#this isn't like an attack at taylor or something

[jakeperalta]

I'm sorry I just cannot get over how BORING the eras tour book cover is. not only is it the same photo we've seen a million times as the tour movie poster but there's zero design elements to it?? I'd hoped that midnights + ttpd signalled taylor moving away from the recent album art trend of "just take a photo and leave it at that, who cares about incorporating the title or anything" but that's exactly what we're getting here 🥲 and it's even worse when it's a $40 coffee table book like those are meant to look good!!!!! bring back graphic designers we're in a pop culture crisis

[wouldvegonealongwiththerighteous]

Okay I wasn't gonna care but actually I have thoughts because there's nothing really wrong with what they're saying. They're just making a connection between eras. That's like saying Folklore and Evermore are sisters. Of course we know all these albums are written by one person. But they're just looking at each era individually as itself. Which might not be for everyone, but it is fun. It's not like they're saying "wow Taylor at 22 is Taylor at 16 but 6 years older". They're saying "Red is a further developed version of Fearless, sonically and thematically". They're talking about the albums through Taylor's portrayal and expression of them, not the actual person.

I just saw a tiktok comment that said “red taylor is basically just adult fearless taylor” not basically my friend. red taylor is literally adult fearless taylor, like, age-wise. what kind of observation is that

[sprnklersplashes]

I am going to say something that might piss people on this site off, and that is that the stabbing at a Taylor Swift themed event in Southport does not exist in a vacuum.

It exists in a world where a joke about bringing a nail gun to the Eras tour to shoot fans gets 400k likes on TikTok, or where a reel about crashing a plane full of Swifties gets 200k likes on Instagram. It exists in a world where, on this very website, the one that promotes itself as rational and reasonable, someone says that "Taylor Swift and her fans should all die violent horrible deaths" and people applauded it. It exists in a world where, during TTPD release week men were in Swifties' comment sections declaring they would beat their daughters and girlfriends if they ever so much as listened to one of her albums. And it exists in a world where this week, fans of a TV show (which I will not name because that is not the point) sent death threats to a girl on Twitter for daring to be a fan of both their beloved show and Taylor Swift.

I don't give a fuck what your opinion of Taylor Swift is. I don't care if you think her music is grating, I don't care if you think she is the worst thing to happen to humanity since Eve ate the god damn apple. This is the dark side of stan culture that no-one talks about; where dislike of an artist becomes so obsessive that it becomes normal, even funny, to joke about killing their fans, because "it's just online, it's just a joke". It isn't. It is rarely ever "just online".

And yes I am going to be That Person and say that you can complain about Swift's brand of feminism and debate her position as a feminist icon all day long, at the end of the day, her name is still synonymous with girls. It doesn't take a genius to work out who this event was geared at.

I am not going to sit and claim that by simply not liking Taylor Swift you directly caused this. I would encourage you to step back, look at the bigger picture of stan culture, including obsessive dislike of an artist, and ask yourself how much this culture has enabled this. If making jokes on tiktok about killing someone over a pop star is normalised, how much of a leap is it to attacking kids with a knife at a fan event?

and of course there is the fact that the british media didn't even wait until those kids were buried before using this event to spread their racist, anti-immigrant agenda despite the race of the attacker not being known. all I can say to that is I am sickened and disappointed but not shocked.

[gorgeys]

foragers ★ jackie taylor x fem!reader

you force jackie to go foraging with you and she decides to make the most out of your alone time

warnings: SMUT - dry humping, knee thing, biting, making out word count: 1400

"so...what are we doing out here again?" jackie groans from behind you, mindlessly following you deeper into the woods.

you sigh out of frustration, your eyes still fixed to the ground, looking for plants that might be edible.  you had explained this to her about a hundred times already.

"we're foraging," you say pointedly, crouching down to take a closer look at a random plant.

"oh, we're foraging," jackie mocks, raising her hands in faux surrender though your attention isn't anywhere near her.  "my bad," she says with a teasing laugh.

"can you be serious, for like, two seconds, jackie?" you ask, peeking over your shoulder at her. your face is the picture of irritation.

"um, no," she says, reaching down and tucking your hair behind your ear.  her hand affectionately holds the back of your neck.  "what's the point of this anyway?  we've been out here for hours and barely found anything."

her thumb soothingly strokes your skin, and you can't deny that it makes you feel a little more at ease.

"it doesn't matter.  we just need to put in the effort and show that we're contributing in some way," you say.

to jackie, sounds are coming out of your mouth, but she's more focused on the way your lips seem to move in slow-motion and the precious way you look up at her through fluttering eyelashes.

"the longer we're stuck here, the crazier everyone's gonna get.  we need to make sure we have some sort of role to play so no one has a reason to..."

"to what?  get rid of us?  kill us?  i think you're starting to go a little crazy," jackie says with that carefree smile of hers.

"yeah, maybe," you say, standing up to meet jackie face-to-face.  her hand still lingers on the back of your neck.  "but foraging is easy enough."

you weakly smile at her, but she can see the stress written between your brows.  you've been on edge since the plane crash, always worrying about something.  even though you tried your best to hide it, jackie could tell.

"why don't you just relax a little, huh?" she says, both her hands now finding your neck.  they trail downward, softly tracing over your collarbone, then your shoulders, then your sides.  there's an unmistakable excitement in her eyes.

"jackie," you warn, just before she grabs your hips and pulls you into her, eliciting a soft grunt from the back of your throat.  it only motivates her more.

"lemme help you relax," she says with a lopsided grin.

her hips push into yours as she turns you slightly and guides you backwards.  after nearly stumbling over a fallen branch, your back hits a tree trunk with a thump.

without another thought, jackie's lips attack your neck.  her lips eagerly kiss and suck on your fragile skin, leaving trails of saliva in their wake.  she felt you like this in weeks, so she's more desperate and sloppy than usual.  she wants to consume as much of you as she can, as quickly as you'll let her.

"jackie, someone could see," you say, sounding whinier than you intended, your hands tangling in her bouncy hair like second nature.

"we've been walking for hours, no one's out here," she reassures you, her rapsy voice barely above a whisper.  her fingers start to creep under your shirt, a cool contrast to your warm skin.   "besides, i haven't had you like this in forever," she groans.

she suddenly bites down on the column of your throat, causing you to hiss in response.

"jackie!"  her name leaves your lips, something between a reprimand and a moan, as you throw your head back against the tree.  "marks?"  it had always been something you guys were careful of back home.

"you're so whiny," she mumbles, and you can feel her smiling into your neck.  she loves it.  "forget about everyone else.  you can tell 'em we got attacked by a deer or something."

she bites down in a different spot, and you're about to protest, but her knee finds its way in between your legs and the words die in your throat.  jackie notices and looks up from your neck.  she can see the worries starting to fall from your face, replaced by pleasure.

jackie's hands find your bare back just above your waist.  she pulls you into her while slowly grinding her knee against the crotch of your jeans.  pride immediately washes over her as your mouth falls open and each breath becomes heavier than the last.

"that feels good, doesn't it?" she says, lips ghosting over yours.  she doesn't give you time to respond before she's repeating the same motion.

"mhm, feels good," you say, voice slightly higher pitch.  usually it would take a little more friction and a lot less layers to get you panting like this, but you've been so touch-starved since the crash that you're practically moaning every time jackie even grazes you.

your hands leave jackie's hair and grab her by the jacket to pull her into a needy kiss, tugging her so hard that one of her hands leaves your back to brace herself against the tree.  seeing you with a fistful of her varsity jacket drives her absolutely insane and you know it.  she sucks on your bottom lip hard enough to bruise and pushes her tongue into your mouth.

"jackie," you moan against her lips.  your hips are now working with her knee, trying to produce as much friction as possible.  "you're doing so good," you say, knowing she's a sucker for praise.

she feels herself throb in her cargo shorts, so hard that a quiet moan sneaks past her lips.

"fuck, i missed you," she curses, hand moving up your back under your shirt.  "wanna make you cum so bad."

you whimper at her words, starting to rut yourself against her leg even faster than before.  jackie helps you by pressing her knee even harder into your clothed cunt.  she feels like she's on fire watching how desperate you are to reach your release.  how desperate you are for her to help you get there.

"shit, m'gonna," you warn her after an embarrassingly short amount of time.  your grip tightens on her jacket.

"let go for me," she says, holding your face in her hand so that you can't run from her eye contact.  "please," she begs.  "i need it."  that does it.

"oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, don't stop," you moan, hips bucking into her knee one last time before you're arching and cumming in your panties.

she keeps grinding her knee into you, face beaming with satisfaction as she watches that familiar expression find your face.  she couldn't get enough of it, no matter how many times the two of you had done this.  her ego would be unbearable for the rest of the day knowing she was the one who made you feel like this.

only when you came down from your high did jackie stop.  before she could say anything, you found her lips in a long, gentler kiss.  when you pulled away, her eyes were still squeezed shut and her lips were attempting to follow yours.  you couldn't help but smile: she was just too cute.

once her eyes opened, she looked back at you with so much adoration.

"how was that?" she asked, slightly out of breath, though she already knew the answer.

"i needed that," you say, hand coming up to cradle her face.  she leaned into your touch.  "i missed you too."

she looks absolutely giddy to hear you say that, so much so that she leans in and gives your lips a quick peck.

"wasn't that so much better than looking for berries or whatever?" she asks, hands holding your waist.

"yeah, but we need to find something before we go back so we can at least pretend that we were productive," you say, thumb caressing her cheek.

"hey!  i considered that very productive, actually," she says with that smug, suggestive smirk of hers.

"i don't know if they will, though.  especially when they see these," you say, gesturing to your neck where a few bruises are beginning to form.

"sorry, i got excited," she shrugs, though she doesn't look very sorry.  nevertheless, she leans down and places a kiss on each bruise.  "you're too cute not to eat."

"yeah, yeah," you smile, playfully pushing her off of you.  "you can apologize by finding us some berries before sundown.  preferably ones that won't kill us."

[lakesbian]

nobody move. i've just successfully articulated the sentiment that taylor's power turns her into a panopticon because she was living in one & explained her trigger in a way i feel satisfied with for the first time in my life

the concept of the panopticon is not just about surveillance, but about creating an environment where people cannot be sure whether or not they are being surveilled, and thus must constantly act under the assumption that they are. which is exactly what happened to taylor--we see from when we first meet her in the school that she's anticipating attack from every possible direction to avoid it, and the one time she lets her guard down a fraction and assumes she's found a safe spot to hide from abuse, she's targeted with the juice spills. and this is after her trigger event, but it's clear she behaves this way because it was beaten into her over the entire course of the bullying. it's what she describes when she recounts the trigger:

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized.  ...  Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending.  I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it. “And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing.  They were leaving me alone.  I was able to relax.” I sighed, “That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I knew, instinctually, that they were playing me, that they were waiting before they pulled their next stunt, so it had more impact. I didn’t think they’d be so patient about it. I went to my locker, and well, they’d obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they’d piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.”

the precise moment when she stopped consciously anticipating and preparing to react to abuse--when she relaxed, when she stopped acting as if the lack of danger didn't mean that she couldn't still be hurt at any time--is when she was brutally reminded that she's never safe. she's still in the panopticon. she isn't literally being watched every second, she isn't literally in lifelong danger of having her vulnerabilities exploited, but it feels like she is. she can never ever be sure she's safe.

so she triggers, and she gets a power that turns her into a panopticon, and lets her watch everyone right back. it lets her regain control by turning her into a source of danger that could attack anywhere, from any direction, any time, fully unexpected.

& the reason her power enables her to watch Everyone--not just a single person, or a few people--but Everyone, is that the other major aspect of her trigger is the trauma of facts like this:

“It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, someone grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.”

"All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out."

for months, for years, she was in a community where everyone regularly witnessed her humiliation and abuse, and everyone, dozens and dozens of kids and teachers, either contributed to it or was knowingly, silently complacent. this is what sticks with her: the idea that she is so universally reviled, so deserving of revile, that any crowd of witnesses would, without hesitation, consign her to the filth of the locker.

what else is she supposed to conclude, but that everyone she interacts with is a threat? that she can't drop her guard ever again, because no one will be coming to help her if she does? of course she has to become the panopticon. of course she has to watch everyone, all of the time, if she wants to stop it from happening again. of course she has to live among the teeming lowly and crawling things she has been taught via one firm shove that she is worth less than, and of course she has to use them to watch everyone back. and it would be inaccurate to say that doing this--monitoring everything with her bugs--makes her feel safe. all it does is allow her to remain in a constant state of paranoia and traumatized hyper-vigilance more efficiently.

[celaenaeiln]

I literally can't take it anymore. I need to get this out of my system. This is a hate-rant about why almost every single thing Tom Taylor has written is wrong.

First and foremost is the bimbofication of Dick Grayson. Tom Taylor loves to write him like this idiot who doesn't think at all. Being cheerful does not mean being dumb.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"You seem unusually contemplative"? All Dick does is contemplate!

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

His mind is always running!

Nightwing (2011) Issue #13

Nightwing (2016) Issue #38

I just picked a random issue from all of these comics and in every single one of these, Dick's planning, thinking, and strategising constantly.

Tom Taylor literally treats him like he's stupid or something.

Also the degradation of his abilities

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

A vigilante for 20 years. Who has faced assassins, hitmen, psychos, surprise attacks, metas, and you're telling me he didn't know that a untrained kid snuck up and stole from him?

He forgot who he was, he didn't forget where he lived! Even when he was Ric Grayson, Dick had procedural memory. His battle instincts stayed with him.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #52

"Then...I didn't even know what I was doing. I took him down--took him apart in seconds."

This man is a vigilante machine when he was amnesic. Why the heck would Dick ever let his guard down?

His robin reference

Nightwing (2016) Issue #92

Even Bruce in Batman: Hush has said it-Dick was the best. His skills were the best of anyone he's witnessed which is one of the reasons why Bruce let him be Robin in the first place.

This scene is so wrong that there's a robin scene that came out before this in direct opposition of this Tom Taylor Shitshow.

Robin & Batman Issue #1

This was actually pre-robin. Bruce had him do a solo-trial run to see his skill before he made him Robin and this was the result. Compare that to Tom Taylor's scene and the result is humiliating. For Taylor.

Tom Taylor's version of trying to show that Dick loves the people comes off as him hating crime-fighting. RIP the whole Robin firing drama and Nightwing birth i guess.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"We could have avoided all of this if we'd just stayed in and eaten kibble."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

Dick would rather die than stop crime-fighting. After Blockbuster's first attempt, his life was hanging on by a thread and he still continued crime fighting.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #91

After Blockbuster blew up his apartment, this is the single-minded determination Dick had to continue crime-fighting. This is him at one of the worst lows of his life but he refused to give up but now? He has everything and Dick wants to ignore the murder of a child to stay inside and eat kibble which - what the heck? I know he's seen as a happy character but him finding dog-food desirable is too far!

Also the idiocy of which Tom Taylor had Barbara calling the cops in Bludhaven for a stolen wallet. Newsflash! This isn't her first rodeo here.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #81

vs

Nightwing (2016) Issue #24

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

Given how Dick's easily defeated enhanced metas and "very good" fighters, him falling down the stairs is a little to absolutely impossible to believe.

Another thing I love about Dick that Tom Taylor deciminates is his grace. Dick is the most graceful person in DC. His balance easily matches Selina's enhanced cat powers.

But yet. You have.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #83

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

yeah. okay.

Taylor's motorbike scenes of Dick make me so mad. The boy is a pro at crazy. It's one of his best traits because he does the wildest stunts and he pulls it off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #93

Nightwing (1996) Issue #86

He lands on his feet. He grabbed a villain mid-air, crashed into a window, and was perfectly fine. Actually no, he's not fine because he's worried about his bike's paint job.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #24

He just sailed over a whole crowd of people and started kicking butt like what he just did wasn't extraordinary - which for him is just another tuesday.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #95

yeah, tell 'er Dick.

He doesn't need someone to hold his bike.

One of the worst things in Taylor's run is how Blockbuster went down. It suddenly reminded me of Selina's stupid ideology which is why I think I got so ticked off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #96

Blockbusters' thugs loyalty to him isn't a make it or break it deal. He's one of strongest criminal organisations and the knowledge that he owns one of the worst prisons that he could easily put his underlings into would've instilled fear into his thugs, not freedom. Furthermore Blockbuster takes good care of his people that don't piss him off. He teamed up with Nightwing in the scarecrow era in Nightwing (2016) because someone was messing with his people. He's extremely intelligent and superstrong, and he's not just going to be brought down by the knowledge that he owns a prison. It's Bludhaven. If he didn't, then there would be something suspicious given that he runs the city. It's the way Taylor dumbs down Bludhaven's villains that gets to me. Imagine him writing Batman (2016). It's like saying, "yeah the Joker was just a little misguided but he found the right way again after a stern talking to by Batman."

Nightwing is a big name.

When Dick first came to Bludhaven, one of the police officers was like we don't want your crazy here or something. Also Bludhaven loves Nightwing. They want him.

So why is everyone pretending like they don't know who he is?

Nightwing (2016) Issue #90

The police, the citizens, the villains-all of them. Dick fought Brutale and beat the crap out of him way back in 1996 comic. He's a Bludhaven regular. Just because Dick forgot who he was doesn't mean anyone else forgot him. Amnesia doesn't work that way.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #54

A whole team of Nightwings were formed during Dick's amnesic period because of how badly he was needed and missed. It's almost like the Tom Taylor run is set in an alternate universe.

I ran out of image space but what the absolute fiddlesticks is up with Dick being scared to jump. It better be a manipulation tactic but at this point I think Tom Taylor doesn't even know that Dick is manipulative.

[mayasaurusss]

TRANSFEM VIRGIN JACKIE TAYLOR X READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Transfem virgin Jackie Taylor blurbs

Contains: transfem Jackie, smut, 1700 k words blurb.

A/N: I'm so sorry to have delayed this for so long anon😥. I promise that next time I'll do it quicker and also more explicit🙇‍♀️

It's not as explicit as my other recent Lucy nsfw blurb, but I hope you guys will enjoy it still!

P.s i know that's Rhiannon in the photo, just pretend it's Jackie alright?

Jackie who survived the wilderness, who has come out of it scarred and traumatized. She has seen death and famine, and her personality and mental health become severely affected. She is introverted, shy and her outgoing personality has been frozen under pain and nightmares.

But she pulls through, and manages to go to college like she had wanted. She thinks that she can make a new life for herself, but as it turns out, college life isn't what she is supposed to be: making friends is hard, exams are tough and her professors are just shitty people. After all she has been through, she doesn't think that she'll be able to have any friendship ever again, not like the one she had with Shauna, anyway.

She doesn't have any roommates until you show up. One day you just barge in her room, suitcase in hand and say "I'm your new roommate!". Truth to be told, as much as she wishes for a friend, Jackie would rather have some peace and quiet. That's what she says to herself anyway, until your company starts to grow on her. She didn't really understand how lonely she was. You guys start to spend your nights together, playing card games, chit chatting, watching movies on Netflix and so on. But slowly, something happens to Jackie's heart. Nothing major, of course, but she feels...weird. Why does her heart throb when she sees you? And what about the butterflies in her stomach? Why is she jealous when other guys and girls flirt with you? And why is she so damned angry at you for not realizing their intentions?

Maybe she is just envious or jealous, but the thought of other people trying to get in your pants makes her angry. For a while, she thinks she's being unreasonable: you are her first friend after the incident; of course she'd want to gatekeep your relationship. And after all, she seems only to attract people who will hurt her and who she will hurt. She distances herself from you, thinking that maybe "I'll be a bad influence, I should just leave them alone". But then one day, she makes a connection.

You have been gone to class for half of the day, leaving her alone inside your dorm room. She needs a little bit of space, and she has been stressed for a while.

She watches as two women grind against each other's bodies on her phone, their skin sweaty and their kisses passionate. One of them pulls out a strap and ties it to her hips, sinking it inside the other's. Jackie sits underneath her covers, stroking herself, curling her fingertips downward at the base, when a thought flashes inside her mind. "Wish we could do that..." and her brain immediatley swaps the bottom's face with yours, interchanging you between the dominating and the dominated. Her heart races, thoughts of you two on her bed, together, grinding against each other... and then kissing tenderly after all is done, giggling and falling asleep together. The feeling inside Jackie's heart is warm, so good that it makes her ache. And as she comes down from her high, she puts two and two together: she has already felt this way once, long ago in the cold of the wilderness, and recalls the pain of how she felt when she had-. Jackie stops and understands, an almost guttural "Fuck!" comes out of her throat.

And as if the situation is not bad enough, you come in a few minutes after her little panic attack. She's still naked underneath the covers, goosebumps travel along her skin when she sees you coming in. She makes an effort in justifying why she was naked underneath, "I just sleep this way when I'm hot, you know?" you make no remark on how it's november and her covers aren't warm enough to sleep under unless she wears something, but oh well.

Jackie who feels embarrassed to masturbate from then on. No matter how hard she tries, you're inside her mind, constantly. She tries to muffle her moans on her covers, stroking up and down her length with you sleeping soundly on your bed. You'd be horrified, she thinks, at the images she has of you in her mind: above her bouncing and with your hands at her throat, beneath her on all fours, cuddled in her arms while she moves from behind...

Jackie who has a hard time going to her lessons because no matter what she does, you just seem to not get out of her head. She needs you to have her in your arms, kissing her. Who has to go out of class early to take care of her little problem.

Jackie, who feels bad about masturbating with you in her mind, who feels dirty and unlovable as she does so, but she can't help it, her body can't help it. And all the while, a little voice tells her that "You're not good enough" and "They won't love you, How could they love you of all people? She didn't love you, he didn't love you; why should they? ".

Jackie who steals glances of you, imagining your hands on her chest, your lips on hers. Who yearns to kiss you so bad it hurts. Who has to go to the bathroom at least once per night whenever you two are spending time together. You don't know what she is doing, but shrug off your concerns.

Jackie who finally gets caught by you. You stand outside the doom room, listening to the sounds coming from the other side. Moans, groans, wet movements and little slips of your name here and there make it obvious to you what Jackie is doing. You slip inside the room, as slowly and quietly as possible, watching how Jackie is bucking up in her hand, hips chasing upwards the feeling. You smile, deciding to approach her with a simple "Hey" but your voice gives Jackie a small heart attack and she shouts, covering her body as best as she can, leaving her chest out in the open and her legs uncovered.

"How...how long have you been there?" she asks, blood freezing with shame and mind racing, trying to understand if you've heard her say your name. "Long enough to understand what's going on" you sit on the bed, too close for her liking, giving her a knowing smirk that she already knows the meaning of. "You were thinking about me, weren't you?" her body stops, missing heartbeats and air. She can feel tears prickling at her skin, but you quickly say to her "I-No Jackie, I liked it". From then on, you tell her how you wished to do the first step, but how you were always so scared that she might've not liked you, how you yearned for her lips on yours. The moment you two are done talking about your feelings, you all but leap into each other's arms.

Jackie who can't help but get hard almost instantly. She can feel blood traveling through her veins, pooling at her crotch, warming her skin and flesh. Who will have to clench her hand around her cock to ground herself, to avoid cumming just from kissing you. She will feel so good from just kissing you that a drop of cum falls from her slit, signaling just how full she is, ready to let all of her pleasure out.

Jackie who feels so incredibly good when you ignore her cock and press two fingers beneath her balls, mimicking fingering her. She's already so hard as it is, and your actions only serve to egg her on more.

Jackie whose hands are shaky as she undresses you, full of eagerness and craving every part of you. Who, as soon as your chest is naked, will plant wet open mouth kisses on any inch of your skin, feeling your muscles harden against her ministrations.

Jackie who will climb on you, cock pressed between your and her stomachs, grinding back and forth. Who will get off like that, grinding on your stomach. Who will spend her time under your crotch, head pressed in between your hips and the mattress. Who will feel euphoric and decide to not touch herself in any way.

Jackie who's cock throbs in need, tip and balls red as she desperately tries to hold it in, wanting only your hands on her.

Jackie who confesses, as you are about to push her length in, that she is a virgin. She sweats and apologizes, already ready for you to leave her hanging, but then lets out a loud gasp when she's finally stilled inside of you.

Jackie who trembles as you ride her into oblivion, hands shaky gripping with force at your sides, short of breath and eyes rolling backwards. She has never felt this way with anyone else, not Jeff nor Shauna, just with you. It's euphoric, it's amazing, and she doesn't wish you to stop anytime soon.

Jackie who has very low stamina but a super high libido. She'll release the precum already five minutes after you start to bounce on her, staining white the condom she wore, panting like she just crossed the line in a marathon run. You haven't even cummed yet, and as you're about to hop off of her, she grabs your hips again and mumbles incoherently, grinding you back against her as she starts to harden again.

Jackie who at one point, decides to move you and fuck you from above, fingers gripping the sheet near your head. She moves erratically, gasping and panting and moaning, her hips pushing into you at a speed you didn't even know she was capable of. Her cheeks are as red as a tomato, lips coming to settle on yours as she moves back and forth, back and forth.

Jackie who, when she cums, sees stars behind her eyelids and feels like she's about to faint.

Jackie who falls asleep almost immediatley between your arms, snoozing off with the knowledge that she has finally found someone to rely on.

[sunflowerdigs]

What if it's not Tommy's Baggage?

So i've seen a lot of speculation that the baggage that will get between Buck and Tommy is going to be Tommy's baggage with Gerrard. But think that may be a misdirection - I think it may be Buck's mustachioed baggage that intrudes into their relationship instead.

If the show wanted to make Tommy's hazing of Hen and Chim the central issue, it would have spent 8x01 reminding the audience of just how brutal Gerrard was back then in order to drive home why Tommy siding with him then isn't something Buck can overlook. Gerrard's racism and misogyny would be on more overt display and Tommy would likely be more wishy-washy about him. Instead, the show has emphasized Gerrard's authoritarianism (and diminished his actual bite as a villain) in order to set him up as a better enemy for Buck (and yes, we should talk about whether that's a good move or if it diminishes what Hen and Chim went through - just not in this meta). The point of Tommy is Buck's growth and Buck breaking up with someone who betrayed his friends is very similar to what happened with Taylor. The show may think of it as retreading old ground.

So, maybe instead we're about to dig into what happened in 7x04 and who Buck was really jealous of. The first few moments of the birthday scene tonight were a misdirection - the viewer was meant to think that Buck and Tommy were doing something together, only for Eddie to literally come to sit between them because the entire scene was actually all about him (and Buck and Christopher). And that's kind of the story of Buck and Tommy's elationship (it's almost a direct parallel to the first Buck and Tommy scene in 7x04 - Buck and Tommy were getting along after the tour and then, boom, in came Eddie).

The show may frame the baggage more around Buck's fear of abandonment and fear that he doesn't deserve the love he wants. Coming on the heels of his attacking Gerrard because he denigrated him verbally, that would make sense. But ever since 7x04, those issues have been tied to Eddie - they're why Buck couldn't face up to his feelings about him. So, I suspect Eddie will come into their fight somehow (I think that's also why, in the US Weekly interview, Oliver didn't mention Eddie as someone he would be leaning on during the dispute with Tommy. Heck, I think that's why Oliver talked about Buck leaning on other people rather than how he and Tommy specifically might work out a disagreement - because this disagreement isn't one that can be worked out. If Tommy isn't it, he isn't it (neat parallel to Eddie and Ana's relationship there)).

[pshbites]

the word zionist / zionism. 

To preface, these are my own thoughts and beliefs. I am not making this post to bash any writers on this platform because I believe enough of that is already happening. This post is rather being made to spread awareness of what I believe is going on.

The word Zionism in my own terms, if I were asked to describe it in front of people, would be the belief of the ethnic cleansing of Palestine and ridding Palestinians of their own home. If i were asked as a muslim to describe it, my answer would be different. The answer I would give would be the ethnic cleansing of palestine and ridding palestinians of their own home because they are muslims. In short, killing muslims in the benefit to ethnic cleansing. Now that the term has been defined I think most can agree why this term is so loaded, the term in itself has connotations to islamophobia and many muslim mutuals of mine agree that this term is heavy and loaded.

To accuse someone of being a zionist (someone who follows zionism) is a hefty statement and can be plausible if the correct evidence has been provided. That isn't the case from what I’ve seen though. Two of my close mutuals have been accused of being as such by other writers. Seeing as I am muslim and I believe, muslims more than anyone have more reason to believe who is and who is not a zionist, I decided to message them myself. 

This conversation ended rather quickly because I blocked the person, okwonyo, involved. To accuse a muslim of being a zionist is one thing, but to claim that “being muslim has nothing to do with this” is another. Calling people zionists is not something that can be brushed past so easily and the only evidence being that the person involved had a Lana Del Rey song as her fic title? To put it simply, it shows where your real activism lies and that is to villainize others for no reason.

I agree, supporting zionism is bad, I agree with that more than anyone. But to focus on such a miniscule detail when you claim to want better for palestine, well that defeats the whole purpose. If this writer and their mutuals claim that this is an act of zionism then let's open up a case. If having your fic title as a lana del rey song is equated to being a zionist, then writing for enhypen or any other kpop group makes you one as well.

According to this writer's logic, if writing any sort of fic related to a song by a zionist makes you one, then writing for kpop idols under zionist companies makes you just as bad. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. You cannot stream enhypen or other kpop groups if you claim that you can't separate art from the artist, well then your genre of kpop is gone as a whole along with other musicians you like such as ariana grande, taylor swift, the weekend, and billie eilish, to name some. 

My point here is that if you claim that you can't separate art from the artist, then hold that same candle to your own favs, kpop or otherwise. This was never about the lana del rey fic title but rather about the fact that your activism will only matter to you when you want to villainize someone for something. I have seen performative activism and this is a call out to ALL writers and not just one.

If you want to sit behind your screen and accuse zionism on someone, then go and use a genocide to paint them as a villain to your band of supporters, you are wasting time. Time is being wasted every second you do this to someone (surprisingly enough it didn't happen once) and instead if you claim that you care so much about Palestine then go out and do something about it. Like I said previously, go donate, attend rallies and protests, support your local mosques, boycott things that REALLY matter. If you would do these things rather than blindly attacking someone for no reason and accusing them of being part of such a disgusting group of people, you would be doing a lot more for palestine. 

If I were to be honest, all I see from fellow writers on this app is performative activism. I have grown up knowing the genocide occurring in palestine and I have always attended protests and donated funds for as long as I can remember. I am not saying that you are lacking if you don’t do these things, but to only bring up this genocide when you want to attack someone, that is the real issue. You cannot just add a link in your bio or pinned for the sake of your followers. If you are not constantly talking about or spreading awareness for this terrible genocide that’s been occurring since the 1940s then you are a part of the problem. 

This genocide does not only exist on your phones. To sit behind a screen and only talk about it then, it diminishes all the activism you have and liquifies you to what you are and that is a performative activist. Once again, performative activism has never been cute and if this genocide only exists in the bounds of trying to villainize others, then you are just as bad as the group you claim to be so far against. 

tagging some mutuals for exposure. @cupidhoons @ourhees @elysianiki @kairoot @suneng @hyuckworld @lqfiles @jayparked @selleprotection @fatalhoon @enhastars @coqhee @leeechin

[iinryer]

i made a post about s7 and s4 parallels… so obviously we have to do a s8 and s5 spreadsheet too :)

i’ll update this post as i update my list!

[ID under the cut for easier legibility than alt]

DISCLAIMER: this is for FUN. please don’t take this as anything other than me goofing around <3

—

[a three column spreadsheet with the labels "PLOT POINT", "SEASON 5", and "SEASON 8"]

An opening emergency that has Athena confronting something traumatic from her past and dealing with someone she arrested years ago, culminating in gunshots in a parking garage (?) with Bobby there (an antagonist gets their dick obliterated somewhere in this plot)

- S5: Jeffrey Hudson

- S8: Dennis Jenkins

Creatures are loose in LA where they are not supposed to be, and causing havoc

- S5: Zoo animals

- S8: Bees

Buck, Eddie, & Chris scene in the Diaz house where someone with the initials TK (that Buck met in relation to a helicopter, who kissed Buck in his kitchen after Eddie got hurt and then had to leave) who Buck is now dating is a guest. Eddie is having a bad time

- S5: Eddie cooks dinner, Taylor is a guest

- S8: Eddie throws a Zoom birthday party, Tommy is a guest

Hen and Eddie treat a cheerleader who gets hurt in an episode 4 with the word "home" in the title

- S5: 504 Home and Away

- S8: 804 No Place Like Home

The 118 team is fractured due to core team members leaving

- S5: Chim leaves, Eddie leaves, the 118 feels off

- Bobby is still out, the 118 under Gerrard feels wrong

A family member of the 118 has left the state to heal

- S5: Maddie runs to Boston

- S8: Chris is still in El Paso

Antagonist on the 118

- S5: Jonah

- S8: Gerrard

Characters from air control make an appearance due to a plane-related system failure

- S5: Blackout opening emergency causes air control to lose contact with a plane. 118 called in for panic/heart attacks

- S8: Plane collision opening emergency has air control on call helping Athena and Jem land the plane

People helping each other in the opening emergency with assistance from dispatch

- S5: Neighborhood getting power to the ventilator

- S8: Passengers on the flight keeping each other alive

The cause of the opening emergency disappears and isn't addressed or followed up on

- S5: The hacker group goes dark and is never identified

- S8: The bees? fly away?

Eddie connects with a father he meets because of a call, goes beyond the job description to try to help him do something good for his son

- S5: Mitchell and his son

- S8: The cheerleader and his dad

Discussions of postpartum and Madney parenthood

- S5: Jee

- S8: New Han baby

Buck asks his partner to move in after he has a strong emotional reaction and is battling over revealing something to them

- S5: Taylor

- S8: Tommy

Buck's relationship with someone who has the initialsTK who he met in relation to a helicopter and kissed him in his kitchen after Eddie got injured, ends while in Buck's loft

- S5: Taylor

- S8: Tommy

Eddie goes to someone for help after a period of being miserable and not letting himself heal

- S5: Therapy

- S8: Confession

Eddie lets himself feel joy

- S5: Returning to firefighting

- S8: Dancing for the sake of dancing

Eddie decides to leave the 118 after a period of internal turmoil in an effort to do right by Chris without consulting anyone in his support system in the midseason cliffhanger

- S5: Quitting Firefighting

- S8: Going to Texas

Unaddressed callbacks to previous NDEs

- S5: Man shot and buried alive, Buck and Eddie held at gunpoint

- S8: Hotshots stunt double hanging from the ladder, kid in a well

A parent is heartbroken about missing their kid's big milestones

- S5: Maddie and Jee

- S8: Eddie and Chris

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Cruel intentions | chapter twenty-six

summary: wake-up call for you and Tony.

warnings: mentions of depression & suicidal thoughts.

listen to: This is me trying - Taylor Swift (playlist here)

word count: 2.3 k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

You're jolted awake. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, but before you can process anything else, pain rips through you—sharp, electric, all-consuming. It surges like lightning through your body. For a moment, it's the only thing you know. It's the only thing that feels real.

The next thing you can remember—the eerie calm that came as your body began to let go. It was quiet, almost peaceful, so at odds with the panic you're feeling now. You aren't supposed to be alive. You aren't supposed to be here.

Heaving a deep breath, your body screaming as you catch a glimpse of someone from the corner of your eye. 

"I shouldn't be here," you protest, your throat hoarse and dry. It is the only thing you can think of; you didn't deserve to be here. 

Tony's eyes widen as he stares at you, stunned. You aren't supposed to be talking right now; the doctors said you weren't supposed to wake up. 

And then he hears you repeat it. 

"I shouldn't be here,"

Tony swallows hard, his throat dry as he watches you struggle for breath. His voice is barely a whisper.

"Did you… did you do this on purpose?"

It's the first thought that surfaces, the only one he can grasp as he stares at the cuts decorating your face. The question feels wrong the second it leaves his lips. For a moment, his mind betrays him. He doesn't see you like this—broken, battered, barely holding on. Instead, he sees you at ten, cheeks round, curled up in a bed that once seemed too big for you. The memory slams into him, unforgiving, and with it comes the guilt.

Because back then, he thought he was doing the right thing.

Now, he isn't sure of anything at all.

You furrow your eyebrows, forming the same lines on your forehead that appeared when you were just a baby in his arms. It twists something profound in his chest.

"What?" you ask, confused. It's obvious you were attacked—your body is a roadmap of proof that something tore into you. The very idea that you did this to yourself is absurd. 

But Tony doesn't look away. He stares, waiting, and slowly, understanding creeps in.

And you aren't sure.

It was you who chose to give Harry the time. It was you who went alone to Oscorp. It was you who didn't tell anyone what you were doing. You made the choice, knowing it could be the last thing you ever did.

And you had been ready. Ready to face the consequences of your actions, even if it meant—

"You're going to be moved to a facility in Europe," Tony says, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

Your stomach drops. "What?" you ask. "Dad, no."

"You need proper care. You need distance." His jaw tightens. "I'm not giving you a choice."

And everything seems like deja vu. You've been in the same spot before and replay it so many times in your head that it feels like you've lived it a thousand times. 

Anger sparks in your chest, hot and immediate, even if you feel weak. "So you get to decide again?" you snap. "After everything—"

"I can't watch you kill yourself," he interrupts, his voice suddenly loud. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides as if he's trying to hold himself together. "I know you're angry at me, you're so angry, but you're being self-destructive. I know a thing or two about that, and you have so much more to live for."

Tony is barely breathing, and for a moment, you recall his panic attacks.

"I just can't watch you do this to yourself," he says, and it sounds like he's breaking.

"I didn't do this to myself," you shoot back, but it lacks conviction.

Tony exhales sharply, shaking his head. "I found out what you were doing. Without my knowledge."

You go quiet. Of course, he did. He probably hacked your files—with Harvey's help, it wouldn't have been that hard. Overriding Happy's security might've taken them a couple of hours.

Then, a new thought settles in, cold and heavy.

"How long have I been here?"

Tony doesn't answer. You swallow hard, days probably. You wonder where Harry is. 

"Dad, there are people in danger. You have to—"

"No. No," he cuts you off, his voice rising. "Don't bring that into this. You were bleeding out. Do you understand me?" His breathing hitches. "I found you covered in blood, gashes so big I was scared to hold you."

"Dad—"

"You should have never been involved in this." His voice cracks. "It's all my fault."

A bitter laugh escapes him, but there's no humor—just regret.

"Iron Man. The Avengers. It was all a mistake," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "You should have never—"

He stops, and for the first time, a soft sob breaks through.

"Dad?"

"You shouldn't have lived like this," he whispers, his eyes red-rimmed, unfocused. "If I never became Iron Man… you wouldn't have gone down this path."

And suddenly, you see the guilt he's been carrying all these years. The weight of every battle, every decision, and every moment led to this. 

​​"You think this is just about Iron Man?" Your voice shakes, but it's not from weakness. It's from years of emotions you've swallowed down, years of being told no, pushed aside, and feeling like you were never enough. "You think this is just about me getting hurt or thrown to jail?"

Tony exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. "That's not—"

"You pulled me away," you cut in, fists clenching at your sides. "You decided for me. You didn't ask; you didn't let me have a say. You just—ripped it away like it was nothing."

"You were a kid," Tony argues. 

"I was your kid," you snap, your chest burning, "and I wanted to be like you."

Tony's expression falters, his breath hitching slightly.

"You didn't believe in me," you continue; it tastes like poison to say it, to finally hash it out. "You didn't think I could handle it, that I was strong enough, smart enough. You kept me away like I was something you were ashamed of, like I would shatter anything I touched even though you knew I was right. You didn't let me near, as if I would break myself too. But that's not who I am. That was never who I was."

Tony scrubs a hand down his face, looking away. "It wasn't about you not being good enough or that I questioned all of your decisions," he mutters. "I almost lost you; we almost lost you. It just showed me what I knew. Knowing exactly what this life does to people,"

You shake your head as you lie in bed, breathing harshly and looking away. "That wasn't your choice to make," you answer softly. 

"You think I don't know that? Do you think I don't replay it in my head every damn day? You're right—I made that call. I pulled you out. And yeah, I let you hate me for it because it was easier than watching you get hurt. Because I thought if you resented me enough, maybe you'd stop trying." 

You turn your head towards him and see him for the first time in what you believe was a while. Truly broken like when you first woke up years ago, there are no cuts or black eyes, but you see the deep purple bags under his eyes and the red-rimmed eyes. You see your dad again, swallowing hard, and you feel something twisting deep in your chest.

"I never stopped trying."

"I know," he says, his eyes weary. "And I hate that I made you feel like you had to do it alone. That I made you think that proving yourself meant going behind my back, taking on something like this without backup, without a damn plan." He shakes his head. "Do you know what it was like finding you like that? Seeing you—Jesus, kid, I thought you were dead."

For a second, he's not Iron Man or Tony Stark. He's your dad.

And for a moment, you're not angry anymore about not being an Avenger or someone who's trying to carry the weight of the guilt and resentment you felt. You're his kid, and for all your anger and resentment, it all goes away. 

"I was scared," you admit quietly, barely above a whisper. "I was so sure, so ready to face the consequences of my choices, but then I didn't know if I would make it." Your breath shakes. "And all I could think about was you, Pepper and Morgan."

Your voice doesn't let his name out of your mouth, and you're scared to say it. 

Tony presses his lips together, forcing himself not to break in front of you. "You shouldn't have had to go through that," he says. "I should've—God, I should've done better by you."

Silence stretches between you for a moment, thick and unspoken words settling in the space between you. Then, you see him move—just a step, barely noticeable, but enough. It's almost involuntary how your hand lifts, hovering in the space between you, hoping that he won't pull away this time.

And he doesn't.

Tony steps forward fully, his gaze steady, and he quickly grabs your hand, holding it tightly as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you again. His grip is firm but warm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he's memorizing the shape of your hand like he's making sure you're here. A shaky breath escapes you, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back brim at the edges of your vision. He sees them, and without hesitation, he closes the distance, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

It's such a simple thing.

And yet, it undoes you. The weight—the anger, the resentment, the exhaustion—melts away, dissolving into something lighter. The guilt still lingers, quiet and persistent, but you feel something else beneath it for the first time in a long time.

Safe in your father's arms.

Like you did when you were little, falling asleep to the hum of his voice. Like you did when Peter held you, when you didn't have to be strong, just had to be. You allow yourself to lean into it for the first time in forever.

And Tony holds on tighter

"If you want to do this," he says, his voice softer but no less firm, "then you're going to do it right. With the right tools, the right training, the right team."

Your throat tightens. "You're serious?" you ask, looking up.

Tony nods, his expression a mix of softness and steel. A faint, hardened smile tugs at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I've been trying to protect you by keeping you away. But maybe the only way to protect you is to support you." He swallows hard. "I won't stop you anymore. But if you're going to do this, you do it with me. With us."

Your breath catches. For the first time in a long time, something shifts.

Because he's not just letting you in.

He's finally seeing you.

"I don't want to do it alone," you admit, the words cracking slightly as they leave your lips.

Tony exhales, a breath so deep it's like he's been holding it in for years. "Then you won't."

And just like that, the space between you begins to close.

But there's still something there—something your heart refuses to forget.

"Peter—" His name gets caught in your throat as you force yourself to look up at your father. "Does he know?"

Tony shakes his head. "He hasn't answered his phone. I tried to reach him, but… I think he needs time."

You swallow hard. "Dad, I hurt him. I don't know if—"

"You don't have to worry about that right now," Tony interrupts gently. "You just have to heal."

"How long have I been here?"

"A week."

Your stomach drops—a week.

"And Harry?"

Tony's jaw tightens. "MIA. No sign of him."

Guilt sinks its claws into your chest. "Dad, this is my fault. I let him go because I thought—"

"I know what you thought," he says, voice softer now. "I know you meant well."

"I need to—"

"I know." His tone is firm, but there's understanding in his eyes. "But I already gave the police everything we know. They'll handle it. You have to rest before we even think about training again."

"Please, Y/N," he sighs, exhausted. "Let your father rest, just this once."

You hesitate. "Okay," you finally relent. "I'll try to sleep. Thank you… for everything, Dad."

Tony gives you a small, weary smile before leaving the room.

The moment he's gone, you move. Your body screams in protest, pain radiating from every inch of you, but you grit your teeth and push forward. You grab your phone and glance at the medical chart beside your bed.

Broken ribs. Deep lacerations on your back and abdomen.

Shit.

You really could've died.

But your mind isn't on your injuries.

It's on Peter. On the possibility that he isn't coming. He might be done with you after everything you put him through.

And then there's Harry.

You know him too well. Well enough to be sure that by now, he's already bribed the police, already gone underground, already taking more girls for his experiments.

The friend you thought you had is completely gone.

Your fingers tremble as you take your earpiece. 

"HAPPY?"

"Miss Stark," comes his steady and calm voice. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks," you say, trying to steady yourself as you watch the sun setting on the compound. "Do you have any news on Harry Osborn?"

"No, Miss. He's in complete blackout since you last saw him."

You clench your jaw. "He's probably in a bunker. Can you show me the last known locations? Maybe I can go through some points."

"And the police?"

"There's no evidence they're even looking for him."

Of course not.

You inhale sharply. "Great."

There's a pause before you steel yourself and ask, "HAPPY… what do I need to do to get out of here as soon as possible?"

"As soon as possible, Miss Stark?"

"Yes." Your grip tightens on the phone. "I have unfinished business."

***

author's note: it's been over two years and I'm forever grateful if you're still reading this!! We are just missing one more chapter and the Epilogue!

***

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll @hoetel-manager @pbeckn26 @novaspietro @s-we-e-t-t-ea @spideys-world @3louisee @lnmp89 @coffeeandcrimeshows @dreamsarecloserwithyou @danslamer-eternelle @mayleenicole5676 @teamspideyman @ang3liclov3ly @hannahferru @nctma15 @happypopcornprincess @msperfectrocks @poseylove @blair3lou @melodicheauxxo-writes @peterdarlingg

***

feedback is always welcomed

buy me a coffee? thank youuu

[ewingstan]

A few thoughts on interlude 17x:

After reading through Morrison's Animal Man and getting reminded of the formula of the classic Vertigo runs, it strikes me that the Major Malfunctions are a pretty great reproduction of the obscure joke teams like the Inferior Five or Great Lakes Avengers. The type that are largely meant to be light-hearted jokes about what the corners of a superhero world that don't get focused on would look like, and that keep getting pulled out of obscurity by "serious" comics to either 1) be slaughtered en masse to show how big a threat some new enemy is or 2) be some reflection on the humble origins of whatever then-obscure character was getting an artful revamp under the pen of a British invasion superstar writer. You even get the "this forgotten character is actually gay" trope.

This was perhaps not the best character archetype to use for the "poor cops just want the civilians to stop blaming them for everything" chapter. In a story where capes dominate all levels of power, it's odd to position all the civilians angry about that as bullies attacking the little birthday boys.

The whole "civilians just need to stop working against us" thing isn't coming out of nowhere, it appears to be an extension of Worm's thematic focus on the problems that come from various groups refusing to work together. It's not crazy for Ward to tackle a similar idea.

But there does seem to be a shift in meaning by having the characters in power be the ones expressing this. In Worm, that theme manifested in Taylor's frustration at how the systems that were supposed to protect her were instead either self-serving or incompetent. In Ward, it initially was aimed at villains dragging the standards of engagement down, and then later at the over-aggressive government of Shin, but is currently manifesting as heroes being frustrated at the ignorant squawking of the rabble.

I don't get the sense that wildbow is uncritically endorsing this position so much as trying to showcase why characters in positions of power adopt them. But in doing so, he does keep creating situations where civilians upset at law enforcement are either objectively wrong about the heroes’ role in things or being actively manipulated by shadowy villains.

At the same time, it's not like wildbow has ever taken the position that we should just sit back and let the authority figures work unimpeded. Withdrawal's story of the self-destructive spiral he was kept from escaping by the cops who kept returning him to his neglectful mother showcases this pretty well. Wildbow's disgust towards how parental rights are continually prioritized over children's needs has only gained more prominence in his stories, and it's certainly on full-display here. The idea that the cops were wrong to return a twelve year old child to their damaging household rather than let them figure out their own living situation—it'd be considered radical by most.

Bella's interlude showcases this too—the way the text takes seriously the discomfort or terror a child feels even in "normal" situations is something both admirable and distressingly rare. I appreciated it with the flashback to Natalie's childhood in Claw, and I appreciate it here.

But again, you then get this being used as the tragic backdrop for the heroes who just want to keep the peace again by stopping refugees from entering a country without going through official channels. We're getting beats on how capes shouldn't apologize for acting rashly when people are training guns on them. Withdrawal is firing riot suppressants into the crowd. What are we doing here.

[ngage2003]

I've talked a bit about how the Operator affects you mentally and how it affects you physically, but let us talk about the most amusing detail of it now.

Why does the power of friendship hurt part of this paranatural entity?

Well, as with a lot of things Marble Hornets, I think its for a kind of layered reason.

Ok lets start by refreshing on what the Operator actually does.

It infects people's minds sort of like an infohazard, something we see plainly with how Alex, Jay and Brian all got obsessed with it to some degree after they saw it. After that though, it slowly wears them down with its passive effects of anxiety and sickness until it can either lure them to it and/or corner them alone, us seeing the this many times. (Entry 64, Entry 72 and Entry 82 with Jay, though it got Tim that first time, and Entry 70 with Alex.)

At that point, it will finally attack its targets directly, inducing a seizure, after which it will more or less try to torture away pieces out of its victims, to tear away a part of their self to eat, something that leads into an increased level of paranoia, aggression and obsession, often culminating in more people being hurt and consequently taken by the Operator.

Note: The only person who seems immune to this is Tim, and we've talked about that before so I won't touch on it now.

Alrighty though, so, if thats how it attacks you, why does friendship scare it off?

Well, I think the reason the Operator attacks in such a convoluted way is because it needs to weaken someone's physical defenses to get to their mind. The two are intrinsically linked and once someone is disoriented, their shields are down. The Operator then can easily get what it wants, food, slipping under the skin without any trouble.

But humans are notorious for throwing all our fear away when we see another person in pain, we see this in Entry 72 with Tim and Jay, and again in Marble Hornets comic #4 with Jessica and Taylor. We are by nature pack animals through and through, and I don't think the Operator can really stand up against a direct attack, or at least it isn't guaranteed overpower one.

That is part of why it purposefully attacks people when they're alone! It wants people alone so it can wear them down without having to worry about someone fighting it for its meal. Yeah, the Operator is a predator, but it isn't really a pursuit hunter. It poisons people and then scavenges their bodies.

I think this line of thinking though is also why it takes dying people, as even though they're, well, dying, their defenses are also super lowered by that fact, and the Ark as we have seen can sustain people with mortal injuries presumably as long as their self is being fed on.

I don't know, interesting food for thought, and it provides some logic to why the Operator operates as it does.

[astraljedi]

Bewitched - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (Part 1)

Part 1.5 | Part 2 (coming soon)

Summary: After two years since they last saw each other, Bradley and Sadie cross paths again. What started as a heated rivalry turned into something more, only for Rooster to walk away, leaving Sadie with nothing but a voicemail. Now, assigned to the same mission, tension lingers between them.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female! OC

Warnings: Just some cursing and fighting. It will contain a lot of smut, angst, jealousy, mention of death, PTSD and panic attacks. It also contains spoilers for the Top Gun movies.

Word Count: 4.4k

Song: Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift / right where you left me by Taylor Swift

Author's note: This is a re-upload of an old fic/idea I posted months ago and rewrote. I've been diving back into writing and decided to write a few parts for this idea. If you have any requests for anyone in the dagger squad, request are always open! Also, this is pure fiction, this isn't going to be 100% accurate and it's just for fun. Enjoy!

-

Someday, when you leave me I bet these memories Follow you around

The tension in the room was suffocating. Sadie felt it when she walked in, but it wasn't from the mission.

It was him.

Bradley Bradshaw.

His gaze was on her, sharp and unreadable, and his jaw locked tight as Admiral Solomon introduced her as the leader. She refused to let her expression waver and acknowledged how her stomach twisted at the sight of him after all this time. Instead, she stood tall, arms folded behind her back, nodding once when Solomon finished speaking.

Her eyes flicked over the group. Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, and some familiar faces. But she kept coming back to him.

Bradley

She hadn't seen him since—

No.

Not now.

She shoved the thought away as Maverick stepped forward, taking over the briefing. He explained the flight drills, the schedule, and what was expected from them. Sadie barely heard him. She felt Bradley's stare like a weight pressing against her ribs.

She last heard his voice through the voicemail he left her two years ago.

"I can't, I—" his voice broke.

Sadie gripped her phone tighter, pressing it against her ear.

"I'm sorry, Sadie."

And then it cut off. No explanation. No closure.

Maverick's voice pulled her back.

"You all have ten minutes to gear up and meet me on the runway. That includes you, Captain Kazansky."

Sadie nodded, the movement sharp. She turned on her heel and headed for the lockers, blocking out the murmurs behind her. She could feel Bradley watching her go.

It wasn't until she was halfway into her flight gear that it hit her all at once.

The past.

The mission.

The accident.

Him.

Her fingers fumbled with the straps. Her breath came too fast, too shallow. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't stop them, no matter how hard she tried. 

The walls of the locker room blurred at the edges, narrowing into a tunnel.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

She braced herself against the bench, head lowering between her arms. She needed to breathe. 

She needed to focus.

But all she could hear was her plane screaming warnings at her—

"Low altitude. Low altitude."

She could feel the violent shake of the controls as she tried to regain control: the sharp snap of the eject handle beneath her fingers, the deafening rush of wind, the crack of her body hitting the ground, the suffocating weight of her helmet pressing against her skull, and the rotor wash of the recovery chopper.

And underneath it all—

"I'm sorry, Sadie."

The voicemail looped in her head like a cruel echo, like a broken record.

A hand landed gently on her shoulder, interrupting the voices in her head. "Sadie."

She jerked up, gasping, eyes wide. Maverick was crouched beside her, concern all over his face. Behind him, Coleman stood near the doorway, arms crossed, observing her.

"It's okay," Maverick said, voice low. "You're okay."

She wasn't.

Coleman exhaled. "You can't fly like this, Captain."

Maverick's hand cradled the side of her face, grounding her. "Watch from the ground. Just for today."

Sadie opened her mouth to argue, but Maverick shook his head.

Her jaw clenched, but she gave a slight nod after a moment.

Maverick pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I'll handle the others."

When they left, the silence was suffocating and lonely.

Sadie sat back down, pressing the rough skin of her palms into her eyes.

And then—

The past came rushing in.

Two Years Ago

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon when Sadie stepped onto the carrier's deck, the scent of salt and jet fuel thick in the air. She barely had a moment to process the rush of adrenaline still coursing through her before the roar of an approaching F/A-18 forced her to shield her eyes.

Rooster's jet.

Her grip on her helmet tightened. Rooster's wingman had already exited his aircraft, rolling his eyes—annoyed by the situation that could have been avoided.

Out there, the team had to work together. If they wanted to come home alive—and not in a casket—there was no room for mistakes.

She had flown many missions and led countless pilots, but something about this one had her blood running hot. Sadie was used to being undermined by men, used to the names they called her and the rumors that followed. But not once had someone outright disobeyed her orders during a mission.

He was infuriating.

She waited long enough for his wheels to hit the deck before turning sharply and heading toward him. The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, she was there.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw." Her voice was steady and clipped, but a sharp edge was beneath it.

Rooster barely spared her a glance as he pulled off his helmet. "Captain."

Sadie narrowed her eyes. She knew that tone—disinterested, almost dismissive, like she wasn't worth the respect of her rank like she was just some nepotistic baby-playing soldier.

She wasn't in the mood.

Sadie squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. He towered over her, all broad shoulders and cocky, but she didn't intimidate easily. His chest was puffed out—just like his ego.

"You left your wingman," she said, stepping closer. "You were given a direct order, and you ignored it."

Rooster exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp, sweaty hair. "I was covering you. You were caught too close to the enemy."

"I was baiting them," she snapped. "That's the point of the maneuver. When I give an order, it's because I know what I'm doing out there. I didn't need saving from you."

His jaw clenched. "That maneuver was reckless."

Sadie let out a humorless laugh. "Reckless?" She took another step toward him, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his flight suit. "You ignored a direct order and left your wingman vulnerable because you thought you knew better."

Rooster's eyes darkened, but he didn't back down. "You could've been shot down."

Sadie tilted her head, studying him. He wasn't entirely wrong—what she did was dangerous. But it was also calculated. Controlled. And it worked every time. She wouldn't pull that maneuver if it put her or, more importantly, her team at unnecessary risk.

"You don't know me, Lieutenant," she said finally, her voice quieter but no less sharp. "And you sure as hell don't know how to follow a simple order."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "I know your reputation."

There it was.

Sadie felt the slow burn of anger in her stomach, but she refused to let it show. Usually, comments like that rolled right off her. She didn't need to prove herself to men who already made up their minds about her. She knew what kind of leader and pilot she was. But something about this—about him—struck a nerve.

"You don't have to like me," she said simply. "But you will follow my orders, or I'll report you. Not just for disobeying a superior but for disrespecting me as a female pilot. If I were a man, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

Rooster's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he said nothing.

Sadie let the silence stretch, letting the weight of her words settle between them. Then, with a steady, unblinking gaze, she added, "You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

His jaw tensed. Sadie could see the fight in his eyes—the urge to argue, to push back. But he couldn't. Because she outranked him.

Rooster exhaled sharply through his nose before muttering, "Yes, ma'am."

They had an audience—of course, they did. She was constantly being watched, waiting for her to falter or overstep. But that wasn't going to happen. Sadie didn't break. She didn't have meltdowns—not like the men did.

Rooster turned away first, gripping his helmet as he stalked off the crowded tarmac. Sadie's gaze flicked to the group of men who had been staring. They quickly pretended to be busy.

She could write him up, but that would mean a lot of paperwork. And she already had enough to deal with, thanks to Rooster's hiccup of leaving his wingman alone.

…

Being on the aircraft carrier always felt like a buzz. Sadie was most alive when she was in the air with her jet. It was thrilling and euphoric. But there was something about being back at base that brought her peace.

She had her family, the new house she'd already moved into. A white corner-lot home with blue shutters, small but hers. But instead of spending the night there, she was going to the bar after a long day catching up on work.

The Hard Deck felt alive with the low hum of conversation mixing with the crack of pool cues and bursts of laughter while the jukebox hummed a rock' n' roll tune. The scent of sea salt and beer lingered in the air, the warm California night spilling through the open doors.

Sadie barely spared the crowd a glance as she stepped inside. She didn't need to—she felt their attention snap toward her the second she walked in. Part of it was her name, her reputation. The other part was the way she looked. There was no denying her effortless beauty. Light brown curls hung loose over her back, starkly contrasting the tight bun she always wore at the base.

As she passed the pool table, movement caught her eye. A group of lieutenants stood around the table, sticks in hand, easy banter flowing between them. 

Rooster was among them. She didn't acknowledge him.

Instead, she headed straight for the bar, spotting her friend Mia, a Navy medic, already waiting with a beer in hand.

"You're late," Mia teased, pushing the cold bottle toward her.

Sadie smirked, shrugging off her jacket as she slid onto the barstool. "Had to finish up reports. You know, actual work."

Mia scoffed. "Please. Like you weren't just busy terrorizing another group of pilots."

Sadie clinked her bottle against Mia's glass. "It's both a curse and a gift."

Behind them, Rooster stepped away from the pool table, offering to grab the next round for the group. He didn't have to stand near Sadie, but gravity pulled him there against his will. The bar wasn't packed like usual—he could've ordered from the other side.

But he didn't.

He placed his order and waited, close enough to hear Sadie laugh with her friend.

"It was horrible. The worst lay," she said, laughing as she sipped beer. "And then I had to go on a mission for months with that disappointment."

Mia nearly choked on her drink. "Please tell me you didn't let that man leave without knowing he couldn't fulfill."

"Trust me, I didn't. I told him he could fuck off." Of course, she had. Sadie Kazansky was opinionated and ensured people knew how the fucked up.

Mia cackled, shaking her head. "A good deed for the women's community."

"Karma better pay me back for my good deed soon, please."

"I have a feeling good karma is around the corner for you, babes," Mia said, sliding off the stool. "I gotta hit the bathroom. Be right back."

Rooster clenched his jaw, fingers flexing around his glass.

He wasn't sure why it bothered him—why the thought of her in bed with some guy who didn't know what the hell he was doing got under his skin—but it did.

He didn't know what possessed him to move, but he pushed off the bar, forgetting the round for the guys.

Rooster hovered close behind her, his broad chest brushing against her back as he leaned in, lips just by her ear.

"Is that why you're always cranky? No one can make you come?"

Sadie choked on her beer.

His grin was slow, lazy, dripping with amusement. "Save the choking for later, sweetheart."

She wiped her mouth, whipping her head around with wide eyes. "What the fuck, Bradshaw?"

"Cranky Kazansky," he mused, grabbing the round of beers. "It flows off the tongue so easily." He winked at her before turning away and walking toward the pool table.

He didn't need to look back—he could feel her eyes burning into him.

She didn't mean to. Didn't want to. 

But the way his arms flexed as he lined up his shot, the way his fingers curled around the wooden stick, steady and precise—it held her attention longer than she'd like to admit.

How would it feel to have those fingers—

Sadie cut off the thought the moment she felt the heat rise.

Then, Rooster caught her staring.

Mid-shot, he glanced up, his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. Slowly, he dragged his gaze over her summer dress, showing off her toned calves and thighs. His brain flooded with images of what it would be like to have his head buried between them.

The thought lingered as he went back to his game.

That should've been the end of it. She was his superior. They worked together.

Their thoughts alone weren't professional.

"I'm gonna call it a night. I'm getting too old to be out of my house after eleven," Mia yawned. "Want to ride-share?"

"No, I don't think I'm ready to call it a night." Mia gave her a look but hugged her goodbye anyway.

Sadie leaned against the bar, an almost empty beer bottle dangling from her fingers, waiting for the bartender to finish up with another customer. The young and eager bartender rushed toward her, handing her a fresh bottle with a grin that was too enthusiastic.

Rooster shouldn't care. He shouldn't feel anything about a guy flirting with her.

But the way she laughed at his probably terrible joke, the way she blushed when he refused to take her cash for the beer she shouldn't have been paying for in the first place—

Someone like Sadie shouldn't be wasting her time with inexperienced boys.

"Another game?" Coyote asked, lining up the colored balls on the green table.

Rooster tore his gaze away from Sadie and looked at Coyote instead.

"No, I'll give you a break so you can beat someone," Rooster teased before finishing his beer. 

He was about to offer to grab another round—maybe as an excuse to be near Sadie—but he saw her heading toward the bathroom.

"I'll be right back," he said.

Coyote, oblivious to where Rooster was looking, scoffed. "Sure, you're just lucky. I can beat you at this stupid game."

Rooster tossed his empty bottle into the trash and strode after Sadie. She didn't hear his approach over the music, but suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall in the dimly lit bathroom hallway. His palm braced the back of her head, protecting her from hitting the hard surface, while his other hand gripped her waist.

"Are you going home with him?" His voice was low, rough—more desperate than he intended.

Sadie's breath hitched, her eyes widening in shock at how quickly he had her pinned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The bartender." Rooster's grip on her waist tightened slightly. "Don't go with him."

Sadie stared at him, her lips slightly parted, but the bathroom door creaked open before she could speak. She shoved Rooster off, making him stumble back just as a drunk old man staggered out, barely sparing them a glance.

When he was out of sight, Sadie grabbed Rooster by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the small bathroom. She shoved him against the worn-out door, locking it in the process.

Rooster barely had time to react before she yanked him down into a messy, desperate kiss. She took control immediately, tugging his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders as their mouths warred against each other. His large hands settled on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Sadie moaned at the feel of him hardening against her through his jeans. He let her think she was in control—until she started unbuckling his belt. That was when he decided he'd had enough.

In one swift motion, he spun them around, pressing her back against the door before dropping to his knees. His hands skimmed up her thighs, pushing the skirt of her dress higher.

Then, with a flick of his fingers, he slid her underwear down and tossed it over his shoulder carelessly toward the sink.

Neither of them spoke. Their heavy breathing filled the small space, the air thick with anticipation.

Rooster hooked his hand under her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around his waist. Sadie leaned in, biting down on the skin of his neck, impatient, rushing him.

He let out a low groan, his grip tightening on her as he lined himself up at her entrance. His hand slid up to wrap gently around her throat, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Eager, are we, Captain?" he rasped, sliding into her.

Sadie parted her lips to retort, but her words never left her tongue. Instead, her head fell back against the door, pleasure crashing over her.

Rooster watched her—the way her head tilted back, lips parted in a silent gasp—the way her walls squeezed around him, and she wasn't even full of him yet. His grip on her thigh tightened as he thrust into her, slow at first, letting her adjust, savoring every second.

Sadie clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, desperate to ground herself. Fuck. Her breathless curse barely passed her lips as her hands tangled in his hair.

Rooster groaned, low and guttural like he hadn't expected this to feel so damn good. He'd told himself this would be a one-time thing, a way to fuck out the steam and tension between them. But the way she squirmed beneath him, the way their bodies moved together in sync—he knew it was going to take more than walking out of this bathroom to let her go.

And they had barely even started.

"Shit, Sadie," he muttered, his forehead dropping to hers as he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. He was holding back, trying to make the feeling last—for her, for him. 

He couldn't lose control. Not yet.

Sadie's breath hitched, her fingers slipping down to the open buttons of his Hawaiian shirt, fisting the fabric. "Harder," she pleaded, chasing the coil tightening inside her.

Rooster cursed under his breath, his restraint slipping, and obeyed, driving into her with more force. His hands gripped her like he was molding himself to her as if he wanted to carve this moment into his memory.

Sadie's head hit the door, lips parting in a sharp gasp. She wasn't quiet—he should've known she wouldn't be.

"Shh," Rooster hushed, his voice edged with amusement. "You don't want the whole bar knowing what I'm doing to you, do you?"

Sadie huffed a breathless laugh, her grip tightening around his shoulders. "Then show me how a man really fucks," she challenged, her voice dripping with defiance.

That was it. That was the moment he lost himself completely.

With a growl, Rooster lifted her higher, pressing her against the door. He felt her shudder, her fingers threading through his hair. Then her gaze flickered behind him, and he followed it—to the mirror on the wall, perfectly angled so she could see everything.

A wicked smirk spread across his face. "That's right," he murmured, voice rough, his lips brushing against her jaw. "Watch yourself while I fuck you."

Sadie whimpered, her nails digging into his back as the sight of them—of how perfectly they moved together—pushed her over the edge. She bit down on his shoulder, muffling the sound of her moan as she shattered around him.

"Bradshaw," she whimpered, breathless, and the way his name tumbled from her lips was all it took to send him spiraling after her. With a sharp curse, he buried himself deep, his forehead pressing against hers as the aftershocks ran through them both.

For a long second, neither of them moved. Their heavy breathing filled the small space, mixing with the low music hum and the bar's distant chatter beyond the door.

Rooster watched her—how her chest rose and fell, her hair clinging to her damp skin, the faint blush on her cheeks.

That was his doing.

Slowly, he eased back, his hands still firm on her waist, careful with her.

Sadie finally opened her eyes, glancing toward the door. Without a word, she smoothed down her dress, already putting herself back together. But when she caught her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks darkened further, and her lips curved slightly as she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Rooster hesitated, buttoning his jeans and tucking himself away. There was something in the air between them—something neither acknowledged.

He decided to keep it light. "Ladies first, Captain." He opened the door for her when she was ready.

Sadie shot him one last look, searching his face as if trying to read his thoughts, but she said nothing. Then, without another word, she slipped out.

Rooster leaned against the wall for a moment longer, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair. He turned toward the sink—and that's when he saw them.

Her lilac lace panties were neatly abandoned on the counter.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips. 

That's my sign.

He swiped them off the sink and stuffed them into his pocket before slipping out of the bathroom minutes later.

His eyes scanned the bar for her, but she was already gone.

"Hey, the guys are calling it a night. Are you good?" Coyote's voice broke his thoughts as he nodded toward Rooster's untouched drink.

Rooster blinked, then forced a smirk as he pulled out his wallet. "Yeah. Just tired."

He tossed some cash onto the bar and downed the last drops of his beer, but his fingers brushed against the lace in his pocket as he walked out into the night.

Yeah, he had a feeling this wasn't the last time.

Present

The locker room was empty. Bradley assumed everyone had gone back to their assigned living quarters. The dim overhead lights flickered and hummed, casting uneven shadows against the metal lockers. Rooster's jaw was tight, his flight suit half unzipped as he tore off his gear, muttering under his breath.

"Stupid. Fucking stupid," he hissed, barely registering his own voice. He was thrilled to be at TOPGUN, following in his father's footsteps, but he had to go and fuck everything up. He had to let his emotions slip earlier that day with Maverick. His fingers curled into a fist before he slammed it into the locker beside him. The sound cracked through the room, echoing off the walls.

A sharp inhale from across the room made him freeze.

He wasn't alone.

His eyes flicked up, breath still heavy, and landed on her.

Sadie stood on the other side of the room, her hand clutched to her chest like she had jumped at the sound. Her eyes were wide, guarded—but only for a split second. Then, just as quickly, her expression smoothed into something unreadable.

"Sorry, Captain," Rooster muttered, turning away, focusing on peeling off his flight suit like she wasn't there. Like she didn't matter.

Sadie exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. "What you and Maverick did up there was reckless."

He looked at her, debating if he had the energy to defend himself. She couldn't even begin to understand how Maverick had set him back.

"If you want to go to that assignment, you must keep your recklessness in check, Bradshaw. I can't have you flying if you can't control your emotions and put the rest of the team at risk."

Rooster let out a sharp laugh, humorless, bitter. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Sadie looked up from her zipped-up bag, her jaw clenched as her eyes locked onto his, filled with anger and—sadness?

"You don't understand what I've been through," he continued, voice rough, turning toward her now. "Especially with him. You don't know what it is to struggle, to grieve—"

"No, you don't know what I've gone through," Sadie cut in, her voice echoing through the locker room, her eyes still locked onto his. "And the weight I carry every single fucking day."

Something flickered in Rooster's expression, but she didn't stop. He hadn't seen her like this—not like before.

"You knew a version of me that no longer exists," she said, quiet but firm, slicing through him like a knife. "The person you're looking at is a version that doesn't have you in it."

Rooster's heart ached—it had never stopped, not since the moment he ended that voicemail years ago. He thought that at some point when they met again, she would have moved on. Maybe married and had a kid—a thought that haunted him for years. Deep inside, he hoped it hadn't come true.

He looked at her for the first time since she walked in. Really looked at her.

He had noticed it before when his eyes landed on her earlier that day. She looked different. She was still Sadie Kazansky—shoulders squared, confidence unwavering to the average person. But he had seen it, just for a second. A slip.

After he got grounded and did his push-ups for Coleman, he noticed her hands shaking. He sensed it. Something about her was different; he couldn't pin it down yet.

Rooster's lips parted, his hand aching to reach for her, but Sadie didn't give him a chance to respond. She grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and walked past him without another word.

The door swung shut behind her, leaving Rooster alone in the locker room—heart pounding, jaw clenched, and the weight of her words pressing against his chest like a vice.

A version that doesn't have you in it.

Sadie held her breath as she walked down the corridor toward her car. She left the base, desperate to get home—to her safe place—but the moment the wheels of her Jeep crossed the gate, her vision blurred with tears.

She swerved into her driveway, slammed the Jeep to a stop, and punched the wheel, her screams ripping through the silence.

All day, she had been holding it in. And being in that room alone with Rooster had nearly made her break. It nearly made her scream, letting everything out.

But he had made his choice.

He didn't want her in his life, and he made it clear when he left her stranded at the gala. 

And she wouldn't allow him to witness the broken version he left behind.

[s-awturn]

Us, again || CS55

summary: Abandoned in a strange country, with no money, friends or family and a positive pregnancy test, Y/N finds herself on the brink of unprecedented chaos. There is no one she can count on, except her ex best friend, who she didn't want to have to turn to.

cw: conflict, abandonment, crying crisis and mention of an anxiety attack. Old conflict, nostalgia, separation, problem solving, relationship to be established, ex-friends to lovers. Extreme cuteness

a/n: I wanted to start something like this, and Carlos and Toto are always my favorites for angst and this plot arose especially for the grid's smooth operator. And I articulated the details of the story while reading "my tears ricochet" by @spngi and it's no secret to anyone that I'm a drama girl, so be aware that this is going to be a lot of drama, something cute and sweet, we'll see how it turns out.

a/n¹: notes: oh my god, this took so long to finish, I almost gave up when Tumblr lost everything I had ever written (I almost cried) after four attempts, three days, I finally finished it, anyway, I hope you like it, yay!

Freely inspired by Taylor Swift's "cardigan".

“I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs / The smell of smoke would hang around this long / 'Cause I knew everything when I was young / I knew I'd curse you for the longest time”

"This isn't happening, Y/N, Don't fucking fuck with me! This isn't happening!" I hear Aaron's raised voice as he walks through the hotel room, in my hands, an urgent ultrasound and a pregnancy test with a static "positive" on the test screen. "I can't be a father now!"

"I also didn't choose to be a mother now, Aaron, much less did I make this child alone!" I respond, equally upset and stand in front of him, I would never let him, or any man in the world, get above me.

"So it's decided, we will have the abortion" he says as if it were simple, and my mind spins in a huge spiral, I don't know if abortion is an option for me, much less in a strange country and in circumstances like this. "Ireland guarantees the right to abortion, we can do it today, hopefully!"

Aaron holds my arms tightly and shakes me lightly, trying to convince me. I move away from him as if I had been shocked and stop in the other corner of the suite, looking at him as if he were a stranger.

"I'm not going to have an abortion, much less in a foreign country! I cannot and will not decide this overnight, Aaron!" I speak and I see him become more exasperated and veins grow on his forehead, a sign of stress.

"You've got to be fucking kidding," he complains, and I don't like the glazed look he's giving me. "You can't decide? Y/N, fuck, we have plans, we start our trip now and you can’t decide?”

"No, we're talking about my body! Whether I carry this pregnancy forward or not, is my decision!" My voice echoes in the room and Aaron sighs, I feel a bad shiver running up my spine when I see my boyfriend's green eyes go dark.

"You're right, it's your decision, it's your body..." He rests his hands on his hips, breathing deeply "let's sleep, we'll go back to London and talk better"

I nod and change into comfortable pajamas. The test and ultrasound are forgotten on the table. All around us, the strange tension and feeling of something wrong only allow me to sleep much later than I would like. Aaron falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow.

-- ♡ --

I wake up as the sun escapes the translucent curtains, my body hurts like I've been hit by a truck. I barely open my eyes and my intuition kicks in and I sit up so quickly that my muscles groan with pain, there is no sign of Aaron, his bags are not in their place, I jump out of bed and open the safe, I only find my passport, torn up, in fact. No sign of my cards or the money we brought for the trip.

Tears burn my eyes as the truth crashes down on my head.

Aaron abandoned me in Ireland, alone, without money and with my documents torn up, he destroyed me. I start to hyperventilate, there's no one I can ask for help, no one to rescue me, I'm alone in a country I don't even know. My boyfriend left me, alone, pregnant, without money or any fucking support.

"Son of a bitch!" I scream and collapse on the floor, crying without stopping, I should have followed my instincts, but I trusted that he would never do something like that to me, I trusted his feelings. I was such a idiot! It takes me a few minutes to recover, taking deep breaths with my left hand on my flat stomach.

"I'll find a way to get us out of this, baby, I promise" my voice shakes and I try to stop crying. "Your stupid mom will find a way, we'll be fine soon"

After forty minutes between "I'll fix this" and "Oh my God, I'm fucked", I call the hotel reception, and I have the excellent news that my stay is guaranteed for another eight days, a Since Aaron — my stupid fucking ex — we paid before we left. At least I have a guaranteed roof over my head for a week, with food and clean clothes, I wouldn't be completely homeless.

My parents passed away years ago, my friends walked away from me when I started dating Aaron, which means I'm fucking alone.

A new bout of crying chokes my throat and I'm tired of being strong, I can't believe that stupid man left me and stole my money. I feel so, so destroyed. I face the test and the ultrasound, I wanted my mother to be here, I wanted her to comfort me and tell me everything would be okay.

Five days later.

"Wow, really? One hundred and fifty euros for a new passport? I don't have that money!" my hope dies as soon as I understand how bad my situation is. "I have the police report, isn't that worth anything?"

"I can check with my superiors, but it will take at least two weeks, Miss L/N"

"Two weeks? I can't afford to stay here for two weeks, I have no money!" My voice shakes and I suppress the urge to cry.

"It's the best I can do, Miss"

"Well, thank you then..." I thank you grudgingly and hang up. It's been five days since Aaron left, in the meantime, I've sunk into so much self-pity that I'm sharing the rent with Samara. I've swallowed my pride the last few days and called some old friends, but all the calls went to voicemail, and that doesn't surprise me.

What did I expect? That they would welcome me with open arms after I turned my back on everyone? How I was deceived;

My reservation will expire in three days, and then I will literally be in the gutter of Dublin, with no chance of returning to London, all the disappointment turns my stomach and brings on the disgusting feeling of sickness, I only have time to run to the bathroom and vomit my breakfast into the toilet. I don't know if it's a symptom of pregnancy or if it's a consequence of the horrible situation I'm in. I brush my teeth and go back to the room, going straight to the suite's balcony and facing the view of the city, I hope Dublin's landscape makes me forget how bad everything is around me. Sitting on the lounge chair, looking at the azaleas on the balcony wall, she absently ran her fingers over her belly; If you asked me a few days ago if I wanted to be pregnant, my answer would have been a giant "no", but now, I feel anxious about the little things.

Looking forward to buying the baby's clothes, choosing the color of the room or making a list of names, nothing will be easy, I know, but I will make it work, even with all the difficulties and problems, I will strive to be a good mother, and a father too if necessary.

"You didn't come at a good time, little one, but I promise I'll do everything I can for you" I murmur, trying to be confident and find some way out. There are no more tears to cry, there's no more pain to suffer so I'm not going to waste any more energy on it, fuck Aaron, I'm capable of taking care of everything, I just need some time, but I'll make it. I remain on the balcony until the end of the afternoon, when the hotel reception calls me, letting me know that dinner is already served, the mention of food makes me salivate with hunger, in the same way that it shakes my stomach in previous waves of nausea. "I need energy to sort things out for us, little one, so you can let mommy keep the food down today, huh?”

I talk to my stomach as I look for my cell phone in the mess on the bed, ignoring the pieces of my passport, otherwise I would have a tantrum and be able to get to England by swimming. I greet some guests, who ask me how I am and if the baby is already giving me trouble, and they also ask me if I managed to solve the passport problem. These same guests found out about this when they found me in tears at the reception, sympathizing with the situation I was in.

"We're fine, he's already deciding what he likes to eat, and avocado toast isn't on the list" I say laughing as we go downstairs. The restaurant is not that crowded, most guests prefer to dine in local restaurants and pubs, so most of the seats were vacant, the process of serving my food and choosing the table furthest from the air conditioning takes less than ten minutes. The food on my plate is almost gone when I'm drawn to the call of an Irish sports program, they were going to rebroadcast the Monaco GP qualifying, with comments from the commentators. I don't even notice the time passing, I end up staying there in the restaurant as the guests leave and say goodbye to me, and my heart starts racing like a rocket when the camera focuses on Carlos Sainz.

"I haven't heard anything from him since... Oh, it's been so long..." I murmur, resting my chin in my hands, hoping he can get a good position. Even though I haven't been to the races for some time, I still know how things work and I also know that Monaco is a difficult circuit. I can't help but be thrilled when he gets P2, it was quite an achievement! This leads me to wonder if he still keeps the same phone number.

Can Carlos help me... I know I'm being selfish, but I have no one else to turn to, and I'm about to despair. We were friends until one of his girlfriends decided that there was no more room in Carlos' life for me, until she decided that I could no longer come between them, not that I would, I always wanted my best friend to be happy, with whoever he was, and what hurt the most was Carlos agreeing with her and cutting me out of his life. Carlos was my best friend.

"It doesn't hurt to try, I already have the 'no'" I murmur, sliding my finger across my cell phone while I look for his phone. With my heart racing, I press "call" and wait and at the height of my anxiety, I count the seconds until he answers. Thirty seconds until I hear Carlos' familiar voice.

"Hello?" He says and I can't hold back my tears, like an emotional idiot.

"Carlos?"

"Y/N? Is that really you?" He looks as surprised as I am.

"Well yes, it's me" I give a choked laugh, the tears are blocking my nose, soon I'll be exhausted. "I know we're not friends anymore, Carlos, but I need your help... I don't would bother you if it wasn't necessary"

I hear the sound of a door closing and a strong accent complaining in what I think is French.

"You would never bother me, how can I help you, cielo?"

And then I talk, I say everything that's happening, my sobs make me cry in some parts, the hormones are already in an uproar, apparently. Carlos listens to me without interrupting once, and if I know him well, I know he's messing up his hair and frowning like he always does when he's concentrating.

"I wouldn't be calling if I weren't desperate, Carlos..."

"Calm down, calm down, you did well in the place, cielo, I won't be able to go, of course, but you'll be home soon, I promise" he says, there are no signs of hesitation in his voice and It comforts me in a way I can never explain. I hear the sound of drawers opening and a sheet of paper being torn apart "give me the address of the hotel, I won't be able to go, because of the rush, but I will send my advisor to take care of everything, don't worry, bien?"

"Thank you, thank you so much! I can't even tell you how grateful I am" I speak emotionally and give the hotel address next to the phone, in case I don't answer.

"There's no need to thank me, cielo, I would never leave you helpless, never" he assures me and I feel eighteen again, sitting on the sidewalk outside my house with him, the two of us eating ice cream and talking about his season. Oh God, I missed him so much.

"Congratulations on P2, you were great" I say sincerely, Carlos is a great driver and I know how much he works every day, I don't need to be with him to know, he is very obstinate.

"Oh, did you watch it? Thanks, Y/N"

We stay silent on the line, sharing our breaths until I break.

"I don't have enough words to thank you, Carlos, but thank you, you saved me" I say, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. "I need to sleep now... Good luck in the race tomorrow, I'll be rooting for you"

"Thank you cielo, have a good night" he says and we remain on the call until I hang up. Carlos and I have always shared silence, staying silent has never been a problem between us. When I lock myself in my room, all the weight of that day falls on me like a stone, I take a hot shower and lie down, tormented by memories.

"You don't call me anymore, so I came to see you, your mother told me you were here" I say, entering his room, something we always did, Carlos and I always went to each other's houses.

"Well, I didn't return your call for a reason" he said and I saw Isabella, his current girlfriend come out of the bathroom, wearing one of his shirts. "We'll talk later, Y/N"

“You never call me Y/N, what’s wrong, cielo?”

"We can't be friends anymore" He says it without pity, harshly and even cruelly.

"Huh? Why? Because of Isabella?"

"Isabella has nothing to do with this" he says quickly, standing in front of his girlfriend, Isabella puts on shorts and says she will give us privacy, I don't even look at her face, keeping his eyes on Carlos. "your feelings do!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Carlos?! My feelings? Are you crazy?

"I heard your conversation with Blanca" he confesses and I feel my heart stop, he shouldn't have... "Don't make me say, Y/N, So spare us the humiliation of having to break your heart over feelings that should never exist, because you know, we would never have anything."

I could call him names, fight him, or do anything else, but I just nodded and took off the friendship bracelet we had made last summer. A stupid symbol of our bond, which no longer exists.

"I think you're right, I hope you're immensely happy, cielo and that you can achieve everything you dream of" I leave the bracelet on his desk before leaving the room. I say goodbye to Mrs. Sainz and Blanca, Carlos' sister apologizes, she didn't know he was listening. "It's my fault, there's no need to apologize"

I said goodbye to them, aware that it would be the last time we would see each other like that, I had been accepted at a university in England and with the death of my parents, nothing kept me in Spain anymore. Except only for Carlos.

But not anymore, that was the last time I spoke to Carlos.

My heart jumps when I wake up, I feel my face wet and I confirm that just like in the memories, I cried. I really had feelings for Carlos, but I was willing to ignore them if it meant having my best friend with me, I didn't care if he was dating or anything, I just needed him, I didn't have anyone else, feelings that shouldn't have even arisen. I didn't want to ask him for help, but I knew I would never have the courage to ask Blanca, Reyes or Mr. Carlos, so I had to swallow my pride and call him.

I'm still looking at the hotel ceiling, thinking about the floodgate that Carlos opened in me, with just one phone call. I thought I was over it, that the hurt and resentment were gone. As for the mistake, I was as hurt and resentful as years ago, it still hurt as if it had been done yesterday. My daydreams are interrupted by a call from an unknown number, I answer and make the mistake of answering while yawning.

"I'm sorry, please, I just woke up" I ask before hearing the person, who laughs, I would recognize that laugh anywhere, even in a crowd. "Carlos"

"Sorry for waking you up, cielo" he says and I feel my skin itch, the nickname takes me back to good days, where everything was sweet and full of dreams.

"Relax, I literally just woke up. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes everything is fine, I just called to let you know that there will be a car to pick you up at one o'clock in the afternoon, you will be taken to a private flying field straight to London" he says, I hear the buzz of the pitlane in the background, lots of shouting in Italian and the uproar of the crowd. The race would start soon. "Is everything okay with you, cielo? Can you get it ready in time?"

"Yes, definitely yes, I didn't want to bother you, Carlos, especially before a race."

"Ah" he clicked his tongue, dismissing my apology "it's no big deal, I promised I would take you home and I will, there will be a car at the private airport to take you home, just give your address to the driver, and don't worry about paying anything, you only need to worry about eating and resting during the trip, as for your passport, I scheduled a time for you to get a new copy of your document, in three days, you will receive a memo on your cell phone."

My throat constricted, well here I am feeling like crying again, these hormones are still going to make me dehydrated from crying, or my tears would dry up at some point.

"You're being a guardian angel for me, Carlos, I'll never thank you enough" I murmur hoarsely, swallowing the tears.

"Oh no, no please, don't cry, you know I never know how to deal with your tears" he says and I know he's despairing, which makes me laugh and sniffle, in a strange way that I know I've never done before "I'm not doing anything much, if with all this money, I can't do something simple like take you home, what is all this for?"

"I know, thank you very, very much... I'll pack my bags and have coffee, you'll do well in this race, I know that" I say quickly and hang up before it gets awkward, or rather, weirder.

The following hours are a mess, checking in at the hotel, the journey to the runway and much of the flight are done with my mind on standby, I could only think about how betrayed I felt by Aaron's attitude, how I needed to swallow my pride and ask for help from someone I swore I wouldn't see again. The Earth turned several times until it threw me into Carlos Sainz's life once again. I sink into the armchair looking at the fluffy clouds through the window.

"I said I would find a way, little one, and we're going home now. Maybe you'll question my methods in the future, but not my results" I laugh at my own joke and I let my hands rest on my belly, I suddenly feel anxious to see it bigger, Being a mother was not a goal for the next five years, I'm not at all prepared for motherhood, but I don't know how to describe the panic that gripped my heart when Aaron suggested the interruption. I have a stable job, which allows me to work from home and a flexible schedule, I have a small apartment, but with an extra room for the baby and well, I decided to move on. I already feel very connected to the baby, and there is a break in the loneliness that I have felt for years, it is good not to feel alone.

My cell phone rings the moment I turn the key in the lock, Carlos' name flashes on the display and I answer it while trying to push my bags inside.

"The driver just told you he dropped you off at home, did everything go well? Were the flight attendants kind to you?"

"Yes, yes, everything was fine, Carlos, the flight attendants are really cute, I was treated very well, you can put your weapons away" I breathe a sigh of relief as I sit down on my sofa, finally away from all that hell I went through in Dublin.

"That's good, cielo, I've been worried about you all day"

I don't know what to answer, I don't know what Carlos expects from me after all these years, after so much distance.

"I'm glad you're home and well, cielo, I'll let you rest now"

Another time, we are silent on the call until I ask "did you win?"

“It was Charles' home race, my job was to make sure he won, but I got second place” he says, there's a certain 'job done' tone in his voice. "I'm happy with today's result"

"That's good, I'm happy for you, and for your teammate" I say sincerely.

"Thank you, that matters a lot... Anyway, rest okay? You can't sleep late anymore, take care cielo, call me for whatever you need, anything, don't hesitate" he says with such firmness that It almost makes me uncomfortable, so we hang up. I don't know if Carlos is back in my life and I don't know if I'm okay with that. It's so confusing, but I don't need to deal with it right now, I have more important things to take care of.

Almost two weeks later, I got a new passport, applied for new cards and was being monitored by an obstetrician. Luckily I didn't run into Aaron a single day, I changed the locks, I threw his things in the trash and made my transition from a committed woman to a single woman smoothly.

"What do I need to buy at the market?" I mutter as I check cupboards and fridge, licorice dangling from my lips. "milk, eggs, sugar, tomatoes and pasta... Cheese and bacon, for sure" Maybe I'll make a carbonara when I get home from the store. I had been in the middle of an Italian food fixation for days, all I wanted was pasta, tomatoes and cheese. Just when I finish making the market list, my campaign rings and I have a heart attack when I see no one other than Carlos Sainz — and all his other surnames — standing at my door.

"Carlos? What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, to be honest I don't know, but after you called me, I couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again" He says it so fast I think he's going to choke and I pull him into the apartment before the neighbors see him and decide to hold a carnival on my doorstep. He wastes a few seconds looking around, for an instant I saw my best friend there, the guy who knew everything about my life and who today, knew nothing about me anymore, big breakthrough.

"I'm sorry if you think that explains anything," I reply, looking at how lost he looks. "but again, what do you want here, Carlos?"

"I want to apologize, I was a shitty friend to you, I was cruel, I belittled your feelings, you are the most amazing and resilient person I know" he says, taking a step towards me, I don't back away, but I make it clear that he is not welcome in my personal space. "Life without you has been bad, very bad and I only realized that when I saw you, weeks ago."

"Walking away was the best thing we did, Carlos. God knows how we would have ended up if you hadn't put an end to it."

"No, it shouldn't have, it wasn't the right thing! We were left without our best friends because we didn't know how to deal with things, I didn't know"

"Carlos, you can't be best friends with the guy you're in love with, at some point I would hate you and that would be worse"

"and you didn't hate it?"

I keep quiet, because yes, I hated him for a long time, I still think I do and I don't even know why I'm trying to defend him. It must be the hormones talking.

"Yeah, yes I hated you for a long time, maybe I still hate you, but you were my best friend, I can't hate you forever"

I look at the man who was my mainstay for years, my confidant, best friend, accomplice, the guy who won my heart with gumdrops and notes in candy wrappers. The man I fell in love with and broke my heart. There is a mixture of feelings in me, hurt, pain, hope, resentment, all of it shaking my heart nonstop, I don't know what to feel.

"I don't know if I can have you around, Carlos, you were really my best friend, but you were also the guy I fell in love with and who broke my heart, I don't know if I'm ready to have you back"

He swallows, taking in what I said, and for a moment, I think he's going to give up and walk away, but he nods and straightens his posture "okay, I'm going to prove that I'm sorry, for everything, for being a shitty friend, a stupid guy, I'm going to make you forgive me and" he pauses, to emphasize everything "I'll be with you, I'll make up for all the years, all the pain, I'll deserve you, Y/N, I swear"

I don't even know what to think, my mind goes blank as I try to understand what he's up to.

"What if I don't want to?" The question escapes my mouth without permission, the filter between my brain and mouth is off, apparently. "What makes you think I might want you in my life again?"

He doesn't respond for a few minutes, I can almost see the gears in Carlos' head turning, trying to find a good answer.

"Nothing, but that's never been an impediment for me, you know"

I just stare at him, surprised by that, my mouth articulates, but no sound comes out.

"You came all the way here from Spain for this?"

"I would come from anywhere in the world"

After that there wasn't much we could say, Carlos insisted on staying and making pancakes for me, and I couldn't say no as my stomach growled like a monster at the mention of food. In an instant I was watching Carlos move everything in my kitchen, he chops strawberries and blackberries while letting the pancake batter rest for a while.

“Aaron looked for you?” He questions, putting the fruit in a bowl and only looks at me when I sigh loudly. "What? Has he been bothering you? I'll sort it out"

"What? No, no! He didn't show up"

"Then why do you look frustrated?" I watch Carlos put the frying pan on the fire and add the yeast to the dough, and then stir gently, placing small discs in the hot pan.

"I'm just tired, all the stress from the trip is still affecting my sleep..." I murmur, stealing a piece of strawberry, the smell of the pancakes increases my hunger and Carlos laughs when he hears my belly rumbling. "Don't laugh, I'm eating for two and you have no idea how much this little one likes to eat"

We enter another silent space, Carlos focused on finishing the pancakes and my mind wanders to our conversation, some time before. I'm not a hypocrite in saying that I've already forgiven Carlos, but I don't think there's still space for that kind of resentment, I'm not eighteen anymore, I'm about to be a mother, I no longer have the time or inclination to feed old grudges. And God knows how much I missed him all these years, I refused to watch any races so I wouldn't have to see him. Calling Carlos and asking for his help seems to have put all our dramas in order, It made me understand that one way or another, my life would end up intertwined with his again.

No matter how much I wanted or tried, I would never be able to completely move away from Carlos, and it's time to accept that.

"Here you go, eat it all, I don't want your baby to grow up hating me" he says and pushes over a plate full of pancakes, berries, honey and some icing sugar. A beautiful montage.

"I hope it's good, or we'll both hate you" I reply and laugh when he turns pale, I take out a generous piece and the sweet smell intoxicates me for a few seconds. I go to heaven and back when I chew the piece of pancake, the taste is light and the dough melts in my mouth, I know I can eat this for the rest of my life and be happy every day.

"Holy fucking God, this is perfect, Carlos!" I take a piece of pancake with a strawberry and feel heaven on my tongue, a moan of appreciation makes my whole body vibrate, this is perfect, damn"If you had used that to apologize, I would have definitely accepted it from the beginning."

"if I had known food was the secret, I would have come prepared" He laughs as I finish eating, nothing more is said until I finish the second helping, which Carlos was happy to serve me.

I slide my finger across the plate, picking up the traces of honey and sugar, humming as I literally wipe the plate clean. I insist that he put everything in the dishwasher and come sit with me so we can sort everything out, once and for all.

"I still can't believe you came all the way to London... You got my address from the driver and you're here, making me pancakes and everything..." I say, playing with one of the cushions while Carlos takes the armchair in front of me. I allow myself to face him, he's even more handsome than before, the trail of beard over his chiseled jaw, his thick hair in an elegant mess, Carlos is a vision of fucking paradise.

"I'm not lying, Y/N, I really want to make amends with you, in any way" he assures, and breaks the distance between us, sitting next to me while holding my hands. "You missed me so much, and when you called me crying, I realized that we missed so much from each other, I wanted you to be at my first victory with Ferrari, I wanted to see your graduation, help you move in... "

In a strange way, I'm grateful that he doesn't mention the fact that I was in love with him, not that I'm ashamed of it, but ignoring it might make us easier to get along with.

"We can try, Carlos, try to be friends again, because my goodness, I missed you so much" I confess and he laughs.

"I promise to make it worth it, cielo" he squeezes my hands, running his thumb affectionately from the back of my hand. "I won't disappoint you"

"I bet it'll be a boy," he says, stealing a spoonful of my ice cream, fast enough to avoid the hit of my spoon on his hand. "God said to share bread, you know?"

"Exactly, He said to share the bread, not my ice cream" I mumble, protecting the container with my body. Carlos has been coming to my house for weeks, always bringing food ��� I'm beginning to suspect that it has a direct connection to my stomach and my hunger —, gifts for the baby and books on child psychology, food introduction and everything he considers necessary to educate a child. He's been taking over my couch whenever he has time off. I dare say that I see more Carlos than my neighbors. "And why do you think it will be a boy? This is misogyny, Sainz"

He tries to steal my ice cream again and this time I slap him right in the middle of the forehead, which is effective because he moves away. "I'm not being sexist, I'm following my intuition, okay?"

"The last time we followed your intuition, we ended up in the middle of nowhere, at three in the morning in a car without gas. If it weren't for my father, you would be grounded to this day." I respond, changing the sofa, Carlos is willing to steal my ice cream, interfering with a pregnant woman's right to satisfy her desire for a sweet treat after lunch. I'm going to report him to human rights.

"But do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

"I have no idea, I still don't have that 'maternal intuition' that I've seen in the support group for solo mothers, but I'm fine with any option, I'll love it regardless of gender" I say, my right hand slides over my recently completed five-month-old belly. "I should have found out the sex at the last appointment with the obstetrician, but this little one here had his back turned, can you believe it?"

Carlos laughs, throwing his entire body back and falling onto the sofa. I just watch him laugh, being enveloped by his laughter like a fluffy blanket.

"Seriously, I didn't even know that was possible, crossing your legs, ok, but being on your back is something new" he says, still laughing and drying his tears. I just realize how close he is, When I feel your hand on my belly, the calloused palm warms my skin even with the shirt between us. My breath hitches in my throat, something new growing and It's not just the little traveler in my womb... I don't know if that could be a good thing, especially considering our history.

"Yeah, she told me to go back there in a few days, if I want to find out the gender before the sixth month, then I'll be there on Tuesday, I won't have a meeting at work and I can buy the paints" I explain, poking at the ice cream, trying to distract myself from Carlos' hand on my belly.

"I just need to be in Maranello on Saturday, so I can join you if you want" he suggests, finally moving to his end of the sofa.

"Really? I don't want to disturb you, I know race week is coming and you need to prepare" I say trying, I don't even know what I'm trying, I'm going to blame my exploding hormones.

"I can deal with that later, you need my opinion on paint colors and someone to hold your hand while you root for the business class traveler to be facing forward this time" he said, and looks at me meaningfully "that is, I am most needed here"

"Are you sure? You don't need to go"

"I would be there, even if I were playing crosswords in the office waiting room" he says, without giving me any chance for discussion.

"Okay, whoever said that is no longer here, now pass the ice cream slowly and no one gets hurt" I say and hold out my hand, waiting for the container he stole when he thought I wasn't looking. "Now"

"That's unfair," he grumbles, handing over the pot.

"I'll let you have the ice cream if you get pregnant in my place."

"You win, you can have the ice cream"

-- ♡ --

"Do you want me to come in with you?" He asks and I bite my lip to keep from laughing, Carlos is holding my bag under his shoulder. Quite a scene.

"I need someone to hold my hand, and" I look behind him "I don't see any more volunteers, so smile, you've been selected" I smile, waving my index finger as if it were a flag.

"Okay, let's confirm that my intuition is right"

"Uh-huh, of course yes, cielo" I say, entering the office.

The obstetrician doesn't need to ask any initial questions, since I was here a few days ago, so asking how I am is irrelevant. I change into that horrible hospital gown and lie down on the stretcher, Carlos looks anxious in the passenger seat and my hand grabs his so fast I don't even register it, I laugh nervously as the cold gel is spread across my bulging belly.

"Let's hope he's being an exhibitionist today" she says confidently and starts to use the device.

"How can you understand anything here, it's all blurry" he says, approaching the screen. "Where is his head?"

"Shut up, chilli" I say, but I give a nervous laugh "I don't understand anything either, so let those who do understand tell you what we're seeing", I shake his hand and receive an eager smile.

"We're lucky today, he's turned around, or rather, she" she indicates on the screen and I start crying immediately, Carlos squeezes my hand and wipes my tears. "Congratulations, you will be parents of a very strong-willed girl."

"Oh, no, no, I'm just the family friend" Carlos corrects her, but this is forgotten, given how much I'm crying. "You're crying a lot, should I be worried, cielo?"

"I-I'm fine" I sniffle crying less, I'm having a little girl, I don't even know what to say, I'm exploding like fireworks "I'm fine, really"

"I'll leave you two alone" the obstetrician leaves and I feel, cleaning the gel from my abdomen and I am hugged tightly, Carlos supports me with care and zeal, there is so much between the lines here, so much implied.

"That little girl is so lucky to be born as your daughter" he murmurs, stroking my hair gently "a little girl, damn you were right, my intuition is shit"

I press my hands to his shoulder blades so hard I feel my fingers tremble. "Thanks for coming"

"There's no place in the world I should be, cielo"

"You want me to go to the next race? Why?"

"I like having important people cheering me on there, and Charles is bothering me to meet you" he says, painting the wall lilac, he's all dirty, there's dye in his hair, and of course, he is shirtless. As long as I don't have a knife at my neck, I will never confess that the vision is messing with me. "I will take care of everything, you can stay in the same hotel as me"

"You should stop taking care of everything, or you'll have a heart attack instead of appendicitis" I murmur, Carlos insisted that I sit and watch him paint, he even brought books, chopped fruit and even Alexa to play my favorite playlist. "Seriously Charles Leclerc wants to meet me? Why?"

"I have no idea, Charles must have heard it one of the times you called me" he replies. Carlos speaks so quickly that there's no way not to be suspicious, but I give him the benefit of the doubt, I'm sure Charles will tell me why.

"Mhmm, I know... Now I'm curious to meet him too... But the trip to Budapest can be so tiring..." I murmur, peeling the pear as I watch him slide the paint roller along the wall perfectly, Carlos is meticulous and perfectionist in everything he sets out to do, so I admire the paint stains in his hair and on different parts of his body, thank God the fan is on here, otherwise I would be melting from the heat, and having him there, almost naked, doesn't help much.

“It’s not like I’m going to let you take a commercial flight to Hungary, please Y/N, I’m not that petty!” He retorts, touching up the paint on the roller while giving me a quick look "You will go with me to Budapest, on a private flight and I will leave you staying in the same hotel as me, if you are worried, I will hire a private neonatal nurse to accompany us, but I really want you to go, it's important for me to have you two there with me."

"If you insist on that—..." I try to say, but he interrupts me.

"I insist yes, and I'm glad you agreed, I was ready to start the Infallible Convincing Plan for Carlos Sainz" he says and I laugh loudly "What? Am I not convincing?"

"Persuasion isn't one of your best qualities, chilli" I mutter, picking up the folded sheet of paper from among the books he brought me "changing the subject, I listed the female names that I liked most for the baby, feel free to give your opinion, I'm quite undecided here, I have good options."

"I'm listening, I hope they are good names and none taken from the books, considering how obsessed with A Court of Roses and Thorns you are, the girl is in danger of being called Feyre" Carlos shamelessly mocks me and I throw the pear stem at him. "I'm just telling the truth, cielo, but come on, give me the options"

"You know, Ancient Egypt has been my Roman Empire for years, so I thought I would pay homage to one of the greatest queens of that civilization, none other than Cleopatra, but" I pause, aware that Carlos will want to object, so I continue quickly "I chose to shorten the name, Cleo. It's a good option, right?"

"It's a beautiful, elegant and feminine name. I like it, you have a good option" he responds, with his back to me, giving a beautiful view of his lats contracting and relaxing. Oh God, what a hell of a handsome man.

"Well, the next option is Athena, as the Greek goddess of justice, wisdom and war, I don't think I need to explain further, right?"

"It's good, but I still prefer Cleo"

"I like Margot and Elena, they are both elegant and short, I didn't think about long and complicated names, I don't want her to have problems learning to write her own name"

"It's a good justification, giving her a name that's easy to read and write... So I still prefer Cleo"

"Don't you want to hear the other options?"

"Nope, I like Cleo, it's beautiful and very meaningful, and it matches her last name, she'll love it, when she understands it"

I hadn't thought about my last name when choosing the names, so Carlos' reasoning makes sense, so I already had a name chosen.

"Alright, we have a winner, I like Cleo too, thanks for helping me choose"

"You're welcome, we are here to serve well and always serve" he makes an exaggerated bow and I laugh.

"Oh really? My kitchen faucet is dripping non-stop, can you fix it for me?" I ask ironically and Carlos wipes the sweat from his face, giving me another meaningful look.

"Of course yes, cielo, I'll sort it out as soon as I'm done here"

"I'm kidding, chilli, you don't have to worry about it"

"But not me, I'll sort it out as soon as it's over" he insists and I give up trying to make him give up, Carlos is as stubborn as a wild horse, it's no wonder he's at Ferrari. Which makes me think of something:

"I agree to go with you, but I want to meet Lewis, it's my condition" I point my index finger and Carlos looks at me, raising his eyebrow.

"Really? I need to find out what makes Lewis Hamilton so appealing to the female audience" I can't identify the feeling in his voice, and I adjust myself in the seat, stroking my protruding belly. Being pregnant isn't easy, the nausea, all the swelling and fluid retention is horrible, I was already sleeping poorly because my belly wouldn't let me find a comfortable position and of course, I've already lost all my clothes. But I don't regret for a moment having continued with the pregnancy, my little traveler is a gift, Cleo already makes my days wonderful. I observe the lilac covering the walls little by little, making her room take on shape and color, soon the furniture would be assembled.

"I think it's the voice, he has a very good voice to listen to, I could listen to hours of ASMR of him speaking" I respond, hearing Carlos mumble intelligibly. "What did you think of color? I didn't want pink because I thought it was too obvious, and I love the combination of lilac and green"

"I like it, they are very pretty shades and you chose a good brand, they don't have a strong smell and they pigment well on the wall... I'm almost done here, where do you leave the tools to fix the tap?"

"Carlos, I was joking, don't worry about it, the plumber will come on Tuesday to fix it, I'm serious" I say, hoping he will forget this story. "Don't worry, it's serious!"

He puts the rest of the paint in the can and takes the paint roller to the laundry area. I even try to help, but Carlos forces me to sit down again when he returns from the laundry area. He himself collects the newspapers from the floor and opens the windows.

"I need a shower now, can I use your bathroom?"

"Obviously, feel free, I'll order a pizza for us" I say, following him to the living room, Carlos waves and gives a quick kiss and and go to my bathroom in the suite. I see how his jeans fit well on his hips, leaving the waistband of his underwear slightly visible and God only knows how that messes with my hormones. “Y/N, you fucking need to control yourself, he’s your best friend, stop acting like a needy bitch.

"Are you Y/N? Finally! It's a pleasure to meet you, Carlos talked a lot, a lot about you!" Charles tells me, giving me a tight, loving hug. He is really very handsome and It's easy to understand why his fans are so obsessed with him, he's gorgeous. He has an adorable dimpled smile on his face and I feel shaken all of a sudden.

"He also spoke a lot about you, Charles, it's great to meet you too" I return the hug.

"I hope he said good things"

"I tell her the truth!" Carlos shouted from afar.

Soon we are surrounded by the team, who are extremely warm and kind to me, but I feel claustrophobic among so many people.

"Okay guys, give her space, please, you're making her suffocate" Carlos appears as a salvation and takes me out of the crowd, Charles follows us to the empty area of the garage. "Are you okay, cielo? Here, drink some water, it's too hot and you can't get dehydrated." He offers me a disposable cup of water and makes me sit down. "I have to talk to my mechanics now, but Charles can take you for a ride in the pitlane, if that's okay?"

"Of course, of course don't worry, you can go, we'll be fine"

"Well, take care of them, Charles"

"Relax, being with me is the same as being with God, relax cabrón"

"That's what scares me" Carlos says and kisses me quickly on the cheek, not caring what it does to me, not that he knows.

"Ready? I'm going to give you the best guided tour of the pitlane" Charles interlaces his arm in the middle and guides me through the pitlane, he is approached by a lot of people, always being extremely kind and attentive, he makes some jokes while introducing the places and some people.

"Y/N! Carlos didn't tell me you were coming!" Lando comes running towards us and hugs me too, we were already close to the Mercedes garage, one of the employees told us that Lewis was in a meeting, so I decided to wait

"It was a last minute decision, there was no way to warn you anyway" I say while Charles takes a chair from the Mercedes garage and makes me sit down.

"Why did you meet her before me?! I hear Sainz talking about her all day!"

"I live in London and I met her during his visit, so I tagged along! It's not my fault you don't live in London!" Lando retorts and I laugh at them.

"Sorry if I'm Monegasque! I didn't choose to be born in Monaco!" My laughter echoes around the room and they stop arguing, and then they laugh too, but the moment is interrupted by Lewis Fucking Hamilton. He's more impressive up close, damn it.

"It's good to finally meet Carlos' girl, you've been the talk of the paddock, he says and my cheeks burn and he hugs me too. The four of us talk for almost forty minutes, Lewis is exactly what I expected, polite, kind and attentive, he really has the aura, that aura that few people have and that made it clear why he is one of the greatest in the sport. He's really impressive.

"Let's go to the garage chérie, you need to get some rest, it's too hot for you to stay out here" Charles says as he guides me to the Ferrari garage, where Carlos is already waiting for us, Seeing him is like a cool breeze on a scorching day, he looks so good in red that wow, it hurts to remember he's leaving the Tifosi.

"How was it? Did you enjoy the ride? Did Charles treat you well?" He asks and sizes me up, but I nod dismissively and hear Charles click his tongue, offended.

"I'm fine, Charles was a perfect gentleman to me, and we met Lando on the way, it was amazing!" I say.

"That's great, cielo, let's go to my room, you need to rest, there was a lot of excitement today" He takes me to his private room and lets me rest on the bed there, I don't mind, my feet hurt so much and I wanted to get some sleep, Carlos sits on the edge and rubs my belly, he looks strange, like he's uncomfortable. "Are you okay? How is Cleo?"

"We're fine, she's great" I reply and feel her move and kick, Cleo is Carlos' biggest fan, apparently, she always moves when he speaks, loves the sound of his voice and kicks in the exact place where his hand is. She's going to be his biggest groupie, and there's no argument.

I watch him, feeling my heart beat like a fool, Carlos has been exactly what I hope he will be, a friend, a great companion, he is always in connection with me, I hate knowing that I'm falling in love with him again, that I'm entering that gray area again, putting our friendship at risk because of my stupid feelings, so I'm going to swallow whatever I feel because I'm not willing to be without my best friend again, I couldn't bear to lose him and I want him to be part of my daughter's life, of our life. So it's okay for me to stay in the friend zone if it keeps him around.

"What's bothering you, chilli? You look strange"

"I... I need to tell you something"

"Carlos, if you brought me to Budapest just to kick me out of your life, I swear to God I will run you over with your own car!" I exclaim, trying to pinch his muscular abdomen but failing, obviously.

"What? Of course not, it's nothing like that" he laughs nervously "It's something else... Well, I know this shouldn't happen, and I don't even know how to tell you this, but spending the last few months with you It's been the best thing in my life, I love spending any available time with you and Cleo, helping you with everything, this has left an impression on me and continues to leave a lasting impression on me, I'm so grateful for allowing me to be a part of this."

He stops, leaving tension in the air, making me anxious.

"What I want to say, cielo, is that my feelings have changed, I no longer feel like your friend, I'm just falling more in love with you every day, I tried to avoid it, because we are friends, but it was inevitable and when I realized it, I was already in love. I know it's not the best case scenario, and I broke your heart before, so it's okay with me if you don't reciprocate, but please, let me stay close to you, close to Cleo, I already love this little traveler, I love her so much and it hurts to imagine not being around—..."

I didn't even notice when I sat down on the bed, but I notice the exact moment my hand grabs the collar of his red t-shirt and I kiss him. As I imagined doing since I was sixteen. Carlos responds almost immediately, there is urgency, care and satisfaction in his kiss, all spiced up by the sweet taste of cinnamon. It's exactly how I always imagined it. It's sweet, strong and intense.

"If it's up to us, you'll be with us forever, cielo" I say and he breathes a sigh of relief, kissing me again while leaving his calloused hand on my belly.

"I'm going back to London now, fuck it, my little girl is coming" he says on the cell phone, I hear the sound of him moving around the room, I breathe loudly when the contraction hurts and I want to cry, but I don't.

"No, no, you're saying goodbye to Ferrari, Cleo won't like knowing that her father is abandoning the race like that" I say in one breath. "We're fine, okay? Blanca is here with me and Reyes will be here soon, please stay calm, love and promise me you will win, for us"

Carlos whimpers and I stop holding him, bursting into tears, I wanted him with me there, but I would never forgive myself if he didn't race his last race with the Maranello team, and Cleo will understand in the future. I know it will.

"Cielo... This is fucking unfair" he kicks something and I sob "I wish I was there, you need me, both of you"

"Win the race, chilli, for us!" I scream because Blanca takes the phone away from me, because I enter the operating room.

-- ♡ --

Cleo is perfect, there is nothing Aaron about her, thank heavens and she is absurdly restless, she doesn't cry, but she doesn't sit still either. I'm absurdly in love with my little traveler, ga she is beautiful, healthy and was born at exactly the same time that Carlos won the race in Abu Dhabi, that didn't give him the championship, but it was extremely important for us, because the checkered flag waved when she cried.

"She's beautiful" Blanca is standing next to the stretcher, holding my daughter's little hand while Cleo breastfeeds, still with her eyes closed. The silence of the maternity corridor is broken by quick footsteps, the door to my room is opened with force and I see Carlos there, he still looks like a mess in his Ferrari overalls, messy hair and very, very tired.

He doesn't say anything, he just walks towards us and kisses my forehead for long seconds and looks at Cleo.

"I'll leave you alone" Blanca gives a suspicious smile and leaves the room.

"Lamento llegar tarde, pequeña estrella, pero gané la carrera por ti". He says in Spanish and I melt with so much love, Cleo seems to recognize his voice and calm down. "she is beautiful, too beautiful, I'm sorry for being late, mi amor"

"It's okay, chilli, you're here at the right time" I say, grateful to smell his expensive cologne, it feels like home and gives me so much comfort. "Thanks for coming."

"There's nowhere I want to be, cielo" he murmurs, carefully I make Cleo stop breastfeeding and cover her breast with the hospital gown. "are you really okay, cielo?"

"I'm, I'm fine actually... How did you get here so fast?"

"Fred left a jet ready for me, I just did the race, got the trophy and came here as soon as I could" he says, running his finger on Cleo's cheek. "She's so beautiful, her nose is identical to yours, happily."

"Do you want to hold her?"

He looks nervous, but accepts it. Carefully, Carlos places Cleo on his lap and walks around the room, talking softly to her, it's the most adorable scene in the world, my heart fills with love as I watch them.

"Cielo, will you marry me?" He says, still looking at the baby in his lap. "I want you close to me always, I want to take care of you, of Cleo. God, I love you both so much and I can't spend another day away from you"

"Are you serious?

"Damn it! I've never been so serious in my life"

"Yes, yes, yes! There is no one better for me, no better father for Cleo" I say in tears, and he comes over, sitting next to me on the hospital gurney. We both watch Cleo sleep in his arms, she looks comfortable and happy with him, just like me.

Months later.

"Let's go see daddy, sweetheart" I say, clearing the entrance to the paddock. It was Cleo's first race since she was born, Carlos had been looking forward to this race for weeks, but didn't want to travel with her so young, so I waited for the Silverstone circuit. I'm in the process of moving to Madrid, but it's happening gradually because of the racing, the 2025 season has been unusual, Williams is finally scoring well, Carlos is having a great season so far, so I thought it was only right that we came to support his race.

Cleo babbles happily, clapping her hands as the team members greet us and joke with Cleo, my little traveler laughs to everyone. She is Miss Congeniality herself, drawing attention wherever he goes. When we finally arrive at the garage, we are greeted by the sound of an engine being tested, the mess of Netflix with the team and Carlos aside, talking to Alex as if they were two old gossips, and when he sees us, he smiles so wide it shines like the sun.

"¡Mi estrellita!" He talks loudly as he comes towards us, Cleo claps her hands and laughs, making the cute baby sounds, getting the team's attention, I don't mind seeing my little girl be his focus first, this is part of what I idealize paradise to be. Cleo laughs as Carlos kisses and tickles her, so I go to greet the team, ask James what his predictions are for the day's race and talk to Alex.

"Where's Lily? I thought I'd have company during the race" I look around, trying to find her, but I hear Alex sigh.

"She's at a golf tournament in Asia, she won't be back until Thursday" he says sadly "She wanted to come, especially since it was Cleo's first race, but she couldn't miss it..."

"Oh, and will it be broadcast? I want to root for her" I say, the two of us spent a long time talking until Carlos came to us, they are both blushing and smiling, which makes my heart skip a beat.

"Hey cutie, I loved your blue jumpsuit it suits you so much" Alex holds out his hands to her and of course my daughter goes with open arms to him, Alex takes her for a walk and sees her cats, giving me and Carlos a little time together.

"Hey cielo, Thank you for coming, it's important to have you here" he says and kisses me, wrapping his arm around my waist, keeping me close."I like this dress, any special occasions?" He says, looking me from head to toe, I try not to blush under his malicious scrutiny.

"I thought we could have dinner today after the race"

"Oh, really? I think we can request a special babysitting service from Lando and Charles... And extend our dinner to the room, what do you think?"

"Excellent! We can make things better then" I suggest, playing with the zipper on his suit.

"And how do you intend to make things better, mi cielo?" He asks quietly, and suddenly everything around us disappears, leaving just the two of us there. The air becomes thicker and my breathing is heavy with anticipation.

"A bet, if you win the race, I'm in your hands, otherwise, you'll be under my yoke, what do you think?" I suggest softly, he laughs, running his tongue over his lips as he stares at me.

"I'm in, and I'm prepared mi amor, because I'm going to be at the highest place on the podium today" He assures me and kisses me, the team calls him to run, I find Alex and Cleo in the corner of the garage, both playing with one of his kittens.

"Come on baby, let's let Uncle Alex run" I pick Cleo up and she whimpers, wanting to keep playing with the puppy. "then we play with the kitten, love, I promise" I say to to comfort her, Alex promises to leave the kitten with Cleo later. The two drivers prepare for the race and I decide to watch from Carlos' room. Cleo is not used to the noise of the cars and I don't want it to become a nuisance for her.

The whole race is full of unforeseen events and surprises, no one is really expecting Williams to perform well, but Carlos and Alex are getting everything they can out of the car, putting pressure on Lewis and Lando in the first positions, the last laps literally become a game of musical chairs, the four exchange risky overtakes, the last lap is marked by an interesting exchange and Carlos takes first place, with Lewis in second and Alex in third. Cleo and I celebrated in the pilot room until we were taken to the garage, When Carlos arrives, he is euphoric and celebrates with the team, I love seeing his joy, how well he is with Williams. He comes to us and picks Cleo up, throwing her in the air and making her laugh. I'm taken by surprise when he kisses me, amidst applause and screams from the team.

"Thank you, thank you for everything, mi amor, I love you, I love our family"

"I love you, chilli, and I know Cleo does too" I respond, leaving my face close to his and kissing him again. I never thought that my life would have such a huge turnaround and that I would end up here, once again in love with my best friend and, on top of that, being reciprocated by him. I thank each and every entity that has guided me to this moment, I thank my incredible partner, my perfect family and our wonderful family.

I watch Carlos go get his trophy, he refuses to leave Cleo in the garage and she loves being in the middle of the mess.

And I love seeing them.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cause and Effect

ok this is overdone i feel but i love your writing. something abkut the effects the sides have on themselves? virgil being super anxious and logan overwhelmed and similar things? something w janus? with a good portion of hurt comofrt? love your fics!! – anon

Hi! I love your writing so so so much. I do have a request for you, if you want it: Headcanon that Remus, being responsible for intrusive thoughts, is also responsible for any earworms Thomas gets. Which, he mostly uses to his advantage. Except. He unironically likes Taylor Swift and is terrified of that information getting out because it will ruin his image/he won’t be taken seriously. – anon

I hope you’re having a good week! I was wondering if I could request a hurt/comfort fic with one of the Sides being really bad about announcing/enforcing boundaries, because “it probably means more to them than it does to me” “it’s not that bad” “I can deal with it”. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, panic attacks, anxiety attacks

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2954

Patton doesn't always remember that he has feelings, too. Logan works…a lot. Virgil lives his life looking over his shoulder. Janus has gotten so good at lying to everyone that it's a wonder he even knows what the truth is himself. Remus wears shame like a badge of honor and the sweater he just can't manage to make himself throw away. Roman is tired. The Sides struggle. The Sides help each other.

Patton doesn't always remember that he has feelings, too.

He's at the center of Thomas's feelings, of course, and that means he's feeling a lot of things that aren't necessarily his all the time. Thomas is happy, he's happy. Thomas is sad, the entire world might be ending. Thomas is angry, he has to hide everything that looks even vaguely orange because something might explode. Thomas is depressed, he finds it hard to even get out of bed.

That extends to the Sides somewhat too; all of them experience heightened emotions, a wonderful by-product of being metaphysical and in the Mindscape. So that means that anything that might happen to them will happen in greater intensity than it would in the 'real world.' But sometimes that can be a little hard to handle, especially if they aren't used to it. For Roman, it looks like being stuck at the worst part of a tragic monologue for hours, for Logan, it looks like that one question on a test that you just can't answer, for Virgil, it's the quiet and unsettling feeling of having something just over your shoulder all the time, for Janus, it's the itch that you just can't scratch, for Remus, it's the noise that's just at the wrong frequency.

It's hard, it's hard for all of them, and so Patton takes it upon himself to help them through it. He takes Roman's hands and just holds them, trying to make him see that he doesn't have to perform, not now, not with him. He sits with Logan and they just talk, about nothing, about everything, until Logan can smile just a little and everything feels better. He puts a pair of headphones on Virgil and wraps him up in a weighted blanket, leaned against his chest. He spoils Janus with a spa day until their favorite snake is too tired to do anything but sleep. And he sings with Remus, as loud and off key as they can, until that's all they can hear.

It's good. It's fun. It's worth it to take care of his kiddos. But sometimes things we say when we're hurting can make other people hurt, and it's important to take care of that too.

Sometimes Patton forgets that. Sometimes he mumbles it's okay, they didn't mean it, through his own tears. Sometimes he has to go and be by himself for a while before he can come back and face them again. Sometimes he has to just…remind himself that they're hurting, and that's what's important.

That isn't true, of course, and when the rest of them find out, it's easy to see that they love him too. They play games until their sides hurt from laughing so much, they crowd around the kitchen to bake cookies and brownies and all manner of sweet treats, they watch movies and cuddle on the couch until they all fall asleep. And when he's upset, because he gets upset too, they all come into his room and tell him how much he means to them until the curtains turn blue again.

***

Logan works…a lot.

There is something to be said for how subtle yet pervasive the concept of Logic is. On first glance, one would associate it primarily with academics, math in particular, or some such thing that is so purely intellectual that it might seem limited in its application. When in reality, when you examine it further, there is some hint of Logic in just about everything that you do, and so there is no escape from the things that you must use it for in order to do it correctly.

Logan has a lot of work. Logan has a lot of work. He has so much work, in fact, that if he stopped to think about how much work he has, he would become so daunted by the prospect of staring at such a tall hill that he would never be able to conquer it. Best to deal with things one problem at a time, take them step by step, and make sure that he doesn't stop to consider the sheer magnitude of what he's doing.

Perhaps this isn't the healthiest way to go about it. Perhaps he would be better suited to breaking down things into more manageable hills, getting over them one step at a time, that sort of thing, but he has no time for that. In the time it would take to do that, the first of the manageable hills would already have become unmanageable by the time he got back to them. So this is how it must be, working and working and working until there is a big enough pause for him to catch his breath.

The others…are not fond of this. Surely, he accounts for enough time to spend with them, but it isn't easily won. It's fraught with the thoughts of what else he could be doing, a passing worry that he's missing something egregious, that he would be better suited to getting all of his work done before allowing himself a break. But that is not the nature of resting, that is the nature of rotting, even if Logan cannot actually give himself a break.

When they find out, they drag him away from his work and into the Imagination, into a library so full of wonder and curiosity that he has no choice but to stop thinking about his work and instead, chase the things he's actually interested in. He darts from bookshelf to bookshelf, peppering the others with did you know, did you know, did you know, and nothing they could say back will be as rewarding as seeing his eyes light up with excitement for the first time in…they can't remember how long it's been.

***

Virgil lives his life looking over his shoulder.

His existence is a constant struggle of did we remember to do this, did we forget this, what if this happens, this is going to go wrong, everything's going to explode in our faces. Every time they so much as leave the house, it's a war of keeping himself together just long enough to make it back so they don't have an embarrassing meltdown in the middle of…wherever they happen to be. The grocery store, the gym, even the fucking sidewalk. It's like walking through the world where there are big flashing neon signs everywhere he turns, each warning about something else awful and terrible, and yet somehow everyone else is able to completely ignore them.

It's terrifying.

And what's worse is that he knows if he so much as breathed a word of this to any of them, they wouldn't believe him. They'd do something like laugh and say he's just freaking out over nothing—which he knows, that's not doing anything to stop it from happening in the first place—or try and rationalize it out of him. Which won't work either, because he knows he's being irrational, that's why he's so mad about it in the first place, but realizing what's happening and being able to do something about it are two different things.

Being able to get himself grounded becomes more of a necessity than anything else. This big hoodie that lets him become an amorphous blob, the heavy things in his pockets he can squeeze when the temptation to break something gets too much, the headphones and earbuds he keeps stashed everywhere with the phone charger clipped to his belt because if he can't listen to music at a moment's notice, he might actually break down in tears. He has to keep himself alert, because if something's going to go wrong, he's going to need to notice it quickly so he can get everyone else on board and safe before it wrecks the rest of their lives.

And when he manages to shove that out of his mouth in an absolute mess of words, he's greeting not with laughs and teases, but with open arms and kind words. He's bundled into Remus's arms and Roman lies on top of them as Janus chuckles, hands carding through his hair to help silence the worst of the mumblings that something's going to go wrong. Logan takes his hand and squeezes it in the rhythm for breathing exercises as Patton sings something soft under his breath.

They're all in the same room. They're all safe. They're all going to be okay.

He can do this. He can do this.

He can do this.

***

Janus has gotten so good at lying to everyone that it's a wonder he even knows what the truth is himself.

Stories need antagonists. A narrative needs something to help it wind its way around all the twists and turns to make it into something worth following. If that means that the truth needs to be a little harder to find, that something needs to go a little wrong before it can be set to rights, well, he's happy to play the part. He's happy to thrill at the surprised looks he gets from the naive little heroes, the shock and betrayal on their faces when they realize he's tricked them, to cackle as they scramble to figure out what to do next.

He's equally thrilled to watch them squirm as he pokes and prods at their comfort zones. Challenging anyone who appears to be steadfast is endlessly entertaining, after all, and he can hardly blame himself when he's rewarded with such passionate monologues or fiery outbursts that end in grudging admittance that maybe he had a point all along. He's never been one to refrain from being smug, after all, and it would be a crime to deprive people of the right to see him in all his victorious glory.

Sometimes, though, that victory feels a little hollow. When it stops being a surprise and more of a resignation, when it's no longer something that they rise to meet but hunker down to grin and bear…when he wins, trouncing them soundly, and they take it on the chin and keep moving…that's not what this is for. He's here to make all of them feel a little something, even if it starts out badly, they should be proud of themselves when they outsmart him, out-think him, even when they don't win but they come close. He's a thorn in their side, not the sword that guts them before they have so much as a chance to say anything. And there's only so much fun that can be had toying with them before it feels like he's kicking a puppy for no reason.

He makes Roman cry once. He just stands there, staring at Janus, waiting for it to be over with tears streaming down his face. And when Janus stammers that yes, he's…he's done, Roman just leaves.

He doesn't want to just be the bad guy. He doesn't want them to think he doesn't care for them. He doesn't want them to be hurt, not…not in any way that actually matters.

He takes it on the chin, as he's seen them do, but it gets harder. Walking the line between fulfilling the role he's made for himself and actually being cruel is difficult, and tensions stretch further and further until one day, he can't do it and he has to retreat to his room and spend the rest of the day puzzling about how to fix this. He's never been the one to actually offer words of comfort. He's been there to lance infections from open wounds, not stitch them back together. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Roman comes to him first. Wraps him up in a hug and ignores all his babbling in favor of dragging him to their favorite picnic spot in the imagination. Everyone takes on a different role, just for that day, where Patton is the gardener that helps the baker, Logan, Roman and Remus are the woodcutters that build the cabins, Virgil is the blacksmith and Janus—Janus is the innkeeper. They spin a new story together, one where everyone gets a happy ending.

Stories end, after all, and new ones begin.

***

Remus wears shame like a badge of honor and the sweater he just can't manage to make himself throw away.

He delights in the uncomfortable, luxuriates in the madness, and happily dances along to the songs of the worst things you could ever imagine. His side of the Imagination is chaos and ruin, twisted undergrowth giving way to dark city scapes filled with ne'er-do-wells and the filth from stories that finally get their chance to steal the spotlight. He lovingly tends to his creatures that would send fainter hearts into shock, none more so than his beloved Kraken, Oliver. Shipwrecks litter the bottom of the Imagination's oceans and he couldn't be prouder.

For Remus, chaos is a way of life. He takes the things that normal people would scoff at—just as enthusiastically as he would scoff at them for being so boring—and makes it into art. He builds machines that are needlessly complicated and endlessly horrible. He turns perfect order into perfect disorder with a gleeful squeal. He's the bane of Logan and Roman's existences—one is affectionate, the other decidedly less so—and he steps into his bear traps with a grin on his face.

There are, of course, downsides. He's alone, a lot of the time. No one else really appreciates everything he does, all the hard work that goes into turning his world into the best it can be for him. Sure, they get close sometimes, like when there's an experiment and he and Logan get to go full mad-scientist, or when he and Janus are gleefully stirring all manner of shit up for everyone else, or when he and Roman throw literally everything they can at every sort of wall just to see what might stick. But when those times are over, and he's back to being the same old, messy Remus, he gets…lonely.

Especially when there's something that would make them think he's something else.

He's got a reputation. He's supposed to be dark, twisted, messy, chaotic, that sort of thing. He's annoying, the voices in your head that you just can't get to go away, the song that won't stop playing in your head at 2 in the morning when all you want to do is go to sleep.

He can't exactly expect them to believe him when he says the songs he wants to keep playing are something like…Taylor Swift.

He's got an image to maintain! And that image doesn't go well with, y'know…something like that. He's no stranger to other people's shame, but his own…well, he might get why people hate feeling it so much.

Roman, though, is his brother, and as such gets full rights to both tease him about things and find out whatever he wants to know. And Roman is his brother, which means that he loves him unconditionally. So maybe the two of them can sing along to Taylor Swift at 3 in the morning and if Roman takes the fall for being the one obsessed with her stuff, well, that's for them to know and Janus to find out when he figures out what Roman's lying about this time.

It's fine, they'll just make him listen to 'no body, no crime.' That song's right up his alley.

***

Roman is tired.

He's just…really tired.

Being the prince, being Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his Creativity—well, half of it—trying to keep everything afloat…it's tiring.

The others don't know this—well, Remus might—but he's the main anchor point between Thomas and the Mindscape. They're all products of Thomas's imagination, which he uses his Creativity to make and interact with, which means that…them, the Mindscape, the Imagination, it's…well, he has to spend a lot of energy to keep it the way it is.

It's tiring.

So sometimes, he doesn't have it in him to play the role. Sometimes he can't focus on staying away long enough to do all the work they want him to do on top of all the stuff they don't know he's doing. And sometimes…sometimes it's just a little bit too much.

They find him on the floor of his room one night, just watching the moon. They gather blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and build a little nest, right there around him. Remus opens the door to the Imagination to lighten a little bit of the load and Logan helps Patton coax Thomas the rest of the way to sleep, letting them shift to the dreaming mind instead.

He's so tired. Surrounded by the others, with his mind at peace, he finally gets some rest.

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