)

Kate also gets credit for speaking with Eloise to try and smooth things over between her and Colin. And then they left their family for a third time to go all the way to India, a journey that's going to take them six months one way.

But with a time jump, that would give enough time for Anthony and Kate to go to India, have their baby, spend some time there, and then make the long journey back to be present after the time jump with a toddler.

(With how pregnant Kate was looking at the wedding, I would not be surprised if she gave birth at sea. She and Anthony did not think that plan through at all. And why the hell did they leave without attending Francesca's wedding??? And when the Queen was certain that a Bridgerton was behind Lady Whistledown???)

Anthony and Kate being absent would also be a convenient way to keep the Bridgerton House set around for a little while longer.

Anyway, sending Kate and Anthony off to India felt like a way to let Jonny and Simone do other projects for a season instead. Jonny himself is probably gonna be busy with all of the press for the upcoming Wicked movie. So if the announcement comes that they won't be around, I wouldn't be surprised.

4- Last Season for Queen Charlotte Queen Charlotte Lives Forever!

Bridgerton is not known for being 100% historically accurate. And let's face it, even if it were, people would still be complaining about the historical inconsistencies. But one thing Bridgerton is creeping up on is the year 1818. And it's in November of that year that the real-life Queen Charlotte passed away.

Season 4 will, I assume, start in 1816. If they do a one-year time jump, we'll get the rest of the season in 1817 when the main events of Benedict's book take place. If they do a two-year time jump, like they did in the books, then we'll be in 1818 and we'll be in the year we say goodbye to Queen Charlotte.

BUT, the showrunners have pretty much said that they've decided the show exists in an "alternate universe" and they're just going to keep Queen Charlotte around for a while.

The Queen lives. Long live the Queen.

5- Eloise Meets Sir Phillip Crane (?)

While the masquerade references were heavy-handed, the references to Philoise were more subtle. In episode 3x02, Eloise wears a dress that is patterned with the same flower that was gifted to her by Sir Phillip in the books. And in 3x05, when trying to make herself feel better about her betrothal, Cressida tells Eloise that the two of them can "flirt with widowers." The showrunners are slowly setting up the Eloise/Phillip dynamic--they have been since season 1. I think they'll set more things into motion in season 4 and set them up for season 5.

Eloise already expressed to Kate how she felt as if everyone was pairing off and leaving her behind. Benedict's marriage will end up being the tipping point for Eloise.

Phillip would have lived the life of a botanist/academic if it weren't for his brother's tragic passing. Perhaps his academic connections could play a part in Eloise's desire to meet new people and change the world?

If they meet in season 4, it could be the catalyst for them to begin to exchange letters like they did in the books. Which will ultimately set them up for their story in season 5.

Of course, this also means that Marina is going to have to die offscreen at some point 😐

6- Cressida Redemption (?)

One of my major gripes with season 3 was that they gave so much time to the threesome subplot that two other subplots seemed to have no real conclusion or were dropped completely. One of the subplots that didn't get wrapped up as nicely as it could have was Cressida's. We didn't see her reaction to Penelope unmasking herself as Lady Whistledown. She just kind of...left.

There is a long-standing fan theory that Cressida will have a part to play in the Benedict/Sophie story based on a piece of script that named Cressida's mother "Araminta". If this is true, then I think we'll see Cressida in some way next season. And maybe she'll get a happier ending. I never thought at the beginning of the show that I'd want Cressida to end up happy somewhere, but boy season 3 did a great job of making me actually sympathetic to her character.

7- Another Offscreen Wedding

One thing that I know frustrated Kathony fans last season was not seeing an onscreen wedding for Kate and Anthony. I mean, we saw a wedding, and Kate and Anthony were there, but he almost got married to the wrong person. The closest we got was Anthony disassociating so hard that he astral projected himself into an alternate reality.

The only onscreen weddings to canonical spouses we've seen have been the Daphne/Simon, Colin/Penelope, and Francesca/John weddings. But if anybody was hoping to see an onscreen wedding with Benedict in season 4, think again.

I believe that the drama of Benedict and Sophie's story will keep up through all eight episodes of their season. And, like Kate and Anthony's season, we'll flash forward in time at the end of the episode to Benedict and Sophie several months into their marriage. But we won't get to see the actual wedding.

8- Crossdressing Sophie (?)

Admittedly, this is less of a prediction and more wishful thinking on my part. This is the route I would go down if I was writing for the show, anyway.

Show!Benedict now being canonically pansexual has opened up the possibility for him to have an LGBTQ+ partner. But I have a slightly different idea. One plot point of Benedict's book is that Sophie, after running away from her stepmother's house, cuts off all of her hair to sell when she's desperate for money.

I think Show!Sophie could still get her hair cut off like in the book, and then go around disguised as a man for safety/freedom of movement/job opportunities. Then Benedict gets confused when he discovers Sophie in "boy mode" because he hasn't felt this level of attraction to someone since his Lady In Silver.

Maybe we'll get a Victor/Victoria scenario out of it (woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman).

Like I said, this is less of a prediction and more of the route I would go down if I was writing for the show. It probably won't happen this way. But maybe I'll give fanfic writers some plot bunnies.

[yona049]

𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚡 𝚐𝚗! 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1? (maybe)

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Warning :

> lil blood

>cosmophobia

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His pace was strong and exact as he walked through the ships shining white hallway. Hair cut to a precise straight line with pointed ears, a shining example of his Valcan linage.

His uniform was nothing short of excellent, no wrinkle or crease would dare disturb it's perfection. The tablet in his hand had many names of crew members across the screen.

Behind him, hundreds of cadets, Ensign's and officers ran through the hallway. Some carrying baggage or equipment for the long journey that lay ahead.

The blue, red, and yellow uniforms looked like smudged lines to Spock. No one daring to crash into him or hinder his way, as his intense focus on the tablet demanded his presence to be known.

Behind him came a red uniform, short skirted Lieutenant Commander Uhura runs closer. Her pace quickened to a jog to catch up to him. She dodged one of the Cadets carrying heavy boxes until she finally caught up to Spock.

"Spock!" she called to him but his attention never faltered from the tablet screen.

One name of the many pops up and he selects it. The profile of Ensign Y/n L/n appeared.

"What is it, Uhura?"

"I just needed to enquire on the specific time of launch."

Spock scrolls down to the information on the profile.

"There's no question, we leave O' eight hundred hours, current planet time. We've given everyone sufficient time to prepare for a life long expedition of exploration."

Uhura growls and dodges another Cadet carrying some equipment and engineering tools.

"Yes I understand! But some Cadets have questioned the captains choice to bring inexperienced Ensign's on board for this mission."

Spock finally stops once they've reached the back of the hallway with a large door at the end. His hands are placed behind his back delicately and without hesitation he answers.

"Uhura, I can see the unease that this may have caused. However our Captain has never put us in harms way before and he certainly won't now. I trust Kirk's decisions whole heartedly."

Uhura sighs and nods slowly. Her arms fold into a somewhat comforting hug.

"I guess I should too. It's just a really big decision for everyone to make. There's a chance we may never come home."

She slowly glances through the large window beside them at the spinning blue and green planet below.

Spock looks at earth and then back at her.

"The U.S.S Enterprise is our home now. And like earth. We must protect it."

She laughs a little through her nose at Spock.

"Yeah, you're right."

With a small hand, she pats on his shoulder and then makes her way back down the hallway.

"Oh! And Good luck with the new Ensign!" she calls back to him before disappearing into the corridor.

Finally, the hallway seemed a little quieter. Spock looks back down at his tablet and scrolls through the profile. The first thing he noticed is no picture of the Ensign. Odd.

The second thing he notices is the lack of specified species. The Enterprise was a decorated vessel with many mixed species staff. A proud ship of the The United Federation of Planets.

The doors at the end of the hallway finally slide open.

"Ensign L/n! You're-"

He looks up at the new Ensign but stops when he sees a short bodied, light blue skinned species. Not a harsh blue, but a pale skin tone similar to the planet Andoria.

The blue uniform perfectly hugging their figure and snow-white hair covering their ears.

"...-Late."

He finishes looking at their profile then back at them.

"Sir, I'm sorry. They had some trouble confirming my authentication due to my incomplete file."

They look down shyly. Holding a suitcase and a box of glass tubes and bottles.

"Then let's make an effort to complete it."

Spock walks a circle around them them with a raised eyebrow as he studied their species.

"Tell me, Ensign, what's your species? Your skin and hair would suggest Andorian. However, I see no antennae."

Y/n slowly scratches the bottom of their ear and clears their throat.

"I am Andorian, sir. I lost my antennas in a chemical accident."

Again, Spock looks down at his tablet. His face showing no visible confusion, but he was, in fact, a little confused. Yet also mesmerized.

"It says here you're a Medical Ensign."

They quickly nod watching Spock.

"Yes! Chemistry is my main practice. I can't have the Medical Officer mixing the wrong, atorvastatin with fluticasone and causing someone to come down with some disease!"

They finish their explication but quickly step back after.

"Apologies! I didn't mean to sound so accusatory."

Spock nods before turning on his heel and starting his walk.

"Not at all, I am Vulcan. We try to keep our emotions-"

"-Controlled." Y/n says, catching up to him.

"Yes, I'm aware." they confess, looking down.

Spock squints for a second before looking back at the tablet for some information.

"Now, your room is on deck 37. This deck is reserved for medical and research personnel. Med Bay is also on deck 37."

He explains as they walk to the turbolift, taking them both up to Deck 37. The lift is filled with a few seconds of awkward silence. Spock takes this time to study his blue skinned Ensign.

Their existence is shrouded in mystery. The story of their antennas being chemically detached is questionable, Andorian's antenna grow back after time. Their short stature compared to many of the tall built andorians. An incomplete file made Spock's curiosity spark.

Finally arriving at their room. Spock hands them a key card. He turns his back to them without a goodbye.

"Spock!" Y/n calls.

Spock turns back to them. A darkened blue color covered their cheeks like blush would a human's face.

"Yes, Ensign?"

Y/n takes a breath of confidence and looks at Spock.

"Thank you for accompanying me. You have other duties to see to. But I appreciate your time."

Spock only bows his head.

"It's my duty, Ensign. Now hurry to your medical checkups. We launch in 5 hours."

Y/n gives a happy nod, then entering their room with a little excited skip.

Spock couldn't tell why, but his heart gave a pleased thump when he saw the excitement from Y/n. A young new Ensign is unaware of the vastness of space that lays ahead.

The crew started settling into their bunks and rooms with quick paced ease. A fast five hour jump to the launch and Spock was confident in his preparation.

He was sat at his launch pad watching all systems make necessary calculations. As Head Commanding Science Officer and First Officer. He had to be sure the Enterprise was ready for Captain Kirk's arrival.

A sudden hand placed on Spock's shoulder pulls him from his thought process. Jim Kirk stood behind him. His close friend and captain. Even though he was human, Kirk knew what to say to let Spock know everything was ok.

"Well, Spock! How's she lookin?"

Kirk questions.

Spock straightens himself out and with a proud, non emotional face, then says.

"She is, in human terms, Spick and span!"

Kirk smiles giving Spock a good smack on the shoulder.

"Good! Because I'm about ready to head on a life long adventure. To explore strange new worlds!"

Kirk monologs while he strides over to the Captains chair. His palm slides over the arm rest and guides him to his seat.

"Yes, Captain. We're about ready for launch!"

Kirk smirks and turns to a button on his seat. Once he presses it the button starts broadcasting his voice though the entire ship.

"This is your Captain speaking."

Y/n was in a room with a scanner in their hand when they quickly look up at the speaker.

"We are preparing for Launch now. So to start off our journey. Here's a little quote from the very first Starship Captain. Captain Johnathan Archer."

Y/n smiled hearing the name of a big Historical hero. looking back at the Cadet they were doing a Medical check on. Y/n delicately pushes the Cadets head to the side and presses the scanner against their neck.

"He started the voyage by saying and I quote: 'We're going to stumble, make mistakes - I'm sure more than a few, before we find our footing. But we're going to learn From those mistakes. That's what being explorers is all about.'"

Captain Kirk smiles to himself hearing a few Crew members cheer down the hallway.

"This Voyage will be long. But it's purpose is to bring species together united. To Explore and to forge alliances. With that being said! Everyone hold tight!"

Cadets suddenly run off and hold steady to a rail or to anything nailed down. A brand new ship, Y/n stumbles past everyone while packing up the equipment. They look down at the list of Cadets to check but sees one name still open.

Spock had yet to be checked. With seconds before lift off, Y/n decides that the Bridge Control room isn't too far, and they might be able to make it there on time for launch.

With a little stumble, they make their way past the cadets and run for the lift to the Bridge.

Captain Kirk on the bridge looked at his pilot and smirked.

"Hit it!"

The ship yanks a little at the sudden force blasting them into hyperspace at warpspeed.

Y/n still in the turbo lift gets yanked forward suddenly and their hand slips from the rail with a heavy thud.

Spock holds carefully and waits till they get to an even pace. He watches everyone applaud as the ship steadied and they comfortably sat at hyperspeed.

The Captain pats the pilots on the back and Uhura gives Spock a smiling nod.

The lively energy circled though the bridge, even when Y/n fell through the door holding their head people surrounded them with cheers.

They smiled, clapping along and laughing a little before silence once again fell and everyone returned to their posts.

Uhura walks up to Y/n and shakes their hand. Brief conversation that Spock couldn't hear but he could tell Y/n was anxious.

Their hands clutching onto the medical case and their shoulders tightened into a straight, tense, posture.

"Y/n!" he called.

Y/n runs over to him with a thankful smile.

"Ensign, may I enquire as to your purpose on the bridge?"

Y/n sets their equipment down and stands straight at ease.

"Sir, I was on my way to take your vitals and complete medical check up's. But I was interrupted by launch! And I took the lift-"

During Y/n's anxious ramble, Spock studied her movements and noticed a light trickle of dark blue blood coming from beneath the white hair.

"Ensign."

"Yes sir! I know it was foolish! But I wanted to finish soon to get to other duties-"

"Y/n!" Spock's sudden voice brings Y/n's attention back to look up at him.

The chatter of crewmen in the background started fading out as Y/n's heartbeat took its place.

Spock delicately moves his fingertips to the side of their head and wipes the blood away bringing Y/n's attention to it.

"I.. Fell in the lift." they confess with their hand looking for the point of injury.

Spock looks down at the medical box and lifts it back off the ground.

"Ensign. I will report to Med bay for my medical check up in two hours. For the moment, see to your own medical care. Please."

A soft plea from Spock brought Y/n's heart back to a calm beating. They inhale and exhale slowly, focusing back on the problem at hand.

"Yes sir! I will be ready once you arrive!" Y/n says with a determined smile.

They take the bag with new found bravery but once again shyly smile at Spock before walking to the lift.

Uhura watches Y/n walk off and the doors slide shut as Uhura arrives at Spock's side.

"You saw it too?" Uhura questions still watching the lift doors.

"Yes. No Antenna scaring or any signs of growth. Andorian's antenna usually grow back in a matter of weeks."

Spock turns to Uhura and they start their deduction.

Spock continues :

"I considered the fact that it was a Chemical accident into my theory. However even a chemical wound wouldn't stop antennae from growth."

Uhura taps her finger on her folded arms while nodding in agreement.

"Y/n's accent has no clear signs of being raised in an andorian environment. No matter how faint the accent is. As the Communications officer I can hear it."

Spock takes a tablet off his desk and opens Y/n's profile once more.

"Y/n is not Andorian."

°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○

I had fun writing but I'm not sure If it'll become an ongoing series. 👀🖖If you enjoyed this and want a part two please let me know in the comments!

[yourimagines]

Falling

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: fluff

- Summary: you are falling for Lando Norris

Y/N POV

Lando and I were hanging out today. Because our mutual friend Max ditched us last minute. “It’s not fair, you’re a race driver.” I said while crashing again the f1 game. Lando laughs as he stands next to me. “You so bad at this.” I shook my head, pouting at the screen. “I don’t wanna play anymore.” I looked at Lando who was smiling like a idiot. “I’m just better, just say it.” I gently pushed him. “Your being mean now, of course you are, I don’t even finish one lap.” I threw my hands up in the air, as Lando laughs his ass off. “You need to practice more.” “I don’t have this fancy setup, I only have a steering wheel + pedals.” “Then you have to practice more here at my place.” He gave me a smile, I smiled back. “Okay, good plan.” I turned back to the screen and started a new round.

Lando POV

“You need to brake.” I said as I saw her crash again. “I stop now for real.” She climbed out of the seat. “You can if you want.” “No… do you wanna play party animals?” Her favourite game at the moment. Her eyes lit up. “Yeah of course.” We both sat down by my desk. Two computers where on. “We need to win tho.” “I’m good at this, don’t you worry.”

We won and we lose a lot. She was laughing at me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” She pushed me off an airplane. “We’ve could won this, but you pushed me off.” She laughs. “It’s was fun tho.”

Y/N POV

We both walked into the kitchen, trying to find some food. “Noodles?” He asked. “Yeah sure.” He warmed them up. “If you want you can stay here tonight. I have enough room for that.” “If your okay with that, then yes.” “Of course, you can stay here every night if you want.” I tried to hide my blush from him but I failed. “Are you blushing?” He said while grinning at me. “Shut up.” I gently pushed his arm. “You are!” He burst out laughing. I hide my face. “Lando, your the worst friend ever.” I laughed with him. “Yeah right, that blush on your face says something different.” I gasped and hit his arm playfully. “Aw.” He fake rubs his arm, pouting his lips. I laugh. He launched forward and tries to tickle me. I tried to run away but I failed, as a result he brought us down on the sofa. His hands trying to grab mine, locking them above my head. “Say sorry.” “No.” He held my hands with one hand, the other one starts to tickle me, causing me to wiggle and laugh. “Say your sorry and I’ll stop.” “No..!” He starts to laugh with me. “Lando.. please stop..” “say your sorry.” “Okay… I’m sorry!” My hips move around trying to get away from his hand. He stops releasing my hands. “I won.” He said with a smile on his face. I looked at him, his face looked beautiful, neon lights shined on the side off his face, looking like a god. “Your okay?” He looked a bit worried. “Yes, sorry zoomed out.” He nods and gets off me. “Our food.” I said while Lando sprinted to the kitchen.

“So wanna watch a movie or….” “No a movie is fine.” Lando picked the remote. “ I’ll pick something, you can change your clothes if you want, you can take whatever you want out of my closet.” “Thanks.” I jumped up and walked to his bedroom. I picked a hoodie and changed myself. I only wore underwear and his hoodie. Lando always wears a size bigger than he self is, so his hoodie is also bigger on mem covering my upper legs and my ass completely. I walked back and sat down next to him. He started the movie.

After the first half of the movie, Lando grabbed a blanket and threw it on us, covering our legs. I sat dangerously next to him, knees touching. I looked at him, he looked so peaceful. Then he looks at me, giving me a small smile. “Why are you looking?” “I’m sorry.” He chuckles. “I asked why, you muppet.” I shyly looked away. I felt him looking at me. “Hey, are you okay.” I looked back at him. “No..” “no?” I shook my head, butterflies flying around in my stomach, head feeling dizzy and heart beating fast. “What’s wrong then?” I couldn’t think straight anymore and just started to cry. He wrapped his hands around my shoulders pulling me in. “Hey.. what’s wrong, why you crying?” I mumbled against his chest. “Love, it’s okay……” I only registered the word he just called me, love. I looked at him in his eyes, so beautiful. “Did I do something.” “Yes.” He looked confused. “What did I do?” Panic was seen in his eyes. “I’m falling for you, that why.” He looked shocked. “Your falling for me?” I nodded. “Thank max he’s not here” he grabbed my face, carefully leaning closer. “Love, I’m already falling for you.” He whispered to me. I smiled. “Really?” I whispered back. “Yes, and it took you way to many time, to fall for me too.” I giggle as he rubs away my tears. “Can I kiss you?” He looked between my eyes and my lips. “Yes you can.” I whispered back at him. He closed our distance and kissed me softly, Holding me close.

[adrealucia]

New Beginnings

tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk, definitely slow burn chapter summary: new ideas, a heavy storm, shadow puppets, and a slumber party. a little bit angsty but I balanced it out I promise.

Chapter three

After you and the Diaz Brothers finish up all of your Tamales and wrapped up the conversation, you return to your modest house, a cozy space with a view of the ocean. Settling down at your makeshift desk—a sturdy wooden table with a stack of papers and a laptop—you begin to structure the business plans for Diaz’s Garage. When you woke up this morning you couldn’t have thought that tonight you would be sitting at your desk returning to your role as a business manager especially not for Sean Diaz the local mechanic. 

The sound of waves crashing against the shore outside provides a soothing background as you spread out notes. Ideas for expanding the garage's services and enhancing its appeal to the community fill your mind. You envision new service packages, partnerships with local businesses, and sustainable practices that could set Diaz’s Garage apart. Sean has been talking about expanding the Garage, so that would be the first idea you will be working on. 

“So, regular maintenance packages…” you mutter aloud, jotting down notes and adjusting numbers on your laptop screen. The possibilities seem endless, fueled by Sean's vision and your own growing understanding of the local market. You work for hours and hours on these plans. Honestly, you totally forgot that you are a master in this field and the Diaz Garage, as well as Sean and Daniel, are so different from the workplace you had back home. It all feels so exciting and new and it makes you want to pull an all-nighter, but that wouldn’t be very smart so after a few hours and many good ideas and plans you decide to wrap things up and go to bed. Excitement bubbled within you as you drove through the familiar streets of Puerto Lobos once again, heading towards Diaz’s Garage. Today was the day you planned to present Sean with your refined business ideas, eager to discuss the future of the garage over breakfast. You sent him a text last night, asking if it would be okay to come over in the morning, and the gentleman that he is Sean answered that he would be preparing a nice breakfast and be waiting for you. The morning sun painted the town a golden hue, and the salty breeze from the ocean filled your senses with a sense of anticipation.

Pulling up to the garage, you found Sean already waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall with a charming smile on his face. His hair, tousled by the ocean breeze, only added to his relaxed demeanor.

"Hey there," Sean greeted you with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he approached your car. "You look like you've got big plans brewing today."

You stepped out of the car, returning his smile. "Big plans indeed. Can't wait to hear what you think."

Sean chuckled softly. "I’m all ears. But first, breakfast."

He gestured towards a small table set up with breakfast under a nearby awning. The spread included fresh fruit, pastries, and a pot of steaming coffee. The aroma of the coffee mixed with the salty air, created a perfect backdrop for serious business talk and playful banter.

As you sat down, Sean poured you a cup of coffee and sat across from you. "So, what’s the big idea?"

You took a sip of the coffee, savoring the moment before launching into your plans. "I’ve been thinking about expanding the garage’s services—regular maintenance packages and eco-friendly options. I’ve also found some potential partnerships with local businesses that could really boost our visibility." Daniel, who had just joined you and already started snacking on some of the fruits, perks up at the mention of new ideas. “Do you think we could start doing custom modifications? Like those cars you see in magazines?”

Sean nods, smiling at his younger brother’s enthusiasm. “Absolutely, Daniel. And I think with your creativity, we could really make a name for ourselves.”You glance at Sean, impressed by his vision and determination. “It sounds ambitious, but I think it could work. Especially with the right partnerships and marketing.”

Sean meets your gaze, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “That’s what I like about having you around. You see the potential in things.” You feel a warmth spread through you at his words, grateful for the opportunity to contribute. “I believe in what you’re doing here, Sean. And I’m excited to see where we can take Diaz’s Garage.”

Sean nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you with genuine interest. "Sounds like you’ve been busy. I like where this is going. Sustainability is definitely a selling point around here. And custom mods? That could attract a whole new clientele."

Encouraged by his response, you leaned forward, the playful glint in your eye matching his. "I knew you'd see the potential. With your expertise and my ideas, Diaz’s Garage could become the talk of Puerto Lobos."

Sean chuckled a hint of flirtation in his voice. "Well, we already are the talk of the town, but I’m all for making a bigger splash."

The morning passed in a blur of productive discussion and shared laughter, each idea sparking new possibilities and strengthening the connection between you and Sean. His ability to blend professionalism with playful banter kept the atmosphere lively and engaging. “So, what’s next on our path to world domination?” Sean teased, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

You laughed, enjoying the easy camaraderie. "First, Puerto Lobos. Then, who knows? The world might not be ready for us yet."

Sean leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Well, let’s start with Puerto Lobos then. We’ll take it one custom modification at a time."

As you and Sean continue to brainstorm and outline plans for the future of the garage, the sky outside begins to darken, signaling the approaching storm. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” Daniel says, worry creeping into his voice.

Sean glances out the window and nods. “A big one, by the looks of it. Maybe we should start securing the place.” Well you think to yourself, this took a quick turn. Nonetheless, you quickly get up from your seat and immediately begin to help.

You and Sean quickly begin preparing the garage for the impending storm. You help move the more valuable tools and parts to higher shelves, while Sean checks the drainage around the building. Daniel, sensing the urgency, pitches in without hesitation. For the whole time that you have been living here in Puerto Lobos, the weather has always been nice, of course, there were some rainy days but Daniel and Sean sure seem to be preparing for the end of the world. 

As the wind picks up and the first drops of rain begin to fall, you realize the storm is going to be worse than you all anticipated. The town’s streets quickly become rivers of muddy water, and the power flickers before finally going out. The Garage is pitch Black and you now really have to squint your eyes in order for you to see something. You wish you could at least grab some candles, but there is just not enough time, the rain is already pouring so heavily you are scared it might flood the whole place.

“We need to get the sandbags,” Sean says, his voice steady but urgent. “We keep them in the back for situations like this.”

Together, you and Daniel follow Sean to the back of the garage, where you haul out heavy sandbags and position them around the garage’s entrance to keep the water out. The rain pounds down harder, and the wind howls through the trees, but the three of you work in tandem, your efforts synchronized.

“Grab that side,” Sean instructs, pointing to a particularly heavy bag. You and Daniel lift it together, your muscles straining but your determination unwavering. The storm’s fury outside seems to strengthen your resolve.

As you work, you notice Daniel’s hands shaking slightly, his eyes darting nervously at the storm outside. You exchange a concerned glance with Sean, who gives you a reassuring nod. 

Inside the garage, the three of you take shelter as the storm rages outside. The power outage leaves you in near darkness, save for the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the room. You find a few candles and light them, their warm glow creating a small island of light in the otherwise dark and stormy night.

Daniel huddles close to you and Sean, his fear evident. “I really hate storms,” he admits, his voice small. Poor Daniel you think to yourself. When you were a little kid you also always were scared of these kinds of storms, especially thunder used to give you the heebie-jeebies. 

Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close. “Hey, we’re safe here. The garage is sturdy, and we’ve done everything we can to keep the water out.”

You reach out, placing a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Think of it as an adventure, it’s like we’re on a mission to save the garage from the storm! And we’re winning. We’re here together, and we’ll get through this.”

Daniel nods, trying to be brave. “Yeah, like a mission. We’ve got this.”

As the storm rages on, you all sit close, the howling wind and pounding rain a constant backdrop. To lighten the mood, you start sharing stories.

Trying to cheer Daniel up, you say, “I remember one time during a blackout, my friends and I made shadow puppets on the wall. It was silly, but it made us forget the storm outside.”

Daniel manages a small smile. “Maybe we should try that.”

Sean grins. “Why not? It might be fun.” He turns to you, a playful glint in his eye. “Got any good shadow puppet skills to show off?”

You laugh, glad for the distraction. “I might have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

As you and Sean make various shadow puppets on the wall, Daniel’s laughter gradually replaces his fear. The tension eases, and the storm outside becomes a distant worry. The living room feels less like a refuge from the storm and more like a sanctuary of shared strength. Hours pass in a blur of stories, games, and moments of quiet contemplation interrupted only by the storm’s relentless assault outside.

Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you all. Sean looks out the window, the storm still raging with no sign of letting up.

“I can’t let you drive back home in this storm,” he says, his voice carrying genuine concern. “It’s too dangerous out there right now.” You glance outside at the torrential rain and nod in agreement. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild out there. I don’t think I’d make it far.”

Sean nods thoughtfully, then stands up with determination. “I’ll set up the couch for you. It’s not much, but at least you’ll be dry and safe here.”

Grateful for his concern, you offer a faint smile. “Thanks, Sean. I appreciate it.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Of course. We’re all in this together.”

With careful steps to avoid the scattered tools and equipment, Sean clears a path to the couch in the living room. He pulls out a blanket and fluffs the pillows, creating a makeshift but comfortable spot for you to spend the night.

“There,” Sean says, gesturing toward the couch. “It’s not the four seasons, but it should do the job. Get some rest. We’ll figure things out in the morning.” As you settle onto the couch, Daniel stands nearby, looking a bit hesitant. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern.

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, Daniel. Thanks for asking.”

Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair affectionately. “Alright, bud. Time for bed. We’ve all had a long day.” Daniel reluctantly heads to his room, and Sean lingers for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “If you need anything, my room’s just down the hall.”

“Goodnight, Sean. And thanks again.”

Sean gives you a warm smile before heading to his own room, leaving you in the quiet and comfort of the living room. As you drift off to sleep, the storm’s roar outside gradually fades into a distant rumble, replaced by a sense of safety and gratitude for the unexpected refuge found in the midst of the tempest. Hours later, you’re jolted awake by a loud crash of thunder. Disoriented and groggy, you struggle to get your bearings. The room is dim, lit only by the flickering light of a candle. The storm outside is relentless, the wind howling like a wild beast, and the rain pounding against the windows in a chaotic symphony.

Suddenly, you hear the unmistakable sound of Daniel’s voice, filled with fear. “Sean! Sean!” His voice is a high-pitched wail, cutting through the storm’s roar. You sit up, your heart racing, and see Daniel standing in the hallway, his small frame shaking visibly with fear.

Sean, ever vigilant, is instantly alert. He emerges from his room in a rush, his eyes wide with concern. “Daniel, it’s okay. It’s just a storm,” he says, wrapping his arms around Daniel in a protective hug. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

You rise from the couch, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the frightened boy. Moving to stand beside them, you gently place a hand on Daniel’s back. “Hey, Daniel,” you say softly, your voice calm and soothing. “We’re all here, and we’re all safe.”

The three of you move back to the living room, where the flickering candlelight casts long, comforting shadows on the walls. The storm’s rage seems slightly muted within the warm, dim glow. Sean guides Daniel to the couch, his arm still wrapped around his brother’s shoulders. You sit beside them, your presence a steadying force.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel whispers, his voice trembling as he looks up at you both. “I just… I got so scared.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Sean murmurs, pulling him close and ruffling his hair gently. “Storms can be really scary. But we’re together, and that’s what matters.”

You nod in agreement, giving Daniel a reassuring smile. “Yeah, and we’re not going anywhere. We’ll stay right here until it’s over.”

Daniel looks up at you both, his fear slowly subsiding. “Can I stay with you guys?” he asks, his voice small but hopeful.

“Of course,” Sean says immediately, his voice firm and comforting. “We’ll all stay right here.”

The three of you huddle together on the couch, the storm’s fury raging outside but feeling less threatening with each passing minute. You start sharing stories again, trying to lighten the mood and distract Daniel from the storm. Sean tells a funny story about their old neighbor in Seattle who used to garden in his pajamas, making Daniel giggle despite himself.

You join in, sharing a silly memory from your own childhood, and soon the living room is filled with soft laughter. The candlelight dances across your faces, casting a warm glow that contrasts sharply with the storm’s cold, harsh presence outside. The howling wind and the thunder’s roar become background noise as you all focus on the stories and each other’s company.

As the night wears on, Daniel’s eyelids grow heavy, his fear slowly giving way to exhaustion. Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close, and you find yourself leaning against the armrest, feeling a sense of peace despite the storm outside.

“Remember that time we camped in the backyard, and the tent collapsed?” Sean asks, his voice soft and filled with nostalgia.

Daniel nods sleepily, a small smile on his face. “Yeah… you blamed it on a bear,” he mumbles, snuggling closer to Sean.

Sean chuckles. “It was probably just the wind. But you were so brave.”

You reach out and gently squeeze Daniel’s hand. “You’re brave now, too. Storms can be scary, but you’re handling it really well.”

Daniel looks up at you with sleepy eyes, his fear almost gone. “Thanks,” he whispers. “I feel better with you guys here.”

As the storm continues its relentless assault outside, exhaustion eventually overtakes you all. Sean, Daniel and you nestle together on the couch, finding warmth and safety in your closeness. The candle burns low, its light casting a gentle glow on your faces.

The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of rain against the windows, the wind’s howl gradually fading into the background. The warmth of the Diaz brothers by your side and the knowledge that you’re all in this together brings a deep sense of comfort and peace.

authors note: hihi i hope you guys liked this chapter, I mean whats a better way to get to know somebody than being locked up because of a huge storm right? anyway even though Daniel is already sixteen in this fic he will always be a little kid deep inside of my heart. I cant wait to continue this fic and I am excited to hear about your opinions.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 14 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Summary - you and Spencer have it out and you make a decision about your future together. Spencer seeks out another victim while you spend the day with Jesse.

A/N - I promise Spencer is going to redeem himself eventually but he’s going to be an asshole a little while longer. Bear with him, he’s been through a lot of trauma.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - drunk Spencer, swearing, guns, arguing, use of “bitch” towards reader, tears, murder, making out.

WC - 5.1k

Chapter 14 - Bad Guy

Upon entering the house you quickly discovered the origin of all three crashes you’d heard from the front lawn. 

The first one was the living room lamp which had been knocked on the floor, thankfully it appeared to still be intact. The second was Spencer’s keys which he’d seemingly launched at the fireplace, gratefully missing the large flat screen and now lay in a pile on the floor. 

The third sound had come from one of the dining room chairs being shoved aside, as though it had been in Spencer’s way on his journey to the stairs. 

One of his boots was at the bottom of the staircase and the other half way up which could only mean he was in possession of the Colt. Starting up the stairs and you found his wallet a little further up and on the top step you found one of the disposable phones. On the landing was a torn condom wrapper. 

You rolled your eyes, your suspicions about Spencer’s evening activities confirmed but you were pleased he’d at least had the decency to use protection with the other woman. You bent down and picked the shiny purple foil up between your fingers. 

You could hear him grunting and pacing heavily inside the master bedroom and you pushed forward, knowing it was better to get this over with than draw it out. 

As expected he was holding the Colt in one hand, dangling from his fingers as he paced back and forth. The fingers of his other hand were pressing firmly against his temple. 

“Looks like you had a fun night, sweetie.” You spat the last word, proffering the wrapper at him. 

“At least you didn’t have to witness a make out session on your front doorstep.” He rolled his eyes. 

“But I didn’t fuck him.” You growled. 

“You think that makes you better than me?” He slurred, wobbling on his feet and falling against the wall. 

“I think we’re both pretty abhorrent people to be perfectly honest, Spencer. But I didn’t go quite as far as you.” You dropped the foil on the floor, watching it spiral to the carpet. 

“You say that like you wouldn’t have given the chance. If I hadn’t come home when I did, are you saying you wouldn’t have brought him in and fucked him?” He may have been slurring but his sentences were surprisingly coherent. 

“No, Spencer, I would not have. I don’t let strangers jump into my pants.” You huffed. 

“Your loss.” Spencer scoffed, pushing himself away from the wall. “He looked like he’d be good in bed.” 

“And Mary looked like a whore.” You clucked and to your surprise Spencer started to laugh. 

“She is.” He agreed, swinging the gun around. “She threw herself at me. Dropped to her knees for me before I even had to ask.” 

“Lucky man.” You rolled your eyes. “So, we aren’t fighting?” 

Spencer continued to laugh, but it soon turned from his usual light chuckle to something much darker. He started advancing on you and you felt your stomach turn as his eyes blackened and you found your back up against the wall, Spencer raising the Colt and pressing to your temple. 

“Oh, dear, sweet, Y/N.” He smirked dangerously at you. “You think you get to make out with another man and we’re just going to be ok?”

“People in glass houses, Spencer.” You spat, not letting him intimidate you.

“These people are supposed to think we’re happily married. We’re supposed to stay under the radar.” He wobbled on his feet again, his breath smelt like scotch. 

“What part of staying under the radar is fucking random girls?” You scoffed. “Tell me, did you do it in the bathroom? Up against a wall outside? Hell did you just take her over the goddamn bar for everyone to see?” 

He jammed the Colt against your head, creating a little thud as it hit your skull. You winced a little but were soon scowling at him. 

“You don’t get to be angry at me, Spencer! We either both cheated on each other or neither of us did. You don’t get to have me and a string of other girls.” You yelled, not to be deterred by the gun. 

“I get to do whatever the fuck I want.” He slurred. 

“Then so do I.” You replied. 

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you right now? To blow your fucking brains out? It would be preferable to hearing you bitch and moan all the time! I found this place for you! I didn’t want to live here, I did this for you! I found Green for you. Everything I have done has been for you and you repay me by acting like a fucking bitch!” He spat right in your face and your anger reached fever pitch. 

“You’re kidding me, right? Please tell me you are joking right now.” You raised your voice again. “You think I owe you? You think because you tracked down Green and made me a murderer and because you did this one fucking nice thing for me, I owe you? Go to hell, you asshole!”

You slapped him hard across the face causing him to stumble but it was more likely due to the alcohol. You used it to your advantage and pushed past him while he found his footing but he was soon grabbing you with bruising force around the wrist, jerking you back to him. 

“Don’t you dare talk to…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering to the hand of the wrist he was holding. “Where the fuck is your ring? My grandmother's ring! Where is it?” 

You swallowed thickly, you forgot you’d taken it off. You tried to tug your arm free of his hold but he was too strong. 

“It’s in my pocket.” You spat. 

“Why did you take it off?” He suddenly let go of you, his previous anger seemingly fading in an instant and he softened as he stared at you with large, sad eyes. 

“It’s not like it’s a real ring, Spencer.” You slipped your hand into your pocket and pulled out the band but you didn’t put it on. 

“It’s a symbol.” The hand holding the gun fell to his side and once again he used his free one to massage his temple. 

“A symbol?” You sniffed, feeling tears welling behind your eyes. “Of what? Of how you own me? Of how I’m never going to be free of you? Spencer, I feel trapped, I feel like a hostage. I don’t want to do this anymore. Please, if you ever cared about me, please let me go.” 

“What so you can be with that backwoods asshole? I don’t think so.” He shook his head. 

Your tears broke free and you cursed yourself for it, not wanting to show Spencer vulnerability. You half expected him to mock you, to tell you that you were pathetic, but what happened instead was much stranger. 

His face fell and he dropped the gun on the floor quickly coming closer to you, his hands coming up to cup your face which caused you to flinch a little. 

“Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He started stroking your tears with his thumb. “Please don’t cry.” 

You knew he was trying to be nice but you could only feel fear towards him. The speed in which he could switch between these two personalities was frightening. It was as though he’d suffered from some kind of mental break, the old Spencer was clearly still in there but the trauma from his time in prison had created a new persona, a terrifying man who could kill without remorse, and one in which you had no doubt would one day kill you as well. 

Your tears continued to fall, your legs shaking as you wished he would just leave you alone. 

“I am sick of this hot and cold, it’s like being with Jekyll and Hyde!” You snivelled. “I don’t know what mood you’re going to be in from one minute to the next! I am sick of this and I am sick of you!” 

“I don’t want to make you cry, princess. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He held you tighter, looking like he might cry too. 

“Spencer,” your lip quivered. “Do you love me?” 

He inhaled sharply before swallowing a lump in his throat. 

“Yes.” He nodded. “Very much so.” 

“Then let me go.” You choked on a sob. 

“I can’t.” His own voice cracked. “I can’t let you go. We’re bound to each other, Y/N. After what we’ve done, we’re bound together forever.” 

“Goddammit.” You sniffed and Spencer continued to wipe your tears. “You’re right and I hate that you’re right.”

“We belong together, sweetheart.” He whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“No,” you swallowed, freeing yourself from his hold. “I’m in this with you, I get that, but I don’t want to be with you. We’ll continue this sham marriage because we have to, but you and I are not together, ok?” 

“What because he’s so much better than me?” He suddenly flipped again, clenching his jaw as he spat his words at you with venom. 

“This isn’t about Jesse.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Like hell it isn’t!” He yelled. “Come on, what does he have that I don’t? Tell me, Y/N, what’s so fucking special about GI Mountain Man?” 

“For starters he isn’t a controlling asshole!” You spat back. “In fact, do you know why I like him? Because he reminds me of you, jackass! He reminds me of the Spencer Reid who used to buy me popcorn when we went to the movies and drape blankets over me when I used to fall asleep on his couch. He reminds me of the guy who always noticed when I got a haircut and always told me how good it looked even when I hated it. He reminds me of the person you used to be! The sweet, kind, thoughtful man that you used to be, Spencer. I miss him, I loved him! But I don’t know who you are anymore.” 

You were sobbing by the time you were through, gasping for air as you tossed the gold band you’d still be holding on the floor. Spencer’s expression didn’t give a lot away, you had no idea what he was thinking. And when he suddenly pushed you back against the wall and slammed his lips against yours, you were powerless to stop him.

He kissed you frantically, like it was the only thing tethering him to reality anymore, like your lips were his one final lifeline. You let him kiss you, knowing if it grew more heated and ended up in bed you’d let him have that too. Because no matter how much you hated him, you would always love him more. 

“He’ll never be me.” He spoke against your lips, hands starting to paw at your body. “He’ll never be me.” 

As expected he was soon leading you back to the bed but what wasn’t expected was how he didn’t try and undress you. His hands continued to wander your body and his lips barely left yours longer than to gasp for air every few minutes but he didn’t take it any further. 

You made out until you were both falling asleep, still fully dressed on top of the covers. And with his last ounce of energy he pulled you into his arms, muttering under his breath “he’ll never be me.” 

***

You had a fretful night sleep at best, waking early and sneaking out of bed so as not to wake Spencer. You used the bathroom down the hall to shower rather than the en-suite and once you were dressed you sat out in the first floor patio with a book as the sun started to rise. 

You’d found the gold wedding band nestled into the carpet and for some reason you decided to put it on. You chose not to think too much into that. 

It was almost noon when Spencer dragged himself outside in yesterday's wrinkled shirt and slacks, his usually messy hair a complete bird's nest. He groaned against the onslaught of the sun, rubbing his fingers against his temples. 

“Jesus Christ, it's bright.” He padded out onto the patio barefoot through the bedroom door. “Yet really fucking cold.” 

“Hmm.” You closed your book with a sigh. “Hungover?” 

“Most definitely.” He grumbled. “I’m starving, you want something to eat? I can make us something, although I may need to throw up first.” 

“You can’t cook at the best of times.” You rolled your eyes. 

There was a thick tension between you after last night and you weren’t sure if Spencer was ignoring it or he didn’t notice. 

“True. I am a genius though so I could probably figure out how to cook eggs.” He chuckled but then immediately groaned when the effort caused his head to throb. “Fuck I drank a lot.” 

“I noticed.” You pushed yourself to your feet and cradled the book under your arm. “As enjoyable as eggs cooked by a man who has never cooked eggs before sounds, I have plans.”

Spencer huffed out a large breath, shaking his head and looking down at the floor. 

“Let me guess, GI Mountain Man?”

“His name is Jesse. But yes.” As if on cue the doorbell rang.

Spencer swung around, ignoring his hangover as he suddenly started back inside. You hurried after him, catching up to him in the bedroom and grabbing his arm. 

“No, no. You’re not going anywhere.” You tugged him backwards. “Just leave it, Spencer.” 

He looked like he might argue with you, it wouldn’t be out of character as of late for him to do so. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened but then he softened again in an instant.

“Fine.” He shrugged, stepping aside out of your way. “If this is how you want this to be, then fine.”

“I think it’s for the best.” You rolled your lip between your teeth as the doorbell sounded again. “I’ll be there in a second!” You called down. 

“I wish you could understand that everything I’ve done has been for you. When are you gonna stop making out like I’m the bad guy here?” He rubbed his temples again. 

“Maybe when you stop acting like one.” You shook your head, did he really not see how he’d been behaving? Did he really think you were the one being unjust? “Why don’t you go see General Store Barbie, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun with her. Or is Bartender Barbie? Oh you’ve got yourself a little two-for-one play thing.” 

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “I’m too hungover to fight with you.” 

“Wow, maybe you should drink more often.” You scoffed as you turned on your heels and headed to the door. 

Spencer simply watched you go, wishing there was something he could say or do to stop you. But he knew if he kept fighting with you, he would only push you further into Mountain Man’s arms. 

He needed to prove to you that he could be better, that he wasn’t the enemy and that the two of you could be happy together. But despite his high IQ and all his smarts, he had no idea how to make this right. He needed to find a way to show you he wasn’t the bad guy. 

But the problem was, he was starting to think that he might be. 

***

After drinking copious amounts of coffee and indulging in a forty five minute shower, Spencer felt something akin to normal again. He made a vow to himself to never drink that much again. 

He briefly contemplated trying to find Mary but quickly decided against it. Instead he jumped in the Nissan and drove two hundred miles out east to Colorado Springs.

Colorado Springs was home to a rather unsavoury character named Edward Grimes. Grimes was a child molestor who had flown under the radar of the cops for years mostly because his young victims were too terrified to speak out. And coincidentally, Spencer was angry and needed a kill. 

He didn’t usually kill during the day time, it left too much room for witnesses. But the rage boiling in his chest needed to be sated somehow, and if it wasn’t Grimes who took the brunt of it, it may well be Jesse. But Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to kill someone in a town he'd just arrived in, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Grimes was in his home, watching the tiny TV on his grubby couch in his boxers and stained wife beater vest. Spencer observed him through the window for a while, feeling sick to his stomach at this cretin. 

He scoped the neighbourhood for a while, and after noting his neighbours weren’t home, he tried the back door and found it unlocked. Of course, because when you were a monster, what’s the worst that could walk through your door? 

Grimes was about to find out. 

Killing Grimes hadn't been as satisfying as Spencer would have liked. Usually his victims begged him to spare their life, apologised for their crimes. But Grimes simply smirked at Spencer and told him he’d do it all again if he had the chance. 

And so Spencer sliced his throat so violently he almost severed the man’s head in the process. 

He’d gotten into a routine of cleaning up the crime scene and disposing of the bodies. He always drove far away and buried his victims in National parks or grasslands where it would be a long while before their bodies were discovered. He’d drive elsewhere and burn his clothes and cleaning supplies. 

Getting Grimes’ body into his car was difficult on two counts. One, it was daylight and there was much more chance of him being seen. He tried to limit exposure by opening the garage door and backing the Nissan up as far as he could in front of Grimes vehicle. Secondly, Grimes was close to three hundred pounds, not taking into account dead weight. Spencer was stronger than he looked but he would be surprised if Derek Morgan wouldn’t struggle with this activity. 

He laid the corpse on a garbage bag to stop the transfer of blood throughout the house and dragged him slowly from the living room, through the kitchen and into the garage. The garage was narrow and Grimes' car took up most of the space so getting the body passed to his own vehicle was the hardest part. 

No, scratch that, the hardest part was trying to hoist a three hundred pound corpse into the trunk. Honestly, Spencer wasn’t even sure how he did it and he didn’t look forward to having to get him back out again. He finished cleaning up and changed from his bloody jeans and t-shirt into a button down and slacks before leaving the house exactly as he found it. 

He then drove a further one hundred and forty miles north to the Arapaho and Roosevelt National Forest where he found a quiet and secluded area of the woods to dig Grime’s grave. 

By this point it was getting dark and it was nearly a four hour drive back to Crested Butte and Spencer was sure he would fall asleep at the wheel if he attempted it. Instead he drove further east into Idaho Springs and got a motel room for the night. In the morning he would take care of the cleaning supplies and soiled clothes on his way back. 

He had another long shower, feeling utterly exhausted from the day and collapsed on the bed. He pulled out the burner phone and typed in a number. He wasn’t even a little surprised when it rang. 

***

Butte 66 Bar and Grill was situated a few miles out of town by the Crested Butte Mountain Resort. Jesse drove you to the base of the mountain and the two of you took the ski lift up the peak. He’d told you the views from up there were some of the best you’d ever see and it did not disappoint. 

You felt like you were on top of the world yet isolated, able to see nothing but the slightly frosted tips of mountains as far as you looked. The grill was mostly empty as it was off season and it allowed you to feel as though you and Jesse were the only people on the planet. 

You ate and talked about nothing and everything all at once. Of course you kept your story vague, didn’t talk about Spencer, mostly kept asking him about his life. 

He’d been born and raised in Butte, but unlike most of its towns folk, Jesse had managed to escape. He’d left for college in New York where he’d stayed until five years ago when his mother suddenly passed away. He’d returned to the Butte for his father, who it transpired was the kindly older man named Fred who had served you in the diner yesterday morning. 

Jesse was an only child and his mothers death had almost broken his father. So he came home to keep the diner afloat and helped out with snowboarding lessons in the winter, a sport he’d partaken in since he was a teenager. 

His dad recovered but Jesse never left. He told you that he felt close to his mom here and leaving wasn’t an option for him anymore. He lived in the little apartment over McGill’s which had been his parents place before he was born. 

After lunch you walked around the resort for a while and once back in town you’d gone to another of Crested Butte’s many bars, The Eldo. And when he’d invited you back to his apartment you couldn’t say no. 

You cuddled up on his couch and he put on a movie although you didn’t watch much of it in lieu of making out. You made out for so long and you were so turned on, but Jesse didn’t seem in a hurry to take things further. Sometimes when you wanted something, you just had to take it. 

You let your hands wander from where they’d been around his neck, down over his strong chest. You pushed yourself against him, trying to convey what you wanted. When your hands reached the bottom of his shirt and started toying with the hem, he pulled back from your lips with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” You suddenly felt insecure at the way he was looking at you uncertainly. 

“Nothings wrong.” He tried to smile. “In fact everything is very, very right. I just…I don’t want you to think I did all this today because I want to get you into bed.” 

“You don’t want to get me into bed?” You smirked at him and it caused him to laugh. 

“Oh no, I very much want to get you into bed, hell I’d settle for this couch. But I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of guy. Because I’m not.” His eyes were serious as they looked at you. 

“I don’t think you're that kind of guy.” You reached and took hold of his hand, sensing there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it. 

He threaded his fingers in yours and sighed. 

“I told you that I’ve had my share of complicated relationships. My last real one really did a number on me and I don’t make a habit of getting close to people. To that end...” He chewed on his lip. “I haven’t…it’s been almost two years since I’ve…you know…with someone.”

The blush that crept to his cheeks was just about the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. You brought his hand to your lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. 

“Jesse, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” You reassured him. 

“Oh I really want to. You have no idea how much.” He chuckled. “Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted something so much in my life. I’m just, uh, worried I might be…rusty?” 

“You are completely and utterly adorable.” You pulled him closer by his hand and kissed him again.

“Adorable, great. That’s just what every man wants to hear from the woman he wants to sleep with.” He laughed as he kissed you.

“Being adorable doesn’t make you any less fucking sexy, Jesse.” You hissed as he deepened the kiss, laying you back against the couch. 

You could feel him straining against his jeans as his hands started to wander down your chest. They glided over your torso and were soon on the waistband of your pants. You bucked against his hands, encouraging him to undo them. His tongue plunged deeper inside your mouth as he started working on the button. 

Just as it popped open and his hand was roaming towards your panties, the burner phone in your jacket started to ring. Jesse tore his lips away from you and looked at you with a slightly sad smile. 

“I can only imagine who that might be.” He sighed as he spoke. 

“I don’t have to get it.” You rolled your lip between your teeth as the device kept ringing. 

“But you should, right?” He sat back on the couch with a shrug. 

You nodded and pushed yourself to your shaky legs. Your jacket was slung over the back of one of the bar stools at the island that separated the kitchen and living areas. You pulled the phone out of your inside pocket and put it to your ear, turning your back on Jesse who was still on the couch. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” Spencer’s voice came down the phone, sounding utterly exhausted. “I won’t be back tonight so feel free to spend the night with your mountain man.” 

You glanced over your shoulder to where Jesse was now getting to his feet. He motioned towards the bathroom before making his way over there. 

“Did you hear me?” Spencer spoke again. 

You waited until the bathroom door was closed before you replied. 

“Yes I heard you. Let me guess, you’re with Fire Crotch Barbie?” You scowled. 

“Oh Y/N,” he chuckled. “The carpets don’t match the drapes if that’s what you’re inferring. But no, I am out of town.” 

“Out of town? Why would you be…” you trailed off as your chest tightened at the realisation of why Spencer would be out of town. “Goddamnit, seriously?” 

“Needs must.” He replied simply. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Fine.” You spat.

“Fine.” Amusement danced in his tone. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodnight, princess. Don’t miss me too much.” 

You hung up the phone just as the bathroom door opened again and Jesse stepped out. He slowly crossed the room towards you. 

“Your husband?” He asked with a sorrowful smile.

“Yeah.” You nodded stiffly. 

“You have to go?” 

“Yeah.” You lied although you weren’t sure you meant to. “He, uh, he locked himself out of the cabin so I need to go let him in.” 

“Let me walk you.” He went to turn to grab his jacket but you placed your hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s ok.” You forced a smile. “This place seems pretty safe and it’s like a four minute walk or something. I can take care of myself.” 

“Ok.” He nodded, eyebrows furrowing together. “Is this a good idea? You and me and whatever this is between us?” 

“I have no idea.” You told him honestly. “I don’t want to be another complicated woman in your life.” 

Jesse chuckled softly, moving closer to you and cupping your face in his warm hands.

“If someone had told me yesterday I would even be considering seeing a married woman I would have laughed in their face. Complicated really is the last thing I need.” He inched closer, resting his forehead on yours. “But you make complicated seem so simple.” 

When he kissed you again your legs wobbled and he took your breath away. For a brief second, you almost stayed. But maybe Spencer calling had been a blessing in disguise. Just because he’d slept with someone else didn’t mean you should too. Two wrongs don’t make a right, even if this particular wrong felt oh so right. 

Spencer was the bad guy in this story, not you. And it wasn’t fair for you to use this wonderful man in front of you as a pawn in you and Spencer’s sick games. So you tore yourself away from his lips and grabbed your jacket, reluctantly forcing yourself towards the door. 

Maybe you and Jesse would have another chance, maybe he’d be the hero who swept in and saved you from Spencer. But villains didn’t make a habit of backing down without a fight, and it shouldn’t be down to Jesse to have to defeat him for you. 

Spencer may call you a princess but you were no damsel in distress. And if you wanted the monster defeated you were more than capable of slaying him yourself. 

But you weren’t sure you wanted to. 

I spend the night, yeah, doing ninety in a sixty five,

Ignore the lights 'til I'm by your side.

Because when you take this out on me my, knees get weak,

With that heart of kryptonite.

I stole the moon,

I made the stars align.

And I showed you how to fly,

And you made me the bad guy.

You paint the scene, with the colors of an enemy,

All over me, and for your friends to see.

I took just one misstep and now I'm hanging by my feet,

Out of sight and out of reach.

I stole the moon,

I made the stars align.

I showed you how to fly,

And you made me the bad guy.

I fought for you,

I kept you safe at night.

I would have risked my life,

And you made me the bad guy.

You made me the bad guy.

You made me the bad guy.

Yeah, you made me the bad guy.

Guess I forgot, guess I forgot,

History repeats.

Once lost and found, once lost and found,

We're too blind to see.

Just show me how, just show me how the villain is me.

And I stole the moon,

I made the stars align.

I showed you how to fly,

And you made me the bad guy.

When I fought for you,

I kept you safe at night.

I would have risked my life,

And you made me the bad guy.

You made me the bad guy.

Now do they even know,

You made me the bad guy.

Ha, got it,

You made me the bad guy.

@bubblebuttwade @daddy-dotcom @andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @thebloomingeagle

[deanstead]

Five Times, and then One

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: yes, by anon

Summary: Five times Jay failed to propose and the one time he did

Square Filled: 5 +1 for #resa.3kfiestabingo

Word Count: 2,853

Tags/Warnings: canon typical mentions of passing out, blood

A/N: I took way too long to write this, partly because of exams and the nonsense that was happening in my inbox. This is mainly unedited but I still hope you'll enjoy it!

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

1

The first time Jay tried to propose, he’d taken you out for a date.

He’d decided this weeks ago, when he looked over at you where you were sitting next to him in bed. Your finger was moving across your lit phone screen as you scrolled through whatever you were looking at, mildly complaining about what had happened that day at work. And it had hit him out of nowhere.

So he’d gone to Will to get his mother’s ring, but ever since he’d taken it with him, it had alternated between sitting in a dark corner of his closet where you wouldn’t find it, or buried deep in his pocket.

Now, the ring sat in his pocket, feeling like it weighed a ton, while you sat across from him, totally unsuspecting as you ate, smiling up at him before you launched into your new story of the day.

As he listened to you talk with a fond smile on his face, one of his hands reached into his pocket, closing around the ring box.

“Y/N, listen. I…” The words were just at his lips, the ring box almost out of his pocket now, a mere inch away from allowing the warm yellow light of the restaurant’s lights to hit it when there was a crash from just a few tables away.

Both your heads whipped up instinctively, and before anyone could say anything more, both you and Jay were already on the move. Your napkin fluttered to the floor as you got to your feet and rushed over to where the man was already on the ground.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” You called to him immediately, as you bent closer to him to check his breathing.

You glanced up towards Jay who nodded quietly at you from where he was already on the phone with dispatch.

You looked up at the crowd that was pressing around. “Hi guys, can we give him some space, some room to breathe, alright?”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

You didn’t need to look up to know it would be another pretentious face looking down at you.

You held back a sigh. “I’m a paramedic. Everyone just…”

Jay looked up, registering immediately that you were having a little trouble with crowd control, returning back to allow you to focus on the guy who was on the floor.

Before long, his eyes fluttered open.

“Sir?”

He groaned and you gently pushed his shoulder back down onto the floor. “Listen, I’m a paramedic. You passed out so try not to move and the ambulance will be here soon, alright?”

Before long, the paramedics that were actually on duty arrived. “Y/L/N?”

You smiled and shrugged at the paramedic that had walked in before you turned back to the man on the ground. “You’re in good hands.”

After giving your colleagues a summary of the symptoms you had witnessed, Jay’s hands were already gently helping you to your feet.

“Dinner’s ruined, I guess?” You asked and Jay just gave you a small smile of defeat, the ring still sitting at the bottom of his pocket.

2

The second time, Jay had arranged for dinner at another restaurant, ready for another try.

Until he’d gotten a call from Will that you were in the ED.

The ring bouncing along in his coat pocket as he ran, Jay burst into the ED, Maggie directing him to a treatment room with reassurances that you were fine falling on deaf ears.

“Jay?” You asked, as your boyfriend practically burst into the room.

“I told you I was fine and he didn’t need to be here.” You spoke, a reproachful tone creeping into your voice as you glanced at Will.

Will put his hands up in surrender. “Do not get me involved in this. I relayed everything you told me.”

Jay’s eyes were still looking you up and down and you read his expression almost instantly.

“J.” You waited till his green eyes met yours. “I’m fine. Look, uncooperative and mildly violent patients are kind of in the job description.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed.

“Usually if the rest of the firefighters are there it generally goes off without a hitch but you know how it is. I got off with a few scratches and a slight concussion. It gives me a good excuse to rest. I don’t even have to stay in.” You paused, swinging your head towards Will. “Right?”

Will nodded. “Yeah, you can take her back after this.”

Jay leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll cancel the reservation and we’ll order in tonight okay? Just to be safe.”

You smiled and nodded, welcoming the physical contact as Jay swallowed down a sigh.

3

You grinned back at Jay as the waitress put down the greasy big breakfast platter in front of you and he just returned you a fond smile.

Third time’s a charm.

Jay had been telling himself this since he’d woken up that morning and put the ring box discreetly into his pocket. Breakfast wasn’t his idea of an ideal date followed by a proposal but he figured that maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky he’d be able to pop the question before the madness of the day for the both of you started.

You were about halfway through your breakfast when Jay thought he'd better get his ass moving. He reached down towards his pocket just as his phone rang.

Jay sighed, giving you a look and you just smiled, putting another spoonful of eggs into your mouth as he answered his phone.

“Halstead.”

You glanced up from your plate, knowing the words that were about to come out of his mouth before he’d even hung up the phone.

“Babe, I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “Jay, we talked about this. I’m fine and I have to go in to the firehouse after this anyway.”

Something seemed a little different with him today and you reached out for his hand. “Hey. Everything’s okay right?” You asked.

Jay smiled and nodded, getting up and heading towards your side of the table without letting your hand go. “Yeah. Today was supposed to be a nice breakfast date, that’s all.”

You gave a small chuckle. “Go on, Detective. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jay exhaled, almost like a sigh before he pressed a kiss to your forehead, squeezing your hand one more time and headed out towards his truck parked right outside.

Jay took one last look back at you, where you smiled at him before he pushed open the door stepping out onto the street, muttering under his breath.

“Third time’s a charm my ass.”

4

Jay was determined to get it right this time.

So he’d made sure to put in time off for this weekend when you were also off work so that he could take you out.

“A picnic? We haven’t done this since…”

Jay nodded. “Since we started dating.”

You raised an eyebrow back at him. “Exactly. So, what’s up?”

“Why does something have to be up?” Jay smiled, the way he did when he was being slightly cheeky and wanting to tease you.

You gave in with a smile and a small shake of your head. “Let’s go my big baby.”

So you allowed Jay to drag you to the park. He’d prepared everything - food, a blanket for the both of you to sit on, he’d even brought along your shades so you could lie flat on your back and watch the clouds move without straining your eyes.

“Admit it, you’re enjoying this.”

You turned to glance at Jay where he was lying next to you, his arm serving as the most comfortable headrest for you.

“Yeah, this was a great idea.” You told Jay, inching towards him just a little more so you were cuddled more snugly into his side as you turned your eyes back towards the sky.

Jay hummed with satisfaction, glancing at you before he reached into his pocket, his hands closing around the ring box finally…

And then a scream ripped through the park before a deadly silence followed.

The both of you shot into an upright position, glancing at each other with foreboding looks. People within your line of vision seemed to be looking around for the source, until you saw them.

“Jay.”

A guy wielding a knife that was already bloodied, another one stumbling, the dark red patch of blood across his abdomen visible even from here.

Great.

Jay cast one last look at you. “Be careful.”

You nodded, as the both of you got to your feet.

“Hey!” Jay yelled, as the guy holding the knife shrugged off the guy behind him and started running. You ran towards the victim now who had crumpled onto the floor, getting to your knees by his side.

“I need you to call 911, alright?” You told a guy who was standing nearby and he nodded, fumbling with his cell phone as you turned back to the patient.

“Hi, my name is Y/N. I’m a paramedic, alright? What’s your name?” You asked shedding off your jacket quickly and balling it up before pressing it down against his wound.

“Max.” He said, his breath coming out a little shallow.

You nodded, looking at him. “Alright, Max, look at me. I need you to hang in there for a while, alright?”

You felt his breathing get a little shallower and you glanced around, catching the thought of “why does this always happen” before you focused again.

“Coming through!”

The familiar voice made you look up. “Courtney?”

“Y/N?” Courtney glanced up, slightly confused until she saw that you weren’t in uniform. “Thick of things, huh?”

You smiled and shook your head before turning back to the patient. “Max, Courtney here’s a friend and she’s going to get you to the hospital alright?”

You let the paramedics take over before you spoke in a lower voice. “Stab wound but I don’t know how deep. His breathing is a little shallow but he was alert the whole time.”

Courtney nodded. “Thanks, Y/N. We got it from here.”

As Courtney and her partner took Max back towards the ambulance on the stretcher, you glanced around.

There was no sign of Jay, which kind of worried you, so you got up, your bloodstained jacket still lying on the ground, your hands still stained with blood as you glanced around.

Quietly, you headed towards the direction Jay had run in, your eyes raking across the park worriedly.

Then you spotted him, heading in your direction.

“Jay.” His name left your lips along with a sigh of relief as he spotted you and jogged towards you, before he paused.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice going up a few notches like it did when he was worried.

That’s when you looked down, realizing that blood had gotten on your clothes too.

You shook your head. “I’m okay. But you…”

Jay enveloped you gently into his embrace. “It’s okay, it’s just a few scratches. We’re okay.”

You just sighed into his embrace, feeling him press you gently against him.

5

Maybe it was trying to propose outside that was the problem. Because Jay refused to believe in what other people called signs. Screw this, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

So this time, he was going to come home, have a quiet dinner with you and then he would propose. He was sure of it.

But when he got home, you were standing at the counter, one of your hands gripping the edge of the table as you leaned forward.

“Babe?”

You didn’t answer him, trying your best to stay upright as your stomach contracted again.

You heard the clatter of the keys down onto the counter before he headed towards you. “Hey, baby. What’s…”

He paused, noticing the way one of your hands was pressing down on your abdomen.

“Alright, I got you.” Jay said, easily scooping you into his arms and heading towards the couch.

You groaned. “This sucks.”

“I know.” Jay said, his voice dropping lower as he tried to make you as comfortable as he could. “I’m sorry.”

Jay mentally rolled his eyes. Of course it would be the day you were battling with cramps, with your temperature bordering a little on a fever. This happened once in a while so he wasn't especially worried, but it had to be today.

He was back soon after, with a hot water bottle that he handed to you, before he scooted in next to you so you could put your head in his lap.

Soothingly, Jay ran his fingers through your hair. “I’ll order Chinese, let’s get something hot in you and we can watch something that makes you happy.”

You turned your face up to look at him.

“What?” He asked with a small smile.

“Watching something that makes me happy.” You answered.

Jay chuckled, leaning down to press his lips gently against yours. “At least you can joke.”

You groaned as another cramp hit you and Jay put a gentle hand on your head, reaching out with his other hand for yours, squeezing it gently.

“Sorry, baby.” Jay whispered, the ring box still sitting securely in his jacket pocket hanging by the door.

And One

Jay put a hot drink in your hand and draped the blanket over your shoulders as you stood at the windows, watching the snow attack Chicago.

The television was still on, the newscaster sharing updates about how everyone was advised to stay indoors as conditions outside could be dangerous.

Jay pulled his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder quietly. You smiled, feeling an extra bout of warmth as Jay pressed his body close to you.

“Guess we’re stuck here.” You said quietly. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Jay nodded, nuzzling his face gently into your neck. “So am I.” He whispered.

The both of you stood there for a while, before you glanced back at him. “You hungry? We still have those frozen lasagnas, I can whip them up. We shouldn’t starve to death in here.”

Jay chuckled and nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you baby.”

As the sounds of you moving around in the kitchen filled the quiet apartment, the idea hit Jay so suddenly he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

It was perfect. The both of you were on legitimate time off from work, the storm in Chicago was preventing either of you from leaving the house or from anyone knocking on your door. Effectively cut off from the world was exactly what Jay needed.

Taking the opportunity that had presented itself, Jay quietly took the ring box from his coat and slipped it into his pocket, figuring he’d play this by ear.

He didn’t have long to wait since the both of you had to wait for the frozen food to be ready anyway so he’d taken out a wine bottle and you smiled.

“Maybe I kind of like getting stuck.” You said quietly, as you quietly clinked your glass with Jay.

Jay smiled. “You do?”

“If it’s with you.” You answered back with a smile, taking a sip of wine before you leaned in closer to him.

Then Jay pulled back.

You froze, a confused expression crossing your face as Jay slipped off the bar chair he was sitting on at the counter next to you.

“Jay?” You asked, a slight tone of insecurity slipping out as his name rolled off your tongue.

“I’ve been trying to do this for months, and I kept searching for the perfect moment, the perfect setting but then I realized…” He paused. “I realized any moment, any setting is perfect as long as you’re in it with me.”

Jay sank to one knee and you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You blinked back at him, frozen, like you couldn’t believe this was happening.

Jay didn’t push even though you saw his expression shift like he was worried he’d said something wrong.

“Jay Halstead, I will most definitely marry you.”

Jay smiled, slipping the ring onto your finger and you knew. You knew the significance of this ring, the Halsteads had joked about it enough in front of you, back when you and Jay had just been friends. And yet it was now sitting on your finger. Because Jay had decided on you.

Jay got to his feet now, pulling you tighter against him before he leaned down to give you a deep sealing kiss and you melted into his arms, knowing that this was the man you could entrust your lifetime to.

“I love you.” Jay whispered, as he pulled away slightly, his lips still hovering inches from you.

“I love you.” You said, pressing another kiss onto his lips as the oven dinged, signaling to the both of you that dinner was ready, as were the both of you to step forward, together.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

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[queer-ragnelle]

What are some of the weirdest stories/books/movies etc you've encountered in your Arthuriana journey? Whatever weird might mean to you (good/bad/unsettling/unexpected/surreal/goofy)

Hi anon!

This is honestly a tough thing to answer because what even constitutes a weird Arthurian retelling? They're all pretty weird haha! But I definitely have a few that come to mind

The French film Perceval (1978) is super weird in a great way! It's shot on a stage with painted backgrounds and metallic trees and structures for the set. Real horses are brought on. A troupe of bards provide diegetic music, playing instruments and singing a narration of events on screen while also acting as characters in their own right (such as the jester Kay throws into the fire). Perceval and Gauvain narrate their own stories in third person at times too. It's surreal! It's as if Perceval's world is "fake," since his mother has kept him isolated for so long, it's a distorted view of reality. This is the closest adaptation of Chrétien de Troyes's Story of the Grail I can think of, it's nearly word-for-word, BUT! They removed the racism and antisemitism. Two thumbs up! The ending is bananas. There's no describing it, you just have to watch. You can download this movie from my MEGA drive or it can be watched for free on Tubi! (Content warning for nudity and some gore.)

The film Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) is my favorite adaptation of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. The main character Tom works for NASA developing an android named Hermes. Through a comedy of errors, both Tom and Hermes end up launched into space at the speed of light, traveling through time, and crash land in Camelot, 508AD. Mordred mistakes Tom for a monster (due to his space suit and orb-shaped helmet) but Tom quickly wins Arthur's trust and allowed to hang out. He meets Sandy, a girl who thinks her dad has been transformed into a goose, and together with her and a page named Clarance, works to return home. It's exceedingly silly. I much prefer the character Tom (and Hermes, who is identical in appearance to Tom and jousts for him) to Sir Boss in the Connecticut Yankee film from 1949 with Bing Crosby. Tom's gun is funnier than the original as it's more like a science-fiction laser that blows things up. He also has a magnet ray he uses to draw armored knights where he wants. Not a good film, but goofy and fun. You can download this movie from my MEGA drive! (No content warnings, it's a family movie!)

The film Excalibur (1981) obviously has to make this list. Coincidentally, it's mostly for Percival again. The Grail Quest segment accounts for just 20 minutes of the entire film, but it feels like eons. And it's So Weird. It's safe to call it horror. Percival meets struggle after struggle, encountering many dead comrades along the way, raving mad townspeople struggling to survive, Morgan and Mordred attempting to steer him wrong. He's eventually hung from a tree and has a vision of God's voice. (Hallucination or real?) The dead knight dangling above him sways and his spurs cut Percival free. From there he runs into Uriens and holds him as he dies, struck down by miscreant knights. Percival eventually achieves the grail, obviously, but it's not until he's pushed the absolute limits. It's probably one of my favorite sequences in film ever. 11/10. You can download this from my MEGA drive! (Content warning for nudity, rape, gore, and incest.)

As for books, I recommend The Modern Arthur Trilogy by Peter David. The first one is Arthur running for mayor of NYC, the second one is President of the United States, and the third one he sort of becomes a god. It's wild. Other characters include Guinevere, Lancelot, Morgan le Fay, Mordred, Percival, Merlin, and of course the Lake of the Lake. The sequels randomly add Gilgamesh and Enkidu (and later Noah, like the guy with an ark in the Bible??) and it's all very strange indeed. The first book is definitely the best but Gilgamesh/Enkidu were pretty freaky (affectionate) so I did enjoy that, although the whole premise of book two is...meh. I listened to the graphic audio books which were awesome, the sound effect of Arthur falling down the subway stairs in full armor is worth every penny. (Content warning for incest, murder, cannibalism, racism, and terrorism)

[sosa2imagines]

I had my dance and now I'm where I belong. Part 4

----------------------------------------------------- Warning- Angst for Bucky, Fluff for everyone ----------------------------------------------------- Part 5 Part 6 -----------------------------------------------------

Nat was getting impatient by the minute narrowing her eyes while Tony had his eyes glued to the screen. Finally shifting his focus over to Nat he open his mouth "You see Romanoff you are my favorite for a reason be it lying or hiding something you just say it without hesitation unlike my Y/n and Capsical, so my darling Friday showed me a nice movie 'The arrival of Sharon'" and that's how Nat ended up telling Tony everything. "So Sam knew" "You can't blame him" "Yeah it's not like it would have changed the outcome" Truth to be told even though Tony was looking calm from the outside he was fuming in anger from inside, his blood was boiling how could Bucky do this to you when you have been with him through thick and thin. Tony did forgive Bucky for killing his parents cause that was not him but what he did to you that was unforgivable his mind was in control the moment he decided to cheat on you. Sure Tony was a playboy but he did never cheat on Pepper.

Their conversation was cut short when you called Nat and Tony demanded to put it on speaker and Nat warn him to be quiet "Nat I saw Sharon and Bucky today but I didn't felt angry, bad or sad not even jealous all I kept thinking about was making dinner for Steve that reminds me I have buy him some brownies" "And your problem is?" "NATASHA I should be feeling negative seeing them but I didn't felt anything I kept on thinking about Steve" "Y/N it's ok not to feel anything it does not mean you didn't love Bucky it only means you have moved on, you had pain but now it's time to gain it's ok if you are falling for Steve, you are smiling right hearing his name" "yes" you blush "take your time Y/n feel this new beginning now go home to your man" "Nat! I love you bye! Nat's words played in your mind you have thinking a lot about Steve way before you found your photo in his compass, unknowingly Steve Rogers set a permanent home in your heart unknown to you, you are already living in his.

"She seriously is worried about not feeling anything for those two parasites? Barnes is an idiot to let go of her" "You know her always thinking about others just like" "Steve they are made for each other" Tony smirks "True, so what are you going to do?" Nat smiles. "Just wait and watch" Tony smiled not so innocently.

The next day- "Mr Barnes, Boss is expecting your arrival in the training room" Bucky was confused as to why of all Tony was waiting for him. "Hey you wanted to see me?" Tony smirks "I wanted to train join me" "You don't train usually" "I want to test some features" "What?" Before he can even know what Tony meant, Tony was wearing his suit and blasted at Bucky making him crash on the wall behind, Tony attacked him again using different weaponry on his armor, groaning in pain Bucky asked "Tony what are you doing?" "What I'm training it's not like on purpose I'm attacking you!" Bucky somehow managed to stand up but Tony was quick to punch him making Bucky stumble down, that didn't stop Tony from launching another blow resulting in a cut on Bucky's cheek. Tony attacks Bucky again using his repulsor blasts and laser beams Bucky is panting miserably and getting irritated he uses his metal arm to strike Tony which proves to be a formidable weapon. Tony eventually gains the upper hand after blasting Bucky with multiple blasts that leaves Bucky lying on the ground panting gasping for air, blood dripping from the cuts, bones paining like hell. Tony finally shows some pity as he was about to leave Bucky stops him voice coarse "Y/n?" "Be grateful you are alive, I knew she was hiding something I forgave you for what you did to me but you will pay for what you did to her, after everything she did for you unbelievable!" "On a second thought I will wait till Sharon screws this up" and with that he leaves Bucky alone.

After some time Bucky limping somehow manages to enter his room there he sees Sharon all dressed up "Oh my god what happened to you?" she asks examining his body and face. "I was training with Tony" he half lies too tired to talk, "can you help me up?" "I'll fill up the bathtub, you'll feel better, there are painkillers in the cabinet I'll see you later" "Wait where are you going?" "I have an important meeting I'm getting late I'll see you later" "Can't you postpone it? Stay with me I need you" "No Bucky this meeting is important" "More important than me?" Bucky whines too tired to fight "Stop acting like a child Bucky you are a super solider you'll feel better in few hours" she argues tired of his whining "I need your help Y/n would have" "Y/n would have what?" Sharon cuts him mid sentence yelling at him for mentioning you. Bucky is shocked to after months he thought about you but why? "Get your head straight and hopefully by the time I'm back you are back to your senses" with that Sharon leaves.

Bucky somehow manages to strip down and drag his body in the bathtub as soon as he feels the hot water he starts to think about you, why did he thought about you today why but then his mind drifted to other memories of you like how you use to take care of him, massage his body while he lays in the bathtub, how you would wash his hair, feed him and put him to sleep but he shook his head and blamed his tired body for thinking about you. Everything hurt at the moment and no one was there to help him he could barely move.

Few nights later- 'Steve where are you please come back I miss you so much I need you, Y/n I'm here look Y/n don't look that way I'm here can't you see me Y/n Y/n Steve Y/n Steve Steve Steve wake up' Steve wakes up eyes wide open gasping for air he sits straight to see your worried face " hey hey it's ok, relax you are here it was just a dream" Steve is panting but grabs your arms and makes you sit on his lap making you cradle is waist he hides his face in the crook of your neck and you can feel tears running down on your shoulder "Steve feel my arms on your back and try to breathe ok" he does as you told him, after 20 minutes when you feel him getting calm you ask him "want to talk about it?" "I saw you were hurt and you were calling for me, I was there but you couldn't see me I was stuck in time." "Hey" you pull away cradling his face "look at me, you are here with me I'm not going anywhere ok? and I'm not letting you go anywhere" "I don't want to time travel ever again" "Then you won't and if the situation arises I'll go with you promise" Steve just stares at you his focus shifting to your eyes and lips after few minutes he speaks" Y/n I wanted to wait for the right time but I can't wait I...I...I love you" "Steve" you whisper. "You don't have to say it but I wanted you to know, can I k.. kiss you?" You don't answer you just nod. That’s all it takes for him to close the distance between the two of you, your lips move in sync, warm skin against warm skin and you can’t help the butterflies that bubble up inside your tummy. His hands gently run along your sides, you lean forwards deepening the kiss and he slowly slips his hands under your shirt, feeling your soft skin and groaning against your lips. Pulling away he looks at you "Will you go out on a date with me?" You smile deeply "I would love too"

----------------------------------------------------- Part 5 Part 6 ----------------------------------------------------- (Hey lovely people so finally Bucky got hell from Tony, Bucky is getting a taste of his own medicine Sharon started showing her true colors, as always feedback is appreciated lots of love 😊❤️. Sneak peek- Bucky will realize how the reader felt and his lust ship with Sharon will begin to go down the drain also more suffering for Bucky in next part) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hello, How Are You?

Synopsis: You’re just an ordinary someone who lives alone and likes to play Genshin Impact, nothing more, nothing less. One day you’re drawn towards a mysterious light, and find out the game is more real than you thought.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Allusions to depression and anxiety, rain, mentions of crying, fear, panic

~ * ~ It’s raining again today. Not that you really mind- it’s peaceful, in a way, getting to stay inside where it’s quiet and warm, all while listening to the soft pitter-patter of droplets upon the roof. Something about it just soothes your heart; a welcome relief from the anxious torrents your nerves normally have to endure. When the rain comes, the world shrinks to just you, your house, and the almost annoyingly comfortable blanket you adore. Oh, and your favorite game, of course. Genshin Impact isn’t exactly unknown these days, and you’d been one of many to delve into the game and become an avid player. There’s nothing better than immersing yourself in the story and characters of the game and ignoring all the troubles and tribulations of life, the tension from one long day after another easing away as you slide into your seat and press the power button on your device. The screen flickers to life, dotted with notifications from nowhere and everywhere- family, work, other games. The greetings from friends are your favorite, making you smile even on the darkest of days. Quickly you reply before clicking on Genshin’s icon, drumming your nails on the desk as the shining door on the home screen opens and you watch the seven elemental sigils turn from light to dark. Finally the Geo symbol loads and you’re launched into the game, appearing exactly where you left off- outside the Golden House. A small grin spreads across your face as you enter the domain, the one weekly boss you never, ever forget to fight, not for materials, but to see him. When Childe appears you hide a laugh behind your hand and greet him kindly- it’s a habit you’ve formed out of sheer joy of seeing your favorite character. “Hello, how are you?” You prop your head in your hands, listening to his usual spiel about opportunities and surrender and promising to be gentle. You sigh at that last part, knowing you won’t be able to promise the same for him if you wanted to reach your favorite phase. The battle isn’t difficult- just the opposite, in fact, with how far you’ve progressed in the story- but you still love it all the same, the anticipation of seeing your favorite part- the best part- quickly growing as you whittle away his health through phases one and two, taking your time to admire his movements and voicelines before you strike the final blow and the cutscene plays. You lean back in your chair, intently watching the clip with shining eyes as Childe turns his back to the Traveler and transforms, landing on the ground as Foul Legacy, and you have to hold yourself back from letting out a dreamy sigh upon seeing your favorite character in his absolute best form. You watch as he calls to the Devouring Deep and slams his spear down, sending the Traveler and Paimon tumbling down into the lower arena, your thousandth time seeing it. But no matter how many times you get to witness his Foul Legacy form, it still takes your breath away, and you eagerly poise your fingers over your keyboard as the fight draws near. Your Traveler falls heavily onto the floor, rising to turn and watch Childe slowly descend to the arena. He reaches the floor, a gust of wind flinging pieces of the broken ceiling away and into the corners of the Golden House, you lean forwards expectantly and- The game crashes, pixels freezing and jolting unnaturally before shutting down with a small blip, your computer background staring back at you. The lights flicker and hastily you shut off your machine, suddenly acutely aware of how the wind howls outside and the rain beats against your window. A frown pulls at your lips, and you let out a melancholic sigh, staring vaguely outside in a halfhearted attempt to combat the return of your rather dreary mood. Foul Legacy was supposed to lift your spirits- at least for a little bit, enough to get you on your feet and complete a few tasks you’ve been putting off- but even that you’re unable to do properly, and you slump, hiding your face in your arms. Something flickers beyond the windowpane, bright enough to flash past your closed eyes and you start in surprise, squinting blearily outside. It’s pitch black, darkness falling quickly during winter, but you can still see the outlines of the windblown trees and woods beyond your house as something shining like a star dances between them. You stare, entranced, and the light flares once before dying to a low, faint glow. It’s steady but dim, and with your eyes still trained on the peculiar light you pick up your coat from a nearby table, slipping it on like a robot learning how to be human before darting downstairs. With a fling of the door and a hood over your head you run out into the night, snagged by an urgent, burning curiosity, or perhaps a desire for some distraction in your life, as you venture towards the odd glow like a moth drawn to a flame. Despite the cover of trees overhead, you’re still drenched after about five minutes of walking, face and hands smeared with dirt from pushing aside branches and leaves. Just then a particularly vengeful twig smacks you in the face, and you groan as you fling it aside, rubbing the bridge of your nose. You’re really beginning to regret coming out here, shooting a glare towards the faint light that lured you out of the comfort of your home and into the pouring rain, and despite the temptation of turning back, you press onwards out of spite. You seem to be over halfway there anyways, might as well keep going. It’s only a few more minutes before you’re nearly at the source of the mysterious light, and the irritation hanging around your head like a dark cloud dissipates, replaced by intrigue and nervous excitement as you jog closer, stumbling over stray roots that you can’t see. At last the light is at your feet, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes although it only glows dimly, and through the rain you can just barely make out the shape of a figure collapsed on the ground. The figure has horns, and one step closer sends you reeling back, eyes wide in shock and disbelief because the faint light you’ve been following surrounds a creature over twice your height, with a crimson mask and dark armor and cape-like wings dotted with tiny stars. It’s Childe, Foul Legacy, and your breath catches in your throat from panic as you hastily step back. You blink several times, sure you’re simply hallucinating, but Foul Legacy remains, looking real as ever, and instinctively you back away towards your distant house. You’re dreaming. You must be dreaming, because this can’t be real- Childe isn’t real. He’s from a game, and you’re vividly dreaming, that’s the only answer, because this is impossible. Then Childe’s eye opens and you freeze in your tracks. It’s the same color as his human form- deep, ocean blue- but it shines like a crystal, pearlescent surface seemingly filled with tears. Or perhaps it’s just the rain- you’re not sure if Foul Legacy can even cry in the first place. Childe looks dazedly around before his gaze lands on you, and you stiffen, every nerve in your body screaming to turn and run, game character or not. But Childe simply reaches towards you, claws twitching from cold and fear, and whimpers, your heart breaking at the sound. He whines pleadingly when you refuse to approach, desperately trying to grasp you before falling back in a dead faint, the faint glow fading further. You stand still as stone, the annoyance of having rain soaked into your hair and clothes gone, hands squeezing the edge of your coat in a vice grip as you stare at the unconscious Foul Legacy. Quietly you walk over and kneel beside him, mind going a mile a minute. Thickly you swallow, blinking away the tears that sprang at the corners of your eyes when you heard the pain and terror in his voice, and you roughly scrub at your cheeks. This is so dangerous- How stupid can you be, anyone smart would go home and pretend they never saw anything. But you can’t just leave him here, and as you glance back down at Childe your teeth begin gnawing at your tongue. Curse you and your soft, silly heart. Childe’s lighter than you expect, even in Foul Legacy, and with hands unsure of themselves you’re able to lift him onto your back and begin the trek home, raindrops slipping between the trees and filling your muddy footprints to guide you home. Hurriedly you run to your room to retrieve blankets, almost slipping on the wet floor in your haste to return and toss them over Childe’s form. You can hear him breathing, see the slow rise and fall of his chest, and in relief you slide to sit on the ground, idly squeezing water out of your sopping shirt. Your phone dings from its place on the table and you squint at the message from your friend, something about Childe’s boss fight glitching and people not being able to fight more than a few seconds before it crashes. Foul Legacy shivers in his sleep, and you look from the message to him, hesitantly extending your hand and brushing your fingers against his face. It feels so real- hard and tough like bone, and suddenly Childe lets out a sweet, coo-like noise and leans into your touch. You snatch your hand away, and he whimpers pitifully at the loss of your warmth and presence as you start pacing around the room, glancing nervously at your “guest” every now and then. With a shaky exhale you stride to the kitchen to fetch water and calm your nerves, the growing pit in your stomach slowly eating away at your wellbeing. Childe lets out a yawn when you return, eye cracking open and looking blearily around the room, and almost immediately you press yourself against the wall, glass of water almost shattering from how tightly you hold it. His eye widens when he sees you, a chirp slipping from his maw as he stumbles from the couch and falls to the floor with a yelp, too weak to support himself, and your apprehension vanishes as you rush to support him. With gentle reassurance you help him back onto the couch and perch yourself next to him, sitting stiffly on the edge of the cushions as Childe watches you piercingly. Suddenly he leans forward and bumps his forehead against your shoulder, trilling and crooning softly and moving to wrap you in his arms. Your hands spring up to shield yourself and find themselves buried in damp but fluffy hair, Childe tilting his head as if trying to nudge your hands into certain positions. When you tentatively scratch behind his horn you swear Childe melts, and his purrs fill the room. You’re confused- so, so confused at how Childe acts like he’s known you all his life, acts like you’ve been friends forever, acts like he adores you, when he should be nothing more than a handful of pixels on your computer, and you frown. Foul Legacy whines at your conflicted expression, pressing his cheek against yours insistently to bring back your smile, even just barely. For a few moments you indulge and allow yourself to stroke his soft fur, listening to his delighted clicks and trills and watching him snuggle himself happily into your lap before you sigh for the umpteenth time that night. “I should find somewhere for you…” Childe lets out a screech, shooting up from his place on your legs and whimpering, almost crying at your words, and you hastily wave your hands. “It’s not that I don’t want you here! It’s just…” You trail off, gaze lingering at your hands, downcast. You can’t bring yourself to say the words that go through your head- Why would he want to stay here? You can’t even take care of yourself. He deserves somewhere better, somewhere more comfortable, someone more put together and actually able to help him find a way back to wherever he needs to go. Someone other than you. Talons gently cup your cheek, thumbs gently swiping over your skin as Childe croons. His rumbles calm your racing heart, so it’s not twisting painfully in your chest, and he gives your face a small lick, chittering happily when it draws a faint smile from you. He bunches up the blankets on the couch, Abyssal instinct telling him to make somewhere soft and safe, and with you in his arms Childe burrows into the newly crafted nest with a purr. Don’t you understand? It’s always been you, ever since you first set foot in his domain and gave him a chance to wake up, to live. You’re what fills his heart with warmth, fighting day after day in his gilded, golden cage, until he could finally break free and see you. Sometimes, on the days he could see you were sad, he wanted nothing more than to sweep you into a hug and simply hold you, tell you everything would be alright, but he was merely a puppet to the program. But now he’s free, and there’s so much lost time to be made up for. He can help around the house- help keep you safe, keep you company! Anything you want him to do, just please, please let him stay here, where you are. But truly, you never wanted him to leave, and you feel your eyes grow damp with relief. Childe feels you exhale, more relaxed than you’ve ever been, and your hands trail up to find purchase in his hair once again, massaging gently. His fur grows even fluffier, if that’s even possible, wings shivering from the force and volume of his purrs as he chases your hands to nuzzle his face into, like a very affectionate cat. He slumps over onto your stomach, crooning drowsily at the warmth before craning his head to look you in the eye, your face heating up at how much love he stares at you with as he mumbles in low, growling tones that haven’t been used since he clawed his way out from a gash in the earth. “Hello… how are you?”

[artsekey]

Procreate Dreams

I've been playing around in Procreate Dreams for about a week or so now, and I think I've got enough of a handle on the software to offer a fair review! If you're interested in hearing my thoughts, click the read-more below.

A little context before we get started; I have two degrees in animation, but they're both in 3D. My personal specialty is tech and articulation/rigging, but I think my background puts me in a unique position with Procreate Dreams; I know all of the theory behind animation, but I'm not going into Procreate Dreams and comparing it to a professional-grade software I generally prefer to use (like Toon Boom Harmony, for example).

So, let's get into it!

First Impressions

I hated it. I opened the software, it crashed. I couldn't figure out how to enable onion skins. I couldn't increase or decrease the exposure of my frames. I couldn't figure out how to swap to the eraser. I was confused, I was frustrated, and then I realized that I was expecting to jump in and animate without taking the time to learn the software first.

Once I stopped trying to strong-arm it and started looking up documentation, things got a little easier.

Re-Thinking My Approach

Procreate Dreams isn't comparable to any other animation software I've used before. The UI is different, there's a focus on gesture over buttons, and everything about it is meant to be minimalistic. None of this reflects poorly on the program, in my opinion. It's different. You can't go to Procreate Dreams and get mad at it for not being like the other software out there in terms of how it's used. In fact, I think one area of Dreams that should be applauded is the sheer ambition on display. It's a hybrid of traditional frame-by-frame animation and offers a slimmed down version of some of After Effects' most useful compositing & motion graphics tools. That's just plain cool.

The Good

For those of you who've used Procreate Dreams, you may find it's a little... difficult to see all the good it has to offer through the muddied waters it's launch-day bugs kicked up, but under all the grime, there's a little bit of gold.

Dreams is a one time, $20 USD purchase. That's huge in terms of affordability and accessibility in the software market right now.

The "Perform" option is great, and I think we'll see the longer that it's out, the more creative people are going to get in using it. I've already seen people create gorgeous parallax on their illustrations.

Simple compatibility with Procreate is a huge win. I'm finding my pipeline uses both software together.

The UI is a mixed bag overall, but I find the ability to move between flipnote mode and timeline mode to be great. It keeps the screen free, but I can still access the features I need while doing frame-by-frame.

The move/filters option is a great way to add a little compositing magic to your work.

The Bad

The "bad" here exclusively covers issues with the software as intended. Bugs will be covered under "The Ugly" below.

The lack of a lasso tool is a huge setback. I've seen people saying that it doesn't make sense not to have that feature at launch, especially when it's part of Procreate, but I understand why it may have been difficult to implement in conjunction with the move/perform/warp options. If you save a warp on top of an illustration, then cut and move part of the drawing, how is the warp/local translation data applied to that image? Does the pixel remember it's movement, or is it applied on top of the drawing? There's a lot to consider.

Similarly, the "reference" tool in Procreate would be an excellent tool to add color to layers beneath current layers. "Add Reference Track" would be great! That said, I think this conflicts with the move/warp tools like the above.

The timeline is a time sink. I should be able to adjust the exposure of my frames easily and consistently. As of right now, I have an 80-20 shot of selecting my layer or grabbing the handle for exposure. A small button on the edge of each frame (like a dot) would improve this considerably.

As far as I can tell, you can't mask a group onto another group.

No double-tap on the Apple Pencil 2 to swap to the eraser. This one I'm not sure about; it runs in Procreate, it seems simple to implement here... though it'd be great to see it customizable.

The Ugly

This includes bugs and other issues that are separate from the features (or lack thereof) of Procreate Dreams.

Crashes are frequent. I haven't used the software reliably during any of my sessions so far, but Dreams' autosave feature is extremely strong and very forgiving, so I have lost no work.

My pen pressure become erratic at times, necessitating a restart of the software.

Sometimes my pen will stop working, though other features in the app will continue to run.

The good news is, I think that Dreams is overall a huge win for artists and animators worldwide. Everything that's not working about Dreams will hopefully be resolved in future updates. I'd encourage anyone who wants to try animating for the first time to pick it up-- with the understanding it might take some time to get used to/master.

[seraphimslum]

edenfall launch! an angel and her darling eldritch approaches...

hello fellow rotten angels! welcome, once again, to the slums… this time, though, instead of playing as that deranged angel ezekiel, you'll be inhabiting eden, the eldritch within ezekiel that loves her… a little too much.

edenfall is brought to you by a few familiar faces: josh carlat leads the game's development once again, carefully creating those crash screens and creepy text we know all too well. lorraine wong brings to you the liminal soundtrack and the slum's incomprehensible echoes. lauren kong reprises her role as ezekiel, giddy and manic and loving. juicydev ensures the eerie writing and gameplay hits just the right note, like a perfectly brewed cup of grass tea. our anonymous artist returns with their renaissance-esque renderings of the slum's angels, gorgeous and haunting. we're joined by clockworkjoker, who illustrates the slum angel's sprites with the twist of their personal style, and binaryheartgames, who delivers eden's slum devourings with green verve. and of course, i return with directing and writing this next instalment of ezekiel (and eden's) descent into the slums.

i am excited to present you with day 1 to day 4 (with a sprinkling of day 5) of edenfall. although edenfall is not complete, as the full game is intended to be 7 days long, we intend on finishing the game around june 2024 and have a steam released planned in the near future: do look out for that!

if you love the seraphim slum universe, do consider supporting us with a donation when downloading the game: your support helps us pay for the $100 steam release fee and helps us continue developing games.

thank you for reading, and we hope you enjoy your descent into the slums - as the eldritch-thing eden this time.

signing off, rosesrot

[junkyardisles]

emulation sources

roms megathread (ssa wii u internet archive download) (may require cdecrypt if not downloading roms through usbhelper) dolphin wiki + download rpcs3 wiki + download cemu wiki + download zadig (if using a real portal. i know dolphin and rpcs3 have portal emulation, unsure with cemu) prototype builds: giants builds (useful info), ssa xpec builds, swap force build, superchargers build

will update if i get any more information. feel free to add anything additional info based on stuff i've toyed with (i don't know my specs): > you may need to allow a usb passthrough in dolphin, it's in the config > as stated on the wikis, cemu requires updating the usb input driver while dolphin requires zadig to have it changed to a libusb/winusb driver (either work about half the time. technology moment). the portal is under spyro porta. i recommend having separate portals for cemu and dolphin so you don't need to mess with drivers > i used vulkan graphics for cemu and default for dolphin. i'm not a tech guy though so just play with whatever works best ig i just use default settings. portal compatability guide > for dolphin gif making, i used 8x msaa anti aliasing and had the internal resolution as 1920x1080. for the most part it ran average on a half dead computer from 2015. i'd recommend 1280x720 w/ no or minimal anti aliasing though > ssa and giants' main gameplay both ran mostly fine with vbi skip on (though i haven't checked heroic challenges) with occasional drops to 12fps, only superchargers racing's first cup and parts of the second have been tested > never used rpcs3 and i don't know if citra can run skylanders games, until i learn more it'll be absent > swap force is pretty broken on cemu, lawl > ir sensors for dolphin will need to be configured if using something like an xbox controller, have relative input on so the cursor doesn't snap back to the middle > ssa and giants can lag often and being in the ruins starting from around the middle part of the game will be noticeably slower. co-op is very slow. cemu handles co-op great though and generally is pretty fast > if you wanna play online with a friend, get parsec > if not using the console's controller type, i'd recommend just using your own controls rather than setting them to whatever makes sense (like having the trigger be your primary instead of something like A w/ an xbox controller) > if the game lags hard enough your skylander might disconnect for a sec (only experienced in giants when recording with obs). pausing the game for a couple seconds if having lag usually fixes it > dolphin games run fine when being recorded w/ obs or streamed on discord. haven't checked cemu yet > cutscenes in dolphin always have a weird like. screen tearing? thing? as far as i know there's no way to fix it, but they play fine besides that > newer (experimental) versions of cemu seem to break with skylanders >if you're getting wii u roms from the internet archive you'll need to get cdecrypt. its newest release is super easy to use (drag the rom folder onto it and it'll do everything for you, thank god) >dolphin is the only emulator with freecam >superchargers racing was buggy on both computers i got it on. 2015 pc wouldn't launch it and my 2022 laptop disconnects the portal after every race, requiring the game to be restarted >cemu would crash after doing about two races (updated 31/8/2024. added another piece of info)